Something struck the Vom elsewise. Something strange, new, unaccountable, and utterly undetected aforehand. It was raw strength, more powerful even than the Guardian-Machine, but not as mature, as sophisticated in the use of power. It was different and it showed. It fought unrelentingly, uncompromisingly, openly. It fought mathematically diverse and helically perverse.

Unemotionally the Vom retreated, countered, struck back. The counterattack rebounded. No victory; no defeat.

The stalemate was resumed.

A hundred parsecs away a quartz pebble (not very good quartz, but honest quartz) blazed momentarily with the light of a thousand suns. There were none around to appreciate it. The light died, but the pebble lived.

Stalemate.

“Well, what is it, Hanover?” Ashvenarya said gruffly. It would not have been proper nor seemly for a thranx to be upset this far from action, but the Admiral was tense nonetheless. Given the peculiarities of the situation, he felt it justified.

“We are within influence of the system, sir. The fleet is going off KK drive and . . .”

“I know that, lieutenant. The flagship went off it nearly thirty minutes ago and I should damn well hope the others followed suit. Get to your point.”

“Sir, there appears to be another fleet already in orbit around the planet. Since we’ve received no official notification of another major force in this sector I thought . . .”

The admiral was already running for the lift, rubbing at his bad compound eye with silicon-treated tissue. The lieutenant had to move awkwardly, running every few steps. The old sector commander was moving on all four legs.

“You retain information like a machine, Hanover. Which is one of the reasons I keep you as aide. Egg knows there’re few enough. You’re quite correct. I ordered no other ships sent to Repler and there aren’t any other Church or Commonwealth forces close enough to be here before us. Which leaves one alternative. Whoever mans those ships is neither human nor thranx. I admit that’s not logical either, but then nothing about this situation has been so far.”

The lift carried them to the bubble nexus suspended in the center of the battlewagon.

“Preliminary evaluation?” Ashvenarya barked as he floated smoothly down a rampway.

“The distance is still substantial, sir, and we have the sun full in front. Ship’s predictors read thirty-nine confirmed, with at least twelve probables. Battle-fleet class, sir.”

“Tunnels! Now I have this to worry on, too.”

“I confess surprise, sir, that the commander of the local garrison did not try to warn you via interspace of this fleet’s presence.”

“Orvenalix is a capable officer, Lieutenant. I don’t doubt he didn’t because he couldn’t. Or he might have tried and been jammed, coerced, shot . . . we swim in ignorance for now.”