In the end, that was the only thing that counted.

"The Terrans have withdrawn, then, Melek?" Thrakhath was lounging on his throne, feeling satisfied. A pair of destroyers had been lost along with a few fighters, and he intended to see to it that whoever was responsible for the losses paid the supreme penalty. But overall, everything went exactly as planned. The apes had been given a warning they would not soon forget. It would make them cautious for a time, and even if they realized that the Empire's ability to mask jump points was limited to nebulas they would surely shun this system, so the base where the Imperial Fleet would gather for Thrakhath's grand stroke would remain secure.

Now it was time to think of the next stage in the plan.

"Yes, Lord Prince," Melek said. "They have withdrawn into the Delius System. Of course, there is no way of telling how long they will remain . . ."

"Then we must act quickly, before they move on," Thrakhath told him, pounding the arm of his throne to emphasize the point. "Is it certain that the one called Blair is still assigned to the carrier?"

"Yes, Lord Prince," Melek acknowledged. "We monitored his voice on the comm channels during the fight, a perfect match to our files. He is the wing commander. According to recent intelligence, the renegade serves as his deputy."

"Excellent," Thrakhath said, showing his fangs for an instant. "Perhaps it is best that the human escaped our earlier attacks. We have the perfect weapon to use against him, and the results will leave these apes demoralized just when our blow is about to fall."

"You think, then, that the challenge will work, on a human? Their sense of honor is not the same as ours Lord Prince." Melek bowed low, to show that he did not mean to doubt his Lord's judgment.

"Oh, this challenge will work, I think," Thrakhath said quietly. "They do not have honor, Melek, but they do have pride . . . and anger. We will goad this ape into a foolish gesture, and at the same time . . ."

"The Trigger," Melek said.

"The Trigger. And we will have our claws at their throats once and for all." Thrakhath straightened. Pass the orders, Melek. Assemble the designated task force and be ready to jump within a cycle."

"Yes, Lord Prince." Melek withdrew, bowing again.

Crown Prince Thrakhath contemplated the stars that blazed through the dome above his dais. The stars that would soon belong entirely to the Empire.

"Reporting as ordered, sir."

"Come in, Lieutenant," Blair said, gesturing to the chair in front of his desk. "Sit down."

Flint settled into the seat, her eyes holding a look somewhere between hope and wariness. "Thank you, sir," she said. "Ah . . . those were some good moves you guys put on yesterday, Colonel. Although I couldn't really tell everything that was going on . . . from Flight Control."

He smiled. "You don't need to drop hints, Lieutenant. I know it's been difficult for you, sitting on the sidelines."

"It's just . . . Look, sir, it just isn't the same, flying a console aboard ship. I belong in the cockpit. That's all there is to it. If you can't put me there, then transfer me to a unit where I can get a fresh start."

"You're pretty blunt, Lieutenant," he said. "Let me be the same. If I don't put you back on the flight roster here, it'll be because I have a problem with you flying. So you can be damned sure my report in your file would reflect my doubts. Don't think a transfer is going to get you back in the cockpit just because I'm not your CO any longer."

Her look was bleak, bitter. "I lost it, back at Locanda. I admit it. But I don t think that mistake should hang over me forever, Colonel. Watching those bastards slip past us, knowing they were going to spread their plague on my home that was more than I could handle. But it isn't likely to come up again." She managed a crooked smile.

"The stakes are less . . . personal, now. Is that it?" He kept his own tone serious.

"I guess so, sir," she said. "I hate to admit it. I mean, when I took my oath it was to the Confederation, not to any one planet. But Locanda was so much more real to me, when it went down. I could see it, in my mind: the places, the people. It made a difference."

"If it didn't, you wouldn't be human," he said. Blair studied her for a moment. She seemed too small, too fragile to be a combat pilot. "The problem is, you made me a promise once before, and you didn't keep it. Do you want to get back in that cockpit bad enough to follow through this time?"

"I can't prove that unless you give me the chance, Colonel," she said. "When I'm out there with that bird strapped around me and a cat in my sights . . . that's the only time I really feel alive."

Blair nodded sadly. He remembered Angel saying something like that once, back on the Tiger's Claw. I knew . . . I know someone who felt the same way. She lived to fight 'the good fight,' as she called it."

"For me, it's the flying," Flint told him. "I love the purity . . . nothing holding me back. Knowing I'm in complete control, for better or worse."

"Yeah," Blair said, nodding again. "Yeah, only a pilot knows that feeling."

"Well, Colonel, if you understand how I feel, then you have to know what I'm going through now. I wasn't designed for cheerleading from the sidelines, or playing traffic director in Flight Control. I'm requesting reassignment to flight status." She paused. "Please. . ."

"I don't usually give third chances, Lieutenant," he said slowly "But we could have used you out there yesterday. Next time we'll need you even more. You're back on the roster, effective immediately, Flint."

"Thank you, sir. . ."

He held up a hand. "But if you screw up again . . . heaven help you. Because I won t."

"Understood, Colonel." She stood up. "This time you won't regret it."

A jagged, irregular chunk of rock eighteen kilometers across dominated the view from the rec room. A few moving lights marked the passage of shuttles and service pods back and forth between carrier and asteroid. In the three hours since Victory matched orbits with Delius Station, a thorough inspection of the ship's hull and external fittings had already been completed, and the captain had authorized liberty for the off-duty watch. There weren't as many takers as might be expected — Delius Station was reputed to be one of the most boring stopovers in the sector — but there was a definite easing of tensions on board at the realization that they really were back in friendly territory at last.

Blair sat alone at a table, sipping his scotch and gazing at the planetoid and the star field beyond. In one corner of the room, Vaquero was softly strumming his old guitar, a quiet, mournful sound. Lieutenant Lopez had been certified fit for flight duty by the ship's Medical Officer the day before, and Blair restored him to the roster. But he still wondered if Lopez was fully recovered from the battering he had taken in the first clash in the nebula.

He heard Maniac Marshall call a greeting as he entered the rec room, and half-turned in his chair to watch the major at the bar. Marshall was his usual self, boisterous self-assured, wearing a broad smile as he took his drink from Rostov and waved an airy greeting to Flint and Cobra, who were sitting together at a nearby table.