Zeta Exchange.

by Ann Wilson.

Deep s.p.a.ce, 2669 CE

Ranger James Medart was standing beside Captain Jean Willis' control chair aboard the Empress Lindner, enjoying the peaceful trip back to Terra after a surprisingly uneventful cruise. He'd kept busy enough to avoid boredom, but there'd been no emergency calls, which made the cruise almost a vacation. Pleasant as it had been, he found himself almost wishing for the challenge of an emergency. Not quite, since an emergency serious enough to require a Ranger's attention meant the Empire was in trouble, and that part he didn't like--but the challenge he did. Maybe he'd ask for a tour in one of the alternate universes with an Empire just getting started, one that didn't have a full quota of home-grown Rangers to cope with the many problems of a brand-new Empire. He wouldn't mind visiting Sierra again; he'd had a hand in selecting both its Sovereign and her Successor, so he had a personal interest in its well-being.

He'd barely completed that thought when his surroundings disappeared.

He was nowhere, in some sort of timeless sensory deprivation--

--then he was standing in the middle of a pentagram surrounded by other symbols he didn't recognize, facing a woman in a uniform identical to his own. Since he didn't know the woman herself, it seemed pretty clear he'd been brought to an alternate-universe Empire--and that had to mean it needed help, badly. It looked like he was getting the challenge he wanted, though not in any way he could've expected.

He grinned at his other-universe colleague. "I'm James Medart, of Alternate Alpha Prime. What's your problem?"

"Ariel of Rolian, Zeta Prime." The woman smiled, looking relieved.

"You're all right?"

"Fine."

"Good. Inter-universe summoning spells are sometimes as rough on the subject as they are on the magician; I'm glad you were spared that.

But I wasn't, so I need to rest before I brief you. I'll take you to the bridge and introduce you, then let you get acquainted while I recuperate for three or four hours."

"You're the expert here," Medart agreed. "It's safe to leave the pentagram?"

"Yes, of course." She frowned. "You're not familiar with magic?"

"Only what I've picked up from fantasy stories and games of Treasure Tunnels. It doesn't work in Alpha Prime--or in any of the other universes I've visited till now, either. But when I show up in the middle of a pentacle with a Ranger who obviously takes magic for granted, it seems pretty clear this is one where it does."

The other Ranger frowned again. "That's strange. You're from a high-probability alternate, then--sophisticated technology, no magic--but my spell was designed to summon a high-powered sorcerer."

Medart chuckled. "Either it glitched, or I am one and don't know it.

I've played Tunnels characters who used magic, but I don't know a thing about the way it really works."

"In that case, I'd say you are and don't know it. I haven't had a spell miss its mark that far since I was in middle school. We'll find out for sure when you meet Captain Chavvorth, though. He's what we call a Reader, he can sense things about you just being in your presence." Ariel sighed, showing fatigue she'd concealed before. "And he tends to worry about me, since an inter-universe summoning can be tricky. Not to mention dangerous, if you tap into the wrong alternate.

Would you mind if we go there now?"

"Sorry--of course not." Medart followed her out of the symbol-decorated room and through corridors that looked like a standard Imperial Navy ship's, though something he couldn't pinpoint right away seemed odd--something missing, maybe. "I can accept, though I don't understand, that you brought me here by magic. But this feels like the hyperdrive ships I know, and your sidearm looks like an issue blaster.

I was under the impression magic and science didn't mix."

"They usually don't," Ariel replied. "Magic-using universes are much lower probability than technological ones, and the magic/technology mix is far lower even than that--but there are a few, and this is one."

She smiled back at him. "Other than that, this universe should be almost a duplicate of yours, in everything important. I'd be willing to bet you'd even recognize this ship's designation, maybe name--IBC Emperor Barton."

"I do," Medart said. An Imperial Battle Cruiser, named after the twelfth Sovereign. "Then from what you've said about Captain Chavvorth, I'd expect him to be a Traiti."

"He is." They were at the Bridge by then; the door slid open to admit them, and the Traiti in the command chair stood, showing open relief as he scrutinized Ariel.

"You are well, ka'naya Ranger!" he said.

"Fine, Captain. This is my colleague from Alpha Prime, James Medart."

The Traiti bowed, crossing arms over his chest in that race's formal gesture. "I am honored, Ranger Medart."

Medart returned the gesture. "Likewise, Captain Chavvorth. I'm pleased to see that humans and Traiti share the Empire even in a universe so distant from mine."

"As am I--though I sense that until recently we were at war in yours, and you were nearly killed by one of our fighters."

"Right." Medart tried to hide his astonishment, and reply as though it were normal for someone in such a remote universe to know that kind of personal detail. "I wouldn't call a hundred years ago recent, but I suppose to a Traiti it would be . . . I was almost torn in half, and your people survived only because my colleague Steve Tarlac took your Ordeal of Honor and then died, becoming one of your G.o.ds. Peacelord Esteban."

"The one who kept that war from happening by doing the same here," the Traiti said. "He was able to determine the reason for the first incident, and then the way to prevent escalation. His courage in coming to us alone, we believe, saved millions of lives."

"Try billions," Medart said. "We were never able to determine accurate casualty figures, but the best estimate for both sides, military and civilian, is between eight and ten billion, mostly Traiti. And we came entirely too d.a.m.n close to genocide before Steve was able to end the war."

"But he did," Chavvorth said calmly, "and we took our proper place in your Empire as we did here." His expression became taut. "Have you encountered the Sandemans?"

"Yes, sixteen years before the Traiti War. A century and a quarter ago." Medart frowned, scanned the Bridge crew. That was what he'd thought strange earlier--there were none of the small, dark-skinned blonds who were such a significant part of Alpha Prime's military.

That, the phrasing of Chavvorth's question, and a major threat to this Empire came together in a conclusion as frightening as it was suddenly obvious. Medart allowed himself a quiet, intense, and uncharacteristic oath. "Holy Creator and all the G.o.ds! You just met them!"

"Yes," Ariel said, her fatigue seeming to vanish in eagerness. "You were able to defeat them?"

"We could've, but it wasn't necessary," Medart said. "I was able to use persuasion instead--along with five battle fleets to show them the alternative to peace. They'd managed to take over almost half of Sector Five by then, but they accepted annexation as a Subsector, and they've been loyal citizens ever since."

"You missed a Sandeman war," Ariel said thoughtfully, "and we missed a Traiti war. Steve Tarlac avoided or ended the Traiti war in both, and my spell summons the one who avoided the Sandeman war in his. I think that for the first time in three years, I can dare to hope."

Captain Chavvorth turned to her. "I also, Ranger. But with respect, I suggest you go rest. While you are doing that, I can begin teaching Ranger Medart to use his mage-power."

"He is a magician, then!" Ariel exclaimed in relief. "My spell said he should be, but when he denied it-- How powerful?"

"The strongest I have ever felt, sir." The Traiti smiled at Medart, gestured as he murmured something, and was holding a candle. "You have had no instruction, but your raw power should be adequate to light this if you concentrate."

The equivalent, Medart thought, of someone with PK Talent exciting the molecules of the wick to ignition temperature. He'd never shown any trace of that aspect--his only Talents, besides the basic mind-screen and telepathy, were healing and darlas--but this was supposed to be magic, not psionics; he had no reason not to try. He focused his attention on the candle, following an impulse to point at it as he willed it to light.

He felt a sensation of warmth flow into him and channel along his arm--then flame erupted from his fingers, enveloping both the candle and the hand that held it.

Instantly, Medart broke his concentration. The candle was burning, but it was sagging, and the Traiti's hand was reddened.

Chavvorth blew out the candle, his expression bemused, and put it down.

"That was more . . . dramatic than I had expected, Ranger."

"A h.e.l.l of a lot more than I expected," Medart said. "Let me see your hand."

The Traiti obeyed. Medart took it, concentrating again--but this time it was a familiar, trained ability he called on. Redness faded, vanished; he released the hand. "There. You should be okay now."

Chavvorth flexed his fingers, extending and retracting his claws. "It is fine--but that was not a spell."

"Nope. That was psionic Talent, a rare but perfectly normal ability."

"So is mage-power, here," Ariel put in. "I'd like to stay and talk, but the spell-reaction's getting me to the point I can't function much longer. Why don't you two go someplace comfortable and keep getting acquainted while I recuperate? Chavvorth can brief you on the Sandemans as well as I could, James."