Silverfleet and Claypool
Chapter 16: The Ringstroms of Alcen

The Alcen system was spread out before them: a large yellow star and a medium-sized red star dancing intimately three light hours apart, a few planets taking elliptical orbits at a respectful distance, and then a dull red dwarf lurking in the shadows a quarter of a light year away. Beyond the dwarf, a fairly bright star in the sky was the single sun of Central, its four gas giant planets hidden in the distance along with the small blue world where humans, cats, trees, insects, fungi and the G220 fighter had gotten their start.

Here at Alcen, around the starbase located above the single terraformed and colonized planet, they could see a fleet forming the likes of which none of them had ever seen. Central had been calling in all its forces from across the Zone, and here were about seven tenths of all the Central spaceships in the galaxy. There were two battleships, the biggest fighting vessels ever built. There were half a dozen battlecruisers, a couple of dozen cruisers, a dozen driveless “planetary” cruisers, a vast number of freighters, armored merchants and troopships, and hundreds of fighters.

“They’re really worried,” said Cloutier over the comm, as the thirteen fighters decelerated. “It’s a pity, really. A thousand battleships could only manage to defeat this thing by accident.”

“They’re still trusting in might,” said Fiona.

“What else can they do? And you have to admit it’s impressive.”

“The Crystal Beast is a lot more impressive,” said Dalsandro.

“Okay,” said Silverfleet, “here’s what we’re going to do. It worked on Midday—me and Fiona and Julie and Elan will go in to negotiate terms of assistance. The rest of you will find a rock to hide under.”

“Don’t get your hopes up,” advised Claypool. “The finest minds in Starfleet are here, I’m sure. But I’ve heard of a rock we could hide under. There’s a well-mined-out asteroid—”

“Oh, yes,” said Carin Ringstrom, Alcen’s child. “The Holey Place, we called it. We used to go flying around in the mineshafts. There are even a few pressurized rooms in there with functioning life support. We used to party there when the commanders weren’t watching us. There it is—I’m sending the spot. It’s about two light hours from here, about two light hours out from the planet. We thought it was our secret. How did you know about it, Commander?”

“I was born on Alcen, didn’t you know?” Claypool replied. “We had hard times in my family, that’s how we ended up on Enderra. My, uh, dad was killed in a space accident. He was in Starfleet. But he took me out for a fly when I was about eight, and we went out there.”

“Okay, then,” said Silverfleet. “The Holey Place it is. Let’s make sure everyone gets the coordinates. Um, Carin, why don’t you come with us? Having Julie along at Midday seemed to work, so maybe we should have an Alcenian.”

“Sure thing, Commander. Of course, the name ‘Ringstrom’ might not be the happiest way to introduce ourselves to the White Hand of Alcen. I always had to explain that I was from the School Road Ringstroms, not the Ringstroms of Capital House. We were dirt poor.”

“There’s a lot of dirt poor at Alcen,” said Claypool. “Take care, Halyn. Don’t trust them one millimeter.”

“Take care yourself,” Silverfleet called back. “All right, girls, might as well split up now. We can still communicate for a while between the two groups, but quiet channels only, understand? Okay. Suz, you’ve got Del, Conna, Meena, Vya, Jana, Cera and Selun. Fiona, Julie, Carin and Elan are with me. See you soon, Suz.”

“I’ll see you soon, Commander. Be careful. I mean it.”

The two groups split, Claypool’s eight decelerating at full to stop among the asteroids, Silverfleet’s five coasting in toward the big star. Claypool was already setting watches twenty-four hours later when Silverfleet made contact. When they were within a light hour of the main Alcen starbase, Silverfleet sent her greetings in a statement that had been passed by Claypool, Fiona and Carin Ringstrom.

“This is Commander Halyn Silverfleet calling the commander in chief of Central forces at Alcen. Commander Fiona Rigan and I have brought our wings of fighters here to offer assistance in dealing with the deadly danger that approaches. We come from Midday, where we succeeded in preventing the deaths of twenty-three million people. We know more about the thing that destroyed ecosystems on Marelon, Talis and Midday than anyone in our galaxy: we have twice flown inside it, and we have some theories about how to fight it. We know that overwhelming force will do little against this enemy, and that photon fire in particular seems to have no effect upon it. We humbly offer our expertise in hope that the authorities of Alcen and Central will be able to save their populations and their planets from destruction. Nearly all of us were members of Starfleet at one time or another, and our goal is the same as yours, to save the lives of people on our two most populous planets. Please contact us to work out an arrangement. Silverfleet, out.”

They continued coasting in, and four hours later, when they were within forty light-minutes, they received Central’s reply. “This is Central Command Alcen,” said an official voice. “You will contact the rest of your wings immediately and instruct them to join you. You will report to Bay 3 of the Battleship Africa. You are now receiving flight path. When you arrive, exit your fighters and stand by for arrival interviews. Final disposition of individual personnel will be decided after interviews. If you have any questions, they will be answered when you are in Bay 3. Central Command Alcen, out.”

“Those bastards,” said Fiona. “Let me try.” She punched up her long-distance comm, and started in. “Central Command Alcen, this is Commander Fiona Rigan. Look, we want to help. We’re offering knowledge about this thing that you just don’t have. We know how to save lives, and if anyone’s going to figure out how to stop it, it’ll be us. You certainly need us more than we need you. So tell us where we can meet and under what terms, and forget about Bay 3 and arrival interviews. Rigan, out.”

“They won’t even answer,” said Dalsandro.

“I know,” said Fiona.

Still they were all a bit surprised when, an hour and a half later, the Central Starfleet began moving out of its moorings. Five cruisers and thirty-six fighters separated from the station and turned toward the five oncoming fighters. “Come about,” said Silverfleet. “They don’t want to talk. Let’s head for that moon.”

In another sixteen hours, the five fighters had pulled around a planetoid, turned outward for a quick run and found their way into the “Holey Place.” There they followed Claypool’s comm signal down the old mining tunnels to a cavern a kilometer inside the planetoid, where eight other fighters hung in space near an airlock in a bare wall.

“You’re back already,” said Claypool. “How’d it go?”

“Just like you said,” replied Silverfleet. “Suzane, is there something you’d like to tell us?”

“What?”

“They’re coming this way, Suz. A quarter of the fleet—five cruisers, three dozen fighters, a battlecruiser behind. They wanted us to turn ourselves in, and get you to come in too. We didn’t, so they’re coming after us.”

“Maybe they’re just stupid, like at Talis,” suggested Cloutier.

“No. It’s not just that. So, Suz, you have something to tell me?” Claypool looked back at her with incomprehension. “Suzane,” said Silverfleet, “it’s no secret that you have a secret. They were offering platinum to recruit me, but you they wanted alive and in chains. There was a reward. When I went to Taraadya, they just wanted me to leave, but you they wanted to buy to take home to Central—and put on trial. Suzane,” Silverfleet went on, “why did they chase you all the way to New Home? Why did they even follow us to Black Rock? And why are they sending a quarter of their entire fleet to attack us, when even they must figure they need every ship they can get? It doesn’t make any sense.” One more moment of silence. “Except that here we are at Alcen, and this is where you were born.”

“How much do you know?” asked Claypool of Fiona.

“You’re some kind of political criminal,” said Fiona. “Except that doesn’t make any sense, because you wouldn’t have even had pubic hair when Central took over Alcen.”

“And I would’ve known you,” said Silverfleet. “I first met you at Talis.”

“No,” said Claypool, “we met. Here at Alcen.” She laughed, then composed herself and said, “I was Renna Ringstrom.”

“What?”

“Magnus Ringstrom’s missing granddaughter,” said Carin Ringstrom.

“Yes,” Claypool confirmed. “Maybe your long-lost cousin, who knows?”

“Suzane, you’re not serious—?” Silverfleet started. She shut her mouth and stared at the woman who had been her comrade these eighteen months. “I don’t know what to say. Really? You’re Renna Ringstrom? I figured you were just some disillusioned patriot.”

“No, I was Renna Ringstrom.” Claypool sighed. “I was fourteen, almost fifteen, so yes, I did have pubic hair, Fiona.” She laughed a tiny bit. “It’s been so long since I’ve said the name. Renna Ringstrom. But I see it all every time I close my eyes. I don’t know how many of you remember the Ringstroms, of course Carin, you do, and so do you, Halyn, and Fiona, because you—”

“I know. I helped overthrow them. I’m, uh, really sorry.”

“No. No, it wasn’t you. Anyway.” She took a long breath. “My grandfather had been premier of Alcen for forty years, and his father, and his mother, and her father before that, were all premiers in a row. For two hundred years the Ringstroms were really the constitutional monarchs of Alcen. They kept it free of Central, they built it up economically, they tried to keep it a stable republic—but of course there were problems, it was always too crowded—there isn’t as much living space here as on Central, and we know how crowded and polluted that is. But we, uh, they, uh, tried, you know, to make Alcen, um—”

“Everyone loved Magnus,” said Carin Ringstrom.

“The Ringstroms were popular for two centuries,” said Silverfleet. “It was only the White Hand agitators that ended that.”

“I think all the time about that last year or two,” said Claypool. “I didn’t understand. We couldn’t believe what was happening. It was like we were living on an island, where we’d lived for hundreds of years, and it was washing away all of a sudden.” She looked at Silverfleet. “I met you when I was twelve. You’d just gone over to our side. You had dinner with the family.”

“Oh, yes,” said Silverfleet. “I remember Magnus, of course—big hands. Big laugh. Your mom, his daughter—little woman, worried.” She got a far-off look. “I remember you. Yeah. Renna. Skinny little waif. You really don’t look the same. I bet you didn’t have pubic hair back then.”

“I suppose I didn’t. Oh, Halyn, you look just the same. Oh, I idolized you. I remember watching you, wondering if I could ever be like you. Be as good as you. You were supposed to be a hothead, but they also said you were the new Selkirk. Everyone said you didn’t care about anything, it was just glory and money. I know you so well now. That Silverfleet seems like just a different person in the same skin.”

“I am, but I’m not. You’re more different.”

“That’s no surprise,” said Fiona. “They killed your whole family. There was a hunt for you all over the Colonized Zone.”

“When your fleet came, Fiona, I don’t think anyone expected we’d lose even though we were outnumbered. But we didn’t have Silverfleet, or any of that group of really top pilots—”

“We’d moved on,” said Silverfleet. “We got hired away by, oh, Ticeti, I think. Roberta got killed. We all went different ways. If only we’d stayed together.”

“It’s not your fault for leaving,” said Claypool. “What else would Silverfleet do, at age twenty-two, not knowing what was going to happen? None of us knew what was going to happen. It’s not Fiona’s fault either, for answering the call—what did she know about Alcen’s problems? It happened. There was room for them to work on the discontent of the people. Anything that was wrong was the Ringstroms’ doing. Plenty was wrong, of course. Alcen had its problems. The discontent made my grandfather react, and they used that. At first there were concessions and then he tried to get tough, and that made his opponents more determined. It just escalated from there. Then Central intervened to keep the peace, and when we sent our fleet out to meet them, people on the planet cheered for a Central victory. They got what they wanted. Our fleet was wiped out.

“I was assigned to training patrols in a floater over the southern continent. I didn’t know it, but there was an arrangement. Only three of our fighters survived the battle. They found me at the base and one of them made me take her fighter. I didn’t want to, but the enemy were already landing, and my grandfather had already been overthrown. So I left. The other two fighters covered my escape—they both got shot up, to let me get away. But I couldn’t bring myself to really leave, so I came here, to this old mined-out asteroid. It was supposed to be a rendezvous in case our fleet lost, but I was the only one who made it.

“So I sat here and watched as my old Alcen was ripped to shreds. I saw it all on the video—right here in this room. I thought if I hid out at this asteroid, I could use it as a base for, oh, some kind of heroic counterattack. I knew I’d be killed—I was what, fourteen, almost fifteen, but I knew. But somehow I didn’t get going in time, and then I was sitting here watching my grandfather, my grandmother, my mom and dad, my brother, who they thought would eventually get his turn at Premier, my mom’s sister, even a couple of cousins, all the loyal ministers—I saw them all executed. The voice-over said something like, ‘And so the people of Alcen get their just revenge upon the evil dictator and his entire family.’ And that’s when I knew.”

“Knew what?” asked Jana Crown.

“Knew about revenge,” said Silverfleet. “Shit, Suz. I never had any idea.”

“Wow,” said Conna, petting Helga. “You’re Renna Ringstrom. Even on Marelon, we heard about the missing Ringstrom.”

“So you got out, somehow?” asked Julie Dalsandro.

“Yes. It wasn’t so hard. They’d taken a lot of losses to their fighter wings, and they were busy directing their troopships. They were busy slaughtering about thirty million people. Yes, that’s about right. Somewhere around thirty million, that first year. I slipped out—actually, I went to Midday first, and you’d think someone would have noticed a lone fighter pilot with an unmarked fighter, but things were more lax in those days. I landed at the starbase, I traded off some platinum, I got some repairs. Then four fighters came from Alcen and I waited around just long enough to see that they were looking for me. I pulled out of there while they were having dinner with the starbase commandant.”

“And you headed for Enderra?”

“There were a couple of steps in between, of course, but yes, that’s the next place I actually stopped for a look around. I enrolled at the academy. They were just coming under pressure from Central and they needed anyone who could fly a fighter, and I told them about how my father was killed in a space accident but he’d left me his fighter. I’ve been telling that story ever since.”

“You told it to me on Black Rock,” said Silverfleet. “It was well-refined by then. There was an aunt and uncle, I think.”

“You must’ve been a pretty good pilot by that time,” said Fiona.

“Yes,” said Claypool, “but I had a lot to learn about gunning. I just kept remembering about, yeah, revenge. So I learned. I tried not to be noticed in school, but I fenced, I played chess. I learned the quick kill. And I had revenge on five Central fighters the day Starfleet showed up to conquer Enderra.”

“How many of them lived?” asked Cloutier.

“Zero.”

“I feel honored.”

“You weren’t Central,” said Claypool. “I know how to kill. I’m glad I spared you, Del. You’re a credit to fighter pilots. You’re good, and you’re loyal, and you care about your sisters. I don’t think about the ones I killed.”

“And the White Hand’s been doing the same thing they did at Alcen, ever since,” said Conna. “That’s what they did to Talis, isn’t it? Foment unrest and intervene. And at Marelon, they murdered around two hundred thousand.”

“I don’t understand one thing,” said Selun Ro. “Why are they still after you? Why do they care? It’s not like you could just show up on Alcen and everyone would follow you.”

“No,” said Claypool. “But there was Herrik.”

“Herrik Ringstrom,” Carin Ringstrom explained. “About ten years ago—is that right, is it really ten years?”

“It seems like a century,” said Claypool.

“Was he really your cousin?”

“Like second cousin. He wasn’t actually a Ringstrom as such—his mom’s name was Finn. He was apparently just part of the underground. But they got him and put him on trial, just to show everyone what happened to loyalists. There were actual demonstrations, I’m told.”

“There certainly were,” said Carin. “I heard a hundred thousand gathered at the Justice Square. I heard they gunned down ten thousand, and they took the rest out to B-2a.”

“It’s a moon?” asked Cloutier.

“It’s a moon prison. Everyone dies there who goes there.”

“So what would they do with Claypool?” asked Elan Klee.

“Public execution for sure,” Carin Ringstrom replied. “They did it to Herrik and he got a 90% rating on the video. She’d get a 95%. They need to show everyone that the last of the Ruling Ringstroms is dead.”

“And I’m the last,” said Claypool.

“So then what,” asked Silverfleet, “are they going to blow up the asteroid to get at us?”

“No,” said Claypool, “they’ll send missiles in. They’ll send fighters in. Some of those fighter pilots probably know this asteroid pretty well.”

“I’m sure they do,” Carin agreed. “And they have a pretty good supply.”

“So what the heck can do you want us to do?” asked Silverfleet. “I’ll be happy to fight.”

“I’m for trying to talk sense into them,” said Fiona. “It’s ridiculous. After all these years. Suz, why don’t you take off now and go hide in the outer reaches? The rest of us can help fight off the Beastie.”

“You can try and talk to them,” said Claypool. “I won’t. And there’s no use in running.”

“Well, this is completely stupid,” Fiona replied. “It’s so stupid. Do they think you’re really going to do what your cousin Herrik did? Or what they said he did? My goddess. And what about the Thing? Isn’t anyone going to do anything? You guys are from Alcen. Do you want it sucked clean? Hey, I was born on Central. I’m a bleeding Dubliner, for Goddess sake. I’d throw my fighter into one of those little jaws to keep it from eating Dublin.”

“I know, I know,” said Claypool. “I’d throw my life away to get Central off Alcen. But not this way, not this way. Not by having my home world eaten by a monster from another galaxy.”

“So what are we going to do?” asked Dalsandro. “They won’t let us help.”

“Well,” said Fiona, “let’s at least do a recon and see what we’re up against. Okay, Halyn?”

“What? You’re asking me? Sure. Why don’t you Central girls go? I mean, you recently defected Central girls. You might even be able to talk sense into them.”

Fiona, Dalsandro, Selun Ro, Cera Celaren and Carin Ringstrom took off, and an hour and a half later they were back. “That fleet,” said Fiona. “They’re serious.”

“Where are they?” asked Silverfleet.

“They’re more than halfway. They got up to 20%, but now they’re decelerating. We sent a message asking them what they wanted, and suggesting they could use our help.”

“No reply?”

“Oh, they replied. They told us we’d all have to return to the mining base and wait for them to arrive to inspect us. They mentioned the need to check us for threats to Alcen.”

“Threats to Alcen?” Claypool repeated. “What about the Crystal Thing?”

“And how did they know you were with us?” asked Fiona. “No one else came from Midday. Admiral Kenney’s not due for another week.”

“It’s your ship, isn’t it?” asked Silverfleet.

“Yes,” said Claypool. “Renna, I call her. That’s her secret name.” She sighed. “It’s the only fighter left that was built on Alcen under the old regime. They threw out the old design. They called the old ones G220a’s: A for Alcen, I guess. Renna is the last G220a. There isn’t another one like her.”

“So you’re sentimental?” asked Fiona.

“Yes, and also identifiable.”

“Oh. Oh. Oh, of course. We all were told to look out for such and such a make of fighter. Of course. How could I be so stupid? I just thought you were an escaped criminal.”

“So they know you’re here,” said Dalsandro.

“And the Alcen White Hand Council is very sensitive,” said Carin Ringstrom. “They’re the same seven men that led the rebellion what, seventeen years ago.”

“So,” Fiona went on, “they’re going to tell their local starfleet to make sure that there are no G220a’s left.”

“No,” Claypool replied. “They’re going to want to capture me and try me in public. A pile of ashes in space isn’t good enough. But if they can catch us in here, they can disable my fighter and catch me.”

“Then we have to get away from here as fast as possible,” said Conna. “They’re already on the doorstep, it seems.”

“But they’re over 5% of lightspeed right now,” said Dalsandro. “If we go out and try to run, they’ll easily catch up with us. They may not be able to capture Claypool, but they’ll shoot up as many of the rest of us as they can, and follow her to wherever. They have enough to way outnumber us and still leave three fourths of their fleet to deal with the Thing.”

“This is what bothers me,” put in Fiona. “What are we all here to do? Isn’t anyone interested in stopping the Beastie? I mean, we came here because of it, and presumably Central assembled this big fleet because of it—”

“But if they think assembling a big fleet will help them fight it,” said Elan Klee, “then they haven’t been paying attention.”

“Okay,” Silverfleet cut in, “we can’t stay here, and we can’t run away from them. And they outnumber us even more than they usually do. And then there’s the Thing—we have to stop it, and the local fleet doesn’t know how and won’t listen to our information. That only leaves one course.”

An hour later, thirteen fighters had assembled at the entrance to the mineshafts, facing out into the darkness at the edge of the system. They could see the star of Midday, a medium-bright gleam in the crowded star field. “It’s 20/10,” called Silverfleet. “We probably have fifteen or twenty days until the Crystal Beastie arrives. If we hurry, we can get to Central and back by then.”

“It’s a long shot,” said Fiona.

“But it’s the only thing we can do. We don’t want to spend all our effort fighting a bunch of Central’s common fighters. We can’t do any more good on Alcen, not with the biggest fleet ever assembled gearing up to fight little us. Let’s leave them facing the Thing. Who knows, maybe a really big fleet is just what’s needed. Or they may finally satisfy its appetite.”

“They’ll concentrate on Claypool,” said Elan Klee. “They’ll still be able to get in our way, get one shot as we go by.”

“Yes,” replied Silverfleet. “They’ll try and take out her drive without blowing her up. It’s a long shot, especially with the course we’re taking, but even if we’re doing 10%, if she goes dead in space they can send a cruiser after her to winch her in.”

“I’d blow myself up first,” said Claypool.

“I don’t guess they’ll think of that,” said Fiona. “White Hand types don’t do that, Admiral Thespus notwithstanding. So if you do get winched into their cruiser, you can take them out too.”

“Happy thought,” said Silverfleet. “Let’s just protect Suzane at all cost.”

“Commander,” Carin Ringstrom cut in, “may I have the honor of taking the point?”

“We all have that honor,” said Silverfleet. “There’s no point in splitting up, since they’ll concentrate on Claypool. We’ll try and swing around them, but they should still be able to get one shot at us. Fiona and I and Del and Elan will take the point—we’ll be the hammer. Then you four from Fiona’s wing, right in front of Suzane. Then Jana, Conna, Meena, Vya in a square right behind her—you’ll shoot forward just as we make contact, so anyone who’s zeroed in on Suz gets five fighters instead of one. Any questions?”

“Just one,” said Elan. “What if they get what they want, knock out her drive?”

“Then,” said Silverfleet, “we stay with her and pound them till they bleed whenever they come near. I’d bet before they can get her into some cruiser’s bay, the Beast will arrive to remind them of their true priorities. Clear?”

“Clear,” came several voices from the comm.

“Conna, is Helga ready?”

“She’s taking a nice long nap, Commander.”

“Then let’s go.” In a moment, the thirteen fighters pulled out from the hole and accelerated into the star field at a 120 times the force of gravity on Central.

They took off at a right angle to the oncoming fleet, whose three dozen fighters were well out in front and making ten percent of lightspeed. The Central fighters began a laborious turn to cut off the escaping enemy, but Silverfleet replied with a wide turn toward them, toward Alcen, toward Central beyond. In another three hours, the Central fighters were braking hard to keep from overshooting, and putting what thrust was left over into adjusting to meet their foe. As the thirteen headed for the thirty-six at more than 10% of lightspeed, they drew together into a box around Claypool, while their Central counterparts were still hurrying to get in the right trajectory.

Then Silverfleet and company hit them like a meteorite in a lake.

The first half dozen were madly evading, but Silverfleet and Fiona each took out two with surgical shots to the command node, Cloutier disabled one and Klee left a nice little explosion behind her. The next two dozen fighters pulled in close like schooling fish, and only five more went down against the fire of the front four.

As they passed into the range of Fiona’s wing, they went over to the attack. Selun Ro’s fighter went dead in space, and then Cera Celaren, after disabling her first target, traded death blows with the next, and they made tiny bright lights for a moment in the night. Dalsandro and Ringstrom held their own, despite vicious fire from seventeen enemy fighters. They took out three more, and then they were past and it was Claypool’s turn.

Jana Crown, Vya de Har, Meena Melville and Conna Marais shot forward and the first five fighters against Claypool fired wildly in surprise and flew by. A shot took out Vya’s thrust, another forced Meena to part ways with her disintegrating ship, and Conna and Jana took heavy shell damage while taking out one enemy each. More fighters took passing shots and fled.

But six Central fighters came in on Suzane Claypool at point-blank range. They had divided her target among themselves, and their attack was coordinated by their computers in such a way that it was supposed to be impossible for her to get past them unscathed. Then there was an explosion, and another, and another. With a twitch of her maneuver, Claypool dodged out the now-clear left side of the attack. She was past, heading for Proxima Centauri’s sick orange glow at 10% of lightspeed.

“Okay, damage,” said Silverfleet.

“Cera’s dead,” said Dalsandro.

“She served with me for ten years,” said Fiona. “She was a good pilot, and she was the most competent officer I ever worked with. Well, she was born on Siri, but her ashes will remain in Alcen. We also have some ships out?”

“Ro’s down,” said Dalsandro, “and so are Melville and de Har.”

“Go on without us,” called Vya. “We’ll take a nap. I can see Meena giving thumbs up.”

“Yeah, forget about us,” added Ro. “I could use some sleep after all this excitement.”

“We’re coming back,” said Silverfleet. “If they come out and pick you up, tell them we blackmailed you into helping us.”

“I’ll tell them the truth,” said Ro. “We were confused. For some reason we thought the idea was to beat the Crystal Thing.”

“Good,” replied Silverfleet. “And if we’re going to do it, we’re going to need something more than we’ve got right now. We’re running out of places to look—but maybe we can find it on Central.”

“Long shot,” said Cloutier. “But we gotta try.”

“So, you guys going to be okay?” asked Fiona.

“Life support’s fine,”said Selun Ro.

“Me too,” said Vya. “And Meena’s giving thumb’s up again.”

“Sure she isn’t frozen that way?” asked Elan Klee.

“I’m fine, just fine,” came Meena Melville’s voice, on a scratchy patch from her vac suit comm. “I’ve never gone thirty thousand kilometers a second in just a suit. My life support’s fine. Yes, I have sleep mode. Just don’t leave me out here.”

“Don’t worry,” said Silverfleet, “we’ll be back. Even if it’s a wasted trip, we’ll be back. Listen, Fiona, what do you think? Maybe we should leave a few people here to watch over these three.”

“I think it’s a good idea,” said Claypool, “but I don’t volunteer.”

“You’d rather go to Central?” asked Cloutier.

“I concur,” said Fiona. “Carin—are you okay with it?”

“Of course,” said Carin Ringstrom. “You want us to stand guard over them?”

“Don’t risk your life,” said Silverfleet. “Even the Alcen White Hand isn’t likely to kill marooned pilots. At least not ones unrelated to the old ruling family. How about Conna—and Jana?”

“Sure,” said Conna. “We’ll try and latch onto them and slow them down.”

“I guess,” said Jana Crown.

“You’ll be in plenty of danger here, Crown,” Silverfleet assured her. “We’ll be back in what, half a month?

“Just in time to see the Beastie arrive, I’m sure,” said Fiona. “Well, take care of yourselves. Have a nice sleep and we’ll come collect you in a couple of weeks.”

And as the Central starfleet scrambled to reunite and nine fighters went to lightspeed in the direction of Central, a strange beast turned from its latest meal and continued on its journey, slouching toward Bethlehem.

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