They entered a gravity lock, slipped slowly and easily into free-fall. It wasn’t true free-fall, being rather a state in which artificial gravity was negated. Something like swimming through thin gelatin. The complex state, difficult to maintain, was generated only at the center of the ship, its battle headquarters and flight center. A military secret as fanatically guarded as the mechanism of the KK SCCAM weapons-system, the field would protect them from everything but complete power loss or direct hit.

“For another thing, lieutenant, he might have feared the AAnn would pick up and decode a message that might precipitate action.”

“You suspect them then, sir?”

“They have a naval base of considerable size nearby. I know of few other races cohabiting this section of space that could mount a force of this size, even if they had the time to assemble them from across the Arm. Anyway, I would assume it to be our reptilian compatriots even were this a small force. With a fleet, I think the question becomes academic.”

“Do you think they may already have . . .?”

“No, no, lieutenant. Were that the case, we would have heard something.”

Churchmen of many races, with thranx and human predominating, saluted smartly when the Admiral floated into the battle center. He returned them easily with a truhand while heading rapidly for his combat basket. The lieutenant took up his own post nearby.

The old Commander had run a thousand possibilities and alternatives through his mind while conversing with his young human aide. The thoughts itched. Incidentally, he reflected that Lieutenant Hanover might metamorphose into a fine commander someday. Despite the mask of fawning innocence he occasionally chose to wear, the lad was sharp as a sting. The mask was well-crafted, too. Another point in his favor. But he still needed honing and a lot of hard prodding in the imagination. He ought to receive plenty of both, this trip.

“Communications! I’d appreciate it if you’d try and raise the flagship of our unknown visitors.”

At that moment a frail-looking thranx seated across the center, looking as much a part of his instrumentation as a computer terminal, turned slightly in his harness.

“By remarkable coincidence, sir, I have this very second acquired a signal which appears directed at us from the formation in question. I envision a confluence of objectives.”

“Spare me the philosophy and put it through.”

An elderly reptilian face, haughty and proud, white-scaled, appeared on the big screen over the commboard.

“His munificence,” began the official herald, “the Baron Riidi WW, Ruler of Torsee Provinces, Executor of . . .”

“Spare me the titles this once,” Ashvenarya broke in, “and put your commander on.”

The face froze. “Proper diplomatic courtesy demands that . . .” The admonition was interrupted by a strong offscreen voice. It hissed surprisingly little for an AAnn.

“Never mind, herald.” There was a brief flicker and another reptilian face appeared on the screen. It was sharp-featured, almost handsome, proud. The gaze was piercing. “Whom have I the pleasure of addressing?”