"You're talking about a large area," York observed.
"Ophiucus? I realize that. We speak of it as if it were a flat plain, but it's not. Far from it. Actually one of the stars, designated Seventy Ophiuci, lies twenty thousand light-years beyond the point where we will emerge."
"Where will we emerge?" York asked. The navigator looked at the captain.
"Near a star called Gelhart," Hull replied.
"Any particular reason?"
Hull nodded. "That's as closely as we could pin the Rigel's position at the time of the distress call. Fortunately Gelhart is quite isolated as stars go. It also has six planets, of which at least two could serve for emergency landings."
"I can't imagine it being that easy," York commented.
"Locating the ship? I'm not bothered too much on that score," said Hull. He glanced at Borstad, the watch officer. "Mr. York and I will be in my cabin."
"Yes, sir," replied Borstad.
Hull was straight and to the point. When they were seated in his cabin, he said, "I've just had a reply concerning my query on your credentials. I am instructed to extend you every facility and all aid short of actually endangering the Draco's safety."
"Admiral Borenhall?" York murmured.
"No." A baffled look came into Hull's eyes. "The Admiral of the Galactic Seas. Evidently Borenhall passed my query up the line."
"Nice of the admiral, Captain."
Hull said, "I've also received a similar message from August Karsh of E.I. However, the latter was in the form of a request." He raised his eyes, weighing York. "Karsh has no direct authority over naval operating units," he finished.
"Of course not," York agreed.
"I must admit, both the admiral and Karsh see this as sabotage -- an attempt to steal the N-bomb. Personally, I can't imagine that," Hull stated, "but I am bound to act on the premise." He paused, eyeing the agent musingly.
"Did they suggest who was at the bottom of it?" York asked.
Hull nodded reluctantly. "Prince Li-Hu. But that doesn't mean any of my own Alphan crew members are disloyal," he went on quickly.
"You can't dismiss the possibility," York suggested tactfully.
"Why? What has the Rigel to do with my ship?" Hull demanded.
"Possibly everything."
"I don't follow you."
"Alphans stranded in some bleak sector of Ophiucus," mused York. "How could they possibly return the secret except through the Draco?"
Hull looked startled. "You mean, passing it on through members of my crew?" he demanded.
"Either that or taking over the Draco."
"Never!" exclaimed Hull. "That would be impossible!"
"I imagine the Rigel's captain felt the same way," York returned. He saw Hull's head jerk and knew the shot had gone home. "There is no such word as 'impossible.' Not to Intelligence," he ended.
Hull eyed him steadily, then slumped back in his seat. "I have three or four Alphans at most," he said quietly, "none of them officers. How could such a few -- granting they were disloyal, which I strongly doubt -- take over a ship like this?"
"That's what I intend to find out."
"It's impossible, York."
"How many Alphans would you say were aboard the Rigel, Captain? A dozen, twenty?"
"Probably not," Hull admitted reluctantly.
"Any Alphan officers?"
"On an N-ship? Never."
"And yet it was taken over," York said.
"We don't know that, not for certain."
"First Level believes so."
"I'll have to act on the assumption," Hull replied heavily. "I'm certain that we'll find a quite different story, but I'm not about to take a chance. The admiral's message is binding on me, York."
"And on me," York added.
The reluctance returned to Hull's voice as he said, "I'll pass word to have them watched carefully."
"I wouldn't do that," York cut in quickly.
"Why not? You apparently believe there's danger."
"It would be better not to alert them," he suggested.
Hull said primly, "The safety of my ship is my first consideration."
"How secure would you feel if you never knew for certain that your entire crew was loyal?" asked York. He shook his head. "The only way you'll know is to bait the trap -- bait it with opportunity. Scare them, and they'll lay off. But do you believe Prince Li-Hu would surrender that easily if this attempt falls through? No, Captain, you have to catch them now. Don't, and it might well cost the Empire another ship. Aside from that, the Rigel's sabotage might be difficult to prove, perhaps impossible unless the saboteurs are apprehended in an overt act."
"Trying to relay the bomb secret?" Hull asked.
"Exactly."
"I hope you know what you're doing, York."
"I have some ideas," York evaded.
Hull stressed pointedly, "I don't want any actions taken that I'm not aware of, York. This is my ship, and I want to know what is going on at all times."
"Certainly." York looked at him. "Needless to say, I don't want it known that I'm E.I. I'd prefer to use the cover of an inspector for the Bureau of Colonial Planets."
"Those things have a way of getting around," Hull observed.
"I know they do, but at least we can try to keep the knowledge within a restricted circle."
"We'll try," Hull replied briefly. He leaned back, deep in thought. York waited, sensing that the captain was debating how far to trust him. Yet he had no choice, York decided. Not with the orders he'd received from the Admiral of the Galactic Seas. Finally Hull turned, lifting his eyes. "There's one more thing," he said.
York waited.
Hull continued slowly. "When you first came aboard, you were convinced that this was an Alphan plot -- on the part of Prince Li-Hu, to be exact."
"I know nothing that would change that viewpoint," York returned calmly.
"You also insisted that the Zuman government couldn't be involved." heads the Zuman
"I believe that to be true."
"The Admiral of the Galactic Seas also sent me a second message," Hull stated. The mud-blue eyes scrutinized York intently. "He warns that the Zuman government has attempted to establish contact with Prince Li-Hu through one of its agents."
"I wouldn't rule out the possibility," York acceded.
"I'm not."
"Frankly, I have no comment," York went on. "You should check that out with August Karsh."
"I imagine the admiral has done that," Hull observed wryly.
"Probably. Did the message mention any names?"
"The agent, yes. Myron Terle."
York nodded. "He works for Dr. G."
"Dr. G?"
"Golem Gregor," explained York. "The intelligence network."
"I take it that you know Terle?"
"Know of him," he corrected. "As a matter of fact, I spent considerable time observing him."
"Why that particular agent?" Hull asked curiously.
York smiled inwardly. The captain wasn't missing a bet. "Terle's unique," he answered. "He's a teleport."
"Oh..." Hull drew out the word.
"Does the admiral believe that Terle's move is related to the Rigel?" asked York, knowing full well he did, else he would never have warned Hull.
"He indicated that," Hull acceded.
"But he didn't say how?"
"No, just the warning."
"Well, it's something to bear in mind," York commented cheerfully.
"I'm bearing it in mind," Hull confessed. "Frankly, I'm far more worried over that possibility than I am of traitors in my crew. The spawn of that violet sun -- there is the danger. I feel it in my bones, even if the E.I. doesn't appear to believe so."
York disregarded the jibe and asked, "Did the admiral say where this attempted contact was made?"
The baffled look returned to Hull's eyes as he answered. "Heraska, of the planet Zagar. Fourth of
the Vegan sun," he added.
"Heraska?" York turned the name over in his mind. "That's almost the opposite direction from the Ophiucus Sector," he observed.
"That puzzles me," Hull admitted. "However, if he's a teleport..." He left the sentence unfinished.
York shook his head. "Terle hasn't that kind of power. He can't jump between planets, let alone star systems."
"You know that?"
"Positively."
"What can he do?"
"He can bridge any two points on a planetary surface, providing he has knowledge of his landing place. That much is essential. Or he could jump from an orbiting ship to a planetary surface."
"Without knowing his exact landing point?"
"If he considered the planet as his target." York nodded. "Of course, he might land in a dangerous area or a sea. But if he could see continental outlines, he could land within them."
Hull considered it. "He's extremely dangerous," he finally ventured.
"The most dangerous man in the universe, Captain. At least to the Empire."
"You seem to know quite a bit about him?" Hull made it a question.
York smiled disarmingly. "We've had him under observation for a long time, Captain, because he is a teleport. We know just about what he can and can't do."
"You haven't got him under observation now," Hull said shrewdly.
York grinned. "I'll have to admit that."
"So you really don't know where he is?"
"At the moment, no."
"Then how does Karsh expect to catch him?"
"By waiting."
"Waiting?"
York nodded. "If we wait, he'll come to us," he said. "I'm certain of that."
4
YORK WAS having coffee in the wardroom when Lieutenant Tregaski entered, coming directly to his table. "Captain Hull suggested you might like to look over the ship," he boomed cordially. His beefy face appeared friendly enough. "If so, I'm your appointed guide."
"Very thoughtful of the captain."
"There's no hurry," Tregaski said. "Finish your coffee. On second thought, I'll have a cup with you."
Watching him walk toward the galley with the quick, easy stride of a man who had mastered the variable gravities of space, York chuckled inwardly. Yesterday Tregaski had been willing and happy at the prospect of throwing him off the Draco; now he appeared equally ready to serve as escort. But, of course, the picture had changed drastically since the message from the Admiral of the Galactic Seas. Now he was somebody. He wondered when it would change again. Not too soon, he hoped.
Tregaski returned and sat across from him. "Ever been on a destroyer before?" he asked.
York admitted he had not.
"I'll fill you in," he offered. "The Draco's fairly small but compact, what is designated as a GP Class -- that's Galactic Patrol. You'll find a lot of them out around the rim. She's outfitted for extended patrol and troubleshooting, the quelling of possible minor disturbances and things like that."
"Long-range lasers, cobalt bombs, nucleonic bolts..." York eyed him musingly. "I should think you could quell quite a disturbance."
Tregaski grinned broadly. "As a matter of fact, we can, everything but nova a sun," he confided. He went on describing the Draco. Its squat hull contained three decks, the upper of which largely was taken up by the officers' quarters, wardroom and galley. The bridge lay forward, slightly elevated above the same level, and was flanked by two weapons compartments. Other weapons rooms were aft. The second deck -- quite crowded, he emphasized -- contained the crew quarters, mess hall, galley, laundry and hospital, in addition to various weapons compartments and crew landers. The third deck roughly was divided between operational compartments and storage holds.
Although Tregaski spoke in an offhand manner, York sensed the pride with which he described the ship, its officers and crew. Plainly he believed there was but one real fighting ship in the entire Empire Navy, and the Draco was it.
"Captain Hull is a wonderful skipper. There's not a man aboard who wouldn't give his life for him," Tregaski proclaimed. He glanced up defiantly. "He should be an admiral."
"Perhaps someday." When Tregaski didn't answer, he asked, "Where are you from?"
"Pola, third of the sun Fomalhaut." A touch of bitterness crept into Tregaski's voice. "I suffer the same handicap."
"Handicap?" York asked quizzically.
"I'm an outworlder, like the skipper."
"It's all part of the Empire," he observed.
"Perhaps, but it reminds me of that old saw about some being more equal than others."
"In what way?"
"We have to work harder for promotion, spend more years between grades. And we're usually stuck out on the rim -- planets like Upi." Tregaski gestured with a wave. "This is the top, as high as the skipper can go. He can never command an N-ship or even a cruiser. They don't make admirals from the outworlds," he finished.
"You have a point," York acceded.
"Isn't it the same everywhere? How about the E.I.?"
"I suppose," he assented, thinking that the lieutenant was exactly right. The top echelon of government, both military and civilian, was restricted to the Earth-born. Provincial and planetary governments held scant power, serving more as intermediaries between First Level and the local governments beneath them than as administrative decision makers. And First Level meant Earth. If Mother Earth were benevolent, as she was in many ways, she was also a greedy mistress when it came to the control of power. None knew that better than himself. And yet most of its people were happy, prosperous, contented; a man could go as far as his ambition and ability drove him. Or almost as far. All in all, the Empire was the most durable and stable government mankind ever had known. And yet -- York appraised the thought unhurriedly -- there was no denying that it also was a stagnant government; once a behemoth that reached avidly throughout the galaxy, it had come to what sociologists termed "the pause of centuries." But nothing paused for long, he reflected. The pause was but the prelude to a great retrogradation; the sociologists had said that, also. And it was true; he could see the signs on every side.
Tregaski sighed and said, "Not that I can complain. The Navy's been pretty good to me."
York changed the subject. "Does the Draco have provisions for landing parties?" He saw the question spring into Tregaski's eyes and explained, "I'm thinking of unusual planetary surfaces, the type we possibly might encounter."
"We can land anywhere on anything but a sun itself," asserted Tregaski.
"Your main duty is patrolling the Zuman system, isn't it?"
A quick look of caution flooded Tregaski's face, and for a moment he didn't answer. "Did the captain say that?" he inquired noncommittally.
"At our first meeting, if you recall."
"I remember now."
"It's not hard to figure," York pursued. "There's not much reason for a base at Upi other than Zuma."
"There are a few scattered systems," Tregaski replied defensively.
"But nothing to amount to much, eh? Personally, I believe it's a waste of effort. The Zuman government couldn't penetrate interstellar space if it wished."
"They've got plenty of interplanetary ships," retorted Tregaski.
"Certainly, but they're still locked to the Zuman system."
"How do we know that?" Tregaski challenged. "How do we know what's happening on those damnable worlds? Those freaks might pull anything."
York said, "It's the E.I.'s business to know."
"I forgot, you've been there." Something akin to respect shown in Tregaski's eyes. "What would they do if they caught you?"
York shrugged. "The trick is not to get caught."
"In a nest of telepaths? I don't see how that is possible."
"We have our own tricks."
"We must have." Tregaski shook his head admiringly. "I still don't see why we don't use the N-bomb and settle the issue for good."
"They're h
umans," York observed.
"Humans?" Tregaski's face took on a caustic look.
"Earth descendants," York said gravely, "and when you consider it, part of the Empire, even though we have quarantined them."
Tregaski scowled and said, "We quarantined them because they're dangerous."
York shook his head. "No, because we feared them," he corrected. He caught the lieutenant's eye. "Did you know that the great majority of people on the Zuman worlds aren't telepaths? Most of them are just like we are."
"I've heard about those freaks," Tregaski rebutted.
"'Rumor is a wild wind,'" York quoted.
"You can't sell them to me," Tregaski said heavily. He put down his cup. "We'd better get moving."
As York followed the lieutenant from the lounge, he realized that Tregaski's strained attitude was due to his defense of the Zuma's, words that countered everything the lieutenant had heard and believed. His life had been dedicated to sealing off the violet sun. Hull's life, too, he thought. It made no difference that York knew better; his was but a single voice shouting against the implacable indoctrination of years. Yet someday the people of the Zuman worlds would go out from their violet sun, and the Empire would be the better for it -- a fact he suspected many First Level officials realized. But the surrender of power wasn't easy.
Passing along the central corridor, York noticed several recessed cabinets marked EMERGENCY MASKS and asked about them.
"They're mainly for entering compartments that have been deoxygenated, as in the case of a flash fire," Tregaski explained. "They also hold pressure suits with self-contained masks for landing on planets with low barometric pressure or insufficient oxygen. Ah, my favorite character -- " He broke off as he led York into the ship's hospital.
Dr. Benbow looked up from a magazine and drawled, "Thought for a moment I was actually going to have a patient."
"Not this trip, Doc. You've met Mr. York, I'm sure."
"We've met," Benbow affirmed. He looked at York. "Taking the grand tour?"
"It's a compact world," answered York. "I'm amazed."
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