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STAR REBEL THE ALIEN DEBT REBELS QUEST ALL THESE EARTHS

REBELS' SEED

F. M. Busby

BANTAM BOOKS TORONTO • NEW YORK • LONDON • SYDNEY • AUCKLAND

For Karen J-C, who knows why

REBELS SEED

A Bantam Spectra Book / August 1986

This book may not be reproduced in whole or in part, b y

mimeograph or any other means, without permission.

For information address: Bantam Books, Inc.

ISBN 0-553-26115-0 Published simultaneously in the United States and Canada

Bantam Books are published by Bantam Books, Inc. Its trademark, consisting of the words "Bantam Books" and the portrayal of a rooster, is Registered

in U.S. Patent and Trademark Office and in other countries. Marca Registrada. Bantam Books, Inc., 666 Fifth Avenue. New }brk, New York 10103.

PRINTED IN THE U N I T E D STATE S OF A M E R I C A

O 0987654321

REBELS' SEED I

From the personal journal of Captain Katmai Delaroo, commanding the starship March Hare, having

arrived from Earth to the Shrakken outpost world Shaarbant. 4/18/2116.

So we got here a few days ago, close onto 120 lights in only three ship's-months with the second-

generation Hoyfarul FTL Drive, and it seems that the big war against the new alien species, the Tsa, is

over. Or rather, didn't get fully started. I've talked with Bran Tregare Moray (once known as "Tregare

the pirate") and his wife Rissa Kerguelen. Both of them members of the Board of Trustees, no less,

that governs Earth! Because they led the attack that destroyed the slave-owning government of UET, the

United Energy and Transport conglomerate. It's all in the history texts the kids are taught today: how

Tregare took one of UET's armed starships and Escaped to the Hidden Worlds, put together a fleet of

ships, and brought them home "to tear UET out by the roots like a rotten tooth."

(I guess I remember that quote because I like it. I was fourteen, winding up my first year in UET's

Space Academy, "the Slaughterhouse," when Tregare took over and civilized that damned place! In a very

real sense the man saved my life; I couldn't possibly have survived the forced fights, to the death, that

cadets had to undergo after the "snotty" year.)

Coming now to recent events here on Shaarbant, first some data on the two races of aliens,

Shrakken and Tsa. The Shrakken, more than a century ago, landed a ship on Earth. Its crew was killed by

UET's Committee Police; then UET copied its Drive and began to colonize other worlds. But a number

of UET ships mutinied; unknown to UET, they established the colonies called Hidden Worlds.

Even before UET was overthrown, Rissa and Tregare

made peace with the Shrakken. And later the Shrakken were attacked, from farther down the Galactic

arm, by the Tsa. A different kind of attack, for Tsa strike the mind, causing pain, madness, even death.

And Earth owed the Shrakken two great debts: star Drive itself, and UET's murderous treachery in the

stealing of it. (Note to myself: if I hope to sell this account, back home, I need to put in more

background detail. Research all these things. Describe tall, toe-walking Shrakken, partly exoskeletal,

ochre-colored, with the pair of stubby tendrils above each triangular eye. Also squat, weighty Tsa: the

dark brown skin, movable snout hiding the mouth below, etc. Get more pictures!)

The mission, to aid the Shrakken, was too important to be left to underlings. No less than three

members of Earth's Board of Trustees rode Inconnu Deux here to Shaarbant, where the Shrakken

maintain two settlements (this one, Sassden, is the lesser). Rissa Kerguelen chairs that Board. Bran

Tregare's authority exceeds that of any admiral. Rissa's late brother, Ivan Marchant, also held a Board

seat. Yet for this task Tregare was a mere ship's captain, Rissa his First Hat, and Marchant their

gunnery officer. (Note to me: that's good!)

The Deux with its first-generation Hoyfarul Drive brought them here in approx one year of ship time,

perhaps two-point-five years by Earth's clocks. (Note: on the Hare we experienced three months of

travel while possibly six passed on Earth.)

I don't have all the story straight yet, but seven Tsa ships were near this planet. As a result of Tsa

mind-attacks, Tregare and Rissa, along with two Shrakken and three other humans including their

nine-year-old daughter Liesel Selene (usually called Lisele) were marooned on a crashed scoutship in the

middle of swamp country, and eventually walked their way back here. It took them something like four

or five years; personally I shudder to think of such an ordeal.

Meanwhile, although Inconnu Deux is of course faster-than-light and the Tsa ships weren't, the

Deux was caught groundside. Ivan Marchant got the ship away destroying two Tsa ships in the

process, but the Tsa attack did something to his visual centers; the man was blinded. Also his

Hoyfarul Drive failed; the ship was left, light-years from Shaarbant, with only STL capabilities. And

there simply wasn't enough food aboard, for that mode of travel. So most

of the crew rode back to Shaarbant in the ship's freeze chambers.

What happened then isn't wholly clear to me. The girl Lisele somehow attained rapport with the Tsa

commander Elzh, and set up the basis for a possible truce. But only hours before that development, Ivan

Marchant, in Inconnu Deux, reached this planet. And when Tsa ships rose to meet the Deux, Marchant

with a crew of two women bailed out in a scoutship. Not much later, with his blindness apparently in

remission though I'm not sure how, he rammed that scout into a Tsa ship, destroying both craft. "He

did it to save the Deux," Lisele says. "He thought he had to; he didn't know, you see, that the Tsa can't

lie." I like that kid; she reminds me of myself at her age. Except that I'm a little nervy, considering

the load of responsibility for anyone with such important connections, I'm glad she's going to be riding

back to Earth with us.

"I still don't see why I have to go." Keeping her voice down, because showing anger at her parents was

no way to win any kind of argument, still Lisele Selene Moray couldn't restrain a certain glowering.

Everything had been set up fine. With peace agreed, Elzh of the Tsa had waited while his two

remaining ships were converted for FTL capability, then sent one ship after the two that had gone ahead, to

turn them from the grim task of attacking other "Mindbeast" worlds. Lisele wasn't sure whether Elzh was

still male; the Tsa had three sexes and rotated between them. But Elzh hadn't said anything about change,

so Lisele still thought of the alien as "he."

Elzh planned to take the last Tsa ship to the home world of that species, to confront its governing body,

the Tsa-Drin- and, if necessary, force that group to reconsider its Draconian policy against "Mindbeasts." The

humans would follow in Inconnu Deux, lagging enough to give Elzh a chance to

announce their peaceful intent, but sufficiently close behind if the Tsa-Drin turned nasty and Elzh needed

any help.

Lisele looked to Rissa, then to Bran Tregare. "We had everything all worked out. I was looking

forward to it. And now this March Hare ship comes, arid all of a sudden- nobody asking me-you have me

booked to ride it back to Earth. Why?"

Rissa Kerguelen shook her head. Her dark hair, now regrown to fall well past her shoulders, swirled

with the motion. "We have discussed these matters, but it seems you have not listened. Last week we

celebrated your fifteenth birthday; remember?"

Lisele nodded. "Sure. Great party, and I thanked you at the time." It had been nice: first the all-human

part, then a time when Stonzai and a few other Shrakken joined the group. And finally the aircar ride over

to Elzh's ship, taking along only humans who could control their emotions and deal safely with Tsa. So that

Lisele could take pieces of birthday cake to Cveet, the young Tsa who had first communicated with Lisele

without pain, and to Elzh and Tserln and Idsath, Cveet's parents. "But what does that have to do with it?"

Bran Tregare cleared his throat. To Lisele's eyes, the long trek-almost a quarter of the way around

Shaarbant- hadn't aged her father much. The dark, curly hair above his high forehead showed only hints of

grey; long-term exposure to weather had reddened his normally sallow complexion. Possibly, she thought, all

that exercise had done him good!

Now he said, "Look, princess. Fifteen last week means less than a year 'til you hit legal age. Eligible to be

nominated to the Board."

"Me? But that's silly. I don't know enough."

"Which is precisely the point," said Rissa. "So now would you please pay attention to what your father is

saying?"

As he spoke, Tregare's frown showed concentration, not anger. "Don't fool yourself, Lisele. March Hare

brought word that your great-aunt Erika died. Which I was sorry to hear-I came to like that old tiger-but she

lived to about ninety-two, bio, which beats par a lot." Lisele's interruption didn't make it; Tregare

continued, "My own mother, your grandmother Liesel Hulzein, has to be past eighty by now-maybe eighty-

five, by the time you could get home. And your uncle Ivan's gone."

"I still don't understand. What-?"

Rissa spoke. "On Earth's Board of Trustees, our family provides stability, and our representation is

badly depleted. Of course you will be elected as soon as you are eligible."

"But I-"

"And for the past seven years, almost, you have been separated from any kind of formal education.

This lack must be remedied."

"Why?" Lisele heard her voice pitched higher than she'd intended. "Why formal, I mean? I studied on

the Deux, coming here, and on the scout when we were stuck in the swamp. I have every bit of math a

ship's officer needs, and I know all the history that really applies-up to when we left Earth, anyway." Rissa

tried to speak, but Lisele actually glared at her mother. "Political science, maybe? But you've said, yourself,

these days we're making that up as we go along!"

She turned her gaze to her father. "I don't want to sit at a desk. You said, someday I'd have a ship to

command; that's what I want. And going with you, following Elzh, is how I can learn what I need. So-"

Tregare shook his head. "You can do both, princess. But Rissa thinks, and I agree, that you've been out

of the mainstream too long. Stuck here in the boondocks with just a few of us, not learning how to deal with

people you don't know. We-"

Interrupting wasn't polite, but the young woman couldn't help doing it. "How to deal with people I

don't know? Like the Tsa, for instance? Who got the truce for us, anyway?"

Tregare's stern expression broke; laughter erupted. "Good point; you shot me down. But-"

"But that achievement," said Rissa Kerguelen, "is not the same as learning the ins and outs of

relationships with humans who know, by experience that becomes almost instinct, how to get along with

each other and to persuade others. The term, I believe, is 'socialization.' And you, Lisele, simply are not

socialized to your age-level, with regards to life as it is lived groundside, on Earth." She shrugged. "None

of this is any fault of your own. But the lack needs correcting. So you will, aboard March Hare, return to

Earth."

"And now," Tregare put in, "what say we bring you up to date on what else is going on? The

personnel-switching, and all. So s you know who you'll be riding with, and why."

Lisele already knew the why of it all. The Tsa were telepaths who could control their sending but had no

control over what they received. Whereas humans and Shrakken sent, without knowledge or intention. When the

sending carried painful emotion, reception hurt the Tsa, who by reflex struck back with pain. Damage to both

sides was great, and constituted the basis for the original Tsa-Shrakken conflict.

Some humans, Lisele for one, could control their send-ings by means of alpha-wave techniques. Others

didn't have that ability, and could not meet safely with Tsa. Tregare had originally made do with tranquilizers,

light hypnosis, and "key words" he could subvocalize to head off dangerous sendings; now he'd worked with

Lisele's biofeedback machine until he could skip the tranks.

With the Shrakken, none of those techniques worked. The species didn't have alpha waves; their brain

functions were divided or assigned, by their unique biology, so differently that the humans could find no points

of reference. For the time being, Tsa and Shrakken could not meet; all communication would have to go through

human intermediaries.

Still, some humans weren't suitable and never would be; due to one reason or another they couldn't manage

the necessary degree of control. And of the twenty adult human survivors aboard Inconnu Deux, eight were in

that category.

"Since we're going to a Tsa world," said Tregare, "putting forty percent of our crew in freeze would leave us

pretty much shorthanded when we got there. So we tested everybody on March Hare, too, and are taking on

seven of their people. Here's the rundown. ..."

From the Deux, five of the crew were being transferred. Second Hat Anders Kobolak could never deal with

Tsa because he couldn't forget that his sister Dacia had died with Ivan Marchant; his wife Alina Rostadt would

go with him. Jenise Rorvik, her smashed wrist now regaining function after surgery, had come through the cross-

continental trek in better spirits than when it began, but her horror of the Tsa yielded to no restorative attempts.

The blond woman's mate, Chief Engineer Hagen Trent, was staying with the Deux; maybe they'd be reunited on

Earth someday, or maybe not.

Melaine Holmbach, a Drive Tech, hadn't suffered much in the way of Tsa attacks, but couldn't control her

reactions to the species. And- 7

"But why are you sending Arlen?" Lisele asked. "The Tsa don't bother him one bit; he was in freeze

when Uncle Ivan took the Deux up and fought them."

Tregare sighed. "The Hare needs Arlen as Third Hat. That's the only trade I could make, to get a

Gunnery Officer along with a replacement for Anders. Thing was, you see: they didn't need any changes,

and we did."

"Also," Rissa said, "Captain Delarov brought word from Derek and Felcie. A request that if at all

possible, they would like their son to return at the first opportunity."

Lisele pondered the matter. Was somebody sick, back home? Her feelings toward Arlen Limmer were

mixed. Both born on the fortress world Stronghold, after Bran Tregare wrested it from UET, the two

children were originally almost the same age, and the dearest of friends. But Lisele went to Earth with

Tregare's fleet, riding so close to c that only six shipboard months passed while planets' clocks registered

ten years. While Derek Limmer and his wife Felcie Parager brought their children home later, in a

Hoyfarul FTL ship that avoided time-dilation almost entirely. So that when Arlen and Lisele next met, her

bio and chrono ages were nearly a decade apart, and his weren't.

The whole thing had embarrassed her: she'd had a crush on Arlen, but here he was almost grownup

and she was still a little kid. Later, when he'd spent years in freeze on the Deux while Lisele shared the

perils of Shaarbant with her parents and others, covering several thousand kilometers on foot, they met

again. Now Lisele was fifteen and Arlen a bit short of nineteen, bio-ages. But because of what she'd lived

through and he hadn't, now she felt that he was the kid.

Certainly, going by looks, no one would judge him to be much the elder: he stood less than a decimeter

taller than her own seventeen; her figure might be slim, but hardly immature; and with her dark, waving

hair trimmed neatly to chin-length she knew she gave an adult impression.

Now she said, "What do you mean, you had to trade? You're the admiral, and on the Board of

Trustees. You could-"

Headshake. Tregare said, "Rank or no rank, if I want loyalty I have to deal fairly. Think about it."

Feeling stupid, she said, "Sure. You're right. It just

seemed-" Time to change the subject. "One good thing. I think I'm going to like Captain Delarov."

III

When Lisele had ridden Tregare's original Inconnu from Stronghold to Earth, she was too young to

appreciate its vast-ness. STL ships of that time carried crews of at least a hundred; the armed ones each bore two

scoutships. The levels of Inconnu's decks, from cargo holds through crew's quarters and galley and Control room to

the projector turrets topside, were beyond Lisele's childish imaginings. Oh, later she'd explored that ship, and

learned its capabilities and limitations. Now she appreciated how the Deux could go from zerch to lightspeed or vice

versa in about a week; the older ships had needed a month.

FTL ships of the Deux's class had the same-sized hulls, but the Hoyfarul FTL Drive was so bulky that they

held quarters for only thirty. Crews were less than that figure, about two dozen; the surplus gave cushion for a

few to ride as supercargo.

Before the Battle for Earth, Tregare's fleet against Ozzie Newhausen's UET ships, Rissa and Tregare had

sent Lisele off in a specially-crewed scoutship. The scouts bedded a maximum of twelve; their accel capabilities

were roughly half those of full-sized ships-their max range, light-to-zerch, about one-fifth of a light year. A

scout's supplies were planned to keep twelve people alive for six months: as Tregare said, "If you run out of fuel,

food won't help-and the other way 'round, too." But Lisele reached Earth safely.

Now, boarding March Hare with all goodbyes said, Lisele had some comparisons to make. Hare bulked

smaller than Deux by about a third. Quarters fit that ratio: a normal crew of sixteen, with space for twenty

overall. The new Drives were the same size as the Deux's, but improved; with less mass to push, Hare could

mount twice the older ship's accel.

It carried one scoutship only, and this too was a new model: smaller, sleeping only six. But roughly, Lisele

learned, with the same range and acceleration; the six-month limit still

held. Barring a totally-unforeseen breakthrough, FTL drive would never be reduced to scoutship size.

"Well," said Katmai Delarov, sitting across the table from Lisele in captain's digs, "is there anything more I

can tell you at this time?"

Nursing the last of her dessert, Lisele regretted that there wasn't more of it. Dining with the captain, a day

out from Shaarbant and just the two of them talking, had been both pleasant and informative. "No," she said, "I

think you've given me as much as I can take in one bite."

Delarov smiled, showing white, slightly uneven teeth. Lisele found the woman's face interesting: broad,

with strong cheekbones and a sturdy chin. Eyes tilted, almost to an Asiatic slant. Her black hair was cut in a heavy

bang, level from across the front where it almost reached her eyebrows, to just behind the ears; the back part,

waved to fluff out massively, fell below her shoulders. Her earlobes hid behind two discs of jade.

The captain stood. Her body, too, was broad for its height: not fat, but definitely sturdy. Stocky-looking or

not, Katmai Delarov moved like an athlete. Going to the sideboard, bringing out a bottle and starting to apply a

corkscrew, she said, "Do you take wine? I should have asked earlier, but I prefer mine after a meal, when I'm more

apt to pay it proper attention." Brows raised, now hidden under the black fringe of hair, she waited.

Lisele nodded. "Yes. One glass, maybe two; no more." She smiled, and at the woman's look of inquiry, said

"I was remembering. On the Deux, going to Shaarbant. Our first gunnery-simulation tournament. I placed better

than anyone expected, and after dinner someone filled my glass with wine. I'd had tiny amounts, at meals, with

Rissa and Tregare, but I was barely nine years old. I looked over to Tregare, and he held two fingers about this

far apart, and smiled. So that's all the wine I drank. And still felt a little funny, later, going downship."

Full-throated, Delarov laughed; then she finished uncorking the bottle, and poured. "Well, if you've dealt with

the stuff for six years, I assume you can handle your own rationing."

Lisele caught herself frowning; the captain said, "You have to understand, Ms. Moray: all anyone told me

was who you are, and how old, and that you'd be riding aboard as a Nav/Comm trainee. Nobody said whether I

was to mother-hen you, or how much. What I mean is, I know how

important you are, and your whole family, too. What I don't want to do, is screw up. You understand?"

Feeling a bit deflated, Lisele said, "So that's why our intimate little supper? Which I've enjoyed a lot, and

thanks."

"No; that's not why. It's why I ask some questions, ves. But you're here because I like you, and want to know

you better."

Disarmed now, Lisele shrugged. "All right; I feel the same way. I'd like to know more about you, too." She

grinned. "Your turn. Okay?"

"Why not? Fire away."

"Well," as Lisele felt herself make a slight scowl, "I can't place your background. Ancestry, I mean. Would it

be partly Asian, maybe?"

Delarov grinned. "If you go back far enough." She sipped at the pale wine. "I'm Aleut, if you know what that

means. Aleut with a little Russian mixed in, three or four centuries back. My several-greats-grandparents lived on

Ainchitka Island, between the Pacific Ocean and Bering Sea, and were evacuated to the Alaskan mainland during

the second World War." Grimacing, she shrugged. "For a number of decades the Aleuts had a bad time of it:

poverty, and no skills that were usable in a changing economy. Ready for that second glass?'

"Make it just half, please."

"All right. Well, enough lecture. My grandfather worked his way through the university at Fairbanks,

became an attorney, and pulled his whole branch of the family out of hut-style living. So my parents, and then

my brother and I, got off to good starts."

Lisele nodded. "So then you went through the Slaughterhouse."

"Not exactly. I'in only twenty-seven, bio; I was in my snotty year when Tregare smashed UET. Afterward

the Space Academy was still tough, but fair. No more of the savage random cruelty that kept us all so scared."

She smiled. "I can t match scars with the oldtimers, and that's fine with me."

"I certainly believe you!" After another minor question or two, Lisele couldn't think of anything more to say

or ask. So she drained the last drops of her wine, thanked the captain again, and excused herself.

As an officer-trainee in communications, navigation, and the fine art of piloting a ship, unofficially Lisele

held the equivalent of a Chiefs rating and was quartered accordingly.

As she headed downship toward her smallish but adequate cabin, behind her came a hail. "Lisele? Wait a

minute."

She turned to see Arlen Limmer making fast work of his own descent, three steps at a time with only an

occasional grab at the handrail to keep balance. Dark like scarfaced Derek, his father, but with his own face

unmarred, the young man was handsome enough, she supposed. And he had a good disposition, really. What

bothered her-well, it was hard to pin down. Maybe that whatever he wanted, he wanted right now. Unlike Lisele,

he'd never had to learn to wait.

For him to catch up to her now, she was the one who waited. As smiling, with hair tousled and face

sweating, he approached. "Hey; glad I caught you. I'm just off watch. Soon as I shower and change, I'm headed

back upship, to the galley. Join me?"

"I've eaten." But as she saw disappointment begin to cloud his expression, she said, "Sure, though; I could

use another cup of coffee, and we can talk while you eat. '

"Fine. I'll stop by your digs; all right?"

She nodded; as he turned away to his Third Hat's cabin, he waved a hand.

Lisele went to her own deck, one level below. Inside her quarters, her home until Hare reached Earth, she

paused. No need to bathe again so soon, but she might as well change clothes. To dine with Captain Delarov she'd

worn her best outfit: not quite a uniform but fancier than the standard working jumpsuit. And although the galley

was kept as clean as such places could be, why chance getting spots? So she undressed and hung the clothing up

neatly, then picked up the jumpsuit she'd been wearing before.

Absently she scratched an itch at the outside of her right thigh. The redness was gone, and nearly all the

swelling, from the contraceptive implant. Rissa, the last night before March Hare lifted, had shown her how to

work the ampoule and pop the tiny capsule into muscle tissue. "Lisele, I know that you are not planning to get

romantic with Arlen," her mother said. "Not in the immediate future, at least. Still it cannot be harmful for you to

know that in any case you are protected. After your next menses you may assume that the implant has taken effect."

When Rissa also gave her the packet, still containing two more ampoules, Lisele protested. "But these are

two-year implants. Why would I need extras now?"

Rissa shrugged. "The things come three in a box. And this prescription is designed for your general age

group, not mine." So Lisele accepted the small container.

Now she thought, Z don't really need any of them, yet. But as Tregare would say, it can't hardly hurt a

damn thing!

Arlen must have showered fast; before Lisele expected it, his rap came at the door. She met him there, and

they climbed upship to the galley, rapidly enough to arrive slightly short of breath. As he took a tray and went

through the food lineup, Lisele bypassed that part and carried a small pot of coffee to a vacant corner table.

As Arlen, his tray laden, joined her, she saw Anders Kobolak come in with his wife, Alina Rostadt. Anders,

she thought, was looking better these days; his thin face, under dark hair, was never exactly jolly in expression,

but the sulky look he'd worn so long, for months after the death of his sister, was gone now. She waved to the

couple; by nodding, they accepted her invitation.

Arlen frowned. "I thought we could talk."

"We can."

"Not about anything personal."

She scowled at him. "After, then. All right?"

"I guess so." He poured coffee for both of them, as Anders and Alina came to sit.

Lisele gave greetings. "How's everything going, so far?" At one time, she knew, in a dangerous situation

Alina Rostadt had been trained and disguised to pretend to be Lisele's mother, while Rissa Kerguelen herself

carried another persona. The trick had worked-but now, Lisele thought, it couldn't. Not while Alina carried at least

ten kilos over Rissa's highest weight. Oh, well; Rostadt simply wasn't the athletic type.

Kobolak answered. "We're settling in; no problems. I'd hoped to get First Hat on here, but Ms. Lu-teng has

seniority on me and moved up from Second. That's all right; I'm Gunnery Officer as well, which gives me bonus

pay. For six months, I can wait the other promotion."

"Six?" Puzzled, Lisele thought back. "Hare went from Earth to Shaarbant in three."

Kobolak had a mouthful of food, so Alina answered. "There's a side-excursion, going back. You hadn't

heard?"

Lisele hadn't; his food swallowed, Anders explained. "It's a gravitational anomaly of some kind. Coming to

Shaarbant,

with the Hare well above c, the inertial detectors went fruitcake. So on our way back to Earth, Captain Delarov

has clearance to take a side-jog, cut the Hoyfarul Drive and drop to STL, have a closer look. Maybe something's

there, or maybe it was just an instrument glitch; either way, we'll find out." "I wonder what it could be," said

Arlen. For the rest of the meal, Lisele nursing her coffee to make it last, everyone speculated. The end result was,

no one had any clues at all.

When the other two left, Lisele said, "Now we can talk."

Arlen looked over to the next table, where several ratings were telling jokes, having a high old time. "Not

here."

Lisele knew what he wanted: her quarters or his. She sighed. Clearly, perhaps even inevitably, she felt that

Arlen Limmer would someday be her first (and perhaps only) lover. Because they'd been close friends from

infancy, and toward no one else of her own age did she feel such fondness.

But not yet. For one thing, until her menses which weren't due for a few more days, she'd be vulnerable to

an unwanted conception. And for another, she didn't feel ready. Yet Arlen kept pushing at her; it was one of his

more irritating qualities.

So she said, "Turret Four. I need some gunnery practice, anyway, and Four's set up for simulation runs."

She had to hand it to Arlen; at least he tried to look pleased at her choice. He wasn't, though. He couldn't be,

because the turrets weren't all that private.

Scaled down in size, March Hare mounted only four peripheral turrets, not six. The peripherals had traverse

capability, while the central, more powerful projector aimed always straight ahead, along the ship's major axis.

Spaced between the outer turrets were torpedo bays, but Lisele hadn't asked what kinds of warheads those

missiles carried. Now she seated herself in the gunner's chair; it was adjusted comfortably for her height and

lengths of limb, so she put the option switch to Simulate and applied power.

In the monitor seat, Arlen fidgeted as Lisele checked the panel's indicators. A projector consisted of two UV

lasers, designed to heterodyne at peak energy in the infrared range, and to converge where the beams met their

target. In practice, though, the fine tuning required human control. The ship's computer chose a gunner's targets

and would only

"give you a shot" if heterodyne and convergence were tuned properly.

The indicators and their controls were these: on the panel's small central screen, a circle glowed. If it tilted

to become an ellipse, heterodyne was off; "pushing" at it, laterally with the righthand control lever, would

straighten it up. At each side of the screen was a range light; when convergence was correct, both lights were

out. If one lit, pushing the lefthand lever toward it would correct matters. There was also an override pedal, not

especially useful in Simulation; in real combat, if the situation became desperate, that pedal doubled the

combined convergence-heterodyne tolerance, to allow chancier shots.

Which all sounded simple enough. The trouble was that when ships fought, things happened very fast

indeed; controlling both variables at the same time took good reflexes and plenty of practice. Lisele had the

former, but for a long time now, not the latter. So, unfocusing her eyes slightly, in order to see the screen and

range lights simultaneously, she punched for the first Sim in the turret's program. "Call my scores, will you,

Arlen?"

"Well, sure-but when do we talk?"

She thought for a moment, then grinned. "After I take a half-dozen sim runs or so, and before you do."

The run began; the range lights told her of an enemy ship coming in fast, but decelerating on a skew pass.

By the time she had that part solved, heterodyne was drifting; for seconds she couldn't coordinate, and when she

did, the computer abruptly switched targets, Out of practice, she fumbled for a time, but by the end of the run she

felt she had the feel of it again.

Her next five exercises proved her to be correct.

Reading off the scores-percentage of time effectively on target as compared to what was possible-Arlen

nodded. "It comes back fast, doesn't it? For you, anyway."

"Want to try six for yourself, now? Put a bet on it?" "Not just yet." He reached across to clasp her hand. "Lisele,

you know how I feel about you. Why don't you want me to say it?"

"If I know, why do you have to?"

"Because you never give me an answer. Why not?"

Feeling pressured, she wanted to jerk her hand free of

his. Instead, she disengaged it gently. "You ever think, maybe I'm just not ready?"

"You're fifteen. Less than a year from full adult status."

"But not there yet."

"Fourteen's marriageable age, with parents' consent.

"Except, my parents aren't here."

"What if I told you I'd asked them, and they said yes?"

Unable to suppress her reaction, Lisele laughed. "And Rissa simply forgot to tell me? Oh, Arlen!"

He had the grace to show a sheepish grin. "All right, I didn't. But I'll bet that if I had, they'd have said it's up

to you. Wouldn't they?"

To be fair, Lisele had to admit he was probably right. So she hedged. "Still, though, you didn't ask. Never mind;

what I do is up to me, anyway. Marriage aside, that is."

"Sure," he said. "I knew you'd see it. Lisele, we could just be lovers for a while, and get married when

you're sixteen."

How had she let him pin her down to specifics so quickly? Physically she didn't shake her head, but her

thoughts included that action. Now what to say?

Well, why not the truth? "Arlen. I know you and I like you; maybe I even love you. I did when we were little,

and it probably hasn't all worn off." He tried to speak, but with a finger to his lips she shushed him. "No, listen.

Someday I'll have a lover or a husband, and unless you get tired of waiting around and run off with somebody else,

you'll probably be him." She took a deep breath', and sighed. "But not right now."

"Can I ask why?

"Sure. Ask all you want. But it's none of your business." Tell him it wouldn't be safe for her, until after her

period? Fat chance! Not that she usually had qualms about discussing physical processes, but in this particular

case it was simply too peace-wasting personal.

So she said, "You want to take some sim runs now?"

He shrugged. "I guess so." Then, "You said, how about putting a bet on it. All right. If I win, will you

answer my question? About what's wrong with right now?"

"And if / win?" He said nothing; suddenly Lisele snapped her fingers. "I know. If I win, the subject is closed

until I bring it up, all by myself. You agree?"

The way Arlen frowned, she knew he was looking for

loopholes. Whether he found any or not, finally he nodded. "All right; you're on."

Arlen came close to winning that bet, but on his final run he pushed too hard, and lost by less than ten points

overall. Lisele felt friendly enough to share a warm hug and a quick kiss; then they went downship to their

separate quarters. What with the stress of simulated gunnery runs, not to mention the impact of more personal

emotions, now she did need a shower.

Over the next few days Lisele got into the swing of her training routine. Once the Hare passed light, none

but the inertial instruments would register, so while she could, she concentrated on navigational studies and

pilot's skills. She was sitting watch, working with the computer at an auxiliary position, when the ship broke c.

So she cut the screen's now-irrelevant navigational display. The only piloting chores at supercee would be

changes of course and accel; since none of those were planned for a time, she switched her monitor position to

communications mode. Ranging above light, though, even the comm-panel could run nothing but computer

simulations.

Stretching, sitting back, Lisele turned to Jenise Rorvik, who had the official comm. "Well, you're on

vacation now, again. Any good ideas, to pass the time?"

Shaking her head, the blond woman smiled. She was about twenty-five, bio, but the years on Shaarbant had

aged her: the trek that seemed would never end, the pain of her crippled wrist. She had changed, from the

spiritless creature who at first wanted simply to lie down and die; she had, now, a kind of strength.

But she'd paid for it; she looked ten years older. On the Deux, before reaching Shaarbant, Arlen Limmer had

for a time given her a certain amount of romantic attention. Somehow Lisele doubted that Arlen, only a few

months aged since then, would be interested in the Jenise of today.

The woman's headshake didn't help conversation much. Lisele thought, and said, "Do you have any

plans, especially, for when we reach Earth?"

Another headshake, but then, "I'm not going out again." The once-delicate pale complexion, now lined

and roughened, showed sudden color. "I know Hagen can't get back for a few years, groundside time. But

when he does, I intend to be there." She put a hand to her abdomen. "His child and I, both."

The pregnancy had to be on purpose, probably decided after the long journey had ended at Sassden but

before March Hare's arrival. Lisele reached across and squeezed Rorvik's hand. "That's great. And maybe

the Deux won't take so long, backing Elzh's play with the Tsa-Drin, as everybody expects."

"I hope you're right." They talked about Jenise's plans a little longer; then Lisele's watch-shift ended.

She was working a rotating "split-trick"; Rorvik still had four hours to go. But Lisele hadn't eaten before

watch, and was hungry.

Going into the galley, getting a tray and filling it, she looked to see who was there that she'd like to

talk with. Nobody present, that she really knew. One table with four people she hadn't really met. Melaine

Holmbach, a Drive-tech from the Deux, sitting alone; Lisele didn't know why the woman was so solitary, and

at the moment was in no mood to find out. But at the nearest table were Hare's First Hat, Chief Engineer, and

Comm Chief. Looked like a good mix, so that's where Lisele went.

"May I join you?"

Mei Lu-teng, the First Hat, looked up and nodded. The woman, Lisele knew, was descended from

Tibetan refugees. She sat tall and lean, gazing from dark slits of eyes above massive cheekbones, gaunt

cheeks, and a long, prominent jaw. One hand brushed at a wisp of black hair escaping from the swirl atop

her crown, as she said, "Yes. Please sit down. Do you know my fellow-officers?"

Lisele set down her tray and seated herself. "Just barely. We've met, but that's about all."

So she was reintroduced to sandy-haired Chief Engineer Darwin Pope, a tall skinny man looking

sunburned even though he probably wasn't; his oversized, Adam's-apple moved

as he said, in a quiet but rasping voice, "Stick around; we'll get acquainted."

"I'm sure." Well, he had a nice handshake.

Comm Chief Eduin Brower hadn't impressed Lisele the first time and still didn't. It wasn't merely that the

man was short and fat and generally untidy, with cigar ashes all down the front of his none-too-clean jumpsuit.

He talked like a slob, too-out of the side of his mouth, around the cigar, slurring his words. And the cigars

themselves: Tregare smoked one now and then, but his smelled nice. She knew how he'd describe these of

Brower's: like somebody frying a chicken with the feathers on!

But when he mumbled "Hi'ya, sis," she took his lax, moist handshake and smiled. It can't hurt to act

friendly.

"Hi'ya, Chief."

The conversation, desultory and concerning ship's problems she knew nothing about, went over her head. So

she thought on what she know of the Hare's personnel complement. All right; the captain and three Hats, to run

Control. Drive Chief and three subordinates. But both Comm and Engineering were three-person contingents; the

Chiefs also had to stand regular watches. Fourteen people, then, all told. Plus herself as a sort of cadet, maybe to fill

in if somebody got sick, or something.

She guessed it would probably work; shipside, things usually did, if the people were right for their jobs.

And were they? It might pay to listen, and find out.

First Hat Lu-teng was speaking. "Darwin, before we cut Hoyfarul drive I want an extra tuning. Out of sked, I

know- but with an anomaly to explore, and the breakout due to happen on a new officer's watch, I'd feel safer."

Pope shrugged. "Sure, Mei. I'm not overworked."

"And you, Eduin." She turned to the cigar-smoker. "An extra check on all comm-channel gear, before

dropping to subcee?"

"You want it, you got it."

The woman nodded. "Thank you, both." She stood. "Excuse me, please?"

The woman left. Lisele, now finished eating, felt she should be trying to learn more about the ship, but

couldn't think of questions to ask. She looked up, to find Darwin Pope's gaze on her. He said, "You're thinking,

perhaps, that

it's the captain's place, not the First Hat's, to assign extra maintenance?"

She hadn't thought about it at all; now she did. "No. It's any officer's job to see to such things. Long as she

logs the request, and I expect she will. If you'd objected, now-which you didn't-then it'd be a matter for the

captain."

Brower chuckled. "Thought you'd catch her up, huh, Dar? Hey, this is Tregare's kid you're out to spoof." To

Lisele, then, "How the hell far did you walk, around that mudball? And how'd you bust through to talk peaceful

with them Tsa, which nobody else ever done?"

So instead of asking questions, Lisele found herself answering them. In the process, she began to change her

opinion of Eduin Brower. His speech and person were sloppy, but his thinking wasn't.

Driven by the coherent, ellipsoidal field of the drive named for Pennet Hoyfarul, March Hare began to pile

up Big Vee. The velocity-derived mass, that had limited the earlier acoherent drives to STL speeds, manifested

itself in parallel, matterless universes where such things as velocity and acceleration had no meaning. As Tregare

once said, "Einstein wasn't wrong, you understand. He just didn't have all the facts."

A bit short of three weeks out from Shaarbant, on the day when the onset of Lisele's slightly-overdue

menses had her feeling tense and a little uncomfortable, she came on-watch to find Anders Kobolak talking with

Captain Delarov. "It was right along in here, that you got the peculiar indications?"

"Close to it," the woman answered. "Of course we're on a different route now; the angle of approach is

changed. But I think we should cut the Hoyfarul Drive and drop to STL, some time around the end of your

watch."

"How about an hour before? Fifteen hundred. That way we won't have a watch change until we're

stabilized."

"Sounds fine." She looked at her wrist chrono. "A little less than three hours. I'll be back here then, to

observe." Kobolak nodded, and with a brief smile to Lisele, Captain Delarov left Control.

Lisele greeted Anders, and Alina Rostadt who had the comm panel, then sat down to her aux position and

opened the circuit to Tinhead. On this ship they didn't call the computer that, but Tregare always had.

For the next two hours she ran navigation sims, including several of Tregare's favorites.

As a trainee without real watch duties, at break time Lisele had the option of going down to the galley. Of

course she observed the formality of asking Kobolak's permission. "Sure." He shook the coffee pot; it sounded

nearly empty. "Bring back a refill, would you please?"

"Freshest I can find." She took the utensil and went downship; in the galley she turned it in, got a fresh cup

for herself and picked up a slice of toast to go with it, then looked around the place. No one she knew was there,

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OtherBantamBooksbyF.M.BusbyAskyourbooksellerfortheonesyouhavemissedSTARREBELTHEALIENDEBTREBELSQUESTALLTHESEEARTHSREBELS'SEEDF.M.BusbyBANTAMBOOKSTORONTO•NEWYORK•LONDON•SYDNEY•AUCKLANDForKarenJ-C,whoknowswhyREBELSSEEDABantamSpectraBook/August1986Allrightsreserved.Copyright©1986byF.M.Busby.Coverartcopy...

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