Most ships had their own hyper-engines, allowing them to traverse several light years at a time. But this capability had absolutely no commercial value at all. The heavier the ship, the more energy devoured in a direct hyper-jump. Mirror’s mass was actually at the upper limit for a ship with its own hyper-engine. Courier ships, leisure boats, scouting vessels—and that was about it, no other kinds in that class.
His thoughts rushed by at a speed possible only when he was connected to the computer. Alex was taking the ship along the axis visible only to pilots, mechanically noticing what was going on all around, while thinking about channel peculiarities. Quicksilver Pit, for instance, had a rather shoddy channel. Only five of its entry trajectories led to other planets of the Human Empire. All the rest led out to derelict exits, some in the middle of totally empty interstellar space, or near stars which had no planetary systems, or planets utterly unsuitable for life… or orbiting stars that belonged to alien races.
In most cases, the race that mined out a channel to a star would be its owner. But there were two alien races that never used hyper-channels at all, preferring other methods of interstellar communication. And there had been cases when a planet turned out to be so attractive that the Others colonized it without using any hyper-channels. For example, one of the exits from Quicksilver Pit’s channel led out to a planet inhabited by Cepheideans, a strange race almost as humanoid as the Zzygou and, at the same time, engaged in an eternal war with the Zzygou Swarm…
“Morrison!” Alex couldn’t quite say what had put him on guard. Everything was within the norm… for the time being. But what was that tanker doing?
The tanker was not going anywhere yet, just turning around, working out its trajectory—its orientation engine nozzles were blinking.
Its future trajectory, however, cut right across the path of Mirror.
“Tanker MT-28, tanker MT-28.” Morrison had also noticed what was about to happen. “Your present course is dangerous! Over!”
No reply.
There was no cause to panic just yet… but Alex unwrapped a trajectory forecast chart anyway. The two ships’ velocity, mass, and direction.
He froze.
If that moron attempted to turn on the engines at full force, a collision would be imminent. It wouldn’t be a catastrophe—their force fields and gravity compensation would absorb most of the blow. But it would mean that Mirror would enter the hyper-channel at an uncharted angle… and… A web of trajectories flashed and vanished in front of him, leaving only one track. The track that would lead to the Cepheideans’ sector.
To turn inside a hyper-tunnel was impossible. Once you were in, it took you where it took you… Right into the little fists of those small but warlike creatures, who would be thrilled to find a couple of Zzygou in their space.
They’d probably let the humans go, though….
There was still a bit of leeway in their speed, and Alex used it all up. The tanker seemed to freeze in space… Right… why in the world would it ram a yacht?
And then the tanker’s graviray engine turned on. The space around it distorted violently, as the full impulse started pushing the tanker’s cylindrical bulk on a collision course with Mirror.
Towards the exact point that would make the collision unavoidable and throw the yacht off into Cepheidean space.
“Morons!” shouted Morrison. He, too, understood that a collision was imminent, though he probably wasn’t aware of all the consequences. Suddenly, the tanker replied:
“Mirror, we have a problem—our engine has misfired. All systems blocked, no maneuvering possible at this time. Please clear the way. Over!”
“Not possible.” Morrison’s voice turned very calm. “Our speed reserves are up. The ship will be destroyed upon entry into the channel.”
“Increase your force fields,” came the advice of the tanker’s invisible voice. “It’s our fault. We’ll pay full compensation.”
What did compensation have to do with this? The pilot must really have thought that what was about to happen would be just an accident, lamentable but not tragic. Or perhaps he was simply lying.
Although such a lie would require him to know about Mirror’s passengers and also to have a monstrously keen eye for spatial calculations.
“Mirror to channel guard.” His own voice sounded unfamiliar to Alex. “We need help.”
Twenty-four seconds to collision impact. Subjective time in virtual reality flowed much more slowly, but that had no bearing on the laws of physics. The tanker could no longer slow down, and Mirror had no way of maneuvering.
“Channel guard to Mirror. The situation is under control. What sort of help do you require?”
Alex glanced again at the other ship. A three-people crew, max. More likely, just a pilot and a navigator…
“Annihilate tanker MT-28.”
The tanker’s pilot shouted something unintelligible. The guard stations—or, rather, their officer on duty—hesitated for a second.
Space was ruthless. A ship that was about to cause a collision could very well be destroyed. Especially if it were a tanker endangering the lives aboard a passenger vessel.
“Mirror, are you nuts?!” The guard officer had lost his official tone of voice. “The situation isn’t critical—your shields will hold!”
“Guard station, we require protection. A collision will cause us to enter the channel at an uncharted angle.”
“Protection denied. Your course is not life-threatening.”
But of course. The guard station officers were speshes as well trained as Alex. They could see all the potentialities.
“Here are some recommendations,” the officer added. And once again, a map of possible routes fanned open in front of Alex. “Reduce your speed by eight percent, maximize shield power, prepare for emergency jump to Gatané-4…”
“We can’t enter Cepheidean space!” Alex yelled. “Destroy the tanker!”
“The Empire has friendly relations with the Cepheideans,” replied the officer bluntly.
On the other communication channel, the tanker’s pilot regained his gift of speech and shouted a few choice words at Alex. Yes. If he really were innocent, Alex’s demands must seem monstrously cruel.
“Alex…”
The dark-red clot of flame. Janet. The weapons blister, his fist…
“Permission to act, Captain.” She understood there was no time to persuade the guard officer. She knew all the intricacies of the Others’ relations with each other better than any of those officers growing fat in their guard stations. Even though she had no trace of warm feelings for the Zzygou, she had no intention of pleasing the Cepheideans, either. But what could she do? To destroy the tanker would be unthinkable for her—there were humans aboard!
“Permission granted,” said Alex.
At the same moment, the reactor power jumped way up. Maybe Paul had guessed what was required, or maybe Janet had contacted him.
“Mirror to guard stations, we are addressing the problem on our own….”