To The Third Galaxy

29

To The Third Galaxy

    As the Admiral reached the ship the hatch opened and Jhl appeared in her coveralls.

    “Afternoon, sir!” she grinned, jumping down. She threw a salute. “That was galaxious!”

    “Was it?” he said tightly. “Good. Then you can teach me.”

    Her jaw sagged. “Haven’t you—”

    “No, you intergalactic imbecile!” he shouted. “I haven’t! My flight skills aren’t fully back yet, but you obviously haven’t bothered to check that, either, have you? And you’re the first humanoid captain to pwld, but I gather that hasn’t struck you!”

    “Never thought about it. Not relevant!” she said, grinning. “Of course I’ll teach you. Going into pwlded space gives you a terrific kick, bit like grass-sledding!”

    “Stop it!” he shouted. “I thought it was going to kill you!”

    Jhl looked up at him uncertainly. “Idiot,” she said feebly.

    His jaw trembled. “Why did I ever let you take up a position under my command?”

    “Uh—well, you must have been aware of Service Regs, Shan,” she said awkwardly.

    “Not to say of Space Fleet etiquette—yes. –You realise five thousand asteroid-brains have whatever they use for noses pressed to the windows of the cursed Admin Block?”

    “Yes. And to the cafeteria windows, too.”

    “Quite. May we go aboard?”

    “Uh—yeah. Please come aboard, Admiral.”

    Sighing, he went on board.

    Admiral coming aboard!—“Wait,” warned Jhl.—Admiral on board!

    “Done?” he asked coldly.

    “Unless you make the mistake of going on the bridge—yeah, think so,” she admitted.

    “Good. Come here,” he said shakily.

    Jhl came closer and looked up at him uncertainly.

    Shank’yar Vt R’aam pulled her into a tight embrace and kissed her hungrily. He felt her resist, and knew a moment’s black, swamping despair—and then she kissed him back eagerly.

    “Oh—Blerrinbrig’s,” said Jhl limply as he released her at last. “I thought—I thought—” Her voice shook. She ran her hand through her hair distractedly.

    “You thought it had gone?” he said tightly.

    “No. Um, thought I could control it,” she admitted lamely.

    “Yes? I realised a long time back that I couldn’t. Long before the Old Rthfrdian business, or the pwld, or… I did fight it for a long time.”

    “Mm,” she said, looking at him doubtfully.

    “In what had begun to seem the unlikely event that you still wanted me, I did intend to—um, hold back,” he said with a rueful grimace, “until we were in space.”

    “Eh? Space or not, it’d still be Service Regs.”

    “It wouldn’t, actually. You’ve never been on an expedition before, have you? No, well, few beings have. But on an Exploratory Expedition, which is what this officially will be once we’re off, Exploratory Expedition Regs come into force.”

    “Uh—it’s still within the Service, isn’t it?”

    “Of course: I’m not talking about insubordination or that sort of day-to-day stuff. The main point about Exploratory Expedition Regs is that the Expedition Leader, that’s me, can set them. There are guidelines, though one is free to ignore them. But in any case,”—the lips curved in a little smile, not showing the pearly teeth—“the relevant guidelines are that if it’s unlikely an expedition will return within a reasonable percentage of the lifespans of its personnel, all personnel may be ordered to act as if they were in a Colonising Fleet. Breeding,” he said, the slanted blue eyes beginning to sparkle, “mandatory.”

    Jhl went very pink, he wasn’t displeased to see. And said lamely: “Oh.”

    “Oh, yes!” he said with a laugh, pulling her against him. “Don’t dare to breathe so much as a hint of a mind-picture about my devious mind,” he said into the ruffled black mn-mn silk of her hair.

    “A being can’t help thinking!” she said indignantly against the sparf on his chest.

    “Mm,” he agreed, smiling. “Evidently. But can you really believe that I would set up an entire intergalactic expedition just in order to achieve my devious aim of mixing my genes with yours?”

    Jhl looked up at him. His shoulders shook silently, the blue eyes sparkled, and the mouth smiled, the lips closed. “Yes.”

    “Then why are you bawling, darling Jhl?” he said lightly.

    “I—don’t—know!” sobbed Jhl against the sparf-laden chest.

    “No,” he discovered, hugging her tightly. “Nor you do. Thank the Federation for that.”

    Jhl might have said something but at that moment the hatch began to open and he released her with a grimace. Four small beings clambered in, panting excitedly. Two humanoids, two Flppus—right.

    “WHO gave the order— Oh: BrTl. Yes, all right, all right, he’s a ranking officer! He’s on the bridge, but there’s nothing to—” They’d gone. “To see,” ended Jhl feebly.

    “Later,” he promised with a smile in his voice.

    She swallowed. “Don’t just assume… Um, we’ll have to talk about it all.”

    “Of course,” he said courteously, with a Whtyllian bow. “But twenty IG years will give us plenty of time to talk, won’t it?”

    “Don’t bow to me when we’re both in uniform,” said Jhl feebly.

    “Thank you for having me on your ship, Captain,” he replied formally.

    Jhl gritted her teeth and saluted. “My pleasure, Admiral.”

    Looking very ironic, he returned the salute and turned to the hatch.

    OPEN! sent Jhl hurriedly, but it had opened anyway.

    “I’ll see you and the Trff in the Control Room tomorrow, after breakfast,” he said.

    “What? Oh! Um, yes, of course,” replied Jhl limply.

    Nodding lightly, Shank’yar stepped out. The hatch closed after him without any discernible command from any being.

    “Great splintered—” Suddenly Jhl sat down on the xrillion floor of the ship’s companionway.

    Are you all right, Captain?

    “Yes,” she sighed. “Yes.” She caught something that might have equated to puzzlement in a being, so she sent: I just need to sit for a while. Humanoid stuff.

    Yes, Captain.

    Jhl sat for a while. It was all a devious plot, by the three-tongued blurryankers of Trypthfymia, or her name wasn’t Jhl Smt Wong! But did it matter? Uh—well, did it ought to matter?

    Oddly enough she couldn’t decide, so she got up and went off to the bridge, just in case the sensation of going into pwlded space might lead BrTl to do anything silly, like letting small civilian beings touch anything on the bridge. Or even see anything on the bridge. And all beings that hadn’t felt like their lunch at lunchtime could have something to eat—yes. And after they’d run a few post-flight checks they could all have the rest of the day off. What? Oh, all right, dinner for everyone at the downtown J’rd’s—and order anything they liked, on the ship’s account. Well, were they realistically going to need those remaining super-igs? No, quite. Oh—and Number Twos, thanks, BrTl. Yes, that was an order.

    “And you needn’t laugh, G’gg: you can go into your hygiene cabinet with that filthy coverall on and stay there until it and you are so clean you look spanking new. And Fl’Oo-ooueroii, please supervise him.”

    “Now?” he bleated sadly.

    “Depends on whether you want to try out the J’rd’s Theatre’s new sim-show—”

    He was off like the very latest Addra Reonia model taking off into hyperspace. Fl’Oo-ooueroii shot after him. Smiling, L’Thea took Fl’Jfaffl’s flexible appendage in her hand and followed them.

    After a moment BrTl said uncertainly: “What?”

    “Nothing. Um, do you know anything about Exploratory Expedition Regs?”

    “Eh? Oh, that. Yes, known for years. I was on an expedition once, as a young sub-lieutenant. In fact, there’s a female-tended Br-cognate on Ship 47 that’s arranging to set up a culture-pod, the trip’ll just give us nice time to— What?”

    “Didn’t it dawn that I might be INTERESTED?” she bellowed.

    “Um—no. Sorry. Er, I don’t think you really understand about culture-pods, do you?”

    Jhl ruffled her hair wildly. Flaming Vvlvanian magma pits! “No, all right, I don’t. Uh—at least, she’ll be your bond-partner, will she?”

    “No, of course not!” he said in astonishment.

    She gave up. “No. All right, no blame. Where’s Trff?”

    Checking the blobs, it sent.

    Good. She sat down in the pilot’s seat. “Start post-flight bridge check.”

    “Checking,” BrTl agreed happily.

    Ships 20-25 went up, went into hyperdrive and pwlded in formation for a couple of light-years without trouble. In the palatial viewing pavilion erected specifically to allow assorted lordships, leisured beings, Federation Representatives, diplomats and Space Fleet top sparf to view the rehearsals—and eventually, it was to be presumed, the departure—of the First Federation Expedition to the Third Galaxy, the audience applauded eagerly. True, this was the second time the Admiral had had all the ships pwlding in formation, but most of them had only just arrived. And hadn't yet had time to get bored with the Admiral’s interminable rehearsals.

    Rh’aiiy’hn was monitoring. He was aware of his mother’s anxiety as she watched him. He smiled at her and said: “They’re all very exhilarated when the ships pwld. But I can’t reach them now: out of range.”

    “Yes,” said Mh’aaiivh with a little sigh. “They all seem to be managing very well.”

    He knew she was not only worried about him, she was worrying about his father. He put a hand gently on hers and said: “There has only been the one accident, Mother. They’ve all had hours of pwlding time, now.”

    Mh’aaiivh smiled valiantly. “Of course.”

    Further along the front row R’shn hugged S’zzie and said to Lady J’nfr: “Isn’t it exciting?”

    J’nfr Kadry approved of R’shn, though at whose suggestion, was any being’s guess. “Oh, thrilling, my dear, but terrifying, too! And twenty years in space is a long time to be away!”

    “Yes. Um, over forty, ma’am,” R’shn reminded her.

    “Of course! Silly me! Why, by the time they get back, we’ll be able to meet their grandchildren!” she twittered.

    Once again R’shn found herself wondering madly how such a, frankly, dim old biddy could possibly have produced the terrifyingly intelligent Raj Kadry. And wondering, yet again, if she really wanted to… Well, she really wanted him, she reflected glumly, propping her chin on S’zzie’s curly dark head. “Yes, big spay-ships, S’zzie,” she agreed.

    Spaceships, articulated four Whtyllian voices clearly in her head.

    “Spay-ships!” cried S’zzie loudly, pouting.

    Good for you, S’zzie, thought R’shn, scowling.

    Mh’aaiivh of Old Rthfrdia leant forward, smiling. “Yes, big spay-ships, S’zzie darling!”

    Help, had she heard them all, too? R’shn goggled at her.

    “Would she come to me?” she said, holding out her arms.

    S’zzie wanted to. Determinedly she staggered past an elaborate ladyship gown of an unpleasant mottled green—fleetingly R’shn wondered what BrTl would think of the shade Lady J’nfr had chosen—an immensely attractive pair of Whtyllian legs encased in Collector’s tight black uniform trousers and gleaming boots, a frivolous blue and gold wound ladyship garment, clutching for balance at the ladyship knees in it, blissfully unaware of Lady D’ffni’s recoil of distaste, another attractive pair of Whtyllian legs encased in riding breeches, blissfully unaware of Lord Veej’a’s recoil of distaste as her sticky little hand polluted his immaculate nyr-hide, and threw herself at the elaborately wound violet and silver ladyship gown.

    “Here she is! Well done, S’zzie!” cooed Mh’aaiivh, picking her up and hugging her. “Want to sit on my knee? Good girl!”

    “I seen the spay-ships.”

    “Very good, S’zzie!” she beamed.

    She must be able to hear them all correcting it to “I saw the spaceships” thought R’shn dazedly. Abruptly she said to Lady J’nfr: “I might go home for a bit, after this.”

    –spaceships. “What was that, dear?”

    R’shn’s nostrils flared. “I might go home after this. Mum and Dad’d like to see a bit of S’zzie while she’s this age.”

    “Oh, of course, my dear, it’s such a lovely age—” She twittered on. R’shn didn’t listen. How was she going to swing it? “Um, pardon?” she said quickly. Surely the old biddy couldn’t be— Oh, mok shit! She was suggesting that “dear Raj” could take her! Collector Kadry at Mum and Dad’s? With Dad falling asleep after his tea that they didn’t even call dinner like the lordship beings did, and everybody forgetting to speak Intergalactic, and Mum’s vagueness, and she’d be sure to tell him all about the relationship with S’zzie’s frightful father, regardless of the fact that she didn’t even know all about it… On the other hand, if he could take that, he could take anything. The bowed mouth firmed.

    “That would be very kind, Lady J’nfr, if he’s free.”

    Her Ladyship hadn’t waited: she was already telling him he had to do it.

    Raj leaned forward a little and smiled across his mother at the sweet heart-shaped face that was so like Jhl’s and yet so different. “I’d love to, R’shn. It’s years since I was on Bluellia. I’m due for a lot of leave: I can go whenever you like.”

    Ugh, would it be better or worse to give Mum notice? No, she’d go into a spin, and so would Grandma. And Aunty S’zaan and all the aunties would be called in to help super-duperise the place and it’d be company manners all round— No. They’d just turn up. “Thank you very much, Raj,” she said on a firm note. “I’d like to go soon, if it’s not inconvenient.”

    “Fine,” he said nicely. “The day after they take off, then?”

    “Yes,” said R’shn firmly. “Great.”

    The Collector sat back, smiling a little. He had read every detail of her thoughts, and some emotions which she wasn’t aware of herself. Well—she was far from the pushover that he had, frankly, assumed she’d be. Good. And that firmness of hers was something he hadn’t expected at all, when he’d first met her. Good, again: weak women held no attraction for him. There was, in fact, quite a lot more to her than met the eye. But dreadfully uneducated, of course. Though that might be corrected…

    “I beg your pardon, Princess Mh’aaiivh?” he said, jumping. “Oh—tea. Yes, of course; shall we go, Mother? I think the tea-tent’s this way.” He was aware of Lady D’ffni, who had not neglected to moon cretinously at him in the intervals of mooning at Rh’aiiy’hn, willing him to take her arm. He ignored her, and, taking his mother’s elbow firmly, made very sure that he captured R’shn with his spare hand.

  

    Ships 36-40 went up, went into hyperdrive and pwlded in formation for a couple of light-years without trouble. And came back without trouble into hyperspace, and then safely into orbit round Whtyll in formation. This was the fourth time the Admiral had had all the ships pwlding in formation.

    “This is getting monotonous,” groaned BrTl.

    G’gg looked up from his maths lesson, sighing. “I suppose we could recheck the manifests.”

    “Re-re-recheck the recheck, you mean,” he groaned. “No, Trff’s got the ships’ blobs on side after all that pwlding. Don’t ask me how,” he groaned. “But every manifest represents the actual stuff on board.”

    Optimistically G’gg consulted the Manifest Notebook. “You’re right,” he said glumly.

    “I’ll set you a new problem, if you like,” he groaned.

    “All right, but make it harder than the last one.”

    “Well—a navigation problem?”

    G’gg brightened. “Yeah!”

    BrTl set him the good old Academy first-week cadet-trap, and went back to brooding and sighing while the valiant boy puzzled over it and did complicated sums and looked up the Encyclopaedia to no avail, and rechecked his figures, and so forth.

    “A game of pkwr, BrTl?” suggested L’Thea.

    “Against Regs,” he groaned. “I’m on watch. Even if there is nothing to watch.”

    She goggled at him.

    “No, well, she’d catch us,” he admitted. “Read it in the ship’s log, if nowhere else.”

    “Oh!” she said with a loud giggle. “Well, 3-D pwm, then?”

    They settled down to a harmless game of 3-D pwm.

    After five games which BrTl won in quick succession and a bit of shouting along the lines of letting him win not cheering him up, they really settled down to it, and a tense silence fell… Broken only by G’gg’s shout of “Got it!” and the ship’s pointing out before BrTl could even look up that he hadn’t.

    Captain coming aboard!—“Wait,” he groaned.—Captain on board!

    L’Thea collapsed in ecstatic giggles, gasping: “I think the ship’s bored, too!”

    As if to prove it, it then piped: Captain in the mess!

    “Stop that piping,” groaned Jhl. “Hullo,” she groaned.

    “Bad over there at Ground Control Whtyll, is it?” said BrTl unkindly.

    “Shut up,” she groaned.

    “We counted sixteen admirals the other day,” he noted. “Didn’t we, L’Thea?”

    L’Thea giggled and nodded but eyed Jhl cautiously.

    “Did you count the ambassadors?” she groaned. “And assorted diplo nosy-parkers with time on their appendages?”

    “Too many to count. –Basin of qwlot for the Captain!” he ordered briskly.

    Jhl looked weakly at the basin of qwlot. “None of them want to come with us, what are they here for?” she moaned.

    “Drink up,” said BrTl kindly.

    “I'd like to,” she muttered. “Shot glass—make that two. Empty.” She filled the glasses from the basin, handed one to L’Thea and passed the basin to BrTl. “Never mind Regs, there’s nothing to watch,” she sighed. She knocked back a mouthful of qwlot. “My feet are killing me,” she moaned, sinking onto a flop couch.

    “Your saluting arm’d be stiff, too, would it?”

    “Yeah. What’s G’gg got his head in?”

    “First-week Academy brain-teaser.”

    “Eh? Oh!” she said with an involuntary snort of laughter. “Er—carry on, G’gg.” She watched in a lacklustre way as BrTl and L’Thea, though not neglecting to sip, continued their game of 3-D pwm. Very, very gradually a slow frown formed on her forehead. Eventually she said: “BrTl?”

    “Huh?” He picked up a piece. “Er—no,” he decided. “Yes, Captain?”

    “Um, do you remember, back when we were on Whtyll, a certain conversation that centred round—uh—mammalian kinship and, um, a 3-D pwm board?”

    “No,” he said definitely.

    “Think,” said Jhl in an odd voice.

    BrTl looked up uncertainly. “Uh—oh. Mok shit. Is he asking you to reimburse him for those pieces that got, um, accidentally shattered?”

  

    “No.”

    “You’re emanating oddness,” he complained.

    “I feel odd. Remember that we worked out that Captain Marvel must’ve been a cognate?”

    “Ye-es… Oh, that! Litters of them, weren’t there? Nothing to worry about, he doesn’t want any of those white pieces or blue pieces or so forth as his IG-legal bond-p—” He withered under the scorching free-fire of his Captain’s mind-message.

    “Sorry,” said Jhl heavily. “That was quite a bright assumption, in the circumstances.”

    “I thought so.”

    “Or at least a logical one.” She got up, came over to his side, and swallowed the last of his qwlot. A discernible—well, not layer, no. Puddle? More than a smear, anyway.

    “Hoy!”

    “You’re on watch. I,” said Jhl grimly, “am going to change into my dress uniform and go to a vacuum-frozen diplo dinner party that I’d been intending to avoid like the b’x-fever, and get the Dinkum Megglybits out of a certain sparf-laden Whtyllian once and for all!” She marched out.

    L’Thea was goggling at BrTl in horror.

    “I can’t tell you,” he admitted glumly. “I would if I could, but it got so complicated… The Admiral was two green pwm pieces—nwhortlp, really—and… Sorry. There were layers of them,” he said sadly, staring at the pwm board. “Layers.”

    After a while she said very cautiously: “I think I see.”

    “Do you? Oh! Yes, well, it was all very colourful, I can remember that all right.”

    “Basic Bio,” said G’gg, looking up from his problem. “The Admiral’s father can’t be four green ones, though, because all mammalians are what you think of as paired beings, BrTl.”

    BrTl closed his eyes. “Large maxi-galaxy shake with ooff-puffs,” he ordered, sighing.

    “Ooh, thanks, BrTl!”

    “That’s all right. You can repay me by not breathing the words ‘mammalian, ‘Bio’, ‘humanoid’, or ‘Admiral’, or any morphological variation thereof, for the next five thousand light-years,” he groaned.

    “Um—yeah, okay,” he said uncertainly through an ooff-puff.

    “Pwm’s all right, though,” said BrTl kindly to the paralysed L’Thea.

    “Oh!” she said, jumping. “Oh, good.” Briskly she moved a piece.

    BrTl glared at the tower of boards. An absorbed silence fell…

    Jhl finally managed to get Shank’yar alone. It entailed marching up to him and more or less elbowing Lady D’ffni aside, but funnily enough after five megazillion light-years of diplo nothings uttered to and by the greatest clutch of intergalactic idiots ever assembled on one planet, she found that quite easy.

    “We need to talk. Tonight,” she said grimly.

    “How lovely,” he said in his diplo voice.

    “Owing to the fact that I spent the entire afternoon standing round making meaningless small-talk to a load of intergalactic idiots and mindless sparf,” said Jhl evilly, “my feet are killing me. Nevertheless I could make the effort to stamp really hard on your exquisitely hand-sewn Whtyllian non-Service footw—”

    “No!” he said with a startled laugh. “What in Federation’s the matter?”

    Do not dare to probe me, Shank’yar Vt R’aam, she sent evilly.

    He stopped, blinking. “Er—no. I beg your pardon, that was rude,” he said weakly.

    A fat, sparf-laden Fleet Lord was approaching.—Never been closer to a pilot’s seat than the passenger cabin of his Moodra Dyhillia, right.—Jhl gave the Admiral a threatening look.

    “Um, well, come to my quarters tonight,” he said weakly.

    “Very well, sir, I’ll report at one o’clock, local time.” –And be there! She saluted the plasmo-blasted Fleet Lord, and retreated.

    Shank’yar was there, in fact he was sitting rather droopily on a flop couch when the spacer on guard outside his door let Jhl in.

    “Take that cursed dress uniform off,” he said tiredly.

    “No. I’m not staying. And I haven’t come for sex.”

    “I didn’t think you had. Well—have a drink, anyway.”

    “I don’t want— Um, I wouldn’t mind a blrtlberry juice, if—” Of course it was provided instantly. Jhl sighed, sat down on a flop couch facing his, and sipped it.

    Shank’yar put his feet up on his couch, and leaned back, sipping his qwlot and Whtyllian spring water. “Why am I getting a very clear picture of a rather nice 3-D pwm set that Mother was very upset to find shattered in a megazillion pieces?” he asked courteously.

    She swallowed. “Are you? Sorry. BrTl and I were trying to work out, um, whether Raj Kadry was not only Whtyllian but a close relation.”

    “Ye-es… Who’s that other one?”

    “Well, um, that’s the problem, Shan. Um, did you ever know Captain Marvel?” said Jhl in a voice that came out a lot more pathetic than she’d intended it to.

    He rubbed his pointed chin slowly. “Captain Marvel and his Carnival Extravaganza? That being?”

    Jhl nodded hard. “Yes.”

    “I have to admit the urge to probe you is becoming irresistible. Well, there’s no reason not to tell you. Captain Marvel never existed, as such. He was a useful persona assumed over quite a long period by various Federation spies.” He heard her gulp, and looked at her doubtfully. “Not what you wanted to hear?”

    “I dunno. Um, well, what sort of spies?”

    “This is ancient history, darling. Well, so be it. Originally he was used by Space Fleet, and then at one stage, when they were very cosy with the IG M.C., the Minerals Commission also used him. Or possibly I should say, used it. Then we got him back,”—he grinned at her—“and I used him myself for one of my trips to Old Rthfrdia.”

    “As a humanoid?”

    “Federation, yes! I was there for over an IG year; I was never capable of disguising my appearance for anything like that long! Few hours at most,” he said, grimacing at her.

    “Then he was never real?” she said in a shaken voice.

    “He was as real as the beings using the identity,” he said temperately.

    “But when I zapped him, I saw his Whtyllian encoding as clearly as I see you now!” she cried.

    Slowly Shank’yar lowered his glass. “I think you’d better spell it out.”

    Grimly Jhl told him the lot.

    “Ah,” he said thoughtfully, rubbing his chin. “I presume there was some sort of gap between the zapping and the vaporising?”

    “Um—yeah, there was, actually.” Jhl chewed on her lip.

    “I see.”

    “Look, he was dead!” she said angrily. “My blaster was in perfect working order! And come to think of it, Trff thought he was dead, too: it sent a message to look closely at his encoding, words to that effect!”

    “Mm, and then you saw he wasn’t me,”  he said with a little smile.

    “Shan, then I saw some very specific Whtyllian encoding that wasn’t yours, but was very like it!”

    “Yes, I got that.” He stared into space for a few moments. “Artistically like mine, if he ended up on my pwm board as real as me or Rhan or Drouwh. So, what are you wondering? Whether Captain Marvel and Raj were always one and the same? Whether the being you encountered as Captain Marvel took over the real Raj, or vice versa? Or simply what actually happened to the spy-symb Raj showed you?”

    Jill grimaced. “All of the above. Captain Marvel certainly had a monstrous IG-Commissioner-type shield, going gdoyng, gdoyng—um, sorry. The only one I’ve encountered before or since that bears any similarity to it is Raj’s.”

    “Mm… What colour was the spy-symb?” said Shank’yar slowly.

    “Eh? Bright pink,” replied Jhl limply. “Uh—really bright.”

    “Ah. In that case I’d say you did zap some being, but it wasn’t Raj, and whatever the it-being might have thought, it may not have been Whtyllian, either. He was taking a risk, letting you see the spy-symb, though on the other hand, very possibly he’d been through all your minds and out the other side. Hold on: did the it-being see the symbiote?”

    “What, Trff?” said Jhl groggily. “No, it wasn’t there. There was only me and BrTl. It was doing its Lone Delegate thing.”

    “Mm. You assumed it was the more common or B-Class spy-symbiote, darling, but they’re usually yellow. The A-Class ones are used quite differently: when implanted in a being, they allow their controller to see and act through that being at will. I’d say there was no doubt Raj was controlling Captain Marvel during your encounter. Down to the sub-cellular level, clearly.”

    Jhl went very white.

    “It’s quite a common practice in the M.C. He might not even have been after you, initially. But there’s no doubt he kidnapped the Nblyterian as a trap for you.”

    “Mm. –No wonder he was so keen to get the spy-symb back.”

    “Of course: a very valuable piece of property. Er—did you think that all that boring probity of his would prohibit his doing anything so low as spy?” he murmured.

    “No—Shan, he was really, really vile!” she burst out. “He claimed to be you, and he taunted us in the most sickening way!”

    “Show me. …Mm. You have to remember he was sustaining the Captain Marvel persona.”

    “Mok shit! He was enjoying it!”

    Shank’yar hesitated. Then he said: “Possibly he was. He’s never really allowed you to see that hardness of his, I think. But it’s always been there.”

    “This was more than hardness. This was cruel… sick,” ended Jhl in a low voice. She swallowed hard. “The torturing of poor little paxeR was nasty and—and gratuitous.”

    His nostrils flared a little in distaste. “Yes. If you want to me to assure you it couldn’t have been Raj, I can’t, Jhl. Those tendencies are latent in many sentient beings.”

    Jhl stared bleakly at his pale blue wtmyrian carpet. “Is this carpet real?” she said groggily.

    “What? Yes, I brought it from home. Pretty, isn’t it?” He handed her a shot of qwlot. “Drink it.”

    She drank it off, and shuddered a little. “Thanks. –I suppose you can’t think of any other logical explanation?”

    Shank’yar thought it over carefully. “None that fits all the facts of the case. And I have to say it: giving you a picture of that precise genetic encoding sounds very, very like Raj. Cleverness for the sake of it—you know? He’s always been like that.”

    She swallowed. “Yeah.”

    He hesitated. Then he said: “Why are you panicking about it at this late stage, Jhl?”

    “Because he’s got his claws into R’shn!” she said fiercely.

    “Oh,” he said limply.

    “Can’t you do something?” she said on a note of despair.

    Shank’yar was about to remind her that he had quite a few other things to do. Then he bit his lip. “I see. It’s all part of bond-partnering, isn’t it?”

    She sighed. “Only as far as sentient life as we know it goes, Shan. It’s all right: if you’re incapable of it, so be it. That wasn’t a test.”

    “No, I can see that. –Don’t go,” he said hoarsely as she made to get up. “Of course I'll help you if you need my help, Jhl.”

    Jhl’s hands shook, very slightly. Finally she managed to croak: “I do, yeah.”

    “Then let’s see what the options are. Zap him, change him, turn him off R’shn?” He could feel her anxiety as she waited for him to come to some sort of conclusion. Finally he said: “Zapping seems too drastic, though considering his torture of that innocent Nblyterian, possibly not unmerited. Not to mention what he put you through. Ah—one wonders why, precisely.”

    “For fun,” said Jhl through her teeth,

    “I’m not discounting that factor. But he is a reasoning being.”

    “To find out exactly what we were up to on Old Rthfrdia,” she said with a sigh.

    “Ye-es…”

    “Don’t say hasn’t it occurred that he saw almost at once that I was there to rescue Rh’aiiy’hn for you, and then really got down to enjoying himself, the sadistic piece of mok shit,” said Jhl through her teeth. “Because as you can see, it only just has!”

    “Yes. Well, not zap him?”

    “No,” she said with a sigh. “I guess not, on those grounds.”

    “So, change him or turn him off R’shn?” He hesitated. “I don’t know that I can, Jhl. We were always very evenly matched, and I’m not at all sure that my mind’s strong enough to control him.”

    Jhl looked at him in despair.

    “That leaves zapping him, doesn’t it?” he said lightly. “No, well, look at it this way. If I don’t nominate him as my heir—and I was almost ready to, since you seemed to believe he was such a moral being—but if I don’t, how safe do you think Rhan’s life will be?”

    She swallowed hard, looking very sick.

    “And Drouwh’s, after him. –Just think about the Captain Marvel encounter again, darling. Possibly the kidnapping of paxeR was justified, if he knew you’d be bound to come after the being, but not the torture, and certainly not setting you and BrTl up to sever the wretched being’s artery. And once you and BrTl got there, none of what followed was necessary to maintain the Captain Marvel persona, was it? In his place I’d probably have made you sweat a bit, then got a few igs out of you and let the being go.”

    “Yeah.” She gnawed on her lip. “The stuff Trff removed from poor little Fl’Jfaffl’s mind was totally sickening. I can’t believe that Raj— No, I suppose I can,” she finished with a sigh.

    “So—zap him?” said Shank’yar lightly.

    Jhl bit her lip. “I can't think of any other way to keep R’shn and Rh’aiiy’hn and Drouwh safe from him, with you and me and Trff all hypering off to the Third Galaxy.”

    “No, quite. Um… Look, I’d gladly do it myself, only I think he’d pick up that sort of intention. Wait: why not make use of one of his own little tricks? Send a harmless-looking being, say a Flppu, and activate its spy-symb only when it’s within— No, all right, stop broadcasting, I’m not about to force you to choose between an innocent Flppu and R’shn’s and my sons’ safety.”

    She grimaced. “It’s a choice I’d make if I had to. I’m not totally devoid of sense.”

    “It’s one of the things I’ve always admired about you,” he said with the ghost of a smile. “We-ell… possibly this is a job where it would be appropriate to call for volunteers. –No, no: I agree, for the sake of the Expedition we can’t risk losing Trff—or even asking it to help: it’s got enough on its plate. No: someone whom Raj is now accustomed to see about the place, and whom he has already dismissed as negligible. And who would want to do this for you.”

    Jhl’s colour faded right out. “Not Rh’aiiy’hn!” she gasped.

    “So you do care about him?” he said, the blue eyes watchful.

    “Shan, don’t let’s pretend you haven’t been right through every emotion I’ve got and out the other side. Yes, I do care about him, very much. No, I don’t want to bond-partner with him. If you must have it in so many words, he’s far too nice for me, and not nearly adventurous enough. –Do not dare to smirk!”

    “I wasn’t. If I was smiling a little, it’s because that’s exactly what I feel about him. And he is my son: if I’m willing to ask him to take the risk, can’t you? I concede the matter of his own safety won’t influence him, but he’s very fond of R’shn, he thinks of her as the daughter he might have had.”

    Angrily Jhl grabbed at the pale blue senso-tissues, toning with the plasmo-blasted carpet, that were floating suggestively within reach, and wiped her eyes. “I know.”

    “Mm. I won’t say he does have free will, because we both know he also has a very strong sense of duty. I will say, we’d better practise some joint mind-control of a spy-symb.”

    Forthwith P’ll appeared, in a robe over his clingo-jamas, and, on admitting they did have a couple of A-Class spy-symbs over on the flagship, was dispatched to fetch one. He was then ordered to remove the protective glove he’d assumed, and the bright pink spy-symb then—well, Jhl didn’t see it do anything but it wasn’t in the xrillion dish any more. No wonder they’d never known there was one in BrTl’s leg!

    They got down to some practice. It was horrifyingly easy, but then, P’ll didn’t have much mind to manipulate. Eventually Shank’yar thought that was enough for the time being. He retrieved his spy-symb, and the yawning Jhl went off to her ship.

    The controllers sensed an instant’s incredulous rage and shock, and then Rh’aiiy’hn stunned the handsome figure in the black Collector’s uniform.

    Jhl sagged in her chair, groping for Shank’yar’s hand. All right? she sent.

    Yes. He squeezed her hand hard. After a moment he said: “Yes. –Look.”

    “I’m looking,” said Jhl tightly. The being that had experienced the rage and shock had all Captain’s Marvel’s cruelty and insolence and then some. There was a tremendously high opinion of himself and his capabilities—which she had more or less expected—coupled with tremendous pride, utter ruthlessness in achieving his ends, and a searingly bitter hatred of his half-brother Shank’yar. Plus the memory of all those innocent beings—Jhl’s lips tightened as that conversation in the boat off the Isle of Slrw came back to her very clearly—who had been sacrificed over the years to Athlor Raj Kadry’s ambition.

    “Vaporise him?” Shank’yar suggested grimly.

    Jhl hesitated. Then she got a vivid vision of miserable little paxeR, suspended by his ankle—and another of what R’shn’s life might be, if Collector Kadry didn’t manage to satisfy that ambition of his. And if they brought him round, he’d kill Rh’aiiy’hn, that had been very clear in that instant of recognition and rage. Her mouth tightened. “I’m all for that,” she agreed grimly.

    The controlled Rh’aiiy’hn vaporised the still figure in the black uniform.

    “That’s that,” said Shank’yar with an exhausted sigh.

    “Bring Rh’aiiy’hn back?”

    “No!” he said in alarm. “Oh, bring him back here,” he recognised, squeezing her hand. “Let’s do that, darling, yes.”

    So they brought him back to Shank’yar’s office and sat him down and, with due precautions, the pink symbiote was recovered and carted off by P’ll.

    Rh’aiiy’hn smiled weakly at them. “It worked.”

    Jhl looked at him in horror. “You can remember it all!”

    “Yes. I did say I was willing to do it,” he reminded her.

    “Shan, did you let him see— No, you didn’t,” she recognised limply.

    “His mind-powers are far greater than P’ll’s. I suppose we should have taken it into account,” he said, looking lamely at his son. “I’m sorry, Rhan.”

    “Don’t be, Father. He was as bad as I ever suspected he might be, and worse.” He passed a hand over his face. “I thought my perceptions were being clouded by jealousy… I was a fool not to have told you, Jhl; I’m sorry.”

    “That’s all right. He had me totally fooled,” she said grimly.

    “Mm. What now?” he said with an effort.

    A little smile hovered on Shank’yar’s long mouth. “I do have a contingency plan. Er, a plan,” he amended hurriedly as they both stared at him.

    “You never believed we’d manage it!” gasped Jhl.

    “No,” he admitted simply. “I was afraid he’d be too strong for us.”

    She just sat there, stunned, as P’ll reappeared, smiling, and Shank’yar explained his contingency plan, and Rh’aiiy’hn, having accepted a shot of real Old Rthfrdian uissh, laughed helplessly over it.

    The shining ships were assembling in the sky above the great plain of Space Fleet HQ Whtyll. Rh’aiiy’hn held his mother’s elbow firmly. He could feel that in spite of her calm demeanour she was both very anxious and very excited. He fancied he saw a little of the young, eager Mh’aaiivh who had attracted Shank’yar over forty OR years back, and smiled a little wryly. “That’s the flagship,” he murmured.

    She squinted into the pale blue sky. “Tell me when it goes, dearest boy.”

    “Yes,” said Rh’aiiy’hn, emanating reassurance.

    “It will be self-evident, Mh’aaiivh,” stated Shank’yar’s mother, from Rh’aiiy’hn’s other side.

    Rh’aiiy’hn very much wanted to take her elbow, too, but knew she didn’t wish for it. She did have a long stick, made of finest Ybbertullian ebony topped with an intricately chased knob of the local Whtyllian silver, and though it was ostensibly because her bunions had been playing up, he was aware that she was leaning on it heavily for support. “Mother isn’t in contact to the extent we are, Grandmother,” he murmured.

    She inclined her head in gracious apology. “Of course. Forgive me, my dear Mh’aaiivh.”

    “No, please, ma’am,” said Mh’aaiivh automatically. Rh’aiiy’hn could feel she was wondering if they would know, when Shank’yar blinked out of reach, whether it was because he had gone into pwlded space, or because his ship had disintegrated. He tried to send her the message that the Space Controllers would be in touch for most of the first few light-years, but she wasn’t receiving him.

    After a few moments a cool voice said from Lady Myr-Lah’s other side: “Perhaps we should all sit down. I think it will be some time before they take off.”

    Rh’aiiy’hn replied politely: “An excellent suggestion, Cousin Raj,” and seated himself.

   The silver ships circled in formation… And blinked into hyperspace. Mh’aaiivh’s fingernails dug painfully into Rh’aiiy’hn’s arm.

    “Still there,” he said under his breath. He felt the rush of exhilaration as the hyperspace drive forced them back into their seats, and the bite of the straps…

    “Gone,” he said, going very white.

    No: still there. “They’re still there, Princess Mh’aaiivh,” the Collector’s voice said clearly. “Fifty-one ships, all a couple of light-years out— They’re out of range,” he said, smiling at them all. “But they are all quite all right.”

    “Shank’yar?” demanded Lady Myr-Lah hoarsely.

    “Yes, I felt him, your Ladyship. He was… exhilarated.”

    There was a tiny pause.

    “He would be,” said the harsh old voice. “Well, that’s that. Our vehicles are waiting, I think.”

    “There is a reception, if you’d care to go to it, ma’am,” said Rh’aiiy’hn politely.

    “I think not. Oh—one moment.” She felt in the sparkling silver and gold reticule that matched the elaborate gown, and handed Raj Kadry a great bundle of key-blobs mixed with a few heavy old iron things. “The Vt R’aam keys.”

    The Collector’s mother gasped audibly. A little ironic smile hovered on Rh’aiiy’hn’s lips as the handsome figure in the IG M.C. uniform ignored her and bowed formally to the old lady, murmuring: “You do me too much honour, Lady Myr-Lah.”

    Instead of replying with some equally formal phrase she eyed him drily and said: “I hope not. It is what Shank’yar wanted. And you are equally my husband’s son; you have the right.”

    “Congratulations, Uncle,” said Rh’aiiy’hn, bowing formally.

    And with that the party adjourned, Rh’aiiy’hn supporting his mother, Lady Myr-Lah leaning on her stick, and the new head of the Vt R’aam family holding Lady J’nfr gh Shank'yar Kadry’s arm with one hand, and R’shn’s with the other.

    The post-pwlding checks were done, and the fleet was already out of range of the Whtyll Control Room. And certain beings had ascertained aggrievedly there was nothing much to see.

    “Um—now what?” said G’gg lamely.

    “You and Fl’Jfaffl can have a thorough scrub in the hygiene cabinets,” returned his aunt unkindly.

    “I’m clean!” he cried indignantly.

    “I’m clean!” squeaked the puce Flppu, bobbing.

    “Get cleaner. You’re about to be lined up for inspection. –And I’m about to speak to Trff about letting the puce one get into that state,” she muttered grimly, departing.

    G’gg looked plaintively at BrTl.

    “Well, what did you think it’d be like? Go on: that was an order.”

    Glumly he took the puce Flppu’s flexible appendage, and they trailed out.

    “Don’t salute, whatever being it might be that does this inspection,” BrTl then warned the blue Flppu.

    “No, Great BrTl. Am I clean?” it said respectfully.

    He could smell the scent of roses coming off it at three xathpyroid strides. “Very. You’d better go and form a line.”

    It went and formed a line of one. BrTl felt very slightly guilty about this, but not much.

    Funnily enough it was only a Captain’s Inspection that she’d meant. Not that that wasn’t bad enough.

    “Is she always like this?” said G’gg weakly when it was all over and lesser beings were at last allowed their lunch.

    “No,” he admitted. “Though Trff and me haven’t actually served with her before.”

    “No,” it agreed happily. “That’s correct.”

    G’gg’s hand stopped conveying a huge portion of meat to his maw. “Eh?”

    “They mean in the Service,” said L’Thea quickly. “I think we’d better do some maths after lunch, G’gg.”

    “Mathematics,” pointed out BrTl heavily, “lead to Astrophysical Navig—”

    “All right!” he shouted.

    And so it went on…

    Admiral coming aboard!—Admiral on board!—Admiral on the bridge!

    “I’m transferring my flag,” said Shank’yar Vt R’aam briefly.

    Jhl goggled at him.

    “Temporarily,” he said with a sigh.

    “Er—yes, sir. Given that we’ve got twenty IG years or so, how temporary is—” She received a scathing mind-message and shut up like a dendrion nut.

    “Sorry,” said Shank’yar when they were in the best guest cabin, hastily refitted as Admiral’s quarters. “I’m tired.”

    “At least you’re admitting it.”

    “Mm. Only to you,” he said on a wry note. “Come here.”

    Jhl came over to him slowly. He pulled her onto his knee and hugged her strongly. “All right? Oy, you’re not—? No,” he ascertained, sagging. “Laughing. What’s the joke?”

    “I keep thinking of P’ll, lording it as Raj in your plasmo-blasted palace!” she choked, suddenly going off in hysterics.

    He grinned. “Yes. Well, Rhan’ll keep him up to the mark, as much as is humanly possible. And we did ginger him up a bit, between the three of us. He’ll cope.”

    Jhl eyed him warily. “Don’t you mind?”

    “No!” he said cheerfully, grinning at her. “I’ve left all that Whtyllian mok shit behind me. With the wtmyrian carpets.”

    “Uh—yeah.” She’d been stunned to discover that he hadn’t brought any of his carpets or similar mok shit with him.

    “It’s on to the next thing, now! –Well, didn’t you realise that Drouwh gets that characteristic from me? And as to P’ll’s twenty percent of my encoding—who cares? I,” said Shank’yar Vt R’aam, his blue eyes shining, “am about to get an offspring that’ll have a full share of my encoding!”

    “Are you?” said Jhl feebly.

    “With a certain amount of co-operation, of course! –Half me, half your sturdy Bluellian genes,” he said thoughtfully. “Plus our joint mind-powers. It’ll be cursed interesting to see how it turns out, won’t it?”

    Since that was exactly what she’d been thinking, and he knew it, the mok lover, Jhl Smt Wong could hardly refute this unfeeling and unromantic statement. “Uh—yeah,” she admitted. “I s’pose it will, Shan.”