"Tregare." Rissa caught at his sleeve. "Does that give you a thought?"

  "Let's see if it's the same one. We take Renalie out of the middle of our dish, put all five squadrons on the perimeter-

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  still holding about the same overall shape as now. They come with the cone-we open out, let it go through our empty center and rake hell out of it on an outside pass. And then-"

  "That is what I had thought, Tregare. But-there is more?"

  "We want even slower relative speed than I'd intended- well, Ressider's plan just might get it for us. Because-then we turn back to the cone as quick as we can. Before they can invert it, with luck-and catch Ozzie without his screen of unarmed expendables."

  Ragan nodded. "If you're fast, you could do it. So far as I know, he maneuvers his formations as units-which is to say, rather than invert his cone, he'd try to turn it."

  "Which will take him hell and forever!" said Zelde M'tana. "Ragan-anytime you'd like to come have a drink here on Valkyrie, don't wait for an invitation. You've got it!"

  following lunch, Ragan returned to Loose Goose. In Control, after ordering max decel, Tregare fidgeted. Rissa asked, "What is wrong, Bran? Have you thought of something we overlooked?"

  "No-no, it's just that we must be in detection range by now-from the Luna spotters, if not from Earth. But-nothing's happening."

  He called Loose Goose and put his question. Ragan said, "What did you expect? Ozzie to spot us and lift fleet five minutes later?"

  "Peace take it, that's what we'd have done at Stronghold!"

  "Earth isn't Stronghold, Tregare-and Ozzie Newhausen isn't you. Don't worry-a few more hours and you'll see the hornets swarming from their nest."

  "Well, I wish they'd get to it. Anyway-thanks, Ragan."

  The screen went dark. Rissa said, "You are so eager for the fighting?"

  They walked out of the Control room, and downship. "Eager? Hell-I'm scared enough to piddle!"

  "You, Bran?" She looked at him. "When Peralta attacked, tried to cook you like a sausage, you wasted no thought on fear. Nor at the ambush on Stronghold. I-"

  "Wasn't time for it then, either case. This waiting ..."

  "Is it-like Ivan, perhaps-the going back to where those who hurt you-?"

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  "No. That ghost died with Arger Korbeith-I told him it would." He frowned. "It's-there's so damned much, riding all on this one try."

  "But all along, you have known this."

  "And was working for it-preparing-busy. Now it's done, all I can do is wait-and wonder what mistakes I won't discover until too late."

  His laugh carried no amusement. "Tregare the pirate, come to challenge all Earth? Little boy grown up to tackle his wildest dreams-or did I grow up? I wonder . . ." He shook his head. "Oh, let's go get some coffee."

  She took his arm. "Not coffee-for now, wine is better. In our quarters-I will open a fresh bottle, I think. And then, perhaps..."

  He looked down to her, and now he could smile. "Yes, Rissa-you're right."

  And after the wine, after the love, he said, "You ever think you should've been a doctor? Your prescriptions really do the job."

  "You feel better now, do you, Bran?" Smiling, seeing the relaxed vigor of his face, she said it.

  "I feel so good you wouldn't believe it. Until a little later, maybe."

  more than a day later, ships rose from Earth. No accurate count could be made-individual blips were indistinct, fading in and out-but the screen shimmered and the shimmer moved slowly out from the planet. Tregare watched closely, occasionally glancing at his watch.

  The crucial hour passed, then another minute, and part of another. Rissa bit her knuckles. "Bran! None have turned aside-has the plan failed?"

  He took her hand. "Wait-we're still not down to planets' time-not quite." Then: "There they go! Peace under pressure, some are Escaping! Look, Rissa-can you get any idea how many?"

  "No-not really. But-another, and two more! It is not finished yet, Tregare. And on those ships, men are dying ..."

  "Have died," he said. "Minutes ago it happened, what we're seeing now." Still they watched. Belatedly, two blips left the shimmering cluster-and one more, and then none.

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  Now they waited for sign of ships dropping behind the fleet, coasting with drives silent. "We won't see those for a while," said Tregare. "Ozzie's coming almost straight at us-any that stalemated are hidden behind him."

  "Is it too soon to begin Ressider's plan-make them turn to chase and meet you? The dead ships, drifting straight ahead-"

  "Sure-that's it. Let me check." He punched keys and scanned the readout. "We can start it. Have to keep varying the thrust angle anyway-I'll start heavy and ease off later, as need be." On squadron broadcast he gave orders; on the screen Rissa saw how the entire formation, still pointing toward Earth, began a sidewise drift.

  "We're heading straight up," said Tregare. "North from the ecliptic. Easier to keep track of Earth that way, than if we went to one side or the other."

  "Tregare-what of our planned timing?"

  He looked at her. "What? Oh-I get it. Don't worry- there's plenty of leeway before Dacia arrives in the scout- withLisele."

  "Then as you say, I shall not worry."

  Two fleets swinging to the "North"-Tregare's slowing, UET's gaining speed-their velocities, originally opposed, now vectored at a narrowing angle.

  Tregare jockeyed to increase the tendency. "I want as close to a rendezvous situation as I can get. It won't be that, of course, or even close-but thanks to Ressider, it'll be a lot better than I ever expected."

  "In essence," said Rissa, "by turning the courses nearer parallel than opposing, you have traded distance for time."

  "That's one way to put it. We couldn't slow enough on a straight approach-not enough time-so we've folded our paths together."

  "And we meet-when?"

  "Depends. Ozzie's fiddled his acce! a couple of times. I'm not sure why. But at present rates-less than two days."

  their count of stalemated ships had been no more accurate than that of successful Escapes. No matter-the remaining

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  UET fleet was now close enough to show distinctly. "I make it forty-two," said Tregare. "I wish we could tell from here, how many are armed,"

  Rissa said, "Would it change your plan in any way?" He laughed. "Course not. It's just-I'd like to know." "I would guess that the unarmed ships, the expendables, would be most apt to attempt Escape."

  "Yeah-I'm afraid you're right." He turned to Anders Kobolak at Control. "Latest time to contact, and relative speed?" The boy read off the figures. "Not good enough-or rather, we can do better." To Rissa, "Broadcast-standard max decel."

  She relayed the orders. Then, "What improvement will this make?"

  "Ozzie's caught on, I think-he's pouring on more punch, trying to overspeed us at meeting by more than I'd like. I want to close faster, before he can build it much. And then-Kobolak! Stay on that computer. What I need now is optimum time to switch to accel-half-max, say, to give us leeway-to meet at the least relative speed. Can you do that?" "Yes, Tregare. It will take a minute to program, but-" "Good. Get on it." He spoke to Rissa. "Nothing's going to happen for a while. Within the hour, sure. But-hey, Ozzie's just realized he has to turn his cone or we'll get him near to broadside. See?" She nodded. "So let's hit the galley for a while. Kobolak-call if there's any change." "Right, Tregare.". .

  in the galley they found Deverel and Kenekke, and joined them. Kenekke poured coffee and said, "Like old times, skipper. Remember, off Shegler's Moon?"

  "Some ways," said Tregare, "I wish we were back there. Three UET ships, but only one armed. Small actions give more room to improvise in a hurry."

  "And you know what he did?" Deverel said. "They came at us even-on, a triangle. Tregare went for the middle of it, full blast-chanced their missiles and his turrets got 'em-fired none of his own. Then he flipped ship and went through them again, and popped two missiles into the shooter on our way past. He-"

  "-and I caught a turret shot across the drive nodes; it cut

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  us to little more than half power. The other two ships got away and we had to limp back into Shegier's. So you see, Rissa- these hooligans remember mostly the parts they like." "Lucky shot," said Kenekke. "That's all they got us with." "Maybe," said Tregare. "But that's ail it took, too."

  back in Control, Tregare said, "Pretty close, aren't they?"

  "Approach speed's lower now," said young Kobolak. "Another five minutes, I'd have called you."

  Tregare looked from the screen to a readout tape. "Yes. Good estimate. All right-" He sat at his command console, Rissa at her coordinator's panel beside him; he opened the broadcast circuit. "Tregare here; prepare for battle stations. Don't jump off the throne or anything-five minutes to get there with whatever you need, another five for checklists. Be sure of your communications-when I sign off here we go fully to squadron relay and coordination. Ten minutes from now all circuits are operations-only." He breathed deeply. "All right-this is when we have to do it. Tregare out."

  He said then, "Rissa? You've got your tandems set? For when Falconer and Malloy are out of sight behind Ozzie's cone?"

  "Yes, Tregare-since this morning. Through Valkyrie to Use and through No Return to Kickem."

  "Good. I-oh? Something, Kobolak?"

  "Optimum time coming up, for accel change. Two minutes from . . . now. And it's from our neg max to plus four-tenths."

  On the squadron circuit Tregare gave the orders. Then to Kobolak; "Estimate, time to contact?"

  "Between seventeen and eighteen minutes after the flip, if Ozzie stays constant. But-" the boy's voice rose in pitch- "shouldn't you, or somebody, check this? I mean-the whole thing, on just my calculations?"

  Tregare reached and touched his shoulder. "Anders-for months I checked your figures, or had somebody else do it. Until ! was sure ! didn't have to, any longer. Now-the time for flip?"

  "Yes. Fifteen seconds." They waited, and Anders Kobolak made the change. Even through the drive field's shielding effect, Rissa could feel the wrench of it.

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  Tregare nodded "Good sync-see it, on the screen? A little wobble, not much, over in Falconer. Now we watch it-the way Ozzie's cone drifts, looks like, sidewise to us and closing-you wouldn't know, would you, we're all going like a bat out of hell straight North?" On the command circuit, "Attitude change, to face them, exactly seventeen minutes after flip. Accel or decel for slowest pass-Kobolak's feeding you the starting readout, you take it from there. Turret gunners attempt firing as soon as you're faced into position. Use your override pedal until they shoot back, to spook them-but not afterward except at need. We want Ozzie to waste his heterodyne as quick as possible. And hold your missiles unless you get a sure one-there'll be more than one pass, before we're done here."

  Now, to Rissa, time stretched without benefit of adrenaline. She saw and felt the ship swing-toward them, crabwise, came UET's coneshaped fleet. Suddenly she laughed.

  "What's funny?" said Tregare.

  "The cone-pointed toward our dish formation. The symbolism-there was a man named Freud-"

  Tregare laughed. "Yeah-I get it. Even in a battle, UET has to be the one to do the screwing. I bet that's why Ozzie chose the inside formation!"

  "And if you chose rightly, Tregare, it may be his undoing."

  "Yes. Hey!" From Parnell squadron, nearest the enemy, a turret spat, then more. "Rissa! Get set-just a few seconds and we open the dish. Hold it as long as you can-we want a close pass, maybe even knock a few out of that tip."

  "Yes." Now UET ships fired and she saw the cone's tip carried few weapons. When projector fire lit nearly the whole display she turned aside for a moment.

  "Tregare-I love you!"

  Then she opened the coordinator's circuit and said, "Prepare to open center-side vectors... now!"

  Brilliant flecks obscured the screen's pattern. Squinting, she glimpsed Parnell sliding down the cone's flank-ramming distance, she thought-get back, Zelde! To her other side Peralta moved, not so dangerously close, but in good range. While under Tregare's hands Inconnu, leading Renalle's vee-formation, dipped toward and then away from enemy fire,

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  sometimes closer than Zelde M'tana.

  Seconds seemed like hours; then space ahead was clear. The squadron circuit babbled, several talking at once. "Hold your reports!" Tregare shouted. "Casualties and damage have to wait. Max thrust toward those bastards-keep open formation. I'll take reports when we're turned, not before."

  Silence, until the screen showed enemy ahead and the distance slowly beginning to close. Then Anders Kobolak said, "We took a hit ahead of the driveroom. Two dead, the rest walking-they didn't say how many. Operation not affected. And one more of our ships was hit-three dead there."

  Tregare shook his head. "I got too fancy-too close. Thought they'd lost heterodyne by that time, but some smart snicker down the cone must have held his fire a while." He checked the screen again. "All right, the others are mostly turned now." He looked at Rissa. "Hey?"

  "Yes, Tregare?"

  "Just before you gave the order to open-what's the idea of putting personal messages into the command net?"

  "But it was not on the circuit-and I wanted to tell you-"

  "I wish 1 had your reflexes-you beat me to it by about half a second."

  "Bran-" She reached and squeezed his hand. Then the squadron circuit began again. Rissa set the order of reports.

  "M'tana from Parnell. Lost one ship-not total, but the drive's shaky and three turrets gone. Killing North speed, best it can, hoping we can pick it up later. Casualties bad, The rest of us-two unscratched, the other four caught minor damage -some casualties but nobody dead."

  Then her voice rang. "And Jarnie blew a ship in half!"

  "My congratulations," said Tregare. "To Jamie and to all of you."

  Next, "Gowdy here. I'm missing a ship. No clues-maybe Control's knocked out and it's on its way to Polaris. Have to wait and look later, if we can. One more beat up a lot but it can go with the next pass, anyway. I don't have details on the rest-just that they're in good enough shape and working like crazy to repair minor damage."

  More faintly came Bernardez' relayed voice. "Tregare, it may be that my strategy-invented on the spot, mind you- was too advanced for its time. But in tribute to our friend Malloy, who-"

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  "Peace take you, Kickem-get on with it!"

  "Well, if you wish only the drab facts, so be it. Seeing an irregularity, a hole in UET's formation, and being ever on the alert, as you know-well, I took Malloy squadron through and inside the cone. And then back out through it. I regret to say that it cost me two ships-one caught in crossfire and the other by ramming." For a moment, silence; Rissa watched Tregare but he did not speak. Then Bernardez said, "But for those two, UET paid with five. Aedra got one and shares credit for another. And the rest of Malloy is as healthy as you could ask for."

  Still Tregare did not answer. The faint voice said, "Your comments?"

  Tregare shook his head. "What am I supposed to say, Kickem? Your people knew the odds and went along with them-and you know I can't fault five for two. But keep in mind now-this battle's not just for itself, it's for Earth. And we still have to get to groundside with enough force to handle what we find there." Then, after a pause, "Hell-you did a damned fine job and you know it!"

  "True-yet a little appreciation, Tregare, is not spurned."

  "Oh-go polish your well-earned halo!" He sat back and glanced over to Rissa.

  "Bran-there is no word from Falconer."

  "Ilse? Here, let me try. Graf Spee, come in-Tregare calling."

  Again the voice, relayed through Valkyrie, was faint. "Sir, we took a hit in Control-a bad one. The skipper-her man's with her-"

  "Who's speaking? Identify yourself."

  "Piet Voeren. I'm-Second Hat, I guess, now. Well, sir, the repair crew got this circuit working first, and they're rigging new controls now, what they can, so we'll be-"

  A harsh voice, tight-edged, broke in. "All right, Piet- thanks." Then, louder, "Ivan Marchant for Falconer, from Graf Spee. The rest of our ships, all right except for grazing shots-casualties minimal, no dead. But-" The voice broke into racking sobs.

  "Ivan! This is Rissa-what has happened?"

  "Rissa! We-we caught it, here-they got Ilse-she's not dead yet, but I think she's dying. And-and others-I haven't been able to check."

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  They heard choking sounds, then; "Oh, don't worry-I'm on the job now. Graf Spee-she'll be ready, when we catch up. But-" The voice changed, and Rissa could not interpret that change. "Our squadron command circuit, it's done for. You'll have to- "

 

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