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Chapter Twenty-Two
"Welcome to Zephrain, Admiral Li."

As her interorbital shuttle nosed its way into the hanger bay of the main space station of Xanadu Skywatch, Li Han examined her feelings with clinical detachment and realized, to her intense annoyance, that she had butterflies in her stomach.

Absurd! She made adjustments to the gold-edged deep-blue-and-white dress uniform she was wearing for this occasion in preference to the more usual civvies of her First Space Lord persona—and then became even more annoyed as she became aware she was doing it. Self-consciousness too? Really, Han! You're acting about a tenth of your age.

She had thought she was doing well on emergence from the warp point into the light of this sun that held so many bitter memories for her. The choice of Zephrain to host the first meeting of all the allied fleet commanders in chief had been a political one. The Rim Federation, after all, was the first star nation to be attacked by this new enemy-without-a-name. But she knew there was more to it than that. There was also the near-mythic status of the man who was about to welcome her to this system, where he had once held her captive.

She dismissed the thought defiantly. At least the Terran Republic's politicians had insisted on a compromise. The Rim Federation's capital system would host the conference, but it would actually take place aboard the TRN flagship. Han's lips formed a grim smile. TRNS Taconic had doubtless already caused eyebrows to raise and jaws to drop as she had eased into orbit around Xanadu. And she hadn't even shown them the inside yet. She was looking forward to that.

But first, of course, formality demanded that she first pay a call on her host. She anticipated a certain sense of unreality.

The shuttle came to rest and the hatch wheezed open. Li Han stood up, motioned to her entourage to wait, and stepped out onto the ramp all alone.

At once the cavernous hangar bay's sound system broke into the Terran Republic's anthem—a nice courtesy, she had to admit—and an honor guard of RFN Marines clicked to attention. The last time she had seen those forest-green tunics and black trousers, they had clothed her jailers. But she had no eyes for them. Her attention was riveted on the figure who stepped forward from a multispecies group at the foot of the ramp—a tall figure in the black-and-silver of the old Terran Federation Navy, but with the Rim shoulder flash. She descended the ramp to face him.

She had prepared herself for the fact that he would look no older than his early twenties. Reconciling that with his fleet admiral's insignia wasn't as hard for her as it would have been for someone from the centuries before antigerone treatments had blurred traditional notions of how authority figures were supposed to look. But it was hard to reconcile with her memories of a man who'd been older than her and looked it.

She wondered how he was coping with her pure white hair and general sixtyish appearance—and with the fact that now she too was a fleet admiral. But legally he had more seniority, even though she had more life experience, to the tune of what were traditionally called generations. And she was, of course, coming aboard his space station. So she saluted him with scrupulous correctness.

He returned her salute. "Welcome to Zephrain, Admiral Li." Yes, it was the same voice, even though formed by a physiologically younger throat. And his features were recognizable, though unlined. The absence of a beard and the presence of thick hair (He must have loved that part, she thought tartly) took some getting used to. But yes, it was he, beyond any possibility of doubt.

For an instant, they stood armored in formality.

Well, she decided, someone has to make the first move. And I'm the older and—I like to think—wiser.

"I imagine, Admiral Trevayne, you never expected to say those precise words."

"Actually," he said with the dryness she remembered, "I've had some practice. You're the second Admiral Li we've welcomed to the Rim Federation. And since Third Bellerophon, we've been very glad to have the first one."

"Thank you, Admiral," she replied, determined to keep up the badinage. "I hope I don't turn out to be a disappointment by comparison with my daughter."

"I hardly think so. I'm only glad our warp point was able to accommodate your ship."

She smiled in spite of herself. "Yes, that would have been awkward, wouldn't it? But we naturally took it into account. And I'm looking forward to receiving you and the other allied commanders aboard Taconic."

"Not as much as I'm looking forward to touring the prototype devastator," he said with an unaffected eagerness that seemed more in keeping with his apparent age than his actual one, however defined. "But first, let me introduce you to my colleagues."

First Fang of the Khan Thraaiewlahk'gahrnak was currently sky marshal by virtue of a tradition that alternated human and Orion officers in the post of the PSUN's military commander in chief. His whiskers were luxuriant, his coppery pelt beginning to show the silver that betokened age in a race for which no equivalent of the antigerone regimen had ever been discovered. Li Han made a point of being especially courteous in exchanging salutes with him, and took care to demonstrate her understanding of the Tongue of Tongues. The Terran Federation's proposed amalgamation with the Khanate had been the proximate cause of the Fringe Revolution, and the people of the Terran Republic still had a reputation—which Han knew to be false, albeit understandable—for anti-Orion bigotry. But the old Tabby lost no time in relieving her of any anxiety she might have felt.

"Ahhdmiraaaal Liii, I am honored to meet the First Fang of your nation—and even more honored to meet the mother of your daughter. Least Fang Zhaairnow'ailaaioun has related the tale of how she made possible the escape of many of the Zheeerlikou'valkhannaiee, at great risk to herself, while taking a heavy toll of the chofaki. Our claws are hers," he concluded formally.

"I am honored, First Fang, as I am sure she would be." Li Han meant it. She didn't claim to be an expert on the Orions, of whom there were none in the Republic, but she knew what that last expression of honor debt meant. If Mags ever needed anyone killed, she had only to ask.

Thraaiewlahk introduced her to his staffers. They included both of the PSU's principal races, and one Gorm, Tolkaru, known as "Task Force Leader" among a race that had no structured system of military ranks. The gray, thick-hided centauroid was standing at his race's equivalent of "attention," on the lowest pair of limbs alone, which brought his eerily humanlike face to a height of three meters. But Li Han controlled her annoyance at having to look even further up than usual. The race's status inside-but-not-of the Khanate had always puzzled humans, and its relationship to the PSU was almost as ambivalent as the Rim Federation's. There was no ambivalence about the respect in which the massive heavy-planet dwellers were held as fighters, however.

"Fleet Admiral Zhwaaraa of the Ophiuchi Association Defense Command," Trevayne concluded the introductions. Li Han recalled that Terra's long-standing allies the Ophiuchi had adopted the human naval rank structure. She also recalled that they had broken out of the warp cul-de-sac that had long confined them (by unintended courtesy of a race called the Sedua, who had been ill-advised enough to attack them through a closed warp point). So their traditional minor-power status was now rapidly becoming a thing of the past. And they had always been handy in a fight, for the simple reason that they were the best fighter pilots in the known galaxy, not excepting the Orions. Descendants of avians, they had evolved into tool users at the cost of the ability to fly—but not at the cost of the innate sense of relative motion in three dimensions that was their heritage. Once again, Li Han had to strain her neck to look up into Zhwaaraa's beaked and crested countenance, for his feathered, hollow-boned body (somewhat similar to that of an emaciated humanoid) lifted it two and a half meters.

Li Han introduced her own staffers. "In addition," she concluded, "I asked Dr. Kasugawa to accompany me. He agreed, even though Dr. Desai could ill afford to spare him. You'll be meeting him aboard Taconic."

"Ah, yes." Trevayne nodded. "I'm definitely looking forward to making his acquaintance, in light of what we've all heard. Ah . . . I gather Dr. Desai herself has not accompanied you."

"No," Li Han said carefully. "Strictly speaking, she is Admiral Desai now. She is back on the active list, and is working with the PSU's Bureau of Ships. The press of her affairs made it impossible for her to come."

"Too bad. I'd looked forward to seeing her. She used to be my chief of staff, you know."

"Yes, I know," said Li Han, who also had a very good idea of the real reason for Desai's absence—although, she reflected, Trevayne's impossible physical youth might, paradoxically, have made it easier. "And now, let me invite everyone aboard Taconic. We are rather proud of her, you know."

The allied brass were still looking somewhat dazed from their tour of Taconic when they took their seats (or whatever; Li Han mentally congratulated herself for remembering to lay in some of the saddlelike couches the Gorm used for chairs) in the conference room.

Some of them looked a bit puzzled as they took their places on the crescent-shaped terraces that overlooked the vast holo tank in which floated an immaterial warp-line chart of the Bellerophon Arm and a great deal else besides. Why, they wondered, was a three-dimensional display needed?

Li Han took her place at a table facing the guests from across the tank. Dr. Kasugawa shared the table with her. He was, she could tell, even more of a focus of interest than the holo tank, for by now all of these people had heard of his and Sonja Desai's work.

"Admiral Trevayne," she began formally, "as most senior officer present, and as military commander in chief of the Rim Federation, the first victim of these beings' aggression, I will ask you to open these proceedings by summarizing the situation with respect to the Bellerophon Arm."

"Thank you, Admiral Li." Trevayne stepped around the holo tank to take her place at the table, moving with a jauntiness appropriate to his apparent youth. But when he spoke, any illusion of callowness vanished. "Not to put too fine a point on it, the 'situation' is bloody awful. You've all been provided with the statistical summary of Admiral Waldeck's latest attempt to break into the Bellerophon System. I and my staff have analyzed it, and have concluded that no blame can be attached to him or anyone else for its failure. I have so informed the cabinet of the Rim Federation. I believe the same can be said for the more recent attempt to counterattack the incursion into the Pan-Sentient Union." A growl of gloomy agreement came from Thraaiewlahk's direction. "In both cases, we inflicted heavy losses on the enemy, partly due to our neutralization of the 'stealth scrambler.' We are, of course, routing reinforcements to Second Fleet in the Astria system, and can continue to build up our force there practically ad infinitum. But while we're doing so, the enemy is breaking up more of his smaller generation ships into SDSes."

There was a heavy silence. Taconic had, in an odd way, brought home to these people the system-defense ships' almost inconceivable size. Touring the devastator, they hadn't been able to forget that an SDS was three hundred times its tonnage. Trevayne let them think about it a moment before continuing inexorably.

"All the quibbling in the galaxy about the relative inefficiency of the SDS's design can't alter the firepower advantage it gives them. And while its lack of speed and maneuverability would put it at a disadvantage in a war of movement, we have to break away from the warp point before it can become a war of movement. That's what Admiral Waldeck tried to do. And we know what came of it."

"Yes," Thraaiewlahk acknowledged. "Their fighters are no match for our space superiority fighters at anything like even odds—that much was demonstrated. But we all know the difficulty of launching fighters in sufficient numbers while a warp-point assault is still in progress. That is even more true with these monster ships. They can smother the transiting ships with missile fire from long range like the chofaki they are." He barely troubled to keep the contempt out of his voice. Chofaki—delicately translated into Standard English as "dirt eaters"—meant beings too inherently honorless to be amenable to the warrior code of theernowlus. "And because our ships must be able to make warp transits, there is no escaping their crippling disadvantage in size—even with this awesome ship of yours, Ahhdmiraaaal Liii. No," the old Orion continued, drawing himself up and visibly mustering the moral courage to face up to an intolerable truth. "I see no way to carry out a warp-point assault without incurring totally unacceptable casualties."

There was dead silence. Everyone knew what it had cost Thraaiewlahk to say that. When an Orion called casualties "unacceptable," he was taken seriously.

After a moment, Li Han spoke with the diffidence she had never managed to entirely lose, even though she knew not everyone found it either convincing or endearing. "Admiral Trevayne . . . First Fang . . . Admiral Zhwaaraa . . . I gather we are agreed that we find ourselves at an impasse." No one broke the gloom to contradict her. She stood up. "The Terran Republic—with the help of the Pan-Sentient Union—is prepared to propose a way to break that impasse."

She could tell she had their undivided attention.

"You have the floor, Admiral Li," said Trevayne.

She stepped around the table and pointed a remote at the warp-line display in the tank. An icon in the Bellerophon Arm began to flash on and off for attention. It was a backwater: a cul-de-sac system with only one warp point, at the end of a "spur" connected to the main arm through a starless warp nexus.

"The Borden System," said Li Han. "A red dwarf star with no habitable planets." Leaving her audience to wonder why she had even mentioned such a worthless bit of cosmic detritus, she walked around the perimeter of the tank to an area where the spreading warp network extended into the Terran Republic. She pointed her remote again, and another icon began to blink. "ZQ-147," she stated. "A starless warp nexus."

The general puzzlement deepened, as the two icons flickered across the tank from each other.

Li Han permitted herself a smile which, in anyone else, would have been called mischievous. "Our programmers are very proud of themselves for this," she murmured, and pointed the remote again. . . .

Chaos!

There was a collective hubbub as everyone rose to their feet to stare down into the tank, where the string-lights of warp lines had vanished and the icons of star systems—far fewer icons, it seemed—were scrambled into a pattern with no resemblance to the former one, with the colors of the various star nations all intermingled.

The only apparent connection between the new display and the former one was the two blinking icons. But now they were side by side, practically touching.

"What you are seeing," Li Han explained, "is something no one except astronomers has given any thought to for centuries: the real arrangement of the stars in three-dimensional space—the space of Newton and Einstein. Only a fraction of those from the warp line display show at all, for the simple reason that most of them lie outside the volume of space this display includes—far outside it in many cases. But the important fact is this: the Borden system and the ZQ-147 warp nexus lie only 2.21 light-years apart in real space." (She used the traditional measure of interstellar distances, based on the year of Old Terra.)

"Ssso we sssee," said Zhwaaraa in the silibant tones his race gave to Standard English. "But the relevanccce . . .?"

Li had restored the warp-line display, to the general relief. "We propose an expedition from ZQ-147 to Borden . . . an expedition across normal space."

"Across normal space?" someone blurted. A low hubbub arose at such an unheard-of idea.

"Precisely. The purpose will be to transport a Kasugawa generator." The confused buzz halted abruptly. "You are all aware by now of the work Doctors Kasugawa and Desai have been doing. You know that paired and aligned Kasugawa generators, activated simultaneously, can in effect punch a hole in the continuum"—Dr. Kasugawa winced as though in severe intestinal pain—"and forge a new warp line between them. We meant to take advantage of this. Once the generator is in place in the Borden System, we will use it to open a direct warp link—the first artificial warp link in history—between that system and ZQ-147, where the second generator of the pair will be located." She pointed the remote again, but this time it was like a sword thrust. A very long string-light appeared, stretching more than halfway across the tank from one flashing icon to the other. "I will then undertake to lead a fleet of devastators through this warp link into the Bellerophon Arm. As I'm sure you all agree after your tour of this ship, the devastators are far more formidable than anything the enemy has except the SDSes—and those are confined to the Bellerophon System by their sheer size, which makes warp transit out of the question for them. We will retake all of the Arm except Bellerophon itself, into which the enemy will be sealed. They will, of course, continue to strengthen the defenses of Bellerophon, but they will have only the finite resources of that system to do it with. And those defenses will have to be split between two or more warp points rather than concentrated on one. We will finally be able to fight our way into Bellerophon and liberate it, which of course is our primary objective"

The basso profundissimo of the Gorm's otherwise astonishingly good Standard English broke the silence. "I can see certain problems with this," said Tolkaru, even as he rapidly manipulated the minicomputer strapped to one of his massive primary arms. "First of all, the route from Borden to the main Bellerophon Arm leads through the starless warp nexus BR-06 to the Mercury binary system. And that warp connection is impassable even to a supermonitor, much less to a devastator."

"Evidently, Task Force Leader, you have not been exhaustively briefed on the capabilities of the Kasugawa generator. It can be used to increase the capacity of existing warp points—'dredge' them, as Dr. Desai put it, using a term derived from Old Terra's wet-navy history—to up to twice that needed to accommodate a devastator. Our fleet will carry additional generators for this purpose."

"All very well," hissed Zhwaaraa. "But the fact remainsss that the Desai Drive's top ssspeed is only one half that of light."

"Precisely," said Thraaiewlahk with the nod he had picked up over many years of association with humans. "So the crossing you propose would take four point four two Standard years. Of course, the crews would enjoy some relativistic time-dilation advantage—"

"To be exact, First Fang, the voyage from ZQ-147 to Borden would take three point eight five subjective years at the zero point five c possible to the Desai Drive." Li Han raised a hand. "Before anyone draws any conclusions from that, I would ask that Dr. Kasugawa be heard, for I have asked him and Dr. Desai to turn their attention to the problems inherent in my proposal."

There was no objection, and the elderly scientist stood slowly up. "Elderly" was a word that came naturally to people, even though he was well under a century. He had come to antigerone treatments fairly late, and had the look that humans still tended to associate with mature wisdom.

"First Space Lord Li already knows what I am about to tell you, as a result of the PSU's new policy of information sharing with the Terran Republic. But I must ask you to regard it as sensitive beyond even the overall classification of this meeting.

"Briefly, and in nontechnical language, Dr. Desai and I believe it will be possible to achieve very significant improvements in performance over the Desai Drive. We have dubbed this new application the 'Desai Prime' drive. It is an 'all-or-nothing' drive which can only operate at its top speed, attained instantaneously, of approximately zero point eight five c." Kasugawa waited for the gasps to die down before continuing in somber tones. "There are drawbacks. The most obvious is that the drive has no tactical applications, as it is moving at maximum velocity or not at all. More seriously, this velocity is at the very limit of radiation and particle shielding's ability to protect a crew. Nevertheless, if the drive proves to be practical—"

"If?'" someone queried.

"—as Dr. Desai has every confidence that it will, the duration of the expedition Admiral Li proposes will be reduced to two point six Standard years from the standpoint of an outside observer, or only one point three seven standard year as experienced by the crew."

"Thank you, Dr. Kasugawa,' said Li Han, perhaps a little too hastily. "I should point out," she continued, addressing the audience, "that the transit time, while admittedly very long compared to the interstellar travel times to which we have been accustomed for centuries, is in a sense no disadvantage at all. It will take very nearly that long to complete the construction of the devastators we have earmarked for the offensive anyway."

Tolkaru was not to be sidetracked. "Let us discuss the crew of this expedition," he rumbled in the inexorable Gormish way. "One assumes that they will be volunteers—"

"Naturally," Li Han interjected.

"—and that they will be provided with the best shielding and armor modern science can provide. Nevertheless, on the optimistic assumption that they survive the voyage, we must consider what will happen when they arrive. What if the Kasugawa generator fails to work? They would be stranded, would they not?"

"That is correct, Task Force Leader," Li Han replied unflinchingly.

Thraaiewlahk spoke up . . . and in tones that caused Li Han's heart to sink. She had been counting on his support, for as an Orion he would hardly be concerned with risk to the volunteer crew. "I have studied the data on the Kasssugawwa generator. It is, of necessity, a massive piece of equipment. We must assume that the ship will be built around it—essentially, the generator and a very long-term life-support system with a Desssai Prime drive attached. It could not possibly carry any significant armament."

"No, First Fang," Li Han admitted, knowing what was coming next.

"So if the ship arrives at its destination and finds the enemy in possession of that system, it will be unable to defend itself."

"We have no knowledge that the enemy have, in fact, occupied the Borden System, First Fang." Li Han could hear the lameness in her own voice.

"No. In fact, we have no knowledge whatsoever of what has transpired in the Arm since the initial enemy incursion, do we? So you cannot deny the possibility that the enemy may have picketed the destination system. And if they have, then the expedition will be defenseless prey." The old Orion held her eyes, and she could not look away. "It was you humans, Ahhdmiraaaal Liii, who taught my ancestors—and charged a heavy tuition for the lesson—that the honor of a warrior must be subordinated to the cold logic of military necessity. It is an absolute necessity that the Kasssugawwa generator must not fall into the hands of these chofaki, who are already very experienced in normal-space interstellar flight. The potential consequences do not bear contemplating." He gave a head shake that was as uncannily human as his nod. "No. This is too risky."

Li Han looked around desperately. She could see—no, feel—the sense of the meeting going Thraaiewlahk's and Tolkaru's way.

Then, just as the general mood was about to congeal into a firm consensus of opposition, Ian Trevayne rose slowly to his feet.

He had been oddly silent for a long time. It had almost been possible to forget that he was there. But now all the hum of negativity ceased, one whispered conversation at a time, until he stood in the midst of dead silence.

How the hell does he do it? she wondered, as she had wondered so many times before, and with the same flare of resentment. Was it the mythic clout he now wielded? But she knew better than that. It was something inherent to the man himself, however youthful the fleshly guise his essence currently wore.

"First Fang"—his deep baritone rolled over the room—"are we agreed that the Borden system is uninhabitable?"

"Of course," said Thraaiewlahk, clearly curious as to what Trevayne was driving at.

"And are we also agreed that it is a cul-de-sac system—a dead end with only one warp point?"

"This is self-evident."

"Very well, then. Even if we assume that the enemy has extended his control that far into the Bellerophon Arm . . . why should he keep any forces whatsoever in such a manifestly worthless system?"

Thraaiewlahk opened his mouth, then closed it again.

"I am in favor of Admiral Li's proposal." Trevayne's voice did not appreciably rise in volume, but in some indefinable way it filled the room to the exclusion of anything else. "She has offered us a way out of this intolerable deadlock. Does anyone have another way to offer? No? Well, I'm sure I bloody well don't! So I say our only honorable course is to support her to the hilt."

"But Admiral Trevayne," said Tolkaru in a kind of stammering rumble, "we cannot ignore the concerns the First Fang has raised, even if—as you have suggested—the probability is extremely low."

"Granted." Trevayne paused a moment. "It has already been established that the crew of this expedition will be volunteers, with a full understanding of what they are risking. I propose that the terms under which they volunteer include an agreement that, if absolutely necessary, they will blow up the ship rather than let it be captured." He gave his trademark crooked grin. "This may make it harder to get volunteers—but we'll still get them."

"We cannot take it upon ourselves to make such a decision," Tolkaru protested—but weakly, for a Gorm. "Our governments—"

"The government of the Terran Republic is already behind it," Li Han stated flatly.

"And I," said Ian Trevayne, "will undertake to assure that the Rim Federation will be." They all stared at him, knowing that he could do precisely that. "So if the Pan-Sentient Union . . ." He looked at Thraaiewlahk and raised one interrogatory eyebrow.

"Yes!" The Orion surged to his feet. "If we do not seize this chance, we forfeit the name of warriors! May our claws strike deep!"

You magnificent bastard! thought Li Han, staring at Trevayne. You knew damned well that with that suicide-pact clause you made this plan the concentrated, purified, and distilled essence of theernowlus—literally, "risk bearing." You played Thraaiewlahk like a Stradivarius!

"I agree," said Zhwaaraa. There wasn't a lot else the avian could have done in the face of the big-power consensus that had emerged. "But I sssuggest that we not ignore contingency planning in event of lack of sssuccesss. There is a human proverb—which we have alwaysss found to be in quessstionable tassste—about putting all of your eggssss in one basssket."

"Of course, Admiral," Trevayne nodded. ""We must not limit ourselves to a single technique. In particular, we should press forward with conventional survey work, in the hope of finding 'natural' warp lines into either or both of the isolated areas via closed warp points." There was a rumble of agreement, as everyone recalled the Bug War and the ultimately successful search for "El Dorado," the closed warp point into the Arachnids' Home Hive systems. "But we must recognize that it is only by statistically improbable chance that this can yield results."

"We must also continue to press conventional offensives along the known lines of approach," Tolkaru cautioned. "If only to keep the enemy's attention focused on the threats of which they are already aware."

"Also," Dr. Kasugawa piped up, "do not overlook the possibility of using other generators within our own existing warp networks, to create new cross-connections—"

"Yes!" Thraaiewlahk exclaimed. "This has the potential to improve our logistics immeasurably."

"And to provide routes around warp nexi that may be cut off in the future by new enemy incursions," added Tolkaru pessimistically.

"These ideas all have distinct possibilities, and will certainly be followed up," said Trevayne firmly. "But the fact remains that Admiral Li's is the only focused, war-winning strategy currently open to us. It is Bellerophon's only hope of liberation within the foreseeable future. It must be the centerpiece of our planning. And we must represent this to our governments in the strongest possible terms. Are we agreed?"

And so it was agreed. The course of the war was set.

As they were departing, Li Han managed to catch Trevayne alone.

"Admiral Trevayne . . . thank you," she said, not without difficulty. Then, with even more difficulty: "I . . . couldn't have done that."

"Oh, tosh!" he said airily. "I have a feeling that what really did it was the sight of the two of us on the same side. I fancy none of them had ever expected to see that."

"Probably not," she agreed with a smile. But beneath her smile, she wondered what it must have been like, seeing two legendary archenemies standing together. "I certainly never did."

"Then," he said, suddenly serious, "perhaps you can imagine what it's like for me. Remember, what . . . occurred between us is a matter of recent memory in my case. I haven't had eight subjective decades for it to fade."

"I hadn't thought of it like that," she admitted. "Yes, I suppose the past was more difficult for you to overcome. Not," she had to add, "that it wasn't difficult for me. But . . . I think we've overcome it."

"I think we may have. Later generations will just have to come up with another pair of names to use as a byword for enmity."

"Their problem," she said shortly. She extended her hand. He took it. A journey ended, and another began. Neither of them knew where it would end. But they both knew it had begun.

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Framed

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Contents

Chapter Twenty-Two
"Welcome to Zephrain, Admiral Li."

As her interorbital shuttle nosed its way into the hanger bay of the main space station of Xanadu Skywatch, Li Han examined her feelings with clinical detachment and realized, to her intense annoyance, that she had butterflies in her stomach.

Absurd! She made adjustments to the gold-edged deep-blue-and-white dress uniform she was wearing for this occasion in preference to the more usual civvies of her First Space Lord persona—and then became even more annoyed as she became aware she was doing it. Self-consciousness too? Really, Han! You're acting about a tenth of your age.

She had thought she was doing well on emergence from the warp point into the light of this sun that held so many bitter memories for her. The choice of Zephrain to host the first meeting of all the allied fleet commanders in chief had been a political one. The Rim Federation, after all, was the first star nation to be attacked by this new enemy-without-a-name. But she knew there was more to it than that. There was also the near-mythic status of the man who was about to welcome her to this system, where he had once held her captive.

She dismissed the thought defiantly. At least the Terran Republic's politicians had insisted on a compromise. The Rim Federation's capital system would host the conference, but it would actually take place aboard the TRN flagship. Han's lips formed a grim smile. TRNS Taconic had doubtless already caused eyebrows to raise and jaws to drop as she had eased into orbit around Xanadu. And she hadn't even shown them the inside yet. She was looking forward to that.

But first, of course, formality demanded that she first pay a call on her host. She anticipated a certain sense of unreality.

The shuttle came to rest and the hatch wheezed open. Li Han stood up, motioned to her entourage to wait, and stepped out onto the ramp all alone.

At once the cavernous hangar bay's sound system broke into the Terran Republic's anthem—a nice courtesy, she had to admit—and an honor guard of RFN Marines clicked to attention. The last time she had seen those forest-green tunics and black trousers, they had clothed her jailers. But she had no eyes for them. Her attention was riveted on the figure who stepped forward from a multispecies group at the foot of the ramp—a tall figure in the black-and-silver of the old Terran Federation Navy, but with the Rim shoulder flash. She descended the ramp to face him.

She had prepared herself for the fact that he would look no older than his early twenties. Reconciling that with his fleet admiral's insignia wasn't as hard for her as it would have been for someone from the centuries before antigerone treatments had blurred traditional notions of how authority figures were supposed to look. But it was hard to reconcile with her memories of a man who'd been older than her and looked it.

She wondered how he was coping with her pure white hair and general sixtyish appearance—and with the fact that now she too was a fleet admiral. But legally he had more seniority, even though she had more life experience, to the tune of what were traditionally called generations. And she was, of course, coming aboard his space station. So she saluted him with scrupulous correctness.

He returned her salute. "Welcome to Zephrain, Admiral Li." Yes, it was the same voice, even though formed by a physiologically younger throat. And his features were recognizable, though unlined. The absence of a beard and the presence of thick hair (He must have loved that part, she thought tartly) took some getting used to. But yes, it was he, beyond any possibility of doubt.

For an instant, they stood armored in formality.

Well, she decided, someone has to make the first move. And I'm the older and—I like to think—wiser.

"I imagine, Admiral Trevayne, you never expected to say those precise words."

"Actually," he said with the dryness she remembered, "I've had some practice. You're the second Admiral Li we've welcomed to the Rim Federation. And since Third Bellerophon, we've been very glad to have the first one."

"Thank you, Admiral," she replied, determined to keep up the badinage. "I hope I don't turn out to be a disappointment by comparison with my daughter."

"I hardly think so. I'm only glad our warp point was able to accommodate your ship."

She smiled in spite of herself. "Yes, that would have been awkward, wouldn't it? But we naturally took it into account. And I'm looking forward to receiving you and the other allied commanders aboard Taconic."

"Not as much as I'm looking forward to touring the prototype devastator," he said with an unaffected eagerness that seemed more in keeping with his apparent age than his actual one, however defined. "But first, let me introduce you to my colleagues."

First Fang of the Khan Thraaiewlahk'gahrnak was currently sky marshal by virtue of a tradition that alternated human and Orion officers in the post of the PSUN's military commander in chief. His whiskers were luxuriant, his coppery pelt beginning to show the silver that betokened age in a race for which no equivalent of the antigerone regimen had ever been discovered. Li Han made a point of being especially courteous in exchanging salutes with him, and took care to demonstrate her understanding of the Tongue of Tongues. The Terran Federation's proposed amalgamation with the Khanate had been the proximate cause of the Fringe Revolution, and the people of the Terran Republic still had a reputation—which Han knew to be false, albeit understandable—for anti-Orion bigotry. But the old Tabby lost no time in relieving her of any anxiety she might have felt.

"Ahhdmiraaaal Liii, I am honored to meet the First Fang of your nation—and even more honored to meet the mother of your daughter. Least Fang Zhaairnow'ailaaioun has related the tale of how she made possible the escape of many of the Zheeerlikou'valkhannaiee, at great risk to herself, while taking a heavy toll of the chofaki. Our claws are hers," he concluded formally.

"I am honored, First Fang, as I am sure she would be." Li Han meant it. She didn't claim to be an expert on the Orions, of whom there were none in the Republic, but she knew what that last expression of honor debt meant. If Mags ever needed anyone killed, she had only to ask.

Thraaiewlahk introduced her to his staffers. They included both of the PSU's principal races, and one Gorm, Tolkaru, known as "Task Force Leader" among a race that had no structured system of military ranks. The gray, thick-hided centauroid was standing at his race's equivalent of "attention," on the lowest pair of limbs alone, which brought his eerily humanlike face to a height of three meters. But Li Han controlled her annoyance at having to look even further up than usual. The race's status inside-but-not-of the Khanate had always puzzled humans, and its relationship to the PSU was almost as ambivalent as the Rim Federation's. There was no ambivalence about the respect in which the massive heavy-planet dwellers were held as fighters, however.

"Fleet Admiral Zhwaaraa of the Ophiuchi Association Defense Command," Trevayne concluded the introductions. Li Han recalled that Terra's long-standing allies the Ophiuchi had adopted the human naval rank structure. She also recalled that they had broken out of the warp cul-de-sac that had long confined them (by unintended courtesy of a race called the Sedua, who had been ill-advised enough to attack them through a closed warp point). So their traditional minor-power status was now rapidly becoming a thing of the past. And they had always been handy in a fight, for the simple reason that they were the best fighter pilots in the known galaxy, not excepting the Orions. Descendants of avians, they had evolved into tool users at the cost of the ability to fly—but not at the cost of the innate sense of relative motion in three dimensions that was their heritage. Once again, Li Han had to strain her neck to look up into Zhwaaraa's beaked and crested countenance, for his feathered, hollow-boned body (somewhat similar to that of an emaciated humanoid) lifted it two and a half meters.

Li Han introduced her own staffers. "In addition," she concluded, "I asked Dr. Kasugawa to accompany me. He agreed, even though Dr. Desai could ill afford to spare him. You'll be meeting him aboard Taconic."

"Ah, yes." Trevayne nodded. "I'm definitely looking forward to making his acquaintance, in light of what we've all heard. Ah . . . I gather Dr. Desai herself has not accompanied you."

"No," Li Han said carefully. "Strictly speaking, she is Admiral Desai now. She is back on the active list, and is working with the PSU's Bureau of Ships. The press of her affairs made it impossible for her to come."

"Too bad. I'd looked forward to seeing her. She used to be my chief of staff, you know."

"Yes, I know," said Li Han, who also had a very good idea of the real reason for Desai's absence—although, she reflected, Trevayne's impossible physical youth might, paradoxically, have made it easier. "And now, let me invite everyone aboard Taconic. We are rather proud of her, you know."

The allied brass were still looking somewhat dazed from their tour of Taconic when they took their seats (or whatever; Li Han mentally congratulated herself for remembering to lay in some of the saddlelike couches the Gorm used for chairs) in the conference room.

Some of them looked a bit puzzled as they took their places on the crescent-shaped terraces that overlooked the vast holo tank in which floated an immaterial warp-line chart of the Bellerophon Arm and a great deal else besides. Why, they wondered, was a three-dimensional display needed?

Li Han took her place at a table facing the guests from across the tank. Dr. Kasugawa shared the table with her. He was, she could tell, even more of a focus of interest than the holo tank, for by now all of these people had heard of his and Sonja Desai's work.

"Admiral Trevayne," she began formally, "as most senior officer present, and as military commander in chief of the Rim Federation, the first victim of these beings' aggression, I will ask you to open these proceedings by summarizing the situation with respect to the Bellerophon Arm."

"Thank you, Admiral Li." Trevayne stepped around the holo tank to take her place at the table, moving with a jauntiness appropriate to his apparent youth. But when he spoke, any illusion of callowness vanished. "Not to put too fine a point on it, the 'situation' is bloody awful. You've all been provided with the statistical summary of Admiral Waldeck's latest attempt to break into the Bellerophon System. I and my staff have analyzed it, and have concluded that no blame can be attached to him or anyone else for its failure. I have so informed the cabinet of the Rim Federation. I believe the same can be said for the more recent attempt to counterattack the incursion into the Pan-Sentient Union." A growl of gloomy agreement came from Thraaiewlahk's direction. "In both cases, we inflicted heavy losses on the enemy, partly due to our neutralization of the 'stealth scrambler.' We are, of course, routing reinforcements to Second Fleet in the Astria system, and can continue to build up our force there practically ad infinitum. But while we're doing so, the enemy is breaking up more of his smaller generation ships into SDSes."

There was a heavy silence. Taconic had, in an odd way, brought home to these people the system-defense ships' almost inconceivable size. Touring the devastator, they hadn't been able to forget that an SDS was three hundred times its tonnage. Trevayne let them think about it a moment before continuing inexorably.

"All the quibbling in the galaxy about the relative inefficiency of the SDS's design can't alter the firepower advantage it gives them. And while its lack of speed and maneuverability would put it at a disadvantage in a war of movement, we have to break away from the warp point before it can become a war of movement. That's what Admiral Waldeck tried to do. And we know what came of it."

"Yes," Thraaiewlahk acknowledged. "Their fighters are no match for our space superiority fighters at anything like even odds—that much was demonstrated. But we all know the difficulty of launching fighters in sufficient numbers while a warp-point assault is still in progress. That is even more true with these monster ships. They can smother the transiting ships with missile fire from long range like the chofaki they are." He barely troubled to keep the contempt out of his voice. Chofaki—delicately translated into Standard English as "dirt eaters"—meant beings too inherently honorless to be amenable to the warrior code of theernowlus. "And because our ships must be able to make warp transits, there is no escaping their crippling disadvantage in size—even with this awesome ship of yours, Ahhdmiraaaal Liii. No," the old Orion continued, drawing himself up and visibly mustering the moral courage to face up to an intolerable truth. "I see no way to carry out a warp-point assault without incurring totally unacceptable casualties."

There was dead silence. Everyone knew what it had cost Thraaiewlahk to say that. When an Orion called casualties "unacceptable," he was taken seriously.

After a moment, Li Han spoke with the diffidence she had never managed to entirely lose, even though she knew not everyone found it either convincing or endearing. "Admiral Trevayne . . . First Fang . . . Admiral Zhwaaraa . . . I gather we are agreed that we find ourselves at an impasse." No one broke the gloom to contradict her. She stood up. "The Terran Republic—with the help of the Pan-Sentient Union—is prepared to propose a way to break that impasse."

She could tell she had their undivided attention.

"You have the floor, Admiral Li," said Trevayne.

She stepped around the table and pointed a remote at the warp-line display in the tank. An icon in the Bellerophon Arm began to flash on and off for attention. It was a backwater: a cul-de-sac system with only one warp point, at the end of a "spur" connected to the main arm through a starless warp nexus.

"The Borden System," said Li Han. "A red dwarf star with no habitable planets." Leaving her audience to wonder why she had even mentioned such a worthless bit of cosmic detritus, she walked around the perimeter of the tank to an area where the spreading warp network extended into the Terran Republic. She pointed her remote again, and another icon began to blink. "ZQ-147," she stated. "A starless warp nexus."

The general puzzlement deepened, as the two icons flickered across the tank from each other.

Li Han permitted herself a smile which, in anyone else, would have been called mischievous. "Our programmers are very proud of themselves for this," she murmured, and pointed the remote again. . . .

Chaos!

There was a collective hubbub as everyone rose to their feet to stare down into the tank, where the string-lights of warp lines had vanished and the icons of star systems—far fewer icons, it seemed—were scrambled into a pattern with no resemblance to the former one, with the colors of the various star nations all intermingled.

The only apparent connection between the new display and the former one was the two blinking icons. But now they were side by side, practically touching.

"What you are seeing," Li Han explained, "is something no one except astronomers has given any thought to for centuries: the real arrangement of the stars in three-dimensional space—the space of Newton and Einstein. Only a fraction of those from the warp line display show at all, for the simple reason that most of them lie outside the volume of space this display includes—far outside it in many cases. But the important fact is this: the Borden system and the ZQ-147 warp nexus lie only 2.21 light-years apart in real space." (She used the traditional measure of interstellar distances, based on the year of Old Terra.)

"Ssso we sssee," said Zhwaaraa in the silibant tones his race gave to Standard English. "But the relevanccce . . .?"

Li had restored the warp-line display, to the general relief. "We propose an expedition from ZQ-147 to Borden . . . an expedition across normal space."

"Across normal space?" someone blurted. A low hubbub arose at such an unheard-of idea.

"Precisely. The purpose will be to transport a Kasugawa generator." The confused buzz halted abruptly. "You are all aware by now of the work Doctors Kasugawa and Desai have been doing. You know that paired and aligned Kasugawa generators, activated simultaneously, can in effect punch a hole in the continuum"—Dr. Kasugawa winced as though in severe intestinal pain—"and forge a new warp line between them. We meant to take advantage of this. Once the generator is in place in the Borden System, we will use it to open a direct warp link—the first artificial warp link in history—between that system and ZQ-147, where the second generator of the pair will be located." She pointed the remote again, but this time it was like a sword thrust. A very long string-light appeared, stretching more than halfway across the tank from one flashing icon to the other. "I will then undertake to lead a fleet of devastators through this warp link into the Bellerophon Arm. As I'm sure you all agree after your tour of this ship, the devastators are far more formidable than anything the enemy has except the SDSes—and those are confined to the Bellerophon System by their sheer size, which makes warp transit out of the question for them. We will retake all of the Arm except Bellerophon itself, into which the enemy will be sealed. They will, of course, continue to strengthen the defenses of Bellerophon, but they will have only the finite resources of that system to do it with. And those defenses will have to be split between two or more warp points rather than concentrated on one. We will finally be able to fight our way into Bellerophon and liberate it, which of course is our primary objective"

The basso profundissimo of the Gorm's otherwise astonishingly good Standard English broke the silence. "I can see certain problems with this," said Tolkaru, even as he rapidly manipulated the minicomputer strapped to one of his massive primary arms. "First of all, the route from Borden to the main Bellerophon Arm leads through the starless warp nexus BR-06 to the Mercury binary system. And that warp connection is impassable even to a supermonitor, much less to a devastator."

"Evidently, Task Force Leader, you have not been exhaustively briefed on the capabilities of the Kasugawa generator. It can be used to increase the capacity of existing warp points—'dredge' them, as Dr. Desai put it, using a term derived from Old Terra's wet-navy history—to up to twice that needed to accommodate a devastator. Our fleet will carry additional generators for this purpose."

"All very well," hissed Zhwaaraa. "But the fact remainsss that the Desai Drive's top ssspeed is only one half that of light."

"Precisely," said Thraaiewlahk with the nod he had picked up over many years of association with humans. "So the crossing you propose would take four point four two Standard years. Of course, the crews would enjoy some relativistic time-dilation advantage—"

"To be exact, First Fang, the voyage from ZQ-147 to Borden would take three point eight five subjective years at the zero point five c possible to the Desai Drive." Li Han raised a hand. "Before anyone draws any conclusions from that, I would ask that Dr. Kasugawa be heard, for I have asked him and Dr. Desai to turn their attention to the problems inherent in my proposal."

There was no objection, and the elderly scientist stood slowly up. "Elderly" was a word that came naturally to people, even though he was well under a century. He had come to antigerone treatments fairly late, and had the look that humans still tended to associate with mature wisdom.

"First Space Lord Li already knows what I am about to tell you, as a result of the PSU's new policy of information sharing with the Terran Republic. But I must ask you to regard it as sensitive beyond even the overall classification of this meeting.

"Briefly, and in nontechnical language, Dr. Desai and I believe it will be possible to achieve very significant improvements in performance over the Desai Drive. We have dubbed this new application the 'Desai Prime' drive. It is an 'all-or-nothing' drive which can only operate at its top speed, attained instantaneously, of approximately zero point eight five c." Kasugawa waited for the gasps to die down before continuing in somber tones. "There are drawbacks. The most obvious is that the drive has no tactical applications, as it is moving at maximum velocity or not at all. More seriously, this velocity is at the very limit of radiation and particle shielding's ability to protect a crew. Nevertheless, if the drive proves to be practical—"

"If?'" someone queried.

"—as Dr. Desai has every confidence that it will, the duration of the expedition Admiral Li proposes will be reduced to two point six Standard years from the standpoint of an outside observer, or only one point three seven standard year as experienced by the crew."

"Thank you, Dr. Kasugawa,' said Li Han, perhaps a little too hastily. "I should point out," she continued, addressing the audience, "that the transit time, while admittedly very long compared to the interstellar travel times to which we have been accustomed for centuries, is in a sense no disadvantage at all. It will take very nearly that long to complete the construction of the devastators we have earmarked for the offensive anyway."

Tolkaru was not to be sidetracked. "Let us discuss the crew of this expedition," he rumbled in the inexorable Gormish way. "One assumes that they will be volunteers—"

"Naturally," Li Han interjected.

"—and that they will be provided with the best shielding and armor modern science can provide. Nevertheless, on the optimistic assumption that they survive the voyage, we must consider what will happen when they arrive. What if the Kasugawa generator fails to work? They would be stranded, would they not?"

"That is correct, Task Force Leader," Li Han replied unflinchingly.

Thraaiewlahk spoke up . . . and in tones that caused Li Han's heart to sink. She had been counting on his support, for as an Orion he would hardly be concerned with risk to the volunteer crew. "I have studied the data on the Kasssugawwa generator. It is, of necessity, a massive piece of equipment. We must assume that the ship will be built around it—essentially, the generator and a very long-term life-support system with a Desssai Prime drive attached. It could not possibly carry any significant armament."

"No, First Fang," Li Han admitted, knowing what was coming next.

"So if the ship arrives at its destination and finds the enemy in possession of that system, it will be unable to defend itself."

"We have no knowledge that the enemy have, in fact, occupied the Borden System, First Fang." Li Han could hear the lameness in her own voice.

"No. In fact, we have no knowledge whatsoever of what has transpired in the Arm since the initial enemy incursion, do we? So you cannot deny the possibility that the enemy may have picketed the destination system. And if they have, then the expedition will be defenseless prey." The old Orion held her eyes, and she could not look away. "It was you humans, Ahhdmiraaaal Liii, who taught my ancestors—and charged a heavy tuition for the lesson—that the honor of a warrior must be subordinated to the cold logic of military necessity. It is an absolute necessity that the Kasssugawwa generator must not fall into the hands of these chofaki, who are already very experienced in normal-space interstellar flight. The potential consequences do not bear contemplating." He gave a head shake that was as uncannily human as his nod. "No. This is too risky."

Li Han looked around desperately. She could see—no, feel—the sense of the meeting going Thraaiewlahk's and Tolkaru's way.

Then, just as the general mood was about to congeal into a firm consensus of opposition, Ian Trevayne rose slowly to his feet.

He had been oddly silent for a long time. It had almost been possible to forget that he was there. But now all the hum of negativity ceased, one whispered conversation at a time, until he stood in the midst of dead silence.

How the hell does he do it? she wondered, as she had wondered so many times before, and with the same flare of resentment. Was it the mythic clout he now wielded? But she knew better than that. It was something inherent to the man himself, however youthful the fleshly guise his essence currently wore.

"First Fang"—his deep baritone rolled over the room—"are we agreed that the Borden system is uninhabitable?"

"Of course," said Thraaiewlahk, clearly curious as to what Trevayne was driving at.

"And are we also agreed that it is a cul-de-sac system—a dead end with only one warp point?"

"This is self-evident."

"Very well, then. Even if we assume that the enemy has extended his control that far into the Bellerophon Arm . . . why should he keep any forces whatsoever in such a manifestly worthless system?"

Thraaiewlahk opened his mouth, then closed it again.

"I am in favor of Admiral Li's proposal." Trevayne's voice did not appreciably rise in volume, but in some indefinable way it filled the room to the exclusion of anything else. "She has offered us a way out of this intolerable deadlock. Does anyone have another way to offer? No? Well, I'm sure I bloody well don't! So I say our only honorable course is to support her to the hilt."

"But Admiral Trevayne," said Tolkaru in a kind of stammering rumble, "we cannot ignore the concerns the First Fang has raised, even if—as you have suggested—the probability is extremely low."

"Granted." Trevayne paused a moment. "It has already been established that the crew of this expedition will be volunteers, with a full understanding of what they are risking. I propose that the terms under which they volunteer include an agreement that, if absolutely necessary, they will blow up the ship rather than let it be captured." He gave his trademark crooked grin. "This may make it harder to get volunteers—but we'll still get them."

"We cannot take it upon ourselves to make such a decision," Tolkaru protested—but weakly, for a Gorm. "Our governments—"

"The government of the Terran Republic is already behind it," Li Han stated flatly.

"And I," said Ian Trevayne, "will undertake to assure that the Rim Federation will be." They all stared at him, knowing that he could do precisely that. "So if the Pan-Sentient Union . . ." He looked at Thraaiewlahk and raised one interrogatory eyebrow.

"Yes!" The Orion surged to his feet. "If we do not seize this chance, we forfeit the name of warriors! May our claws strike deep!"

You magnificent bastard! thought Li Han, staring at Trevayne. You knew damned well that with that suicide-pact clause you made this plan the concentrated, purified, and distilled essence of theernowlus—literally, "risk bearing." You played Thraaiewlahk like a Stradivarius!

"I agree," said Zhwaaraa. There wasn't a lot else the avian could have done in the face of the big-power consensus that had emerged. "But I sssuggest that we not ignore contingency planning in event of lack of sssuccesss. There is a human proverb—which we have alwaysss found to be in quessstionable tassste—about putting all of your eggssss in one basssket."

"Of course, Admiral," Trevayne nodded. ""We must not limit ourselves to a single technique. In particular, we should press forward with conventional survey work, in the hope of finding 'natural' warp lines into either or both of the isolated areas via closed warp points." There was a rumble of agreement, as everyone recalled the Bug War and the ultimately successful search for "El Dorado," the closed warp point into the Arachnids' Home Hive systems. "But we must recognize that it is only by statistically improbable chance that this can yield results."

"We must also continue to press conventional offensives along the known lines of approach," Tolkaru cautioned. "If only to keep the enemy's attention focused on the threats of which they are already aware."

"Also," Dr. Kasugawa piped up, "do not overlook the possibility of using other generators within our own existing warp networks, to create new cross-connections—"

"Yes!" Thraaiewlahk exclaimed. "This has the potential to improve our logistics immeasurably."

"And to provide routes around warp nexi that may be cut off in the future by new enemy incursions," added Tolkaru pessimistically.

"These ideas all have distinct possibilities, and will certainly be followed up," said Trevayne firmly. "But the fact remains that Admiral Li's is the only focused, war-winning strategy currently open to us. It is Bellerophon's only hope of liberation within the foreseeable future. It must be the centerpiece of our planning. And we must represent this to our governments in the strongest possible terms. Are we agreed?"

And so it was agreed. The course of the war was set.

As they were departing, Li Han managed to catch Trevayne alone.

"Admiral Trevayne . . . thank you," she said, not without difficulty. Then, with even more difficulty: "I . . . couldn't have done that."

"Oh, tosh!" he said airily. "I have a feeling that what really did it was the sight of the two of us on the same side. I fancy none of them had ever expected to see that."

"Probably not," she agreed with a smile. But beneath her smile, she wondered what it must have been like, seeing two legendary archenemies standing together. "I certainly never did."

"Then," he said, suddenly serious, "perhaps you can imagine what it's like for me. Remember, what . . . occurred between us is a matter of recent memory in my case. I haven't had eight subjective decades for it to fade."

"I hadn't thought of it like that," she admitted. "Yes, I suppose the past was more difficult for you to overcome. Not," she had to add, "that it wasn't difficult for me. But . . . I think we've overcome it."

"I think we may have. Later generations will just have to come up with another pair of names to use as a byword for enmity."

"Their problem," she said shortly. She extended her hand. He took it. A journey ended, and another began. Neither of them knew where it would end. But they both knew it had begun.

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