"K'Tran," said the commodore, "I know it's you-I recognize the style. Acknowledge."

"h.e.l.lo, D'Trelna." It was K'Tran's voice, but subtly changed, softer, the old arrogance gone. "The R'Actolians have placed me in tactical command of our ship-a gesture of trust for a new comrade."

"You've . . . joined them?" said D'Trelna, exchanging glances with L'Wrona.

"Yes."

"Physically?"

"If you mean, was I brainstripped, the answer is yes, D'Trelna. A fair trade-I now command the most powerful fighting ship in this universe."

Seen on the board, the mindslaver had reached the harvest ship and was bringing it into one of its hangar bays, even as it widened the gap between itself and Implacable. Implacable.

"Where are you going with that ship?" demanded the commodore. "If the AIs get ahold of the cargo ..."

"They won't," said the soft, self-a.s.sured voice. "We have a better use for it."

"K'Tran," said D'Trelna, leaning forward intently, gripping the chairarms, "I plead with you-don't betray us! You. . ."

"Tsk, tsk, Commodore," said K'Tran. "A foolish thing to ask one who made a career of betrayal. Luck to you, D'Trelna. You'll need it-check your scan in red two seven.'' Commodore," said K'Tran. "A foolish thing to ask one who made a career of betrayal. Luck to you, D'Trelna. You'll need it-check your scan in red two seven.''

The slaver was gone.

"She jumped," said K'Raoda.

D'Trelna sank back in the chair, feeling the sweat beneath his arms.

"Long-range scan shows three AI battleglobes entering this system, sector red two seven," reported T'Ral.

"Put specs on board," said L'Wrona.

It was the same type of vessel they'd faced off Terra Two-a ship the size of a moon, a planetoid of destruction, swathed in shimmering blue energy webs.

The three battleglobes were coming in just under light speed, slowly decelerating.

"Challenge," ordered the commodore. "Ships do not answer challenge," said K'Lana a moment later.

D'Trelna closed his eyes, nodded to himself, and opened them. "Captain my lord L'Wrona," he said, turning to where the captain sat, "a situation now exists that I believe requires implementation of Special Order Fourteen. I ask your concurrence."

It was flat, formal and straight from the manual.

"I concur," said the captain. "The center one, I think." He pointed toward the lead ship.

"Mr. K'Raoda." D'Trelna turned to the second officer. "We ask your concurrence for under the rule of three."

"You want to blow us up in their teeth," said K'Raoda, eyes shifting between the two senior officers.

Both nodded.

"I concur," he said. "But from the weapons projections I'm scanning, they'll blow us up long before we reach them."

"Computer," said D'Trelna, touching the complink, "stand by to execute Special Order Fourteen upon my voice command."

"Concurrence required-rule of three," said the machine, opening L'Wrona and K'Raoda's complinks. The two men added their authorization to D'Trelna's.

"Concurrence verified," said the computer to D'Trelna. "Ship will autodestruct upon your voice command."

D'Trelna switched to the commlink. "Gunnery, lock onto center ship, ignore other two vessels. K'Lana, transmit the Fleet rally on all channels."

"But, sir," she said, "there's no one to hear it."

"The AIs don't know that," he said, watching the tacscan. "Confusion to our enemies. What's our intercept point, T'Lei?" he asked, turning to K'Raoda.

"Epsilon red four seven, that asteroid belt."

"Forward and engage," ordered the commodore.

Implacable turned, headed outsystem again, on a oneway trip toward the Enemy. turned, headed outsystem again, on a oneway trip toward the Enemy.

"And now where are we?" asked John, looking about the small, round chamber. "Another Imperial relic?"

"No," said Guan-Sharick as the other S'Cotar began activating the equipment. "We're in s.p.a.ce-a small, scan-shielded satellite we built to find the Trel Cache. It requires four sensitives, though."

"Why didn't you use other trans.m.u.tes?" said John.

"Lan-Asal's the only other one I could trust," said Guan-Sharick, watching his companion sit at one of the four consoles r.i.m.m.i.n.g the white-walled satellite.

"There are millions of asteroids between D'Lin and its nearest neighbor-remnants of a Trel planet destroyed in the first AI War, a million years ago. One of those asteroids contains the Trel Cache. It emits a psychic signal that the four of us, using the equipment in this satellite, should be able to home on."

"You built this satellite?" asked Zahava.

"Imperial Survey built it," said Guan-Sharick, "but never had time to screen personnel and staff it-the Fall. We've known about it, but for many reasons did nothing about it--until now."

So the Empire had telepaths, thought John, filing that tidbit away.

"If you'd each please sit at one of the consoles and don a helmet," said Guan-Sharick.

The two Terrans looked again and saw the helmets- small bits of translucent material sitting atop each of the consoles, thin optics tendrils linking them to the machines.

Lan-Asal already had his on.

Guan-Sharick sat and donned a helmet, pulling it down tightly over his cranium.

John glanced at Zahava. She shrugged. They sat and put on their helmets.

"Now what," said the Terran.

"Close your eyes," said Guan-Sharick. "Empty your minds and watch through that emptiness for a pinpoint of light-it will find you, not you it. When you see it, join with us and follow the light home."

John sat there for a time, eyes closed, alone with his skepticism. You're not concentrating, Harrison, You're not concentrating, Harrison, said a cold mental whisper. said a cold mental whisper.

Teeth gritting, he tried again, concentrating for what seemed forever, eyes beginning to hurt, shut but straining into nothingness. He was about to give up when something p.r.i.c.ked at his mind-a small, brief burst of yellow light that tantalized, then was gone. Grimly, John settled down and waited.

When it came again, he willed it to stay. It blinked twice, then was gone again.

I see it, Harrison. It was Guan-Sharick. It was Guan-Sharick. We'll seize it together this time and follow it home. We'll seize it together this time and follow it home.

When it came the third time, John felt the strength flow into him-strength that seized the light in wispy tendrils of blue and let it tug them toward an even larger light-a cold white light that grew closer and brighter, filling his mind, searing it.

Something snapped the connection. John was back in the satellite, rubbing his eyes, head hurting.

"Epsilon sector, red four nine," said Lan-Asal, scribbling figures on a notepad.

John and Zahava looked at each other. "Was that you helping me?" he asked.

"It was all of us, Harrison," said Guan-Sharick, looking at the coordinates. "All of us." The pale white face was flushed with success. "We've done it-found the Trel Cache. Now-"

An alarm beeped. Both S'Cotar turned to the consoles. "Too late," said Lan-Asal, shoulders sagging in defeat. "Their vanguard is here."

"It's never too late," said Guan-Sharick, with a defiant toss of long blonde hair. "We have the coordinates-let's go."

Briefly filled with life, the satellite was empty again.

"Never make it," said R'Gal. "Your shield's breaking up." The AI stood beside D'Trelna, looking at the outside scan. The shield's normal white shimmer was pockmarked with red blotches as beams and missiles from the battleglobes tore at it.

Implacable continued to advance, pouring a steady fire at the center battleglobe. The AI ship took it, thousands of miles of intricately layered shields absorbing the energy, efficiently adding it to its own reserves. continued to advance, pouring a steady fire at the center battleglobe. The AI ship took it, thousands of miles of intricately layered shields absorbing the energy, efficiently adding it to its own reserves.

"They'll punch through before we can finish our suicide run," said L'Wrona. The captain stood to the other side of D'Trelna's chair, eyes on the screen.

D'Trelna looked down at the tactical plot, then back at the shield. "I see no alternatives," he said, fingers drumming the chairarm. "Do either of you?"

Neither said anything.

The commlink beeped. "You gentlemen want to kiss the shield good-bye?" said N'Trol's voice. "I give it a fifty count."

"Thank you, Engineer," said the commodore, eyes still on the screen. The entire shield was shading over into a sullen red, the beam hit points glowing a fierce white.

"Commodore," said K'Lana, "the rally signal ..."

"Keep transmitting it," he said.

"It's being acknowledged-priority alpha one!"

The task force swept out of the asteroid belt, soaring up to attack the battleglobes, missiles fanning out ahead of them.

D'Trelna was out of his chair. "Who the . . ."

"I came looking for K'Tran, but this'll do," said a familiar voice. S'Gan's face swept the bridge, peering from a dozen comm screens.

"Admiral!" said D'Trelna, sinking back into his chair.

"D'Trelna," she nodded. "Looks like your invasion prophecy's fulfilled. An advance force?"

"Yes, Admiral," said D'Trelna. Outside, the shield was cooling back into white as the battleglobes engaged S'Gan's squadron.

"I think we're close enough to hurt them," she said. "I've alerted Fleet. No way they'll get here in-"

The second ship in her squadron exploded, a billowing cloud of evanescent orange-red gas, quickly gone. The ship ahead of it plowed into the center battleglobe, a small silver mote suddenly blossoming into a fireball a thousand times its original size.

K'Raoda increased screen magnification. The battleglobe seemed to leap into the screen, its energy web merely a thin haze now. Through it they saw a world of battlesteel: turrets, pods and generators that seemed to go on forever, broken only by the occasional blunt of towers and domes.

"A ship forged by hate when man was young," said R'Gal softly.

There was a deep, black crater in the battleglobe's center. As her two companions moved forward, she pulled back, slowly returning the way she'd come.

The incoming missiles caught her, sixty-two multimegaton shipbusters wrapping the wounded battleglobe in all-consuming flame.

"G.o.ds of my fathers!" exclaimed D'Trelna, throwing a hand across his eyes as a miniature sun devoured the battleglobe.

The screen went dark, the blast burning out Implacable's Implacable's scanners.

"One," said Admiral S'Gan, her face now only on D'Trelna's personal comm screen.

The two remaining battleglobes continued to advance, directing a withering fire against S'Gan's remaining ships. The distance separating the two forces was down to a paltry half a million miles, with neither side showing any inclination to break off. Implacable Implacable now lagged far behind the action, limping on two-thirds power. now lagged far behind the action, limping on two-thirds power.

"Incoming signal, Fleet covert operations channel," said K'Lana.

"I'll take it," said D'Trelna, punching open his commlink. "Identify."

"We've accounted for the surviving Combine ships that cut and ran," said K'Tran. "Now listen-divert those battleglobes into epsilon red four eight. The s.p.a.cejunk's very thick there--we have a surprise waiting for them."

"You're speaking for the mindslaver, K'Tran?" asked D'Trelna, watching the board as two more of S'Gan's ships dissolved. There was only one left now: Deliverance, Deliverance, S'Gan's flagship. As the commodore watched, the flagship broke off, pulling away at a right angle to the battleglobe. S'Gan's flagship. As the commodore watched, the flagship broke off, pulling away at a right angle to the battleglobe.

"D'Trelna, in tactical matters, I am the mindslaver. It's the only time they've allowed my own ident.i.ty."

There was an undercurrent of despair in the brainstripped corsair's voice. D'Trelna felt sympathy welling within him. Then memory of Implacables Implacables hangar deck heaped with bodies banished it. hangar deck heaped with bodies banished it.

"Epsilon red four eight, D'Trelna-it's your only chance." The commlink ended with a faint hiss.

"We can't trust him," said L'Wrona after D'Trelna quickly repeated the conversation.

The commodore shrugged. "We have no other option."

He turned to K'Lana. "Battleburst code to S'Gan: 'Follow me, epsilon red four eight.'