"Drop it," said L'Wrona with a flick of his weapon.

The big kitchen knife fell to the floor.

"Step forward," he ordered, walking toward her. He stopped short when he saw the face. "K'Yan?" he said uncertainly.

"Do I know you, sir?" said the woman. She was the Margrave's age, hair close-cropped like a boy's, wearing the shapeless gray uniform Fleet issued to war refugees. She had a pretty oval face and light green eyes without a spark of life in them.

"It's me," said L'Wrona, touching her shoulder. "H'Nar."

He watched K'Yan's face as she struggled to remember, saw her almost catch hold of the thought, lose it, then win it in a rush of comprehension that restored fife to her face and animation to her body. "H'Nar!" she sobbed, throwing her arms around him. K'Yan clung to him like a lost child, great sobs racking her body, tears soaking into L'Wrona's shirt.

He held her till the sobbing and the tears eased. Then K'Yan stepped back, wiping her face with the back of a gritty gray sleeve. "Better?" he asked, still holding her shoulders.

She nodded. "Better. It comes and goes. I hope I can hold it for a while." "It?"

"My mind," she said. "The S'Cotar brain wiped me."

"I see," he said, letting go of her.

"It's not contagious," she said with a faint smile. "Just permanent. And with fits of lucid-ity."

"Can't it be . . . ?"

"No." She said it flatly. "I've a moron's intellect till I die, H'Nar. The war killed my children, now my father . . ."-she glanced at the still figure by the fireplace-"and took away my humanity."

"How . . . how do you live?" he stammered.

"Badly," she said. "Fleet handouts are spotty. The garrison troopers sometimes share their food if you share yourself, but they're on tight rations and G.o.d knows there's a lot of compet.i.tion . . . What's the matter?" she said, seeing his stricken face.

"I'll get you out of here," he said. "K'Ronar has facilities. I know we're working on a means of reversing ..."

"There's no known way to reverse a neurological brain damp, old friend," she said, hand on his arm. "You're talking to a neurologist ... at least for the next few moments."

"I'll take you . . ."

"You sound like a chipped commwand," said K'Yan. "There is something you can do for me."

"Anything."

She moved her hand down to his wrist, raising it until his sidearm was pointed at her heart. "Kill me."

"No." L'Wrona took her hand from his wrist.

"Please, H'Nar," said K'Yan, strong hands gripping his arms. "To be like this and to remember what I am, what I've lost and what I do to live ..." She leaned close, imploring. "I'd do it for you."

"No," he repeated, shaking his head violently. "You can't give up hope, K'Yan, it's all any of us have left." As he spoke, he saw her face reverting to the empty, green-eyed mask it had been when she entered the room.

"I know you," said K'Yan uncertainly. "Don't I?"

Tearing himself free, L'Wrona turned and fled into the night.

13.

"THAT'S IT?" SAID John, staring at the small black cube in R'Gal's hand. John, staring at the small black cube in R'Gal's hand.

"That's it," said the AI. "One alternate-reality linkage." He turned, pa.s.sing it to K'Raoda. "Install and activate, please, Commander."

Filled by great, gray hulking shapes of multi-storied machinery that swept on and on, Devastator's Devastator's engineering section dwarfed the small cl.u.s.ter of human figures: K'Raoda standing next to the control console, John, Zahava and R'Gal watching intently as the young officer slid open a small panel on top of the console. engineering section dwarfed the small cl.u.s.ter of human figures: K'Raoda standing next to the control console, John, Zahava and R'Gal watching intently as the young officer slid open a small panel on top of the console.

With a faint whirring, a cube-shaped piece of duraplast extended from the console, supported by a thin duralloy rod. Thumb and forefinger carefully aligned with the transparent holder, K'Raoda dropped in the black cube. Accepting the offering, the arm retracted and the little hatch slid shut.

"Now what?" said K'Raoda, looking at R'Gal.

"Push that b.u.t.ton, that and that," he said, indicating two red b.u.t.tons and a yellow one that lay nestled among three rows of like-colored controls, all labeled in what seemed a series of dots.

"Pushed," said K'Raoda, looking up again. A green light winked in the center of the console.

"And engaged," said R'Gal. Reaching past the human, he touched the console's commlink. "Portal should be appearing and dilating, S'Rel," he said. "Take us through as soon as it's within limits."

"Acknowledged," came the reply from the bridge.

"And give us forward scan video down here, please, S'Rel," added R'Gal.

What had been a rectangular stretch of bulkhead was suddenly transformed into a view of the s.p.a.ce between Earth and Mars where Devastator Devastator now hung at dead stop, her forward momentum checked by her monstrous n-gravs. now hung at dead stop, her forward momentum checked by her monstrous n-gravs.

"Now what?" said Zahava.

"Watch," said K'Raoda. "Center front."

Nothing at first-a vast mult.i.tude of stars set in black velvet-then, as John watched, not quite sure he was seeing something, a bit of that blackness grew even darker, a growing circle of obsidian that quickly blotted out all but its own unnatural self. John looked away, trying to end a sudden painful ringing growing somewhere deep in his head. K'Raoda flinched and Zahava covered her ears. R'Gal seemed unaffected.

"Is it a black hole?" asked John, trying to ignore the pain that grew as the battleglobe moved slowly forward, closing the gap.

"You might call it an artificial black hole," said R'Gal, eyes on the scan. "One that's had its useful properties adapted to our needs." He glanced at the three and smiled sympathetically. "Your discomfort's due to some of the portal's emitters having the same frequency as your own latent neural receivers. It'll pa.s.s."

"Penetration attained," reported S'Rel as a swirling vortex of color replaced the blackness-a vortex that shook the great ship like a toy, throwing John and Zahava to the hard deck and spinning K'Raoda from his chair-an action that saved his life as the console exploded, a sudden orange and blue geyser of flame.

From on high, fire snuffers responded, smothering the flames in a thin, focused stream of mist that absorbed the oxygen and snap-froze the superheated console.

R'Gal touched a commpanel while the humans helped each other up. "Status," he demanded.

"Terra Two attained," said the bridge-a voice other than S'Rel's. Then, after a slight pause, "We show localized explosion in your section. What is your status?"

"Never mind us," snapped R'Gal, eyes on the console. "What do you show for reality linkage status?"

This time there was a long pause.

"Report," said R'Gal impatiently.

"Field down," came S'Rel's voice. "Possibly destroyed. The good news is that we're out of the transition flux and into our bridge universe. That's Terra Two down there."

Everyone looked at the vidscan: no more vortex, no more black hole. Blue-green and brown, a familiar world filled the scan, all soft pastels and serenity.

"Terra Two," said John to no one in particular, "is not good news."

14.

"WELL?" SAID NTROL. Arms folded, he leaned against the armorgla.s.s, watching A'Tir dress.

"Not bad, for a loyal Fleet officer," said the corsair, fastening her pants. "You and your happy little crew can keep their miserable lives-for now." As she sat to pull on her boots, N'Trol breathed a silent sigh of relief. It had been a contest, no doubt-one which he'd won, but just barely. And one he didn't care to repeat, not for those stakes.

"Every third watch," said A'Tir, rising and walking to D'Trelna's wall safe. Taking out her holstered Ml 1 1 A, she belted it on and bent, tying the bottom of the black v'arx leather holster to her leg. A, she belted it on and bent, tying the bottom of the black v'arx leather holster to her leg.

Witch, thought N'Trol. She reads minds.

"Every third watch what?" he asked, knowing the answer.

"You and your men live at my pleasure -literally," said A'Tir, facing him. "Back to your quarters, Engineer, and ..."

Seeing the corsair's eyes widen at something behind him, N'Trol spun in time to view the mindslaver sweep alongside, ten black-hulled miles of weapons batteries, sensor arrays, instrument pods and not a single light.

"We all live at something else's pleasure now, witch," said N'Trol as A'Tir bit her lower lip, face pale.

"Captain!" It was K'Lal's voice, tight with fear, calling from the bridge. "Mindslaver has come alongside. Permission to sound battlestations?"

A'Tir laughed-a high, musical sound that banished her frightened look and almost made N'Trol like the woman. Stepping to the commlink, she flipped the transmit tab. "Sound anything you like," she said. "We can't crew both gunnery and the bridge. And nothing we have would even make that monster's shield flicker.

"Mr. N'Trol and I are on our way."

N'Trol and A'Tir were in the lift when the slaver spoke-a dry whisper coming from every comm speaker on Implacable. Implacable.

"You barely got away alive last time, cruiser Implacable. Implacable. You won't be so fortunate this time. You'll be processed in salvage hold eight, your organic and mechanical components used to serve R'Actol." You won't be so fortunate this time. You'll be processed in salvage hold eight, your organic and mechanical components used to serve R'Actol."

As A'Tir and N'Trol stepped onto the bridge, Implacable Implacable lurched from the force of the mindslaver's tractor beams. lurched from the force of the mindslaver's tractor beams.

There were five corsairs manning the bridge, eyes more on the screen than on their consoles. The cruiser was being drawn toward a gaping hole in the mindslaver's belly. K'Lal punched to higher magnification, zooming the scan in on the single bright-lit berth in that vast hold-a rectangular dry dock overhung by wrecking cranes and rimmed by the squat, ma.s.sive form of industrial-grade welders, all shimmering faintly behind the blue haze of energy shields.

A'Tir and N'Trol paused for an instant, held by the sight of the s.p.a.ce-borne abattoir drawing them in.

"Status?" said A'Tir, taking the captain's chair as N'Trol moved to the engineer's station.

K'Lal turned from the screen, shaking his head. "I've seen you pull miracles before, Commander." He jerked a thumb over his shoulder. "How about one now?"

A'Tir pushed the commtab. "Are you Alpha Prime?" Alpha Prime?" she said. she said.

"Yes, Commander A'Tir," came the whisper-dead leaves rustling in an autumn twilight, thought N'Trol. "You and Captain K'Tran will have adjoining brainpods."

A'Tir's fingers gripped the chairarm, white-knuckled.

"You let it rattle you, it wins," said a soft voice beside her. She looked up at N'Trol, standing beside her. The engineer smiled faintly. "Surprise-I hate it more than I do you, corsair."

"You've scanned ship's logs," said A'Tir, turning back to the screen and the yawning salvage hold that now, even on lowest magnification, filled the screen.

"Indeed," said the nightmare. "You have about a hundred-count to kill yourselves -knives only-we've put a damper field on your ship. It won't prevent us from brainstripping you, of course, but experience has shown that in the case of suicides, even with the most prompt attention, we lose about seven percent. So some of you can slip away."

"We're not here to die, thing," said A'Tir, leaning back in the chair, "or to be brainstripped. I have information vital to the survival of the Seven."

"Tell us," whispered the mindslaver. "We are the Seven of R'Actol, and we can show mercy."

"I demand a personal audience," said the corsair.

There was a long pause. "Granted," said the dead voice as Implacable Implacable slipped into the salvage hold. slipped into the salvage hold.

"What's your game, A'Tir?" said N'Trol as he and the corsair approached the cruiser's number five access port, K'Lal and another corsair behind them.

"I have something that will make them restore K'Tran and turn command of their ship over to me," she said as the corridor dead-ended at the access port. A small airlock, it lay topside of the cruiser, just behind the bridge.

"Luck, Commander," said K'Lal, cycling open the airlock. With a curt nod she stepped through the double doors and onto a strip of black duraplast that spanned the gap between the cruiser and the battlesteel catwalk surrounding it. N'Trol followed, trying not to look down at the distant shimmer of the air curtain and the beckoning nothingness of s.p.a.ce beyond. Steel ships and spineless men, he thought, wanting very much to get down and crawl across the void. The sight of A'Tir's straight back and confident walk kept him moving. Witch, he thought.

The component was waiting for them on the catwalk: gray-uniformed with a major's silver rank pips and starship-and-sun on his collar, slim Imperial-cla.s.s blaster on his hip, gleaming black boots and holster. Archives would have said he was an Imperial Marine captain, Third Dynasty. Medscan would have shown he had no brain.

"Welcome to Alpha Prime," Alpha Prime," it said, saluting. Its voice was warm, its smile pleasant, its eyes dead. "Follow me, please." it said, saluting. Its voice was warm, its smile pleasant, its eyes dead. "Follow me, please."

They were led from the salvage hold down a corridor to where an open ground car waited. Motioning them into the rear seat, the component slid into the front seat and activated the car. Rising silently, it turned, rose and moved quickly from the side corridor into one of the mindslaver's main thoroughfares, a broad, well-lit avenue of gray battlesteel. There was no other traffic.

"A'Tir," said N'Trol softly, eyes on the component, "tell me you don't have a secret code sequence from the First Dynasty that will bend this ship to your will." He saw her start, half turning to look at him.

"How did you ...?''

The engineer closed his eyes for a moment, then opened them. "I have a bridge to sell you," he said.

"A bridge?" she asked, even more confused.

"Terra. New York. Never there, were you?" He said no more, eyes ahead, ignoring her uneasy look.

The car flitted past a series of intersections, then up a broad circular ramp. Decelerating, it turned a corner and came to rest before a shimmering archway.