Yeoman of Chaos

By “Amaranth Rose”

Copyright 2001 all rights reserved

A Knight is sworn to uphold the weak, defend the innocent, protect the foolish and balance the strong. A Knight shows valor in conflict, courage in danger, unswerving loyalty, and mercy and compassion to all. A Knight is the custodian of Liberty, Justice, and Peace. A Knight behaves with Honor, Truth, Grace and Courtesy at all times. Thus does a Knight bring light and order to the fabric of the Universe.

"Hey! You there! Where do you think you're going?" The short, stocky police officer's voice was gruff and harsh as his fingers brushed the handle of his weapon, ready to draw it in an instant if the need should arise.

"You can't go in there, that's off limits." The hospital corridor echoed harshly with his strident voice.

The object of his attention straightened slowly, turning away from the door he had been about to open and raising his hands, palms outward in a gesture of surrender. He stood head and shoulders above the policeman, his trim, fit, six-plus feet of tanned muscle and sinew speaking of a great deal of outdoor exercise and hard work. He had a small rucksack over one shoulder.

"Yes, Officer, I know. I’m sorry if I startled you. I didn’t mean any harm." The tall, lean young man fixed him with his coffee brown eyes. He spoke calmly, in an apologetic tone, making a few small gestures with his hands as he did so. His voice seemed to have a strangely soothing effect on the police officer.

"Oh," he said, more politely. "Well, what are you doing here?"

The tall man gestured toward the door beside him.

"I've come to see Rangar. Special permission from the High Council."

The High Council was the governing body for the entire Crystal Matrix Knighthood. It was made up of over six dozen men and women, jurists who were themselves Knights. As a body, the High Council ruled over the Knighthood and its members. It was they who were responsible, as a body, for policing the ranks of the Knighthood and dealing with the rare Rogue Knights who had turned to the dark side. A Knight who disobeyed the orders of the High Council did so at great peril to his or her career, and life. The first oath a new Knight swore was to obey the High Council and serve it in all times of need. Sometimes that need was to hunt down and bring a Rogue Knight to justice, or slay them in the attempt.

"The Fabreetzan? You want to see that--that BUG?" The officer grimaced distastefully. "How come I haven't heard about some special permission?"

"They only just granted it an hour ago. 'That bug', as you so unfortunately described him, saved my life. I owe him a life-debt." The young man spoke persuasively, his hands moving ever so slightly. Recognition dawned in the officer's eyes then.

"So, you're the apprentice that helped bring in Modrain?" The tall man nodded and smiled slightly.

"Dou-Gai-Han Chang-Tsi-Yar, Sir. Doug, for short. Though I am an apprentice no longer. I was given my Knighthood last week.” He paused a moment, his expression pensive.

“And if it hadn't been for Rangar, Modrain would have added Master Shan-ji and myself to his list." There was silence for a long moment.

The policeman grunted.

"He's dyin’, you know." He pointed with his thumb to the door behind him. "They’ve had healers in, but they can't do nothing for him. You can't heal other races, you know, and he ain't even remotely humanlike."

The tall man looked down at the floor, and when he looked up his expression was inscrutable.

"Yes, I know. That's why I must see him. Before ..." Doug's voice caught, and when he continued he spoke softly, his voice thick with emotion.

"Before it's too late." He made several more slight gestures with his hands.

The officer was clearly moved.

"Well..." he said slowly. "Rules is rules ... but, seeing as the High Council has okayed it, and it being a life debt and all that, I guess I can bend 'em a bit." He looked up and down the hallway cautiously.

"You can't be too careful," he confided. "Tell you what. I go off duty in two hours. You be out of there in an hour and a half, in case my replacement decides to show up early, and I never saw you. Okay?"

Doug looked at him gratefully.

"Thanks. I can't tell you how much I appreciate it."

"Don't mention it," the officer said gruffly. "And I mean that, don't mention it to anyone. I need my job."

Doug nodded soberly.

"I never saw you, and I was never here, Sir."

The officer nodded and walked away in the direction of the coffee shop. Doug let himself into the dimly lit room, and permitted himself a slight chuckle once he had closed the door securely.

"Now, that was almost too easy," he said to himself, grinning. A rasping, whistling sound behind him drew his attention.

"Who is there?" a high-pitched reedy voice, thin and wheezing, called out.

Doug stood still and let the sensory field of the room's sole occupant flow over him. "Oh, it is you, Dou-Gai-Han. What brings you here? Have you come to watch an old Fabreetzan die?"

Doug felt for the light control and increased the illumination just enough that he could see the source of the voice.

On a mattress on the floor in the middle of the room lay a five-foot long creature that most strongly resembled a cross between an Earth grasshopper and a preying mantis. It was olive green in color, with mottled markings of brown, green and black.

Two of its four hind legs had apparently been severely damaged; they were splinted and bandaged, and had obviously oozed some goodly quantity of purplish blood. The bandages were stained purple, and there was some blood on the floor also. One of its mantis-like front legs appeared to have sustained a similar injury; it was wrapped in a blood-soaked bandage as well.

Its defensive armature included an assortment of short, spiky processes that festooned its legs and carapace. A number of these had been broken or sheared off. There were cut marks in a number of places all over the creature's body, including a large hole in the abdomen that was oozing a viscous purple fluid.

Doug approached the triangular head, with its two huge green compound eyes glittering softly in the dim light. Each individual eye glowed softly with an eerie green firefly light from within. The Fabreetzi were nocturnal, and their eyes were adapted for seeing in starlight. He stopped a few feet away from the creature and set the bag on the floor.

"No, Rangar. I've come to repay a life-debt."

The head shifted slightly, looking at him intently.

"Do you intend to put a merciful end to my existence?" the wheezing, raspy voice questioned.

Doug shook his head.

"No, Rangar, I've come to take you home where you can get the help you need."

"The High Council will not allow that."

Doug muttered an oath.

"I don't care what the High Council thinks. They're wrong. I'm getting you out of here." He proceeded to dig around in the bag, setting out its contents in an orderly fashion on the floor in front of Rangar.

"First I've got an hour and a half to get you fixed up a bit so you're not leaking like a sieve. Then I'm going to get you out of here. Do you think you can make it to the nearest shuttle hangar? It's about a mile."

Rangar shifted his head, regarding Doug and the items he'd set out quizzically. "How do you propose to "fix me up" when not even your best healers have been able to help?"

Doug shrugged.

"They're healers. I'm an engineer. You have a fluid containment problem. That's right up my alley." He opened a can and began to stir it.

"I know it smells like something crawled in and died, Rangar, but it should plug your holes sufficiently to keep you from bleeding to death on the way." He proceeded to carefully but quickly remove Rangar's bandages.

"I'll have to try and put them back so they don't notice anything," he remarked.

Rangar examined the can Doug had been stirring.

"What is this substance?" he asked at last.

"It's a mixture of a quick setting epoxy and fiberglass. They use it to make emergency repairs on boats while they're in the water. I figured if it would hold water out, it ought to hold your blood in." He applied some to one crack in Rangar's exoskeleton and stood back to examine the effect. The bright white patch made a garish contrast to the deep mottled olive green of Rangar's shell. He wrinkled his nose at the odor.

"Well, it totally ruins your camouflage effect. It's garish, as a matter of fact. And it stinks to high heaven." He examined the area closely; no more purplish blood oozed out from the injured leg. "But it seems to be doing the job. The smell dissipates fairly quickly, luckily."

"Dou-Gai-Han, you are going to be in big trouble for disobeying the High Council, you know that, don't you? Every Knight is sworn to obey the High Council above all others. Even I know that, and I am just a Fabreetzan. A hired bounty hunter."

When a Rogue Knight eluded the Knighthood, or was deemed too dangerous to be taken by other Knights, or the trail was too faint or old for them to pick up, they called in specialists: the Fabreetzi.

A Fabreetzan could pick up a trail years old, once they had the scent of their quarry. With their natural armor, their ability to see even in faint starlight, and the ability to go weeks without sleep, they were formidable foes. Usually they traveled alone; if a Knight were considered to be very dangerous, a pair of them would undertake the job. In rare instances, three would go out together to track down and bring in a Knight.

Such was their reputation that many fallen Knights, on hearing that they were being pursued by a Fabreetzan, would surrender to another Knight rather than face them. They seldom failed to return with their quarry, usually alive. Even so, they were referred to as the High Council’s Private Assassin Corps, and feared, loathed and despised on thousands of worlds.

Doug was troweling the compound into a crack on Rangar's other back leg. He shook his head mutinously.

"I don't give a rat's tail," he said angrily. "You don't hire someone to do a job for you and then strand them to die on some alien planet." He surveyed his work critically. He added a couple more dabs of the patch compound.

"The High Council may try to operate that way, but I don't. I'm not going to leave my friends to die if I can help it."

"You should be careful whom you take up as your friends, Dou-Gai-Han Chang-Tsi-Yar. After all, you know nothing about me. I could be a very undesirable person. A murderer, even."

Doug looked at him squarely. "I know everything I need to know about you.”

“Oh?” Rangar wheezed laboriously. “And what do you know about me, young Knight?”

“You're Rangar, a Fabreetzan, and you saved my life and Master Shan-ji's, at great peril to your own. Under the circumstances, no one would have faulted you if you’d saved yourself and left us to die. That's all I need to know about you." He'd finished with the second hind leg. He set down the empty can he was holding and opened another.

"You are of course aware that Fabree's Planet is a forbidden planet?" Rangar remarked. "The moment you set course for it, they will try to stop you."

"Look, do you want to die here because nobody had the guts to try to take you home, or do you want to die in space on the way home but knowing you at least made the effort?" Doug said with some asperity. "What do you want to be, a man or a mouse?"

Rangar gave a dry chuckle.

"Now, let me see your arm," he ordered peremptorily.

Rangar complied impassively, with a slight air of amusement.

"Being Fabreetzan, I can hardly imagine myself in either creature's place," Rangar remarked humorously.

Doug had rewrapped the limbs, taking care to ensure that his work was covered and that they looked credibly bloodstained. He turned his attention to the abdominal wound next.

"Nasty," he said at last. "It looks like the sword blade is still in there."

Rangar nodded. "Any way to get it out?" Doug queried.

Rangar shook his massive jeweled head.

"The point is lodged firmly inside my carapace. It will take a Fabreetzan to remove it the next time I molt."

Doug looked concerned. "Well, we'll just have to patch it over and hope for the best," he said at last.

While he waited for that patch to set, he opened a paperboard carton and poured some of the contents into a mug. He handed it to Rangar.

"Here, see if you like this."

Rangar looked at the yellowish, slightly oily liquid, and tasted it carefully. He drank the contents quickly and held out the empty mug for more.

"That's very good. I like it. Very refreshing. What is it?"

"Chicken broth. I couldn't find any beef." Doug sounded apologetic. He fed Rangar the quart carton.

"Thank you." Rangar was sounding stronger already. "What do you plan to do?"

"Master Shan-ji is out right now, trying to locate a shuttle for us.”

Doug’s aging teacher, a spry old man of indeterminate age, was at the spaceport.

“With any luck, by tomorrow night we should be ready to spring you from here. We plan to wait until dark, so as to attract less attention. We'll get you down to the shuttle, take off and head for Nagarmi. It's not far. We can always make some excuse for going there. A training flight, if nothing else, since I'm probably going to have to fly the thing. Once we're well away from Na'Chotle, we can change course and leave them in the dust."

Rangar nodded agreement.

"You'd best be going, Dou-Gai-Han, before your time runs out."

Doug nodded and tossed the last few items in his bag.

"Oh, Dou-Gai-Han?"

"Yes, Rangar?"

"Could you bring me some more chicken broth when you come again? If it’s not too much trouble, that is,” he added diffidently. “That was very good."

"Sure!" Doug smiled. "Anything you like!" He slipped carefully from the room and was gone.

Although he was supposed to meet Shan-ji at the nearby shuttle hangar, Doug took a rather long stroll down to the boat marina, where he disposed of the used cans of fiber patch and the tools he'd used in a trash receptacle near one of the boat shops. He then strolled slowly around the city, seeing the sights.

Na’Chotle was the figurative center of a Crystal Matrix Knight’s universe; its capitol city housed the administrative machinery that enabled the Order to thrive and function in its relentless battle against evil and tyranny. The buildings that housed the bureaucracy of the Knighthood were enormous and immensely beautiful; the beauty and splendor of Na’Chotle were the stuff of legends throughout the civilized universe. Doug drank in the sights, the tall buildings with their adornments recalling various crystalline forms in their symmetry and construction. He knew full well this look might well be his last.

When the sun was high overhead, he bought lunch from a street vendor and ate it in a nearby park. At last he made his way leisurely to the hangar. He picked out Master Shan-ji and made his way over to him. He was deep in discussion with an Antillean whom Doug took to be the captain of the shuttle they were looking at. Shan-ji caught sight of Doug and motioned him to come over.

"Captain Chee, I believe you know Dou-Gai-Han Chang-Tsi-Yar, my former apprentice. It is he who wishes to purchase your shuttle."

Captain Chee regarded Doug frankly from his height of all of five feet. He was covered all over in soft white downy feathers, except for the pair of wings on his back, which were fledged in long white pinions. His chest was thick and muscular. He stood on two sturdy legs atop his rather round feet. His diminutive height and powerful build attested to the relatively high gravity and dense atmosphere of his home planet Antillus. After a long moment he remarked,

"It's been a long time since I took you off of Malledore, Prince. You've certainly gotten around. And just whom do you expect to fly this shuttle? Do you have a pilot?"

"I'm a pilot," he said blandly. He reached into an inner pocket and produced a card.

Captain Chee looked at it carefully and handed it back to him.

"So you're a licensed pilot. Have you ever trained to fly a shuttle? Do you have any experience in one?"

Doug shook his head 'No'.

"I thought not. You're too big. You'll barely fit in the cockpit. And most humans don't have fast enough reflexes to fly shuttles."

"I'm pretty flexible," Doug said with a smile. "Actually, Sir, I thought you might accompany us on the first run and give me some instruction. At instructor's wages, of course, in addition to standard Captain's fees."

Chee eyed him with considerable interest.

"That depends. Where are you going?"

"Nagarmi. My sister lives there, and I haven't seen her and her family in ages. I promised her when I made Knight I'd come see her and bring her a surprise present, and it will fit nicely in the passenger bay of a shuttle. I have the present, now all I need is the shuttle." He looked pleadingly at the Captain.

"Why not just lease the shuttle?" Captain Chee seemed somewhat suspicious.

Doug shrugged.

"A Crystal Matrix Knight has to do something for a living. I enjoy flying; I’ve always been quite good at it, in fact. It seemed a good way to do what I enjoy and get paid enough to make a living at it."

He knew better than to try the kind of mind tricks he'd used on the police officer at the hospital; Antilleans were immune to them, and it would have made Captain Chee very distrustful of him if he had tried.

"You could get a new one for what mine will cost you," Chee argued.

"Perhaps. But it would not be here, right now, and I would not be able to get to Nagarmi within the week."

"Why is that important?" Chee asked.

"It's my nephew's birthday next week, and I really want to be there for it," Doug pleaded.

Chee capitulated at last. Family ties were of great importance to the Antilleans.

"All right. But we need to leave as soon as possible."

Doug and Shan-ji exchanged glances. Doug nodded slightly.

"I'll need a little time to transfer my cargo. It's kind of, er, bulky. I'd like to take on some extra fuel, too, in case we decide to go somewhere else from Nagarmi. I understand their fuel rates are a bit high."

"Exhorbitant," Chee agreed. "I'll arrange the extra fuel, and you can pay me for it." Doug nodded agreement.

"I'll need to make some modifications to the passenger bay," Doug informed him. "My cargo is somewhat fragile, and in order to assure that it arrives in one piece, I'd planned to suspend it in a net from the ceiling."

"Do whatever you like, it's your ship. But we need to leave as soon as possible."

"I'll do my best, Captain. I'd like to leave within two days."

Chee nodded.

"I'm always ready," he said calmly. "If I'm not in the shuttle, I won't be far away. The on-board computer always knows my whereabouts." He strode off in the direction of the pilots’ quarters. They watched him until he went out of sight.

"Come," Shan-ji said urgently. "Let's figure out how we're going to do this, and get it done as fast as possible. Time is running out."

Doug nodded soberly, and they set to work.

The passenger bay of the shuttle was a long compartment just behind the cockpit, separated from it by a connecting corridor with bulkhead doors on either end. The forward part contained several rows of seats for passengers. Behind that was a large open space that served to hold delicate cargo, room for passengers to move about when possible, and living quarters for the pilot between flights on planets where there were no facilities to house them. The remainder of the shuttle consisted of three huge cargo holds, strung behind the passenger hold, plus fuel tanks and rear and hover engines. From a distance a shuttle resembled a long, very sleek, streamlined bus or hovercraft. Up close, Doug felt dwarfed by the enormous scale of the shuttle, as it towered far above his head.

Late that night they finished working. Both men were satisfied at last that the netting would hold Rangar's weight. They could only hope he would survive the acceleration forces during take-off and landing.

"How did the patch work go?"

"I think it went well, Master," Doug replied. "It stopped the bleeding, at least." He sighed frustratedly. "He was very weak. It's going to be very hard on him, getting him down here."

"Don't worry, boy. Something will come up. It will work out."

Doug looked at him in surprise.

"You sound supremely confident, Master. What gives?"

Shan-ji smiled enigmatically.

"Whenever what the High Council want to do is wrong, and someone takes it upon themselves to intervene, it always seems to work out for the best. I've seen it happen too many times." He shrugged. "It will work out somehow, if only to thwart the High Council, Dou-Gai-Han. Trust me." He glanced in the direction of the hospital.

"Now, what do you say we pay Rangar a visit? Maybe we could even take him some more chicken broth."

Half an hour later two gray-cloaked figures slipped into the hospital through a side door and made their way stealthily to the floor where Rangar's room was. The corridor was deserted. They walked quietly down to the door and listened for a moment. They could hear a man and woman talking quietly from the other end of the corridor. Doug opened the door and let Shan-ji pass through first, closing it silently after them.

"Who is it? Who is there?" The high, thin, reedy voice demanded sharply. Rangar's sensory field flowed over them.

"Master Shan-ji? Dou-Gai-Han?" He clucked in dismay. "You should not have come here. You are in very great danger."

Doug turned up the light so they could see. He glanced at the older man.

"Man, is this the thanks we get?" he said with feigned indignation, keeping his voice low. "We buy a shuttle, rig a hammock in it, and sneak into a hospital in the middle of the night with two quarts of chicken broth, and we get told we shouldn't have come to visit." He gave a mock snort of disgust.

"Well, there's gratitude for you!"

Shan-ji chuckled quietly.

"You have more chicken broth?" Rangar sounded almost eager.

"Food works every time," Doug joked. "Yes, Rangar, we brought you some more chicken broth." He opened the carton. Before he could pour any into a cup, however, Rangar took it from him and drained it in short order.

"Feeling better, are you?" Doug quipped.

"Much, Dou-Gai-Han, thank you." Doug handed him the second container. He drained that one more slowly. "Much better." He looked closely at the carton in his clawed hand. "This is very good. In fact, I think the only thing I've ever had that was a better restorative is Mirhazh." At their blank looks, he expounded. "Mirhazh is an elixir we Fabreetzi make. We export limited quantities. It is a powerful restorative. Some say it will revive any being that is not already dead.” He spoke with quiet pride; there was no hint of boasting in his labored voice.

“Besides hunting down rogue Crystal Matrix Knights for the High Council from time to time, it is our only source of income." He emptied the carton then.

"Do you have any more?" he asked hopefully.

"No, I'm sorry, Rangar. I could probably lay in several cases for you on the shuttle, if you'd like. All we've got to do now is figure out how to get you to the shuttle from here. Can you walk?"

Rangar attempted to rise onto his feet, without success. He did manage to raise himself up partway, however. He lay down heavily with a sigh.

"Hmm," Doug said slowly. "If we got him on a cart and covered him with a blanket, do you think he'd make a convincing corpse?" he asked Shan-ji.

The old man nodded.

"That would get us out of the hospital, at least. We could transfer him to a luggage cart between here and the hangar." He nodded thoughtfully. "It could work."

"Rest, Rangar. We'll be back to get you tomorrow evening to take you home." Doug spoke with a confidence he did not feel.

"I believe you, Dou-Gai-Han. But you do not know what you are getting yourself into. As a Crystal Matrix Knight, you are sworn to obey the High Council. Disobeying them in this will make very big trouble for you."

Doug shook his head. "There are oaths, and there are ethics, Rangar. I took an oath to obey the High Council, and I take that oath very seriously. But my ethics tell me that in this instance, they are wrong, and I must follow my ethics when it comes down to a choice between the two."

"Take care that you do not follow your ethics to your death, Dou-Gai-Han." Rangar spoke gently; his meaning was very clear.

"I had rather do that, than live to be a very old man who doesn't sleep well," Doug replied quietly. He turned the light back down, and they slipped away.

"What are you going to do with all this chicken soup?" The Harbormaster was a trim little man in his white uniform and polished black shoes. In all fairness to him, it was his job to know everything that went on in the spaceport, and he made regular inspection tours. Doug had remarked that one could practically set one's clock by his progress. He had come along while Doug and Shan-ji were loading a few dozen cases of chicken broth into the shuttle's passenger bay.

Doug looked at Shan-ji and winked before he turned to face the man. He was looking at Doug curiously.

"It's a secret," Doug replied in a low voice, looking about as if to make sure they weren't overheard. "It's for my sister. And it's not soup, it's broth."

"Oh?" The man looked perplexed. "Don't they have chicken soup, er, I mean broth, where she lives?"

Doug made a wry face.

"Well, yeah, but they have to ship it in, and it's expensive as heck. Especially in this quantity." They continued loading as they talked, keeping their voices low and conspiratorial. “There aren’t any chickens on Nagarmi, you see.”

"What does she want so much for?" the man inquired.

Doug blushed.

"Well, Sir, it's kind of a long story. You see, when we were kids, we both got the chicken pox. We were both pretty sick. Mom made us some chicken broth and fed it to us, and it was the first thing we'd had in three days that didn't come right back up. So when we broke out, and were itching like crazy, Meggie told Mom she should just give us a bath in chicken broth and that would cure us." He chuckled slightly.

"Mom never forgot that, and we've ribbed Meggie about it ever since. I promised myself that when I earned my Knighthood I was going to take her enough chicken broth to fill a bathtub."

He looked around.

"What do you think, Master Shan-ji? Will it be enough, do you suppose?"

Shan-ji looked at the load with a practiced eye. "Probably. Unless she's got one of those extra-sized tubs." He looked thoughtful for a moment, making a show of counting the cases. "Yes, I think it will probably be enough."

The Harbormaster looked from one to the other, and shook his head.

"Knights!" he muttered under his breath as he turned to go. "Crazy Crystal Matrix Knights!"

Doug and Shan-ji watched his progress surreptitiously while they finished loading the cargo. Shan-ji turned to Doug then.

"In all the years I have known you, Dou-Gai-Han, and that includes before you became my apprentice, I never realized you were such an accomplished liar." His tone was that of severe disapproval. He stood facing Doug, his feet wide apart and his arms folded across his chest. He looked the figure of Judgement itself.

Doug looked at him calmly. "That's because I never lied to you, Master. I knew better than to try it. And besides, there was a great deal of truth in what I told him. Meggie and I did have the chicken pox when we were kids. And my mother has been known to make chicken broth on occasion." He sighed. "I just ... 'improved' on the truth a bit."

"Hmm, well. Take care whom you embellish it with." He pointed across the hangar.

"Here comes Captain Chee." They watched the little feathered man approach.

He surveyed the cargo in the passenger area with some distaste. Like all Antilleans, Chee was a vegetarian, and he took a dim view of certain kinds of foodstuffs.

"This is your fragile cargo?" he asked somewhat disdainfully.

"No," Doug responded. "It would be ruined if it froze in the cargo hold, though. This way it saves having to heat the whole cargo bay for such a small load. I thought it would save fuel."

Chee nodded.

"When do you expect to be ready to go?"

"Well, I'll have to bring the rest of the cargo down after dark. We should be ready by midnight. We could leave anytime after that, I think, providing we don't have any trouble moving the thing."

"Why is it so important to move it after dark?" Chee asked suspiciously. Doug looked apologetic.

"It's very rare, and if it's disturbed too much, its diurnal cycles get all messed up and it won't..."

Shan-ji sighed and made a sharp chopping motion with his hand. Doug fell silent abruptly. One of his hands clutched momentarily at his throat. He looked at the old man in surprise.

"Dou-Gai-Han, if I've told you once, I've told you a thousand times, learn to keep your big mouth shut. Do you want half the hangar to know what you've got for your sister?"

Doug flushed, and he looked down at the floor with a sullen look on his face. He’d never cared for being disciplined by his master in public, and it embarrassed him.

Chee looked at them both.

"I am sorry," he said politely. "Do what you have to do. The fuel has been taken care of, and I have filed our flight plan to, er, Nagarmi. The shuttle computer can find me whenever you are ready to leave tonight. It is easier to arrange departures on short notice at night anyway."

He turned and made his way across the hangar without a backward glance.

Doug looked at the older Knight.

"You're not such a bad liar yourself," he said admiringly after Chee had disappeared from sight.

"He suspects something," Shan-ji remarked shortly. "But I don't think he will do anything. Antilleans are remarkably good at keeping things to themselves."

"I sure hope so," Doug muttered quietly. "Now, let's figure out how to reprogram this thing for Fabree's Planet in mid-flight. We've only got six or seven hours until dark, and then it's showtime."

Shan-ji nodded his agreement, and they set to work.

The cockpit of the shuttle was a very small space. Doug maneuvered himself into a seat on one side in front of the main computer. The cockpit was obviously designed for much shorter persons. Shan-ji looked at him as he sat folded tightly into the narrow space.

“You look like a sardine,” he commented.

“I feel like an overwound clock spring.”

He looked around. There were several viewscreens across the front, and rows upon rows of gauges and dials beneath them. Rank after rank of lights were arranged in rows beneath them, some of them softly glowing at the moment in a dozen different colors. On the console in front of him were literally hundreds of switches and buttons, as well as computer access interfaces. There was an assortment of treadles or pedals on the floor as well. A double row of what looked like circuit breakers ran across the ceiling. Doug stared at the whole arrangement for a long time. Then he gave a low whistle of amazement.

“I see what Chee meant. This will be nothing like piloting a passenger craft, or even a fighter. Learning to fly this thing is going to be harder than sowing impact mines in an asteroid field. I’m glad he agree to come along as pilot.”

Shan-ji chuckled.

“He probably couldn’t bear the thought of someone wrecking what he’s invested so much time and money in,” he said with a grin. Then his face grew sober.

“Now let’s find the main computer interface and get to work.”

"How fast do people ordinarily walk when they're accompanying a body to the morgue?" Doug queried as they padded along, pushing the heavily laden gurney. They'd covered Rangar with a sheet and a dark green blanket, and were trying to move through the halls as quietly and inconspicuously as possible. The gurney was creaking and squeaking in protest from time to time.

At last they reached the freight elevator. Then they were at the loading dock. They almost made it out the door unseen.

"Hey! Where are you going? You can't take that body out of here!" The young security officer strode quickly toward them.

"I'll handle this," Shan-ji muttered to Doug. He waited until the young man was upon them. He made a slight gesture with one hand, and looked deep into the young man's eyes.

"We weren't taking a body out of here," he said persuasively. His voice had a slightly hypnotic quality to it.

The officer looked confused. "You weren't?" He sounded puzzled.

"We were bringing a body into the hospital," Shan-ji said intently, moving his hands slightly each time he spoke.

"You were bringing a body in," the man repeated in a monotone.

"Everything is as it should be," Shan-ji continued. "Everything is just fine. We may continue doing our jobs."

"Everything is fine," the man repeated obediently. "Go ahead with what you were doing."

"You should go now. You are needed on the other end of the hospital," Shan-ji said softly. He broke eye contact then and snapped his fingers.

The slight sound seemed to startle the man. He looked around for a moment.

"Well, I guess everything's under control here, then. I have to go check things on the other side. Good night!" He strolled off rapidly, seeming very pleased with himself.

Doug looked over at Shan-ji.

"You do that so much better than I do," he remarked. The older man smiled.

"You will become just as proficient at it when you have had as much practice as I have." He resumed his position alongside the cart.

"Now, let's get out of here before we have to do it again."

They wheeled the gurney down the hallway to an exit, and carefully set off toward the spaceport. Neither of them noticed four shadowy figures emerging from their hiding places in the shadows near the hospital to follow them at a considerable distance as they moved the groaning, creaking gurney along the sidewalk.

They had purloined a luggage cart earlier that day and hidden it about a block away in an alcove between two buildings. Rangar climbed onto the luggage cart, and they covered him with the blankets. Doug hid the gurney where the cart had been. They were almost ready to continue when Rangar wheezed softly.

"We have been discovered."

Doug bent low over the cart and continued tucking the blanket around him.

"How many? Where?" he whispered softly.

"Four. Behind you. Do not worry. They are friends. They will help," Rangar spoke very quietly.

Doug slowly turned around, his hands deliberately in full view.

Four Antilleans stood in the entrance to the alcove, effectively blocking their exit. Doug recognized one of them. It was Captain Chee.

"Good evening, gentlemen," Chee said calmly in his thin, high-pitched voice.

His words dropped like pebbles into a still pond. The narrow alcove seemed to echo slightly with the sound of his voice. Doug and Shan-ji exchanged glances, and said nothing. The moment stretched like bubble gum stuck to a shoe on a hot day. Captain Chee looked at them both for a long time before he spoke again.

"We thought you might need some help with your, ah, cargo."

The older Knight walked over to stand in front of the little group.

"You do understand that this cargo may be very dangerous? It could make your lives very difficult if you become involved with its transport. That is a risk I would not ask any of you to take. It could get you into a great deal of trouble, both with Na'Chotlan authorities and with the High Council."

Captain Chee shrugged.

One of the other Antilleans spoke up then.

"Master Shan-ji, if I may make so bold, Sir, the High Council really doesn't worry us in the least. We shuttle pilots owe our loyalty to the Ring Ships, and to each other. There's a lot of us feel that the Council's decisions from time to time are just dead wrong.” He glanced at the cart. “None of us would want to be left to die on some foreign world; if we know we're dying, we want to go home. We believe every being should have the right to go home to die, or seek medical help, if they want to."

The third Antillean nodded.

“Vancho speaks for me in this. Besides, by the treaty we have with the High Council, there’s nothing they can do to us for acting on a point of conscience.”

The fourth nodded his silent agreement as well.

Doug shook his head.

"How did you figure it out?"

Captain Chee looked at him pityingly.

"It doesn't exactly take a rocket scientist to put two and two together and come up with four. Besides, the first thing you should have done when you purchased the shuttle was turn off the auto-record function and clear the memory caches."

Doug looked chagrined.

"Now I suggest we get going. If we could figure it out, it won't take long for the High Council to work it out for themselves. I'd like to be off Na'Chotle and under way to," he paused significantly, "Nagarmi," he said sarcastically, "before they do."

With the help of the four Antilleans, they made their way quickly to the hangar. They unloaded Rangar and got him settled in the hammock they'd rigged. Doug gave him two containers of chicken broth.

"Ah! That is much better," Rangar remarked when he'd polished off the second one.

"Are you about ready back there?" Chee's high voice crackled over the intercom.

"Yes, I think so," Doug replied.

"You'd better get up here, Dou-Gai-Han, since you're the owner now, you're supposed to be flying this thing. You'll have to help me deal with any problems if they arise. I hope you're proficient at evasive maneuvers."

"Coming right up!" He stood up and bumped his head painfully on a strut. He walked through the connecting door to the cockpit, absently rubbing his head where he'd hit it.

Rangar stared after him.

"And my life is in his hands?" he mused. "I think I'm going to need a lot of luck."

Chapter 2

Doug piloted the shuttle from the hangar to the launch queue, under Chee's sharp scrutiny. Chee had to grudgingly admit Doug did pretty well, for a beginner. As they joined the end of the queue, however, Chee took over. In a few moments, the shuttle in front of them moved sideways just enough to allow them to edge narrowly past it. This happened several times.

Doug and Shan-ji were mystified.

"The control tower has to launch whatever shuttle is up next," Chee explained. "If a shuttle has diplomatic courtesy, it still has to get to the head of the line. It's not a maneuver for a beginner to try."

He smiled at their confusion.

"We shuttle pilots have our own ways of granting diplomatic courtesy, in certain circumstances."

There was only one shuttle in front of them now. They watched as its hover engines flared, propelling it down the long, upward sloping launch ramp. The main engines came on, flaring brightly in the night sky like some huge inverted moving candle as it rocketed upward and out into the vastness of space.

The control tower addressed them then.

"Owner of record is one Dou-Gai-Han Chang-Tsi-Yar. Is that correct?"

The Traffic Controller’s rich, melodious voice and lilting meter surprised Doug. It sounded as if silver bells had been given the gift of speech. He looked questioningly at Shan-ji.

“I take it the Traffic Controller is an Elf?” Shan-ji asked Chee.

He nodded.

"That is correct," Chee answered the controller, very precisely.

He turned to them. “Elves are one of the few races that can handle traffic in a busy port like this one,” he said quietly. “They don’t succumb to stress very easily, and their ability to think multi-dimensionally helps them keep track of ships. They almost never lose one.”

"Permanent address Royal Palace, Planet Malledore?" came the silvery, melodious voice again. Doug nodded.

"That is correct."

Shan-ji looked over at Doug, his eyebrows raised questioningly.

"I had to tell them something," Doug whispered to him.

"Destination Nagarmi?"

The communication from the tower was interrupted by some noise in the background.

"Nagarmi, yes, that is correct."

The noise became louder. They could hear someone shouting.

"Very good. You are clear for takeoff. Have a nice trip, Cousin Dou-Gai-Han!" the silvery voice intoned gaily.

Doug gave a little jerk of surprise.

“Cousin?” he muttered. Shan-ji smiled.

“Elves never forget a relationship, even if humans do,” he said quietly.

The shouting became clearer. Chee threw the switch to engage the hover engines. They began to move forward.

"Stop that shuttle!" a man's loud voice shouted in the background.

“That sounds like Judge Mercer,” Doug said after a moment.

Shan-ji nodded.

Mercer shouted again. They could not hear the words of the traffic controller over the commotion. The main thrust engines were starting up. The force of acceleration pushed Doug back into his seat so hard he felt as if his spine would snap the back of the chair. Shan-ji seemed to be faring no better. He glanced at Captain Chee; he seemed unaffected.

"I'm sorry, sir, it has already been cleared for take-off. It’s already underway. I can't recall it once it has begun its run."

"You've got to stop that shuttle in the name of the High Council!" The man sounded enraged.

The controller spoke calmly, a hint of pity in his voice.

"I'm sorry, sir, but it simply is physically impossible to stop a shuttle once it has started its run."

There was an angry roar from the man. When it subsided, the controller spoke again, very patiently, as if explaining a simple concept to a slow-witted child.

"Perhaps you could talk to them, and ask them to return instead of leaving orbit." Mercer snarled again.

“Give me that microphone, you pointy eared idiot!”

Doug drew in his breath sharply; a tinge of carmine began to creep up his neck to his cheeks. Shan-ji shook his head sadly.

“That just lost you some points, Mr. Mercer,” Chee said quietly.

"Shuttle, this is Aven Mercer. I am an officer of the Court of the High Council of the Crystal Matrix Knighthood. You are to return to Na'Chotle and surrender your passengers and cargo at once!!"

Chee put his hand over the microphone and looked at Doug.

"Is this Mercer a friend of yours?"

Doug shook his head quickly.

"No! He's hated me all my life, I think, though I don't know why."

Chee punched a small button nearby.

"Now what's wrong?" Mercer roared again.

"We're getting a standard automatic signal from the shuttle. It's indicating a malfunction in their radio receiver. It would appear they are having technical difficulties, sir.” The Elf spoke patiently, with the tone of someone trying to deal with an upset child. “Now if you would just let me have that microphone, I can try to find the source of the difficulty."

There was another angry growl. Then the controller's voice came on again.

"Shuttle, this is control. I repeat, this is control. Do you read me?"

"Control? Control? This is shuttle, repeat, this is shuttle. Do you read?" Chee responded, sounding somewhat perturbed.

"This is control. We read you fine. What's happened? Repeat, we read you fine. What is wrong?"

"I'm not sure. I think that loud noise may have damaged my speaker system. I'm only getting sound out of them every now and then. They're just standard stock speakers, they're not meant to handle that much volume."

Doug looked around, taking in the sound system for the first time. The shuttle's sound equipment would have been the envy of many concert halls. He nearly burst out laughing. Chee glared at him, signaling him to be silent.

"This is Control, shuttle. Can you return to Na'Chotle? Repeat, can you return to Na'Chotle?"

“Say again, please, Control? I’m hardly getting anything you say.”

The Elf repeated the message, sounding slightly amused.

"Repair them at Nagarmi? Oh, I'm sure I can. I might have some spare speakers on board, if I can find them. But I'm kind of tied up right now. Flying a shuttle isn't anything like sowing impact mines in an asteroid field, you know.” He checked the control panel and made a few adjustments. The engines roared even louder.

“I'll check back in with you when we get back from Nagarmi." The radio connection dissolved into static, which normally happened at a certain altitude. Chee flipped a switch and shut it off. He directed his attention to the shuttle until they were starting their first orbit around Na'Chotle.

"Now, let me see what you've got laid in for a course to Fabree's Planet."

Doug handed him a memory card and he inserted it into the computer's port. He scanned it closely.

"Not too bad for a beginner. You only routed us through two black holes and four stars, and one asteroid field." He pulled the card and handed it back, replacing it with one from a compartment nearby.

"This is how you want to go to Fabree's Planet, my boy."

Doug and Shan-ji leaned forward to study it.

"This looks like it goes through a couple of black holes," Shan-ji pointed out.

"Not through. Around. Using their gravitational pull, we can push this baby up to at least point nine light. We'll be able to outrun anything the High Council wants to try and throw at us. Change direction on a dime, too."

Doug looked concerned.

"I didn't know these things could take point nine without collapsing."

"They can't. Not off the shelf, anyway. But every shuttle captain worth his license knows he's going to need to make a strategic retreat someday. So they modify them. The fastest pursuit vehicle the Council has can do point eight six, maybe point eight eight."

"Such a slim margin," Shan-ji mused.

Captain Chee gave him a cool look.

"Many battles are won by attrition," he said.

The old man nodded his agreement. Chee turned to Doug.

"You'd better check on your, er, cargo. Our flight plan calls for us to leave orbit in about twenty minutes on the heading for Nagarmi. We'll stick to it until we are clear of the local system to allay their suspicions. There's a red giant star between here and Nagarmi. We'll use it to cover the engine burns to change our course, in case they’re watching. They'll see what we've done once we clear the star, but it should buy us several hours, and the gravitational acceleration as we dive toward it should save us quite a bit of fuel."

Doug slid out of the safety harness and made his way to the passenger compartment.

"You did it, boy," Rangar wheezed when he saw him.

Doug looked at him anxiously.

"How are you feeling?"

"I feel as if I have been given a new life, Dou-Gai-Han. But listen to me carefully now. If I don't make it home to Fabree's Planet alive, there is something you must do for me. It is not a pleasant thing, but you must swear to me you will do it."

"Rangar, you have only to ask...."

"You must swear your oath to me as a Knight of the Matrix, Dou-Gai-Han, on your honor and by your word." Rangar was emphatic.

Doug swallowed hard once.

"All right." He went to Rangar and knelt before him on one knee.

"I swear to you, Rangar of the Fabreetzi, on my honor as a Crystal Matrix Knight, that I will carry out your final wish, whatever that may be. I give you my word."

It was the first time he'd ever been required to make that formal declaration since he'd been Knighted. A Knight's oath was a contract with the force of law everywhere. He looked at Rangar, swaying slowly in the hammock above him, and wondered momentarily what it was that he'd just let himself in for.

"Will that do, Sir?" he asked politely.

"It will do very well." Doug rose then. Rangar shifted slightly in the hammock. "Now listen carefully. If I should die before we reach Fabree's Planet, you must retrieve my heartstone and return it to my people." Doug looked at him blankly.

"What is a heartstone?"

"Inside the chest cavity of every Fabreetzan lies a smallish green stone. It grows as we do. When we die, the heartstone must be returned to our planet where it can join the heartstones of all the rest of the Fabreetzi that have ever lived and died. Only then can the Fabreetzi be whole and complete. You must return my heartstone, Dou-Gai-Han, if something happens to me."

Doug gulped. For a moment he was afraid he was going to be ill. He fought it back.

"You mean, cut you open?" he asked when he could speak again.

"Yes," Rangar wheezed. "The body is of no consequence. But the stone must be returned, or my soul will wander throughout all eternity, until the Universe collapses back upon itself and is reborn once more. It is an enormous responsibility to place on one as young as yourself, Dou-Gai-Han. But I must trust you with it."

Doug was deeply moved.

"I won't let you down, Rangar," he said simply. For a minute both were silent.

"Is there anything else you need, Rangar?"

Rangar wheezed slowly.

"Yes." He sounded tired, as if the previous exchange had taxed him greatly. "If there is time, could you give me some more chicken broth?"

"Chee, how much more time do we have?" Doug called out.

"How much do you need?"

"Five minutes."

"You have eight. Don't be late." Chee chuckled as he cut the intercom.

As Doug hurried into his seat, he noted that they were already three minutes overdue for their course change to leave orbit. He looked at the other two.

"Why didn't you tell me to hurry it up?" he asked.

Chee shook his head.

"Every shuttle has to take care of its cargo. Besides, it puts us a few degrees closer to the path we need across that Red Giant." He began the procedure to take them away from Na'Chotle.

"How is the, er, 'cargo'?" he asked solicitously.

"As well as can be expected, I think." Doug looked very sober.

Shan-ji gave him a thoughtful look.

"Something wrong, Dou-Gai-Han?" Doug shivered slightly.

"No, Master." Doug looked at him. His coffee-colored brown eyes were sorely troubled. "But I sure hope we get him to Fabree's Planet alive." He sat back quietly, listening to the Antillean music that Chee had playing softly in the cockpit.

They were nearing the red giant star when an alarm sounded. Doug looked up at the monitor screen where two orange blips were highlighted. Chee glanced up.

"Company," he grunted. "I wondered when they would show up." He studied the screen. "Man, you really pissed off the High Council." He chuckled. "It's not often they send out two queens in the chess game on the first move."

"Two Empress class Destroyers." Shan-ji seemed impressed. "Each one carries up to fifteen high speed long range fighters. That's a lot of firepower to send after two Knights and a mortally wounded Fabreetzan."

Chee looked at them both for a long moment. When he spoke at last he sounded very thoughtful.

"I can't see them spending that much just to chase down a couple of rogue knights engaged in a first time offense of smuggling and subversion of a shuttle captain. I suspect your cargo may be hotter than you realize, gentlemen." He glanced at the viewscreen.

"They're closing slowly. What say we just act as if we don't notice them, and see what they have to say?"

Ten minutes later the destroyers had closed to within hailing distance.

"Shuttle Captain, this is Commander Gyron aboard the Destroyer Kailiko. Do you read me?" The second Destroyer was hanging back behind the Kailiko.

"Come again, please?" Chee replied. "I'm still having some difficulty with my speakers. If you keep the volume down they seem to hold up better."

"Shuttle Captain, this is Commander Gyron aboard the Destroyer Kailiko. You are hereby ordered to surrender immediately. You will enter our holding bay at once and surrender your cargo and passengers. If you surrender at once, you will not be harmed."

"Begging your pardon, Sir, but I'm not carrying any passengers. I have two crew members with me, and some temperature sensitive cargo in the passenger hold. If I don't get that cargo to Nagarmi on time, it will be worthless. Are you willing to pay me for the value of my cargo if it is spoiled by your delaying us?"

There was a long silence from the Kailiko.

"I can assure you I will file a claim against you for any damage to my cargo. I'm willing to bet it's worth more than half a year of your wages, and the law is very clear on compensation in these cases."

There was a long pause.

"Captain, we have it on good authority that your two "crew members" are Master Shan-ji and his former apprentice Dou-Gai-Han Chang-Tsi-Yar. We also have good reason to believe that your cargo consists of the Fabreetzan named Rangar, who mysteriously disappeared from the hospital where he was being held in custody. If you will surrender immediately, The High Council is prepared to overlook the, ahem, "indiscretions" of your crew members in exchange for returning the Fabreetzan to our custody."

"I'm sorry, Commodore, I'm having some troubles receiving your transmission. I thought I heard you say something about taking us into custody?"

"Captain, I have no interest in arresting you or your so-called crew. I must insist that you hand over the Fabreetzan immediately. I have a warrant for his arrest."

Chee looked at the two Knights. He flipped the communicator switch off.

"That's a new wrinkle. What charges could you possibly bring against a Fabreetzan? I thought they were immune to prosecution."

Both men indicated their confusion. He turned the switch back on.

"I'm sorry, Commodore, my speakers must be going. I thought I heard you say you had a warrant to arrest a Fabreetzan?"

"You heard right, Captain." Gyron was beginning to sound irritated. "I must insist that you surrender at once."

They were near enough to the red giant star now that they were beginning to feel its heat through the heavily insulated walls of the shuttle.

"What crime could you possibly charge a Fabreetzan with?" Chee queried.

"If you must know, Captain, he is wanted on a charge of murder. Now for the last time, surrender your shuttle or I will be forced to take more drastic measures."

Chee turned off the communicator. He looked at Doug and Shan-ji in turn.

"It's your call, gentlemen. What do you wish to do? Shall I surrender, or do we continue?"

There was a prolonged silence. Doug spoke at last.

"I can't believe Rangar is a murderer. If he were, he could have killed Modrain and both of us easily several times over. He could have left us to die, and no one would have faulted him. He went to great lengths to save our lives and bring Modrain in alive."

He shook his head.

"If he hadn't been so set on taking Modrain in alive, he wouldn't have been so severely injured. Modrain set him up. He said he would surrender, and when Rangar got close enough to put the shackles on him, he snatched up his sword and started in again. If the sword hadn't broken off when he stabbed Rangar with it, I think he would have killed us all." He grimaced at the memory.

“I didn’t think it was possible to break a Knight’s sword.”

The secrets of the making of swordssteel were very jealously guarded, known only to a few metalsmiths on Na’Chotle who were paid very highly indeed for their skills and their silence. It was rumored that those blades were not forged, but assembled, atom by atom, their metallic lattice so carefully formed that they would never oxidize or dull. They very seldom broke, either, because their structure was so nearly perfect that any force they encountered was distributed throughout the blade.

It required a person trained in the mental and physical disciplines of the Knighthood to wield one properly. In a Knight’s hands, swordssteel blades were as swift as thought and graceful as a darting hummingbird, and devastatingly accurate. To one without the mental talent and training they were as clumsy as a log.

Their capacity for carving their way through other materials was legendary. One occasionally heard tales of Knights who, finding themselves in extreme circumstances, had hewn through stone walls or the hulls of space-going vehicles with their swords to free themselves or others.

Shan-ji looked pale for a moment.

“Oh, they can be broken, Dou-Gai-Han. I have seen it happen.” He was silent, and look of pain and deep regret came over his features for a moment, and in that moment he seemed much older than he was.

“But Dou-Gai-Han is right, Captain Chee. Rangar is no murderer, regardless of what the High Council may believe."

"Right, then, it's unanimous." Chee flipped the switch back on.

"Shuttle? Shuttle? This is Commander Gyron, do you read me?"

"Sorry, Sir, my speakers cut out on me again. What's that you say?"

"I said, surrender your shuttle, now, or face the consequences." Six yellow blips had appeared on the screen, arrayed around the Destroyer.

Chee set several switches in succession.

"I'm sorry, Sir. I regret to inform you that I'm going to have to terminate this discussion."

"Why is that, Captain? Are you having more difficulty with your communications equipment?"

"No, Sir. I'm having a conflict of orders." He opened a cabinet and produced a fully charged Neuropistol. He held it in one hand and pointed it toward himself.

Doug was riveted with fear. Shan-ji sat totally motionless, staring at Chee as if he were seeing him for the first time.

"It looks as if I won't be going to Nagarmi after all. And I am not going to surrender to you, either."

"Why is that, Captain?" Gyron sounded very irritated.

"Because there is a loaded weapon pointed at my head right now in the hands of someone who knows how to use it. I think it would be very wise to do what the owner of those hands tells me to do."

Doug began to breathe again. Chee quickly stowed the weapon.

"I see." Duress was universally recognized as grounds for refusing any order. "I'm sorry, Captain, but I have my orders."

At that instant Chee threw the control switch. In that moment several things happened at once. A large cloud of aqueous waste material was jettisoned from the back of the shuttle, and the main thrust engines burst into a full throttle burn. The hover engines likewise burst into life at a full burn. The net effect was that the shuttle gave a very hard and rapid lurch forward and upward from its previous course, while a large, diffuse cloud of ice crystals formed almost instantaneously behind them.

Moments later a missile fired from the Kailiko passed them a few yards away, where they would have been if not for Chee's quick maneuver. Doug and Shan-ji recovered in a few moments. Chee seemed to have been unaffected.

"You'd better start inputting any evasive maneuvers you know, boy," Chee remarked. He let out an angry growl.

"Try to shoot at me, will you, Gyron? Computer, get me their on-board communication frequency. I want to know what they're up to." They listened as Gyron raged.

"How could you miss? They were right there in your sights! We had them dead to rights!" He swore colorfully.

"Tsk, tsk, Gyron! Such language! And from an officer, yet!" Chee smirked. He easily evaded several more volleys. They were rapidly putting distance between themselves and the Kailiko, but the six fighters were coming on in heavy pursuit.

Six more yellow blips joined them. Chee was putting the shuttle through evasive maneuvers. He headed squarely toward the red giant sun at full throttle, all twelve fighters in hot pursuit. And hot it did become.

Two of the fighters faltered, and attempted to pull out. The shuttle’s occupants watched in shocked silence as they fell, destroyed in the intense heat and gravity. Each one shrank to a tiny dot that burst into brilliant flames briefly before going out suddenly.

There was a sudden silence on the bridge of the Kailiko.

Chee pulled the shuttle up abruptly. They could hear the craft creaking and groaning in protest at the action. The temperature inside was rising drastically. They'd dipped so close that a solar flare, erupting in their wake, took out two more fighters. They were beginning to pull away from their pursuers. One by one, the heat and crushing gravity picked off fighters. Finally there were three left trailing after the shuttle like puppies chasing a speeding limousine. They were falling behind rapidly.

Chee opened a communication line.

"Mister Gyron, this is Shuttle Captain Chee speaking. Do you read me?"

"Yes, Captain." Gyron sounded mournful.

"I want you to learn a lesson from this today," he said grimly.

"What lesson is that?"

"Don't, I repeat, don't, ever fire on an Antillean. Unless you have an overwhelming urge to go home in a box!"

There was a long silence.

"Acknowledged, Captain." Gyron sounded defeated.

"One more thing," Chee continued, his voice hard and steely.

"What's that?"

"I will personally make it my business to see that the families of every one of those fighter pilots is informed of their deaths and told exactly how they died. It is my duty as a shuttle pilot and an Antillean. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Sir," Gyron said numbly.

"Thank you. Good day, Sir." Chee snapped off the communication switch sharply. "Damned idiot," he muttered angrily. "A waste of nine good lives." He punched the intercom.

"Rangar? This is Captain Chee. How are you doing? Are you still with us?"

"Yes, Captain," Rangar wheezed slowly.

"Sorry about the rough ride. Did you sustain any damage?"

"No." He sounded weak.

"Well, hang in there. In three or four hours we'll be able to cut back a little and we'll be able to move about more freely for a while. We'll check on you then. If you need anything before then, just holler."

"Thank you, Captain Chee."

"You're welcome, Sir."

They'd had an opportunity to stretch and give Rangar more chicken broth. The shuttle had stopped accelerating, and they were essentially falling through space toward their next course change.

"How fast are we going?" Doug asked.

Chee shrugged.

"Computer, forward view, please?" The screen showed a vast dark field with tiny white and colored dots in the distance. Each dot appeared to rush toward them, then slide on by in a brilliant flash.

Chee studied it for a moment.

"Very fast," he murmured.

Doug looked at him questioningly.

"About point seven eight light, give or take a bit," he said then.

Doug looked carefully at the screen. There was no indication on it regarding their velocity.

"How can he tell?" he muttered to himself.

Chee smiled.

"Lots of practice. Computer, Dou-Gai-Han would like to know how fast we are traveling."

"We are currently traveling at approximately zero point seven-seven-five of the speed of light with respect to a stationary point in the universe."

Chee chuckled in amusement at Doug's astonished look.

Several hours later, the computer chimed. Chee looked at the viewscreen.

"We're being followed again. This time they sent a specialist."

Doug looked at the display; his eyes widened, his face grew pale, and he felt his blood turn cold as ice in his veins as he recognized their pursuer.

“A Hell Hound,” he said quietly. His voice shook slightly.

The sleek, trim lines and massive firepower could only belong to a ship of the Cerberus class. They were incomparably sturdy and agile, and capable of extreme speeds. Each Cerberus class vessel routinely carried enough firepower to blast a small solar system into oblivion, sun and all. This was a ship sent out for one purpose and one purpose only: to intercept and obliterate its objective. They gave no quarter and took no prisoners. And there could be no doubt as to precisely what its target was; there was no other ship or inhabited planet in their vicinity. It was gaining slowly on the shuttle. For a moment Doug stood frozen; a wave of fear washed over him and he felt the tangy harshness of its flavor in his suddenly dry mouth. Momentarily he wondered whether this day might be his last.

Chee nudged him on the shoulder.

"Come on, boy, it's just another ship. Buck up, I need you on evasives."

Doug swallowed hard, and turned toward the cockpit.

Chee turned to their passenger then.

"Hang on tight, Rangar. Now we're going to really have to exert ourselves." He waved the two men into the cockpit where they hastily strapped themselves in.

"Computer, get me their on-board communications frequency as soon as possible. We need to know what they're doing as soon as they do." Chee busied himself with the controls. He glanced at Doug.

"Feeling a bit mortal?"

Doug nodded slightly. He was inputting data to the evasives computer.

"Don't worry. We've many days ahead of us."

"I wish I felt as confident."

"If you were an Antillean, you would. Trust me, Dou-Gai-Han. I will dandle your children on my knee one day. Mark my words, Prince." He smiled at the puzzled glance Doug gave him.

"Hurry up with those maneuvers. They will try something pretty soon. When they notice we've begun to increase engine power."

The speakers began to crackle and pop with the sounds of distant radio transmissions fading in and out.

"Admiral, we're coming within hailing distance of the shuttle. We are not yet within firing range."

"Open a hailing frequency, Lieutenant," came a muffled reply.

"Shuttle, this is the patrol ship Wraith, do you copy? Repeat, this is the patrol ship Wraith. Please acknowledge."

"Admiral, there has a been a slight steady increase in their engine power for the past five minutes. I believe they are aware of our presence."

"Keep monitoring them, but take no offensive actions. Engineering, bring us a little closer, then match their speed and course. We want to talk to them, not frighten them off."

"Aye, aye, Sir."

"Well, that's a first," Chee remarked. "They usually fire first and don't leave anything left to ask questions." He was clearly puzzled.

The Wraith repeated its transmission.

"What would it hurt to find out what they want?" Shan-ji suggested.

Chee nodded agreement. He switched on the communicator.

"Wraith, this is shuttle. We hear you. What is your desire?"

A different voice came over the speakers.

"Shuttle, this is Admiral Garvin Malcolm aboard the patrol ship Wraith. I wish to negotiate with all parties on board your shuttle."

After a moment's hesitation, Chee turned on the intercom.

"Rangar? Are you with us?"

"Yes, Captain Chee," came his thin, weak-sounding voice.

"You need to hear this, I think."

Chee turned his attention back to the communicator.

"Admiral Malcolm? What brings you out to this arm of the galaxy? I thought you were flying a desk on Dracona these days." Chee spoke sassily; Doug looked askance at him.

"Captain Chee?" There was a long pause. "Chee? Is that you?"

"In the feathers," Chee replied smartly.

"I should have known it would be you." He was silent for a while. "Thanks for taking care of Commander Gyron for me."

"You are welcome. I most sincerely regret the price of that action. Please accept my condolences."

"Acknowledged, Captain."

"Now, Admiral, what was it you wanted to negotiate?"

"I have been authorized by the High Council to offer you and the two humans aboard your shuttle unconditional amnesty if you will surrender and accompany us back to Na'Chotle and return the Fabreetzan to the custody of the High Council."

For a moment Chee said nothing.

"Admiral Malcolm, no offense, Sir, but if anyone else but you made an Antillean such an offer, I would not believe them for a moment."

Malcolm laughed dryly.

"I expect that's why they dragged me kicking and screaming from my desk and sent me out here," he said with a wry voice. “That, and the fact that I already have established credibility with Master Shan-ji.”

Chee looked at Doug and Shan-ji.

"What do they want with Rangar?" Doug asked.

"Prince Dou-Gai-Han of Malledore?" Malcolm queried.

"Yes. What do you want with the Fabreetzan?"

"He has been accused of committing murder while in the employ of the High Council, Your Highness. The law requires that he be held in custody on Na'Chotle until the charges have been resolved."

"If we return him to Na'Chotle now he will die, Admiral, regardless of the charges. He needs medical care and treatment that is only available on one planet in the universe. And that planet is not Na'Chotle, Sir."

"I understand your position, Your Highness. But under the circumstances my hands are tied. I can only offer the three of you amnesty if you return with us to Na'Chotle now and surrender the Fabreetzan."

"What will happen if we don't surrender?"

There was a long pause before Malcolm’s reply.

"I cannot say for sure. You will probably be declared outlaws by the High Council, and banned from all planets where they have influence. If they choose, they might charge you with treason and offer a bounty for your capture."

Admiral Malcolm only reinforced what Doug already suspected. It was not a pleasant prospect. He looked at Shan-ji and Captain Chee. Chee turned off the communicator.

"This is my doing," Doug said quietly. "I have no right to drag you both along with me."

They both shook their heads.

"We came with you this far of our own free wills, Prince. We'll finish it." Chee spoke firmly. "You're in the right, Dou-Gai-Han. Besides, who's to say the High Council might not change its mind tomorrow and lock us all up for good? Nobody's got to hold a gun to my head to make me do what's right."

Shan-ji nodded agreement as well.

"Can we outrun them?" Doug asked. Chee looked grim.

"As long as they don't blow us to bits first. Keep them talking while I get us some more speed. We're getting close enough to the black hole to use it to our advantage."

Doug nodded. Chee turned the communicator back on.

"Admiral Malcolm, Sir, do you know what a heartstone is?" Doug asked.

"I can't say I've ever heard of it, no."

"Well, every Fabreetzan has one. And when they die, it has to be returned to their planet, or their soul wanders forever, according to their belief. Until the universe starts itself over."

"I see," Malcolm said slowly.

"No, Sir, you don't see. This stone is inside their body. It has to be cut up to retrieve the stone. Do you know how hard that carapace material is?"

"I, er, have some idea, Your Highness. Why is this important?"

"Because when a Knight swears on his honor and gives his word that he will do something, he is bound by that oath. Correct?"

Chee signaled to him that he was ready. Doug nodded.

"Yes, you are correct. Do I take it that this has something to do with you and the Fabreetzan you have on board the shuttle?"

"Yes, Admiral Malcolm, it has everything to do with Rangar and myself. You see, I swore my Knight’s oath to Rangar that if he should die before he returned to Fabree's Planet, I would retrieve his heartstone and return it to his people myself."

There was a long silence.

"Prince Dou-Gai-Han, there are ways, diplomatic channels ...." Malcolm was thinking fast; Doug had clearly thrown him for a loop. "You do not have to go there."

"Admiral Malcolm, I am a Crystal Matrix Knight. And I was the Crown Prince of Malledore long before I became a Knight. All my life I have been taught to keep my promises, whatever the price. I promised Rangar I would take his heartstone to Fabree's Planet, and I will keep that promise. One way or the other, I will be going to Fabree's Planet to return his heartstone. Only I much prefer to take it there inside his still living body." There was a lengthy silence.

"So take your very polite and courteous offer of amnesty and tell the High Council that I prefer to keep my friends alive, thank you very much."

Chee fired up the engines and they bolted forward through the inky blackness of space.

"Admiral, they have increased engine power to maximum. We can still overtake them if we act quickly. What do you want to do?"

"Nothing," came Malcolm's voice gruffly. "Prince Dou-Gai-Han, I was expecting nothing less of you. You are a credit to your family and your vocation. Do you want me to deliver a message to your parents?"

Doug considered this for a moment.

"Tell them I plan to sleep well every night of my life, whether I live to be an old man or not. They will understand."

"As do I. I'll see to it personally, Your Highness."

"Admiral, they are pulling away. I have them in my sights. Do you wish me to fire on them?"

"NO!" Malcolm's voice was practically a roar. He sounded horrified. After a second he continued, less loudly but clearly agitated.

"Do you want to start a pan-galactic war? How would it sound if it got out that we fired on an unarmed shuttle? Especially one carrying the Crown Princes of two strategically important and politically sensitive planets!"

"I'm sorry, Sir, I didn't know."

"Well, you do now." Malcolm sighed. "Good luck, Captain Chee, Master Shan-ji. I hope you all make it back again in one piece."

The connection began to fade. Doug looked over at the shuttle captain curiously. Chee and Shan-ji exchanged a knowing glance.

"A lot hotter than you realized," Captain Chee said ironically. He glanced at the viewscreen.

"They're still following us. Let's get out of here before somebody gets trigger happy." He turned the nose of the shuttle toward the black hole's gravitational field.

"Admiral Malcolm, Sir, he's changing course. He's heading directly for the black hole." The voice from the Wraith sounded agitated.

"Yes, I see." Malcolm sounded unperturbed.

"But that's suicide, Sir! He'll never be able to break away in time."

Malcolm sighed audibly.

"You don't know very much about Antilleans. Hold this position and continue monitoring. You're about to get an education."

The shuttle plunged toward the black hole, accelerating rapidly. Malcolm and the crew of the Wraith watched as it pulled out at last, traveling at an incredible speed.

"Zero point eight nine light, Admiral Malcolm, Sir. Unbelievable! I didn't know those shuttles were designed to withstand that much force."

"They're not. At least, not off the shelf." There was a lengthy silence.

"All right, the show's over. Helm, bring us about. Let's head for home."