The splitting of the Grand Fleet three weeks ago had begun in a high state of anxiety for the admiral. Every day, Fletcher had expected the enemy to pounce on the weakest element of the Grand Fleet. Instead, the combined fleets moved faster through “C” Quadrant, gathering information at five times the previous rate. Despite that, the admiral kept a tight reign over the movement schedules. It didn’t take a genius to see the New Men were going to let them get overconfident and then sloppy. Fletcher was determined to prevent that.

Now, though, the holoimages he’d seen… Could Bishop have been right? By traveling faster, scouting more systems at an accelerated rate, could that have pressured the New Men into making a mistake?

Fletcher wanted more information before he made that decision. Where were the people of New Venezuela III? He had to know.

The admiral clicked on an intercom. “Any word yet from the landing party?”

“No, sir,” Antietam’s captain said.

The bulk of the warships were over one point five billion kilometers away from New Venezuela III. Messages took time to travel the distance. Launching shuttles from Excalibur took more time. So did actually traveling down to the planet and then walking around, recording whatever there was to see.

Fletcher forced himself to sit back. The data would arrive when it came and no faster. He wasn’t going to hurry it like this. Instead, he was showing the captain and her bridge crew that the admiral was anxious. No, that wouldn’t do.

“Thank you,” he said.

“Yes, sir.”

Fletcher put his hands over his stomach. He hated waiting. It was always the worst part. When would he know what had happened to the people of Caracas? This was driving him crazy.

***

Finally, the landing party sent its data packet to Excalibur. The carrier’s intelligence officer beamed it via the laser lightguide link to Antietam. Soon, the flagship’s briefing officer knocked on the ready room door.

“Enter,” Fletcher said.

“I have the Caracas report, sir,” she said.

The admiral waved her inside. Soon, he studied the holoimages of empty stores, empty houses and unmade beds. Everywhere the landing party went, it was the same. The people had obviously left in a hurry. The landing party had not found anyone to interrogate.

“What’s this?” Fletcher said, spying movement in the holo-vid.

A second later, as the landing party person zoomed in, a red and white cat hissed. Then, it disappeared around a corner.

“Did you notice that?” Fletcher asked.

“I did, sir.”

“Well? What do you think?”

“I-I don’t know, sir,” the briefing officer said, looking confused.

“I was referring to the cat’s collar. You did see that, right?”

“Oh,” she said, “the collar. Why, yes, of course.” A moment passed. “Sir, I must admit that I didn’t notice the collar.”