"Any cloud cities near there?"

"Not unless someone's moved while we've been away."

"Then the rumors are true!"

"Looks like it," the captain agreed.

Throughout the homeward journey, they had monitored the Saturnian news. There had been consistent reports of a combined fleet being raised to oppose the Northern Alliance. Although no one would confirm the stories, the cities reputed to be taking part were all on Dalishaar's list for conquest.

"How long before we start slowing down?" Sands asked.

McCarver glanced up at the chronometer display. "Two hours and twelve minutes. We'll jettison everything and button up in precisely two hours."

Two hours later Lars was in his own acceleration couch watching the view from an aft facing camera.

Saturn had grown until it blocked out most of the sky. They were headed for the western limb of the planet. The original plan had been to decelerate to the ringed planet's orbital velocity, then swing around in a slingshot maneuver toward the big moon. Now they would alter their approach to contact atmosphere. At that point,Vixen would transform herself from spacecraft to aircraft. Instead of a three-day flight to Titan, they would be at the rendezvous point a mere six hours after touching atmosphere.

The scene on Sands's screen switched to show the cargo bay with its collection of life support systems and additional living space.

"Inner airlocks closed and sealed," McCarver ordered.

"Closed and sealed," came the immediately reply of his chief engineer over the intercom. "All lights show green. Ready to jettison."

"Personnel check!"

"Bostwick," the engineer reported. "After power room."

"Ensign McCarver, auxiliary control."

"Spacer Forbes, forward engineering."

"Paulo Renzi, in his cabin."

"Larson Sands, on the bridge!"

"Captain McCarver," McCarver said, completing the roll call. "On the bridge. All right, Mr. Bostwick.

You may jettison the living quarters!"

"Jettisoning now, Captain," came the reply.

There was the sudden sound of latches being disengaged and the hiss of pressurized air. Slowly, the observation dome and extra living quarters rose out of the cargo compartment and sailed off on their own orbit.The camera switched again. This time McCarver and Bostwick ran down another check list before the landing craft was released from its carrying point beneathVixen 's flat belly. Since they were still at hyperbolic velocity, both the living quarters and landing boat would eventually wend their way out into interstellar space.

The two clumps of excess equipment had shrunk to near invisibility when the captain announced they should prepare for prolonged acceleration. Then there was a two-minute wait before a dull roar suffused the ship and a gentle hand clamped down on Sands's chest.

The aft view of Saturn wavered as the ship's exhaust expanded behind them in a wide cone. They were close enough to the planet that they would soon pass inside the radius of the rings. Lars felt a sudden surge of adrenaline. The waiting was nearly over. It would soon be time for action.

Kimber Crawford was cold. She could not remember a time when she had not been. The air conditioning had failed full on and she had gone to bed without any blankets. Worse, her parents did not seem to notice, or maybe they just didn't care. Her mother liked the cold. She remembered how cold her mother's skin had been the last time she had seen her. That had been at her funeral with the frost white flowers around her bier. It had been dreadfully cold in that room, too. Why did they have to do that? Did anyone deserve to spend eternity in the cold ground of Titan? Why couldn't the dead be warm? Why couldn't she wake up long enough to retrieve a blanket from the hall closet? Surely, her mother would not mind. She liked the cold...

Kimber came slowly awake, aware of a thousand frigid knives on her back, buttocks, and legs. She opened her eyes to find a figure in white leaning over her. Beyond the usual bright lights of an operating theater, there was nothing to see. Was that it? Had she been injured and her body frozen until the doctors could treat her? If so, where was Lars? Surely, he would not let them operate on her until he was present!

Then her memory came flooding back. She remembered the horrible deaths the Alliance Marines had inflicted on the entire ground party. She remembered the ride to orbit with Halley Trevanon beside her.

She remembered the final interview with Mikal Blount before they had dumped her in a tank and put her to sleep.

"Where am I?" she groaned, unaware of how unoriginal that query was. Despite its familiarity, the doctor misunderstood her intent.

"You are just coming out of subtemperature suspension. Do you remember who you are?"

She nodded weakly, and then asked again, "Who are you and where am I?"

The doctor peeled back first one eyelid and then the other, shining a bright light in her eyes as he did so.

"I am Doctor Sprague and you are in Navy Headquarters aboard Cloudcroft."

He ignored her groan. The doctor finished examining her in an efficient manner, then injected her with something to make her sleep again.

The next time she woke, she was in a hospital bed. She recognized it by the high, narrow design. The white painted room had a privacy curtain that slid in a track on the ceiling. The curtain was retracted, and beyond it was a door with a square window. Someone was standing with his back to the window, undoubtedly a guard.She lay in bed for long minutes, taking stock of her situation. She was clothed in a hospital gown with a slit up the back, had no idea where her clothes were, and was locked in a guarded room (at least, she assumed the door was locked). She wondered idly why she was alive, and where Halley was.

At the thought of Halley, another memory came flooding back to her. Bolin had planned to use the two of them as bait to capture Lars! Suddenly, she felt almost as bad as she had when she first came out of cold sleep. She began to weep uncontrollably.

Thirty seconds later the door opened and a man in the uniform of a Navy captain stepped inside. She stopped the flow of tears with an effort of will, reaching up to quickly wipe away the evidence.

"No need to panic, Miss Crawford. Nothing is going to happen to you."

"Who are you?"

"The name is Berghoff. I work for Grand Admiral Samorset."

"What are you going to do with me?"

The man sighed, and said, "I really don't know how to answer that. You really know too much for us to let you go. On the other hand, your father is raising a fleet to rescue you. We may need to trade you at some future time in order to make him desist. How does it feel to be the 'face that launched a thousand ships?'"

"You're lying!"

He shrugged. "Why would I lie? It would obviously be better to keep this information from you. I am being honest so you will not give up hope and do something stupid, like trying to escape. Youcan't , of course. You are at the heart of our most secure facility. Still, if you should make the attempt, you might be harmed. We can't take that chance."

"My father will never negotiate with you after what your people did on Earth!"

"Then it will be war for sure," Berghoff replied with a diffident shrug.

"What about Halley Trevanon? Is she here?"

Berghoff hesitated a moment, then smiled. "No reason I shouldn't tell you, I suppose. She is in the next room. Naturally, the two of you will not be allowed to speak. Is there something I can get you? Some service I might perform to make your stay more comfortable?"

"You can let me go."

"I'm sorry, but that is something I cannot do. I will check on you from time to time. Good bye."

She watched him go, then lay back to consider what he had told her. She had no way to know whether he had lied or not. Was her father really organizing a rescue, or was that some sort of psychological game they were playing with her? Maybe sheshould try to escape! But how? She laid back and closed her eyes, choosing to rest before considering the problem at greater length. The corners of her mouth turned upward in a brief smile just before she drifted off. There was one thing she could be certain of. They had yet to capture Lars. If he had fallen into their hands, they would have no reason to keep anyone alive.

Vixenhad entered Saturn's atmosphere moving west to east. Now, deep within the North TemperateBelt, they made for the southern cloud wall. There they found a split leading to a small eddy storm.

Within the eye of that storm, a fleet of ships waited for them. Sands watched in amazement as the long-range scanner painted the fleet's composition. There were six large airships, the smallest of which was half a kilometer in length. Around them swarmed nearly a hundred smaller craft: cruisers, destroyers, prowlers, air sharks, patrollers, and single seat fighters.

As impressive as the diversity of ships were the transponder codes that proclaimed each vessel's city of origin. The screen flashed the identities of aircraft from New Rochelle, Moskva Free State, Shin Nippon, Sturdevant, Halloway, and the Corwin Confederation. Nor were all the cities located in the North Temperate Belt. There were several contingents from cities in the North Equatorial Belt. All had one thing in common. Each had made the Alliance's list for future conquest, or had dependencies that had.

"Hello,Vixen , this is fleet final approach control. Come right to one-seven-eight true."

"Coming right," McCarver said.

They had first been challenged several hundred kilometers out by roving patrol craft. Sands had no doubt that the surrounding cloud walls were alive with vessels and saturated by all manner of sensors. In addition, Titanian spacecraft orbiting overhead kept watch on the Northern Alliance and its fleet. They would signal the moment they detected a sortie. Whoever was in command of this fleet was taking no chance of another surprise like that at the Battle of New Philadelphia.

Approach control sent the Titanian spacecraft toward the largest of the airships, a flagship of the Corwin fleet. As they approached to within ten kilometers, they slowed to two hundred kilometers per hour. That was the slowestVixen could go in atmosphere without having to use underjets. By the time they had closed to one kilometer, approach control ordered them to halt completely. Captain McCarver did as ordered and balanced his ship on the hot flame of her jets.

They hovered for five minutes while a small prowler transferred six figures in environment suits to the freighter's upper fuselage. Bostwick let them in through the overhead hatch. The boarding party made a quick search of the ship to confirm its identity. Then following a quick consultation with the flagship, the leader of the boarding party gave McCarver permission to proceed with docking.

Sands watched as the silver airship grew in the forward windscreen until there was nothing else to see.

Vixen edged forward on her underjets toward the black maw of the hangar bay. They crossed over a landing stage whose open grillwork allowed their jet blast to pass unimpeded. McCarver lowered his ship to the stage and shut down all engines. A working party attached a cable toVixen 's nose and winched the freighter into the landing bay. Once inside, it was immediately surrounded by armed guards.

"All right," the leader of the boarding party ordered, "everyone out!"

They filed out one at a time. They found themselves in a cavernous space inside the giant airship. Even though the landing bay was huge, it was stuffed to capacity with smaller vessels of every description.

Sands suddenly realized why there were so many heavier-than-hydrogen craft buzzing about outside.

There just was not enough docking capacity to land all vessels at once. Unless an aircraft was undergoing maintenance, it had to orbit continuously under its own power.

As the six survivors of the expedition to Earth descended fromVixen 's port airlock, they were met by an officer in the livery of the Moskvan Navy.

"Gentlemen, you will come with me," he said in the rough Moskvan accent.

"Where are we going?""To meet the Fleet Council," the officer replied. "Please, we must hurry. There is much to do. We move on the Alliance in only four more days!"

Chapter 30: Strike Force Redemption.

The officer escorted Sands and Paolo Renzi from the landing bay to a conference room with a transparent wall. Beyond the wall was the flagship's Combat Information Center. The rows of consoles and tactical displays reminded Sands of his last night aboardDelphi . Those screens too had shown clear sky out to the limits of detection. He remembered how quickly that had changed.

"Hello, Lars," a voice said as he gazed out across the ranks of ship controllers. Sands turned to discover Envon Crawford standing behind him. The factor was one of several who had entered the compartment a few moments after Sands and Renzi.

"Hello, sir. Any word on Kimber?"

Crawford grimaced. "She's aboard Cloudcroft. We think they are holding her in Naval Headquarters."

"Have they made any demands?"

"Dalishaar assures Ganth Bartlett that everything will be cleared up in a few days. I hear through other channels that she is to stand trial. The only consistent demand we're getting is that you surrender for unspecified 'crimes against the Alliance.'"

Sands bit his lower lip. "Then maybe that is what I should do."

"Don't talk crazy!"

"It isn't crazy if I can save Kimber and Halley. It is simple mathematics. One life for two."

"Mathematics isnever simple when the equation is written in human lives."

"What about everyone who will die if this armada goes head to head with the Alliance fleet? Don't they count for something?"

Crawford looked shocked. "Surely you don't think this armada has gathered for the sole purpose of rescuing my daughter!"

"Why else?"

"Those ships are out there because their cities' independence is threatened by the Alliance's possession of energy screens. They would rather fight now than surrender later. If we win, we will require the Alliance cities to disperse. If we lose, it won't matter because Cloudcroft will then be the undisputed master of the North Temperate Belt."

Crawford put his hand on Sands's shoulder before continuing in a softer voice. "You and I love Kimber, Lars. We want her safe. That is natural. However, to the rest of the strike force, the issue is just not relevant. The attack will proceed regardless. Kimber would not want you to throw your life away, and neither do I."

Lars nodded somberly. "Message received. I'll put my hair shirt back into storage."Just then, a short man with a chocolate complexion and eyes to match entered the compartment. His insignia proclaimed him a fleet admiral of the Corwin Confederation. The admiral strode to the head of the conference table and waited for everyone to take their assigned seats.

"For our two guests, I am Fleet Admiral Ramadan Vishnu, commanding Strike Force Redemption.

These other officers are members of my battle staff." Vishnu's gaze rested on Paolo Renzi. "I presume you are Professor Renzi, sir."

"I am."

"Each man here has studied your report concerning the expedition to Earth. Would you favor us with a summary of your discovery and its significance?"

"If you wish, Admiral." Renzi leaned forward and gave a simplified explanation of energy screens and the physical principles involved. He then went on to describe the screen's potential as both a defensive barrier and a shield against the flaring sun.

A Moskvan captain at the far end of the table cleared his throat. "These screens, Professor. They are impervious toall forms of matter and energy?"

"That is true."

"Surely there must be some countermeasure we can take against them. What about nuclear weapons?"

Renzi shrugged. "Any large scale nearby explosion would buffet an encapsulated city with its expanding shock wave, of course. The effect on those inside would be similar to a terrestrial trembler."