"What is it?" the Voyagemaster asked.

"Signals of some sort, beamed at us every few aarmis. The natives are trying to communicate."

Lassarr frowned. "Interesting. Any known language?"

"Unfortunately, no. But there's a great deal of information in each pulse. We may have a preliminary translation in a few aarns."

"Good. That'll help us if we need to negotiate for the Dawnsent's repair."

Orofan blinked. "What do you mean? Whether or not we're stopping here is still my decision."

"Not any more. I've reconsidered and have decided this is our best course. Further planetary data is coming in, and it now seems likely that there are one or two planets here we could colonize."

Orofan forced calmness into his voice. "You can't do that, Lassarr. You can't commit us to an uncertain war; certainly not one of conquest. Even if they were primitives—which they're clearly not—we would have no right to take their worlds. This is not honorable—"

"Peace, Shipmaster." Lassarr favored him with a hard, speculative glare. "You protest far too much. Tell me, if the Dawnsent didn't need to be cannibalized for the required fuel mass, would you be nearly as opposed to stopping here?"

"Your insinuations are slanderous," Orofan said stiffly. "The ship is my responsibility, yes, but I've not been blinded to all else. My overall duty is still to the Sk'cee in our sleep tanks."

"I'm sure you believe that," Lassarr said, more gently. "But I can't afford to. The very nature of your training makes your judgment suspect in a case like this. The decision has been made. I've instructed the library to catalog nonessential equipment; disassembly will begin in two aarns."

"You can't do this," Orofan whispered.

"I can," the Voyagemaster said calmly, "and I have."

Trembling with emotion, Orofan turned and fled from the bridge.

—

"That's the last of them," Goode reported from his position at the Origami's helm. He sounded tired.

Chandra nodded, several neck muscles twinging with the action. Two days of two-gee deceleration wasn't enough to incapacitate anyone, but it was more than enough to be a nuisance, and she was glad it was almost over. "That was what, the engineering crew?"

"Right—four lifeboats full. We're all alone, Captain."

She smiled tightly. "Fun, isn't it? Okay. Chaser Twelve just checked in; the Intruder's still on course. Our ETA on his path is four hours?"

"Just under. Three fifty-seven thirty."

She did a quick calculation. "Gives us a whole six minutes to spare. Tight."

Goode shrugged. "I would've been perfectly happy to take the whole trip at two gees and get here a day earlier. But creating fuel isn't one of my talents."

"I'll suggest a tachship tanker fleet to Dad when we get home," Chandra said dryly. "Okay. Number 81 should be our last boat. Fifteen minutes before we arrive I want you to go down and prep it. We'll want to cut out the minute the Origami's in position."

"Roger."

Conversation lapsed. It felt strange, Chandra thought, to be deliberately running towards a collision: strange and frightening. It brought her back to her first driving lessons, to her father's warnings that she was never, never to race a monorail to a crossing. He'd hammered the point home by showing her pictures of cars that had lost such contests, and even now she shuddered at the memory of those horrible tangles.

And it was her father himself who had authorized this. She wondered how he was feeling right now. Worse than she was, probably.

Strange how, in the pictures, the monorail never seemed particularly damaged. Would it be that way this time too? She had no desire to kill any of the aliens aboard that ship if it could be avoided. This mess wasn't really their fault.

Six minutes.... She hoped like hell the Intruder hadn't changed course.

—

Captain Mahendra's hands rested lightly on the Situation Room's communications board, showing no sign whatsoever of tension. General Carey watched those hands in fascination, wondering at the man's self-control. But, then, Mahendra didn't have a daughter out there racing the ultimate monorail to its mathematical crossing.

Mahendra turned from the board, taking off his headphone, and Carey shifted his gaze to the captain's face. "Well?"

"Chaser Six reports both the Intruder and the Origami still on course. Chasers Eight through Thirteen are still picking up lifeboats. Almost all the passengers are back; about three-quarters of the crew are still out there."

Carey nodded. "How long will the Origami have before impact?"

"From now, three hours twenty minutes. Once in place, about six minutes."

Carey hissed softly between his teeth. "Pretty slim margin."

Mahendra frowned. "Should be enough, General. Those boats can handle two gees for ten minutes or so before running their tanks. Even if you allow them three minutes for launching, they can get—oh, three hundred kilometers out before impact. That should be a relatively safe distance."

"I suppose so."

"You seem doubtful," a new voice cut in from behind him. Carey turned to discover Du Bailey had come up, unnoticed, and was standing at his shoulder.

"I'm concerned about those still aboard that ship," the general growled. "They're civilians and shouldn't have to go through this."

"I agree." Du Bellay paused. "I, uh, looked up the Origami's registry data. The captain is listed as a Chandra Carey."

He stopped without asking the obvious question. Carey answered it anyway. "She's my daughter."

"Your daughter, sir?" Mahendra asked, eyes widening momentarily. "I'm sorry; I didn't know." His fingers danced over keys; numbers appeared on his screen. "Sir, we could pull a tachship off of the Intruder's path and have it waiting to pick up Captain Carey when the Origami reaches position."

"No. We've only got three tachships left on chaser duty and I'd rather leave them there. Chandra's good, and I know she thinks highly of her crew. The best thing we can do for them is to keep feeding them good data on the Intruder's course."

"What about sending one of the tachships that's on lifeboat-pickup duty?" Du Bellay suggested.

"Those boats don't carry all that much food and air," Carey said, shaking his head. "The Origami dropped a lot of boats, and some of them are getting close to the wire. Tachships can't carry more than a single lifeboat at a time, and with all civilian craft officially barred from the area we're going to have enough trouble picking up everyone as it is." Both men still looked disturbed, so Carey flashed what he hoped was a reassuring smile. "Don't worry, Chandra can take care of herself. Captain, what's the status of our attempts at communication?"

Du Bellay drifted off as, almost reluctantly, Mahendra turned back to his board. His hands, Carey noted, didn't look nearly as relaxed as before.

—

The door opened, and Orofan paused on the threshold for a moment before stepping onto the bridge. Lassarr glanced up from the console where he and Pliij were working. "Yes, what is it?" the Voyagemaster growled.

"I'm asking you once more to reconsider," Orofan said. His voice was firm, devoid of all emotion.

Lassarr evidently missed the implications of that. "It's too late. Disassembly has begun; our new course is plotted."

"But not yet executed," Orofan pointed out. "And equipment can be reassembled. This path is not honorable, Voyagemaster."

Deliberately, Lassarr turned his back on the Shipmaster. "Prepare to execute the course change," he instructed Pliij.

"You leave me no alternative," Orofan sighed.

Lassarr spun around—and froze, holding very tightly to the console, his eyes goggling at the assault gun nestled in Orofan's tentacle. "Have you gone insane, Shipmaster?"