Crossing Point

By Terry Kepner

Trapped aboard an unfamiliar ship, at the merciless whim of alien beings, the four prisoners from the scout ship Gentle Wind must somehow survive. The problem is, they don’t speak the language and they don’t understand the culture. Also, one of them is wounded, one has a concussion, and the third is a child. Adding to their difficulties is that an alien has been thrown into their cell. Is this alien supposed to help them or hinder them?
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Sly-Eyes launched himself at the monster at their den’s door. He tried to stretch out his left beside his other arm with claws extended. The sling, however, interfered, and made him bend his arm awkwardly. Unfortunately, he had the farthest to jump. He knew he didn’t have a chance of reaching the creature before it managed to get off at least one shot, if not two. If he were lucky, the wounds wouldn’t be fatal enough to kill him immediately and he could take down the monster. If he weren’t lucky, well, at least the shots fired at him were not being fired at his Co-husbands. That might give one or both them time to deal with their monsters, and his as well.
The metal floor of their den betrayed him. He felt his claws sliding as his legs straightened to propel him out the den door. He wasn’t getting the purchase he required. He failed to hit the monster with his claws at its throat. Instead, Sly-Eyes crashed into its knees, knocking it down on top of him.
That probably saved his life. The monster, on seeing him leaping, had shot at where he had been seated. Sly-Eyes heard the “TWANG” as the projectile, fired over his head, slammed into the wall behind him.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Terry Kepner
• Release date: Sep 30, 2012
• ISBN: 9781617204418

Book preview

Trapped aboard an unfamiliar ship, at the merciless whim of alien beings, the four prisoners from the scout ship Gentle Wind must somehow survive. The problem is, they don’t speak the language and they don’t understand the culture. Also, one of them is wounded, one has a concussion, and the third is a child. Adding to their difficulties is that an alien has been thrown into their cell. Is this alien supposed to help them or hinder them?

——————————

Sly-Eyes launched himself at the monster at their den’s door. He tried to stretch out his left beside his other arm with claws extended. The sling, however, interfered, and made him bend his arm awkwardly. Unfortunately, he had the farthest to jump. He knew he didn’t have a chance of reaching the creature before it managed to get off at least one shot, if not two. If he were lucky, the wounds wouldn’t be fatal enough to kill him immediately and he could take down the monster. If he weren’t lucky, well, at least the shots fired at him were not being fired at his Co-husbands. That might give one or both them time to deal with their monsters, and his as well.

The metal floor of their den betrayed him. He felt his claws sliding as his legs straightened to propel him out the den door. He wasn’t getting the purchase he required. He failed to hit the monster with his claws at its throat. Instead, Sly-Eyes crashed into its knees, knocking it down on top of him.

That probably saved his life. The monster, on seeing him leaping, had shot at where he had been seated. Sly-Eyes heard the TWANG as the projectile, fired over his head, slammed into the wall behind him.

CROSSING

POINT

By Terry L. Kepner

Flying Chipmunk Publishing

Bennington, NH

Copyright © 2008 by Terry L. Kepner.

All Rights Reserved by the publisher. This book may not be reproduced, in whole or in part, without the written permission of the publisher, except short passages for the purpose of reviews

This is a work of fiction. All characters, events, and locations portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, events, or locations is purely coincidental, and in the imagination of the reader.

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Crossing Point

Smashwords Edition — ISBN 978-1-61720-441-8

Published by Flying Chipmunk Publishing

162 Onset Road

Bennington, NH 03442

ISBN: Softcover: 978-1-60459-482-9

1-60459-482-9

Cover Photo Courtesy NASA/JPL-Caltech

All graphics are Copyright © 1991-2004 by ValuSoft®, a division of THQ®.

First Flying Chipmunk Publishing edition: September 2008.

Acknowledgements

Many thanks to Judith Klein-dial, Heather Bilodeau, and my wife, Linda Kepner for their criticisms, comments, and assistance in helping me complete this story.

I’d also like to thank Warren Lapine, without whom this story would never have been published.

Table of Contents

About this book

Title Page

Copyright Page

Acknowledgements

Crossing Point

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Flying Chipmunk Publishing Catalog

CROSSING

POINT

Chapter 1

The first few moments after entry into Normal Space are always the most dangerous in an unexplored star-system. Sly-Eyes unconsciously held his breath as he waited for the dreaded signal that indicated a massive object in front of them, one too big to dodge at their present near-lightspeed velocity.

The navigation computer sent out a constant stream of electronic signals as it simultaneously recovered and interpreted the distorted returns. Each return represented a piece of matter in this new system, a potentially life-threatening chunk of matter if it was in the wrong position. Sly-Eyes’ empty screens filled as the computer displayed the information garnered from those bounced signals, using dots in a variety of shapes to indicate their size and relative danger to the ship.

Pilot-Co-husband Black-Foot kept his eyes locked on the readouts and his hands and feet on the controls. His back was rigid, his fur puffed out, as he sat ready to override and guide the ship through any dangers the computer couldn’t handle.

The ship shuddered and shook slightly under the stress as the in-system engines slowed them from their high speed. Fortunately, the engines slowed the ship much faster than they accelerated it.

Their little kit, securely strapped into her crib-chair, strained to look past her mother at Sly-Eyes’ console. She liked watching the lights blink on her fathers’ monitors, but she knew better than to interrupt her parents when their ship was entering a new system.

Sly-Eyes breathed a sigh of relief as the expanding web of electronic signals showed their immediate vicinity free of ship-destroying chunks of matter. Captain-Wife Quick-Claws reached over and nervously ran her claws affectionately across his head, combing his fur while she simultaneously stroked the kit on her left.

Sly-Eyes shivered and passed over to Pilot-Co-husband’s console some navigation-computer projections on possible safe courses through the minor debris already detected in front of them. Black-Foot began turning the ship in a slow curve to bring them into harmony with the rest of the matter orbiting this star. Traveling faster than objects in the same orbit was always safer than going against the flow; there was a much lower chance of collision with a ship-shattering too-late-detected piece of matter. Engineer White-Ear, his other Co-husband, monitored the engines, keeping them at peak efficiency, and watching for problems and correcting them before they became serious. Silently, the three males tended their consoles, Captain-Wife Quick-Claws and the kit observing everything quietly, seated above and behind them.

It was already apparent that they were in the plane of this star’s rotation. They had arrived to one side of the system, facing against the orbital flow of matter around this star. That put them where they could expect the highest concentration of matter, and danger.

Pilot-Co-husband would need his full concentration until the ship slowed enough to end the chance for a collision. Sly-Eyes could smell his tension. At their present deceleration, they would be at a relative halt, coasting in orbit with the rest of the matter at this distance from the star, in only four hours.

No sooner had Sly-Eyes started to relax, than the navigational beacon light began blinking on his console. Puzzled, he queried the computer, wondering if there was a malfunction. The light continued blinking, so he put on his earphones and tuned the radio to match the frequency given by the computer. At first, he didn’t understand what he was hearing, but then it dawned on him. He was hearing a beacon!

The computer had already tried matching the signals to standard navigational codes. Its lack of success had triggered the blinking console light.

{Quick-Claws! Quick-Claws!} he burst out, startled out of protocol. {I’m picking up a signal! This system is inhabited!}

Quick-Claws stared over Sly-Eyes’ shoulder at the readouts, then turned to Engineer-Co-husband White-Ear on her left. {Stop us, immediately!}

{Yes, Captain-Wife.} He started flipping switches and moving sliders on his console.

Sly-Eyes felt the ship shudder and shake heavily. Usually, the engines pushed this hard only when they had to escape some danger, something that the Gentle Wind had never had to do. Most ships could not have increased their deceleration vectors by such a huge margin, but their scout ship had oversized engines for dealing with unexpected, and sometimes unpleasant, surprises. But the increased engine capability came at the expense of defensive weaponry; the expanded engines used the structural compartments weapons would have occupied.

Being unarmed, Sky-Clan scout ships depended on their sensitive sensors and extra-powerful engines to detect and elude danger. The Gentle Wind would stop quickly and her crew could examine the star-system carefully, in safety, before the system’s inhabitants knew the ship was in the system. By the time the Gentle Wind was noticed, if at all, it would already be on its way out. The only sign it had ever been there would be a disguised passive sentinel beacon, left to monitor the system and gather data pending the arrival of a first-contact ship. The Gentle Wind had five of the ultra-expensive beacons when they left Home, now there were only three.

Sly-Eyes didn’t need to look at what his two Co-husbands were doing to know they were working as hard as he was, although he could see from the corners of his eyes Black-Foot’s claws moving across his console as he adjusted controls. Sly-Eyes routed the strange signals he was receiving through the main computers, trying to match them to something that would tell him what was going on in this star-system, and if it was a danger to them.

{Captain-Wife,} Sly-Eyes said, dropping back into the formal protocol she preferred, {I think I’m picking up a navigational beacon.} He keyed in another set of decoding instructions. {But without some idea of what the beacon is sending, I can’t translate it.} He looked for her reaction from the corner of his left eye. She was interested, but not upset at his lack of success.

{Do your best, Navigator-Husband.}

{Yes, Captain-Wife,} he said, shaking his head in acknowledgement, and concentrating on his instruments.

{Captain-Wife,} said White-Ear, {I’m pushing the engines to their limits. We might have some damage to repair, but we’ll be stopped, relative, in two hours. I think I’d better go to the Engine Den.} Sly-Eyes heard him unbuckle and slide out of his chair. White-Ear then headed on out of the Command Den, his claws clicking on the wooden floor of the tunnel as he headed to the other end of their ship.

The kit started to fumble with her restraining harness, but Captain-Wife placed a hand on the little one’s arm, stopping her. {Stay, daughter,} she murmured as she stared intently at Pilot-Co-husband ‘s monitors, {Your position is here.} The kit stopped her struggles and leaned forward to watch her fathers’ displays.

Pilot-Co-husband had remained silent until now, concentrating on his monitors and controls, {Shall I take us out of the ecliptic?}

Sly-Eyes took a quick look at the navigational monitor between their seats. Any system inhabitants would not be expecting them to do that, he thought. Plus, going above or below the star’s plane of rotation would reduce the amount of matter coming toward them. Yes, it could be to their advantage to do that.

On the other claw, they would lose the cover provided by the rest of the matter in this system when they reached relative orbital speed. Being out of the ecliptic would make them stand out. Plus, they would have to put in some complicated maneuvering to reach any planets in the system. But it was a good idea anyway.

{Yes,} said Quick-Claws, apparently following the same logical trail he had. He smiled, gratified, he was getting better at logical analysis, but it was hard to do sometimes.

An hour later, Sly-Eyes still had not translated the signals he was receiving. "{They are on four separate channels, Captain-Wife. One seems to be simply an identification code. I think it is of this system and not just the beacons’ because I can locate four distinct sources, all equidistant from each other. All are in the ecliptic of this star. And all are pretty far out. We Jumped inside the beacons’ orbit.

{The signals are nothing like those in League space. They are definitely alien. We have discovered a new space-faring race, perhaps even more than one.}

This was great news for their little family! They could easily jump several levels in the Clan by returning with information about an unknown space-faring race. To the best of his knowledge, theirs would be the first family to make such a discovery in a century. From the edge of his eye, he caught the look of elation that crossed their Wife’s face. He smiled, pleased at her reaction.

{I have good news for you, Pilot-Co-husband,} he continued. {Our speed provides a Doppler effect of the signals the beacons are broadcasting. By coupling the signals in the computer I should have a complete map of the system for you in just a moment.} Sly-Eyes typed in a few quick commands and turned to watch the monitor between his and Pilot-Co-husband’s chairs, and to better see Quick-Claws’ reaction to his ingenuity. The quick smile of approval she gave him when she thought he wasn’t looking gave him a warm feeling.

There was a brief pause, and then a ring of light appeared around the representation of their ship in the center of the monitor. It slowly expanded, leaving behind glowing dots marking the moons, planets, and sun, in this system. In a matter of moments, they had a complete map. Their ship had not been in the system long enough to accurately identify the orbits, so the computer shaded the orbit lines to show its extrapolated best guess for the major objects. Normally, it took them at least four days to get such a map as they waited for the electronic signals to reach and bounce from any planets, moons, and asteroids, and track their movements long enough to provide orbital data. The Doppler signal bounces provided by the four satellites gave them that information this time.

The kit cooed as the monitor display sparkled and reached a hand towards the blinking lights. Sly-Eyes smiled at the kit’s reaction, as did Quick-Claws, he saw from the corners of his eyes. The kit loved the Command Den with its myriad of blinking and moving lights; it was a feast for her eyes.

Almost as an after-thought, the beacons appeared as blinking dots inside tiny star shapes. One was almost behind them, and two were at the edges of the screen. The fourth was not visible because it was off the screen on the other side of the system from them.

{Five planets, two are gas giants, and almost no asteroids of sizable consequence,} Pilot-Co-husband whispered. Louder, he added, {Which of the five do you think is the inhabited planet?}

Sly-Eyes sighed, flicking his tongue out briefly. {I can’t tell. We are not receiving radio signals from any of the planets or even the moons.}

{Is it possible this system is uninhabited? That it’s merely a Jump Point on the way to other systems?} Captain-Wife asked, her ears twitching excitedly. If this were a waypoint, they could hide and wait for ships to pass through, pointing out the directions to look for the inhabited star systems they traveled between. Going home with location data on several inhabited systems and not just a single Jump point could boost them several more levels in the hierarchy of the Clan Mothers. And being able to determine the size of this unknown constellation of worlds could move her decades ahead of normal promotions. Their success, or rather, lack of success with deploying their planet beacons would be forgiven completely.

The collision alarm buried any answer she might have received. Pilot-Co-husband began cursing and slammed his control sticks hard to the starboard, making the Humans press against their restraints until the compensators kicked in. The kit hissed in surprise. Outlined with a double-ring, its predicted path a dotted line that intersected their ship, a small object abruptly appeared on the map. It was headed for them at a high speed, actually leaving a visible trail on the monitor.

Sly-Eyes, not believing what he was seeing, started typing and relaying the information from his primary display. As he spoke, four additional rings appeared around dots on the monitors. {A small rocket of some type. It’s moving at forty-five percent light-speed and accelerating. It’s closing at seventy-five percent light-speed, relative. It was launched from those two asteroids twenty points to the port of dead ahead of us and down three points. Two others were launched as well. Both are way off target. One will pass far in front of us, the other closer but still well in front of our nose.} The computer’s projections of the paths of all five objects appeared on the monitors.

{Based on distance readings from our signals, they picked up our entry to this system thirty-five minutes ago. They launched the rockets within minutes. The computer only now picked up the radar reflection of their launch. The rocket is fifteen minutes from collision. It is correcting course to follow us.}

Captain-Wife was already ordering Engineer-Co-husband to go to emergency thrust. Pilot-Co-husband was frantically trying to change their course and get them away from the rocket. The engines increased their vibrations even more. {I am shunting power from unessential tasks,} White-Ear’s voice came over the Engine Den link as the lights dimmed drastically and they weight sank deeper into their chairs as he diverted power from the compensators. Quick-Claws face was impassive when Sly-Eyes took a quick glance at her from the corners of his eyes.

Sly-Eyes could tell they were going to lose the race. Their momentum was against them, carrying them closer to the attacking object even as it still accelerated towards them. While they had extra-powerful engines, they could not quickly enough counter both their own speed and that of the rocket coming at them. And now the rocket was closing at almost eighty percent light-speed.

If they had detected the object sooner, or the launch location had been farther away or even moving slower, they might have had a chance. But neither of those had happened. They were trapped. Escape was an impossibility given their high speed and the late warning caused by the time it took their radar system to detect the rockets.

He wished the Clan Mothers had included at least one defensive rocket for the ship as a hedge. He would gladly sacrifice a little bit of speed for something to throw at that inconceivable rocket bearing down on them.

Closer analysis, and additional time-data from bounced radio waves, showed that what he had first thought to be asteroids must be ships. Asteroids simply did not orbit a system at ten percent of light-speed. Their courses indicated both were just passing through the system. Most likely, they were headed for a Jump point at the edge of the system. But why would they immediately attack a strange ship? And to launch a spread of three rockets in the hope that one of them might be pointed in the right direction indicated much preparation, and paranoia. Why would they even be prepared to attack a strange ship?

He hadn’t realized he had spoken that last thought aloud until Captain-Wife answered, {Maybe they are at war. Just because our League has given us peace for the last hundred and fifty years doesn’t mean others are as fortunate.} She sighed as her sinuous tail twitched nervously.

The ship now faced the attacking rocket sideways, its engines straining desperately to put distance between them. It was just a strike of bad luck that the danger had found them so close, so quickly. A fluke, a million to one chance, and they had drawn it. Instead of accolades from their Clan Mothers at their discovery, they would be little more than an expanding cloud of dust and gas when the Clan began to wonder why they had not returned.

Tears welled in Sly-Eyes eyes as he realized he would never see their kit named, but he did not let that distract him from seeking a way to save them. He queried the computer for course options and looked for any solution, no matter how remote, to their quandary. The small Command Den filled with the scents of upset and dismay. The kit whimpered, scared, but not knowing exactly why her parents were upset.

Engineer-Co-husband suddenly appeared in the Command Den, slipping into his chair, embracing both the kit and Captain-Wife before sitting and securing himself. There must be nothing more he could do in the Engine Den. Sly-Eyes reached over and placed one hand on Black-Foot’s shoulder, his tail still entwined with Captain-Wife’s and his Co-husband’s.

The Command Den was small, as befitted its function. Captain-Wife’s chair occupied the center, raised by two steps so she could always see her husbands’ monitors, and consoles. Pilot-Co-husband Black-Foot’s chair was directly in front of her while Sly-Eyes’ was beside his to the right and White-Ear’s was to the left. The three chairs formed a short arc in front of and around their Wife’s Command chair. Bolted to the left arm of her chair was the kit’s small crib-chair with its mesh-net restraints covering it and keeping the kit safe.

They silently watched Black-Foot as he futilely struggled to rescue them from the quickly approaching rocket. If only they had something to shoot at it, Sly-Eyes thought. He desperately looked around the Command Den, stopping to stare at the Beacon controls. Could one of the Beacons somehow be converted... ?

{Quick-Claws,} Sly-Eyes suddenly shouted excitedly. {Our Planetary Beacons! Maybe it will confuse that rocket if we launched one!}

Quick-Claws barely paused, {Launch them all, immediately!}

Sly-Eyes flipped open the small covered panel between his and Black-Foot’s consoles. Normally, while the launch doors were opening, they carefully instructed a Beacon’s computer with system data so it could properly place itself in orbit around the correct planet. This time he merely ripped out the safety pegs on the launch switches and pressed them. The three remaining Planetary Beacon lights went dark.

The Gentle Wind lurched violently, throwing them against their restraining straps as a horrendous crashing, tearing sound reverberated throughout the little ship. The three multi-ton probes had blasted straight through the thin doors protecting them from raw space. Without programming, the three probes promptly took off in different directions. They gyrated wildly as they left, the random data patterns in their memory banks providing insane instructions on courses and velocities, making it impossible to predict where any of them would head next.

Sly-Eyes saw White-Ear flinch as the outside monitors showed one probe abruptly reversing direction and narrowly missing slamming into them.

There was a tremendous flash from every display. A second later the ship shook and shuddered, accompanied by the sharp pinging sounds of debris slamming into their hull. From deep inside the ship behind them, there was a series of loud bangs ending in an even louder boom. Sparks exploded from two panels in front of Engineer-Co-husband White-Ear and three of his six primary displays went dark. All the other displays in the Command Den flickered and then failed as well. Silence.

Sly-Eyes sat in the dark, blinking his eyes as the den filled with the acrid odor of burnt insulation, making him and the others sneeze repeatedly. He could scarcely believe they were still alive!

The main lights flickered on once, twice, then stayed off as the emergency battery lights came on instead. It was much darker without the main lights, but they could still see, and the engines were still running, although the noise level was markedly lower. Fortunately, the compensators hadn’t failed or the remaining thrust of the engines would have crushed them.

Some monitors came back on. By their glow, he could see the stunned expressions of his family.

Black-Foot was the first to speak, {It exploded before it hit us.} He looked down at his console. {It was almost a full two miles away.} He looked up at Captain-Wife. {Either it locked onto a probe or a probe blundered in front of it.}

White-Ear flicked a few last switches and studied his monitors. {I show three engine vanes damaged, from minor to major. The dorsal is non-functional. Without going outside, I can’t tell if it can be fixed.}

Cutting off Quick-Claws’ obvious question, he added, {We have limited maneuverability, but we do not have Jump capability.} He looked a moment longer at his console. {If these readings are correct, it’ll take weeks to build up the power for a Jump with the damaged collectors.}

Captain-Wife, holding the shivering and terrified kit to her chest, spoke calmly. {Pilot-Husband, take us as far from those people as possible.}

Black-Foot shook his head in acknowledgement and turned back to his console. Sly-Eyes began his report, {Most navigational instruments are dead. I have started self-repair programs. The enemy ships are not changing courses. Maybe they think we are dead. No, one of them is moving. It probably started soon after the missiles were launched.}

Pilot-Co-husband swore again. Kit was learning many new words today, Sly-Eyes thought, irrationally. Before anything more could be said, there came a bang and a vibration from inside the ship. Engine noise level dropped another octave. White-Ear swore, then said, {The port vane controls just gave out.} He started unbuckling his restraints, {We have two left, the starboard is at sixty-five percent and the ventral is at forty-nine percent efficiency.} Sly-Eyes heard him leave the Command Den again, this time running.

Sly-Eyes studied the few working instruments in his console. {Only one ship is moving from its previous course, but only generally in our direction. It is staying in the ecliptic while we are headed above it. It could be headed for a Jump point. In another twenty minutes, they will see we escaped destruction and pick up our attempt to escape.}

Captain-Wife soothed their kit, who was mercifully quiet. {We will do our best,} she said calmly.

Sly-Eyes shook his head in agreement. A moment later, he felt her hand on his head and her tail tighten briefly around his. The touch was comforting; as was the quick look he took at her proud profile while she studied the Pilot’s monitors. He closed his eyes; still surprised they had survived the attack. He returned his attention to his console and began repairs. He occasionally glanced at the blips on his monitor as one crawled closer while the other continued on its original course through the system.

{They have seen that we survived and that we are moving. They are changing course. They will reach us in two hours, Sly-Eyes informed the others as he checked his instruments again, Unless they launch another rocket.} Crippled as they were, they couldn’t outrun the attacking ship, and there were no large asteroids or moons close enough for them to sneak behind and perhaps find a hole to go to ground and hide in.

Several wires inside the console had burnt through their connections. Sly-Eyes quickly stripped back the insulation, twisted the wires onto their posts, and wrapped them with tape. Several breakers were fused; he replaced them with spares, scraping carbon from the sockets with the points of his claws before seating the new components.

{Well done, Husband-White-Ear,} he heard Captain-Wife murmur. At the same time, Black-Foot eeped excitedly and the engines increased their noise level fractionally. White-Ear must have fixed a problem.

A moment later, Sly-Eyes snapped shut the access panel and watched as two more monitors began displaying information. He opened another access panel and continued working.

The time passed quickly as the enemy ship neared. When it was only ten minutes away and began obvious maneuvers to close with them, Captain-Wife announced, {They clearly aren’t going to destroy us with another rocket. They could easily have done that from much farther away. They must want to capture us.}

Sly-Eyes stopped working. He hadn’t considered what being captured meant in his rush to repair his console. {Oh, no!} He turned to face both Captain-Wife and Pilot-Co-husband. {We can’t allow that. Our records will lead them directly to Home!} He looked down at his console, appalled at the thought of erasing all their hard work for the last two years. But the thought of another species, and a hostile one at that, getting that data was worse.

Captain-Wife shook her head. {Yes. We can’t let them get our records. I’ve been putting that off, hoping we’d escape, but,} she gave a heartfelt sigh, {erase everything.}Sly-Eyes could see the pain in her eyes as she slowly turned to the consoles built into her chair and started typing on her control panel. When they returned home, if they ever did, it would be in total disgrace.

He sat back in his chair and thought. Ninety-eight stars charted and mapped. A volume of space almost twenty-eight light-years in diameter and one hundred light years in length. All that work wasted. All that time wasted. And all that time isolated from Home and Clan for no purpose.

{Captain-Wife,} he said softly, {Let’s encode and copy the star data to an information chip and hide it with the kit’s toys. They can’t know our written language, and if none of us give them the key, they’ll never figure it out.}

He dared not look back at her, looking instead at her reflection in the glass of one of his working monitors. He pretended to study the information displayed there, afraid she would reject his suggestion. "{One of us might escape in the future. We need to warn the Clan Mothers about these creatures.}"

Captain-Wife stared at his reflection in a still-dead display.

{If we use the League’s spoken name for Mother World, in trade-lingo, as the key-lock, then even if they learn our language they still won’t find the key-word. The key word will be in a different language.}

Slowly, she shook her head. {Do it, Sly-Eyes.} She tapped quickly on her console.

He slumped in relief, then sat forward and pulled a recording chip from storage. The time it took the enemy to board their ship should give him plenty of time to record his in-system data and Quick-Claws’ stellar data that she had just made available to his computer.

{White-Ear, get your cutting torch from its locker and destroy all the kit’s teaching chips, and our encyclopedia chips} he heard Captain-Wife order into the link. {Black-Foot, try to give us as much time as you can.} He heard the kit’s crib-chair creak as she returned her to it for safety, saying, {Stay in your position, daughter.}

She left the Command Den, returning a few minutes later with their guns and survival belts from the lockers in the Sleeping Den. {Sly-Eyes, when you finish, disable your navigation computer by removing a small part. Leave this in its place.} She held out a burned and twisted fragment from something electronic.

{Hide the part you remove in the spare parts drawer of Black-Foot’s console. If we ever get back to the ship, we can restore navigation. But they will be unable to use it in the meantime.}

He shook his head and went back to work, making sure all the data was stored and properly encrypted. Finally, he finished. He immediately started a security wipe program on his computer’s storage systems. He scrunched down on his knees and opened the access panel to the navigation computer’s insides. While he waited for the computer to finish, he investigated the contents of the pouches on his belt.

Three pouches were filled with emergency food rations and vitamin tablets, enough to last several days before he would be forced to eat whatever food their captors supplied. The rations were not very tasty, but better than nothing. A fourth contained small bandages and rudimentary medicines for minor injuries. He clipped the belt around his waist and settled it as comfortably as possible; he would be wearing it for a long time.

He watched his Co-husband making life difficult for the other ship’s pilot, countering their final closing movements with his own. The alien ship was much larger than theirs, easily twenty times as long, if the scales on the monitor displays were still accurate. Sly-Eyes could see at least three missile emplacements on this side of it alone. Abruptly, the sensors on that side of their ship went dead, there was a dull thump from behind them as the entire ship shuddered. Another part of Engineer-Co-husband’s console went dark, followed a second later by one of Pilot’s displays. The engines lapsed into silence.

Black-Foot slumped in his chair. {They knocked out the ventral vane. Didn’t even see them launch the rocket.} There was a brief vibration as he started the ship into a slow roll, {Perhaps they’ll think it’s in reaction to their rocket. At least they’ll have to waste time stopping our rotation before attempting to board us.}

{Well,} Captain-Wife said bleakly, {they definitely want us alive.} Minutes later the hull rang as the alien ship locked magnetic cables onto the ship’s hull.

At the same time, Sly-Eyes saw the computer finish wiping its memory. Sighing, he removed a small part similar in size and shape to the one Quick-Claws had given him. The navigation computer controls went dark.

He placed the damaged piece in the open plug, and then sighted carefully at it with his gun. He gently squeezed the trigger and a beam of light lanced out. There was a flash as the plastic melted a bit more, putting scorch marks on the board behind it. The acrid smell of burnt plastic made his nose tickle, and he sneezed in reaction. He stroked his whiskers.

He sighed again, and replaced the access cover. Turning, he tossed the computer part to Black-Foot, who had been watching him now that his own console was useless. You should do the same, he suggested. Pilot-Co-husband shook his head in agreement, opened his console, and began unplugging and re-plugging wires and components.

The ship shuddered as another explosion shook it.