"Sorry, I'm sorry Simeon, I didn't mean to hurtcha, honest!"

"You didn't." A bugle fanfare blew through the lounge, and segued into a Sou/a march, then the Ganymede Harp Variations.

"You've bolixed his oxygen feeds," Channa said frantically, groping forwards.

"It's thecavabyl Ta-ta-tata-tara tat-teraaaa!"

"Simeon!"

"Has he gon' an* lost it?"

Aragiz t'Varak lolled, half-dreaming. A very pleasant daydream. He was back on homeworld, a territorial lord like the old recordings, and somehow Belazir t'Marid was there. Aragiz had just defeated him the old way, spectacular battles amid spouting radioactive geysers. Blasting into the stronghold with primitive fission weapons, hand-shaped plutonium triggered by black powder. Belazir groveled, begging mercy for his line, but they were led out and slaughtered before his eyes. Aragiz was just getting into the interesting post-victory part when the communications officer interrupted him.

"Detection ... Outer ring satellites. Ship signatures, inbound."

The bridge of the Age of Darkness came alert. Everyone had been waiting, nothing more to do until they undocked next cycle and escorted the transports back to rendezvous. He had brought everyone in, ready for departure. Now- "Another pullet for the plucking," Aragiz said lazily. He felt tired. Perhaps from that sc.u.mvermin boy, what was his name, Juke. A nice active squealer, not like that unpleasant one who'd gone into fits after a single kiss, back in the corridors. He'd kicked that one aside with a shudder. Not for a moment did he think that he would catch any disease, but it had been an unpleasant sight "Action stations." The soft chimes rang, eerie and ironic in their gentle harmony. "Give me a reading, and relay to flotilla command and station-side."

The sensor officer consulted the machine. "Very large ma.s.s, Great Lord. Seventy to eighty kilotons."

"Probably an ore carrier," the captain said. "Useful, if not dramatic " The Clan could always use - "Link is down," Communications said.

"Again?" Aragiz barked. He couldn't decouple from the station without clearance. That Bad Seed chugrut Belazir had been fairly dear about that. Also, running an intercept on an incoming freighter could be tricky. And his head hurt, as if he'd been knocked unconscious and recovered...

"Check climate control," he said. It was hoi. He was sweating, and he rarely did, even in combat practice at Kolnar-noon temperature.

"Yes, Great-wehavelostcommw^thfstation^sidevxitch.'* "Wto?"Aragizsatboltupright. "When?"

"Some time ago. We have been getting repeats of the last routine bailings."

TTiat made his stomach lurch, and suddenly he bent over the arm and spewed.

"Fool!" he screamed. "Alarm -" He choked on bile. What is happening tome? He tried to rise, fell back, thrashed, and slipped over the arm of the commander's couch into the spilled vomit Shouts of alarm rose from the crew. The groundlink screens flickered. One cleared to show a Kolnari face being pounded against the pickup.

The executive officer looked down at the jerking form of the captain, and took command.

"Remaining crew, prepare for boarding action. Suit up and -"

"Cancel that," a gravelly voice said.

The officer blinked, and almost shouted in grat.i.tude. Pol t'Veng trotted in, her combat armor scored and still smoking in places, like that of the others behind her Still, she was t'Veng - "Lord Captain," he began. There was a careful protocol about subclan ship territories.

She cut him off. "Uprising. Couldn't make the Shark. stationer electronics scrambled, hostile-controlled. Emergency. Dump your system and call up the backup."

Pol glared at him, sparing the time until he submitted and saluted. Then she sank into the command couch. Inwardly, she sighed. Every time the joss seemed to throw the Clan a little luck, they were knocked back to a handful of homeless fugitives again. Every system on the ship dipped, then firmed, as the duplicate backup computers came on-line. A glance at the captain's readouts gave her the situation.

"Monitor the incoming," she said.

"Lord captain, it is a freighter. Should we not be a.s.sisting in getting the station back in the fist?"

"Shut up. You a.s.sumed it was a freighter. Check that reading again. Now!" Her voice was a bellow, its natural volume increased by the suit's system to an ear shattering volume.

"Reading... Anomalous readings, lord."

"Let me see." He keyed over to her the feeds, unfiltered data. "Youngfool, that's notanomalous-that's Fleetl"

She paused a second to free a sidearm and pump a pulse of energy into Aragiz's thrashing body. His squealing was distracting.

"Emergency decouple," she said. Besides, she had wanted to kill him for years. This one should have been culled before he walked.

"We are loading fuel!"

"Move."

He did. His hand swept the controls, and the Age of Darkness shuddered as explosive charges blasted it loose from the SSS-900-C's north docking tube. Fire blossomed out of the dockway after them, along with steam and pieces of cargo and humans. Kolnari as well as sc.u.mvermin, she supposed. ^ "Broadcast, override, High Clan seek Refuge, High Clan seek Refuge," she snapped. "Put it on loop, open Clan frequency."

The officer's eyes flared wide. That was die command to break, run and scatter, to approach the preset rendezvous points only years later and with maximum caution. Those points were in no file, no hedron, only in living brains and only a few of those. The final desperation measure to protect the Divine Seed, that it might grow again.

"Heart Crusher. Chindik t'Marid."

"Put it through."

"Lord Pol, you are receiving what I do?"

"Yes."

"Data coming in," the sensor chief said.

Pol t'Veng looked down again. The Fleet warships were coming up out of subs.p.a.ce like tungior broaching in the seas of Kolnar; huge ma.s.ses, neutrino signatures of enormous powerplants, ripping through into the fabric of reality.

"Command frequency broadcast! Identifying following," she said. "Fleet units emerging coordinates follow, probables: destroyers, six - correction, six destroyers plus three light, one heavy cruiser and possible ... Confirmed, three a.s.sault carriers. All Clan ships, report status. Lord t'Marid, report status."

"We coordinate?" Chind.i.c.k asked.

"No. You have not the insystem boost. Use the station for cover as long as you can. They will not endanger it."

"Repeat?"

"Sc.u.mvermin psychology. Go. Lord t'Marid, status."

T Marid here," the familiar voice said, harsher than she could remember. "Bride decoupling. We can cover."

"No, with respect Yours is the more valuable Seed." Especially since this skip has t'Varak's sweepings as crew. "Bride, Shark and Strangier should cover the transports."

A pause. "Agreed. Yfciit for us with the Ancestors, Pol t'Veng." t "Guard our Seed and Clan, Belazir I'Marid," she replied.

Then her attention went back to the work at hand. A Central Worlds s.p.a.ce Navy medium attack group bore down on them, with a dozen times the firepower the High Clan had available here and now, given the general pathetic botchup. About equal to the whole current Clan armada, give or take a dozen factors. Pol had fought the Fleet before and had a healthy respect for their capabilities. They were dangerous sc.u.mvermin.

"Helm," she went on. "Set course. Coordinates follow." She had plugged the suit's leads into the couch. "Maximum boost"

"Lord Captain," the executive officer said. "That is a course/or the enemy fleet. What are we to do there?" With one undercrewed frigate, went without saying.

"Do?" Pol t'Veng roared out a single bark of laughter. "We die, fool!"

The commander's couch reclined, locking into combat position. "We will attempt to break through to the transports," she said. "The warships will maneuver to protect them. We fight for maximum delay. Any questions?"

"Command us, lord!"

"Prepare to engage."

"They are smashing us like eggs," Joseph said.

Amos nodded. Without Simeon, the stationers lost their advantage of superior coordination. Against professionals, he had been the only one they had had, once the Kolnari recovered their balance.

Anne McCtffrey & SM. Stirling "Simeon was a... a brave man," Amos said. And if he were realty a man, a dangerous rival, he added to himself "And very skillful. I honor his memory." Joseph nodded; they clasped hand to forearm. "Farewell, my brother."

"Fardlin* touching, really," a voirffc said in his ear.

Amos leaped upright, then ducked again frantically as a bolt spattered metal near his face.

"Simeon?" he gasped.

"No, the Ghost of Christmas Past," the brain replied. "I'm back. So," he went on, glee bubbling through his voice, "are some other people.*1 A holo formed behind the barricade: a figure in green power armor of a chunkier, more compact design than the Kolnari suits Amos was used to. In the background was the bridge of a large vessel, battle-clad figures moving about. A woman, with a man in like equipment but different insignia beside her.

"Admiral Questar-Benn," the Woman said. Remarkably, she appeared to be in late middle age but undeniably healthy and close-knit. "Commodore Tellin-Makie, of the batdecruiser Santayana."

"Oh, G.o.d is great, G.o.d is Merciful, G.o.d is One," Amos murmured through numb lips. "Bethel?"

"Don't worry. It's a big navy. We hit them as they were getting ready to leave. Reports show not much damage to the planet since you left, if you're Benisur Ben Sierra Nueva."

"Keep firing!" Joseph barked to the others at the barricade. "You can die just as dead winning as losing."

The commodore laughed shortly. "Profoundly true," he said. "Simeon, Ms. Hap, all of you, you've done a very good job. Heroic, in feet We didn't expect to find anything but bodies and wreckage."

"It was a close-run thing," Simeon said feelingly. "A d.a.m.ned dose-run thing." Both the officers seemed to find that amusing.

"Here's my record of the whole thing, start to finish," said Channa and the Navy officers* eyes turned. Evidently they had video of her. Amos hissed a low complaint, and three more holos joined the image of the Santayana's deck.

"We've still got a lot of t%e pirates in station," Channa said. "Should we back off?" She swallowed. "Alotof our people have been hurt"

"Negative," the admiral said, shaking her head. "Give them time to think, and sure as death and fete, one of them will find a way to blow the station. I've got a Marine regimental combat team in the transports. We'll forcedock as soon as I swat the Kolnari warships. That battle platform could be tricky."

The commodore leaned out of the sight picture and spoke to someone else. "Well, then, get the destroyers toenglobe it, then!"

"It's not over until it's over," Questar-Benn said.

"Er... not the Questar-Benn?" Simeon asked, awed.

"Not if you mean Micaya," she said dryly. "I'm the dull sister, the straight-leg." She glanced down at the data flowing in from SSS-900-C. "b.a.s.t.a.r.ds. Murdering sub-human mutant swine. Maybe now the inbred penny-pinching High Families incompetent corruptionists back at Central will get their thumbs out of their backsides and let us do something about Kolnar and all its little offshoots."

"Ma'am," Tellin-Makie said warningly.

"I'm not bucking for another star, Eddin," she said. "I can afford to tell the truth without a bucket of syrup on it" She looked up and out at the stationers. "Here's what we want you to do," she went on crisply.

G.o.d, Amos thought. Thank you. For victory, and for someone else to tell him what to do for a change. Leadership could get very tiring. He suspected Fate was going to send more of it his way. The prospect did not seem as attractive as it once had.

"I never understood what he meant before," Simeon said, looking out at the huge docking chamber which held only the dead, now in covered silent rows. "I thought I did, but 1 didn't."

The medics and their patients were gone, to station sickbays or to the trauma stations of the warships. Equally silent were the motionless Marine sentries who stood with weapons reversed by the Navy dead. The squad at the docking airlock snapped to attention as each shrouded body went by. The civilians looking among the stationer dead were nearly as quiet, only a few sobbing faindy.

"Understood what who meant?" Channa said, blinking behind the dark gla.s.ses that hid her bandages. She appeared detached, almost aloof, just like the two Navy commanders who stood with her and the little group of stationers.

"Wellington," Simeon said." 'Idan'tknowwhat.i.tistolasea battle; but certainty nothing can be more painful than to gam one with the loss ofsomanyfriends.' He said that after Waterloo."

The admiral nodded. "I remember when I found that out," she said very softly. "If you've got a grain of sense, you never forget it."

"Ain't that the truth!" Patsy Sue Coburn said. Beside her, Florian Gusky put his synth-splinted arm companionably around her shoulders. She stiffened, then forced herself to put up a hand and pat it gently. "You don't forget anything. But you learn to live with it. C'mon, Gus. I do believe you owe me a drink."

Channa turned her head toward their footsteps. "Yes," she said, with a bitter smile. "We learn to live with it. If this is heroism, why do I feel like such c.r.a.p?"

"Because you're here," Questar-Benn said. "Heroism is something somebody else does somewhere far away. In person, it's tragedy." Her voice sharpened. "And it could be worse, much worse, and would have been but for you. We did win. You are here. And," she went on more lighdy, "you're heroes in the media, at least Which means, by the way, you can write your own rickets."

"Tickets?" Simeon asked.

"You always wanted a warship posting, didn't you?" she said. "With this on your record..."

Simeon hesitated. Joat had been standing by Channa's side, quiet and drawn. Now the old coldness settled over her face, and she began to edge away.

Everyone's always left her, or cheated her, or hurt her, he thought "I'm not so sure," he said aloud, "that I want a military career any more."

Admiral Questar-Benn nodded vigorously. "That makes you more qualified. They shovel glory hounds out of the Academy by the job-lot and we have to spend years breaking them of such fatuous nonsense."

"Besides, I have a daughter," and his instant and totally gratifying reward was the dawning of hope on Joat's face. "Thanks, though. Maybe, someday." Some dreams don't transfer well into reality, he told himself. He could see Joat's chest lifting with the deeper breaths of self-confidence and she didn't look about to disappear on him.

"And have you soured on Senalgal?" the commodore said, turning to Channa.

"It's still a beautiful world," she said, shaking her head slowly. "But it* s not my home." She reached down to Joat beside her and, touching the girl's face with her fingertips, Amu McQffiey & 5M. Stirling felt the slightest of resistance to such fondling. Learning to trust, and to be a human being, was not something that came quickly or easily. But you had to begin somewhere or you never arrived. "Besides, Joat's my daughter, too. And I've friends here, the best there are Questar-Benn threw up her hands. "Simeon, you're going to be around a very long time. The offer still stands, I'll leave it on record."

"Hey, Pops," Joat said, her voice a little unsteady despite the c.o.c.ky tone. "I mean^ww, Simeon."

"Great Ghu! Canjunt, of all people, not think a more suitable t.i.tle than 'Pops' to call me?" Simeon demanded in a semi-indignant tone, but he would have settled for anything of a familial nature from Joat.

"Sure, but I don't think you'd like to know 'em!" She smiled her urchin grin in his image. "Any rate, I'm gonna be sixteen standard in a few years. Enlistment age. And I don't want you blaming me for s.c.r.e.w.i.n.g up your career plans. I... I'd sort of Uke to keep this from happening to somebody else, you know?" She turned to the admiral. "Think these bra.s.s-a... um, generaltype people might have a use for me?"

Questar-Benn shuddered. "I'm probably perpetrating horrors on some unsuspecting commander left to deal with you in the future, young lady, but yes. I'd be very surprised if we couldn't find a use for all of you." She swept the present company with her piercing gaze.

"Then we may take you up on that offer," Simeon said. Although he was too enervated to enjoy thoughts of revenge, no amount of emotional exhaustion could remove the need to do something about the Kolnari: next week, maybe. "But right now, I'd rather call in the grat.i.tude as a favor, if you don't mind, Admiral," Simeon said.

"Favor? For who?"