I had to find more time. To my right, obscured now by the fog of fighters around me, was that dumper truck with its attendant freighters. I opened up my wings, clutched at space and lurched out of the trap. Soon I was thrusting my way into the crowded freighter formation, my wings tucked tight. The fighters blurred after me.

I rammed thoughts through my sleep-starved brain as I flew. Could I evade the waiting Spline? Maybe I could divert the ship's hyperspace flight -- but how? Prise open the melted control box? Change the ship's mass, to change the distance I arrived from the Qax sun?

Of course I could abandon ship before I reached the Qax system, at one of the later jump points. I had that Spline emergency beacon; I'd be picked up. And if I kept quiet I could hide from the Qax, for years maybe...

But, damn it, if I did that humanity and a few hundred other races would one day end up falling into the Xeelee pit. Hiding wasn't good enough.

I dipped under the lip of the dumper truck and dodged the processed Great Attractor material sleeting from the truck's base. The huge icicles fell a few thousand miles and then broke up into a fine mist... and as I stared abstractedly at that mist I realized there was a way out of this. It was stupid, crazy, nearly unworkable. And my only chance.

"All right, Qax," I said. "I'll come home. But first..."

I dropped, spread my wings as far as they would go and whirled like a seagull through the crystal rain. The wings plated over rapidly and grew stiff and cumbersome.

"Bolder, what are you doing?"

"Wrecking this beautiful ship," I told Lipsey with real regret.

The Xeelee fighters finally closed around me, shutting out the rain.

I pressed the button.

The Xeelee trap disappeared; I'd jumped back to the blue-tinged light of the star cloud. And then--

Jump. Jump. Jump -- jump -- jump -- jumpjumpjump--

The skies became a blur. I slumped into sleep.

I fell towards the welcoming pool that was my home Galaxy. I peered out of my glazed-over cage as the stars' flickering began to slow. For the first time in a month I unbuckled the straps that bound me to my couch, and prized the translator box free of the strut over my head.

Lipsey and I said our goodbyes. "Do me a favor," I said. "Whatever happens, keep talking. Tell me what you see."

"Whatever you say." I imagined his noble face gazing out over the seething Qax ocean. "Bolder... I want you to know I'm sorry."

"Yeah." The ship -- jumped -- to the dumbbell binary system. It was dazzling; I'd arrived much closer than I remembered from my visit on the way out. I bunched a gloved fist in triumph. This was going to work--

-- jump--