"Ah." Cavanagh nodded understanding. "Which means that if anyone's bothering to track our movements, they should conclude we're going there to see him."

"Oh, they'll be tracking us, all right," Bronski said. "If not now, then the minute we cross whatever invisible circle they've drawn around the Garden and their little Conquerors Without Reason project."

And there would be Bhurtala waiting for them in the darkness.... "What do we do then?" he asked, suppressing a shiver.

"We'll go with standard procedure," Bronski said. "We find out what we can and get the hell out."

"Always nice to have a plan," Cavanagh murmured.

"Don't worry about it," Bronski soothed him. "In a pinch I've still got that fake red card I used on you back in Mig-Ka City. It would take a pretty high-level Mrachani not to be intimidated by that."

Cavanagh grimaced. "High-level Mrachanis like Valloittaja, for instance?"

19

The battle lines were drawn. And the Conquerors were on their way.

"Looks like they're about ready out there," Daschka commented over his shoulder. "Are we?"

"As ready as we can be," Cho Ming said. "Power output is at minimum, sensor-stealthing is fully operational, and I've got all sensors and recorders running."

"Conquerors' ETA?"

"Anytime now," Cho Ming said. "We'll get about ten seconds' warning when they start their mesh-in, but that's about it. A ship this size just hasn't got enough hull for a wake-trail detector that'll work on close-in targets."

The flight deck fell silent again. Seated in the copilot seat where he would have a better view of the approaching battle, Aric gazed out the canopy, listening to his heart pounding in his ears. There was a gentle thud against the side of the ship, and he jerked violently against his restraints before realizing that the Happenstance had merely brushed against one of the slowly rotating asteroid fragments they were nestled up against.

"Take it easy, Cavanagh," Daschka said quietly from beside him. "You don't want to burn out all that tension before things even get started."

"Sorry." Aric exhaled, the breath vibrating through his mouth. "I was hoping to be a little calmer than this."

"A little calmer might be nice," Daschka agreed. "But don't overdo it. A certain amount of tension's normal in combat situations. It's good for you—keeps your senses and reflexes sharp."

"Okay—here we go," Cho Ming spoke up. "Mesh-in in ten seconds."

"Double-check the recorders," Daschka ordered, flexing his fingers once and resting them in ready position on his control board. "What about that big unidentified ship?"

"It's still coming," Cho Ming said. "And still unidentified. Two, one—"

And suddenly they were there, meshing in in rapid succession: the conglomerations of thick milky-white hexagons that were the unique design of Conqueror warships.

"I make the count six," Daschka said, peering out the canopy and adjusting its magnification. "Regrouping into probably a battle formation. Where are the rest?"

"They meshed in a hair too soon," Cho Ming said. "I make five ships about fifteen thousand klicks back."

Daschka grunted. "Backup."

Aric grimaced. As if they really needed more than six ships against the Yycromae.

The Conqueror ships finished their maneuvering, and for a long moment nothing happened. Almost as if, Aric thought, both sides were sizing up their opponents. Then, abruptly, drive trails blazed as a dozen Yycroman freighters surged toward the enemy.

"Yycromae ships engaging," Cho Ming reported tightly. "Looks like they're firing shredder-burst guns."

"They're old Celadonese models," Aric said. "I saw a lot of them in the conversion hangar."

"Probably the easiest things they could get their hands on," Daschka said. "Not much use against Zhirrzh hulls, though."

From one of the Conqueror ships a laser beam lanced out, its path dimly marked by ionized upper-atmosphere atoms and vaporized shredder-burst projectiles. One of the Yycroman freighters flashed brilliantly, its drive trail suddenly waggling like the tail feathers of a wounded bird. Two more lasers fired from different hexagons of the same ship, and with two more flashes the drive trail flicked out.

As if that were the signal everyone had been waiting for, the other Conqueror ships opened fire, and for a handful of agonizing heartbeats the black of space flared as the Yycroman freighters flamed into instant death pyres for their crews. Another dozen drive trails appeared as a second group of ships joined the battle, and then another group, and then another. The Conquerors' lasers flashed in response, systematically tracking and destroying the defenders.

And then, as quickly as it had begun, the last of the drive trails was cut off, and it was over.

Supreme Commander Prm-jevev flicked his tongue in perplexity, gazing at each of the displays in turn. "You're absolutely certain?" he demanded again of the cloud of Elders hovering around him.

"There's no doubt at all, Supreme Commander," one of them said again. "Within range of our anchorlines, that's all that's out there."

Another Elder appeared, joining the group. " 'What's going on?' " he demanded. " 'Supreme Commander Prm-jevev, report.' "

Prm-jevev flicked his tongue in annoyance. He'd forgotten what it was like to be at this end of the battle-communication pathway, taking valuable time to describe what was happening to the rest of Warrior Command. "We've just repulsed an attack by a group of small spacecraft," he said. "Extremely small, with virtually no weaponry at all. There are many others in the area, with equally weak weaponry."

The Elder nodded and vanished. "Check the area again," Prm-jevev ordered, looking up at the other Elders. "Order the other warships to spread out a little. This makes no sense at all."

The Elder reappeared. "Speaker Cvv-panav: 'What are you waiting for? Destroy them and launch your ground attack.' "

Prm-jevev flicked his tongue in contempt. That was the Speaker for Dhaa'rr, all right, his slash-tongue attitude blazingly obvious even without the Elder's identification. "I'm waiting, Speaker, because these are clearly not the Human-Conqueror warships we were led to expect," he said tartly. "I have no interest in laying a world waste just for the exercise of it."

The Elder nodded and was gone. "Supreme Commander?" one of the warriors called across the command/monitor room. "Messages are coming in via direct link from the other warships. Their commanders want to know when we will attack."

"When I give the order," Prm-jevev growled. "Until then they are to fire only in defense of themselves."

The Elder was back. "Speaker Cvv-panav: 'Your principles are admirable, Supreme Commander. But they have no place in warfare. If the Human-Conquerors plan a trap, you are merely playing into their snare.' "

A second Elder flicked in. "The Overclan Prime: 'Have you determined there are no warships waiting on the surface or hidden behind the planet itself?' "

"There's nothing on the surface our telescopes can detect," Prm-jevev said, deciding that Speaker Cvv-panav's comment wasn't worth a reply. "As to the horizon, the answer is also no. I dropped part of my force a distance behind me, in a position where they could see the parts of the planetary far side, which we cannot."

The Elder vanished. "More incoming spacecraft, Supreme Commander," a warrior called.

Prm-jevev nodded. "Repulse their attack," he ordered.

"I obey."

The warriors and Elders set about their work... and the Supreme Commander settled down to watch. And to try to figure out what exactly was going on here.

With an effort Aric forced moisture into his mouth. His hands, he noticed suddenly, were gripped rigidly around his restraint straps. "They haven't got a chance," he whispered. "Not a chance."