The TML PBeM

1993, Turn 0 - Part 1 (of 7)

PROLOGUE

Turnskaad Enterprises Research Compound, DownPort City, Idiilar, Tuvir, Reaver's Deep, 0058 006-1120

Bhyarrvouf sat at the empty table, staring at nothing. Slowly, he rolled the half-empty glass of sapphire-blue liquor between his hands, and occasionally lifted it to his muzzle for a tiny lap. The bottle on the table was nearly empty. His eyes were elsewhere, seeing other places, hearing other voices, his own mind providing a merciless narration for it all. One hand reached out and listlessly punched the PAUSE button off on the voice recorder on the table, setting it moving again. 'Vouf's voice was a painful, cracked moan.

"On 124-1112, in the Haghbhrourrghz system in the Antares Pact, the Kharaengzough corsairs ambushed and scuttled the Bokhutokh Lines flagship Bovakr, slaughtering the crew to the last Vargr. I was the Bovakr's Captain; I watched my crew die defending me, and was denied the cold comfort of being allowed to die with them. Over the years that followed, I never thought I could fall any lower than that."

"Now...." He took another drink.

"Now I know better. There are worse things than death. There are things like betrayal, and bureaucracy, and politics, and watching one's dreams slip irrevocably away and knowing--KNOWING!-- that one will never get a chance again. At least the Bovakr's crew DIED. Here, I have to watch the crew of the Alcyon die every day, and know that we'll all go on dying for the rest of eternity...."

His voice drifted off, his eyes glazed. The machine ran on, recording silence....

Bhyarrvouf finished up the last words of the briefing. "Now, then, are there any que--"

The Alcyon lurched suddenly, and he fell heavily to one knee. The other listeners in the Sickbay were similarly staggered, except for Hur'Shurvan, whose instinctively splayed feet stabilized him. The intercom system erupted with competing messages.

<< 'Vouf, this is the Armory! We have a red light on the secondary weapons locker-- that antique Gauss pistol Mahlel brought in is GONE! >>

<< Jump Drive Deck-- that chunk of bedrock just vanished into thin air, like POP! Can you BELIEVE that?! >>

Bhyarrvouf was staring at the empty cot where a moment ago Darrow Greyson had been listening to the Briefing. "Yes," he whispered.

<< Subcommander, this is the Bridge. >> Nishu's voice was ghastly. << You'd better get up here. >>

Bhyarrvouf was already running, trying hard not to hear what Morser's voice was screaming in the Sensor Suite.

"Reports, please." Bhyarrvouf's voice was ragged.

"Telemetry has been crosschecked with the Trakh, sir," Nishu whispered. "As if the wreckage of the Solomani fleet weren't enough to answer our question for us. This is the same system, all right. We haven't moved more than a kilometer from where we were first grabbed."

"Then where's the Hoop?" Lazer's voice was agonized. "What happened to the Goddamned RINGWORLD? Those Solomani bastards--!"

"Arrrre *NOT* capable ov vaporrrrizink ze entire mass ov ze Khoop, Maychor!" Morser's eyes were wild with lack of sleep and hysteria. "Unt if zey werre capable ov makink STARZ dizappear, I doubt zat ve vould ztill be a frree Imperrium!"

"ENOUGH!" The boardroom echoed with the clang as 'Vouf's metal fist slammed down on the table. "It's GONE, people. It's just--GONE. And it took its star with it, WHEREVER it went. And the inner ring. It took EVERYTHING... except the Solomani ships." His shoulders slumped. "It just LEFT us."

"Sir," Etienne said softly, "We need orders."

"Aenrra?" Christian's voice didn't even register. Vouf began to slump into his chair, his eyes wet.

"It just left us. After all we went through... all those deaths.... it...just...." His voice ground to a halt, like a watch running down. His eyes shut.

"...and I acted on my own authority and in what I determined to be the best interests of the mission at the time. My actions weren't sanctioned by my commander, and I apologize for them."

Akhouw looked at Ralf for a long moment, then nodded. "Ka'tai, Mister Ralf. I accept your apology and understand your loyalty, if not your means. I consider the matter forgotten. SubCommander." With a nod to 'Vouf, the huge Aslan Admiral motioned the two Imperials into the access shaft.

"That completely SUCKED," Ralf gritted under his breath as he floated nimbly down the tube. "Goddamn musty bag of fur! Strung together a bunch of hearsay and random circumstantial--"

"Give it a rest, Ralf," 'Vouf said wearily. "I told you he'd forget about it if you apologized, didn't I? He's as good as his word, so let's US forget about it as well, eh-hrf? We're NEVER going to know how he found out you were spoofing him, and I couldn't stonewall him any longer, not with his honor in the balance. They're touchy that way." They touched down at the bottom of the access tube, and headed for the lift. "Just be glad I'm not including YOU in the Board of Inquiry, all right?"

"ME?!" Ralf looked indignant. "What the hell did *I* do?!"

"Overstepping authority, impersonating a commanding officer, and nearly causing a diplomatic incident, for starters," 'Vouf snapped. "Be glad I'm doing things the Human way this week-- on one of MY old ships, I'd have cut your arm off and made you watch me eat it."

"If I may say so, Mister Bhyarrvouf Sir," Ralf said stiffly, "You are a really gross, disgusting, arrogant and possibly psychotic son of a Vargr bitch."

"Noted. By the way," 'Vouf asked mildly, "How's Redd?"

Ralf's expression went from belligerent to sad. "And you don't fight fair," he finished softly. "Doctor van der Merwe says he won't lose the leg. It was a clean cut, and the bone and major muscle groups weren't damaged. He'll limp for a day or two, but he should be back on duty by the time we're ready to Jump...." His voice drifted off.

"Don't beat yourself up about it, Ralf," 'Vouf smiled. "How were you and Andon to know that the whole Universe was about to do a sudden jink to the left?"

"It just occurs to me," Ralf said grimly, "That if he'd been standing a meter to the left or right when the Bernoulli lurched, he wouldn't have slammed into the ragged edge of where the console'd been blown up...."

"'Credo in un deo crudel,'" Bhyarrvouf said softly. "Spearshaker the Bard said that in _O, Fellow._ 'I believe in a cruel God.'"

"Damn right," Ralf snarled. "If you'll excuse me, sir, I think I need a shower. There's cat fur on my jumpsuit. Yuck...."

Bhyarrvouf looked up from the sheet of flimsy on the table in front of him, at the ten men lined up in full dress uniforms before him. He looked at each person in the line: de Mer, Abuko, Witfield, Blaine, Edmondsen, Silvmane, Yorblin, Severin, Farouk and finally Count Ger. He looked at each man in turn, shrugged his shoulders together uncomfortably in the black and silver Bokhutokh Captain's uniform he hadn't worn since he'd been promoted by Ger, and began.

"This Board of Inquiry is hereby called to order. SubCommander Bhyarrvouf presiding, Board members Karl Morser, David Sokuku, and Doctor Sir Christian van der Merwe present." Morser looked distinctly uncomfortable in a neat but outdated civilian suit. Sokuku was sitting, his hands folded on the table in front of him, trying to look calm. Doctor van der Merwe, resplendent in his dress IISS blacks, sat with his arms angrily folded, lips pressed into a tight, disapproving line.

"In the matter of the so-called 'Kingfisher Incident,' the depositions of those involved have been examined by the Board and compared with the flight recorders. We have determined no factual deviations in the accounts as rendered, and no charges of obstruction or perjury need be considered at this time. We have reviewed the charges and countercharges, and have arrived unanimously, with one exception, at decisions regarding each of the defendants."

"Mister de Mer, Mister Abuko, and Mister Witfield, the Board has found no irregularities or potential threats to the operation of the Kingfisher in combat in your actions. You are all hereby exonerated of all possible charges, and your presence here was merely a formality. You're dismissed." The three nodded and filed out the door, Mac looking relieved, Etienne expressionless, Abuko looking annoyed and harried. As the door shut, they could hear him say, "Stupid waste o--"

Bhyarrvouf looked up at Zben. "Mister Blaine, this Board finds you not guilty of mutiny. However, your attempts to override control of essential ship's systems without informing your superiors in a time of armed confrontation with a hostile ship cannot be ignored. You are hereby found guilty of conspiracy to commit sabotage, and are sentenced to one extra half duty shift without pay, each day, for the next twenty days."

Blaine nodded stiffly, his eyes straight forward.

"Mister Edmondsen, charges of mutiny against you have been dropped, and per our agreement I have decided to drop the charge of assaulting a superior officer. The Board has no penalty to levy at this time."

"Hau," Rigo said softly, nodding.

"Mister Silvmane, this Board finds you guilty of dereliction of duty and an appalling lack of common sense. Alarms are meant to be obeyed, not shut off when they get annoying. The Kingfisher was in serious jeopardy all around you and you apparently noticed nothing until the Solomani fleet attacked. You should thank your stars that stupidity isn't a capital offense, and if I ever catch you wearing headphones on duty again I'll feed them to you. Now get out of here."

"Yessir," Dan gulped, heading for the door.

"Doctor Yorblin, this Board finds you guilty of insubordination in your conduct during the incident. You have stated that you were pleased to see the situation normalizing, but your attempts to exercise a nonexistent authority to relieve Count Ger of command only did the opposite. You're confined to quarters during your off-duty times for the next ten days."

Jan looked for a moment like he wanted to protest. A glare from the holo-hero vargr in front of him convinced him not to.

"Mister Severin." 'Vouf looked witheringly at Fitz, who had been following the proceedings with an innocent smile. "It astounds me that any sophont with such a blissful lack of intelligence could ever be able to learn to read, much less crew a starship. In all my years of service aboard starships of many different kinds, I have *never* heard of anyone physically pulling the main breakers on an active missile turret in the midst of a full alert. This Board finds you guilty of first-degree criminal sabotage, and your punishment is to take apart, clean, test, and reassemble EVERY weapons system on the Alcyon, in order, starting with the sandcasters, on your off-duty shifts. I will personally inspect each turret as you finish it, and will expect you to keep at this task until you are done to my satisfaction. You will also receive a five percent pay cut in your final crew wages at the end of this mission. Is that clear?"

Fitz looked sick. "Uh, sir, about that crack I made? YOU know, about 'defusing the situation'....?"

"Oh, it was MOST amusing, Mister Severin," 'Vouf ground his teeth. "I shall be chuckling over it every time I see you running to get more feeder-slide lubricant from Stores."

"Yes, sir," Fritz sighed.

"Now then," Bhyarrvouf continued, looking at Lazer. "Mister Farouk, in regard to the charge of mutiny, you have been found not guilty by the Board. You had no way of knowing that the Kingfisher was participating in a simulation, your knowledge of the armament of the Kingfisher led you to an honest assessment of the possible damage that could have been done, and the War Crimes Act is very specific on these matters, even for the government under which the Alcyon is flagged. On those charges, you have been exonerated, and this Board sees no need to levy any punishment."

"HOWEVER!" His voice was a whipcrack. "In the course of the action, you threatened Mister de Mer with a laser pistol. Not a stungun, which was perfectly accessible to you and within the bounds of your training to use effectively-- a LASER. You were fully prepared to shoot a fellow officer in the back with a weapon that would almost certainly have severely wounded or killed him on the spot, beyond the abilities of the Medical Team for any resuscitation. This Board finds you guilty of using excessive force in a threat situation, and fines you ten percent of your crew wages for this mission."

Lazer nodded coolly. "Sir."

Finally, Bhyarrvouf turned to Ger. "Count Ger, your case was the one that produced the division in the Board. Your actions during and after the Kingfisher incident have raised serious doubts in some circles concerning your ability to effectively command this mission. It has been noted that you carried out the simulation with proper recording in the ship's records, and that you felt that the incursion of the IASIC construct into the other ships and the untested nature of your crew demanded a test. At no time in the course of your test did you perform any illegal action per se, although the Board can and does register strong disagreement with the nature of your testimony. Your actions after the Kingfisher incident are not subject to discussion here, but the Board agrees that your stepping down until this Board reached a decision was the proper course of action. It should be noted for the record that all Board members had some difficulty with the timing and nature of your test, but that according to the letter of the law, you are not guilty of attempting to destroy an unarmed civilian target. The matter of the legality of your--" He hesitates, then continues in a firmer tone. "--of OUR standing orders can and will be raised with the authorities governing Turnskaad's activities within Reaver's Deep when the mission is over, but until then this Board exonerates you and returns you to command of the mission and the Alcyon--"

"I resign," Christian said coldly. "Effective immediately. I do not regard Admiral Nanadh as a safe or sane commanding officer for this mission, and I cannot serve under him. Jan, you have the Med Team." He stood up and walked out, his back stiff.

The zero-G tube was littered with clothing and personal effects, an empty carrybag drifting listlessly among its contents. 'Vouf swam up through the mess until he got to the Aurora's airlock. He thumbed the airlock button. It didn't open.

"Aenrra?" His voice was quiet. "Can I come in?"

"Go away." The voice in the commbug was flat, emotionless.

"...please?"

"No." The comm channel clicked off. 'Vouf turned away sadly and began scooping clothes into the bag.

"God in heaven," Redd said disgustedly. "Same as all the other decks." The bodies were beginning to rot in their seats, and the exploratory crew from the Alcyon stayed suited to avoid the stench as much as any risk of infection or sudden hull breach.

The Captain of the Hamilcar lay slumped back in his seat, eyes wide and staring at the ceiling. His mouth was frozen open in a scream, and rigor mortis had locked his body into an arch of agony. The only sign of violence was the dried trickle of blood from his nose and ears, but that was enough. Bhyarrvouf knew that an autopsy would reveal a massive cerebral hemorrhage, as if a giant hand had reached in and SQUEEZED....

Redd limped over to the Engineer's station, pushed the slumped body of the Chief Engineer onto the deck, and scanned the monitor readouts. "Huh," he said. "Main tanks are half full; they must have had a depot set up somewhere near here in the Rift."

"Enough for us to get to the rendezvous point and launch a beacon?"

"Enough for us to get all the way home."

Bhyarrvouf sighed. "Well, now we know why the Hoop didn't just blow this one up like all the others...."

<< 'Vouf! >> The voice in his ear sounded excited.

Bhyarrvouf looked up. "Reading you, Abdul. What's up?"

<< I've found the flight recorder. You aren't going to believe this, but it looks like it's intact! >>

Bhyarrvouf smiled. "That's great news, Abdul. Maybe now we--" His smile vanished. "No it isn't. I want that box isolated until we can be sure IASIC didn't leave a virus copy of itself on board. We may get some answers, but there's no way I'm taking anything like IASIC back with us."

<< Morser'll be sore. >>

"Morser's already sore," Bhyarrvouf sighed. "They took away his new toy, and now all he has are the sensor logs to read." He looked up at Redd. "Let's get back to the Gale, Redd-man. We have fuel and data; to hell with the rest...."

Ian Thomas's stateroom was doing its best to contain a small hurricane. Objects were flung off of desks and tables, furniture was overturned, mattresses and seat cushions were shredded and thrown aside. And all the while, the destruction was accompanied by an ear-shattering howl.

"THOMAS! YOU FEEBLE-MINDED IDIOT IMBECILE ROTTEN-BRAINED BASTARD SON OF A LAME K'KREE AND A SWEATY HIVER! I'LL KILL YOU, YOU DIRTY MOTHERFUCKER! I'LL KILL YOU! *I'LL KILL YOU!!!!*"

Bhyarrvouf collapsed among the wreckage, panting with exhaustion, and looked wearily over at the holorecorder lying against the wall where he'd thrown it. "You KNEW," he whimpered. "You knew ALL ALONG, and you never TOLD ANYONE...."

He buried his face in his hands and sobbed.

"Any other matters of import?" Count Ger looked up from his desk, his hands tented.

"No, sir," Bhyarrvouf said, putting his data monocular aside. "Mister Neriika reports that the second Jump went flawlessly, and we should be back in the Tuvir system in seven days or less. The people we picked up are looking forward to getting back to civilization, ANY civilization, and we'll be able to debrief at the Turnskaad facility and put an end to this mission at last."

"You're looking forward to that, aren't you?" Ger said softly.

Bhyarrvouf didn't answer.

"'Vouf," Ger said, "Do you think I should have been relieved of command?"

"Apparently not, sir," 'Vouf said stiffly. "Mine was the swing vote that kept you in the Captain's chair. Doctor van der Merwe may never forgive me for it. The same goes for others in the crew."

"You did the right thing, you know," Ger continued. "The success of this mission required my unequivocal ability to command...."

"I'm just glad your standing orders were to take us home if we could no longer study the Ringworld, sir. I have less confidence than I used to in our ability to handle anything beyond routine operations with you in command."

"Really?" Ger raised an eyebrow. "Nice of you to say so. If that's the case, why didn't you relieve me of command permanently?"

"Because I have no more right to command this ship than you do, sir," 'Vouf said tightly. "I read Turnskaad's orders and agreed to them implicitly. In the excitement of the arrival, I let myself forget that I HAD read and agreed to follow those orders. But I DID read them and agree to follow them. And that makes me just as guilty as you. Sir." He paused, eyes downcast. "I just want off this tub." He turned and walked to the door.

"Bhyarrvouf," Ger called after him.

Bhyarrvouf paused at the door. "Sir?"

Ger's weary eyes met his for a long moment. "Do you think I...Never mind. Shut the door behind you when you go."

"Yessir." Bhyarrvouf turned away.

"And I alone am left to tell the tale," 'Vouf finished sadly. "They've kept us cooped up here in debriefing for over a week now. We've been poked, prodded, and questioned from here to eternity, and no one knows when it'll be over. The people on the Westwind, Gemini Arbiter, and Glory of Efate were released two days ago. So was Tweel. He said something about refitting the Bernoulli and heading back across the Rift, maybe back to Jayelya. I wish him luck-- he got a raw deal in this from start to finish, maybe even worse than any of us."

He snorted, a sort of half laugh. "But there WERE some blessings in disguise, I guess. Technically, the Alcyon succeeded in its mission: it got to the Ringworld and back safely, with only what, two MIA and five fatalities? Anton Devious was let out of the Med center yesterday, complete with a new foot and yelling that he wanted to know what the hell was going on. Hrf! We didn't bring back any artifacts, except the stuff Doejin was wearing. Poor Doejin! They'll be questioning him for the rest of his life, if he lets them. Good thing he's developed a good curiosity about us, or he'd go nuts. And then there was Bishop...hrf! Nobody knew he had access to all of PATER's memory cores. And when that reporter asked him for an interview and told him to tell everything he knew...!"

His smile faded into a grim look of determination. "Rachel Turnskaad's been indicted for smuggling antimatter warheads and endangering an Ancient artifact. To say nothing of possibly ordering a genocidal attack on a civilian population. It looked for a while like Ger and I might go to prison too, but apparently they've decided not to shoot the messengers. Not that I care one way or the other at this point." He sighed. "They say she could go to prison for the rest of her life. Serves her right. I just wish we could have thrown Thomas and Jett in with her."

"Kakh, what a mess THAT was...." He winces. "The crew had to read it in the newsflimsies, that we were packing antimatter warheads and had orders to blow up the Hoop if we keep it from being invaded. They may never forgive me for hiding the truth. Christian still isn't talking to me. I think that hurts the most. And Kara...."

He paused for a long moment, and sighed. "And Kara."

He shrugged. A finger punched the STOP button, and the holorecorder shut itself off with a click.

"Excuze me...Herr Bhyarrvouf?"

Bhyarrvouf looked up blearily at Morser, who'd come striding into the empty lounge.

"Hi, Karl. Shouldn't you be asleep?"

"Ach du Himmel, who can zleep, mit all ze senzor-data to zorrt out?" Morser seemed unnaturally cheerful, 'Vouf thought suspiciously. He'd been morose and cranky ever since the Hoop had vanished....

Bhyarrvouf's eyes narrowed. "You're up to something, Karl. I know that smile...."

Morser sat down beside the Vargr, his eyes glowing. He pushed a small handcomp readout across the table. "Haff a look at zis, unt go on zayink zat zis vas a failure ov a mission...."

Bhyarrvouf picked up the readout, and began to page through it. Minutes ticked by. 'Vouf's eyes narrowed, and his ears snapped straight forward. His concentration deepened, and slowly he began to smile. It was the first real smile he'd had in what felt like years.....

He looked up at Morser, his voice sharp. "Who knows about this?"

Morser shrugged. "Chust me unt Dan Silvmane, zo farr. Vy?"

Bhyarrvouf leaped out of his seat, swayed, and caught the table for support. "Gah," he managed, then hunched over and threw up most of the bottle of ghtranga at his feet. Morser winced and looked away. Wiping his mouth on the tablecloth, 'Vouf said sharply, "I'm giving up drinking again. Karl, be a good friend and get me some Alc-Away from Medical, would you please? And then get on the horn to the rest of the PhysSci people and fill them in. I have some phone calls to make."

Morser smiled broadly. "Aye aye, Zir. Good to haff you back."

'Vouf gave him a half smile as he reached for the phone.

"Keyaho, may I please speak to Rachel Turnskaad? This is Bhyarrvouf. Yes, THAT Bhyarrvouf. Yes, I know what time it is. Yes, I'll hold." For a few minutes, 'Vouf hummed a little tune he'd heard Kara sing once. "Hmm hmmm hmm hm-hm hmmm hmmm, tequila, hmm hmm hmm--AH! Hello, Ms. Turnskaad? Nice to hear you're out of the slammer. I didn't realize that Turnskaad's bail-bond service could handle sums like that.....No, ma'am, I didn't call to torture you. Far from it."

He leaned forward. "Your testimony at the indictment kept me and Ger out of prison, and I wished I could return the favor. Now, I think I just may be able to. I want to meet you, NOW. Get your chauffeur to drive you to the Turnskaad compound, I'll meet you at the gate. Oh, and bring your checkbook. 'Bye."

He hung up the phone, and that old familiar grin spread over his face. He made as if to get up, and then suddenly looked at the holorecorder he'd been crying into for the past several hours. He stared at it for a moment, then calmly picked up the bottle of ghtranga and poured the dregs into the microphone grid.

The recorder sparked and sizzled behind him as he left.

Bhyarrvouf scanned the room, which was rapidly filling to capacity, and nodded in satisfaction. Everyone who was still on planet and had agreed to come was there, just as he'd asked. Word was out that the Trakh was in-system, and he might hear from Akhouw soon as well. He hoped so.

Amos Tolliver, head of Turnskaad's Bio-Research Division in system, and two Turnskaad security guards came in, with Doejin floating along between them in his skysuit. There was a momentary flurry of activity as Alliara and Horne, among others, jumped up to greet the Phin. The two security men glared at them, but didn't attempt to bar their way. Tolliver strode up to Bhyarrvouf and said in a tight-faced whisper, "We understand your concern, Mister Bhyarrvouf, but it would REALLY be preferable if we kept the subject a while longer for further tests...."

Bhyarrvouf grabbed a good-sized fistful of shirtfront. "The 'subject' is my FRIEND, pinkstink, and he's told me he wants OUT. You want the trial to include kidnapping and slavery charges? Now LEAVE. Take your goons with you. And if you cross me again, I'll suck your eyes out." Tolliver backed off, seething, and pushed his way out of the throng of people surrounding Doejin with pats and friendly greetings. The security men followed. Behind them, Alliara shot off a one-fingered salute.

Bhyarrvouf jumped nimbly to the top of a table at one end of the room, and addressed the throng. They, like he, were dressed in their civilian clothes, but there was still the tang of tight camaraderie in the air that had made the Alcyon a joy to run in the good times and at least tolerable in the bad ones. They're still a crew, 'Vouf thought proudly. They deserve a chance to do their jobs without having their heads tied up in a sack.

Bhyarrvouf began to speak, quickly and urgently.

"Thank you all for coming. After the mess this whole business became, I don't blame the people who chose not to show up, but I'm glad you all did. You know it's important, or I wouldn't have dragged you back here to listen to me yip at you again." He grinned.

"I have some important news, for those of you who might be interested in a fighting chance at a successful mission for once. In the analysis of the sensor logs, the Physical Science Team have turned up something very, VERY interesting in the region of space where the Hoop used to be. I'm afraid I don't have any visuals, but you're not missing much. There isn't much to see. In fact, there isn't ANYTHING left to see. LITERALLY."

"It was so small--maybe only ten kilometers across-- that it would be easy to miss at distances greater than the ones we were surveying the Hoop system at. But it was definitely there: when we crosschecked, it was on the Alcyon's sensors, the Aurora's, the Paladin's, even on the sensors of the Hamilcar. You all know and have seen what the Solomani tender's logs had to show us: the vanishing of the Hoop and its primary star into nothingness, leaving behind only the wreckage of the fleet. But what you couldn't see, what NONE of us saw until yesterday, was that the Hoop didn't make a clean getaway. We have spotted, in the spot where the exact center of the Hoop's primary was at the moment the Hoop vanished, a definite, stable HOLE in the four-Kelvin cosmic background. A hole, if you will, in the fabric of our Universe."

His eyes gleamed. "From the standpoint of cosmological physics, this is a discovery dwarfing even the greatest wonders of the Hoop. We think it may be a gateway into another Universe, and it may lead us to where the Hoop has gone! Our telemetry shows that the size of this gateway, if that's what it is, fluctuates, and it may not be completely stable. If we want to find it again, we need to get back there and get a look at it NOW."

"I spoke to Rachel Turnskaad last night, and we reached a modus vivendi of sorts. She must have known that sticking her neck out for the axe at the indictment, and clearing the Alcyon's crew of any charge of wrongdoing, was the best PR she could give herself before her trial, whenever THAT ends up being. But it may not be enough. She's still desperate for any kind of PR that can improve her image in the public eye before her trial begins, and so is Turnskaad: their stock has dipped sharply since we've come back, and if she gets convicted it'll go through the basement. But now, this discovery gives Turnskaad a chance to publicly and openly disavow the previous tactics its upper echelons had tried to follow...by sending out another scientific survey mission, to view the Gate, one with no hidden agenda, no secret weapons, no espionage. Just straight scientific research and exploration."

"We believed you the last time, and look what happened!"

'Vouf faced the anonymous voice from the back of the room, and nodded grimly. "I'm aware of that. The issue of illegal orders is one that got raised in a very nasty fashion on the Kingfisher, but the people involved acted in good faith, and it's obvious to me that no lives would have been lost in any case. For this mission, I just hope that we won't have to deal with the issue, because I'm seeing to it that Command HAS no sealed orders-- in fact, I've promised Turnskaad that Command will open and read any sealed orders we're given over the public holo networks before we leave. They know it'll happen, too, because...."

He pauses, and tenses mentally. This is it, he thinks. The last bodyblow. If they can handle this, they can handle anything....

"...because this time they're dealing with me. At my request, Turnskaad has placed ME in command of this new mission."

Kimball Redd stood up. "I'm outa here," he said mildly, and left.

"Me too," said O'Shi Mahlel, getting up. "See you in Hell, doggie."

"Good luck," Slide Wrinkley said sarcastically, following O'Shi out.

Bhyarrvouf watched them go, his face impassive. "Anyone else who wants to vote with his feet, can. I won't blame you. But I want a chance to make up for the Alcyon's mission, where we could have accomplished so much more than we did if we'd only known the whole truth ahead of time. If this is only a temporary and strange spatial phenomenon, it's still a scientific wonder I'd hate to miss the chance to observe up close. And if it IS a gateway leading somewhere, I'd like to find out where."

"The Alcyon has been impounded as evidence, CT missiles, sabotaged gear and all. The only loophole in that impoundment is that the law states that all sophonts on board must be allowed to leave before the ship is sealed. And by the local definition of 'sophont,' that includes PATER. He's been reinstalled on a smaller ship: the Elissa, a conventional Turnskaad Aeolus-class Jump tender. She's a bit more conventional than the Alcyon; she has enough maneuver legs to get around under her own steam in real space, can do up to ten parsecs of Jump without needing to refuel, and she's streamlined, so she can refuel herself without need for gas mining ships. We have room for up to 5000 tendered tons of shipping; that doesn't leave much, but we could certainly take a few scout ships and the Talisman along. I plan to get us there, survey the Gate, send probes into it, and possibly explore it with manned missions as well. The fuel storage tanks left behind after the Solomani fleet was wrecked have more than ample volume to get us home again. As for particulars, well, the pay is good, the question marks are bigger than they were for the Hoop survey, but at least we can be sure that no one is going to be racing us there or trying to sabotage us this time... this knowledge is only ten hours old, and the local gendarmes have sealed the starport to exiting ships until we're on our way."

"Which will be in...." He consults one wrist, and the crew suddenly notices that he's wearing what appear to be a pair of forearm bracers that bear a passing resemblance to his cybergloves, but that his hands are no longer encased in metal. "....36 hours."

'Vouf folds his arms and looks out over the assembly, his gaze challenging. "I know it's a shot in a million. I know it may be something really kakh dangerous, and it may not lead to anywhere except the Great Pack. But I'm going anyway. I want a fighting chance to succeed at the job I'm given. I don't like failure any more than any of you, and if I don't hunt down this last clue I'll never be able to rest."

"Anyone who wants to come with me, stick around so we can draw up a personnel roster. Anyone else is free to leave now; Turnskaad says that they'll be paying you and letting you off tomorrow."

In retrospect, I'm sorry that none of the dialogue and arguments that occurred between the above speech and the beginning of the action were saved. (This in fact is not the case. The "Lost Turn" has been saved, and will be posted, with a link to this spot, as soon as it is collated and editted. - mfc) But to recap: about a third of the original crew decided to quit rather than join the new mission. To supplement the remaining people, new crew were hired (you'll meet them below) and five of the Aslan from the Trakh came along, aboard a small scout ship, the Khtaliyr. The Aurora and Paladin would make the trip as riders, although Thul decided not to risk the Talisman this time out. Of all the people rescued in the R-Alpha system, only three decided to come along again: Tarmine Berana, a passenger on the Glory of Efate, and Nick Talon and Hur'Shurvan, crew of the IISS Westwind (which would also be making the journey). Arrangements were made frantically, the pit crews worked through the night on the Elissa (overseen by both Bhyarrvouf and by Yolanda Munro, the new Chief Engineer), and now, on the morning of 007-1120, it's time to get ready to leave....

Staging Area 11 - 06:00

There is very little light this early in the morning, but Boris Merkle trudges past the small huts, and various sized warehouses and landing pads that make up Turnskaad's innermost compound.

Occasionally checking a small slip of paper, Merkle negotiates his way to the Elissa's berth.

The place looks quite...no light, no movement, no sound, and I don't have the keys yet.

Hmmph. Boris glances around, sees a crate not to far from thwe ship, that appears comfortably situated to watch any approach to the ship.

He parks his butt, lights a smoke, tucks his feet onto his knees and quietly awaits the first arrivals.

With a gentle "swish," two shadowy figures descend out of the freezing night to the ground near him, their grav belts glimmering in the chill air. One is Bhyarrvouf, his fur rimed with frost and his breath steaming; the other is a dark-skinned woman with a mane of white hair that twinkles in the dim light. 'Vouf strides over to Merkle. "Sorry to keep you waiting, Mister Merkle," he says jovially. "PATER will open the access hatches for you immediately, and you can get started."

Merkle slides off the crate, eyes re-focusing, and taking in a DEEP breath.

"Good morning Captain. I don't mind the wait, even in the cold. There's just something about loading docks at the crack of day that gets me here." Boris gently taps his chest. "My father would tell you it's in the Merkle genes!"

"The morning prep crew will be here soon, and the Elissa's people will start filing in soon after that."

"I'll get started then. The sooner I get setup, the sooner I'll get to deal with everyone's 'surprises'. There is always something!"

'Vouf calls over his shoulder to the woman. "That's it for the Grid, Mister Munro. Carry on; I just have to retrieve my personal effects before things start hopping."

The grav belt hums, and Bhyarrvouf whizzes off into the velvet dawn.

Merkle watches the retreating backs of the Captain and Chief Engineer. Briefly considering hailing Mister Munro, Merkle decides that she will be busy too for the next several hours.

Striding across the yard toward the cargo bay hatch, Merkle clears his throat, looks around self-consciously and calls out into the dark, "PATER, open the cargo hatch door please."

The door opens and Merkle stalks in, looking around, taking inventory of the hold. He spots a medium sized bulk cargo cube, and smiles to himself.

"Open" he tells the slatted front of the cube, and the side rolls up into the top, revealing a desk, some chairs, and a terminal ready to roll. Merkle keys the terminal into life, and sets up a link to his handcomp.

"PATER, I'd like to set up my video communicator to whatever 'house' video system the Elissa maintains. The signal should be patched to my VidCom which will be mobile with me. Also, please log any traffic to the VidCom in a local personal file, uhhh," Merkle shrugs," well..VidCom-1 I guess."

"I'll also be packing a commdot."

With a quick look around, Merkle heads out to the yard, a bit more light visible through the stained atmosphere.

A couple of hours prior to departure, a small vehicle is seen approaching the Elissa. At first glance it looks like a `Lopec' series G-Carrier, but there are several major differences: In place of the external gun mount is a high powered laser/maser communications array; dorsally is mounted a very strange looking sensor array, folded almost flat; Behind that is a large teardrop shapped dome, that gives the craft a slighty hunch-backed look, and appears to be, of all things, a sky-light. The most peculiar difference shows up only if the craft is looked at very closely: there appears to be a fine grid covering the Entire vehicle, resembling a thin jump grid (which, of course, it can't be....). Printed on its nose and side, in small letters, is the name "Igor"

Inside Dr. Morton Limner keys the communicator to intership ground control frequency, "To Elissa from Grav Craft Igor. PATER, or whoever is monitoring this channel, I'd like permission to come aboard, and berth this vessel. Igor will require standard power and full data coupling, and should normally be accessable. Am in compliance with all Hazardous Cargo acts, and a manifesto is on file. Awaiting instructions."

_Welcome back, doctor Limner._ PATER answers over the local yard frequency. _Please land your vessel on the starboard side of the Elissa, next to mister Munro's grav-vehicle._ A Quest Hunter enclosed air/raft can be seen below, parked in the yard next to the Elissa's open cargo bay doors. _Mister Merkle will coordinate the final cargo load positioning. He is in the yard below. Please arrange the storge of your vehicle with him._

Limner scans his HUD for the Quest air/raft. Upon sighting it he keys a mike; "Igor, targeting vehicle in sector zero-zero-three. Initiate landing sequence to land at standard park distance from that vehicle. Prepare for extended active storage. Load security program "Elissa", do not execute until you receive word from me. Confirm" _Landing sequence initiated. Beginning system purge and shut down of class 2 minus systems. Program "Elissa" loaded, awaiting confirmation. Take care of yourself Doctor Limner._

The G-Carrier carefully settles down on the apron, about 12 meters from the indicated air/raft. The air lock opens and Limner pops out, with a suitcase, a backpack, and Two briefcases. These he sets down while he looks for Merkle. After a couple of misturns, he locates the loadmaster standing beside a large collection of cargo containers. When he finally catches the mans attention, his manner is quite business-like; "Mr. Merkle, I presume?"

"Boris Merkle, yes.", extending a big hand in tight leather gloves.

"Good. I'm Dr. Morton Limner, and I was told to present my grav bus to you for loading. If you need piloting clearance I can give You temporary access by voice ID from my comm link."

"I've been expecting you. I'm expecting one or two other major cargos so, yes, I'll hail you when I'm ready for final loading."

"I'd appreciate it if Igor could be as accessable as possibile, as I will need to get to it periodically to update certain experiments running aboard. Of course it'll need a standard umbilical, plus data link."

"Check. If loading lags, we can plug in out here... I'll let you know if that's likely... you might wanna check your experiments and whatnot again."

With a rueful smile Limner adds, "Security is not that critical. Igor can take care of himself..."

"Regarding your experiments and 'Igor's' security, is there anything I should be aware of, regarding enviromental security, or safety against accidental intrusion?"

Limner pauses, lost in thought for a moment. To Boris, it appears as if he's running through a long inventory in his head (which is exactly what he's doing). Finally, " Ummm, no, I think not. The primary security system has not yet been activated, so the only problem might some if someone tried to steal it. He does carry a large number of chemically and biologically hazardous materials, but in small quantities, and all packed as per STA regs. Basically, should be no problem. Thank You, and call me when I'm needed. PATER can find me."

Concluding his business with Merkle, he picks up his luggage, and heads into his assigned quarters.

The ship is quiet, at least internally. Munro is sitting at a station in engineering. Muted light from the holo-display causes random sparkles of brilliant color in her white hair. A holo-display unit is on her head, but the viewer is folded back. A hand comp is strapped to one forearm.

"Bloody 'ell. Only eight to do the job of forty. We're going to be busy! Lets see, who's on first...."

Munro leans toward the holo-display, busy with the new task at hand. Oblivious to everything including the quiet glide of Doejin.

"Greetings, Munro!" comes the tinny voice of the translation unit accompanied by the appropriate clicks and whistles.

"Whaaa, huh!!!!???!!!" Munro jerks upright, skewing around in the chair. Since she was in mid-air when the motion occurred, the chair doesn't move with her. She ends up in a half on/half off position, one arm flung over the back of the chair, the other over the engineering panel to stabilize herself.

"Greetings, Munro," says Doejin again. This time a pectoral fin is extended toward her.

"Blimey, mate! Don't sneak up on people like that!" Munro straightens in the chair and gently takes the fin in her hand and receives a hearty and vigorous shake from Doejin. Some things are never fully mastered by other races.

"I am Doejin and I am tasked with providing you with assistance on our journey," says Doejin.

"Well, more surprises every minute," mutters Munro under her breath, "Ahh, pleased to meet you, Doejin." A Phin!? What's a Phin doing here, she wonders to herself. And what's that gear he's wearing?

Doejin interrupts, "In order to assist you, I am requiring certain tools and components to perform more efficiently. If you can provide help in determining what humanoid tools can help provide my needed function, I would be grateful."

"Sure Doejin. Ah, what kind of gear do you need?" Munro brings up new windows on the board. "We can go ahead and get started designing the equipment before the others get here." Munro glances at the board. "The simple stuff can be done almost immediately as soon as the rest of the engineering crew gets here. If there is complicated stuff, it will have to wait till Merkle is done with his Loadmaster responsibilities and has had a rest."

Doejin replies, "I would require set of tools which are required for the work I am to be assigned and which also match my limbs. Modifications to existing tools should be sufficient. Also, tools and materials for basic comm link transmissions would be helpful. These items should be adaptable for underwater use in the pool. Also, I wish to create computer interface with which to substitute a humanoid's with one for Phins."

Munro, deep in thought, starts to check what appear to be lists. "We've got waldos galore that we can try retro-fitting to your harness, though it looks like you have some of the necessary gadgets on your harness already. Com-dots and the standard communications gear on board should fit your needs. The holo-displays can be re-configured to suit you. I'll show you how. All you do is store it in the computer so you can voice activate it whenever you need it. As to waterproof, they already....POOL?!? Did you say POOL? Luv, I don't suppose you'd like company now and again, would you?" This last is said wistfully.

Doejin's whistles and click reverberate from around the engineering compartment. "You would be most welcome at any time!"

Munro shows Doejin how to reconfigure the holo-display. His existing waldos acting like humanti digits in most respects. In fact, reacting faster than humanti digits can, plus being able to span farther distances. Munro looks enviously at Doejin, whistles softly and mutters "Wish I could do that."

"Well. I've got some final touches to the farking paper work to do and then gotta catch some shuteye. I'm going to call a engineering get-together at eleven hundred hours ship time. See you there, Doejin?"

"Yes! I look forward to seeing the team."

Munro leave Doejin working at a holo-display, walks to her office and mostly closes the door behind her. Doejin hears some muttering from the room and then the sound of a second door closing.

It's not long before local dawn, and the Staging Area is illuminated by the cold, directionless light of industrial glowplates. A tall, powerful man approaches the Elissa, carrying a large duffel with a prominent IISS/Exploration logo on the side. Although he is wearing heavy winter clothes over his tailored vacc suit, he appears to be shivering badly.

He stops while still some distance away, observing the frenetic movement of the crew and the dock workers as they attend to all the details that crop up in a hastily-organized mission such as this. His impassive expression would do credit to a non-synaptic robot. Shivering harder, he trudges onward into the light of the glowplates.

Looking around with the trained eye of a sociologist, he sees no one at all who appears to be in charge. He waits for someone else to go through the hatchway, then follows up the ramp (everyone knows what traditionally happens to the first crewmember on board a Vargr-captained ship, and he is not in the mood to have the tsakha beaten out of him).

"Ship Elissa, this is Rafayl Awntremont, Security department, reporting for duty. Please admit me and give me directions to my cabin."

_Welcome aboard, mister Awntremont. Please take the grav-lift up to deck three. Your cabin is number three dash three, which will be to your left as you face the bow. Once you have settled in, please advise mister Farouk, the Chief of Security, of your arrival._

He walks through the open iris valve and stops in the airlock. Accursed son of a feirogh! he thinks. I forgot to fix the window!

It is just before dawn in the Turnskaad compound on Idiilar, but the reflected light from Gian, which fills the sky overhead, makes the point moot. Vapors glisten in the clear freezing air, and ice and frost cake the ground and walls of surrounding buildings.

Staging area eleven is a hive of activity. Literally hundreds of turnskaad engineers, fuel specialists, dockhands, and a host of other assorted professionals swarm over and around the Elissa, in preparation for her imminent liftoff. A large two-man utility grav-loader slows near one of the ships' open cargo locks, then stop and gently lowers its' ponderous payload to the ground. The loader operator steps down from the cab, and hands a clipboard to a parka-clad figure standing nearby.

"Here ya go, mister Bishop." says the worker. He points at the bottom of the clipboard and adds, "Just sign right der, where it says 'authorizing signature'."

Bishop smiles and signs, the stylus moving in small, precise strokes. He then hands the clipboard back and turns to face the ship. Now ignored, the worker stares at the bulky object just unloaded. Running his hands over the surface, he whistles. "Jeez, this is bonded super-dense. Good thing the yard wasn't usin' every RAM-KS they got, or ya never would 'a got 'em to slap this thing together."

"They *were* using every RAM-KS they had." replies Bishop. "I had them pull one off line to weld this together out of scrap hull material."

"Wow." comments the yardie absently. The odd-shaped item is huge; five meters high and almost ten meters long. "What is it anyway? Some kind 'a big planter or somp'in?"

"It's a bullet trap." says Bishop. "There's supposed to be a pistol range in one of the holds, but this got overlooked until the last minute. Fortunately, there was an onboard computer record," Bishop smiles, "and I have a very close relationship with that computer."

As the yardie drives the grav-loader away, another heavily dressed figure hustles towards Bishop.

"Good Lord, Adrian!" moans Morgan Grey, "It must be twenty below zero out here!"

"Twenty six point six below zero," comments Bishop absently.

"Oh, man." wails Grey. "I wish I was back on Tuvir. Maybe you *did* have to wear a filter mask, but at least it was warm!"

"Well, it's plenty warm inside the ship." offers Bishop. "Why don't you stow your gear in your cabin and look for an officer to get some direction from." Smiling, he adds, "Or you could just stand right here and freeze to death." Glancing over Grey's shoulder, Bishop notes another by-now-familiar face. "There's Boris Merkle. I've got to find out where he wants this thing."

As Grey moves off grumbling, Bishop walks briskly over to where Boris is working. "I wouldn't stay on here in the open for too long, mister Merkle. You'll freeze solid."

Boris, looks up from his handcomp, and smiles, "Well it wouldn't be the first time Mr. Bishop."

Gesturing back towards the makeshift bullet trap, Bishop says, "We've got a last minute addition to the manifest. Where do you want it?"

"I'll get some of those Turnnskaad loafers to shove it over beside the Quest there. A lot of people seem to know each other...do you suppose I can look forward to a party or something on the way out?"

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