"Yeah." Cho Ming threw a speculative look at Aric. "Speaking of stubbornness, you notice anything funny about this scenario? We show up and ask for Cavanagh, and the ci Yyatoor just gives him up. No blustering about sovereign rights, no demand for papers or procedures—nothing. She just gives him up."

"I noticed," Daschka agreed, giving Aric a speculative look of his own. "You wear out your welcome, Cavanagh?"

"Not that I know of," Aric said. "Maybe she just gets nervous with NorCoord Military Intelligence people around."

Daschka smiled tightly. "Bright boy," he acknowledged. "What did she do, show you Bronski's signature on her copy of that statement of understanding your father ramrodded through? Where is the honorable Lord Cavanagh, by the way?"

Aric shook his head. "I don't know."

Daschka grunted. "Neither did the ci Yyatoor. Or so she claimed."

"Maybe that's why she gave us this one," Cho Ming suggested. "A bone to keep us happy while she keeps Lord Cavanagh under wraps somewhere."

"As far as I know, he's not here," Aric said. He hesitated— "If you find out differently, I'd be very interested in knowing it."

"I'll bet you would," Daschka said. "Well, let's see if we can find out. Stow your stuff in number-three cabin, then come up to the flight deck."

The flight deck was something of a surprise to Aric when he arrived. The forward part, with the wraparound canopy and piloting/navigational control boards, was about the right size for a schooner-class ship. But the aft section, which normally included only the engineering and life-support monitors, had been expanded to nearly four times the usual size and equipped with a dizzying array of electronic equipment. "Welcome to NorCoord Intelligence, Mobile," Cho Ming said from the depths of one of the three seats in the aft section. "Your first visit, I take it?"

"Yes," Aric said, looking around. About half the equipment he vaguely recognized, or at least could take a guess at its function. The rest he didn't have a clue about.

"Probably your last, too," Daschka called back from the pilot's station. "Needless to say, it all comes under the Official Secrets Regulations. Sit down and strap in—we've got clearance to lift. And don't touch anything."

Aric chose the chair closest to Cho Ming. "Have you found out anything?"

"Only that the Yycromae are suddenly running around like beavers at a bark sale," Cho Ming said, frowning at the displays around him as his fingers danced across one of three keyboards arranged around his seat. "A lot of communications traffic zipping back and forth around the planet—probably ten times the amount a place with Phormbi's population ought to have. Most of it encoded, too—looks like government codes. Something's got them stirred up, but good."

With a lurch the ship started forward. "Maybe your leaving here spooked them," Aric suggested.

"We only spook people when we arrive, Cavanagh," Daschka called back dryly. "Not when we leave."

"Lots of vehicle movement, too," Cho Ming said. "Mostly up by... hmm."

"What?" Aric asked.

Cho Ming was peering at one of his displays. "Daschka, remember that big refitting area the Yycromae had set up over at the Northern Wooded Steppes?"

"Where we found Lord Cavanagh when we were here last? Sure."

"The Yycromae seem to be emptying it."

The ship lifted off the ground and angled upward. "You sure?" Daschka asked.

"Pretty sure," Cho Ming said. "It's over the horizon, but I'm getting enough secondary leakage bouncing off the ionosphere for an eighty-count signature ID. I'd say there are at least fifty ships either gearing up for lift or already on the move."

Daschka swore, a brittle Russian curse. "So much for Yycroman guarantees. I'll bet ten against five they're off to attack the Mrachanis."

"Looks like it," Cho Ming agreed. "Anything we can do about it?"

"Not really," Daschka conceded. "We can send a message skitter on ahead with a warning, but there's not a lot the Mrachanis can do to get ready for them."

"What about Peacekeeper forces?" Aric asked, a cold rage aching in his throat. A rage, and a deep shame. He'd seen those guarantees, too. His father had signed them. He himself had helped arm those ships.

And now the Yycromae were heading out to continue a war that had lain dormant for a quarter century.

"As far as I know, there's nothing between here and the Myrmidon Platform at Granparra," Cho Ming said. "Certainly nothing that could get here in time to intercept that assault fleet."

"If the assault hasn't already started," Daschka pointed out. "For all we know, this could be the second wave. Might explain why the ci Yyatoor was so anxious to get us out of here. Check the wake-trail detector—see if you can pick up anything farther out."

"Right," Cho Ming said, swiveling to face one of his other keyboards. "I hope we've got Yycroman freighter tachyon trails on file. If we don't, this is going to be a little tricky..."

He trailed off. Aric glanced over at him, paused for a closer look. The man's face had gone suddenly tight. "What is it?" he asked.

Cho Ming took a deep breath. "Daschka, I think we can scratch the Mrachani-attack theory. We've got... looks like ten or eleven ships incoming." He turned to look in Daschka's direction. "Conqueror ships."

There was a long, brittle silence. Aric looked forward, too, seeing only the top of Daschka's head above his headrest against the darkening sky as the schooner headed for space. "You sure?" Daschka asked at last.

"Positive," Cho Ming said. "Unless someone loaded us the wrong baseline back at Edo."

The top of Daschka's head nodded slowly. "ETA?"

"About ninety minutes," Cho Ming said. "Wait a minute. I'm picking up something else now. Slightly different vector but still incoming... good God."

"What is it?" Daschka demanded.

"I don't know," Cho Ming said, frowning at the display. "We've got nothing like it in the baseline file. Looks big, though. Huge. I've got to get a copy of this."

"You think it's a new type of Conqueror ship?" Aric asked, his mouth suddenly dry.

"I hope not," Cho Ming said as he keyed his board. "If they've got something that big, we're in very serious trouble."

"Maybe it's a Yycroman warship," Daschka put in. "We found out a month or so ago that they still have a couple stashed away."

Aric gazed at the wake-trail, a sudden thought belatedly occurring to him. A Conqueror invasion force ninety minutes out from Phormbi meant the Yycromae must have detected them nearly half an hour ago. "So that's why the ci Yyatoor let you take me," he murmured, half to himself. "She knew they were coming and wanted us out of here before they arrived."

"Afraid she's going to be disappointed on that last," Daschka grunted. "Cho Ming, we've got seventy or eighty minutes to get someplace where we can watch without getting trampled. See what you can find."

"We're not leaving?" Aric asked.

"And miss the chance to see what happens when a Yycroman warship takes on the Zhirrzh?" Daschka snorted. "You must be kidding."

"We know what'll happen," Aric retorted. "The Yycromae will get cut to ribbons."

"All the more reason to stay and watch," Cho Ming said. "If the Yycromae lose, there may not be anyone left here to report on the battle."

"That's a cheery thought," Aric growled. "And you think the Conquerors will just let us make our recordings and leave?"

"With luck they'll never even know we were here," Cho Ming assured him. "This ship can be rigged for sensor-stealthing that's just a hair short of what Peacekeeper watchships get."

Aric grimaced. "So we're just going to sit out here and watch the Yycromae get slaughtered."

"If you'd rather join in the fight, we can take you back to the ground," Daschka offered, turning half around to look at Aric over the edge of his chair back.