“Communications, sir. All intership comm units, including storage and backup facil . . .”

“ . . . no visible damage or shorting, sarge! It’s crazy . . .!”

“ . . . ities on all ship channels inoperable. Emergency backup systematization totally inoperative, Admiral.”

“That’s impos . . .! Status report!” Ashvenarya accepted the situation and changed in mid-sentence.

Again, quick reply.

“All communicators down to hand-units inoperable. Engineering reports central KK drive unit shut down for sub-light as well as supra-light capability at 0954.4 ship-time.” The communicator’s tone changed to one less officious. “That means the whole ship is in free-fall status, sir.”

“Going to play havoc with the housekeeping. What else?”

An engineer was bent over a heavily instrumented console. He was checking dials and meters against a computer readout. A muscle twitched nervously in his neck.

“All exterior and numerous interior systematizations report dead, underpowered or inoperative, sir. Computer indicates conjunctive causation. With the exception of basic life support and non-offensively oriented interior emergency functions, the ship is effectively immobilized.”

“Dead, you mean. Kyash!” Ashvenarya swiveled his basket to face the human Commodore. The Zimbabwe was, after all, his command.

“Do you think the shuttles and lifeboats will operate, Moorea?”

“They’re all self-contained, of course, sir. But even assuming that whatever has affected the ship has spared them, the bay doors and release mechanisms are ship-powered, so . . .” Moorea shrugged helplessly. “We can utilize abandonment methods, true, but . . .”

“No, I’m not ready for that yet either, Commodore. I want no precipitous action here. KK storage cells don’t just go stale like honeyfrye, nor do emergency battle power-backup systems for communications and weapons complexes die while their life-support counterparts continue to operate. We are the subjects of a selective attack procedure of unknown power and undeniable effectiveness! . . . Lieutenant Hanover!”

“Sir?”

“There ought to be several ways of contacting the other ships of the fleet. We’re orbiting tight and close. Try mirrors, wave handkerchiefs. I’m not particular about how you do it. I’ve got to know if ours is an isolated case—it’s not inconceivable that we are the victims of some local spatial phenomena—or if, as I suspect, everyone else has been hit the same.”

“Aye, sir.” Hanover left his basket and commenced pulling himself via hand and claw holds to the nearest lock. Since the gravity for the ship was supplied by KK storage power when the vessel was not in supralight space, the ship was in full free-fall. The lock had no purpose now.

“Oh, and Hanover!”

“Admiral?” Hanover exerted pressure on a bar near the lock, floated steady.

“See if you can help the dispensary personnel, Doctor Furman and Surgeon Lee and the others, get organized. They may need some extra help. Authorize whatever they need. Going from .91 gee to no-weight as abruptly as the rest of the ship probably did, there’ll be a lot of men who lost more than just breakfast.”