"Because I directed him to appear, General!" Jook growled darkly.

"Yes," Gorruk sneered. "Only remember your solemn vows to—"

"General Gorruk!" Jook roared, bolting upright. "Remind me not of the Vows of Protection! We shall never be surprised again!" "You! Scientist!" Gorruk shouted, adroitly changing the point of attack. Gorruk, a behemoth among behemoths, always attacked. "Yes, great general," Moth said tremulously.

"How?" Gorruk asked, hot poison in his voice. "How is it that our enemies fly to our solar system at will, and we are unable to leave? They have come again, penetrated our planetary system, from somewhere, somewhere out in the deep universe. They bridge the distances. Why is that? What physics do they have that we do not?"

Moth remained silent, too frightened to speak.

"Speak you, worm!" General Gorruk screamed at the prostrate figure.

Moth raised his face. "I beg mercy, General. I am but an astronomer. It is not for me to speak about things I know not."

"General Gorruk!" Jook commanded. "Return to your court station. You are aggravatingly correct. We will never again permit alien battle forces to attack first. But that is not the issue." The ruler glared down at his general officer. Gorruk stood tall, immobile, resolute.

"Kneel, Gorruk!" Jook bellowed, veins bulging across temples and thick neck, brow tufts fanning apart. "These are my chambers. Down, Gorruk. Now!" A harbinger of doom, the sour odor of imperial anger wafted across the court. The palace guard shifted nervously. Hulking forms, blasters ready, moved inward from shadowed alcoves.

Gorruk, in slow motion, momentarily leaned his bulk onto callused hands and padded forearms in subservience, his own anger-scent commingling dangerously with that of the emperor. Rising from the bow, and remaining naturally on all fours, he marched back to his position.

Air circulators hummed into high-volume mode.

"With utmost respect, Great Leader," interjected another court official, a slighter figure robed in brilliant, black-trimmed white. It was the delicate, golden-skinned noblekone, Et Kalass, Minister of Internal Affairs, standing easily to his hinds. "I must agree with our courageous commanding general," he said, his voice soothing and calm. "The aliens, regardless of intent, have been repulsed. Let us focus on the all too familiar problems of government."

The minister signaled with a languid wave. Moth felt a slight tug on his cloak and then a sharper one. The scientist turned to see an attendant of the chamber motioning for him to follow, which he gladly did, crawling on all fours, as even the exalted general had finally done. Clear of the chambers, the blue-liveried attendant turned and addressed Moth with condescension. "Minister Et Kalass is interested. You will be contacted on the morrow."

Moth watched the attendant lumber away, his gravity-distended belly dusting the floor. The scientist was awestruck to be in the imperial palace, but he was even more anxious to return to his normal milieu. A crawling lackey provided escort down the crystal hall and through the low-domed, thickly columned rotunda,where a pantheon of prior emperor-generals, many removed from power in small pieces, stared down with malevolent glares from gilded frames. A bronze of Jook I stood atop a pedestal in the center of the sunburst emblazoned chamber floor.

They passed security positions, weaving through magnetic field detectors, chemical sniffers, and ultra-sonic inspection cages, where heavily armed guards monitored information consoles. Once through the rotunda his escort departed, and Moth continued on all fours through the heavily buttressed entryway and down the parade ramp. He crossed Imperial Square, circumventing the gardens, and trundled out the intensely guarded front gate, joining the murmuring crowds of crawling kones moving thickly along the cracked sidewalks of the wide avenue. Work shifts were changing, and the faces of the milling workers and laborers—trods—ranged from sullen to stoic. Moth was relieved to be out of the tense environment, even if it meant having to mingle with mobs of tight-jawed proles.

It was an unusual day, cloudless, the air clearer than usual. Even the smooth hills rimming the capital to the south and west were visible—if just barely—adding vertical dimension to the squat skyline of the capital. An adobe-colored ocean to the northeast disappeared into thick smog, revealing no horizons. Overhead a haze ring encircled the low mid-day sun, the sky a peaceful cream color with tints of yellow and rust. Victory Tower, five times higher than any other municipal structure, jutted dimly into the sky, a vague stiletto pointing at the bright bull's-eye of the sun.

Very pretty, thought Moth, ambling along at an uneasy canter, jostled frequently by the passing multitudes. He made a direct path to the transit tube and stood in line at the identification gates. It took only fifteen minutes to get onto the boarding platforms—over half the gates were working. It took twice that long to catch a car; the first two trains to pass were appropriated by the Public Safety Militia and did not stop, their long cars whisking through the station, helmets and weapons discernible in the blurring movement.

An hour later he debarked at an outpost where the station master recognized him and called for transportation. Minutes later Director Moth trotted through the main entrance of the Imperial Astronomical Institute and was once again an important kone.

"I hope it went well, Director," said Scientist Dowornobb, his prodigious and brilliant young assistant, an astrophysicist as well as an accomplished astronomer. Together they crawled toward the administrative offices, passing the commodious operations center. Director Moth noted with satisfaction the programmers gawking as he went by. Some of the females were so brazen as to lift their eyes. He would have to crack down on such behavior, but for now he enjoyed the rare fame associated with being called before the Supreme Leader—and living to tell about it.

"Quite well," Moth replied arrogantly. "Have you finished the trajectory mapping? I am told we may have to provide additional information as soon as tomorrow." The director crawled into his suite of offices, going to the terminal to read his mail. Dowornobb followed, making silly faces.

"The mapping is finished, Director, but the results are indeterminate," Dowornobb answered, recoiling in mock anticipation of his master's anger.

"Indeterminate? Indeterminate!" Moth shouted, glaring at the clowning assistant. "Why indeterminate? Pay attention. Say something!"

"Yes, Director," Dowornobb raised downcast eyes and irreverently looked skyward. "The largest alien ships just, eh…disappeared. Gone. Magic. Indeterminate. Poof! There is no evidence that any were destroyed or even damaged, though our interceptors engaged within lethal range. They just vanished—the large contacts, that is." Dowornobb moved to a terminal. Dowornobb was a genius. His lack of manners and insensitivity to decorum were usually overlooked.

"We were able to track one small contact after the disappearance of the primary units." Absorbed in his data, Dowornobb dropped all deference to Director Moth. "The aliens apparently left one functioning ship behind. This corresponds to the military debriefs." He stared at a report, all but ignoring the director.

"And…?" Moth asked impatiently. "And?"

"Huh… oh," Dowornobb looked up. "All engagements have outcomes, but one."

"And…?" Moth struggled to contain himself. His theories, such as they were, came from Dowornobb's analysis. Moth was dependent upon his assistant, particularly now that the emperor was interested.

"Some of our ships never came back…" Dowornobb started.

"I know that! Many were never intended to return. They were ordered to intercept quickly, beyond operational ranges at peak intercept speeds. We knew some would run out of fuel. They blew themselves up rather than be captured." Moth was not supposed to reveal that.