[Y168 - SOMEWHERE NEAR THE KZINTI-LYRAN BORDER]

The forward screen of the recently christened Ice on Fire shows a frightful sight. A fully armed Lyran Cruiser with ESGs active rushes toward the Kzinti BC.

"Prepare to launch all standard drones and fire all disruptors and primary phasers on my command."

A series of acknowledgements come in reply to Firemane's command.

"Windrider, keep our turn mode open. I want them on a different shield as soon as they fire their first salvo. And don't let them cross the 'T', if at all possible."

"I'll do my best," the navigator responds as his claws play their song on the control panel.

The enemy ships race toward each other like knights jousting, remaining just off a direct line toward one another by a hair's breadth. At 40,000 kilometers, Firemane calmly utters the command, "Fire."

The forward viewscreen brightens as the bolts of energy from the Kzinti BC strike the forward shield of the Lyran warship. The outline of the Lyran's shield becomes visible as energy tries to force its way through the screen to inflict damage on the Lyran hull. The effect is eerie when mixed with the glow from the ESG, now only a few meters from Firemane's ship.

WhiteEar speaks as the ESG contacts the forward shield of the Ice on Fire. "Captain, urgent message from Central Command!"

"Discontinue simulation, "Firemane orders, and the Lyran ship disappears from the forward viewer.

Several cats are quite surprised by the revelation that Firemane was running another simulation. Most of the cadets, having been fully briefed on how they had been tricked by their Captain when they raided the pirate outpost, had assumed the `Mindbender' simulations were over. Wanting to keep the young crews nails sharp, Firemane had elected to continue the sims, having begun another `Mindbender' moments before. Firemane is forced to suspend the sim for the incoming message from Fleet Command.

"On screen, WhiteEar."

The image of the cat who gave Firemane his command appears. Firemane notices a worry deep within the Admiral's eyes. "Yes, Admiral?" Firemane asks.

"Switch to channel Alpha-Romeo-Tango. Use scrambler nine point two," is the terse reply.

The message contained within the command gives Firemane a start. He nods at WhiteEar and the image disintegrates for two seconds before resetting.

The conversation between the Admiral and Firemane is innocuous to the casual observer, because it is in code. The senior officers present realize quickly that something big is going on, but not knowing the key code words, can only guess at the meaning. Most of the younger cats are simply confused by the exchange.

When the conversation concludes Firemane is grim.

"Navigator, plot course to the Rayshifan system."

As the navigator makes the computations, Firemane opens a channel to engineering. "Chief, I want warp six point six in five minutes."

"Not a problem," comes the instantaneous reply from the engineer over Firemane's wrist-comm.

"Flight duration will be approximately thirty hours," Firemane adds.

After a brief pause, (while the Chief curses, Firemane suspects), "Understood, sir," comes the reply over the comm-link.

"Course plotted and laid in, sir," Windrider notes.

"Execute course change -- current speed."

Firemane watches the starfield shift slowly as the ship turns. He tries to think just what to tell his crew. The mission they had just completed had been risky for the boatload of just graduated cadets, though the fates had been kind by giving them only a single ship to deal with. Now, however, the story may very well be different.

He keys the ship wide P/A and speaks, "Attention, great cats. We are officially at war with the Lyran Empire." Firemane pauses to let that bit of information sink in. "The first major battle of the war occurred yesterday. The fleet to which we have been assigned has been engaged and has suffered losses. We have been ordered to rendezvous with several damaged ships, assist in affecting repairs, and escort them to the nearest repair dock. We will intercept the others in approximately thirty hours."

Firemane closes the channel momentarily, trying to find words which will prepare the kittens for what lies ahead. The pirate raid had been a facade, and the results cannot tell the Captain anything of how his crew will respond should they encounter any Lyrans in the coming days. What would have made me feel good at that age? Firemane asks himself.

He keys the P/A again, "All cats will have double rations of fresh meat at next meal. Eat well and rest well, great cats." War leaves little time to rest. Firemane hears the echoes of Rushwind's words. "Firemane out."

"WhiteEar, let all Department heads know we will have a planning meeting in . . . one hour in conference room one. I'll be in my quarters."

"Aye, sir."

Firemane stands and exits the bridge, nodding at Halftan. The Lieutenant takes Firemane's place in the command seat. He wonders if they will meet any Lyran warships on their new mission. The thought appeals to him greatly. His upper lip curls back, unconsciously, revealing his white razor sharp fangs.

***

Three battered Kzinti ships make their best speed toward the Rayshifan system. Their best speed is not good. The Light Cruiser Spellslinger, Destroyer Gryphon, and Frigate FF78 are the remnants of what had two days before been the fifth fleet.

An albino cat sits in the command seat of the Spellslinger, examining a large paper diagram of his ship. The first assistant to the Chief Engineer stands beside the Captain, peering at the diagram as his tail twitches nervously. The leopard-spotted cat shows no signs of pain, though his right side fur is matted with blood and several areas of his coat are clearly singed.

"Do it," Captain FireEyes spits at the engineer, handing the diagram to the cat.

The engineer takes the plans and exits hurriedly. He passes a much smaller Kzinti, who heads directly for the Captain.

"Captain, the other ships are in somewhat better shape than we."

"I should hope so, Pathfinder," the Captain snaps irritably. "Were any of their back-up Marconite Crystals spared?"

"I'm afraid not, sir, but they did send some of their light-speed comm-link equipment back with me on the shuttle, but no neutrino modulator."

The Captain grimaces, "Give me the full damage report."

The courier takes a breath and begins his report, "Repairs on warp drive progressing normally. Rerouting of impulse power through APR number one will begin shortly. Damage control crews are working on the gash in port section aft, but there's not much left to save. The explosive decompression was devastating. FF78 has finished repairs on sensors, but is still experiencing sporadic loss of signal. The Gryphon's rear shield is being rebuilt from scratch - two hours . . ." The report continues as the messenger relays the information to the Captain. He ends his report by reminding the Captain Spellslinger's subspace comm-system is useless, and light-speed communication is not yet working.

The Captain stands and shouts at a technician extricating himself from the communications console only five meters away. "We must be able to communicate. You better have something working soon, cat!"

"Captain, if the communicator storage room had not been destroyed I might have the materials to improvise. But, without a Marconite Crystal . . ."

The Captain grasps the technician by the throat, his nails set to plunge into the smaller cat's flesh. "I know that, imbecile! One chance to live, cat. Can you figure out a way to communicate with our companion vessels?"

The technician's eyes are wide with fear as he struggles to speak, "Maybe. . . eff . . . em . . . ray. . . di. . . oh."

The Captain releases the Lieutenant.

"What is this ray-dee-oh?"

"It is an ancient speed-of-light form of communication, which the Terrans were most fond of many centuries ago."

"Will the impulse engine create interference?" the Captain asks, still irritated.

"There is no way to know until I build a transmitter and test it."

"What about the other ships. Will they need transmitters, too?"

"No, sir. Their NM equipment is versatile enough to send and receive in the necessary bands."

"Rigging time?"

"It will take a couple of hours to construct, test, and tie it into the encryption net."

"Do it."

***

Three Lyran ships glide silently through Kzinti space. The three ships are ancient by spacefaring standards, though two of the ships have received conversions in the last six months. The War Cruiser Fervent, a destroyer for nearly three decades, looks like an entirely different ship with the center pylon added to the catamaran design. However, Captain Hightail can only see the negative side of the conversion, since his ship among all the destroyers that had been converted did not receive the shield or phaser upgrades promised. But the War Destroyer Fear Render had received a similar fate in its conversion from the tiny frigate to the slightly more viable DW trimiran hull she now sported. Neither ship had the power to adequately run the weapons added, and the addition of the FF+ Defender of the Race was no real help.

As the ships maintain a triangle formation and alter course toward a small solar system at the edge of their sensor range, Captain Hightail growls in frustration. Again nothing is going right for him or his squadron. The Captain silently curses himself for his stupidity. I actually volunteered for this assignment. How could I have been so blind?

For the thousandth time he goes over the sequence of events that has led him to this point -- lost in Kzinti space, searching for the Lyran fleet his squadron is supporting.

Of all the Captains in the Lyran fleet, he feels least qualified to command a starship. His sire had used all types of political pressuring to get him this command. It had taken Hightail only hours to find out why he had been chosen. The Fervent is a jinxed ship. The ship was crippled before she was originally released from spacedock in a bizarre accident during engine start up. Though this had been more than thirty years past, her service record had subsequently gone down hill.

After examining the Fervent's history, Hightail discovered the ship had never been involved in a winning engagement. The ship had been crippled so often it had been decommissioned twice, only to be repaired and reinstated when the military leaders got desperate for hulls. And he knows the only reason she has been upgraded to War Cruiser class was in the hopes that the conversion could somehow break the jinx. That, and the fact that during the coming war they would need every hull they could muster.

The only accomplishment the ship can claim is its ability to survive. The ship has always managed to return -- on more than one occasion with fewer than a dozen cats still alive.

The two ships with the Fervent have careers almost as bad. The DW Fear Render's worst episode had not even involved combat. At least it was not believed to have involved combat. The ship had gone on a standard patrol, between wars with the Kzinti, and disappeared. For several months it was assumed the ship had been destroyed. Then another frigate on routine patrol found the ship drifting in space with no one on board.

The log for the Fear Render stopped two days after its patrol had begun. There was no hint of trouble. All recording devices on the ship had simply stopped, leaving no record of what happened to the crew. The really worrisome aspect to those trying to solve the mystery was that the ship was on a course for Kzinti. It was extrapolated that the ship at its rate of drift when found would have reached Kzinti space precisely 1,000,000 years (Lyran) after departure for its mission. A thorough search of the last logged coordinates of the ship and surrounding systems had revealed nothing.

The Defender of the Race came closest to having a bright spot in its career. Two years past it had stumbled upon a Kzinti frigate in an asteroid belt. After summoning help, the Kzinti frigate had been destroyed, but not until the Defender had been gutted and the DD Stalker had also been crippled.

Because of the reputations of the three ships, each was given only the worst misfits and foul ups for crew. If you weren't really good enough to serve on a starship, but had enough political pull to get a commission, chances were you would get assigned to the 'terrible trio'.

"Captain, picking up a meson trail."

"Which direction does it lead?"

"Sir, it goes in opposite directions."

Hightail closes his eyes and asks with a patronizing tone, "Which way has the more dense meson concentration?"

"Hard to tell, sir. Contact is fading."

Thoroughly irritated, he barks, "All stop. Tactical display. Overlay scanner and sensor information."

The Fervent comes to a halt, followed quickly by the Fear Render and Defender of the Race. Hightail ignores the near collision of the other two ships. He examines the display on his forward viewer and marvels at his crew's stupidity. He silently curses the fact his ship is currently without a qualified science officer due to an unfortunate accident two days previous.

The poor stupid cat monitoring the sensors does not know what he is doing, but nonetheless had at least mentioned the meson activity. The squadron of Lyran ships had flown straight through the trail. Hightail knows the Lieutenant must have waited until contact with the trail before speaking. His decision is made for him. Whether the trail is Lyran or Kzinti, they must follow it until they find the starship or ships that left it.

He grumbles to himself before addressing his squadron, Our fleet must really have been desperate to call us up out of reserve. They're probably already destroyed by now, but I've got to follow orders and 'come to their aid' if I can. If we wander much further into Kzinti space we'll see the lights of their capitol without so much as a telescope.

He finally speaks, "To all ships: Reverse course, warp one point one. Scan meson trail perpendicular to our own for density."

The trio slowly turns and heads toward the trail. The DW Captain responds quickly. "We detect a definite increase in meson density -- heading three zero three mark five."

"Acknowledged. All ships come to course three zero five. Plot parabolic spiral around meson trail, warp factor three. Yellow alert!"

The three ships accelerate, moving like hounds on the hunt. Though most of the cats on the three ships are not very bright, they all understand one thing all too well. The course they follow leads deeper into Kzinti space.

***

As the three crippled Kzinti ships orbit the small planet in the Rayshifan system, Captain FireEyes growls in anger at his communication technician's latest failure.

"Sir, there must be a power drain somewhere in the reactor transducing unit. The radio is working, but every time we try to boost the signal, the power . . . well, sir, it just disappears."

"Energy does not vanish, C.T. Find the problem in your relay circuits and fix it!" Now!!"

The communication technician has lost most of his fear, due to his own anger and frustration. He cannot understand why the hookup is not working. If the power is bleeding off it would show up somewhere. If the system didn't work it would almost certainly overload and send sparks flying. Neither had happened. He heads for engineering to ask the Chief for his opinion -- once again.

On the other Kzinti ships the same feeling of frustration continues to grow within the crews. The engineers work feverishly with practically no success in getting damaged systems up and running. Some systems seem to work fine momentarily, then have unexplainable power loss.

FireEyes listens to another disturbing report.

"I can't explain it, sir. The transporter chief was beaming supplies over and we simply never got an incoming signal."

"So their transporter malfunctioned during operation?"

"They sent word that they showed everything worked fine until the beam hit space and then they just lost the signal."

"Impossible. Some Lieutenant is hiding his incompetence! Use the shuttle to transport supplies until they track down the cause of the mishap."

"It will be done, sir."

Captain FireEyes shakes his head as the messenger leaves the bridge. He wants to scream, Where is our escort? but knows he will be lucky if an available ship can be found. His thoughts are interrupted by his acting science officer.

"Captain, sensors are nominal, but active."

It is the first good news he has heard in some time.

"Any contact?" he asks hopefully, praying for their escort to be near.

"I . . . I'm not sure."

"Why? What have you got?"

"At extreme sensor range, bearing . . . sir, it's straight back down our meson trail. It could just be interference. There's definitely some sort of local interference that's unfamiliar to me. I'm getting a lot of ghosts and anti-ghosts.

The Captain knows that anti-ghosts (a clearer than clear anomaly) usually are caused by faulty equipment or extremely strong gravitic fields. "A problem with the sensors or scanners?"

"With the shape we're in I'd say that's highly likely."

"Keep an eye on that anomaly. If you get any indication of what is causing it, I want to know."

***

Unbeknownst to the Kzinti, all around the crippled ships a horde of energy based creatures called D'raenians skitter about like children on a playground. Though each D'raenian is an individual entity, they travel as one and in many ways are a single being. The D'raenians are like a person with hundreds of personalities, any one of which can lead the group, though individual cells can still act alone.

While the Kzintis contemplate their situation, the D'raenians discuss theirs.

<These hosts have too little food. Let's go look somewhere else.>

<Where are we supposed to go? Outer Andromeda?>

This remark brings a change in the beings as each individual becomes a little unstable.

<Don't even mention those life-suckers!>

<Yeah, we came a long way to be rid of them. So lets not talk about them.>

<Well, these hosts are better than nothing.>

<I wonder why they stopped here?>

<They aren't stopped.>

<Well, they're just flying around that rock. It doesn't even have any food clouds.>

<Maybe they're waiting for someone.>

This brings an increased stability in the group, as all like the prospect of more hosts arriving.

***

The Chief Engineer on the FF78 sets down a heavy tool and licks the back of his right forepaw, severely burned during their last battle. The thought runs through his mind that this phaser capacitor should be holding a charge, and if not, the power has to go somewhere. He slaps the side of the panel with his left paw. Surprisingly, the capacitor lights and dials suddenly read charged and available.

Before he can relay this good news to his Captain the battle stations klaxon sounds. He knows his Frigate is in no shape to fight. "Here we go again," he mutters as he limps toward the main engineering console.

***

The planning meeting had gone well, and Firemane feels that he has done all he can to prepare his crew for whatever happens. He silently prays that The Fates allow the ships he is supposed to rendezvous with to reach their destination and be ready to go when his BC arrives. He knows with each minute they are getting closer to the Lyran border and tries not to contemplate what might occur if he is forced to begin searching for crippled Kzinti ships. As updates had been sent by Central Command regarding the outcome of the massive battle fought only yesterday, the Captain had become increasingly convinced his escort mission would not likely be a simple one. He strokes his chin nervously as the Ice on Fire closes in on the system.

"Picking up garbled transmissions, sir."

"Can you identify sender, WhiteEar."

"Unable to get a clear signal. My guess is it's being jammed at the source."

"Bearing."

"Dead ahead . . .the Rayshifan system."

The significance of this exchange between Firemane and WhiteEar is not lost on the young soldiers present. Jamming means the enemy is near. The Rayshifan system means they are well inside the Kzinti border. Only a full fleet of warships or an idiot would drive so far into enemy space.

Neither Firemane nor his crew had expected to find enemy ships at the rendezvous. In fact, Firemane had fretted and planned on the probable scenario that no ships would be at the rendezvous point and the Ice on Fire might have to search for the survivors of the fifth fleet, bringing his boatload of kittens ever closer to a potentially deadly Lyran threat. But the knowledge that an enemy prescence is so far within Kzin space curls his tail.

"Warm the phasers and arm all capacitors as soon as possible. Prepare two scatter-packs. First with six type one armored and the second as a shatterpack. Best speed to the rendezvous."

A series of acknowledgements are given to Firemane as his crew works smoothly and efficiently. Many crew members wonder if this is real or another 'mindbender' simulation. Others have gotten beyond this point and realize it does not matter -- as long as they perform well. Firemane wonders how many will panic if they really must fight.

WhiteEar interrupts Firemane's chain of thought. "Captain, I'm not sure if this is genuine, but I'm picking up transmissions from the system on very bizarre light speed frequencies."

"Coded?"

"No, sir."

"On speaker."

The bridge intercomm comes to life with the static filled sound of AM radio. " . . . 'ay have partial warp drive in an hour. We need several #QZ4 conduit diode convertors, but we have some extra phase guide vector enhancers."

Another voice replies, "What's your status on reload drones?"

"We have about half the drones we'd need to reload the racks we still have left."

"Okay, we'll trade the converters for the enhancers. I just hope our escort arrives before we need this stuff."

"Affirmative. We'll have half power restored in about thirty minutes, and then work exclusively on the warp drive initiators. We'll deal with the weapon systems as we can get to them. I wish we could get moving. This place makes me nervous."

"Me too. I also wish they could find what's wrong with the transporters. The Chief still claims something gobbled up the beam in outer space."

"Riiiight. BlondEye out."

"Sawtooth out."

The static rises as WhiteEar tries to regain the signal. "I can't get it back, sir. Our warp drive distortion is disrupting the signal as we get nearer."

"Of course. How long for that message to travel here?"

"Rough approximation -- maybe ten hours."

"Time to system?"

"Roughly eight minutes."

Firemane slaps his wrist-com, "Chief, I know the engines are strained to the max, but if you can give me anything else at all, we'll only need it for five minutes."

The bridge is silent for a moment and then every ear flicks up as the timbre of the engines changes ever so slightly. The Chief's voice follows in a low growl, "That's the best I can do, Captain."

Firemane does his best to conceal his elation, but fails miserably as he responds. "Understood, Chief."

Firemane closes the channel as he nods toward Halftan. "All stations report."

The exec examines his status board and responds, "All stations show ready."

Firemane's eyes brighten as his confidence in his crew grows. As the Ice on Fire speeds toward the system, Firemane only knows there were damaged ships there ten hours ago, and some type of jamming currently. The jamming is strangely comforting, as it indicates there are still two forces involved in whatever is happening in the Rayshifan system. He prays they are in time to help.

***

As the Lyran ships enter the system, Captain Hightail smiles. Never have I been given such a truly perfect opportunity, he thinks. Three crippled Kzinti vessels? Even this group of dregs and misfits cannot let victory escape us this time. He puts on his most serious expression to cover his inward elation and gives his combat instructions over the coded battle channel. "Standard 'V' formation, 10,000 kilometers stagger. Fear Render, you take the right, Defender of the Race, you take the left."

Hightail does not notice that the two ships are currently in 'V' formation, but on opposite sides. At his command the two vessels immediately veer toward each other to change positions. The sudden maneuver brings the three ships to within fifteen meters of ramming one another. Warning alarms go off and computer controlled auto-evasion safety locks are all that prevent a humiliating end to the squadron.

Hightail shakes his head at the near disaster and thinks to himself, If we shoot like we fly, this engagement won't last long.

***

The three crippled Kzinti ships try desperately to accelerate away from the three healthy Lyran vessels that appear. Captain FireEyes knows running is futile, but tries to buy enough time to charge phasers and prepare for combat. Though he knows the Lyrans will destroy him, he hopes to take at least one of the enemy ships to oblivion as well.

He and his crew watch the Lyrans on the forward viewscreen. When the Lyran fleet changes formation a young cat on the bridge of the Spellslinger purrs in awe, "My gods, what precision flying!"

The Captain snaps ferociously at the Lieutenant, "They only did it to try and unnerve us, kit. They know at this distance the maneuver seems more impressive than it really is." With the Lieutenant properly chastised Captain FireEyes regains his composure and thinks to himself, That kit was right, I've never seen such precision flying in all my years as a Captain. If they shoot like they fly, this engagement won't last long."

***

The D'raenians delight at the arrival of the new hosts and most of the conglomerate moves unseen toward the three speeding Lyran vessels.

<I told you they were waiting for some more hosts.>

<And you told us the Andromedans were friendly.>

This remark elicits 'laughter' from the other D'raenians.

Between the two fleets a flash of what seems to be lightning appears for a moment as two of the D'raenians tussle playfully with each other.

***

The Captain of the Lyran CW, Fervent, sees the flash and looks at his science officer. The science officer shrugs, having no idea what caused the light.

The weapons officer interjects before the Captain can verbally blast the science officer. "Enemy ships at extreme disruptor range. They're trying to get the planet between us."

"Fire disruptors. Target the Light Cruiser."

The CW fires, while the two other Lyran vessels can only watch, their disruptors lacking the range of the CW's. Only one bolt reaches the Kzinti ship, barely tickling its newly restored rear screen.

The Lyran Captain shakes his head as if to clear it. It seemed that two of the disruptor bolts had stopped half way to the enemy ships.

"Only one hit, sir," the science officer informs the Captain, though the Lyran commander had already seen that from the visual he is still puzzling over.

"Rearm disruptors. Best speed," he orders, choosing to ignore the 'optical illusion' for the moment.

***

<Boy, that tasted good!>

<Yeah, those hosts can cook!>

<Well, I've had better.>

<And we've had better company.>

Again, the D'raenians bicker amongst themselves, with many of them feeling revitalized by the energy they have absorbed. Others are irritated because they have not yet gotten a taste of the alien energy.

A series of several 'lightning bolts' arc across the space between the opposing fleets. The Kzinti ships are behind the planet, beginning their turn to engage the Lyrans and do not see the inexplicable flashes. The Lyrans see them clearly, but can only wonder at their cause.

***

"Evasive. Go around that disturbance to port," orders Hightail, trying to quell the familiar feeling of dread growing within him.

The trio of ships weaves perilously close to each other as the two subordinate ships react to the command ship's actions. The near collision takes Hightail's mind off the flashes momentarily as he wonders if he should consult with the other Captains before pushing on. When he sees the Kzintis turning to face him he is surprised. He comes to his decision immediately though.

"Attack plan Delta-Omega-Gamma!"

The trio of Lyran ships consolidates, less than 10,000 kilometers apart. The plan is a simple overrun. Hightail's ship and the Fear Render have primary offensive responsibility. The FF, Defender of the Race, is assigned the defensive role -- allocating power to tractor and preparing to activate its ESG. It is the Defender of the Race's responsibility to deal with the enemies drones. The Lyrans charge toward the Kzintis, ready to claim victory. As the continued scans of the Kzinti vessels reveals the enemy ships are even more seriously damaged than at first thought, Hightail's mind rests a little easier. Even these ships cannot fail to take advantage of a situation so heavily weighted in their favor.

***

The Kzinti ships also consolidate, knowing this will spread the effect of any ESG damage. The ships lay a pair of dummy mines before they go behind the planet, knowing if the Lyrans pass through the area with active ESGs, the tritanium casings can absorb some of the sting from the energy spheres.

FireEyes glares at the screen, cursing The Fates for allowing him to be caught. He also curses the Captain of the escort vessel who has not shown up.

"All weapons ready. Shuttle manned and ready."

FireEyes nods approval to his Exec. Knowing the Lyrans would jam any sub-light communication with his other ships, his plan was given as the Lyrans arrived. One pass at the Lyrans. Whoever is not picked as a target should peel off. The ship or ships that are damaged are to go in the opposite direction. The hope is to give someone enough time to escape as the others sacrifice themselves. FireEyes hopes his ship is the target. He does not wish Spellslinger to be a lone survivor.

The two forces close to 80,000 kilometers, now facing directly toward one another. It is a galactic game of 'chicken', each side waiting for the other to blink.

***

The hair on Firemane's chin is a frazzled twisted mess as he continues to twist the fur with his razor sharp claw, impatiently waiting for his vessel to reach their rendezvous point. His left leg begins to twitch unconsciously as he counts the seconds.

"Scanners picking up three . . .no, six vessels, sir," Highclimber announces.

"Can you identify them?"

"Not at this range, but they seem to all be medium . . . maybe a smaller hull or two."

"On screen."

Highclimber transfers the display of his science station to the forward viewer. The screen shows two tightly bunched trios approaching each other -- a planet and single moon just to their left.

"Warn off the Lyrans. Standard challenge."

"Not close enough with their jamming, sir."

"We're too late," Firemane curses.

The Lyran and Kzinti trios reach 20,000 kilometers and combat begins in earnest. The results are not what was expected by either side. The Spellslinger launches the only active shuttle in the crippled squadron followed by a single drone.

The Lyran Captain, Hightail, knowing he outguns the Kzinti ships chooses to divide his fire between the CL and DD, while the Kzintis concentrate on the Defender of the Race with its active ESG.

On the Ice on Fire, the computer generated image indicates an exchange of fire, but the computer shows no flashes of ships exploding as Firemane expected. He puzzles over the inconsistency as Ice on Fire closes on the battle.

***

Those directly involved in the combat also marvel over the lack of damage. Several disruptors among the two fleets miss and slice harmlessly through space. But over half the weapons on both sides simply don't produce their expected energy trails. The result is each ship targeted is hit with only one disruptor and a few phasers.

Nonetheless, the FF78's forward shield is breached by the fire, though internal damage is inconsequential. The Defender of the Race's #1 shield is only dented. The ESG's effect is also unusually ineffective. It does destroy the single drone and shuttle, but the rest of its energy is inexplicably spent as well.

As the two fleets fly past one another in astonishment, Hightail demands to know what happened to the 33% of ESG power that did not get used. He is furious, but not surprised, when the reply he gets is, "I have no explanation, sir."

"Kzinti fleet launching more drones," Hightail's sensor officer informs him.

"When we get them lined up, drop a mine to take them out," he commands. "Rearm phasers on all ships, we'll get some manuevering room, then circle back to hit them -- THIS time with better effect." His last words are said as a threat.

His communications officer interrupts his coming tirade, "Captain, we are being warned off by the Kzinti BC Ice on Fire."

"I know of no such ship. It's obviously a bluff. Deploy mine," he commands.

"Mine away," comes the instantaneous reply.

The Captain smiles at the quick response. His grin turns into a snarl as he watches the drones move into the mine's detection radius. A small blast flashes briefly on the viewscreen, but all the drones continue to close.

Could all the drones be slugs?!? Hightail wonders. Refusing to believe it, but unable to explain the incomprehensible failure of the mine, he mumbles his next orders. "Defender of the Race and Fear Render circle to port, we'll go starboard."

The Lyrans divide their force and the drones turn to follow the two smaller ships.

"Fear Render, raise one ESG, radius 10,000 kilometers to deal with those drones," Hightail orders. "Science officer, I want an explanation for why we did so little damage on our initial pass, why the frigate's ESG was obliterated by a single drone and shuttle, and why that t-bomb did not take out those drones. And 'I can't explain it' is an unexceptable answer. Understood?"

The poor, young Lieutenant squeaks out a barely audible, 'yes, sir', before returning his full attention to his instruments.

"Sir, a new ship on long range scanners!"

Hightail stares at the viewscreen in disbelief as the Ice on Fire appears. He then curses every god he knows and a few he doesn't at this latest bad development. He goes on to curse the Kzintis for existing, the Lyran military for giving him this command and lastly his parents for spawning him into the miserable existence called a life. Meanwhile, his ship continues to move away from the other Lyran vessels as all three ships try to turn and chase down the crippled Kzinti ships now behind them.

***

"Commander Highclimber, analysis of situation."

The tan cat speaks as his claws dance across the science controls, "One Kzinti Light Cruiser, one destroyer, and one Frigate, all damaged substantially: forward shield on Frigate is down. Light Cruiser, Spellslinger's rear shield down roughly ten percent. Lyran CW, DW and frigate unscathed . . . no, minor shield damage on the frigate. No evidence of ship explosions in the area."

"They just did a point-blank overrun on each other and only one shield is down between both fleets. There should have been more damage on both sides," adds Halftan.

"I agree. Something strange is going on here." Firemane's conclusion is an understatement.

***

<Hey, these hosts are really obliging.>

<Yeah, they're really dishing it out.>

<Well, they're sure wandering about enough. I wish they'd sit still so we could tell when they're gonna serve up some more.>

<Now, I want to try some bolt food. That ray food is only really tasty if you're real close.>

<So, try some. Nobody's stopping you.>

<You know, I think they have more than one flavor of ray food.>

<Hey! There's another one!>

<Oh, boy!!> The mob agrees as they head toward the Ice on Fire.

***

"What is that strange lightning, Highclimber?"

"Unknown, sir. I'm reading a very strange pattern on . . . this makes no sense. There's a . . . lack of energy wherever that lightning shows up."

"Well it's moving toward us. Any danger?"

"Possibly. Too little data."

Firemane is tempted to fire a probe at it, but knows combat must come first.

"Keep an eye on that disturbance, Highclimber, direct any unused lab resources toward identifying it. Windrider, keep us away from it as much as you can."

"Aye!" Both cats answer.

The Ice on Fire charges toward combat at almost maximum combat speed. The Lyrans begin turning away from his BC, while the Kzinti ships swing about hoping to consolidate with their heaven sent ally. The Kzinti trio turn left, flying into the path of the unscathed Fervent -- the leader of the Lyran squadron. The other two Lyran ships' wide turn keeps them well away from the combat zone for the next minute.

***

The Kzinti crews on all three damaged ships give a jubilant roar of approval at the arrival of the Ice on Fire. FireEyes snarls menacingly at the image of the Fervent on his viewer. He thinks, If we can survive this pass, our firepower will be nearly equal. He is pleasantly surprised when he is informed the boosted ray-dee-oh is now working properly. This only supports his feeling the tide has turned and the Lyrans are in trouble.

He contacts the rest of his squadron and issues his orders as he puzzles over the appearance of the Kzinti BC, wondering why the visual display seems to make the hull of the warship seem rust-colored. He does not dwell on this, but does make a mental note to have a technician look at the viewscreen once combat is done.

***

On the Fervent, Captain Hightail echoes FireEyes' thought aloud. "That's the ugliest warship I've seen in my entire life. Is our viewer malfunctioning as well?"

The bridge crew is relieved that Hightail's tirade has ended without him strangling a Lieutenant. The poor science officer fails to respond to the Captain, thinking the question was rhetorical.

Hightail, frustrated beyond control, calmly walks over to the young cat and puts a claw on his shoulder. The Lieutenant looks up into Hightail's eyes with apprehension.

Hightail grins.

The officer's fear grows.

The phaser in the Captain's hand, which the lieutenant had not noticed, fires. The young officer screams as the bolt of energy sends unimaginable waves of pain outward from the point of impact in the center of his chest. As he dies, his last thought is that the blood in his veins has been turned to molten iron.

Hightail cheerfully says, "Dismissed," as he shoves the limp form of the lieutenant aside and begins pressing controls on the science console.

"They're going behind the moon, sir."

"Meet them on the other side -- blow the Frigate, then rejoin our task force. Stand by to fire disruptors. Don't miss this time."

"Yes, sir," the helmsman and weapons officers respond.

***

"They're going to get another pass before we get there, sir."

"So it appears, Highclimber. WhiteEar, hail the Lyran leader."

"Channel open . . . no reply."

"On speaker. This is Captain Firemane of the Kzinti BC, Ice on Fire. I offer you a chance to surrender."

The screen maintains the view from space and no reply is received.

Halftan asks, "Did you really expect them to surrender, sir?"

"No. But if it ever works, they'll call me a genius."

Highclimber and Windrider give each other a wry look as they continue to gain respect for their friend and comrade.

Since the Ice on Fire cannot reach her crippled compatriots before the Lyran CW gets another pass, Firemane waits to see the outcome. He notices a flick of Commander Highclimber's ear out of the corner of his eye.

"You've found something, Commander?"

"I've identified the Lyran ships, sir. These three ships must have the worst military record I've ever seen."

"Excellent! Any recent misadventures?"

"No, sir. No noted activity in the last three years, except for a minor skirmish by the frigate."

"Keep that info ready. I may need it later."

"Lyran ESG active," Halftan notes.

All eyes lock on the viewer as the trio of crippled Kzinti ships meet the Fervent head on.

Energy beams dance between the ships. This pass produces quite different results from the earlier overrun. The Lyran's forward screen collapses and the CW takes moderate damage from the barrage of Kzinti phasers.

The poor FF78 gets the worse end of the exchange, though. The engineer on the ship manages to restore a minimal forward shield to deter the Lyran, but the offensive output of the Fervent is too great. The shield is wiped away, allowing the Lyran phasers to reek havoc on the tiny ship. A gutted hulk is left floating powerless in space.

Only the skillful maneuvering of the other two Kzinti ships prevents the ESG from finishing the Frigate. The pair lose a portion of their forward screens for their trouble.

Firemane curses under his breath as he views the carnage. "If only a minute sooner."

"Captain," Highclimber interrupts his thoughts.

"What have you got?"

"The anomaly does not appear to be stationary, sir. I can't get a precise fix, but I think it might be heading back toward the Frigate."

"When did it change course?"

"Immediately after they started firing. And sir, it's not just one . . . entity. There are pockets of . . . non-energy all over this system. I can't get any data though. It's like our scans are . . . absorbed."

Firemane looks at the screen as another flash appears. He flicks an ear as he recalls the garbled transmissions they intercepted during their approach and an idea comes to mind. "Highclimber, try to contact that anomaly. Try differing strengths of signals, power types, frequencies, whatever. Tie it into the translator program. Those 'anti-ghosts' are alive. I'm sure of it!"

"That will take some time, and I'll need every lab resource I can get. I might even need to divert power to arm probes."

"You've got it. WhiteEar, see if you can get our sister ships to add their lab resources to ours." Firemane activates his wrist-comm, "Chief, give Highclimber discretionary power to the lab computer and for probe arming for information."

"Affirmative," is the reply on the intercom.

The Ice on Fire reaches the two still moving Kzinti ships, as the enemy vessels move to consolidate. "Windrider, swing around to the right. Reduce speed to match our comrades and put us as point in standard battle formation, 10,000 kilometers stagger."

"Aye, sir."

"WhiteEar . . ."

"I can only raise the Gryphon. The Spellslinger is having trouble with her comm system. Gryphon says they lost contact after the last pass."

Firemane is a bit puzzled by this since the Spellslinger was not shot at during the last pass. However, he does not hesitate in taking action. "Transporter room," he barks into his wrist-comm.

"Standing by."

"Drop rear shield. All techs onto the Spellslinger."

"Understood, sir."

The junior bridge crewmen are puzzled at this exchange, for the Captain had not ordered anyone to the transporter room since coming on duty several hours ago. The officers on the bridge exchange glances, seeing more of Firemane's preperations paying off.

When the Ice on Fire drops her rear screen, the Spellslinger gets the idea and quickly lowers her forward shield to allow the transport of engineers and repair gear. One unlucky cat inexplicably fails to materialize.

Firemane knows it will take a few moments to get communications up with the Spellslinger, but feels certain he has an advantage to exploit, if he can just figure out how.

The Lyrans consolidate and rearm. Their wide turn takes them to the far side of the planet, well away from the Frigate hull lying dormant near the small moon. As the trio of Lyrans come about and begin closing on the three Kzinti ships, Firemane gives a very strange order.

"'Biter, target the CW with a single starboard phaser."

"But we're still over 100,000 . . ."

"Just do it."

"Locked on target."

"Fire."

The gun fires, though the Lyrans lie outside the weapon's optimal range. The beam stops half way to the target.

"What . . .how . . ." 'Biter mumbles.

Highclimber, having watched what transpired on his science monitor begins to see Firemane's strategy. He begins giving the Captain information before Firemane has a chance to ask for it.

"Anomaly closing fast, sir. Headed right for us." The last statement is said with a hint of mirth.

Firemane notices the emotion in the cats voice and nods knowingly at his science officer. "Stand by 'Biter. Do not fire until I give the word."

"Captain, I have the Spellslinger on audio."

"Not now!"

The ships close to 30,000 kilometers and a Lyran ESG forms just in front of them.

"Hold on."

The ESG rams the forward shield of the BC with half its normal effectiveness. The Lyrans then open fire, unleashing everything they've got at the Ice on Fire. Only a fraction of the energy gets through, though it is sufficient to knock the forward shield of the warship down and does minor hull damage.

"Launch drones."

The drones are launched at point blank range, giving the Lyrans little time to react. When the drones are launched, the other two Kzinti ships open fire on the Lyran DW with results similar to the Lyran's previous fire at the BC.

As Firemane curses the actions of his allies, Highclimber speaks, "That fire drew it away from the DW, sir."

"Fire all bearing weapons at the DW!" Firemane orders immediately.

'Biter complies, shooting every rear-firing phaser he has against the enemy ship, and after what he has just witnessed is surprised at how effective his fire is. The rear shield of the DW falls and heavy damage is inflicted on the enemy ship.

Two drones hit the Lyran hull, exploding and causing severe damage to the vessel. The other two drones go off, but do no damage, seeming to fizzle rather than explode.

The two groups pull away from each other to recharge and reassess the situation.

"Open channel to our squadron," Firemane commands.

The voice of FireEyes is immediately blasting over the bridge speaker. "What kind of battle plan do you call that? Only the luck of Rushwind saved you. Who do you . . .?"

Firemane growls deep in his throat before he interrupts his fellow Captain. "Captain, if you want to go home alive I suggest you sit down, shut up, and do everything I say to the letter. I have no time to explain. Trust me and we'll win. Disobey me and you'll be space dust. Understood?"

The air is charged with tension as Firemane's challenge hangs in the air.

"Understood," comes the reluctant reply.

"All ships, swing left to course two-six-three mark four. Recharge phasers, but transfer the disruptor power to tractors. I'm going to anchor the lead CW this time and I don't want them to grab one of you in reply. I may direct you to fire phasers at bizarre times and targets. Don't question my commands!!" The last statement is given with extra emphasis, and the Kzintis on the other ships take note of the implied threat.

The combatants slow slightly for the next pass. The energy drain for the Lyrans has become extreme. The DW is practically useless, its weapons 80% destroyed and down to 50% power. The CW and frigate slow so the crippled ship can keep up. The extra firepower the DW represents is nominal. Still, it is an added target for the Kzinti to consider and Hightail knows this will increase the chance that the Kzinti will shoot at a ship other than the Fervent.

The Lyran Captain is baffled by the Kzinti BC's battle strategies. Little the Kzintis have done so far makes sense. "Continue to target the BC," he commands, praying their weapons can find their mark this time.

***

"Light!" WhiteEar says excitedly. "Highclimber, I think they communicate with light frequencies!"

"Yes! That would make sense. But probably not in our visible spectrum. I'll see what I can do."

Firemane prays to The Fates that WhiteEar's guess is right.

On the Spellslinger, FireEyes nervously sharpens a claw with his teeth. When Firemane re-establishes contact, FireEyes drops his tail in disbelief as Firemane explains his tactics to the two damaged ships trailing him. "I will fire a phaser at them at long range and lead us in. If they choose to ignore me and go for either one of you as a target fire one phaser at them and wait for their return fire. Do not fire an alpha strike unless I direct it! I've prepared for an HET if necessary. Do your best to stay close if I'm forced to use it. If I tell you to fire aft when there's no target there -- do it. A single phaser-three will suffice."

The crew members on all three ships give each other questioning glances. The general feeling among the Kzinti is that Firemane is insane, though many among the crew of the Ice on Fire are growing more accustomed to Firemane's unorthodox tactics. Firemane knows it is only because he commands the largest ship present that he has the authority to command the two crippled ships with him.

***

<Hey, look! They're moving toward each other again. More food!>

<Uh, No thanks. I'm full.>

<"Yeah, full of yourself.>

As the two D'raenians start to tussle with each other another notices something unusual.

<Hey! Look at the pretty lights. They remind me of . . . Hey! That host just talked! And he said, "Food!>

<Come on! They're trying to talk to us!>

The D'raenians scamper toward the Ice on Fire, amazed at this latest development. They have rarely had a host speak to them. Generally, the hosts who have spoken seemed angry, but the novelty of conversing with a new life form always gives the D'raenians an amusing diversion.

***

On the Ice on Fire, Firemane is pleasantly surprised when the anomaly moves toward them before he is forced to fire. Highclimber mattes his sensor reading over the tactical display, showing the D'raenians as a blue cloud moving about the system. Various areas of the system contain small clouds, though the largest cloud is now directly in front of the BC, moving just fast enough to stay in front of the Kzinti warship.

"Any explanations?" Firemane asks.

"I think I've made contact, but it's still gibberish at this point," WhiteEar reports.

"Like Lyran codes?" 'Biter snorts.

"More or . . .," WhiteEar ends his statement as 'Biter's words give him an idea. "Highclimber, route the translator's output through the code-breaker computer."

Highclimber nods, "It's worth a try." He presses a few buttons and says, "Here goes," as he taps the last control. The result is immediate.

WhiteEar plucks the receiver out of his ear and shakes his head as if to clear it. What he hears seems to be 15,000 kittens all meowing for attention and food. After turning the volume on the output down he replaces the ear-receiver.

It is at this moment the Lyrans fire at the BC. Having drawn almost the entire D'raenian cluster to her bow with Highclimber's attempts at communication, the Ice on Fire withstands the Lyran onslaught with minor damage to the #2 shield.

On the bridge of the Fervent, the crew of the Lyran CW is surprised by their Captain. They had thought their commander had already used every oath possible. His tirade now includes oaths in at least three non-Lyran dialects. The cat is so totally beyond control he draws his energy pistol and fires at the image of the Kzinti ship on the large view screen at the head of the bridge. The screen blows up in a shower of sparks.

"Accelerate and disengage. Course one-eight-oh mark four!" He shouts and then storms off the bridge holstering his weapon.

The navigator complies instantly, elated to be leaving this combat zone. With the viewer destroyed, the bridge crew does not witness the rest of the battle.

As the Exec takes the command seat he mumbles just loud enough for the navigator to hear, "The way the gods treated us today, I'm surprised he didn't miss the viewer."

***

"Launch drone -- target DW. Attach tractor beam."

"No lock-on with anchor attempt."

"Blast!" roars Firemane as he activates his command channel to his squadron. "Fire rear phasers."

The two smaller ships comply, though Firemane is certain the order is followed reluctantly.

"Sir, it's still on us," Highclimber informs Firemane.

The Lyrans veer away, skirting the drones, and head past the Kzinti squadron.

Firemane sees his allies have a clear shot at the Lyrans and orders an alpha-strike on the Lyran DW. Though many weapons on the Kzinti CL and DD are either destroyed or out of arc, the damage is sufficient to eat through another of the DW's rear shields and inflict considerable internal damage on the warship.

"Full about. Stay on that DW's rear."

The Ice on Fire pivots 180 degrees to follow the Fear Render. The sudden rotation of the ship overtaxes the grav-compensators throwing those unprepared to the floor or the starboard side of the ship. The strain on the hull is heard by the crew as the metal groans in protest.

"Can you get it off us?" Firemane asks his Comm officer.

"Trying sir," WhiteEar snorts, irritated at his lack of success.

Firemane watches the Lyran CW and frigate slowly edging away from him and the DW. The Ice on Fire could accelerate to catch the ships, but Firemane opts to finish the DW first.

"Aha!" Highclimber exclaims.

Without asking, Firemane can see the reason for Highclimber's cheer. The anomaly moves past the DW, staying just ahead of the Fear Render's bow.

Firemane leans back, savoring the crushing blow on the rear of the Fear Render.

"Fire all phasers."

The rear shield of the Lyran ship would not have helped against the force brought by the Ice on Fire. In a moment the ship vanishes in a crimson ball of flame. The explosion is half the strength expected, though the Ice on Fire does feel a nudge from the blast.

"Hard to starboard. Regroup with the others."

As Windrider executes the maneuver, Firemane notices the two remaining Lyran ships racing away toward Lyran space.

Halftan asks, "Are we going after them?"

"No. Our mission is to escort these ships back to a repair facility. Plot their last position and bearing -- log it in and keep a sharp lookout in case they attempt to return. Downgrade battle status to yellow in two hours."

Firemane moves to the Comm station to examine Highclimber and WhiteEar's work. "What have you got?"

"Small vocabulary, rudiments of language structure -- some grammar. The decoder is doing a quick job of learning, though."

"How'd you get them to move?"

"I said there was food in front of the DW."

"Food?"

"As near as I can tell, they 'eat' energy. And sir, their overall intelligence is . . . lacking."

"How so?"

"Well, sir . . . it's like talking to a horde of undisciplined school kittens."

The console beeps, indicating the D'raenians are trying to contact the Ice on Fire.

"What should I tell them, sir?"

"I'll handle this. On speaker."

WhiteEar gives Firemane a look clearly saying 'You asked for it', and activates the channel now tied into the science console, before giving Firemane a nod.

"This is the Captain of the Ice on Fire. I . . . "

A clamor of voices responds much too chaotic to be understood.

"Please, just one of you at a time."

After a few more moments of noise the D'raenians quiet and one voice speaks."

<Hi! We happy food. You happy cook (static) and smart. We happy new hosts. Few talk. We see not fire, and ice not burns. We not hear talk.>

Firemane gives Highclimber a quizzical look, which the science officer returns.

'Biter interjects, "I think they're confused about the name of the ship."

"Of course," says Firemane, "They may not understand the concept of ships at all since they don't need them."

The D'raenian interrupts, <We fed, but we happy food food food, if cook cook cook.>

A twinkle lights in Firemane's eye as he responds, "We are finished cooking today, but the other ships . . . er hosts that left are going to give a huge feast far from here."

At this announcement the cacophony of voices rises jubilantly, drowning out the D'raenian who had been talking.

Firemane asks, "Would you like to know where?"

A horde of voices responds in the affirmative.

Firemane motions for WhiteEar to mute the conversation.

"Can you communicate the coordinates of the capital of the Lyran Empire to them?"

Several purrs can be heard among the bridge crew as WhiteEar looks at Highclimber for assistance. The Science Officer flicks his ears and says, "We'll find a way!"

Moments later the blue cloud moves away quickly on a course toward Lyran space. The crew remains silent until the cloud disappears from the viewer. Then the crew spontaneously lets out a victory roar. Firemane howls with them, savoring the sweet taste of success and his first Lyran blood.

As the commotion dies down Firemane retakes his command chair and directs the squadron to rendezvous with the all but destroyed Frigate. Technicians are beamed aboard to aid the surviving crew members on the tiny vessel in restoring power.

After getting the Frigate moving, a message is sent to the nearest repair facility to send a tug to meet them. The Ice on Fire helps the little ship along to speed their arrival by attaching a tractor beam and towing the frigate. Firemane knows the BC is not built for doing extended towing and makes sure the tractor circuits are not overtaxed by occasionally releasing the beam and slowing the squadron to stay with the nearly helpless craft.

It takes several days to rendezvous with the tug, during which the crew of the Ice on Fire is filled in on what transpired during the first official major battle of the fifth Lyran-Kzinti war. They in turn recount their recent destruction of a pirate ship and base. Many retellings of the story leave out the fact the crew thought they were doing a simulation during the scenario. However, the talk usually turns back to the Lyrans and the question of how much this war will escalate and how quickly.

The Ice on Fire pulls into orbit around Ibreia, the outermost repair facility on the Lyran border. Silence fills the bridge as they view some of the evidence of war. The main repair dock is occupied by a severely damaged BC. Several other warships in various states of disrepair hang in orbit as technicians move about in pressure suits likes fleas doing their tasks.

The Spellslinger, Gryphon, and FF78 take their place in line for evaluation. Though crippled, the Spellslinger and Gryphon are relatively intact and should return to combat in a month or two. The frigate, however, may be deemed irreparable and scavenged for parts.

Firemane activates the ship-wide P/A and speaks, "Great cats, once again I commend your efficiency during the last few weeks. We are at war now, so all cats are on constant call. Still, we should have a day or two here before reassignment. I am granting eight hours liberty for those cats who received 98% efficiency or above. When they have returned those with 93% up will get liberty. This rotation will continue until all have received liberty and then will repeat until we have our orders.

Remember, you are on call and are required to have a comm-unit with you at all times. In addition, the cats here have work to do, so I want no trouble caused by any overzealous members of this crew. Firemane out."

"Halftan, you have that duty roster?"

"As requested."

"Good. You have the conn," Firemane says taking the crew list and exiting the bridge.

A few minutes later Firemane walks into the base Commander's office. Several Captains and other high ranking officers are scattered about the spacious lounge. Firemane approaches the Commander's assistant.

"Captain Firemane of the BC Ice on Fire with report for sector 0604, quadrant R-14."

"Captain of what?"

"The Ice . . . BC number eighteen, PCC #82188."

"Eight-two-one . . . ah, yes. Just commissioned last month. The Commander is expecting you. Go right in."

Firemane enters and is surprised to see the Admiral and Professor Rushwind seated with the Base Commander at the large marble table in the center of the room.

"Come in, come in Captain," the Commander instructs, his stone-colored fur bristling with excitement, though patches of white hint at the many years the officer has served his race. "Say hello to your uncle."

"It's good to see you Professor, though something of a surprise," Firemane says as Rushwind rises and approaches him. The two cats place both paws on each others shoulder at arms length.

"I hear you've already gotten a couple of kills," Rushwind notes evenly, his pride only showing in his eyes.

"One confirmed, one high confidence," Firemane shrugs.

"I thought both were confirmed," the Base Commander states, retaking his seat.

"The Orion flew into a star."

"I see. A little difficult to confirm," Rushwind nods.

"About as hard as confirming a black hole kill," Firemane fires back, a twinkle in his eye.

Rushwind's tail twitches at the reference to his battle in The Tempest so many years ago. Firemane sees the unrest in his 'uncle's' eyes and wonders why the reference would cause Rushwind to become anxious.

Rushwind changes the subject, "You already know Admiral Tantail. This is Pawbiter, Director of Ops for the entire repair facility."

Pawbiter nods at Firemane and speaks, "I understand, except for being unpainted, your ship is in excellent condition."

"Yes, all systems are functional, though we need quite a few spare parts and there is some minor hull damage that could use a good metalsmith."

"All that is being taken care of, including a full drone load with as many armored drones as we can give you. Admiral?"

The Admiral takes his cue, rising to look out the base viewport spanning the back of the office. He speaks with his back to the others, scanning the group of damaged ships hanging motionless outside.

"We've had some interesting discussions over what we are going to do with you, Captain."

"Do with me?"

"I originally had no intention to let you retain command of the BC when I gave it to you," the Admiral says, turning to face the others.

"What!?" Firemane's cry is a mixture of disbelief and anger.

"Let me finish -- then ask your questions. You see, intelligence had tracked down a leak to the White Dwarf. Your file had been tagged long ago with a 'questionable background' notation, since your birth records were destroyed. You were our prime suspect, so we devised a plan to get you off the Dwarf to test you and, I had hoped, to keep the Lyrans from knowing the size of the force we were sending to the Selvaron system. Unfortunately, your uncle was correct and I was wrong."

"Yes," Rushwind interjects, "I tried to convince them you were not the spy. I failed there and it cost us."

"It was not your failure, Rushwind. It was your uncle's recommendation that got you the BC command, Firemane."

Firemane is now more confused then when the Admiral began his explanation. "So you gave a suspected spy command of a BC?!?"

The Admiral purrs at the comment. "I am well aware of how strange that may sound, but Rushwind's expertise in covert affairs has grown to nearly equal his strategic combat talents. He pointed out that if indeed you were the spy, to pull you off the White Dwarf without cause would be an instant tip off we were on to you, and we'd lose any chance of tracking down any contacts you might have."

"So the Lyran sabotage and the loss of the command crew was just a ruse?"

"Regretabbly, no. The Lyran sabotage was real. The command staff was killed as I told you. The timing was convenient for Rushwind's plan, however. He convinced us to play both ends of the game. On the assumption you were not a spy, he convinced us you could pull off the mission successfully. If we found you were indeed a spy . . . " the Admiral hesitates, "Chief Sabretongue had orders to watch you, and if he felt it necessary, to kill you."

An intense anger wells up inside Firemane at this revelation. The others can see the hair on Firemane's neck rise. Firemane remains silent, quickly regaining control of his temper.

Rushwind breaks the silence, "But obviously, he didn't find it necessary."

"I suppose I should be happy then that my Chief Engineer didn't kill me before our enemies did!?" Firemane hisses.

"As a military commander you should always be glad to be alive," Rushwind reminds him.

"I expect you plan to debrief my officers now," Firemane spits, still obviously agitated.

"No, we've already received their full report via subspace."

"But I . . . WhiteEar."

"Precisely. We knew he was a classmate of yours, and suspected he would be your logical choice for the position. He was in on the entire plan from the beginning. After your victory over the pirates, in addition to your official report, he sent Sabretongue's report on your conduct during the mission, encrypted and on a side band. Overall, the report was exemplary," Rushwind notes.

"We included additional orders for the both of them when we diverted you to escort duty," the Admiral adds.

"Of course, when things went bad at Selvaron, we were left with a dilemma," the Admiral interjects. "While we have now discovered the real spies, your history still forced us to consider your loyalty. With Sabretongue's report, Rushwind finally convinced me to risk sending you into a more volatile situation."

"Begging your pardon, sir, but the pirates were pretty damned volatile."

"Yes, but what you weren't told about the pirate mission was the destruction of the base was not critical. If the opposition had been too great, Sabretongue would have simply taken command and disengaged."

"But the . . . " Firemane pauses suddenly seeing the Admiral's reasoning. "Our presence there would mean they would have to relocate whether we destroyed the base or not. The pirates need secrecy to be effective. Once a base is discovered they've got to move it."

"Which causes as many problems for the pirates as having a base destroyed. The supplies aren't critical to them because they steal them anyway," the Admiral concludes.

"The destruction of the pirate ship was an unexpected bonus," Rushwind notes, winking at Firemane to show it was not a surprise to him.

"I'm impressed by how quick you were to see the logistics of the situation, Firemane. Rushwind, you were right about how swift this cat is," the Admiral says.

Firemane takes the compliment well, but adds, "If I were really swift, I would have thought of it before now."

"Remember, Captain, you had just been promoted, put in command of a brand new top-of-the-line vessel, and directly ordered by the Admiral himself to destroy that base," points out Rushwind.

"True." Firemane pauses, then begins giggling. The others present aren't quite sure how to react.

"What is it that amuses you, Captain?" Rushwind asks cautiously.

"I just realized that while I was running my entire crew through a 'mindbender' simulation, you were running me through my own Captain's simulation."

Everyone purrs at the revelation.

But what orders await me now?" Firemane asks as the laughter dies.

"That is what has us in a quandary, Firemane. We had hoped we could prevent our current conflict with the Lyrans from escalating with a victory at the Selvaron system, but frankly we are not as ready to fight as the Lyrans."

"How bad is it?"

"We've lost some outer surveillance posts, a few minor systems and one Mobile Base."

"A base? Then they really have pushed into our territory."

"We can handle the loss of the base. Our cats did manage to self-destruct before the Lyrans could capture it, but we have a more urgent problem to address."

"Which is?"

The Admiral's voice takes on a very serious tone as he refocuses his gaze out the window. "We've lost a large number of command grade officers. They've specifically targeted ship Captains of all classes, paying particular attention to our larger warships and other variant ships. Over the last two years, we had noticed an increased effort to sabotage ships during construction, and in several cases the senior officers happened to be killed as a result. It wasn't until the incident with your BC that we figured out the real targets all along were the command officers. Rushwind, you know the details better than I."

Rushwind takes the Admiral's cue, "We had it backwards. They were trying to kill Captains all along and if they could damage a ship in the process, so much the better. The effect initially was minimal and it was only considered a minor annoyance. However, during the first engagements of this war, when they've had the opportunity, the Lyrans have been specifically targeting our bridges. Several times they've been successful. We've taken steps to counter the strategy, but the damage has already been done."

"What damage?"

"In the fifth fleet, we have only three Captains with combat experience against the Lyrans who are healthy enough to perform."

"Three?"

"Yes, and you're one of them," The Admiral notes.

"Worse still," Rushwind continues, "You're the only one of the three with fleet command experience."

"Fleet command?! I helped three crippled ships survive a Lyran attack. I didn't exactly lead them."

"According to WhiteEar's report, when Captain FireEyes questioned your authority you yanked his tail so hard, he still hasn't coughed up his tongue."

The Admiral's ears flick at this remark as do the Base Commander's.

The humor eases the tension in the room somewhat and the Admiral continues the briefing.

"Firemane, the Lyrans are regrouping and we expect will soon launch a second strike. We do not have time to pull the necessary personnel from the Klingon border, and doing so might just goad the Klingons into attacking. We've got to have a fleet commander now, and as strange as it may seem to you, you're the most qualified candidate for the spot."

Firemane considers the Admiral's words carefully before responding. "Admiral, I have great faith in my abilities. I would eagerly wager my skill in single combat against all comers. However, one of the greatest assets anyone could have is the knowledge of one's own limitations, as long as you always strive to do away with them." Firemane glances at Rushwind, whose words he has just quoted.

"You and I both know of many fine Captains who performed miserably as fleet commanders. To understand all the subtleties of fleet engagements takes years to fathom, not days. A competent fleet commander has to recognize patterns and react to them instinctively. A moment's hesitation could cost an entire fleet."

"Dammit, cat. I told you -- we have no choice!"

"You do have a choice, sir."

"What? What choice?"

"You've got an experienced fleet commander available."

"What . . . Who?"

"Professor Rushwind."

The Admiral looks carefully at Rushwind, who nods knowingly to the Admiral.

The Admiral turns to Pawbiter and asks, "Opinion?"

"Totally on the level. This cat hates Lyrans with a passion. No doubts whatsoever."

Firemane is puzzled for only a moment before the Admiral explains. "Pawbiter is a spy-catcher."

Firemane's tail curls in confusion.

"He's been genetically enhanced and specially trained to spot infiltrators by sense of smell," the Admiral explains, taking a seat as Pawbiter rises.

Pawbiter purrs, "It is really not a difficult task. No cat alive can control their scent perfectly. Whether hypnotized, mind-controlled, or fitted with a techno-implant, the smell of disgust, fear, love, hate, and many more are constants among both our species. Every single reference to the Lyrans, whether direct or indirect, brought out the scent of disgust in you. Every cat in our society is reared to loathe the Lyrans, but traitor or not -- a born Kzinti working for the Lyrans could not mask the scent of conflict and concealment with any known technology. You could not possibly be working for them with your level of hatred. As a matter of fact, I've rarely found a level of disgust and contempt as high as yours. You're pure Kzinti from nose to tail."

"I'm still a bit confused," Firemane says, addressing the Admiral.

"It's very simple, Captain. No Lyran spy would consider passing up the opportunity to assume command of an entire fleet. Even if for only one battle, the results could be devestating to us. Rushwind said you'd turn down fleet command for exactly the reasons you mentioned -- though he didn't say you'd provide a suitable replacement."

Rushwind starts at this remark, eliciting a purr from the Admiral.

"But Pawbiter is Central Command's final authority on these matters. We are hoping to use his talents to rid of us of many spies, though this will certainly take quite a while. Currently, he is currently one-of-a-kind, and he must be in the same room to work his magic. I just we had had his talents available back when BlackEye nearly took command of the third fleet at the end of the last war. You should also know that very few outside this room are aware of his abilities and we hope that fact shall remain a secret for as long as possible."

Firemane nods.

As the Admiral concludes his explanation, Rushwind rises, crosses the room to the food processing unit and retrieves four snifters of Ffaesarrrian milk. Handing a glass to Firemane he says, "Congratulations, you passed your final test."

The Admiral speaks as Firemane takes the glass, still dumbfounded. "You now have official command of Kzinti Battle Cruiser #18, Ice on Fire, until such time that your performance as Captain suggests a reassignment in accordance with said performance."

The three cats lap at their drinks, savoring the intoxicating nectar. Firemane follows suit, savoring the moment, wondering if he is now finally truly beyond suspicion.

Taking the cup from his mouth, Firemane asks hesitantly, "If this was just a test, how much of your story was true, Admiral?"

The others place their cups on the table, assuming a much more serious tone. "All of it, Captain. Rushwind has taught me to catch a spy it is best to use the truth. And the truth is, things have never looked so bleak for the Kzinti Empire."

"So what is going to be done about the command situation?"

"We just took the first step, Captain. We've given you your ship. Now we must get you a crew."

"You're going to put experienced personnel on the Ice on Fire?"

"That is my intention."

"I was assuming I could retain some of the cadets who performed well during the past weeks, as was discussed prior to my accepting command of the ship, sir."

"By all means, Captain. Under the circumstances, I intend to fully keep my part of the bargain. Just provide me a list and I'll assign them to you immediately."

"It just so happens I brought such a list with me." Firemane takes the duty roster he has and hands it to the Admiral. The Admiral glances at the computer print out and is about to put it aside when he realizes none of the names are marked in any way.

"Excuse me Captain, how did you mark the ones you wish to retain?"

"I wish to retain all those on the list, sir."

"But this is your entire crew roster. Are you serious?"

"Absolutely, sir."

"You want to go into genuine combat with a boat load of kittens?"

"Sir, they've already been in combat, and they've worked together three years as a team. I expect the youngsters will jump at the chance. I am incredibly young to have command. Were you to transfer a 'seasoned' crew to me now, I would have to fight through their envy and preconceived notions for who knows how long before they would begin to trust me. While my current crew may be inexperienced, we have already tasted combat together, and that is the hardest obstacle to hurdle. As to my core officers . . . "

"From their reports, I would say they'd be more than happy to serve under you, Captain. I'll see to it the transfers are made permanent. It seems you have a ship and a crew now."

"Yes, sir. I do. But I have another suggestion."

"Which is?"

"Reactivating Rushwind will give you the best fleet tactician we've ever had."

Rushwind blanches at this remark. "Now just wait a minute. I haven't commanded a starship in almost thirteen years, much less an entire fleet. And I'm well past the normal retirement age for a line officer."

"Still, Captain Firemane does have a point. You do have the requisite skills and experience. Your reputation alone could only help morale."

Rushwind, disbelieving what he is hearing argues back, "Being a paper pusher or intelligence analyst is one thing, but becoming an active line fleet commander at my age? That's another story."

***