Killeen smacked his gloved palm against the alien bulkhead. “Damn!”

Then he heard Jocelyn coming back and made himself take long, calming breaths. It was never a good idea to let an officer, even one as disciplined as Jocelyn, see the Cap’n in a pure, frustrated fit of anger.

“Nothing,” she reported. “Couldn’t see a damn thing happening anywhere in the ship.”

Killeen nodded. He had been certain the craft was completely dead to their commands, but they had to check every possibility. There was precious little else they could do.

He remembered that during the assault on the station he had regretted that, as Cap’n, he was no longer in the thick of things. Well, now his wish had been granted….

Their Flitter had been under way for over an hour. A steady throb of motors gave a slight acceleration toward the aft deck. In these skewed hexagonal compartments this was a particularly awkward orientation, intended for some odd mech purpose.

Jocelyn pulled herself deftly over a tangle of U-crosssection pipes that emerged from the floor and arced into the outer hull. Killeen peered into the mass of wires and mysterious electronic wedges that he had uncovered beneath a floor hatch. He called up his Aspects—Arthur for the electronics craftsmanship of the Arcology era, former Captain Ling for the starship lore of millennia earlier, and even Grey, aloof, sophisticated, so remote as to be nearly inaccessible. No matter who he summoned, none of the ancient personalities offered anything useful. Ling came the closest.

The external entity’s means of controlling this craft may be insidious…note how none of your precautions prevented Mantis from re-asserting itself, upon our arrival. Your mastery over Argo was illusory.

“You mean we never stood a chance,” Killeen said bitterly. “Never did, never will.”

Long ago, before my time, before Grey’s, before even the epoch of the great Chandeliers, it is said that our ancestors once challenged the mechs. Higher entities were forced to acknowledge our existence, rather than delegating our elimination to minuscule mechanisms such as you knew on Snowglade.

It was difficult for Killeen to picture a being like Mantis as “minuscule,” though Mantis itself had said that this was so. Killeen’ s mind could not encompass the heights Ling was implying—heights once assaulted by humanity before the long, grinding fall.

As for your present problem, there is a simple solution. A way to prevent the outside entity from controlling this craft.

“How’s that?”

By destroying its means of receiving instructions. Go outside and wreck the antennae.

Killeen laughed so coarsely that Jocelyn looked up from her useless labor under the floorboards. “Already thought ’bout that. We can’t get outside!”

Before Ling could respond he swept the irritating Aspect to the back of his mind. He tried again to call Shibo on comm.

Reception had improved since the last try, though it still faded in and out, washing her voice in soft static. To him it sounded beautiful.

—How are you doing?—she asked, tense with concern.

“Survivin’. I miss you an’ Toby. How is he?”

—Toby’s fine. He’s up here on the Bridge with me and Cermo. We’re trackin’ you.—There was a pause.—You’re still headed for rendezvous with the approaching ship. It’s hell just sitting here. Can’t budge Argo, come after you.—

“Did you try painting the hull with insulator? It might keep out whatever’s jammin’ the controls.”

—Yeasay. No good. It’s Mantis programs that’ve got us stuck here, embedded too deep.—Her level voice could not hide from him her tight apprehension.—Looks like that method worked on the other Flitters, though. They’re under our control now. We’ll have ’em charged up soon.—

Implied, but unspoken, was the fact that none would be ready in time to rescue Killeen and Jocelyn. Jocelyn reacted to this by spitting on the cabin wall.

“All right,” Killeen said. “Shibo, I want you to form up the Family. Issue provisions. Full field gear.”

—For what?—

“For abandoning the station. Take the Family away.”

—But Argo!—

“We’ll have to abandon Argo too. Detach the farm domes. We discussed that. They’re self-sustaining. Drag ’em along. But get out within twenty hours.”

—But we can defend the station!—It was Toby’s voice, rent with frustration, breaking in.

“Son,” Killeen said. “Get off the command comm.”

—I say we can take these damn mechs!—

Before Killeen could cut his son off, Shibo interjected agreement.

—Yeasay. We’ll stay with Argo, fight off anything that comes.—Shibo’s voice was filled with fierce commitment. Her motivation warmed him, but it frustrated Killeen that he could not make her see.

Lieutenant Cermo’s forceful voice joined in.

—Fight higher-level mechs? From a fixed position? Crazy! Naysay!—

Shibo’s reply sounded uncertain.—We’ll sucker ’em in, jump ’em.—

—They’ll expect that!—Cermo spoke louder than necessary.

—These mechs’re puny!—Toby interrupted again.—We took ’em easy.—

Cermo’s reply was bitter.—Those were just night watchmen. Just wait’ll the Marauder class mechs show up. I tell you we can’t fight things at that level. Not from fixed positions. At least not without help from something like the Mantis.—

—You Mantis-followers!—Toby grated.—Mantis’s mechs were gonna meet us here, you thought. Where were they? They got beat by something else before we ever arrived.—

—Exactly my point! Whatever beat Mantis’s allies is gonna come back here soon. It’s already got th’ Cap’n.—

“Cermo’s right,” Killeen told them, glad that his second lieutenant was showing some sense. He was about to add more praise when Cermo took a completely unexpected tangent.

—Thanks, Cap’n. That’s why I say we head right now for broken ground. Head for territory where we know how to fight, like in the old days, and where we can find allies.—

“You can’t mean…”

—Yeasay! Head for the surface.—

“No! Take the Flitters outward! You can reach the fourth planet. It’s got ice, carbon. We got some Aspects who ’member that kind of life. You can set up domes.”

But Cermo cut in again.

—Argo brought us here for a reason, Cap’n. Some of us say let’s go down and find out what that reason is.—

“But those reasons may be obsolete! They probably are, if Mantis’s allies have lost. Anyway, what about the others in the Family? Those who don’t trust Mantis?”

That had always included the majority of Argo’s crew. Killeen had long counted on their support to overcome the mysticism, or gullibility, of the faction willing to put its faith in the promises of a mech, even a “different” mech as unusual as Mantis. Killeen was confident peer pressure would bring Cermo around.

But Shibo’s next words cut the deck from under him.

—The majority say we should stand an’ fight for the station,—she said in a low, bitter voice he could barely make out.—But the Cap’n has convinced me we can’t. Given that, Cermo’s right.—

“No! Take the Argo. Run!”

—If we take the Flitters maybe I can find you later.—

“Not much chance I’ll be alive long. Somebody wants a look at Jocelyn ’n me. Don’t ’spect it’s just friendly interest.”

Cermo said,—Cap’n, we vote for goin’ down.—

“And I say you don’t.”

With less heat now Cermo sent,—The Mantis…—

“We’re masters of our own lives, dammit!” Killeen shouted.

—The Mantis had somethin’ in mind,—Cermo said stolidly.

“So what? Think it planned that cosmic string? Shibo! What’s it doing?”

In reply she sent a simulation picture that fluttered in his left eye.