“Very well,” the admiral said. They glided in her wake as she led them to join the rest.

She noted the blend of the crowd: junior officers and a few diplomats. No one of major power, she decided, and there wasn’t the mix of soldiers in there that would have made her fear a show of force. This far from the borders of their empire, on a station that was neutral territory, overt action would be difficult, though. Something covert was much more likely.

Something that Lassite might call deep doom? She worried that thought over for just a second, then pushed it away. She’d watch for trouble, but she always did.

There was a cough from the unattended entrance as Niko returned.

She looked.

This, she realized, could be no other being than Lolola Montaigne d’Arcy deBurgh.

INTERLUDE

FOUR YEARS EARLIER

There are no-win situations, and then there are No-Win Situations, ones guaranteed to go down in the history books. Or so newly minted Admiral Nicolette Larsen of the Holy Hive Mind thought as she stared over the convoluted architecture of Rourke’s Leap, designated spot for what the history books would surely refer to as one of the most disastrous accords attempted in the course of the Known Universe’s history.

How had it come to this? Representatives of three major groups: the Hive Mind, the Paxian Empire, and the Spisoli, one of the most confusing and difficult powers in the universe.

The Spisoli emulated the Arranti, although the Arranti seemed to pay them no mind whatsoever. They predicated their actions on elaborate interpretations of Arranti actions, and pointed to their overall success as a race as a justification to continue this practice. It did not hurt that the Spisoli bred rapidly and were adapted to a wide range of environmental circumstances, nor that their inquisitive, flexible minds were adept at analyzing alien technology and adapting it for their own ends.

Even now, she could see a small group of them exploring the Leap, picking their way along the intricate set of dark glass bridges spanning a vast gulf. The bridges stretched every which way, laddering in one direction, then twisting back on themselves, forming a system of stairways and landings that latticed the blue glow coming from far below, a product of the electromagnetic and chemical reactions taking place in the depths.

While the ladders seemed to lead in random directions, you could, after looking at them for a while, begin to pick out patterns. Three reached to the pinnacle, an enormous glass oval some forty meters in diameter. It hovered on the bridge strands that held it up, each themselves a narrow and difficult pathway, half a meter across, and buffeted by high winds.