“I think we should strike at the enemy,” he said. “I think we should do something worthy of the traditions of the Service.”

“Such as?” Warrant Officer/Second Gruust was skeptical.

Severin offered Gruust a bite of the spicy garlic sausage he’d been snacking on when the message came.

“I think we should move the wormhole,” he said.

Part of the task of the wormhole station was to keep the wormhole stable. Wormholes could be destabilized over time if more mass went in one direction through the hole than the other, a problem that hardly existed when all that passed through them was solar wind and the odd bit of cosmic dust. Ships, however, were another problem. If more ships passed through the wormhole in one direction, then the wormhole could deform, drift away, or even collapse.

Fortunately for the stability of the empire, the remedy was simple: you simply had to chuck enough matter in the other direction to reestablish balance. Each wormhole station was equipped with a mass driver that could fire colossal steel-jacketed chunks of asteroid material through the hole and into orbit around the other system’s star, where they could be retrieved if necessary and fired the other way. The projectiles were so massive that the driver didn’t move them very fast, but speed was hardly necessary—only a degree of timing was required, so that a ship heading for the wormhole didn’t meet a rock going the other way.

“Move the wormhole?” Gruust asked. “Can we do that?”

“I expect we can.”

Gruust chewed meditatively on garlic sausage. “That would really wreck their schedule. They miss the wormhole, there aren’t any planets out there to swing around. It would take them months to decelerate and return.”

Severin was already on to the next step. “Why don’t you and the others get the lifeboat packed and I’ll warm up the coils?”

The exams Severin had passed to earn his rank had featured a lot of wormhole theory, and he put it to use now. He began firing his heavy, slow-moving bowling balls toward the great torus, and only then started calculating where they would have to hit in order to skate the wormhole across the sky. He figured the first few shots would destabilize the wormhole only slightly and make the rest of his task easier.

Once he had his effects calculated and knew where to aim, he began a regular barrage, firing one bolt after another. Only then did he communicate with his superiors in the Seizho system to ask permission for what he was doing.

It took four hours for the Seizho brass to respond, categorically forbidding Severin to destabilize the wormhole. By then, he’d hurled hundreds of thousands of tons of dense matter through the torus, and had begun to detect motion.

The odor of garlic preceded Gruust into the command center. “Lifeboat’s ready,” he reported. He gazed out the huge plate windows of the mass driver as another giant bolt shot off the rails and toward the eerie, hoop-shaped entity in the far distance.

“Why don’t you look after the drivers for a while,” Severin said. “I want to make sure my personal stuff is on the lifeboat.”

The lifeboat wasn’t as cramped as its name might have suggested: it was designed to keep an entire station’s crew comfortable for the journey to and from the station, a journey that might take a month or more. There was a fully stocked kitchen and exercise facilities, and a library of videos, books, music, and other entertainments.

Severin added a stock of insulated clothing, thermal blankets, and warm socks, then returned to the command center.

“The wormhole’s moving,” Gruust said.

“I know.”

By the time Severin had fired off all his ammunition, the wormhole had moved seven diameters on a diagonal course from the plane of the ecliptic, and the messages from his superiors, who were detecting the huge freight-train-sized bolts flying into their system, were growing frantic. Eventually their messages trailed away: with the wormhole moving, the communications lasers were no longer in alignment.

Severin and his crew had a last meal in the station, noodles in a tomato sauce made fiery by dried chiles, washed down by a dark, toasty beer that one of the crew had made with barley he’d brought onto the station.

The Exploration Service traditionally compensated for their loneliness by eating well.

“You know,” Severin said, “I’m beginning to think we shouldn’t leave the Protipanu system.”

“If we stay here,” Gruust said, “they’ll just take us prisoner.”

“I don’t want to stayhere, ” said Severin. “Not in the station. I thought we’d take the lifeboat and grapple it to one of those big chunks of rubble orbiting past. That way we could keep the enemy under observation, and if the Fleet returns, we can give them the information. And if the rebels leave, we can just reoccupy the station.”

“You’re talkingmonths, ” someone said.

There was some discussion of this. Severin didn’t want to live for three or four months with a crew who resented the orders that put them there. But in the end he had his way, and without pulling rank: the others were used to spending time together in isolated situations, and agreed that wrecking enemy plans was worth the extra discomfort and time.

“It’s going to be cold, unfortunately,” Severin said. “To avoid detection, I’m going to have to power as little of the ship as possible.”

“We should get the thermal blankets aboard,” someone said.

“I already have.”

There was a moment of silence. “Well, at least we’ll have a big pay packet waiting when we return,” Gruust said hopefully.

They moved six months’ food supplies into the lifeboat and cast off. Severin already had chosen his rock, an iron asteroid called 302948745AF—the smaller lumps of rock and metal in the Protipanu system were well charted, since they were all potential supplies of reserve ammunition for the mass drivers.

The Naxid flotilla leaped into the system before the lifeboat actually grappled to its new home, but Severin had anticipated this, and made his major deceleration burn before their arrival. He was now drifting gently toward 302948745AF. He knew he should be able to snuggle tight to the asteroid with just his maneuvering thrusters, and without attracting attention by lighting the antimatter engine.

Floating weightless in the lifeboat’s control station, he watched the tall antimatter torches race toward the wormhole. The Naxids were coming fast, decelerating but still moving at nearly half the speed of light. Severin calculated their trajectories and discovered that they were on course…for where the wormholehad been.

It was perfectly possible for them to find out the wormhole had moved. They could detect it visually or by charting its warp of space-time. But the wormhole had been in the same place since its discovery, and the Naxids had no reason to suspect it might have crabbed away from there.

Still, as the minutes ticked by and the blips raced closer, Severin felt his mouth go dry, and cramp pained his hands as they clamped on the stabilization bars at the control panel. It would require a tiny correction in their course to hit the wormhole, one they might make at any moment…

He held his breath. And the Naxid squadron shot past, a clean miss of the wormhole. The little lifeboat’s crew broke into cheers. Severin could only imagine the consternation in the rebels’ command centers as they realized what had happened to them.

While the Naxids increased the fury of their deceleration burn, Severin knew that he’d delayed their plans, whatever they were, by at least three months, probably a good deal more.

He felt a quiet triumph. He’d done the enemy an injury, done it without having a single weapon to fire at them, and with any luck, he’d be in a position to do them another.

In the days that followed his conversation with Tork, Jarlath and his staff worked endlessly on plans for a Magaria attack, and the harder he contemplated the possibilities, the less possible he found it to resist them.