Pon paused for a moment, to question whether or not his action
was warranted.  It was.  He was angry because Lothair had
threatened to go against orders.  In a situation like this, Lothair
had to realize that Pon was trying to protect him, not tie him down. 
Astrid might not be in danger at the moment, but Lothair’s rash
actions might have put her in danger.

    And Pon was not about to have that.  The crew of KB was the
best crew the Union had assembled since the last Berkeshire had
been decommissioned.  Forget it, he thought to himself, the crew
of KB was practically the best crew the Union had assembled,
ever.  The only reason why Lothair had been so adamant was
because he was loyal, not because he was eager to pester the
Admiral.  Pon decided to consider whether or not KB could go out
or not.  Perhaps the environment might be safer if they could just
get the ship out of Midsystem without being detected.  Once past
the orbit of Mars, Terra’s power rapidly dwindled.

    The very principle which made the Union powerful kept Terra
at bay from the very start--space ships were most useful in space,
not mothballed on planets.  So Terran ships, which had been called
in close to Terra were now surrounded on all sides by Union ships.

    However, the Union at this time was as fragile as it was
powerful.  Any overexertion of its reach could shatter the entire
organization.  Constructing KB was hard enough--what would be
harder in the face of the Belts?
 

    “We’re going there,” Wilde said.  “Helm, plot course for
co-ordinates five point nine kiloparsecs two degrees west by five
degrees north.”

    “Captain,” Ensign Mora said, “Admiral T’San said we didn’t
have to know the significance of those co-ordinates.”

    “You might not need them, but I do, Ensign,” Wilde said, “Now
plot the course and go to thirty five marks ion.  We have two hours
to get there, scan the area, and get back without getting detected.”

    “Captain,” Mora said.  But Wilde interrupted her.

    “Ensign, I’ll plot the course for you if you do not comply.  If
that becomes necessary, I’ll also remove you from the Bridge.”

    Mora turned back to her station and input the co-ordinates. 
Wilde watched, to make sure she had pressed the correct keys. 
Shepherd didn’t say anything.  The stars shifted silently as S. S.
Neptune headed toward the place where Captain Evans had made
his last stand.  Wilde sat back in his seat on the Bridge and waited.
 

    “Do you know what happened to the Captain?” MacHaley said
to Lura’aknul.

    “Sorry, sir.  I have no idea,” she answered.

    MacHaley felt the working of Lura’aknul’s fingers behind him. 
He had awakened only a few minutes ago, leaning against a wall. 
He and Lura’aknul had worked their way across the empty room.

    “I’ve got it,” Lura’aknul said.  MacHaley suddenly felt parts of
the thick restraining bands go limp.

    “I think that’s it,” Lura’aknul continued.  She shifted behind
him.  “I’ve been awake for several minutes longer than you,” she
said, “I believe the guards will arrive soon to check in on us.”

    “Keep up the good work,” MacHaley said.  “Have you any idea
of where Commander West is?”

    “I only awakened here, as the effects of the stun wore off.”

    MacHaley felt the bands around his wrists loosen.  He pulled his
hands free.

    “Thank you,” he said.  He unwound the bonds that had held
him, freeing up his arms from the slave’s harness’ bindings.  Then
he began to work on Lura’aknul.

    “How are we getting out?” Lura’aknul asked.

    “Not sure yet.  We’ll have to figure out where we are first.”

    “Do you think we’re aboard the ship that attacked us?”

    “It might be a likely conclusion, judging from the look of the
room we’re in.  I can tell we’re still in space,” MacHaley said as he
finished undoing the fastenings that held Lura’aknul’s harness
together.  “Stuns don’t last long enough for a ship where we were
captured to make it all the way to a planet safely.  Unless they flew
very fast and obtained previous clearance; I doubt they did. 
Otherwise, we might be in a jail cell with a window instead of a
blank featureless room like this.

    “But, I could be wrong.”

    The two officers stood up, and examined the walls of the room.

    “They probably didn’t leave us a way out,” MacHaley said.

    “There may be a way that they didn’t realize was still open to
us,” Lura’aknul said.  “Let’s see if any of the hull plates in this
room cover anything up.”

    They began to work at the plates, hoping one was loose, or that
an access panel could be found somewhere in the room.  There had
to be something inside the room for them to use to get out.  The
room was completely featureless, with no plates anywhere along
its seamless walls or floor or ceiling.  Then Lura’aknul noticed
something.

    “Sir, this ceiling looks like holes have been drilled into it.”  She
pointed up to where a series of holes had been cut through the
ceiling.  But they were not spaced regularly at all.  It looked more
like the work of somebody in a hurry, than the work of somebody
who was interested in doing a job well.

    “This might explain what’s going on,” MacHaley said.  “We’re
probably sitting inside of a shipping crate, wondering which ship
we’re aboard.  There has to be a way out of this thing.”

    “If you give me a boost, I can try to look through the holes,”
Lura’aknul said.

    MacHaley knitted his two hands together and knelt down on one
knee.  He put his hands, palm sides up, on the knee not touching
the floor.  Lura’aknul put her foot into his hands, and he lifted her
up, until she could reach the ceiling.

    “I can tell that we’re inside another room.  There’s another
ceiling about five meters up from this one.”

    “Are there any cracks or seals that might let us know if this box
has a lid or not?”

    “I can’t tell,” Lura’aknul answered.

    “If this crate is sealed, then we know that the guards don’t care
about us.  Why lock us up in a box like this and seal off all the
exits?”

    “If this is a cargo crate, and we are in a cargo bay,” Lura’aknul
began, “then we could be used to gain leverage against the
Captain.  We would make valuable hostages.  In a cargo bay, all
the jailers would have to do is throw us into space.”

    “I wouldn’t want that to happen,” MacHaley said.

    “Then we had better find a way out,” Lura’aknul answered.

    “The simplest solution might be to rock the box until it tips
over.  Cargo crates aren’t made to be all that solid, just to hold
their contents in.”

    “With all considerations of personal injuries set aside for the
time being,” Lura’aknul said, “I’d say the idea might work.”  She
spoke with a dryness in her voice.

    “Ahem,” MacHaley cleared his throat, “we could be killed if we
remain inactive, if whatever demands our captor made have not
been fulfilled.”

    “We could be injured by our attempted escape and get killed for
escaping,” Lura’aknul said, “strictly in the Utilitarian sense,
wouldn’t it be better for us to avoid this problem altogether and
trust the Captain?”  She only dissented to attempt to get MacHaley
to consider the risks involved.

    “It would.  But we became Spacers so that we could protect
others.  The Captain’s life could be on the line, so we’d better try
to protect her from harm.  Don’t worry about considering the risks
just now, we’ve already put our necks on the block.”

    “I see,” Lura’aknul nodded.

    “With luck, this plan won’t work, because I can’t think of a
‘Plan B’ if it fails.”

    “A ‘Plan B?’ ”  Lura’aknul asked.

    “Something to try if the first plan fails.  But with no alternate
plan, if our rocking this crate doesn’t work, then we’re safe.”

    “Let’s do it,” Lura’aknul said.  The two officers stood at one
side of the crate, then bent to put their shoulders forward, then
charged toward the opposite side, less than two meters away.  It
wasn’t much of a charge, but the crate tipped as the two hit the
wall.  It didn’t tip back, but kept falling.  As it hit the floor, there
was a loud crack as the top of the crate flew off, ejected by the
force of the landing.

    MacHaley scrambled out of the crate, and looked around, only
to see that he was surrounded by guards, all with their laser pistols
trained on him.  The blinking red lights of the pistols and the red
dots of the pistol sights made MacHaley stop dead.

    “It’d be a shame to you if I had to blast you out of existence
with that look on your face, Commander,” one of the guards said.
 

    Wilde watched the stars slowly shift as his ship slowed down
and approached the co-ordinates.  He didn’t know what to expect. 
When he was like this, he believed he was at his worst.  Would
they find empty space, and would he face consequences for his
actions if he still decided not to co operate with Admiral T’San’s
plan?  What if there really was a convoy out there?  He had no idea
what he would do.

    Fortunately, an idea came to him quickly, as he saw the first
glint of something in space.  Something that was surely not a star.

    “My God,” Wilde said aloud on the Bridge, “what happened
here?”

    God did not have to answer that question for Wilde.  Captain
Wilde put the evidence together fast, as any good Union Spacer
should.  He knew what had happened, and he knew why it had
happened.  And he knew there was only one thing to do--it was
that answer that came from God.

    Ripped open ships and gutted vessels which once held Terrans,
Antrithixians, Lingñalli, Tal’adaar’aans, and Owlasi languished
from wounds too deep to heal.  Detritus of all sorts floated freely
in space, from empty uniforms, synthetic paper, handlinks,
communications boards and busted computer circuits, to cargo
crates burnt nearly beyond recognition, to uniforms and pressure
suits which were ripped open but far from empty.  In places, there
was still a glowing haze of plasma leakage, the lifeblood of a ship
slowly blowing out into space.  In a woeful contrast, tiny specks of
ice--red ice--floated freely in space.  Tiny red flakes and crystals
began to deposit on the viewing window, where the heat from
inside of the ship might melt them back into liquid
form--humanoid blood.

    “Navigational shielding to full power,” Shepherd said, knowing
the shields would prevent further drops of blood from gathering on
the ship or her hull.

    “Shepherd, summon all hands.  Tell them to find the nearest
viewport and look at this,” Wilde said.

    “Sir, some people might see this as treason against T’San,”
Mora said, “they might retaliate, and take command from you.”

    “This is an act of treason,” Wilde said.  “And that thunderclap
who calls herself an Admiral is going to deal with the
consequences of mass murder.”

    “Sir,” Shepherd said, “We have a report of a prisoner escape
coming in from Security.  What should I do?”
 

    “You’d better aim well,” MacHaley retaliated as his composure
swiftly returned.

    “Somebody’s bound to hit you,” the guard said.

    “You might think of who you’re aiming at!”  West hollered
from across the room.  His voice boomed like a true Marine
leader’s should.  “That man might be an easy target, sir,” West
continued, “But you can expect to get thrashed if he goes down!”

    “Go check the Marines,” the guard said.  One of his
subordinates sprinted across the massive cargo bay to see what
was happening, and hopefully to get control of the Marines.

    One guard was not enough.  There was a sound of somebody
being knocked to the floor, followed by a short scream of surprise. 
Then there was a sound of a sidearm skidding across the deck. 
Then there was a loud sound of exhalation, followed by the telltale
sound of a body hitting metal deckplates.

    “The only way you can tie up a Marine is if he’s dead!” West’s
voice boomed out loud.

    “That can be arranged,” the guard shouted back across the
room.

    “We’ve got a situation down here!” one of the guards shouted
into a commlink he carried.

    “Sir,” a voice crackled over the commlink’s microphone, “We
have a report of a prisoner escape coming in from Security.  What
should I do?”

    “You should tell him,” a commanding voice said, “that he
doesn’t have a situation if he follows my orders.  Tell him to get
his men to lower their arms and find a viewport, and if anything
happens to those Union officers and those Marines, that he’ll
answer to me personally!”

    The guard leader snatched the commlink from the man who had
just used it to call for help.

    “Sir, with all due respect, are you out of your mind?  We have
orders--”

    “If you don’t stow that gas, Mister,” the commanding voice
said, “I will stow it for you!  Things change, and right now, ‘with
all due respect’ you’d better get to the nearest viewport and take a
look.  Admiral T’San’s sold us on a lie, and I want everybody on
this ship of mine to see the truth.”

    “Sir?”  the guard leader tried to speak again.

    “Double time,” the commanding voice said.  “I apologize for
having to get your attention like that, but I mean business.  You
remember the rumors of an attack on the anti-K shipment we were
supposed to get?”

    “I do sir,” the guard leader said.

    “Well, those rumors were true,” the commanding voice said,
“and these people from the Union knew about that attack.  Down
to the exact co-ordinates where the attack took place.  Look
outside and you’ll see wrecked ships, some still leaking plasma. 
They weren’t destroyed that long ago, or they’d have drifted much
farther apart by now.  Besides, on the port side, you’ll note a
destroyed ship in our tractor beam:  she’s named the Arachne,
AGN - 2216.”

    The guard leader lowered his weapon.  Two commands, and less
than a minute later, his brigade and the Union officers were
looking out through the force field of the cargo bay, straight at a
chunk of debris emblazoned with the crest of the Admiralty’s
Galactic Network, the numbers “2216” and the name “Arachne.”

    Also, from a gaping wound in the massive hulk, there were
visible crates.  As S. S. Neptune moved in even closer, one of the
guards could discern separate letters stencilled on the side of the
container.
 

    Astrid saw the same view through the Bridge’s holographic
viewer.  She rubbed her wrists and her aching muscles, but
felt--for the most part--comfortable to be free again.  What caused
her emotional discomfort was outside on the high spaces:  the
vessel Captain Evans’ died aboard.

    “Take a look at that crate,” Wilde pointed over Astrid’s
shoulder to a crate visible through a rent in the hull of the
Arachne.

    “It’s the anti-KobalThi ammunition NeoTerra needed,” Astrid
said.

    “Captain,” Mora said, “sensors are showing signs of anti-K
ammunition discharges and explosions.  There is a distinctive
energy signature everywhere in the space around us, and it
matches the signature for anti-K ammunition.”

    “What are you going to do?” Astrid said.

    “What should be done,” Wilde said, “We’re going to get that
ansible and tow it to the Union.  And we’re going to send a signal
to everybody in NeoTerran space.  The truth must be exposed,
Captain, and it must be exposed now before T’San gets away with
this crime.  We’re taking her down.”

    “You’re sure you want to do this?” Shepherd asked.

    “More than anything.”

    “Maybe he’s right,” Astrid spoke of Shepherd, “taking on
Admiral T’San is a big move.  We--I hope I speak for everyone
aboard--have to get that ansible to Terra.  It might be a better idea
to hold back, and work at this through diplomatic channels.”

    “Admiral T’San’s got to be stopped,” Wilde said.

    “I know that, Captain.  But if we topple her regime, who’s
next?” Astrid asked, “She’s likely to declare herself Empress or
Dictator of NeoTerra and consolidate her power.”

    “I’m not letting T’San get away with this,” Wilde said.

    “Do you think that I am?” Astrid said.  “Right now, while
everything is unstable, T’San is going to be on her guard.  She will
be looking in every shadow and around every corner.  If she finds
anybody who will betray her, or who she even thinks will betray
her, then she will become all the more suspicious.
    “For the sake of the Union of Planetary Republics as a whole,
now is not the time to take her on.”

    Wilde stopped.  There was an awkward silence between the two
Captains.  Mora returned to her scans of the massive debris field
and Shepherd watched sensors at his panel, hoping to see a flight
data recorder, or a piece of any ship’s Strand processor.  Either
item would be useful as evidence if it could help people piece
together what happened here in space.

    Wilde weighed the decision quickly, but not without care. 
Astrid saw a change in his posture and the deep breath he took. 
He returned to the command console and sat down.

    “We still have an ansible to deliver,” Wilde said.

    “There will be refugees there too,” Astrid said.  “Will this ship
be able to support them as well?”

    “I don’t think she’ll be very fast with the added load of the
hedefrium cluster.”

    “There were tow freighters close to the assembly framework for
the ansible, but they may have been removed.  If they’re still there,
then we ought to be able to commandeer them to pull the thing.”

    “Is that why you took your Marines with you?”

    “Yes,” Astrid said.

    “We’ll have to rig tractor beams to pull the entire thing into
hyperspace at the same time.  We’re probably not going to make
hyperdrive mark four.  I’d say we have less than an hour before
everyone comes looking for my ship,” Wilde said.

    “Shall we?” Astrid asked.

    “Go for it.”
 

    A long gray metallic framework greeted the Neptune as she
decelerated from ion drive.

    “Take us closer,” Wilde said.  “Scan for life forms.”

    “There are about five hundred people on the shipwork
platform,” Mora reported.

    “That’s about right,” Astrid said.  “They should remain where
they are while we move into hyperspace.”

    “What about the automated tugs?”

    “The Dragonfly is equipped to reprogram them,” Astrid said.  “I
had the program written before we departed, so we could go in
quickly like this and take the entire shipworks with us.  The tugs
are all hyperspace capable, they just need to know where we are
going and when the voyage begins.”

    “Can we access the Dragonfly data banks?” Wilde asked.

    “I’ll input my command code and give you access.”  Astrid
walked to Shepherd’s panel and Shepherd hailed the Dragonfly.  A
message flashed on the hologram projector:  “access to database
denied.”  Astrid input her command code.  A moment later, the
message changed to:  “access granted.”

    “Shepherd, hail the shipwork platform when ready.”

    “Hailing now, sir,” Shepherd answered Wilde.

    A very worried looking man appeared on the main hologram
projector near the forward viewport.  He tugged at the sleeve of his
laboratory coat and straightened his Union uniform.

    “This is S. S. Neptune to Brice Shipworks Platform,” Wilde
said, “no need to worry.  Stand by to transmit this program to your
tugs.”  Wilde nodded to Shepherd.

    “I’ve got it sir,” Shepherd said.  “Transmitting.”

    “Thank you, Captain Wilde.”

    “We’re going to be maneuvering to tow the entire platform into
hyperspace.  Stand by; it’ll take us a few minutes to get into
position.  The tugs should automatically adjust.”

    “I’m transfering the program to the automated tugs, Captain. 
Stand by for my word.  I’ll probably be done before you are in
place.”

    “We’re leaving the channel open for you,” Wilde said.
 

    As the Neptune maneuvered into position, Mora reported
NeoTerran ships approaching from all sides.

    “Right now?” Wilde asked.  “We’re three minutes from being in
position.  We can’t fight them off.”

    “They’re two minutes out,” Mora said.

    “Prepare for battle--” Wilde said.  But Astrid interrupted him.

    “Now is not the time, Captain.”

    “We’ll be blown to bits if we don’t defend ourselves.”

    “We can sustain some damage before we get away.”

    “There are more than twenty ships coming our way, Captain,”
Wilde said, “there’s no way we can make it.  And if we don’t fight
them off, we’ll be destroyed in hyperspace on the way back to
Terra.”

    “I’m in the middle of maneuvering, sir,” Mora reported, “shall I
abort docking?”

    “No,” Astrid said.

    “Yes,” Wilde said.

    Astrid and Wilde turned to face each other.

    “We agreed that now is not the time to try to take Admiral
T’San on.  We should just leave,” Astrid said.

    “Twenty ships are saying that we can’t!”

    “You know,” MacHaley spoke up, “we really don’t have time
for this.  Maybe we should launch the Dragonfly.”

    “It’s not armed sufficiently,” Astrid said.

    “Then what about the Marines?”

    “MacHaley, I don’t want to get a war started here.  That’s not
why we’re taking the Hedefrium cluster.”

    “What about laying down cover fire,” Lura’aknul suggested.  “If
Neptune fires all her torpedos, we could program them to circle the
ship and attack anything that gets too close.”

    “How do you know what my pulsar torpedos can do?” Wilde
asked.

    “Pulsars aren’t new technology,” Lura’aknul said.  She
approached Shepherd’s board.  “May I?” she asked Shepherd.

    “If it doesn’t work,” Wilde said, “I have no idea what will.”

    Lura’aknul took that statement to be an affirmation, and she
began working on the computer program.

    “Upload the program to all torpedos, Shepherd,” Lura’aknul
said.

    “Sir?” Shepherd deferred to his Captain to get a reliable answer.

    “Do it,” Wilde said.

    “Firing.”

    Glowing torpedos blossomed from the Neptune’s tubes, moving
into circular paths about ten kilometers away.

    “We’ll be in position in one minute,” Mora reported.  “Final
approach.”

    The NeoTerran ships were now visible as faraway pinpricks of
light.  Wilde sat down at the Command Console.  He nervously
drummed his fingers on the armrest.

    “Trust me,” Astrid said.

    “Trust God,” Wilde said.  “Because without Him, we don’t have
a chance.”

    The first torpedos found their marks and broke from their
circular paths.  In seconds, they slammed into a NeoTerran ship
that dared to come within fifty kilometers of the Neptune.  The
ship backed off.

    “Forty five seconds out,” Mora reported.

    Fifteen of the remaining two hundred torpedos broke their
circular paths and cruised toward various targets.  They found
their marks and detonated.  Again, the NeoTerran ships backed
off.

    “It looks like it’s working,” MacHaley said.

    Fifty torpedos broke from the formation.  They followed targets,
but more than half of them were intercepted by a powerful
explosion.

    “Thirty seconds out,” Mora reported.

    “Can you cold-start our hyperdrive engines,” Wilde asked.  “I
don’t want the ships out there following us.”

    “I can, sir.  Warming up the hyperdrives.”

    More than seventy five torpedos broke from the formation. 
Astrid realized that there were too many ships for them to follow. 
The plan had looked good at first, but now it looked like it wasn’t
going to work.  Yet somehow she knew that she would return to
New Earth’s End, and KB alive.  She just didn’t understand how.

    “Fifteen seconds remaining,” Mora said.  Just then, the twenty
ships charged in.  The remaining torpedos dispersed.

    “This doesn’t look good,” Shepherd said.

    “I’m just going to ram this sucker into the dock,” Mora said,
slamming the power to full and realigning the Neptune at the very
last moment.

    “Docking in five, four, three, two--”  Mora had miscalculated,
but the Neptune slammed home against the Brice Shipworks
Platform.  Somehow, the docking clamps snapped into place
correctly.  Instants later, the ship was secure in the moorings, and
ready to go into hyperspace.

    But a spread of torpedos were shooting from the incoming
NeoTerran ships.  Astrid counted at least sixty of them.  There was
no way the Neptune would--

    Astrid didn’t dare finish the thought.

    Suddenly, the Neptune shuddered forward, and the torpedos
appeared to be coming in a lot faster than before.  Then Mora
pressed a button on her panel.

    “Hyperspace in five!”

    It did not look at all like there were five more seconds before the
torpedos struck the Neptune.  But somehow, those seconds came
and went.  As a firey orange projectile at the lead of the wave of
torpedos loomed large in the viewport, the stars disappeared.

    The torpedo and its companions disappeared.  Astrid felt the
familiar forward lurch as the hyperdrive field was completed. 
Neptune, the Brice Shipworks Platform, the Hedefrium cluster,
and ten automated tugs had vanished in an eyeblink from the
NeoTerran solar system.

    “Sensors are reading torpedo detonations,” Mora said, “but
they’re all more than a million kilometers behind us.”

    Astrid stared at the stars that streaked past the ship as she
moved in hyperspace.

    “That’s about the closest you could cut it, Ensign Mora,”
Captain Wilde said.  “Good work.”

    Astrid looked back at Lura’aknul, who was sitting down on the
deck.  MacHaley had unzipped the front of his uniform.  The shirt
underneath had been soaked in sweat.  She turned back to Mora.

    “Are there any ships behind us?”

    “Negative,” Mora reported.  “They must not have been able to
tell which direction we headed.”

    “Unfortunately,” Astrid said, “I think I’ve got a good idea of
where they’ll come looking.  And we might not have started a war
now, but we may have one to look forward to in just a short time.”

    “We’ll have to worry about that later,” Wilde said.  “For now, I
want to hear all about the Belts and the KobalThi.  I have a feeling
that, since the NeoTerran President died, Admiral T’San hasn’t
been telling us the entire truth.”

    “Lura’aknul,” Astrid asked, “do you think you could fill
everyone in on what’s been going on?”

    Lura’aknul nodded.  Wilde asked the first question, but stopped
midsentence.  He motioned for Shepherd to summon all hands. 
His entire crew could benefit from hearing the truth, he thought. 
Then he repeated his question, and Lura’aknul began to speak.

    And, for Astrid, the situation for the Union looked like it had
changed.  Maybe there could be a peaceful resolution.  She prayed
that it would happen, before it was too late.

    But for now, she could see a bridge forming between her officers
and the Neptune officers.  A similar bridge might form between the
Union and NeoTerra.  NeoTerra had been a member of the Union
since its formation almost four hundred years ago.  Perhaps that old
bridge had been destroyed by Admiral T'San.  But there was still a
chance for the new bridge to form.

    Astrid prayed that the new bridge would never be broken down.