Paola and Erin entered the bridge.

"We're in trouble," Martin said. "Hakim, pull out of orbit…"

Silken Parts pushed through the door as Hakim ordered the ship away from Sleep.

"What's happening?" Erin asked.

"We don't know, but I'm taking us out of here."

"We have a reply now," Hakim said. "From Sleep…"

Salamander's voice filled the bridge. "There have been disruptions on four of our worlds." Salamander's image appeared in flat projection. Crest pointed straight out, three eyes open, hissing loudly behind its words, the bishop vulture managed to convey its disturbance.

"We don't know what's happening," Martin said.

"There is tampering with balances. These worlds are delicate and many lives are in danger."

"We haven't communicated with our…" He couldn't finish the deceptive wording, his tongue caught in too many prevarications. He simply stared at Salamander's image. The bishop vulture lifted its crest, hissed softly.

"You are a lie and a deception," Salamander said. "We have no further need of you."

The image and voice faded. "End of transmission," Hakim said. "Still no success with noach to Greyhound."

The rest of the crew crowded the bridge, watching the long drama play itself out over the next half hour.

The three identical planets—Pebbles One, Two, and Three—abruptly glowed dull orange, then red, then white, in sequence according to their distances from the ship. Their surfaces diffused like paint in water, glowing specks rising and falling.

"Who's doing that?" George Dempsey asked. "Them, or us?"

The seeds of Puffball twisted about as if blown in a gentle breeze. On such a scale, that simple motion spoke of immense energies.

Martin could hardly think in the ensuing babble noise. The cabin filled with Brother smells, stinging his eyes. He saw a cord scramble past him, then watched as a Brother—he could not identify which—disassembled. Silken Parts immediately began gathering up the cords, which clung to fields waving their feelers helplessly.

They didn't even know what weapons Greyhoundnow possessed, or what their effects would be. One effect was obvious—the attack had been launched on many targets almost simultaneously, judging by the arrival of light-borne information at intervals determined solely by distance. That spoke to Martin of noach; and the first object to change its character had been the massive noach station, Blinker.

What are they up to?

"I know what's happened," Ariel said just loudly enough for Martin to hear, bracing herself on a field behind him.

"What?"

"Hans has started the war without telling us."

With a momentary sense of dizziness, as if he had been through all this before, he realized she was probably right.

Hans had used them to give Greyhoundan edge.

"Then why aren't we dead?" Martin asked. His entire back prickled, waiting for imminent death.

Ariel shrugged. "Give them time."

The mom and snake mother came onto the bridge. "This ship has been under steady attack for an hour, and our ability to armor against their weapons is diminishing. We assume control now. Super acceleration is called for," the mom said.

"We don't have the fuel," Martin said.

"We will convert as much as we can," the mom said.

"Can you communicate with the other ships?"

"Yes," the mom said.

" Greyhoundand Shrike?" Martin asked.

"Yes."

"Are they attacking?"

"Yes."

"You knew they would attack?"

"No."

"But you must have known… You must have known when they began?"

The mom did not reply. The volumetric fields expanded. Martin felt their molasses grip, the jerky impediment to all bodily motion.

All slowed in the mire. Martin tried to keep the threads of his attention together. He examined the bridge carefully, separating effect from true perception.

The bridge changed. Walls grew and separated them into pairs. Martin saw that Ariel would be enclosed with him. She stared at him and he turned his head away, the volumetric fields giving permission for every particle to move, move slowly.

"Can you hear me?" Ariel asked.

"Just barely."

"I think we've split up. Trojan Horse.'"

"You've been right so far," Martin said.

"Don't hold it against me," Ariel said.

He shook his head. "Never."

"He's taken our rights away," she said, rather irrelevantly, Martin thought.

Super acceleration ceased two hours later. Martin had barely regained his wits when the ship's voice said, "First attack repelled. We are being followed."

"What in hell has happened?" Martin asked, trying to kick-start his brain by shaking his head, stretching his body in the directionless weightless meaningless walled-in cubicle.

Another voice, Hans caught in the middle of a triumphant yell. Ariel gave a small shriek like a doomed rabbit.

"We're doing it, Martin! Trojan Horsehas gotten the hell away and split up. We haven't forgotten you. We're keeping track of you. But you're being followed."

The cubicle lacked screen or star sphere. "Show us something, tell us what's going on!" Martin cried.

The ship tried to speak, but Hans interrupted. "We've gone black, made our moves. Sorry about not telling you." As casual as that. Sorry about not telling you.

"What the hell is happening, Hans?"

Ariel pushed herself into a corner as if to stay out of his way.

" Trojan Horsebroke up and split. Something's following you. It sure isn't bothering to hide, and it's right on your ass. You and two others are all they've managed to tail. I'd say they're using you to try to find something bigger. If you don't lead them to us—and you won't, my friend—you're dust."

"We have broken this vessel into ten units and accelerated them in different directions outward from Leviathan," the ship's voice said, almost irrelevantly at this point.

We are still more valuable as clues to where the big ships are. They know us. They know our psychology; they figured it out right away, that we wouldn't deliberately sacrifice ourselves, that at some point a rescue would be attempted.

"Hold on a moment," Hans said.

Ariel reached out a hand and Martin took it. "He's going to sacrifice us," she said.

"Show me something," Martin told the ship, whatever kind of ship it was, whatever size. "Show me the outside. What's following us."

A small screen appeared against one wall. A white sphere filled the screen, pocked by glowing blue dots.

"Harpal has your tagalong's coordinates," Hans said. "We'll get it. You should see this, Martin. It is in-credible!"

The white sphere blistered like a plastic ball hit by a torch. The blisters spread open and the sphere diminished. Curls of darkness blanked the whirling stars, streaming from the sphere, reaching toward them.

"Super acceleration," the ship's voice said. Fields seized again, and Martin screamed. The scream was forbidden and died as a hollow glurp in his throat.

He heard and saw again an unknown time later.

Harpal's voice in his ears. "We got your dog, Martin. Thought you should know."

They have Gauge onGreyhound. My dog is waiting for me? No—

"We noached it straight to hell," Harpal said. "It's a beautiful streamer of plasma about fifty thousand klicks long. Christ, these weapons are unbelievable."