"That may be, but their physiology is fascinating. I've been studying that stuff Chris gave us from the bio group. The steel of their bones isn't particularly high grade, but it's still steel. Some of their tendons are actually like strands of steel cable, and others are just plain steel rods. But that hydraulic fluid they use is really interesting stuff. It's a little more viscous than pancake syrup usually, but it looks like the Phinons can release some kind of hormone into it and it suddenly turns rock solid. That would pretty much give it an unbreakable grip."

"This is all very interesting," Pops said. "But what do you want us to do? I'm beginning to think we're not going to find much more on this comet than this."

"I agree with Pops," Rick said. "This comet is as riddled with tunnels as it could be. It's probably been mined out, so to speak. The refinery on the surface is probably just extracting what volatiles are left that are worth using."

"Okay," Bob said. "But we'll have to see some more comets to know if this one is remotely unique or not. Guys, cut a couple of those dead bodies loose and bring them back to the ship. Oh, and get the bodies from different stacks, preferably two stacks way far apart. It might make a difference. Then come on back up. I'll be station keeping right above the hole."

Rick stepped aside from the display and showed the results of the most recent neutrino scan to the others. "Same sort of thing," he said. "That makes an even dozen."

Pops inspected the screen and asked, "Any variation in the network of tunnels?"

"Yes, but very slight. At every comet we've visited, the web of tunnels always has exactly eight main tunnels that come out at the surface, and each tunnel supports a web work that intersects with the others at exactly one point deep in the interior, and that one connects to the hangar hole." The "hangar hole" was a sixty-five-meter-wide shaft they'd found at each comet bored deep into the core. Their best guess was that the Phinon ships landed inside since there wasn't any evidence of landing facilities on the surface of the bodies. "And all of these comets are abandoned except for those little refineries."

In the past three days the Hyperlight had visited twelve cometary bodies through this local cluster, crossing several light-hours in the process. They had yet to find any Phinons other than the stacks of dead ones.

"I say we try a different cluster," Bob said. "Maybe we'll have better luck there."

"I've been thinking," Pops said, "about why we haven't had any Phinons come to find us yet. Maybe they can't track ships in hyperspace at all. At least, not over any great distance."

"That doesn't make sense," Rick said. "Even though we can't do it, we do have a pretty good theory for how to build a hyper-radar. We just haven't had time to do one. So they must have- Oh, I see what you mean. It might be another one of those things they missed."

"Could be," Bob said. "But I'm not going to count on it. Any idea how they found Michaels the first time in OEV 1?"

"Well, they had a year or so to watch a high energy jet heading out from Sol for the halo. They could have seen it coming with a decent telescope," Pops replied.

"We might as well get going," Bob said, heading forward to the pilot's bubble. He hated to admit this to himself, but he was actively bored. Rick could enjoy looking at negative results from investigating the comets, and even though he'd descended with Pops to some of the comets, all the suspense had been gone after the first drop. For most of this trip, Bob had been steering the ship and commanding two other men to do that which those same men had to tell him was the best thing to do.

He took his seat, checked the navigation data, then said, "Hyperdrive in one minute. ETA a little under two hours." He lined the Hyperlight up and watched the rainbow dazzle of the stars during the now routine transition.

An hour later the general quarters klaxon sounded.

"Holy shit!" Bob exclaimed, coming instantly out of a light doze in the pilot's seat.

Ordinary Dykdar works in hyperspace, as long as it's only looking for something else that's in hyperspace. Two of those somethings were suddenly to starboard of the Hyperlight, two million kilometers away but closing the distance rapidly.

Bob immediately dropped them to sublight.

"What the hell is going on?" Pops said as he joined Bob up front.

"Two ships, in hyperspace. They gotta be Phinons. I went sublight. Now I'm scanning with Dykdar to see if they're going to come out with me." If one ship drops out of hyperspace one second before another, when both are sublight they'll be at least 24 light-seconds apart. Thus, Bob and Pops waited for Dykdar echoes to return to the ship.

"I'll get the weapons ready," Pops said. "Shields are at full."

Bob called back to the middeck. "Hey, Rick! Strap in. I may have to push this bitch to the limit!" He didn't wait for an acknowledgment, and realized he was running at a million RPM right now.

He felt a hand on his shoulder. "Settle down, soldier," Pops said. "This is supposed to be fun. And I have some scores to settle."

Bob smiled at the comment. "There. We have a return."

"Yeah. And they're scanning us, too. Once they have us fixed they're going to go hyper and pop out right next to us, I bet. That's what I'd do." Dogfighting strategy with hyperdrive capability had been the prime topic of conversation among "in the know" military pilots ever since the Phinons showed up.

Sure enough, two blazing streaks appeared ahead of the Hyperlight, at the end of which were Phinon spaceships. Now sublight, they were coming in fast. Bob turned the Hyperlight to starboard and down at 90 gees.

"Those ships are identical to the ones that pounded Slingshot," Pops said.

"Yeah. The 'eight man' model. They've turned to follow us," Bob said. "And one of them is coming right smack up our ass. One hundred klicks and closing."

Pops looked at him. "You're kidding? Are they that stupid?"

Bob shrugged. "We'll know in a second." Bob turned on the reaction drive. If they hadn't already been using the Dykstra-Hague impellers, the ship would have shot off at 45 gravities. As it was, the relativistic particles from the drive slammed into the shields of the pursuing Phinon, turning the ship into a glowing pearl that died within seconds.

"Okay. As dogfighters, Phinons are assholes," Pops said.

"I guess it's been a little while since they last used reaction drives," Bob added. "And there goes the other one." The tail of the remaining Phinon ship began to glow and waver, the signature of the coming transition to hyperspace. "But this time it ain't getting away!" Bob said, and as the Phinon ship streaked away, the Hyperlight made a streak of her own.

After transition, Pops read the scanners. "Great timing! He's only thirty-two kiloklicks ahead of us."

"Okay. I've got him in line. Reaction engines up and blasting, Pops. We're closing. Their ship isn't going to be able to add delta v under hyperdrive," Bob said. "But we're going to have to shed ours before we try our next rendezvous with a comet."

"Either of you guys care to tell me what the hell is going on?" Rick called from the middeck. Pops told him. "What's to keep it from dropping out of hyperspace so you overshoot?" Rick wondered.

"Nothing," Bob replied. "But I don't think they'll do that. Doesn't seem to be in their natures."

"I think you're right," Rick said. "Remember Michaels' experience. Even though he pursued one that could have fired at him, it didn't bother. Fight or flight."

"And that girl at the Deepguard base, Nikki Le. She pursued a Phinon, too, and all it cared about was getting away," Pops put in.

The Hyperlight was closing rapidly. They were less than five thousand kilometers behind when the shields went milky. "Holy shit!" Bob exclaimed while the ship performed an automatic corkscrewing-toport evasive maneuver. "God damn! What was that?"

The shields cleared but then clouded over again as a fusillade of explosions went off across the sky, like a bomb barrage in a fireworks display, though none of them was close enough to cause real harm. Then the scanners returned to showing a fleeing Phinon ship and the Hyperlight resumed the pursuit.

"Got it," Pops said, reading from the tactical display. "First he nailed us with an X-ray laser. Helluva powerful one, too! If he'd waited another few seconds until we were closer he might have fried us. After that it looks like he dropped his whole bomb load and set it off. He threw the kitchen sink at us, more or less. I guess its fight and flight when they're in a ship. At least if they're pursued."

"How many bombs?" Bob asked.

"Sixteen," Pops said.

"If the other wrecked ships Intelligence has examined are typical, then he doesn't have any bombs left," Rick said. "Do you have a figure for me on that X-ray blast?" Pops gave him a number. "I'd doubt he could let us have it with another shot like the first. That one should have consumed his laser."

"Good. We're within range, Pops. You have the most personal stake in this. KKV or laser or particle beam?" Bob asked.

"Particle beam," Pops said. "It's the closest thing we have to a sword."

"Kill him at your discretion, old man."

"Thank you, Commander." Pops reached over to hit the fire button of the particle cannon. Before his finger could touch it, the Phinon ship self-destructed.

Pops looked at the expanding cloud on the screen. "Shit. Vengeance denied," he said softly.

"Guess I'll kill some kinetic energy," Bob said, shrugging. Then: "Y'know, what we just did was worth violating orders all by itself. Now we know how inept Phinons are at ship-to-ship combat. Take away their hyperdrive and reactionless engines, and even with their better weapons, the Patrol could have taken them on without Dykstra's help."

Those words Bob would remember, and be embarrassed by, for the rest of his life.

"We still don't know if they found us by design or by accident," Rick said. They had dropped out of hyperspace half a million kilometers away from their next comet and were looking for Phinon activity. "Those ships might just have been heading in our direction."

Pops, who was the one doing the watching at the moment while the other two sat at the table, suddenly said, "We have a live one!" The others wasted no time in joining him in front of the screen.

"See? Right there. Two ships came out about nine kiloklicks away from the cometary body. They're almost to it now." Pops cranked up the magnification even higher and picked up the dark circle of the hangar hole. As they watched, the two Phinon ships flew inside.

Now it's going to get interesting, Bob thought.

VII.

Standing in Hague's lab was remarkably like being inside the summer crown of a five-hundred-year-old oak. With the sort of single-minded devotion of which the diminutive savant was the unique practitioner, Hague had set out to turn his laboratory into the perfect lunar home for his squirrel friends from Earth. He'd had wire mesh branches fashioned in the metal shop, had holders and tables and hangers fabricated upon which to put live oak saplings imported from Michigan. He himself had put in the plastic tubing to carry nourishment to the trees, as well as the equipment to keep the squirrels fed and happy during his inevitable absences.

Dykstra liked coming here. He liked the smell-of nothing but fresh nature-Hague's system for removing squirrel feces had already brought a visit from Admiral Towner, whose family owned a private zoo on Earth-he liked the artificial breeze, and he liked the constant chatter of the squirrels.

Dykstra leaned heavily on his cane. He'd just come from an uncomfortable interview with three of his superiors. They'd had a lot of questions to ask him about the Hyperlight and what ideas he might have as to why her return had been delayed. Though they hadn't directly come out and accused him, they'd left little doubt that they suspected him of duplicity, of engineering his own plan for the first mission of the FTL ship.

In short, the truth.

A squirrel with a patch of black on her right shoulder stopped to look him over. Dykstra took an acorn from his pocket and handed it over. "Here you go, Bixy," he said. Bixy was one of the few that he recognized. The squirrel took the offering and bounded off.

Dykstra had parried their questions. He reminded them of the unique character and unique dangers of the mission, confessed (falsely) to uncertainties he still felt about some of his physical assumptions concerning hyperdimensional structure, and admitted (honestly) that he had no idea why the men had yet to return even though they were almost a week overdue.

In short, he snowed them.

But he didn't like doing things this way. In fact, he hated it. But at least Knoedler hadn't been at the interview. The colonel would have been able to ask much more difficult questions. No doubt, though, that the colonel would still get his chance at him.

"Welcome, Dr. Dykstra. Oh yes, welcome, welcome," Hague said, interrupting Dykstra's thoughts. Hague had just come out of his adjoining quarters, carrying a bag of food for his friends.

"Thank you, Arie. Are you just about to feed the family?"

"Oh yes, Dr. Dykstra. Yes, yes. They get hungry, oh yes. And they need me." Hague proceeded to a "limb" nearly a meter wide, and the whole chattering congregation soon assembled.

One squirrel, by far the most yellow of the whole group, got the first bite. "Here you go, Sunshine. Oh, yes, yes. This is for you, Sunshine. Oh yes." Sammi's namesake scampered off to a nearby branch with her treasure and Hague went on to the others. The woman herself would be arriving any time now.

"Here you go, Sarobi, oh yes. You always gave me your food, oh yes you did. Yes."

Hague's sister. The mystery girl out of the little man's past. "When was the last time you saw your sister, Arie?" Dykstra asked.

Arie looked at the clock briefly, then answered, "Forty-two minutes, eight hours, seventy-two days, and thirty-nine years ago, yes."

"Why did she have to take care of you? Where were your parents?"

Suddenly Hague stopped moving. The squirrels chattered impatiently, waiting for the next handout, but Hague stood immobile, then suddenly spoke in a voice not his own.

" 'We have to do it, June. We gotta put the kids in the lifeboat!' " It was a man's voice, oddly raspy, like he was very sick and weak.

" 'We can't, Ted. I can't do it. How will they take care of themselves?' " This was a woman's voice issuing from Hague. Dykstra had no doubt that he was doing a perfect impression. The woman's voice sounded even sicker and hollower than the man's.

" 'The boat will take them to Ceres by itself. We gotta, June. The radio ain't going to be fixed. We can't wait for help. We ain't gonna make it another day.' "

" 'Mommy! Mommy! I don't want to go. I want to stay with you and Daddy! Don't make us go. Don't, please!' " This time it was a little girl's voice.

" 'We don't have any choice, Sarobi. Your mom and me-we, we ain't ever going to get better. You and Arie have to go in the lifeboat. It will take you to Ceres. People will help you there. And you have to look after your brother. He's special, Sarobi. Jesus wants you to look after Arie. You tell folks you want to get him to Earth.' " The talk was interrupted by periodic bouts of coughing, Hague being faithful to his recollection.

" 'Good-bye, Mommy. Good-bye, Daddy. I love you. I love you,' " said the little girl's voice, choking

with tears and sobs.

The image Hague's recitation brought to Dykstra's mind came close to choking him up, and perhaps would have had Hague not then suddenly come out of his state and resumed feeding his squirrels as if nothing had happened at all. "Yes, Peter, this is for you, oh yes."

"May I feed them, too, Arie?" Dykstra asked.

"Oh, yes, Dr. Dykstra. Oh yes."

The door opened and Sammi took a step in, then stopped and looked around. Dykstra saw her sunshine

smile emerge as she took in the room. This was her first exposure to Hague's newly furnished laboratory.

"Wow! This is really something. Oh, Arie, you've outdone yourself," Sammi said, coming toward them.

"Oh, thank you, Samantha, oh yes, oh yes, thank you, thank you!"

Samantha started feeding the squirrels, too, and Dykstra filled her in on the meeting he'd had with the

superiors.