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Fire with Fire(133)

By:CHARLES E. GANNON


The Indian nodded. “Starfield configuration and parallax measurement both put us in the EV Lacertae system.”

“That’s some rather fast travel, I must say. And no communiqués except this morning’s?”

“Correct.”

Downing turned toward Riordan. “I’m assuming that they sent us a list of the systems included in Earth’s ‘allowed region of development’?”

Caine nodded, and activated the holotank. A two-column list of star names glimmered into existence. “Excluding our home system, there are fifty-eight systems that have been reserved for us. I’ve highlighted the ones where we’ve already pitched our tents.”

Trevor read the glowing words. Other than the highlighted names, they didn’t mean much to him. A few systems—such as Luyten 726-8—he had only seen on military navigational charts and tables. They had been visited once, maybe twice, to serve as routing alternatives in the event that main-line systems were interdicted or had to be avoided. But other than that, he didn’t know much about the other systems, except they were all relatively close.

Elena asked the first question. “Those star names—did you have to do some kind of translation, or—?”

Caine’s smile was sly. “Nope. That came from them.”

“So they already knew what we called all these stars. Interesting.”

“Yes. I’d say with each passing hour, we’re finding more and more evidence that we’ve been pretty thoroughly monitored prior to contact.”

Downing poked at his palmtop: the list shrank down and zoomed backwards, displaced by a slow swirl of bright particles at the center of the ’tank. Another jab and they stopped rotating.

Durniak came to stand by Downing. “So that is a map of the systems we are permitted?” He nodded.

Visser stared at the star map then looked over at him. “Is this bad?” she asked.

“Most of it is just disappointing. We ignored the systems that are not highlighted for a very good reason.”

“Which is?”

“They are mostly M-class stars or white sub-dwarfs.”

Durniak nodded her understanding. “Fewer planets, and almost no chance of finding any with biospheres. Gray worlds only.”

“Exactly. But there is one serious problem: a very significant omission from the list of allowed stars.”

Visser nodded. “70 Ophiuchi.”

Trevor looked at the list again. Good God, they’re right.

Opal cocked her head. “And why is it so important that 70 Ophiuchi is not on our ‘Mother-may-I’ list?”

Downing shrugged. “Because we have a colony in that system.”

Opal nodded. “So we went off the reservation there.”

“Yes.”

“So what are we going to do?”

Visser smiled. “You ask direct questions and are not afraid of direct answers: you are good to have with us, Major. Come, we will think on it together before I go to meet the Dornaani.”

Opal smiled and set off with Visser. As she passed behind Caine, she gave the back of his left bicep a quick squeeze. Trevor looked away, wished he had done so a moment earlier. But, of course, he was going to see everything she did.

Because he was always watching her.

ODYSSEUS

The door into the Dornaani ship—an iris valve—dilated. A smooth corridor—the walls curved up gently from the floor and arched subtly overhead into a ceiling—yawned before them. Caine waited: they hadn’t worked out an entry order. Caine had presumed that Visser, as ambassador, would take the lead. But she seemed very still—almost rigid. Another second went by: Oh, what the hell—

Caine stepped through the round portal, did a quick sweep with the atmosphere analyzer. The green light never wavered. “The air is okay; actually, less CO2 and marginally fewer contaminants.” As if the Dornaani had brought them all this way to either murder them with toxins or asphyxiate them through incompetence. But protocols are protocols . . .

Visser stepped over the low lip of the valve, eyes slightly lowered. As she drew abreast of Caine, she glanced up with a quick, faint smile. Caine understood the look as thanks, responded with a smile of his own. Visser’s broadened in response before she moved further into the Dornaani ship with her usual assertive stride.

Downing came next, followed by Elena. Behind them, still in the airlock, Opal stared at Caine without blinking. “You four be careful,” she whispered, still looking at him.

Caine raised his hand in farewell, just before the panels of the iris valve contracted with a swift, breathy hiss. He turned; found the others waiting for him. The milky walls stretched away into a dim haze. Uncharted territory: “Here be dragons”—or what might be stranger and more dangerous still.