Saunders stood on the bridge, looking out at the stellar host, trying to discern the Anvardian fleet. The detectors were far over scale, the enemy was close, but you couldn’t visually detect something that outran its own image.

Hunda was at the control central, bent over the cracked old dials and spinning the corroded signal wheels, trying to coax another centimeter per second from a ship more ancient than the Pyramids had been in Saunders’ day. The Dreamer stood quietly in a corner, staring raptly out at the Galaxy. The others at the court were each in charge of a squadron, Saunders had talked to them over the inter-ship visiscreen—Vargor white-lipped and tense, Belgotai blasphemously cheerful, the rest showing only cool reserve.

“In a few minutes,” said Taury quietly. “In just a few minutes, Martin.”

She paced back from the viewport, lithe and restless as a tigress. The cold white starlight glittered in her eyes. A red cloak swirled about the strong, deep curves of her body, a Sunburst helmet sat proudly on her bronze-bright hair. Saunders thought how beautiful she was—by all the gods, how beautiful!

She smiled at him. “It is your doing, Martin,” she said. “You came from the past just to bring us hope. It’s enough to make one believe in destiny.” She took his hand. “But of course it’s not the hope you wanted. This won’t get you back home.”

“It doesn’t matter,” he said.

“It does, Martin. But—may I say it? I’m still glad of it. Not only for the sake of the Empire, but—”

A voice rattled over the bridge communicator: “Ultrawave to bridge. The enemy is sending us a message, your majesty. Shall I send it up to you?”

“Of course.” Taury switched on the bridge screen.

A face leaped into it, strong and proud and ruthless, the Sunburst shining in the green hair. “Greeting, Taury of Sol,” said the Anvardian. “I am Ruulthan, Emperor of the Galaxy.”

“I know who you are,” said Taury thinly, “but I don’t recognize your assumed title.”

“Our detectors report your approach with a fleet approximately one-tenth the size of ours. You have one Supernova ship, of course, but so do we. Unless you wish to come to terms, it will mean annihilation.”

“What are your terms?”

“Surrender, execution of the criminals who led the attacks on Anvardian planets, and your own pledge of allegiance to me as Galactic Emperor.” The voice was clipped, steel-hard.

Taury turned away in disgust. Saunders told Ruulthan in explicit language what to do with his terms, and then cut off the screen.

Taury gestured to the newly installed time-drive controls. “Take them, Martin,” she said. “They’re yours, really.” She put her hands in his and looked at him with serious gray eyes. “And if we should fail in this—good-bye, Martin. “

“Good-bye,” he said thickly.

* * *

He wrenched himself over the panel and sat down before its few dials. Here goes nothing!

He waved one hand, and Hunda cut off the hyperdrive. At low intrinsic velocity, the Vengeance hung in space while the invisible ships of her fleet flashed past toward the oncoming Anvardi.