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here and get your men ready. You ve got the rest of your life to look at old
ships. The auction is now.
Amy was quiet throughout the return passage. Once she whispered, He s really
going to give it to me, and clutched Moyshe s hand. She was shaking.
He s an amateur, benRabi told her. You haven t been chewed out till you ve
taken it from Admiral Beckhart. A moment later he grinned and added, But if
it s private, he lets you yell back.
Soon after they returned they heard that another of the great harvestfleets
was entering the nebula. The news generated a fresh air of excitement
aboardDanion.
One by one, the harvestfleets came in. Scores of fresh, eager young faces
appeared aboardDanion as graduates of Seiner technical schools filled the
billets of people lost at Stars End. The howl and hammer of repairs went on
around the clock. The excitement and tension continued to mount.
They were going back. This time in full strength, and to stay. A prideful,
nationalistic, bellicose mood gripped the fleets.
Moyshe benRabi and Masato Storm pursued their instruction of the teams they
would direct on The Broken Wings. Their days were long and exhausting. Moyshe
often tumbled into bed without enough energy left for a good-night kiss.
He began to feel the pressure. It started to intrude into his sleeping hours.
He began to dream of the girl he had left behind, so long ago. He suffered
more momentary lapses of attention while he was awake.
He began to grow frightened of what might be going on back in the nether
reaches of his mind.
Eleven: Christmas 3049 AD
The Contemporary Scene
Tension gripped the bridge of the attack cruiserLepanto. One minute to
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drop, the astrogation officer announced.
Jupp von Drachau scanned his people. They were poised like runners in the
blocks, awaiting the crack of the starter s pistol. They would have to grab an
enormous fund of data in a few brief minutes.
Lepantowas coming up to an enemy star. There was no way of guessing what
might be waiting. Detection gear would not work from hyper unless initial
detection had been made in norm. The cruiser was going in blind.
No one knew the capabilities of the Sangaree detection systems. Operating
from norm, they would not have the same handicap. A force might be moving
toward the drop zone now.
Thirty seconds.
Stand by, Weapons, von Drachau ordered. Button up, people. He sealed the
faceplate of his own helmet.
One quick drop to get his bearings, then a short arc in to the fringes of the
Sangaree sun . . .
Five seconds. Four. Three.
The figures on the bridge hunched forward a centimeter more.
One. Drop.
Screens up.
Commander, heavy vessels bearing . . .
Display active.
Three ships bearing . . .
Range to star one point three two a.u . . .
We have a local inherent velocity of . . .
Attack missiles bearing . . .
Bridge. Weapons. Launching two salvos.
The vessel shuddered and rocked. Von Drachau stared at the display tank. Six
red blips had come to life there. They sped along projected curves which would
bring them within spitting distance ofLepanto. Tiny ruby pinpoints raced
ahead, toward the cruiser.
. . . time to intercept forty-seven seconds . . .
The hyper alarm commenced its hooted warning to the crew. Time to hyper one
minute, a voice boomed.
Someone said, Commander, we ve located the planet.
Bring me up a visual.
Aye, sir.
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Von Drachau s command screen came to life. For an instant it displayed a
computer graphic of the local solar system. The schematic yielded to a visual
from an external camera. It showed a white third-crescent. The amplification
rose quickly, revealing a world heavy with clouds and seas. Looks a lot like
Old Earth, von Drachau murmured.
Yes sir.
Are you taping?
We re getting everything we can, sir.
Twenty seconds to hyper.
Von Drachau glanced at the display tank. The missile salvos were driving
closer. Weapons Department was not bothering with anything but defensive fire.
Considering the nature of the mission, engaging a handful of raidships was
pointless. Anything near that sun? he asked.
No sir. We have a lot of activity near and on the planet.
That made sense. The Sangaree would be scrambling everything in fear
thatLepanto might be the spearhead of a thrust against their Homeworld. That
was the doom they had dreaded for centuries.
Hyper in five seconds. Four.
Von Drachau did not think these picket ships would jump with him. They should
await the rest of a suspected battle fleet.
One. Taking.
The universe shifted. Screens went blank. The display tank, cued in norm,
remained active. Von Drachau stared, willing the Sangaree raidships to remain
where they were.
One minute to drop. Astrogation had programed a very short, slow arc.
Von Drachau reached back into his soul, searching for any wisp of feeling
that might bear on the orders he had to give. He did not want to do this
thing. Every cell of him protested. And yet . . . And yet he knew too much. He
knew the critical importance of obtaining results. And he had his own orders.
Special Weapons Party, stand by.
His orders would be a formality. The pre-launch program had begun an hour
ago. The only significant command he could give now would be the abort.
He checked the tank again.
Damn! They were coming. Their detection gear was good. They knew no one
else was coming in right away. Looks like we knocked over a beehive, he
said. The six raidships from the drop zone were being joined by a horde
quartering in from the planet.
Twenty seconds till drop.
It would be a narrow squeak, making the launch and getting clear in time. And
some of them would chase him all the way home . . . Astrogation, program your
next jump for Carson s. He did not want to lead the pursuit too close to the
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action on The Broken Wings.
Sir?
Pull the cassette and reprogram. An attack squadron would be on station
near Carson s. He could scoot in and cling to its protective skirts.
Yes sir.
Drop.
Special Weapons Party, launch when ready.
There. It was too late to take it back. Too late to keep from having to live
with it the rest of his life.
Special Weapons launch in three minutes, twelve seconds, launch party
captain replied.
What s the holdup? We ve got Sangaree crawling up our backs.
Sorry, sir. A coupling jammed.
Long range hunter missiles bearing . . .
Visuals, please, von Drachau said. His screen came to life. Show me the
star.
In a second he was staring at an endless plain of fire. Broad continental
reaches of darkness lay upon it. The star appeared to be passing through a
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