The Dream of the Stars

The Dream of the Stars

PART ONE

The starship Freeport Ranger shot out of its quantum translation gate at 20% of the speed of light. As her gravitmetric field flared to life, protecting the fragile crew from the lethal g-forces of deceleration, the translation gate behind her lost it's energies to higher dimensions of space-time and boiled away into the vacuum. Some 300,000 kilometers away, the planet Beta Draconis IV glittered like a jewel against the void of space's eternal night. Beta Draconis IV was what all the stellar almanacs called the planet. It's inhabitants, and most of the rest of known space, called it Haven. As it's name implied, it was a place for those unwanted, and in some cases wanted badly dead or alive, by other systems to set up shop and home. Possessed of extremely, sometimes unconscionably, liberal laws on production, commerce, gambling, and a host of other issues, Haven was incredibly harsh when it came to it's own welfare and independence. It closely checked every incoming flight for signs of out-system intelligence operatives, and fiercely protected it's citizens' safety and liberties, sometimes with brutal force. The punishment for a large percentage of crimes was death. Of course, a great many things that were crimes elsewhere weren't crimes on Haven, and the populace being what it was, there still needed to be a mechanism for men of power to dispose of rivals and liabilities. Hence, the institution of registered dueling, and also fairly simple self-defense laws. If the other guy started it, he deserves what he gets. The common trader had little to worry about from the authorities on Haven, and far more to worry about from his business contacts. The Freeport Ranger's crew, though, was anything but common.

"Here we are, Haven. the home of cutthroats and system lords. Ash, plot us an approach vector, I'll contact station control for our clearance." I'm probably the only free-trader Captain in the quadrant who's not his own pilot, thought Dexter Logan. But then, none of the other Captains had Ash. Dex didn't mind being the operations officer on his own bridge, 'cause he still called the shots, and his crew's collective ass had been saved more than once by Ashley Garret's skills as a flyboy. Skills hell, he thought with love, the man's a fuckin' marvel. "Let's try to avoid trouble on this run, guys? We can only hope they don't cross-reference our ID's outside the system." The love deepened. I'm lucky he's mine. Turning his attention back to the matter at hand, he accessed the Ranger's external sensor suite and started running the standard sets of condition assessment programs. While they were gathering their data, he activated the ship's communications array, and as it slid out of its hull recess, targeted Haven's orbiting star port for a hailing channel.

As if sensing his friend's attention, Ash looked up from his console as Dex set about his job. He's getting worked up over this deal, poor guy, he thought. He grinned to himself. I'll have to get Dex down to the ship's gym for a few rounds, work off some steam. They made a great team, he and Dex. The fact that they both loved combat sports, and each other, was just icing on the cake. His board signaled a navigation alarm to him, the star port having acknowledged their vessel's ID and docking request. A vector for docking bay EE-385 sprang up on his astrogation screen, and station control took advantage of the open comm channel Dex had left them to greet them in Haven's traditional style.

"Starship Freeport Ranger, you are cleared for docking. Do not deviate from your course, do not attempt to deep-scan Haven or this station. You are required to log your on- board activities and transactions with station control. Any planet side business transactions are to be filed with the Guild of Commerce. You will be scanned for contraband, and the right to board and inspect is reserved by the governing body of Haven. End Transmission."

"They're never going to get any nicer, are they?" wondered Cole. Cole Vaughn was the ship's weapons officer. "And what're you grinning at, Ash? You're gonna have to stay on-board after what you got into here last time."

"Hey, it's no sweat. I can use the time to train up my ground fighting game." He grinned in Dex's direction.

Dex didn't even look up from his board, though a smile was plastered on his face. "Well, you do need all the help you can get."

Cole laughed. "Fuck, you two, I swear.... one of these days you're gonna land each other in the medical bay with some serious hurts on... what're we gonna do for command crew while you heal up?"

"Hey, you should join us more often, Cole," said Dex. "It's a tough galaxy, and we're in a tough business to boot. And it's not like you can just shoot the guy trying to beat your head in, not with personal kinetic shields and EMP- sinks. It's all hand to hand, mano-a-mano."

"Please, Captain. I can take care of myself, training's damn well required for anyone who wants to sign up with you and live through the month. You two, though... I've never seen two men so into takin' a beating." He gave it two seconds.

"Giving a beating!" the command crew said in unison. They were grinning like maniacs at each other.

Okay, half a second, Cole thought.

Freeport Ranger was within 2,500 kilometers of Haven's star port when she slowed to 1 km/sec. Arcing round the massive space station, Ash headed for a rendezvous with the docking bay assembly on it's far side. "Final RCS burn in six minutes, Dex. We'll match orbit with the station in another ten. Think we'll have time to refit the thermal- exhaust system while we're docked? It shouldn't take much longer than offloading our cargo, and there're some less than ideal ratings coming back from the diagnostic programs."

"Yeah, we should. I'm kind of hoping we can get this run done quickly, though. We could all use some downtime, and this place isn't my idea of a vacation spot. We just dump our load, collect our fee, and gate to the nearest tropical planet."

"Amen to that!" said Cole.

Dex opened the intercom to the drive bay. "Stuart, how fast can you maintenance the thermal exhaust system?"

"Well, radiating the heat we built up over the last couple gate maneuver will take about forty minutes, so call it two hours, maybe three." Stuart Krauss was Dex's drive system specialist.

"Alright, that's plenty of time. Cole and Danny come with me to meet our contact. Ash, you and Jack can help Stu get the heat-dumpers refit. Once we've made contact and settled the transaction, Danny can start bringing the cargo pods down." Danny Williams was the Ranger's cargo handler. Jack Carrin was their life support systems specialist.

"Do we have an extraction plan in case someone gets arrested this time?" Cole asked wryly. "This was a pretty long haul, and our profit margin is too wonderful to hex with a government bite out of it."

"Well, I'm staying here this time," Ash said, "So the only one's liable to get himself in trouble is Dex." He grinned at his Captain and partner.

"Well, that's good then," said Dexter. "If I do get picked up, you're still here to bust me out."

Haven's orbital star port was a huge rotating cylindrical space station with non-rotating spherical docking bays at each end. Mankind had developed the technology of artificial gravity along with the Quantum Translation Drive and the host of other miraculous technologies that came with Science learning to map the wave function of the universe, the key to the lock of quantum cosmology. In something as massive as a space station, however, the ancient method of using centrifugal force to simulate gravity was far cheaper in power and just as effective. The station's interior was comprised of a series of concentric shells, providing thirty levels of living quarters and commercial areas hundreds of square kilometers in area. The closer to the outside a level laid, the closer to standard the gravity. Each level was basically a city onto itself, with thousands of residents and transient starship crews. The outermost level, with the highest gravity, the best view, and easiest (and therefore most expensive) access to the outside was reserved for the rich, and for the station's operational crew. The closer to the center the level, the cheaper and seedier it became. At the center were the power systems and bio-reclamation sections. Not deigning to travel through the less desirable elements of their habitat, the techs from Level 1 had direct access crew lifts to use when they needed to get at the hub for maintenance.

Two-thirds of the way down the cylinder from the "north" docking bay assembly, on Level 28, a small group of people in an unobtrusive residential chamber watched the arrival of the Freeport Ranger on a holoscreen that had a tapped feed from the station's security sensors. Two were Human, the remaining five were Voracites. Nearly 7 feet tall, and weighing 300 pounds plus each, the Voracites were one of the most physically imposing sentients in known space. Hugely thick slabs of muscle and steely sinew flexed under their deep burgundy skin with every movement. They were a very intelligent, technologically capable species, possessed of a fierce and cold brutality. They thought little of other species, and took no pains to hide that fact. Only the parity of technology, a nearly inevitable by- product of attaining star flight, that they shared with the rest of the galaxy's inhabitants kept them from hunting the "lesser" races for sport. And, in truth, by the Voracites' definition, most others were certainly lesser. The most important consideration for a Voracite was whether or not someone could best them in single combat. Very, very few could.

"The have arrived as scheduled, Frax." The man who spoke turned to face the Voracite nearest him, the largest of them, and clearly their leader. "As I told you they would. There's no need for your constant threats and posturing, I'm a man of my word. Are you?"

"Take care with your words, Human. I am not a man at all, I am a Voracite Warrior, Alpha of my tribe." Frax's eyes flashed. "All you have earned yourself with their arrival is the right to continue breathing. For now. After the mission has passed it's point of no return, and your duty is discharged, you will have added to that the reward agreed upon when we began this."

"Fuck, you're incapable of saying anything that doesn't smack of melodrama aren't you?" As Frax's bright green eyes flashed, the man held up his hand. "And before you remind me how close to death I am, may I remind you that now they have arrived, I am the only one capable of bringing this mission to it's successful conclusion? They're expecting me, and would trust no one else with this cargo. You can no more kill me now than I could take you in a fistfight, and you know it. And as for later... well... I've taken measures to insure my own success." He turned to face the screen again, and watched as the starship slowed to a stop, perfectly aligned with the docking clamps. The micro- newtons of inertia it retained were just perfect to bring it into contact with the clamps, and they locked down onto the contact points. No need for corrections or re-alignments. That kind of piloting was not merely impressive, it was unheard of for a biological pilot. The Human was quite impressed. He sighed. "I'll almost regret the necessity to kill him."

Having finally made it through Inspection, Decontamination, and Customs checks, Dexter, Cole, and Danny climbed into one of the large lifts that ran from the spaceport down to the habitat levels. "Well, at least we've bought Stu his first hour and a half," grumbled Danny.

"Could be worse." Dex said with a grin.

"How?"

"Could be raining."

Cole chuckled. "You always say that... you know of course that it couldn't possibly rain in here. Where the fuck did you get that from?"

"Only one of the greatest comedic minds of the second millennium. If you had any taste for classical media, you'd know that."

"I'll leave the fascination with the arcane for you, thanks." said Cole. "Okay, so tell me again why we're bringing seven hundred tons of highly common and unremarkable quartzite ore to good Mr. Collins?"

Dex sighed. He just knew he was going to have to go through this at least once more. "Because, that highly common ore has been interphase imprinted with the quantum signature of the very uncommon and, on Haven, highly illegal metal vallidium, which they need to make their QT Drive cores. When they pass it through a quantum phase rectification chamber, the matter will reorganize itself into their new fortune."

"Which can also be used to make quantum bombs, reality- graphics projectors, and a lot of other toys that span the continuum of morality and legality between them. Given Haven's demographics, I'm not surprised that vallidium's totally illegal, despite it's many benign uses. And I know we're getting paid an obscene amount of money to bring it here because of it. But why? Why bring it eight thousand light-years across the galaxy? If they have the chamber to re-sequence it, why not just convert some of the material they already have? They could have a whole fucking asteroid of vallidium if they wanted it!"

"You're right, I can't make sense of it either. Maybe they're trying to make an ally out of the group that provided the imprint, or maybe they have the QPR chamber but not the quantum signature of vallidium. I don't know. But, we've scanned a thousand samples of the stuff in the Ranger's chamber, and there's nothing there but the signature for vallidium. And unless they've gotten a sudden breakthrough in scanner technology, the local cops can't scan our whole cargo, just the samples they take. Now, we've been very clever, and all the samples they got were un- imprinted lumps of quartz. I'm sure the cops think we're shady, or at least crazy, but we're legal, and all we have to do is offload the stuff and collect our pay. Now, would you please not badger me anymore, or I'll be forced to shove you out the nearest airlock."

"Okay, okay."

"So, this doesn't bother you at all, Captain? It is pretty weird." said Danny.

"Oh, no. This bothers the fuck outta me." Dex said, suddenly frowning. "We've gotta be sharp, boys. But, it's more money than we'll see in any ten other charters short of outright smuggling. I'm not about to pass it up."

Cole and Danny exchanged a glance, and then Cole cleared his throat loudly. "Um, Captain? Technically, it is outright smuggling..."

Level 3 Commerce Zone B-24 Subsection 5 was one of the high-end market areas. Not top-of-the-range, but nice enough that it didn't need to go by the name of Level 3 Commerce Zone B-24 Subsection 5. It was instead called The Baron's Market. The Baron was a nearly legendary figure among the plutocrats of Haven's orbital super city, one of the first hugely successful Human entrepreneurs in the system, and his company headquarters had been in what was now the Market. His company's industrial stations were still in operation, up on Level 15, but were now owned by a multi-system conglomerate.

Dex, Cole, and Danny emerged into the neon holographic haze of the Market's main strip, an avenue fifty meters wide that ran right through the center of the zone, wrapping a quarter of the way around the stations' circumference. Advertisements for everything from starships to sex-slaves flared silently over their heads. Due to the tremendous crowding of the street's airspace, none of the advertisers bothered with sound.

"We're supposed to meet Collins at the Gemfire Bar. According to the address he gave me, it's two streets to the left, about a hundred meters up." Dex set off through the crowd, his crew a step behind him. They were a common sight to the locals, a group of starship crewers on their way to buy something, or sell it. The crowd noticed enough to part fairly easily for them, though. Dex cut a powerful figure, for a Human. He stood 6 feet 2 inches tall, and 230 pounds of solid muscle. His baggy cargo pants hid thick tree-truck legs and meaty, muscled calves, but his washboard abs, thick bulging pecs and cannonball shoulders were on display in the tight grey t-shirt he wore. His massive arms and club like forearms bore a couple tattoos in ancient Earth tribal patterns. Dark hair, bright blue eyes and a lean face topped it off. Dex always led the way in crowds. He drew attention, and he knew it. He loved it.

Cole and Danny walked a step behind him, drinking in the sights, and, incidentally, keeping a keen but subtle eye for anyone tailing them or taking too much interest in them. Only in the company of Dex or Ash would they not draw attention in their own right. Danny was a redhead, with green eyes, a very light dusting of freckles, and boyish face. At 190 pounds and 6 feet tall, he had the lean hard body of a classic Thai kickboxer. Cole had light brown eyes and hair, a rugged face covered in a day's stubble, and a build in the proportions of Dex, though he was 40 pounds lighter and 4 inches shorter. Physical fitness was something Dex wanted in his crews, and the level of training they maintained built on that, to say nothing of the fact that Dex's love of contact sports and intense workouts usually rubbed off on everyone.

The group reached the Gemfire without incident, though Cole was pretty sure he'd picked up a couple undercover cops tailing them. They kept their distance, though, and didn't seem to be too keyed up. Probably just wondering why we've brought a shitload of useless rock here, he thought. Still, Dex's crew hadn't done anything illegal, and if later, after Collins' group used their quantum bombs, the connection was made to the Freeport Ranger, well... they wouldn't have to bring a cargo within a hundred light-years of here after this charter, if they didn't want to. They'd be bloody damn rich. I don't believe for a minute that they're building QT Drives, he thought. I doubt Dex does either. Still, Haven's a pesthole, and I'm not gonna lose sleep over what these guys do to themselves. The cops didn't even follow them in.

As they walked into the bar's dim interior, a thin bearded man in a very nice and expensive business suit took notice of Dex and walked over to them. His head barely reached Cole's chin. Dex towered over the man. Quentin Collins extended his hand, and Dexter's engulfed it in a handshake. "Ah, Captain Logan, a pleasure to see you again. Glad you made it in one piece, eight thousand light-years is a damn long flight." He turned and gestured into the crowd. "Our table's waiting, I believe. If you'd follow me?" He started off. Dex looked back at Cole, who gave him the all clear. No heavies were on top of them. They started off after Collins.

"The Ranger's pretty big, for a private trader. She's well equipped, too. It really wasn't such a tough flight." Dex loved his ship, and got a little defensive when someone implied his baby was less than perfect.

"Don't be modest, Captain. There are a few other private traders the size of the Freeport Ranger, some larger. And though I have no doubt she's got all the best systems, the fact is some starships never travel more than two thousand light-years from their home port, and most don't go more than five or six. You traveled eight thousand, and as far as I know, the Freeport Ranger doesn't even have a home port. You've really quite impressed us." Quentin Collins smiled his most dapper and elegant smile, and poured them all a measure of the thick amber liquid from the bottle in front of him into the crystal shotglasses on the table. Cole noted the label on the bottle. Southern Comfort Whiskey, bottled in 2110, at the original distillery on Earth. A 740-year-old bottle of booze. Fuck me, this stuff's worth more than our combat spaceplane. Where's this guy getting his funding?

Dex accepted the full shotglass from Collins, and held it in the air as though proposing a toast. "Well, on behalf of the Freeport Ranger and her crew, thanks for the compliment.", he said, and downed the thick liquor. He didn't even bat an eye at it. "Now, if we could get down to business?"

Cole gulped his own shot, and used a considerable effort of will not to wince as it scorched his gullet. He shot a glance at Danny. To the outside observer, Danny was as unaffected as any of them, but Cole knew his oldest buddy in the galaxy. The man was on the edge of spluttering. Cole fought down a grin.

Collins raised his own glass, and downed his bourbon. He sat the shotglass down and spoke immediately, without the slightest quaver in his voice. Cole was vaguely jealous. "Straight to the heart of it, eh? Excellent, Captain. We are ready to receive the shipment of quartz from you. We have a cargo bay secured for our use in the same docking sphere your starship is currently residing in. We also have a cargo shuttle if you are not in possession of one, though I'm sure you are. If it's amenable to you, we will inspect a random sampling of the cargo from each shuttle load, and if it meets our purity requirements, we'll transfer payment in full, plus standard hazard and shipment expenses, to your accounts."

"You have proof of the available payment, of course?" Dexter asked.

"Of course." Collins replied smoothly. He drew a Galactic Bank module from his suit and activated it. Dex drew his own and ran a query on Collins' module. Sure enough, the required 200 million credits were there, along with several times the amount.

"Normally, given how difficult it is to crack and simulate the Bank's encryption sequence, I'd accept this. But, this is a huge investment for us, and a huge payment, too. I'm afraid I'll need more than just a credit module that says you have my money." Dex said. His eyes never left Collins'.

To his credit, Collins didn't blink. Sentients of many species had been known to whither under the fierce Logan gaze. "I had anticipated this difficulty, Captain." He pulled another small device from his suit, and laid it on the table. It was stamped with the star port's logo. "This is a government issued net-comm server, guaranteed by the Haven state. Its authentication routines are exhaustive and complex. Given Haven's paranoia of outside intelligence agency infiltration, and fierce protection of its independence and the rights of its 'upstanding' citizens, you have some idea of just how complex they are. You can run as many requests to whatever net addresses you like, through whatever links you desire, until you're satisfied of it's authenticity and security. Then, all you need do is access our account from the local Bank node through this module's data channel, and you'll see we're on the level. More and better proof I cannot give you."

"Thank you." Not for a minute inclined to take Collins at his word, Dex used his own net-comm to access the Ranger's flight computer, and had it run several thousand random address checks through the Haven net-comm. Once he was satisfied, he checked Collins' account again. The figures came back the same. "Mr. Collins, I believe we have a deal." He offered his hand.

"Excellent, Captain. You may begin transferring the cargo, our people will meet yours at cargo bay RW-993. The station's infonet will have the location for you." He poured another round. "Care to join me for a few more? It's on me."

"Certainly, thanks. Danny, head back to the Ranger and start getting the cargo offloaded. We'll meet you back at the ship in a few. Have Stu give me a head's up at least thirty minutes before he's done with his overhaul."

"Sure thing, Captain." Danny replied. He stood up, threw a wave and a wink Cole's way, and headed for the door. Cole didn't worry about him getting jumped on the way back, Danny was tough, and smart enough to signal for help if he saw something coming he couldn't handle. Cole turned his attention back to the table. He had to admit, Collins seemed on the up and up, and he really couldn't have provided them with better proof. He picked up his shotglass, and sat back to enjoy hanging with the big boys.

So why was he still so nervous?

Danny ran into only a little trouble on his way back to the Ranger. A couple of Garumens traders decided to relieve him of his valuables three sections away from the Gemfire. Or rather, attempted to relieve him. Danny saw it coming at least 3 minutes before they struck; he'd noticed one of them tailing him. Ahead lay a narrow and rather poorly lit corridor leading to the lift lobby for the docking bay. At the moment, it was fairly empty. Just my luck to be out walking around during happy hour, he thought grimly.

Two-thirds of the way up the corridor, the Garumen waiting in ambush struck, leaping from behind a support pillar and attempting to clock Danny with a wild roundhouse. Danny stepped back smoothly, and when the large sentient was off-balance, grabbed his outstretched wrist, pulled the arm taut, and hammered a palm strike against the outside of the elbow joint all in a fast ballet of deadly force. The joint shattered, bone splintering with an audible crack. The Garumen screamed, and while he was occupied with that Danny stepped back and hammered a front thrust kick into the being's chest. Another snap of bone, and the muscled brute stumbled back a few meters and fell to the floor. He stayed there, whimpering quietly.

The whole exchange had taken only three seconds, and Danny turned to deal with the assailant behind him even as the first one was falling to the ground. However, he'd misjudged how much the other Garumen had closed in on him since the last time he'd had a chance to look back at it. As he completed his turn, expecting plenty of room to work, the hulking, low-browed mountain of blue-skinned muscle was right on top of him. The thing was at least as big and built as Dexter. Before he could step back and get some room to work, the creature snatched him up in a brutal bearhug.

Danny's breath exploded from him as the monster squeezed, its right hand locked around it's left wrist, and digging into his spine. He could feel it's iron hard biceps pushing into his lats, and it's chest swelled against his straining muscles as it grunted in satisfaction. He started to see spots, and felt his ribs bending under the pressure.

Grunting savagely, he slammed his head forward into the Garumen's face, pulping its nose. It screamed in pain and dropped him, stumbling back a couple paces.

Without even pausing to catch his breath, Danny stepped inside his assailant's guard, and hammered one blow after another into its head and midsection. His torso protested fiercely, every explosive movement he made bringing waves of pain down his side, in his ribs, and his lungs burned like mad. He didn't slow down. Stepping back while the thing was dazed, he leveled a brutal kick at it's knee joint, and when it came crashing down to it's knees, he stepped back and brought a right roundhouse kick full bore into the thing's head. It's neck snapped loudly, and it dropped to the floor.

Danny slumped against the wall, gulping air in deep ragged breaths, letting the fiery tide of adrenaline ebb in his veins. The thing had probably broken at least two of his ribs, but other than that he was okay, so far as he knew. He waited and allowed his breathing to steady, then pulled his net-comm from his pocket. No way was he going to let Cole hear him out of breath. He keyed for Dex's comm.

"Danny, what's up?" came Dex's voice.

"A couple Garumens tried to jump me near the docking bay lift." he replied.

"You okay?" Dexter asked. There was concern in his voice, but not too much, and neither worry nor panic. He knew what his officers were capable of.

"Yeah, I'm fine, but I had to kill one of them, and really put the hurt on the other one. The internal sensors will show they jumped me, so I should be ok, but the cops are already on their way, I'm sure. You want me to hang around for them?" Danny asked.

"No, I don't want to delay the cargo transfer more than we have to. Log a notice in the cops' message-net to see me about the incident, and head back to the ship. I'm the Captain, I'll be responsible for your actions." There was a pause. "So, how long did it take?"

"Um, I'd say about forty seconds."

"Only forty seconds, for two Garumens? Impressive." said Dexter. Danny could hear the grin in his voice.

"Whoo! That's my boy!" Cole crowed.

It took Danny a little over a half-hour to make his way back to the docking bays.

"What happened to you?" asked Ash when the Ranger's cargo handler came back. Danny was holding his side as he stepped from the airlock into the ship's cargo hold. Ash and Jack were replacing the processor node that governed the thermal-exhaust shunts on the port side of the ship. Stu was currently EVA, taking care of the shunts and radiator assemblies themselves.

"Got jumped on the way back. Nothing serious, just got a couple ribs busted." he replied.

"You give as good as you got?" asked Jack.

"Please, orders of magnitude better. They're probably still lying there." he said, mock outrage in his voice. Then his voice took on a more serious note. "One of them definitely is."

"Damn. Sorry, Danny. it's never easy is it? But, sometimes it's you or them. Who were they?" asked Ash as he linked up the new node and started diagnostic programs running.

"A couple of Garumens." Danny said.

"Damn! A couple? Remind me to not piss you off, man, you're a fucking terror!" Ash said.

"Yeah, I know." Danny's cool demeanor was spoiled when he pulled his shirt off over his head, gasping and wincing as his muscled flexed against his broken ribs. There were bright red marks on both sides of his muscular torso.

Jack chuckled. "Come on, champ, let's get you down to the med bay." He clapped his hand on Danny's big shoulder and grinned at him.

"No time, I've gotta start hauling their goodies down. I'll just wrap it up for now." He grabbed a length of bandage from the cargo bay's medkit and starting wrapping his ribs. Jack stepped over to help him out. "Wanna help me get the cargo shuttle prepped?" Danny asked when they were finished.

"Sure thing." They started to head for the cargo shuttle's hanger.

The intercom channel opened with a ping. "Hey, guys?" came Stu's voice, faintly nervous.

Ash stepped over to the comm-panel and tapped a key. "Yeah, Stu, what's up?" he asked.

"Have we hired any local maintenance crews that I don't know about?"

"No, of course not, why?" asked Ash, with growing unease.

"Because, there's a bunch of guys coming into this bay with tech waldo attachments for their spacesuits. Of course, maintenance crews usually use lights..." There was a very pregnant pause. "Um, scratch that, they don't have tech waldos."

"What do they have?" asked Ash, already knowing as much of the answer as he needed to.

"Plasma-pulse assault rifles."

"Oh, fuck!"

After Danny's call, Dexter experienced a sudden foreboding. One of his crew had been attacked, in one of the fairly low-crime levels, and by a group of sentients who generally don't mess with people they don't have a grudge with. If it were me or Ash, I could see them having a grudge, he thought wryly. But Danny doesn't have any personal enemies. He's too nice. He caught Cole's eye, and could tell his buddy was ready to split, too.

He stood up. "Well, Mr. Collins, it's been a pleasure, but it looks like I'm going to have to go play damage control with the cops. Hopefully your cargo transfer won't be delayed too long. Thanks for the drinks." He stood up, and Cole did likewise. Collins remained where he was. That's rude, thought Dex. Then he noticed the look in Collins' eye.

"I'm afraid I'll have to add a small item to our initial contract," said Quentin Collins.

Dex and Cole stepped away from the table, knocking their chairs over. "Go!" shouted Dex.

Suddenly, the lights in the Gemfire Bar went dead, and the doors all slammed shut. It was pitch black inside. "Sorry, this won't help you." said Dex calmly. "We're both excellent in blindfolded combat."

"I know." came the voice of Collins, still standing at their table. "Fortunately for me, I have no need to fight you at all." There came the sudden bright flash and ultrasonic pulse of a stun grenade. Dexter cursed himself; he should've seen it coming. As he vainly fought unconsciousness, his senses began to shut down. The last thing he heard was the sound of Cole's body hitting the floor beside him.

Consciousness returned slowly to Dexter, though his forming thoughts noticed that he didn't feel weak, disoriented, or fuzzyheaded the way stun grenades usually left him. In fact, he couldn't feel the effects of the whiskey at all, either. He sat up and looked around for Cole, but his officer wasn't in the room with him. Then he noticed two more things. His clothes were gone, and in their place he'd been clad in form fitting fight shorts. His hard muscles gleamed in the harsh lights.

That was the second thing he'd noticed. He was in the middle of a big room, under bright lights, a mat under his feet. Clearly, a fighting ring, and round the outside, just visible in the darkness, he could see a gallery of spectators, mostly Human, but with other sentients scattered among them. He noticed all of them were at least as young as him and built like fighters. All, that is, except Quentin Collins.

"I'm sorry about the need to knock you out, but I'm fairly sure you'd not have cooperated in this little venture voluntarily. I took the liberty of administering a mild stimulant to counteract the effects of the grenade. I wanted you at full alertness for this. Before you try to come kill me," said Collins, holding up his hand as Dex approached him, "you should know that I have of course placed a forcefield around the ring. I'm afraid you're here for the duration."

Dex backed off, and stood proud in the center of the ring. "Okay, I'll bite. The duration of what?"

"In the short term, the duration of my amusement. You're tough, Logan, and your reputation precedes you. I'm curious to see how tough you really are. In the long view, several things. In order of occurrence, they'll be the invasion of Haven, the use of you by the Voracites to learn the secrets of Human success, your own demise, and the conquest of the galaxy by the Voracites. Actually, I guess you won't be here for that last bit. My apologies. Feel free to ask all the questions you like, I feel you're entitled to know why you're dying before we begin." Collins sat back and crossed his arms.

"Well, I don't really need to ask why the Voracites want to conquer the galaxy, being bastards is part of their nature." Dexter paused. "What do you mean, the secret of Human success? We're no more successful than any other sentient species. And why do they think they can learn it from me?"

"Really, Logan. For someone who claims to love history... as to your first question, I mean that we as a species developed into a star faring civilization faster than any other known, much faster... in most cases, by millennia. Those of us living now don't notice it, or give it much thought if we do, because we live with a general parity of technology with most of the races we encounter. We're just the same as everyone else, right? But how we got here is positively extraordinary. And what about our mastery of quantum cosmology? Our wondrous Quantum Translation Drive, our solution for artificial gravity... many of the technologies we take for granted. Again, yes, other races have solutions to these needs, but the solutions themselves and the developmental histories of the technologies can vary widely. Take the big one, starflight: can you name another species who's stardrive is as elegant, runs for as little cost of energy, is as safe, and can cover as much distance in a single usage? Yes, there are some that excel in one area or another, but not many, and none that exceed or even match the QTD in all categories. We are amazing, really. It's almost as if we've been getting help all these centuries. The Voracites think so, and they want that help for themselves."

Collins paused, taking a long drink from a glass sitting beside him. Dex noticed for the first time that while the rest of the arena seating was commonplace, meaning row after row of grungy benches, Quentin's ringside seat was a wingback leather chair, with a small table at his side. Collins sat his glass back down and continued. "As to why you, well. They didn't care what Human they used, but they took my suggestion and chose you. I must admit, part of me merely wanted you here for this. I'm a slight man, as you can see, and not well equipped for personal combat. But, I do find a certain pleasure in the spectacle, and you're sure to provide an excellent one." He paused for a smile. "However, I really am interested in the results of the Voracites' tests on you. You are preposterously lucky, Captain. Not merely a successful starship Captain at the very tender age of twenty-two, you are a hugely successful one. You are traveling more, making more money, than any of your contemporaries. If you keep going at the rate you are, you'll be able to retire at the age of thirty-five. No one is that good, Captain. No one. If there is a shadowy hand helping Humanity, you seem to be getting extra special attention."

"How do you know it's me?" Dexter asked. "All you can see is that the Ranger's successful, but that could be the ship, or one of my crew. Or nothing at all! What makes you think I'm anything more than lucky? This is crazy!"

"Yes, that had occurred to me, but you seem to provide independent evidence of personal 'luck', shall we say." Collins replied.

"How's that?" Dexter asked, curious in spite of himself.

"I should've thought that was obvious, Captain. Your astonishing skills as a pilot."

He nearly said it. Ash is our pilot. It took every iota of willpower he had to give nothing away in that moment. Oh, fuck, Ash... no. Ash, buddy, I swear they won't get you, man. I'll die first. I swear. A storm raged in his head, his love for Ash nearly betraying him. He waited a moment while he got control of himself. After he'd gotten a hold on his emotions, he realized there were many questions left unanswered. He needed to take advantage of this opportunity to find out about what was happening.

It seemed, though, that his time was up.

"Well, Captain, I'm afraid our schedule doesn't allow for a longer question and answer session. It's time we got this show on the road. I'm running a sort of test of my own, you see. Not only do I get to observe your skills in battle, but can see how much your so-called luck does press the boundaries of probability. This arena is a reality- graphic, you see, as is the fighter you're about to encounter. As you fight it's program will continue to improve. Until you break." Collins smiled. "Let's get started, yes?"

A human male, very young in the face, maybe 17 or 18 years of age, rose from the crowd. Despite his youthful appearance, he was as tall as Dex, and built as powerfully, he even looked to be a few pounds heavier. His muscles gleamed in the lights, clad only in a pair of fight shorts like Dex's. Of course, this being a reality-graphic simulation, Collins could make his fighter whatever size, shape, and species he wanted. His form had nothing to do with the strength and skills aspects of his program.

The fighter stepped up to the ringside. The forcefield around the ring shut down, the atmospheric molecules comprising the shield losing their cohesion as the super- valency field vanished. The solid, armor-like wall of air surrounding the ring became insubstantial gas once again, and the youth stepped into the ring. The field snapped on behind him, and the air solidified into a transparent wall once more. The youth grinned, and took a ready stance. Dex responded in kind. As much as he wanted to get free and get back to his shipmates, he forced the part of his mind running escape scenarios to focus on the fight. Collins was, if nothing else, clearly a sadist, and Dex knew he'd need his full attention and energy for this fight.

"Begin." Collins said.

The youth shot forward with quick steps, feinting to the left and then coming around with a sharp right aimed at Dex's head. It didn't telegraph it's intentions, didn't have any tells at all. Only Dex's instincts were serving him here. He saw the feint coming, and as the youth committed itself to throwing the right, he was already coming in on its left with a vicious hook. His fist slammed into the youth's head, knocking it badly off balance and sending it stumbling back and to the right. Dex stepped in while it was reeling and hooked it's left arm with his left, locking it down with his hand over its shoulder blade, and stepped behind it, keeping it off balance. He hammered a blow into its kidneys, and then threw it down onto its stomach, keeping its arm trapped and coming down on top of it.

"Oh, Bravo! Very nice, Captain, though that is a relatively low skill setting. In deference to your advanced skills, I think we'll skip a few levels as we advance the difficulty." Collins pressed a switch on a module sitting on his small table.

Suddenly, the youth turned into Dex, bringing its arm free. Dex tried to snag it's leg, to keep it under him, but he wasn't prepared for how much faster it had become. The youth threw its weight upward with its arms, and got a leg under itself. Slamming an arm around Dex's midsection, the thing powered him down onto the ground and started to work for a side mount. At least he seems to have the strength setting on a realistic level, Dex thought, though that was cold comfort, since the damn thing was as strong as he was anyway. Of course, that hardly mattered, since Collins would simply keep upping it's talents until it killed him. But he was damned if he'd lay back and let it happen.

Dex lifted his hips and slid away from the youth, using his free hand to fire a jab into its head. It reached up to ward off the blow, which let Dex step back and take his feet again. As the youth came to its feet, Dex snapped a kick at its head. In the moment it took for it's head to snap and roll back, Dex had shot in for a double-leg takedown. Flipping the youth down and onto it's back, he started working past its guard, ducking the jabs it fired his way.

"You are impressive, Captain. I'm sure you can't tell, but you are at the level all my previous amusements were beaten at. And here you are holding your own easily. Of course, I expected no less. Let's move along, shall we?"

Just before Dex secured his mount, the thing slipped down and tossed him over it's head before he'd taken his base. They spun round to face each other again.

And so it went. After all his matches with Ash and the boys, Dexter's stamina and pain threshold were about as high as it's possible for a Human to get. But this was no ordinary fight, for he faced a tireless opponent. Though the simulation sweated, and panted, and it's skin grew hot and slick, it would never exhaust itself, never tire and make a mistake. And it kept getting better. Every time Dex neared a submission position on it, Collins would increase its speed or skill slightly. The margins by which Dex countered it's moves narrowed, and a couple times he'd had to extricate himself from its own submission holds.

After almost 20 minutes of this, Dex was feeling heavily fatigued. He didn't have much left, and he had only one strategy to play. Whether he hadn't or couldn't, Collins hadn't made it any stronger. It was the only thing he could exploit.

As the thing came at him again, Dex locked its upper body and sprawled, bringing it down, and quickly spun around to take rear mount. The youth, expecting him to try a chokehold, brought its arms up, ready to bring its hands to it's neck to defend, and surged to its feet. Dex grabbed the thing around it's chest, trapping it's arms, and bore down in a bearhug. If I can keep it here, maybe Collins'll get bored, he thought. Or maybe he'll just kill me. Then all thoughts left his head as he focused his entire being into crushing the shit out of the monster in his arms.

The youth flexed its arms and back, trying to muscle its way out. Dex knew that if Collins turned up its strength, the way he had its speed and skill, the thing would kill him. This was all he had left. It was tremendously strong already, and it took everything Dex had to contain it. His arms, chest and back burned from the exertion, and he could feel his tendons straining as the youth grunted and brought more force to bear. Dex grit his teeth and squeezed more power from his battered muscles, as the thick muscles of the monster in his arms flexed hugely, trying to escape.

"Come now, Captain. I really don't have time for delaying tactics such as this. You realize you're only delaying the inevitable," said Collins smugly.

"Fuck... you." Dex ground out.

Collins' features darkened. "Very well. I tried being civil." He reached over and picked up his control module.

Suddenly, Dex could feel his strength overcoming the youth's. Why's he turning it down? Is he just gonna shoot me? Then he realized, his arms weren't pressing in on the thing. They were pressing into it. His arms began to sink into the construct, and it began to dissipate as the artificially applied forces lending it cohesion faded. Dex realized that the whole reality graphic environment was dissolving. He also realized that Collins wasn't responsible for it. Partly, he could tell by the look on Collins' face.

Cole standing behind Collins with a maser pistol was also a big clue.

"Don't move, you fucking bastard," he growled. Collins spun round, face locked into a mask of shock and panic. His veneer of suavity was completely blown away.

"You!" he cried. His gaze darted for a moment between Cole and Dex. "Shit!" he yelled, and keyed a command on his module. Cole started to squeeze the trigger.

Before Cole got a shot off, Collins screamed in agony. His body flared with bright blue light, seeming to be lit from the inside out. Organs and bones were visible through the glare. In a heartbeat, the light had moved down the spectrum from blue-white to a golden brilliance. A wave of heat came rushing off of Collins' form, and his outline began to expand, his form to grow more insubstantial. In just two seconds, the glow faded, and there was only a faint grey cloud of dust, only slightly more dense than the air around it. Cole and Dex started at one another in surprise.

"Guess he was the 'death before dishonor' type." said Cole, stepping over to help Dex up. "You okay, Dex?"

"You can't dishonor a slime like that... he was just a fucking coward." Dex took a couple deep breaths and took stock of himself. "Yeah, I'm fine, just a little bruised. I'm pretty winded though." He stood up straight, and turned to Cole. "What happened to you?"

"He put me in one of these, too. But, he didn't bother to leave the mats inside a forcefield, since no one was there but me." Cole grinned. "I guess he didn't realize you can de-activate an RG environment from the inside. It took me a bit to do, and to find our clothes and weapons; he had them stashed in a different part of this complex. But he didn't have many guards around, and none of them were very good. What was his game, though? Why bring us all this way to fuck with you?"

"Oh, there's way more to it than that... I'll fill you in on the way back to the Ranger. We've gotta hustle."

One light-year from Haven's star system, while Collins was busy being entertained by Dex, a fleet of ships was gathering, building formation, preparing themselves for the task ahead. There were hundreds, and they looked like drones buzzing round a huge queen, a giant starship at the forward center of the deployment.

Any species that has mastered physics and cosmology to the point of being able to build a working stardrive finds as it spreads among the stars that their fears, if they have them, of races with super advanced technology that will crush them are unfounded. They find a fair balance of technology with their fellow sentient species. However, methods of problem solving vary widely sometimes, and that variance forms the basis of commerce between many star faring species, which trade their technologies with neighbors seeking something new and different.

The Voracites' solution to interstellar travel reflected their racial psychology, based on brute force. They used a tremendous output of energy, provided by a matter/antimatter reaction, to force quantities of exotic matter into existence, and to provide a massive spatial distortion force against space-time. They fed the exotic matter into the artificially generated spatial distortion, forcing it open and keeping it stable. The result was a controlled wormhole with a mouth nearly ten kilometers in diameter. To build this drive system into every starship would be impossible, so they had constructed only a few: gigantic, energy-hungry vessels called Space-Eaters, who's effect on space-time was so pronounced due to the drive system that, even in an inactive mode, they produced a gravity field of nearly a half-G. Once the Voracites established a world, they'd build a stationary Gateway at the edge of the system, and these provided a network connecting their empire. They used the Space-Eaters when they planned to conquer a new world, bringing hundreds or thousands of starships with them and crushing the natives with overwhelming force. Since the time of encountering races that they could not afford to subdue, the Space-Eaters had been mothballed for the most part, being brought out only when worlds not claimed or not aligned had been discovered. Haven was neither of those, but what was at stake for the Voracites was too great, and a small-scale strike force was beyond them, both technologically and psychologically. It was all or nothing.

The heavy Command Cruiser Fierce Hunter looped around the mighty Space-Eater, heading for its position at the vanguard of the attack force. The craft was built with an eye towards intimidation, a hulking blood red and black monstrosity 650 meters long, squat and angular and covered with weapons emplacements. Her awesome firepower was under the command of Field Commander Hurrig. Hurrig was a proud warrior, and took pride in the prowess of himself and his starship. None commanded his respect or fear... well, almost none.

"The Human has been isolated, and his comrades are being neutralized. Now is the time to strike. You must arrive within twelve pahns." came Frax's voice, his cruel visage on the Fierce Hunter's bridge monitor.

"Yes, Lord Frax, we are establishing final transit positions now... we shall enter the system on schedule." he replied, his every motion conveying his submission to his master's greater might.

"Good. There can be no errors, no failings. This is the beginning of our race's glory. We may never have another chance. Hunt well." Frax's signal ended, and his terrible countenance was replaced with a tactical display of the squadron's formation.

"Final positions established, Commander." came the voice of Hurrig's Tactical Officer. "We are ready."

Hurrig felt the fire of battle-madness swell in his soul, it's heat boiling in his veins. It's been too long, he thought. "Launch squadron! Begin establishing targets as soon as we're through."

The great Space-Eater charged its drive, applying monstrous forces against the fabric of the universe. A bright point of light flared ahead of the fleet, rapidly expanding and causing distortions in the shape of space around it made visible by the misshapen images brought by the light passing through them. As the wormhole mouth reached it's full size, the center folded in like a gigantic whirlpool, and as one, the fleet moved into it.

Ash, Jack, and Danny sprinted onto the Ranger's bridge, Ash leaping over the guardrail to take his station. Jack took Engineering, and Danny took Ops. "Stu are you in?" Ash shouted. The bridge's comm-panel came to life with the engineer's voice. "Yeah, and the airlock's sealed behind me. I'm on my way to the drive bay."

"How fast can you get us to full power?" Ash asked.

"I can get us fire control and maneuverability in about three minutes, we can have the QTD core ready to go in a little under fifteen." Stuart replied.

"Dammit! Alright, first priority is fire control, and getting the valency generators in the hull charged up. We're outta this bay yesterday." He ran his console's startup routine, while Danny slaved the Tactical station's functions to his board. Now, Danny could run both Ops and Tactical from his station. Ash keyed for Dexter's net-comm. "Captain! You there?"

"Ash! Yeah, I'm here, are you ok? Did Danny make it back alive?"

Ash and Danny exchanged a quick look of surprise. "Yeah, he's here. How'd you know something's up?" asked the pilot.

"Cole and I've been a little busy too. We're on our way back to you, and we've got some unpleasant company behind us. Get prepped for takeoff."

"We already are, but Dex, we're under assault here too, and we can't hang around very long. What's your ETA?"

"Maybe ten minutes."

"Shit. We don't have that long... what's plan B?" Ash asked. He knew and trusted Dex. He'd think of a way out of it. And if he couldn't... well, there was no way they were leaving without him. I love you, man. if we're dying, we're going together.

Outside the ship, the attackers drew closer. The weapons they were carrying were very powerful, but had not only a very defined maximum range limitation; they had a minimum limit, too. The plasma-pulse rifle fired a slug that was basically a complex and tightly coiled magnetic conductor, a web of super-thin strands of material bundled into a bullet shape, who's cumulative magnetic field formed a very specific geometry. When fired, they'd strip electrons from molecules in the surrounding medium, building a static charge and thermal energy as they went, gathering more and more particles into the matrix. If they hit their target too soon, they'd have little more effect than a lead slug. Too far, and the energy build-up would cause the slug to disintegrate, and the projectile would explode and discharge it's energy before it hit. The distance limits could be set ahead of time, but one had to know how far they'd be from the target.

While Ash was bust waiting for Dexter to come up with plan B, the attackers reached their optimum range, and opened fire.

There was no atmosphere as such in the docking bay, crews still had to wear spacesuits to go EVA. However, with all the starships inside discharging cryogenic gases, and ion jets and chemical maneuvering thrusters putting out material, the atmosphere was thick enough to make the rifles effective.

The Ranger's hull began ringing with the impacts, the ship vibrating violently as dozens of small impact craters and stress fractures were blasted into her tough outer surface by the slugs' detonations.

"Shit!" said Ash, bringing the reaction control system thrusters online. "Stu, work faster, for fuck's sake!"

"Okay, You've got fire control in thirty seconds and the mains are up in ninety, " came the reply. "There's nothing I can do to speed up the QTD, it's gonna be another twelve minutes."

"Understood", said Ash, and switched back to Dexter. "Dex, we've gotta get outta here, man!"

"Okay, get free, but head for... ". There was a pause at the other end. "Head for outer cargo bay GA-212. We'll meet you there."

"Will do. Why there?"

"Because, it's the closest contact with the outside from where we are. Our friends are gonna catch up to us any minute. We can reach that bay in under three."

Ash consulted the flight computer's file on the star port's layout. "You're on the other end of the station from us now, Captain. I can be there in five. Can you handle them for those two extra minutes?"

"Please, Ash, you're asking me? I'm insulted. Now, there's no docking facility for a ship the size of the Ranger at this bay, and we can't exactly fight them off in spacesuits, you know. We'll have to use a vacuum breather extraction."

Ash grinned in spite of their situation. "Man, have you got balls, buddy. I'll see you there." "As soon as you're in position, we'll come aboard. Just watch the internal sensors for us, and get us the hell outta there as soon as we're aboard. Out."

"Fire control's up!" crowed Danny. "Take this, you fuckers!"

On the hull of the Ranger, 12 maser cannons rose out of recesses on gyroscopic mounts. Guided by Danny's enthusiastic hand, they began picking off their assailants one after another, the attackers burning to cinders as the beam weapons hit them. Danny watched with glee on the targeting sensors as they died in rapid succession. Having just come online, there wasn't much energy in the weapons system capacitors, and they went quickly into a recharge cycle. It'd be another 20 seconds before any of them could fire again. As he watched the remaining attackers with the PPA rifles running for it, Danny noticed a couple on the inside bulkhead of the docking bay, setting up a large device. His spine went cold as he realized what it was.

"Ash, they've got an antimatter cannon! We've gotta go now!"

"Fuck! The moorings haven't finished their release cycle!" said Jack.

"Go, dammit, or we're gonna die!"

"Hang on!" cried Ash.

Just as the sublight drive and the gravimetric field generators came online, Ash brought them to life. The GM field flared against the inner surfaces of the docking bay, forcing the ship away from its moorings. Metal screeched audibly even in the docking bay's tenuous atmosphere as clamps ripped apart and metal-fiber hoses snapped, spraying cryogenic fluids and liquid fuels into the bay. As the Ranger vaulted away from the bay, Ash brought the sublight drive to as much thrust as he dared near the space station, and the starship raced across its surface, heading for the other docking sphere and cargo bay GA-212.

Dex and Cole pounded down the corridor towards the cargo bay, hearing the sounds of pursuit close behind them. Trying to consult his net-comm as he ran, Dex shouted over his shoulder, "Turn here!" and dashed down a service tunnel to the right. Cole followed him, and dropped a stun grenade behind himself at the corner.

"Captain!" Cole shouted as they ran.

"Yeah?" came the winded reply. They were both running flat out, and still only keeping barely ahead of their hunters.

"I'm not too keen on this vacuum breather notion." Cole panted.

"Me neither. Got a better idea?"

"No."

"Didn't think so." They skidded to a halt outside a big pressure door. "Okay, this is it."

"Here we go." said Cole, and pried open the lock panel next to the door. After about 30 seconds of reconnecting cables and tripping circuits, the door slid open. "After you, Captain." he grinned.

Dex and Cole ran into the bay, Cole locking the door behind them. Cole ran to the bay's control panel and tore it open, setting up their end of the plan, while Dex got ready to defend them during the time they'd be stuck there. As he cast about for cover, weapons, or anything useful, Dex called the Freeport Ranger. "Ash, what's your status?"

"We took a bit of a pounding, but it's pretty superficial, we're on our way to you, we'll be there in one minute forty eight seconds. If this damn space station's superstructure was made out of something decent, we could be there alot faster, but as it is I can't turn the thrust up anymore without melting the station's hull."

"Well, I don't think any of us wants to kill a few thousand people if the hull breaches, so keep it where it is, we'll see you in two minutes." He stashed his net-comm back in its pocket. "Cole, how's it coming?"

"Ready here, Captain. How're we for cover?"

"Alot of nothing. Not even a dense material to use as a cover. Unless they're unarmed, we're fucked." Personal kinetic shields and EMP-sinks were great, and in a sudden one-on-one confrontation made most weapons except knives nearly obsolete. However, being caught by three or four times their number in an open space pretty much negated the devices' defensive effects. The attackers could simply saturate them with maser fire until their EMP-sinks overloaded.

"Well, then I suppose you're fucked, aren't you, Captain?"

Dex turned around in shock, dimly aware that Cole turned with him, jaw agape. In the observation deck overlooking the cargo bay, staring down at them through the composite windows, was Quentin Collins. His voice came again, over the bay's intercom.

"I must admit, Mr. Vaughn, I was surprised by your resourcefulness. I won't be making such a mistake again." As he spoke, a group of four Humans and three Garumen entered the cargo bay, all carrying maser pistols.

"What are you? We watched you die." said Dex, working hard to master his astonishment. He had to get a grip on things, had to make sure he bought the two minutes then needed, and make sure they were ready when the time came.

"Die? No, my dear Captain... what you saw was merely my escape route." said Collins archly.

"Fuck me..." breathed Cole, feeling sick. "You used a beam teleporter."

Dex felt his stomach churn, and choked back the urge to vomit. "You're insane... "

Along with all of the fantastic technologies that mankind learned were possible when the space station Gaea's microgee research lab mapped the wave function of the universe in 2240, there were some that science fiction had prophesized for centuries that had to be abandoned. The structure of the universe simply didn't permit them. And then there were some that straddled a grey area, because of Human sensibilities. True matter teleportation isn't possible; there's no way to "beam" something and have it reform in empty space. However, it is possible to map a body at the quantum level, and copy it freely in another location. The original would then be destroyed, to maintain continuity. Once proposed, no major corporation ever took up production of such a system, people found the notion revolting, to say the least. You wouldn't be you, just a copy that thinks it is, ran the reasoning. Only a madman would accept that kind of arrangement. If you're a madman, though, it apparently provides a faultless escape hatch.

"Come now, gentlemen. The part of me that is 'me' is still here, my memories and thoughts... As far as I'm concerned, that's all that counts. Now, to the heart of the matter... I didn't appreciate you killing my men, Mr. Vaughn, nor do I appreciate having my entertainment interrupted. That aside, I still require the services of Captain Logan for the Voracties' research project. I'm afraid you're coming with me. Guards, secure them."

Collins' cronies began to move forward, spreading out and trying to get Dex and Cole between them. Having lost them once, and having been led on a headlong chase through the space station, they weren't about to underestimate their quarry again. Dex and Cole stepped back, closer to the cargo bay's outer doors. Dex started to seriously fear for himself and his friend.

Then, as if by magic, the bay doors started to slide open. Suddenly, there was nothing but the bay's forcefield between them and the void of space.

"What the hell?" said Collins. His men paused in their advance, suddenly uncertain. "What are you waiting for? I said secure them!" The henchmen resumed their advance.

Then, from the net-comm in Cole's pocket, came a rhythmic beeping, that rapidly quickened in tempo. "Sorry, guys." said Dex, grinning evilly. "That'll be our ride." The beeping became a constant, high-pitched tone.

And outside the cargo bay, a starship shot into view, blasting its RCS thrusters and coming to a halt 20 meters from the open bay doors, its ventral cargo hatch facing the bay. The hatch doors were open.

"See you around, asshole!" cried Cole.

"SHIT!" Collins screamed, as what was about to occur became clear to him.

Cole's handiwork kicked in then. The control panel for the cargo bay erupted in a brilliant flare of sparks, exploding outward, and the forcefield at the cargo bay's open hatch vanished.

In a screaming whirlwind, the atmosphere blasted out of the bay, suddenly exposed to naked space. Everything in the bay that wasn't tied down shot out into the void. unsecured cargo containers, tool kits, antigrav pallets. and bodies.

Standing nearest the bay doors, Cole and Dex were blasted out into space first. Expecting the event, they'd quickly exhaled all the air from their lungs, to avoid a nasty instant death. If their lungs had been full of air, they'd have ruptured instantly. As it was, they had about nine seconds to live. They shot out towards the waiting open cargo bay of the Freeport Ranger.

I love you, Ash, thought Dex, hoping he wasn't saying goodbye. Don't let us down. He could feel his skin freezing, the capillaries in his hands and face bursting. Even with his eyes tightly shut, he could feel the fluid expanding in them. Any second they'd rupture.

Dex and Cole, first out of the cargo bay of the station, flew into the waiting bay of the Ranger. As they entered, the bridge crew detected their life signs, and activated the bay's hatch forcefield, and re-pressurized the bay. They also re-activated the bay's gravity field.

As he felt the flood of air and pressure around him, Dex slammed into the floor of the ship's cargo bay as gravity returned, breaking some ribs. Ignoring the flare of pain, he opened his eyes, fearing he'd be blind from the vacuum exposure; he was overjoyed to find he could see, though his vision was blurry. He panicked for a moment, as he appeared to be headed back to empty space. Then his brain caught up, and he realized he was laying against the forcefield for the cargo bay hatch. The bay doors were even now sliding shut beneath him. Looking outside, he saw Collins' cronies streaking towards his ship, shot out of the station's cargo bay after he and Cole. Being so close to the bay doors, he and Cole made it inside the ship in time to avoid the grisly death of explosive decompression in open space. Collins' men, ten meters further into the bay when they were expelled, didn't. The last thing Dex saw, before the ship's bay doors finished sliding shut, was the sight of seven bodies rupturing open in clouds blood, four red, three green, which instantly froze into shards of colored ice. Then he passed out.

Danny's console flashed the alert he'd be waiting for. "They're aboard. Re-pressurizing bay. Bringing the AG field online." He ran a quick check on the tactical sensors. "There's no sign of immediate pursuit."

"Understood. Stay sharp, `cause I'm sure that's gonna change. They didn't go to all this trouble for nothing." Ash said. He tapped his console's intercom control. "Stu, how long before we can execute a gate maneuver?"

"Nine minutes twelve seconds. Are we gonna be doing a rapid gate sequence?" A pursuing starship could determine their destination during a gate maneuver by scanning the gate itself, and analyzing its properties. To overcome this, a ship can perform two rapid, successive maneuvers, and have the second gate closed behind them before its pursuers have a chance to arrive from the origin point of the first gate. Once a gate has closed and dissipated, its destination can no longer be read. The difficulty is that firing the quantum translation drive in such rapid succession generated a tremendous amount of thermal exhaust, and was pretty tough on the drive itself. "We didn't get a chance to finish our thermal dumps, Ash. We can manage two gates, barely, if the first one's a short trip, say five light-years. Over that, we'll be in trouble." There were equal parts concern and threat in his voice, like a parent who's kid might crash the family's flitter while he's learning to fly it.

"Don't worry, bro. I won't hurt your baby." In spite of the tension, Ash grinned. Stu's attitude towards the Ranger was not unlike Dex's. In fact, Stu likely loved the old girl more. His thoughts returned to the situation at hand. "Jack, get down to the cargo bay and get Dex and Cole into medical, then get back up here."

"You got it." Jack unstrapped himself from his seat and headed for the bridge's hatch.

"Hurry Jack, they're gonna be after us any-" said Danny. Then his instruments bleeped an alarm at him. "Any time now. Ash, we've gotta go now. Company's coming."

"We're outta here." Ash vaulted the Ranger away from station using the gravimetric field. Bringing the ship around to an oblique angle to the star port using the RCS thrusters, he brought the sublight drive up to 80% output. The Ranger shot away from the massive space station, heading for a high polar orbit, then out of the orbital plane of the star system. He consulted his astrogation program. "We'll be far enough outside Haven's gravity well to gate in. seven minutes. Then we just have to wait for the engines." He made a few course adjustments. "Danny, do you have an ID on our new friends?" Ash looked over his shoulder at his friend, and was immediately alarmed. Danny, who was one of the coolest customers under pressure that Ash knew, had a look of intense concentration on his face, along with concern that bordered on panic. "What is it?" Ash asked, not sure he wanted the answer.

Danny didn't even look up when he answered, so intent was he on his instruments. "Good news and bad news. I've gotten an ID on our pursuers. They're three Voracite Raptor class starfighters. They'll be in striking range in four minutes." He paused as he entered more commands into his console.

Ash wasn't in the mood for suspense. "What the fuck is the good news!"

"That was the good news. The bad news is that they've got backup. What appears to be a small Voracite armada is emerging from a wormhole a million kilometers sunward of Haven's orbit, rapidly approaching. I'm getting hundreds of overlapping readings, maybe thousands."

Ash didn't even need to look around at his crewmate. He could tell from Danny's tone that there was more. "And.?"

"And, the Space-Eater's altering its distortion field profile. They're using it to generate a phased interference field, projecting it around Haven and expanding outward, in a cone profile, for at least twelve million kilometers."

Ash did look back at him then. Danny met his gaze. "In other words," Ash said, "we can't gate away now."

"Nope. Their lead ships will be within range of us before we make it to the edge of the distortion field." Danny checked his console again. "The first three fighters are closing."

"Charge the hull's valency generators, and bring weapons online. When they're in range, fire at will. We'll worry about our escape route in a minute. Right now, it's time to dance."

Jack Carrin sprinted down the corridor towards the cargo bay. He was only 5'11", but his long, thickly muscled legs ate up the distance as he ran, despite the 195 pounds he carried. He'd once had to endure a partial decompression when a shuttle pod he was in had suffered a hull breach, and remembered the fear and pain he'd suffered before they'd made it into the ship's cargo bay. He'd thought he was going to die. His Captain and crewmate, his friends, had suffered hard vacuum for almost eight seconds. Sweat beaded on the dark brown skin of his shaved head as he ran faster. Suddenly, he found himself standing at the hatch to the cargo bay. He keyed it open, ran inside, and stopped in his tracks.

There, on the cargo bay floor, were Dex and Cole, and they didn't look good. Red blotches on their faces and hands indicated places the capillaries had ruptured under their skin. They were covered in a film of frost, a legacy of their time spent in the tremendously icy embrace of space. For a moment, Jack feared he was too late, then he realized he could hear them breathing, their teeth chattering. As if to prod him to action, Dex groaned and tried to sit up. Jack hurried to his side, pressing a hand against Dex's muscled chest, gently pushing him back to the floor. Damn, he's freezing. Gotta get a thermal blanket for them. "Captain, can you hear me? Stay here. I've gotta get you two warmed up before we move you." He wasn't sure if Dex heard him or not, but the Captain didn't try to rise again. Jack ran to one of the supply lockers on the aft bulkhead of the cargo bay, and pulled out a pair of thermal blankets. Setting their temperature controls to several degrees above room temperature, he laid one over each man, and tucked the edges around their bodies. After several tense moments, the two men seemed to be coming around.

"Jack?" croaked Dex. "What's. happening? Are. are we. away?" He tried to sit up again, this time managing to prop himself up on his elbows. Next to him, Cole was likewise beginning to move. Both men were breathing easier now, and their teeth had stopped chattering.

"We're working on it, Captain. We've got company on the way, but Ash and Danny are on the bridge, taking care of it. As soon as I get you two into the med bay, I'm headed back up there, too."

"Fuck." Dex paused to cough, and then continued, his voice stronger already. "Fuck the med bay. If my ship's in trouble, I belong on the bridge."

"Ditto," said Cole. "My Danny-boy's a good shot, but it's not his job, it's mine, and I'm better at it."

Jack grunted as he helped Dex to his feet, "You two are going to the med bay, if I have to knock your asses out and carry you there. We'll keep an open comm line for you, but you're in no condition to do your jobs, either one of you. Now, are you two OK to move?"

Cole had managed to stand under his own power, though he badly swayed on his feet. "Yeah, I think so. Captain?" Dex nodded.

"OK," said Jack. "Let's go."

The three of them began making their way towards the med bay. They weren't even out of the cargo bay when the ship lurched from the first volley of incoming weapons fire.

The Freeport Ranger shot over Haven's north pole, describing a gentle arc through the planet's near-orbit space. Less than ten kilometers behind her, the three Voracite starfighters, sleek and menacing in appearance, raced after, their weapons taking a few precious seconds to recharge after their first successful volley. Suddenly, the Ranger's thrusters fired, spinning the starship along its horizontal axis, leaving it facing nearly head on to Haven, still coasting along her original course, at a right angle to her current orientation. The maser cannons along her ventral side fired, having been brought into position by the ship's rotation, all four of them striking their target. One of the pursing starfighters blazed into a cloud of vapor, debris, and plasma, its hull's valency generators overcome by the multi-terawatt output of the starship's weapons. The Ranger's main sublight drive roared to life at almost the same instant her weapons fired, sending the ship racing towards the boundaries of Haven's upper atmosphere. The remaining two starfighters, completely unprepared for the borderline insanity of this maneuver, were caught flatfooted, and overshot the Ranger by nearly 650 kilometers before they could slow down and begin to come about for another pass.

On the starship's bridge, Danny Williams was also unprepared for it.

"What the bloody fuck are you doing?" he shouted at Ash, as he recalibrated the masers for multi-target point defense functions. The starfighters would almost certainly make use of their higher-yield guided combat torpedoes on their next pass. The masers would attempt to shoot them down. He also charged up the Ranger's own GCT launchers, as well as the mid-range rail guns. One thing's for sure, he thought. Dex doesn't skimp on the defensive systems.

"Saving our asses! I'll worry about flying, you worry about shooting!" retorted Ash, his hands working rapidly and steadily at his controls. None of his movements betrayed the desperation he was feeling. We're in serious trouble this time. Dex, buddy, why'd you have to go and get yourself fucked up? You're the plan making man. we need you! Angling the starship by thirty degrees to her previous course, he fervently hoped that his off-the-cuff calculations were right, or instead of giving them a chance of escape, his maneuver would seal their doom. In point of fact, calling his course settings calculations at all was stretching the truth to the limit. It was almost pure instinct. Now, though, the rational part of his mind was catching up to his gut's decisions. "As long as we don't get too deep into Haven's gravity well, we should be able to skim the ionosphere, and the static buildup on the hull will distort their GCTs' tracking sensors. And, we'll get a velocity boost, from gravity acceleration."

"Yeah, great. Just how deep can we get at this velocity? If we get too deep, the gravity well will collapse our power core's vacuum energy matrix, and we'll lose everything; weapons, life support, propulsion. We'll drop like a stone!" said Danny, as he adjusted the Ranger's sensor suite to track the incoming armada. The lead attack ships were rapidly closing on Haven, and there were ships in the vanguard much larger than starfighters. Any one of the larger ships would be more than a match for any independent civilian starship, even one as well decked out as the Freeport Ranger. This doesn't make any sense at all, he thought. Why the fuck would they invade a star system like Haven? The reason it's still independent at all is that everyone benefits from having it around. Governments have all the miscreants in one place, and they can get dirty deeds done if they need them. A move this aggressive against an independent world by the Voracites will have every sovereign power in the galaxy set against them. As the ship slammed into the outer edges of Haven's atmosphere, the roaring whine of superheated air streaming past the hull broke Danny from his train of thought. "Well, how deep can we go, according to your, please let it be, careful course calculations?"

"Well, it's not really a matter of calculation," said Ash.

"What do you mean?"

"I picked our course more on instinct."

"Fuck!"

As Jack secured Cole and the Captain into berths in the med bay, the ship began to rumble, and a strange, whistling sound became audible. At the same time, the lights flickered. "What the hell is that?" Jack asked. He ran to the med bay's computer interface and set up the AI to treat vacuum exposure.

"How the fuck should we know? But I mean to find out." said Dex. He reached over his head onto the bulkhead over his berth, and tapped the comm panel control for the bridge. "Ash, what the hell are you doing to my starship?"

"Dex! You're OK! I was worried there for a minute."

"Yeah, well, I'm worried now. What's that sound?"

Danny's voice came over the comm in answer. "That, Captain, would be the sound of Haven's ionosphere against the hull as we plow through it."

Dex fought back the urge to swear. He had no idea of the situation, was in no position to make command decisions. He had to trust his crew, and his partner. Ash was an able commander, and a pilot of nearly supernatural skills. Could there be something to what Collins was saying? Dex thought. I wish we'd had more time to talk with him. I've got nothing but questions now. "Ash. I trust you, man. Just don't make us dead, OK?"

"I'll do my best, Captain. In the meantime, Jack, we could use you back up here, pronto."

"On my way." Jack headed for the hatch. "You two will be OK?"

"Oh, yeah, peachy," growled Cole. "Tell Danny the rail guns have been .04 seconds out of sync with the targeting computer on my last couple diagnostics, so he'll have to track ahead of his targets a few meters."

"Will do, Cole. Gotta go." He ran through the hatch, headed for the bridge.

"Captain?"

"Yeah, Cole?"

"What's happening? I don't mean just this attack, I mean. well, you know? What the fuck is happening? None of this makes any sense."

"I've no idea. but I have the feeling our lives just got way, way more complicated."

"Ash, what the hell are you doing up there? I'm getting power drains from every combat and drive system! The valency generators can't keep this up much longer!"

"Sorry Stu, we've only got about three minutes of this left. She can handle that much longer, I'm sure." Ash replied, keeping a careful eye on their course. His instincts had been dead on; they'd clear the planet intact, keeping just barely out of the point-of-no-return of Haven's gravity well. The two closest starfighters had already fired again, four times, and the electromagnetic field from the ion cloud built up around the Ranger's hull had indeed confounded the torpedoes' tracking sensors. Now, the only concerns were whether or not the ship could survive its journey through the atmosphere. That, and the incoming horde of Voracite starships that would be very, very close when they came away from Haven.

Jack dashed onto the bridge in time to hear Ash's last remark, and securing himself at the Engineering station, he punched up the ship's current status information. "Maybe she can, Ash. Hull temperature is 2500 C and climbing. We'll need to find more energy to divert to the valency generators, and even then it's gonna be a close call. Stu, what can you give me?" Jack began re-routing power from less essential systems as he awaited Stu's reply. There weren't any non-essential systems left online at that point.

"We can power down some of the masers, they take the least amount of time to recharge."

"I'm on it," came Jack's reply. "By the way, Danny, Cole says the targeting computer's out of sync with the rail guns by .04 seconds. You'll have to track ahead." Danny nodded.

"Great," growled Ash, "more good news. Danny, scan that distortion field for me. how long `til we reach the edge once we come away from Haven?" asked Ash, as he ran his own calculations through the flight computer. Please, please let us have enough of a head start.

"Checking," replied Danny. The Ranger's computers were top-of-the-line, and it only took a few seconds to run the projections. "We'll be free to gate about three and a half minutes after we clear the atmosphere. We're already on an optimum course for the nearest edge of the field. Plus, with the velocity boost from Haven's gravity, we're far enough ahead of the starfighters that they won't be able to fire on us again before we're away. You know, Ash, even after all this time, you still amaze me sometimes." He grinned at the pilot.

"Yeah, well, don't celebrate yet," said Ash. The flight computer had finished running his own calculations. "The leading two Voracite starships will be on top of us when we cross the planet's ecliptic, halfway to our gate maneuver. We're not outta the woods yet," he said grimly.

As Ash had been dropping the bomb on them, Danny had been using the tactical sensors to verify the data. Not that he'd really expected Ash to be wrong. "Confirmed," he said, his heart sinking. "They'll be in weapons range in two minutes." After the pounding the hull VGs had taken just getting them through the ionosphere, there was no way they could take any sustained weapons fire. Then he noticed what the bulk of the armada was up to. "Oh, no." he breathed.

"What now?" asked Jack, as he finished equalizing the power flows, keeping the valency generators functioning. We're going to need a serious overhaul after this one, he thought.

"The rest of the incoming fleet. most of them are taking up orbital bombardment positions. And the rest are surrounding the star port," said Danny. "They're firing!"

"On screen!" commanded Ash.

On the bridge's main viewer came the image of Haven's gigantic orbital star port, currently under the fire of dozens of Voracite starships. The space station wasn't designed to withstand such an assault; such blatant and brute force simply wasn't used against non-military stations, since they were far more valuable when captured intact. Brilliant beams of energy stabbed at the station in scores of places, and within the maelstrom of light could be seen the bright and swift moving points of CGT drive exhausts. In mere moments, the station was hulled in dozens of places. The rents in its outer hull going many decks deep in some areas, huge plumes of atmosphere were vented into space, along with debris, and hundreds and hundreds of bodies. The force of the great jets of escaping atmosphere wrenched the station off its rotational axis, the wobble slight at first, but becoming more pronounced with each passing moment. Several of the Voracite starships fired again.

"What're they doing? This is insane!" cried Jack.

The second volley of fire blasted open the docking sphere nearest the attacking ships, rupturing and igniting fuel lines. The conflagration detonated the fuel cells on several dozen starships that were in dock, along with scores of service vehicles and smaller spacecraft. The force of the combined blast knocked the station out of its orbital track, and it began a graceful and deadly descent into the planet's atmosphere. It would be only a matter of minutes, perhaps half an hour, before gravity and atmospheric turbulence tore the station into a million fragments, and every living thing inside it died. There were at least several hundred thousand sentient beings inside it, probably over a million. The crew of the Freeport Ranger watched in abject horror, unable to do a damn thing to stop it.

The blare of the proximity alarms tore the bridge crew from the sight of the doomed station. Danny switched the view over to the new inputs from the sensor suite. "They're on us! The lead ships are breaking formation, headed right for us." On the view, two vicious looking red and black Voracite cruisers loomed. They were only slightly larger than the Ranger, but designed for combat and far more deadly. Danny's console flashed a new alert at him. "Ash, we're being hailed."

In spite of the crisis, Ash paused, and looked up. Voracites wanting to talk to their prey? This is different, and anything different from normal means a possible opportunity. This could buy us a little time. "Open the channel."

"It's a visual transmission. I'll put it up on the main viewer," replied Danny. There was a slight pause, and then a quiet bleep from his controls. "Channel open."

On the main screen, the cruel visage of a hulking, muscled Voracite male was picked out in sharp relief by the harsh lighting preferred in their species' starship design. "Human vessel Freeport Ranger, you are commanded to come to a full stop and power down. You will comply immediately or we will destroy you."

"Voracite commander, on who's authority do you issue these commands? We are a free-trader starship, in service to no government, but registered with the Alliance of Human Worlds. We are based in the Alliance system of New Columbia and are not part of the military body of Haven. We've no part in your military action here, and expect to be treated with diplomatic courtesy." Ash didn't expect his request to get him squat, but it should buy a little time if the Voracite was willing to talk, and it couldn't hurt.

"You were given your choice, Human. Make it now. In a moment, I'm making it for you." The Voracite's transmission ended abruptly.

"Shit!" swore Ash. "Well, that went well. Danny, how much time did we gain? How long `til the field boundary?"

"Only one minute fifteen seconds."

"I think we're gonna make it after all," said Ash.

Suddenly, the tactical programs running on Danny's console rang out with alarms. "They're firing!" he cried. "Six incoming CGTs, impact in forty seconds! They're already loading the launchers for a second wave!"

Time seemed to slow down for Ash. The seconds ticking over took an eternity, but he knew that they'd still be dead when the clock hit zero. The match didn't lie, and there were no tricks left up his sleeve, nothing he could think of to save them. He looked around the bridge, meeting the gazes of his crewmates, and found no accusation in their eyes. They knew he'd done his best. The loved him, and he them. They were like a family. Family. Oh, Dex, I'm sorry man, he thought. I'm sorry I've let you down. He knew there was nothing more he could've done, but he felt a tremendous wave of guilt just the same. We didn't even get to say goodbye, man. The sound of Danny's voice floated to him, calmly calling out their impending doom.

"Thirty-five seconds."

Ash couldn't help thinking of the "maybes" and "what- ifs" of it all. What if he'd still been closer to our side of the station? What if the armada had been just two minutes later in arriving? What if we'd been carrying less mass so our thrust would be more effective? What if. and then it hit him. Mass! Time started to speed up again, and he heard Danny, still counting down to their deaths.

"Thirty seconds," he said, eerily calm in the face of certain doom.

Not so certain now! Ash thought. "Jack! Seal all the hatches to the cargo bay, and super-pressurize it. Bring it up to at least two atmospheres. And keep an eye on the hull VG outputs!"

Jack didn't even bother to wonder about the why of it. It was a plan of action, and any kind of plan is better than doing nothing when you've only got thirty seconds to live.

"Twenty-five seconds!" called Danny, suddenly a frantic edge to his voice. The glimmer of hope he found in Ash's voice had kicked him back into overdrive.

"Danny! Deactivate the magnetic skids for the all cargo containers of quartz. Open the cargo hatch and deactivate the artificial gravity in the hold! Be ready to kill the bay's forcefield on my mark!" ordered Ash.

"Aye," Danny called back, and only a few brief moments passed before he called out, "Done! Impact in twenty seconds!"

"Hang on!" cried Ash.

Ash cut the thrust from the main sublight drive, and fired nearly all the ships RCS thrusters, his instincts again taking over as he keyed the thrusters' firing sequence. The Ranger spun madly about all three of its axes, her trajectory unchanged. It was a pilot's nightmare, getting the ship's attitude stabilized again an apparently monumental task. But this wasn't any pilot; it was Ashley Garret.

A ship's gravimetric field, along with the hull's molecular valency generators, was greatly responsible for maintaining the spacecraft's structural integrity, particularly during high-stress maneuvers. With the AG field in the cargo hold shut down, and the hold occupying a large percentage of the ship's volume, situated at its center, the stresses on the rest of the ship's structure were enormous. The valency generators, already overtaxed, hummed audibly with the effort of keeping the ship together, and some of them overloaded in brilliant showers of sparks and plasma. The gravimetric field altered its profile to compensate, switching to maintaining the ship's integrity rather than inertial compensation and maintaining the remaining interior gravity fields. The crew's stomachs lurched as they were hurled against their seat restraints violently, the gravity in the various compartments fluctuating wildly. Inside the cargo hold, the unsecured cargo containers flew about the place, cracking against bulkheads and each other. They smashed apart, spilling their contents to careen freely about the zero gee environment hold.

"Ten seconds to impact!" cried Danny, the muscles in his arms and shoulders bunching as he held himself erect at his station, fighting the brutal and dizzying g-forces.

Ash, also held at his station by force of will and muscle, again fired the RCS thrusters in a perfectly coordinated, and once again entirely instinctive, pattern that halted the Ranger's mad spinning. The ship, still on its original vector, now had her ventral surface facing the oncoming torpedoes.

"Lower the hold forcefield!" he shouted.

As Danny executed the command, the super-pressurized hold blasted its contents into space. Flooding out of the cargo hatch, carried by the force of the blast, came 700,000 kilograms of quartz, the fragments of rock spreading into a more or less spherical debris field, carried by the cloud of dispersing atmosphere.

Ash spun the ship again, through ninety degrees of rotation, and kicked in the sublight drive. They raced back along their original course, accelerating hard.

Only a few hundred meters behind them, the incoming CGTs plowed into the debris field. At the high velocities torpedoes move, even a lump of quartz traveling at only a few dozen meters per second produces a significant impact. The torpedoes, every one of them, were torn open and their warheads detonated automatically in a pre-programmed last ditch effort to effect some damage. A blindingly bright field of plasma expanded out from the centers of the explosions, violently sweeping the debris field away, and screening the Ranger from the sensors of the Voracite starship for a few more precious seconds.

On the bridge, the crew was tossed in their seats as the ships lurched from the leading shockwave of the torpedoes destruction. Please, baby, we're almost home. Ash thought. He punched the intercom. "Stu! Are we intact for a gate maneuver?" he called down.

"Ready! The Drive's at full power, and the hull should be able to take it; we've still got enough valency generators online. We're already at sufficient velocity to gate!"

"We're clear! We're outside the distortion field!" cried Danny.

"Initiating translation gate!"

Ahead of the Ranger, the ship's Quantum Translation Drive focused an energy field to near infinite density, taking advantage the peculiar effects of quantum entanglement and tunneling to create a distortion in space. Forced into being by energies pouring out into the higher dimensions of space-time, an area was created with quantum field properties that were in absolute concert with an area of space, equal in geometry and volume, that was forming several light years away, in a direct line from the Ranger's heading. Once the distortion was stable, any matter or energy that passed through that area of space, on the proper heading, would be translated immediately to the destination gate, through the miracles of quantum physics. Anything crossing the gate's boundaries at any kind of angle would be lost to the unknowable reaches of higher dimensions, forever displaced from the universe.

The Ranger passed through the gate, her gravimetric field shutting down nanoseconds before the translation, to avoid disruptions in the gate. The Voracite starships, still screened from the Ranger by the expanding plasma wave from their detonated weapons, didn't get a chance to scan the gate before it dissipated completely.

The Freeport Ranger was lost to them.

Quentin Collins walked down the corridors of the Voracite Command Cruiser, trying to ignore the presence of the hulking, muscle-bound guards at his side. In another time and place, they could be. diverting, he thought. Perhaps I should've programmed one of these magnificent brutes to fight Logan. Collins had no preferences or prejudices when it came to species; he just liked a good specimen. The sleek, muscled masculinity of the Voracites appealed to him. Stop this! Focus, or they're going to eat you alive, literally!

It had been a near thing, his escape from Haven's doomed star port. Luckily, he'd been near enough to his starship to get away. Even more luckily, he'd been given Voracite transponder codes, so they didn't blast him out of space the moment their sensors detected him. Somewhat less luckily, His course away from the station had intersected Frax's ship's course, and he'd been ordered to fall into formation and dock with the Command Cruiser. He'd briefly toyed with the notion of trying to get away, but in the middle of a distortion field, and surrounded by borderline hostile vessels, there really wasn't anywhere to go. He'd docked as ordered with the Fierce Hunter, and had been informed by the guards that Lord Frax and Commander Hurrig awaited him. They'd lapsed then into silence, which was fine with Collins, and started the long hike through the stark interior of the starship to the bridge. Which, Collins noticed, they'd apparently arrived at. A large hatch confronted him, and the guards took up position on either side.

"Enter," one of them commanded.

"Thank you," replied Collins smoothly. He wasn't about to let them see him the slightest bit ruffled. Showing weakness or fear could be a deadly mistake when dealing with a cultural psychology like the Voracites'. He stepped up to the hatch, which slid aside as the sensors detected his presence. He stepped inside.

It wasn't the bridge.

Inside the chamber was a central seat, over which hung a boom, clearly articulated and remote controllable. The end of the boom had what appeared to be various medical apparatus, except to Collins eyes they looked far more menacing, and he had no doubt as to their functions. To one side of the device stood Frax and a Voracite that Collins took to be Commander Hurrig.

"Human, you will be seated," said Frax without preamble.

"If it's all the same to you," he replied dryly, "I'd rather have the opportunity to tell you whatever it is you want to know from here. If you dislike what I have to say, or don't believe me, then by all means. let the games begin." He gestured expansively to the chair. He had no doubt at all that the hunters would much rather slice him to pieces to wring what they wanted out of him, and might in fact still do so whether or not he freely told them what they wanted. However, he was hoping he still had a card left to play.

"It is not `the same' to me. You have failed us, and I am less interested in your explanations and excuses than in the compensation you will provide by way of amusement and pleasure," Frax said, the corners of his snout glistening as he began to salivate.

"I feel no need to offer explanations, I wasn't responsible for their escape, at least not as much as you were." He smiled. "Additionally, I'm far more valuable to you alive than dead."

"I must credit you Human. you are audacious. You dare to lay the blame for your failure at our feet?" asked Hurrig.

"Once I'd secured him, my task was done, save delivering him to you. You, as far as I had been aware, were taking responsibility for securing the station. Speaking of which, by the way, I was also under the impression that I was to be alerted before your fleet's attack. I nearly didn't make it out of the station alive."

"Our bargain was broken when you allowed him to escape you," replied Frax.

" I did not allow him to escape, he had assistance. He had assistance that came from inside the station, presumably from someone with access to the station's computer command network, which means a station crewmember. My area was as secure as I could make it." Collins didn't betray the slightest hint of the lie. He even controlled his pheromone levels, because a change in his scent would give him away to the sharp senses of the hunters.

"And do you have any indication of whom this help was?" asked Frax.

"No, I didn't have time to find out, I was busy fleeing for my life. And as you obliterated the station, we'll never know, will we?" he asked sharply. He quickly diverted the conversation. "In any event, you had a number of starfighters at the station, and enough starships and firepower to sterilize a world. Why didn't you recapture him? You most certainly caught up to him before he escaped your translation gate suppression field, didn't you?"

"The Human in command proved unusually resourceful. As this seems to support your selection of them as a high potential candidate for our research, we are somewhat less inclined to eviscerate you at present." Frax grinned evilly. "But, do not fail me in this next endeavor, or no amount of logic and usefulness will keep your skin on your bones."

Collins had no doubt at all the Frax spoke literal truth. "As you say. What is it you want of me?"

Frax told him.

In the cold depths of interstellar space, a two- dimensional continuum distortion appeared. In the a few nanoseconds, its phase stabilized, and from the boiling energies of its surface emerged a starship. Quickly decelerating, it allowed the gate behind it to close and dissipate. Extending thermal exhaust radiators, which glowed bright red from the built up heat, and activating the ship's external sensors, the crew of the Freeport Ranger took stock of their surroundings.

"Ash, we've got to completely radiate this thermal buildup, or the system's gonna fail during our next gate maneuver. It'll be about fifty minutes," came Stu's voice over the intercom.

"Don't worry, we've got the time to spare now. There's no way they could follow us through that gate sequence," said Ash with confidence. Now, he thought, all I have to face is Dex, explaining the damage I did to his ship. Ash grinned. "Secure your stations, guys, and engage the AI monitoring programs. We've gotta get going on what repairs we can make without needing to dock."

Jack and Danny set about securing their stations, and in a moment the trio were headed away from the bridge, towards the aft sections of the starship.

"Jack, you head back and coordinate with Stu, get the repairs under way. We'll join you in a moment, first we've gotta get Cole and the Captain out of the med bay. The AI should've finished treating the worst of their injuries by now, assuming it wasn't knocked offline during our escape. They should be able to move to their cabins now."

"Sure thing, Ash," said Jack with a grin. "I'll look for you two in half an hour or so." He strode off, headed for the drive bay.

"I'll have to speak with the Captain about crew discipline," said Ash. "That implication was most unprofessional."

"Well," laughed Danny as they reached the med bay, "it's not as if they couldn't make their own way, if they have treated." He keyed open the hatch.

"Mr. Williams, our crewmates could be lying in there, near to death. It's our duty to check on them." Ash managed to keep the grin off his face, but he couldn't keep it out of his voice or his eyes.

"Aye, sir," Danny deadpanned.

"It's about fucking time you got your sorry asses down here!"

"Hi, Cole. Glad you're OK," said Danny, smiling. He moved over to his friend, who was disengaging himself from the med bay berth, and engulfed him in a fierce hug. "Damn, bro, it's glad to see you." He let his friend go, and turned to his Captain. "Are you OK, Captain?"

Dex, who'd also come to his feet, was standing with an arm around Ash. "Yeah, thanks, Danny. Why don't you help Cole to his quarters? Then give the others a hand with repairs. I think Cole could use some downtime. After you're finished join us in the drive bay."

"Cole's not the only one who needs some downtime, Dex. You're gonna rest up a few hours in your quarters. That's an order. sir," Ash said with a grin.

"He's right, Captain," said Cole. "Come on Danny, you can fill me in on all the ways you fucked up my tactical systems on the way," he said, punching Danny in the shoulder. They walked out together, arms around each other's shoulders.

"You know, I don't think I've ever seen two men who're closer friends," observed Dex. They left the med bay, headed for Dex's quarters. "It's good to see such devotion in my crew. You know we can count on each other in the thick of it."

"True," said Ash, "except for the part about not knowing two men who're closer."

"I meant other than us."

Ash laughed. "Damn, stud. I thought our goose was finally cooked there. Next time, don't get yourself laid up during a battle. I almost didn't get us out of it." He stopped, and threw his arms around the muscled torso of his friend, his partner, his Captain. He hugged him tightly. "I love you, Dex."

"I didn't doubt for a moment that you'd save us, Ash. I have faith in you." He paused a moment, thinking of what Quentin Collins had said. Do I tell him? Do I even believe there's anything to tell?

"What is it?" asked Ash, sensing a change come over Dex. He pulled away a bit.

"Nothing, Ash. And I love you, too," said Dex. He pulled Ash close to him, and engulfed him in his own embrace, reveling in the feel of Ash's hard muscles against his own. He tilted Ash back slightly, brought his mouth up, and kissed him deeply. Ash answered without words. After a moment, they resumed their walk to the Captain's cabin. Neither of them spoke, simply reveling in each other's presence, and in the fact they were alive and well. In a couple minutes they stood outside the hatch to Dex's quarters.

"You really should just get some rest, Dex. I can catch you up on things later. We'll be fine handling the repairs."

"I'm sure you will be, but I need some more help first," said Dex with a mischievous grin.

"You're supposed to be getting rest, Captain Sir, " replied Ash, his own grin rising.

"Well, I think after all the excitement, I'll be needing some kind of sleep aid. A release of tension, if you will. And I think it's your duty to provide it, crewman Garret." Dex opened his hatch, pulling Ash in after him. He slowly peeled his shirt off over his head, revealing the powerful, chiseled muscles of his upper body. He started to undo the catch on his pants.

"Aye aye, sir!" said Ash with a salute, and then peeled off his own shirt. He was built as powerfully as his mate, his skin a few shades lighter. He stepped forward, taking Dex's hand away from his pants and placing it on his thick chest. He flexed a bit, and pulled Dex to him, enjoying the heat of their hard bodies together. "Slowly, Dex. this is supposed to be relaxing, remember?" His grin widened. "Let me do the work."

"No argument there, stud," replied Dex, his voice a throaty growl.

In moments, they were lost in the bliss of each other. If only it could last forever.

Of course, nothing is forever.

END PART ONE

Copyright 2003 Frank Dennis

If you've enjoyed this tale, let me know! Send feedback to

FrankDennis@indy.rr.com . Any suggestions or criticisms

are welcomed! Part two is on its way within a few weeks!!

Now, for acknowledgements and thank-yous:

To Peter F. Hamilton, who's writings showed me that

spaceship dogfights can be realistic AND exciting, and who gave me the idea for valency generators instead of the tired old cliche of "shields". (For you boys who don't know, a co-

valent bond is a very strong type of bond between atoms,

hence, "valency generators" make the material they're

affecting much stronger than nature ever could).

To my close friends who read this as I wrote it, giving me

ideas and suggestions.

And finally, a thank you to all the writers who've never had

a heroic central character who was gay. All the ones I've

encountered so far in literature have been either tragic or comic. I got tired of waiting for an ass-kicking gay action

hero, so I decided to write some myself.