Rissa had never killed before, had never even deliberately injured before, had The Rout of Tau Ceti.

She swung the handles that aimed the laser, and leaned on the triggers.

PHANTOM wasn't here to animate in the beam for her, and the Waldahudin battleship was too far away for her to see the red dot moving across its hull — Moving across its thruster fuel storage tanks — Ripping them open — Igniting the fuel — And then — A ball of light, like a supernova-The bow window going completely black — Longbottle arching in his tank, moving the Rum Runner away from the expanding sphere of debris.

Rissa took her hands off the triggers. The window grew clear again.

She was shaking from head to foot. How many Waldahudin had been aboard a ship that size? A hundred? A thousand? If they'd planned to actually move on to Sol system and storm Earth and Mars and Luna, perhaps as many as ten thousand soldiers — All dead.

Dead.

There were other Waldahudin ships in the area, but they were tiny one-person fighter craft. The big black vessel must have been their mothership.

Rissa exhaled noisily.

"You acted well," said Longbottle gently. "You did what you had to."

She said nothing.

The UN ships were banking now — New Beijing was a human-dolphin colony — and coming in to attack the small Waldahud fighters. The Rum Runner buffeted slightly as it passed through the cloud of expelled atmosphere from the destroyed battleship.

Rissa's console beeped. She looked at the glowing red indicator, like a drop of blood, but did not move. Longbottle eyed her for a moment, then nosed the similar control in his tank. A woman's voice came over the speakers. "This is Liv Amundsen, commander of the United Nations police forces at Tan Ceti, to Starplex auxiliary craft." Rissa glanced at her monitors. Amundsen's ship was still three light-minutes away; no point in trying a real-time conversation. "We have identified your transponder signal. Thank you for your timely arrival. Our casualties are heavy — over two hundred dead — but you've saved New Beijing. You can bet they'll pin a medal on your chest, whoever you are aboard that ship.

Over."

A medal, thought Rissa. Jesus Christ, they give medals.

"Rissa?" said Longbottle. "Do you want me — ?"

Rissa shook her head. "No. No, I'll do it." She tapped a key. "This is Dr. Clarissa Cervantes aboard the Rum Runner; I'm here with a dolphin pilot named Longbottle.

Starplex was also attacked by Waldahud forces; it headed through the shortcut network to destination unknown, but may require emergency drydock facilities. Can you accommodate?"

She watched the stars drift by as she waited for her signal to reach Amundsen's ship, and the reply to make its way back. The Waldahud forces were repelled at Tau Ceti, said the history book in her mind.

But what was the next chapter? Two hundred from Earth or its colonies were dead… Dolphins didn't believe in vengeance, but would the humans demand it? Would this be the one skirmish, or were we about to see all-out war?

"Negative, Dr. Cervantes," came Amundsen's voice, at last. "Our dock facilities were the first thing the Waldahudin fired on." Of course, thought Rissa. Pearl Harbor all over again. "Suggest Starplex try the Flatland drydocks — although it should be careful when moving through the shortcut to there. Remember, a G-class subgiant recently emerged from that shortcut. We can, however, offer repair services here for a small ship such as yours."

Rissa looked at her monitors. The battle wasn't quite over. Police ships were still engaging a few Waldahud craft, although some of the invaders seemed to have surrendered, jettisoning their own engine pods.

"We more fuel need," said Longbottle to Rissa. "And thrusters must be allowed to cool — I overworked them badly."

"Fine," said Rissa into her microphone. "We're coming in." She' nodded to Longbottle, and he rotated in his tank, moving the ship.

Rissa's heart was still pounding. She closed her eyes, and tried not to think of what she had done.

"Lianne, damage report!" snapped Keith.

"I'm still tabulating everything from the battle, but there were no new problems caused by the high-speed shortcut passage."

"What about casualties?"

Lianne tilted her head, listening to reports over her audio implant.

"No deaths. Lots of bone fractures, though. Couple of concussions.

Nothing too serious. And Jessica Fong got out of docking bay sixteen all right, although she has a broken hip and arm, and a lot of bruising."

Keith nodded and breathed a sigh of relief. He looked around the hole bubble, trying to make out detail in the faint smudges of white against black infinity. "God," he said under his breath.

"All the gods," replied Jag, softly, "are a very, very long way from here."

Thor turned around and looked at Jag. "It is intergalactic space, isn't it."

Jag lifted his upper shoulders in agreement.

"But— but I've never heard of any shortcut exit this far of Thseaid Lianne."

"Shortcuts have only existed for a finite time," said Jag. "Even hyperspace signals from one in intergalactic space might not have reached any of the Commonwealth worlds yet."

"But how can there be a shortcut in intergalactic space?" asked Thor. "What's it anchored to?"

"That's a very good question," said Jag, bending his head down to look at his instruments. "Ah — there it is. Check your hyperspace scanner, Magnor. There's a large black hole about six light-hours from here."

Thor let out a low whistle. "Adjusting course. Let's give it a wide berth."

"Are we in any danger from it?" asked Keith.

"Not much, boss — unless I fall asleep at the wheel."

Jag touched some controls, and a framed-off area appeared in the holo bubble. But the space inside the frame was just as empty and black as the space outside it.

"Normally you can see the accretion disk around a black hole," said Jag, "but there's nothing out here to be pulled into it." He paused.

"My guess is that it's an ancient black hole — it would have needed billions of years to get out here. I suspect it's the remains of a binary star system. When the larger component went supernova, it could have caused an asymmetric 'kick which propelled the resulting black hole out of its home galaxy."

"But what would have activated this shortcut?" asked Lianne.

Jag lifted all four shoulders. "The hole would pull in any matter that wanders by. Something that was being sucked in by it probably fell through the shortcut instead." Jag tried to sound jaunty, but it was clear even he was staggered by it all. "We're actually pretty lucky — shortcuts in intergalactic space are probably as rare as mud without footprints."

Keith turned to Thor. He made an effort to keep his voice calm, controlled. He was the director; no matter how much Starplex usually behaved like a research lab rather than a sailing vessel, he knew all eyes would be on him, looking for strength. "How soon can we go back through the shortcuT' he asked. "How soon can we go get the Rum Runner?"

"We've still got major electrical problems," said Lianne.

"I wouldn't want to move the ship until those are stabilized — and I'll need at least three hours for that."

"Three hours!" said Keith. "But — ' try to cut it down," said Lianne.

"What about sending a probeship through to help Rissa and Longbottle?" asked Keith.

The room was silent for a moment. Rhombus rolled over to the command workstation, and touched Keith's forearm lightly with one of his manipulator ropes. "My friend," he said, PHANTOM translating the low intensity of his lights as whispering, "you can't do that. You can't put another ship in danger."

I'm the director, thought Keith. I can do what I damn well please. He shook his head, trying to get control. If anything had happened to Rissa…