"We’re in open space now, toots — nowhere near a sun." The little man grunted. "Nothing to do but keep going, and hope for a lucky break. Maybe the Shaddill will have a malfunction… or shut off their engines for a holy day of rest."

"Is that likely?" I asked.

"No. But when my back is to the wall, I always like to pretend there’s a way to dodge the bullet. Maybe the Shaddill captain will keel over from a heart attack and his crew will run away, thinking we have some fancy cardiac weapon."

"Maybe," Lajoolie murmured, "the captain will let us go because he falls in love with Oar."

"I do not think that is funny," I said.

Uclod asked his tongue. "Don’t be such a party-pooper, missy — when you’re well and truly screwed, either you just sit pissing yourself or you invent some reason to hope. Maybe we’ll get sucked into a wormhole and pop out halfway across the universe."

"Maybe," said Lajoolie, "my talented husband will discover he has telekinetic powers that can hold the Shaddill at bay."

"Maybe our enemies will get eaten by giant glass butterflies," I said sharply. "This game is a waste of time! We should take evasive action."

"We will," Uclod said, "as soon as it’ll do us any good. When the Shaddill get close enough to grab us, we’ll stay out of their clutches as long as possible." He laughed without humor. "It’s not like I want to get caught, missy… but we’re bare-ass in space with nowhere to hide for a few trillion klicks in any direction. We don’t have weapons, we don’t have friends, and we don’t have a lot of options. Run or surrender: pick one." "Hmmph," I said. "I made a very bad choice when I decided to accompany you."

"Do you think so?" Lajoolie asked. "On Melaquin, the Shaddill ship appeared right above your city. They recognized your name; they knew you were supposed to be dead. When they heard you were alive, they said someone bad interfered with their plan. It sounds like they wanted to use you for something. Or at least use your corpse. If they’d landed and found you still breathing, what do you think they would do?"

I had not considered the situation in such a light… but Lajoolie was correct. It seemed quite plausible the Shaddill had been heading for Oarville to carry out some plan involving my dead body. Perhaps that explained why the Pollisand took me from the Tower of Ancestors and gave me medical attention after my fall: as the Shaddill’s enemy, he could somehow foil their plans by keeping me alive.

I should have asked about that. I should have asked him many questions. But he rudely terminated our conversation as soon as I agreed to his proposal, so I did not have time to inquire about topics of personal relevance. If the Pollisand returned now, I would ask how my life and/or death concerned the Shaddill… and why he was not helping us in our current predicament. The Pollisand had bragged of his superiority to other species, yet he was conspicuously absent now that the Shaddill were at close range.

As for the Shaddill themselves — if they had arrived on Melaquin and discovered I was not yet a corpse, would they have endeavored to make me one? I did not know… but however they reacted, I probably would not have enjoyed it. Perhaps it was better I had boarded Starbiter, rather than getting caught on the ground. At least I was still alive and free. And perhaps the Shaddill captain would fall in love with me. It was high time somebody did.

Cat And Mouse… And Another Cat

We flew on. The stick-ship edged ever closer.

It was very most frustrating not to do anything. From the odd perspective of the far-seeing devices, we seemed to be sitting still, just waiting for our doom. But could we shoot at the enemy? No. Could we call for help? No. Could we even scream at our pursuers, cursing them with vile obscenities? Yes we could, but the Shaddill would not hear; they were jamming our broadcasts, so they would not receive any taunts I might transmit.

All I could do was glare at the alien ship, hoping if I hated them strongly enough, they would explode. This never works, but one must try it anyway — one feels it ought to work if your loathing is sufficiently sincere.

After several minutes of the enemy closing upon us, I decided the trick might lie in not looking at them. If I turned my eyes away and refused the tiniest glance in their direction, maybe the Shaddill would simply cease to exist. This was no more plausible than my previous plan, but I was weary of staring at sticks; so I aimed my gaze directly opposite, toward blank blackness and stars… only to find that the blackness was not completely blank.

Far off in the distance, I could see a small object — not like a star but a minuscule bone, a tiny knuckle from a baby mouse’s toe. I held my breath, not daring to speak for fear it would vanish… but it remained in sight as my heart pounded out a beat of ten. The distant object might even have grown by a hair. Another ten count, and I knew it was growing. I also knew what it was: a ship from the human navy, one of those long white batons I had last seen under the blaze of Melaquin’s sun.

Apparently, the four ships which had accosted us earlier were not the only ones sent to Melaquin. One more ship must have been dispatched hours behind its companions, on its way from New Earth to my planet. Since Starbiter was headed for New Earth now, we must be traveling in the same space lane… or at least close enough that the navy ship had heard our attempt at sending a message. They could have detected our "hiccup" and shifted to a course that would let them check the source of the broadcast.

"We are saved," I announced.

"What do you mean?" Uclod asked.

"There is a navy baton-ship coming straight for us. The Shaddill will flee again, for they are terrible cowards… and since we are raster than human vessels, we can outrun the baton anytime we choose."

"You’re a hell of an optimist." But Uclod did not sound as gloomy as his words suggested — he too must have welcomed any prospect of eluding the stick-ship. Given a choice between our Shaddill pursuers and the Technocracy navy, who would not prefer the humans? Better the villain you know than the one you do not… and also I was smarter than humans, which allowed us more chance of escape.

"Oar’s right," said Lajoolie, "there is an Outward Fleet ship. Calculating coordinates…"

"I don’t need numbers," Uclod interrupted. "Just tell me who gets to us first."

"Almost a dead heat," Lajoolie answered. "The human ship is coming straight at us, and we’re aiming straight at them. The gap will close fast. But the Shaddill are right on our tails."

Without thinking, I checked on the stick-ship. It was very most close indeed; in the minutes since I made up my mind not to look at them, they had crept steadily nearer. Now they loomed directly behind us — a great wall of bramble blocking our entire rear view.

"Beware," I said to my companions. "This is the distance at which you were flashed unconscious."

"Not true, toots," Uclod replied. "You’re seeing through long-range scanners now — the Shaddill are still a million klicks away, and I’m hoping their weapon can’t shoot that far. Even so, I’ve decoupled the wife and me from Starbiter’s neural feedback. We can still see, but we aren’t feeling anything. Let’s hope that keeps us awake."

I turned to the front once more and saw the navy ship had grown considerably since my last peek at them. If they possessed long-range scanners like Starbiter, they must see both us and the stick-ship… which meant the stick-ship could also see them. Any moment now, the Shaddill would flee like the cowards they were.

But they did not. They kept coming, lumbering up slowly; and one of the sticks began to reach for us, the same long mouth that had tried to swallow us before.