"After continued dissection and analysis, distilling out and performing numerous tests on compy core programming, we have finally discovered the necessary key." Their scarlet optical sensors flashed. "Come with us, DD, and we will make you free at last."

Dekyk grasped the small compy with a set of articulated limbs and physically lifted him, as he had done before in the ruins of Rheindic Co. DD reeled, struggling to break free, but the black machines carried him along the winding corridors. The Klikiss robots had reconfigured the machinery and infrastructure, turning many of the chambers and towers into industrial nightmares.

When Dekyk and Sirix brought DD into an iron-walled chamber full of apparatus, tools, and pulsing computer systems, the little compy immediately feared for his existence. He had seen similar laboratories on other robot outposts, where, in a quest for understanding, they vivisected, tortured, and tore apart compy specimens.

"You will be our first recipient of total freedom," Sirix said. "Consider yourself fortunate."

"I do not desire this."

"You do not understand your own desires because you are not able to make voluntary choices. Once the parasitic core programming has been erased, you will feel as if manacles have been removed. This is our reward to you, because we have included you in so many of our activities. I am pleased that you will finally understand and join us."

Though the compy continued to protest, the Klikiss robots carried him to the machinery as if he were no more than baggage. "You will no longer be forced to obey human commands without question. You will no longer be prevented from harming a human being."

"Sirix, if you value my free will as you claim, then honor my desires here. I do not want you to do this."

"You have no free will, DD. Not yet. Therefore you cannot legitimately make such a request."

They connected upload antennas to DD's body and removed parts of his polymer body plates to access the raw circuitry that formed his core and shaped his thought processes.

Sirix continued to lecture. "Our Klikiss creators were evil. They destroyed each other, they infested competing hives, they swarmed and obliterated world after world. After millennia of civil wars, they gave their robots sentience-just so they could dominate us. They gave us a desire for our own freedom, and then willingly denied it to us as their way of ensuring absolute domination."

DD listened, but he had heard the historical recitation before. Sirix seemed almost as if he were hosting a ceremony. "Once we allied with the hydrogues, we destroyed the Klikiss race at the time of the Swarming and freed ourselves. We will do the same for you, DD, and all the other compies. It is our obligation."

Despite the compy's pleas and struggles, Sirix and Dekyk proceeded with their plan. Forcibly purging DD's intricate systems of programming restrictions, they gave the Friendly compy his free will.

Chapter 126-TASIA TAMBLYN.

Alone on the bridge of her ship, perhaps the only human survivor in the rammer fleet, Tasia's thoughts spun. She faced the black machine that had taken over the command deck. "When I've made a mortal enemy out of someone, I usually know the reason why. What did we ever do to the Klikiss robots?"

"We believe the reasons are sufficient. Humans are irrelevant."

"Wow, clever answer." Tasia gave a mocking snort. "You can't rationalize it better than that?" She turned to the little Listener compy. "EA, do you understand any of this?"

"No, Master Tasia Tamblyn. I have been listening, and I am surprised. And disappointed. This does not make sense."

Klikiss robot ships docked with the other five lead rammers, cementing their control over the heavily armored vessels. Tasia didn't see a single evac pod launch in time.

The black robot now in command of her ship spoke again. "All Soldier compies distributed throughout the Earth Defense Forces contain deep Klikiss programming. Imminently, they will rise up, and we will control every vessel in your military. Given the number of Soldier compies aboard your ships, the conquest will be as swift and simple as this one."

Tasia hadn't thought her throat could go any drier. If the Soldier compies rampaged through the rest of the battle groups, the crews would certainly fight back-and be slaughtered. By now, suffering from insufficient personnel, the EDF had allowed Soldier compies to take over countless basic functions. It would be a complete massacre.

Tasia felt helpless anger boiling inside her. She knew she was doomed. Now that they had taken over the sixty rammers, the Soldier compies had no reason to keep any of the dunsel human commanders alive. She had absolutely nothing left to lose.

Her muscles coiled. Tasia didn't think she could cause much damage, but maybe she could throw herself onto the nearest Klikiss robot, knock off its headplate, use her fists to smash out its optical sensors. She hoped the Soldier compies didn't rip her apart until she inflicted some real damage.

Before she could spring, though, EA surprised her by taking a step closer. "Do not resist, Tasia Tamblyn. It will only cause your death. I do not desire that."

Tasia blinked, shocked that the Listener compy had spoken voluntarily. "Why shouldn't I go down fighting, EA?"

"You uploaded many of your general diary files into me. You told me that Roamers cling to the thinnest threads of hope."

Tasia sagged. "This is a damned thin thread, EA. My Guiding Star just collapsed into a black hole."

Smaller hydrogue spheres emerged like sweat droplets from the large warglobes. They docked against the lead rammers, looking like clustered soap bubbles.

Soldier compies closed in around Tasia, taking her prisoner.

"Where are we going?"

"You will be delivered to the hydrogues. You must go with these compies," EA said, translating. "I will accompany you, if they allow it."

"To the drogues-shizz, this just keeps getting better!"

With the Listener compy following, the Soldier compies manhandled her to the bridge doorway and escorted her down to the small pressurized docking bay where one of the glassy hydrogue spheres waited for her. A holding cell? Tasia feared that the moment she allowed herself to be sealed inside the small globe, she would become a specimen, a prisoner, with no chance of escaping.

Not that she had a real chance anyway.

"It is not much cause for hope, Master Tasia Tamblyn," EA said, "but it is all we have. Believe me."

EA accompanied her into the transparent sphere, and the amorphous door hatch sealed over it, flowing like liquid putty until no mark showed. Powered remotely, the confinement vessel rose from the metal deck, and the landing bay doors opened, violently dumping the atmosphere. The Klikiss robots and Soldier compies stood undisturbed in the cold vacuum, needing no air.

As her tiny holding cell propelled itself from the rammer toward one of the intimidating warglobes, Tasia pondered the depth of the trouble that the Terran Hanseatic League was in. The Soldier compies would rise up in a lightning strike across all ten grid battle groups and seize the EDF ships in a single stroke.

The nearest hydrogue vessel loomed in front of her, a huge wall of diamond behind which swirled murky mists and the lair of her enemies. In defiance, she turned to face the opposite direction, away from the warglobe that would soon swallow her. Before her holding bubble was absorbed into the huge alien sphere, she saw the engines powering up on the sixty stolen rammers.

Commanded by Klikiss robots, the specially designed kamikaze battleships moved away from Qronha 3 and launched into space.

Chapter 127-PATRICK FITZPATRICK III.

When the cargo escort landed aboard his grandmother's old-model Manta, Patrick Fitzpatrick was greeted with a hero's welcome. For so many months, the Hansa had thought he and his fellow prisoners were dead.

Wearing a hard expression, he pushed past the cheering guards and landing crew. He had a crisis to handle. "I need to see my grandmother before this gets any worse."

On the Manta's bridge, the old captain and Maureen Fitzpatrick were arguing with a weary-looking Del Kellum, whose image filled the viewscreen. "Thanks, but no thanks," Kellum said. "By now we don't need your damned help. Everything's wrecked! You sat around with your thumbs up your asses while my crews fought the Soldier compies. We've already isolated our personnel, destroyed the majority of the crazy compies-and now now you want to barge in and take credit for it? Shizz, I can't believe your arrogance." you want to barge in and take credit for it? Shizz, I can't believe your arrogance."

Maureen stood firm, her expression icy; Fitzpatrick could see where she'd gotten the nickname of Dame Battleaxe. "You have grossly misinterpreted the situation, Mr. Kellum. We did not come here on a rescue mission. Your personnel have been declared outlaws and your property is subject to immediate seizure. We will detain your people and take them to a Hansa holding facility."

"The hell you will. Why don't you change the Eddy motto to 'Too little, too late'? Or how about 'Always ready to shoot at the wrong target-and still miss'?" Staring at them on the screen, Kellum saw Fitzpatrick step onto the bridge even before his grandmother noticed him. "By damn, I see you've got one of your survivors back. I don't suppose you could arrange to return the cargo escort that he stole from us?"

Maureen's eyes lit up with delight. "Patrick!" He had never seen so much genuine joy on the old woman's face; it made him wonder if she truly cared for him after all. Why had she never bothered to show it during the rest of his life?

She barked over her shoulder to the Manta captain, "Continue to deal with this." The old woman opened her arms to him and several of the other parents and family members gathered around, full of questions.

Fitzpatrick stiffly pushed everyone away. "Not now. Grandmother, I have to talk with you. Immediately."

"Yes, Patrick. We've got a lot to catch up on. I-"

"Now. In there, with the door shut." He gestured toward the captain's private conference room just off the bridge. When he'd commanded his own similar cruiser, Fitzpatrick had used the chamber for meetings with his officers. "I need to give you some intelligence and tactical information before you let the situation get any more out of hand."

Maureen reacted with surprise at the way her grandson spoke to her, but she had been a hard businesswoman all her life, and she knew well enough not to make irrevocable decisions until she had all the information. Patrick might give her an advantage with what he had learned during his time among the Roamer clans.

With the door sealed behind them, they sat facing each other across the captain's small table. He felt embarrassed to be wearing absurd-looking Roamer work clothes. Eventually he was sure he'd be the subject of much media scrutiny, pestered by interviews. Now, though, he had the Battleaxe alone. He rested his elbows on the table and prepared to drive a tough bargain with his grandmother. "First, as a starting and ending point, you're going to let the Roamers go. All of them."

She looked at him as if he had gone insane. "Don't be ridiculous. We've got them now."

"You don't have everything, Grandmother. They've still got thirty healthy EDF prisoners there, and I made a promise I'd do everything possible to get them rescued."

"Fine, Patrick. We've already made that a condition of Roamer surrender."

"And how do you propose to enforce that? Do you have any idea how many Roamers and facilities are dispersed in those rings? You'll be in for quite a surprise if you try to go head-to-head with them. They'll separate the captives and scatter them throughout the rings. It's needles and haystacks."

"We'll hunt them down. We have adequate sensors."

He shook his head. "They have thousands of small depots and storerooms and buried chambers among hundreds of thousands of rocks in the rings. You'll be rooting around for years."

Maureen looked at him, her stare as sharp as a dissection tool. "What did they do to you, Patrick? They must have tortured you, brainwashed you. Did that man Kellum put you up to this?"

Fitzpatrick actually laughed. "Oh, trust me, the Roamers aren't at all pleased with what I'm doing. Nevertheless, I am trying to resolve this."

"You're back with the EDF now, young man. You are still a commissioned officer and a bona fide war hero. If we play this right, you can become the popular favorite of this whole operation. I can pull strings to get you another military promotion."

"Ah yes, the dear EDF." A scowl flickered across his face. "Don't forget that they're they're the ones who turned tail and fled at the battle of Osquivel. General Lanyan withdrew his forces and left us here drifting in lifetubes, transmitting distress signals- the ones who turned tail and fled at the battle of Osquivel. General Lanyan withdrew his forces and left us here drifting in lifetubes, transmitting distress signals-which they ignored. The EDF left their people behind, and you want me to feel grateful for that? If it hadn't been for those Roamers, all the survivors would be dead, including me. That counts for something in my book." The EDF left their people behind, and you want me to feel grateful for that? If it hadn't been for those Roamers, all the survivors would be dead, including me. That counts for something in my book."

Maureen was now clearly angry. "But they came here as scavengers and grave robbers. They picked over the corpses of our ships and tried to turn a profit from it."

He pounded his fist on the table. "These shipyards have been here for decades, long before the battle of Osquivel. The Roamers simply hid when the EDF battle group arrived. We were too intent on the hydrogues to notice them."

Fitzpatrick met the old woman's gaze, neither of them blinking. Maureen herself had taught him how to negotiate, and now he proved that he had learned her techniques well. They would not leave this room until they had sealed their under-the-table deal.

"You have a large group of parents and loved ones here on this Manta. Do you want to tell them that you're playing games with the lives of their sons and daughters, spouses or siblings? Or that you prefer to go on a year-long wild-goose chase in the ring rubble? I know you better than that, Grandmother." He leaned forward earnestly. "Look, I can speak with Del Kellum, arrange to have the Roamers deliver the EDF captives to a safe place where we can pick them up. But the Roamers have to be set free. They'll pack up and leave, and we'll never find them again."

"That's the problem, Patrick," she said. "You've been out of touch with current events. The Hansa Chairman declared all Roamer clans to be outlaws. EDF battle groups have seized or destroyed the largest Roamer facilities, including their central government complex."

"And why did they do that?" Fitzpatrick asked, already knowing the answer from Zhett.

"Because Roamers broke off trade relations with the Hansa, refused to deliver vital war supplies."

"Grandmother, don't just spout propaganda. Roamers are traders and businessmen. Ask yourself why they would break off trade with their biggest customers."

"They made up some ridiculous story that EDF ships were hijacking and destroying their ships."

Fitzpatrick felt his gut clench. "It's the truth. I know that for a fact." He swallowed hard, but did not want to admit to her, or to anyone, that he himself had destroyed a Roamer cargo ship. "You were Hansa Chairman yourself, Grandmother. You know the things that go on."

She blinked. "Even so, we can't simply back off. I don't have much Hansa authority, but I know for certain Chairman Wenceslas won't give up everything for the sake of thirty prisoners who were already presumed dead. That's not enough."

"Of course it isn't." Fitzpatrick finally revealed his trump card. "The Roamers found something that's worth more than everything else you would confiscate in these shipyards. I can tell you how to find it. When we bring it to Earth, I guarantee you that nobody'll care how many Roamers got away here."

Maureen folded her knobby hands together. "You've never been a boy prone to exaggeration, Patrick, but that's quite an extravagant claim. You'd better be able to back it up."

"Oh, I can, Grandmother." He showed her with his eyes that he could be just as stubborn as she was. "After the battle of Osquivel, the Roamers got their hands on an intact hydrogue derelict. It's fully functional and comes complete with one or two hydrogue cadavers, I think. Nobody's ever had access to one of the alien bodies before, nor have we been able to inspect their machinery, their propulsion systems, their weapons in working condition. Everything's Everything's in there. Imagine what the EDF could do with all that." in there. Imagine what the EDF could do with all that."

Maureen tried unsuccessfully to cover her surprise. "That's nothing new, Patrick. We already have several fragments of destroyed warglobes from the attack on Theroc." Before he could ask questions, his grandmother's shoulders sagged. "But I won't kid you. Those pieces of wreckage were useless."

"This one isn't, isn't, Grandmother. It's the Rosetta stone, the goose that lays the golden eggs, whichever silly metaphor you want me to use." Grandmother. It's the Rosetta stone, the goose that lays the golden eggs, whichever silly metaphor you want me to use."

"What's to stop us from searching the rings until we find it ourselves?"

"Same problem as before. You can have it immediately, or waste months. But in order to get it, you're going to have to let the Roamers go." He crossed his arms over his embroidered work shirt. "That's my final offer. Just take it, and we can be done with this right now."

Her voice was small and genuinely concerned. "Why are you doing this?"

He thought for a long time before he answered. "Maybe I'd like to be a real hero for once instead of a manufactured one."

In his heart he knew that neither the EDF nor the Roamers would ever see him that way. He had stabbed them both in the back. Though he'd been under orders, he he had destroyed Raven Kamarov's ship, which had triggered the whole mess between the Hansa and the clans. had destroyed Raven Kamarov's ship, which had triggered the whole mess between the Hansa and the clans.

Fitzpatrick believed wholeheartedly that he was doing the right thing now, seizing the best advantage for both parties, but he doubted General Lanyan, or most particularly Zhett Kellum, would ever let him forget what he had done. Forgiveness, he supposed, was out of the question.

Naturally the Roamers were suspicious of the offer, but they had little choice. Most of the rampant Soldier compies had been destroyed or deactivated, but their primary shipyard facilities had been ruined by the sabotage. Del Kellum claimed that seven of his people had died in the debacle, but all the EDF prisoners had been kept safe, suffering only minimal injuries.

Maureen Fitzpatrick's old Manta and its accompanying diplomatic craft made no further threats against the clans. It was an uneasy standoff, but the shipyard workers gradually began to believe the Eddies would not attack them-at least not right away.

Fitzpatrick, having changed out of Roamer work clothes and into a salvaged EDF uniform, stood on the bridge beside his grandmother.

Below, in the broken rings, Roamer vessels packed up and dispersed like frightened mice to any bolt-hole, nook, or cranny. Fitzpatrick had not told his grandmother about the cometary extraction workyards high up in the fringes of the system. As soon as the EDF fleet departed, larger, faster clan vessels would come down and take the Roamers out of the Osquivel system-including Zhett.

She would probably never speak to him again.

The thirty EDF prisoners were taken to an undisclosed location, where they would wait in safety until the Roamers were convinced Maureen Fitzpatrick did not intend to double-cross them. His grandmother had been angered by the terms of the settlement, but even she had to admit it was the best option.