Deep Space
Windward Passage
The Shanghai

Texas Boz wasn’t having any of it. The location that came out of Arella’s archaeological work and HvHuss’s artifacts was unthinkable. The Uhl would’ve sent in its slave-sentries to wipe out whatever—or whoever—was there eons ago. Plenty of Interstel ships had been sliced to nothing before even getting close to those coordinates.

“Outward, maybe, but there?” said Boz, standing by the magnificent observation window, watching the furious cosmos. “The numbers can’t be right, something’s got to be out of whack. You’re the skipper, Biggs, but can we charge in on information that shaky?” Biggs was standing with his arms crossed. He wasn’t arguing: there were over a dozen lives—some of them close friends—and a fortune in hardware on the line.

Usually quiet, Doc Biss stirred elegantly, posturing herself before speaking. “We mussst,” she said. The graceful reptilian picked up one of the miniature models of Thoss World. “They will die. The weight of hisstory iss too much for even the Thrynn to bear. The moment is fasst approaching when they—” She stopped, clenching the globe. “—when we will collapsse. It will all end.” Senator HvHuss stepped forward to refine the appeal.

“Noah, Commander Biggss Hilssfar. Noah wass the ssalvation of your kind, sscattered you acrosss the cossmos in hopess you would one day risse in renaisssance.” The eloquent statesman moved his sculpted hand broadly, gesturing to the starfield. “And you did. And despite the ssilence of a thousand yearss you have emerged to walk among the starss again.” The senator looked down at the cool deck, pressing his slender palms into each other. “We did not sscatter ourselves to the winds when the Empire fell. For us the threat was not one of fiery apocalypse. It was a spectre of living, rotting death as our civilization was besieged and eclipsed by the subtle kin of barbarians.”

“We did not ssend crude flesh to bide the millenium. We ssent our souls,” he finished, suddenly weary. “Or so it would sseem. So the Elowan tell us. We musst make this voyage. There iss no other way. There iss no more time—" An inflection of determined anger carried on his voice. “Too much has slipped away already.”

Mack and Arella were standing to the side, her arm loosely around his waist, both watching. They looked at Biggs. He was cheap and he was demanding. He didn’t have a frill to his name. He was half father and half boss. He was standing there, arms still crossed. One more time, he picked up the world and set it on his shoulders. Looking at Grix, he said, “let’s see about running this barge up to speed.” The old man was all heart.

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Next: “Thicket Wolves”