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Lev Bukovsky lay in his couch and smiled vacantly as he watched a series of numbers float past his eyes.

The emerald green apparitions told him that Luna Lines 502 had just begun the orbital insertion maneuver that would place it at Tyco Station three days hence. Lev concentrated on the spot where the ship lay.

Instantly, a dim red curve sprang forth. Other multicolored curves materialized to intersect the first. The various curves showed the orbits of 502 and all objects that would pass within a thousand kilometers of the liner during its voyage. A moment later, the curves vanished automatically, signifying that there was no possibility of a mid-space collision.

Lev was about to return to his routine when a crimson star appeared high above Earth and a silent alarm began ringing in his brain.

“What is that?” Bukovsky muttered to himself in his native Russian. High above the northern hemisphere, an unidentified ship had just begun to accelerate away from Earth. The “no record” message that flashed in response to Lev’s unspoken question was unprecedented in his short experience. He immediately took the action called for by training when confronted with a problem he did not know how to solve. He called his supervisor.

“What is it, Lev?” Melissa Carter asked her newest operator. She had been a Sky Watcher for nearly twenty years and sometimes felt nostalgic for the old flat panel displays on which she had learned. This jumping about mentally over millions of kilometers every few seconds was disconcerting.

“I have a ship leaving orbit with no flight plan. Think it could be a hijacking?” Lev asked as he sent her the transgressor’s coordinates.

Melissa read off the numbers, asked her own mental question, and then smiled. This would be a good test to see how the kid handled the unexpected. “What do you make of it?”

“Someone’s in big trouble,” the young operator said, the grimness in his voice barely covering his suppressed excitement. “It is against the law not to file a flight plan.”

“Perhaps they filed one, but it’s coded so that our computer won’t pick it up.”

“Who would do that?”

“You tell me.”

Lev chewed his lower lip. There had been something about this situation in training, but what? “Uh, Space Guard can do it, of course, under extraordinary circumstances.”

“Who else?”

“The World Coordinator, the grand admiral ... director of Sky Watch ... director, Stellar Survey, I think.” I can’t think of any reason they would do that, though.”

“Nor can I. Apparently, they have such a reason. Now what are our duties in this situation?”

“Uh, to take no notice?”

“Officially correct, Operator Bukovsky. Still, it will not hurt to be a little curious. What do we know about this mysterious flight?”

“We know its point of origin.” There was a moment’s silence while Bukovsky checked the traffic database. “PoleStar. Those are the current orbital elements of the PoleStar mirror and habitat!”

“Good. Now where is it heading?”

“I don’t know.”

“Shouldn’t you find out?”

Bukovsky’s brows knit together beneath the heavy helmet that covered half his face. Suddenly he was no longer a million kilometers out in space, but near the ship so blatantly transiting the traffic zone without so much as a “by your leave.” The green alphanumerics next to the ship symbol changed almost too quickly to read.

“We have a change of plane maneuver going on here,” Bukovsky reported, “and he is moving
away
from the ecliptic.”

“Very good, Lev. What does that make him?”

“A starship, of course.”

“What starship?”

“Uh, I don’t know.”

“No reason you should,” Melissa said mysteriously. In fact, she had watched that same ship inbound several weeks earlier. On that occasion, too, the ship’s data had been encrypted; as though someone thought they could enter the Earth-Luna traffic zone without anyone noticing! That had piqued her curiosity and she had watched it rendezvous with PoleStar rather than High Station. Her inquires on the subject had elicited the comment that it would be unwise to inquire further. “Good analysis. We will make a Sky Watcher of you yet. Now, back to work.”

Lev Bukovsky, junior among Omaha’s watchers, returned to his duties. He watched the unidentified ship climb away from Earth for the rest of his watch. They were in a hurry, whoever they were. Their acceleration rating stayed constant at 1.0 g the whole time.

He checked them one last time just before his watch ended. As he lifted the helmet from his shoulders, he wondered again what ship it had been and where they were bound.

Captain Dan Landon lay in his acceleration couch and watched the screens around him as the chronometer continued its march toward zero hour. The six-day voyage from Sol had been gratifyingly free of mechanical difficulties, with nothing more serious than the breakdown of the wardroom coffee maker to turn his hair gray. He was especially gratified with the working of the stardrive. He had been skeptical when Laura Dresser had first suggested splicing the new generator into
Magellan
’s own circuits. True, the jury-rig was running at only one percent of its rated capacity, just enough to envelop the external cargo in the combined drive field. Even so, Landon did not like trusting his life to such an obvious band-aid.

The near perfect condition of the ship left him plenty of time to handle other problems -notably, Laura Dresser and her crew of prima donnas. Organizations, like people, develop personalities of their own.

Most often, an organization’s personality is a reflection of that of its leader. Never had he found that more true than in the case of the stardrive specialists. The arguments had begun almost as soon as they had jumped superlight out of Sol. First had come Laura’s complaints that her people were not provided private cabins, followed by criticisms about the food, the noise, and the smell of the ship. Then had come her demand that her people be given control of one of
Magellan
’s primary computers so they could model the salvaged derelict’s handling characteristics. To give up one of the ship’s computers meant a reduction in operational redundancy. Still, he judged that in this one case, the demand was justified.

Preplanning was worth the risk if it would get them out of the New Eden system even one day earlier.

Nor were Laura Dresser’s people the only problem. Along with the stardrive experts, he was transporting a large contingent of scientists hurriedly recruited from Earth. They would search for telltale signs left behind by the New Eden stargate. If Sar-Say’s allegations were true, then the ability to detect where gates once existed could prove highly useful. The leader of this second group of scientists, Dr.

Pomerance, had tried to explain the physics involved, but the explanation had been so much gibberish to Landon.

“Breakout in thirty seconds, Captain,” Grandstaff announced from his station in front of Landon’s couch.

“Very well, Ensign. Make the announcement.”

“All Hands. The ship will transition to sublight in thirty seconds. Take all precautions! I repeat,
sublight in thirty seconds.”

“The ship has been notified, Captain.”

“Thank you, Ensign.”

Landon watched the chronometer tick off the seconds. There was no countdown or other such silliness.

When the numerals all reached zero, the quiet hum of the stardrive died away and the stars returned to the bulkhead viewscreen.

“Where are we, Miss Mullins?”

“Stand by, Captain,” the astrogation officer said. She monitored while the computer measured the positions of several thousand stars and compared the results to the sky survey they had done the last time they were here. Finally, she said, “I make us 65 astronomical units from the New Eden sun and 12 AU’s above the local ecliptic.”

“Sensors, begin your sweeps. I want to know if there is even the slightest evidence of alien activity in this system.”

“Aye aye, Captain,” came the response on the intercom.

They had broken out on the outskirts of the system as a precaution. If the Broa had traced their missing ships, they might have been able somehow to reconstruct the battle. If they had also found the derelict, they might have discovered evidence of the brief human presence aboard. In that event, it was conceivable they would set a trap for
Magellan
’s return.

“Dr. Forham, any evidence of gravity waves?” he asked Bendagar’s assistant. He had not liked leaving his chief scientist back at PoleStar, but felt the search for Broan home worlds more important than this salvage operation.

“None, Captain.”

“If you get even a wiggle out of your instruments, let me know immediately. We’ll be out of here so fast that our own photons won’t catch us.” Which, Landon thought, as he disconnected, was the literal truth.

Twenty minutes later, he was gazing at a very-long-range view of New Eden when his communicator buzzed.

“Captain, this is Laura Dresser.”

“Yes, Ms. Dresser. What can I do for you?”

“I would like to begin assembling my team. You still haven’t given me names.”

“I will meet you in my ready room.”

In addition to her own technicians, Laura Dresser would need a crew of competent spacers to fly the derelict. The only source of such people was
Magellan
’s own crew. He had chosen those who would man the salvaged craft three days earlier. The worst difficulty had been deciding who would command.

He needed someone who understood the dangers involved and was sufficiently familiar with the jury-rigged stardrive to get the derelict home safely, an officer respected by both the unruly stardrive specialists and his own crew. In the end, there had only been one suitable candidate. He smiled as he pulled himself hand over hand toward the bridge hatchway that led to his ready room.

He wanted to see the look on Laura Dresser’s face when he told her!

#

Three days later, those who would operate the derelict on its perilous journey to Sol gathered in
Magellan
’s mess compartment. They sat at the long steel tables bolted to the deck and waited for Dan Landon to begin the briefing.
Magellan
was under power, giving them half-a-gravity of acceleration for the next dozen hours.

“All right, let’s get started,” Landon ordered as he scanned their expectant faces. “You all know why you are here. This will be our only gathering as a group. If you have a problem with any part of the salvage plan, I want to hear about it before we finish today. Before we get to the details of the mission, I want everyone to think about something. You all know the worst-case scenario. I want you to look deep into your heart and decide if you want to take the risk.”

Landon folded his hands in front of him and let his features fall into the pattern of one in contemplation.

He did not really expect anyone to quit, although he would not be surprised if someone did. Crossing a hundred light-years of black vacuum in a cobbled together starship was as risky an undertaking as he had faced in his career. Still, that risk was as nothing compared to the worst-case scenario.

The question of what to do if the Broa showed up halfway through the salvage effort had plagued the expedition’s planners from the start. Before Nadine Halstrom agreed to let him return to New Eden, she had extracted a price, namely that he rig the derelict to self-destruct in case of imminent capture. That way, all evidence of human presence would be obliterated. Landon had assumed that the job would be done by conventional high explosives, and had been surprised when the coordinator’s office offered a nuclear device for the task. In fact, they had provided two.

Earth’s nuclear arsenal was a small one, a holdover from the bad old days. There had been no need for such weapons for more than a century. Not only was humanity largely at peace, access to space provided all the destructive power anyone might need. There was nothing fission or fusion weapons could do that a small asteroid could not emulate. In fact, there were two-dozen rocks in Earth orbit that were available to smash cities should the need ever again arise. An asteroid strike released megatons of thermal energy without the concomitant problem of radioactive fallout.

Like most people, Dan had a touch of superstition where nuclear weapons were concerned. In fact, he had never expected to lay eyes on one. Now he had two in his ship’s hold. One would be installed in the derelict while the other remained with
Magellan
. In the event the Broa showed up before the derelict was spaceworthy, the salvage crew would evacuate and then vaporize the derelict. If evacuation proved impossible, then it would be the duty of the salvage crew’s commander to blow up the ship. Human beings must not fall into the hands of the Broa, whether alive or dead. Human physiology carried far too many clues to Sol’s identity. It would take a strong man to set off the bomb while still aboard the derelict.

For that reason, Dan Landon had chosen to command the salvage crew himself.

After a full minute had passed, Landon asked, “Is there anyone who would like to stay behind?” When he did not receive an answer, he continued, “All right, Dr. Forham, let us have your report.”

The acting chief scientist glanced down at his portable computer before clearing his throat. “We have swept this system with every sensor we own, Captain. We have spotted the iron-rich gas cloud that was our adversary. Had the Broa investigated, at least one of their ships was likely to pass through that cloud.

Long-range analysis shows no disturbance to the cloud structure. Nor have we found any other indication that someone has been here since we left.”

“Anything else?”

“I am afraid we have been less successful in plotting the position where the stargate materialized. If the gate had any effect on the local vacuum, it is too slight to see from this range. Perhaps when we get closer.”

“Right. Laura, your report, please.”

“We are ready, Captain. My specialists have been training with your people. They all know what is expected of them. We have picked a spot to install the generator and the power reactor, also the life support system and the flight controls.”