The youngster was in uniform, which meant he was on duty. "You aren't the only one," the computer told him.Īs soon as the shavetail lieutenant had stepped into the London Pub. "I wish I'd chosen a different bar," he said. When he looked at the FTL display again, the four warships had slid a little closer. Unfortunately, they would overtake him long before he could deliver the news-long before he gut out of the Orion Nebula, for that matter. Loki and all the worlds in human space needed to know about the Zanat. Taking on four was sure suicide, and he could not afford it. The four glowing points in the detector display were Zanat warships. There was little enough else to see with the drive on, none of the normal-space instruments worked. Pace as he would, though, his eyes kept coming back to the hyperdrive detector. He paced up and down the cabin, a lean, trim man a bit below middle height whose wide, high-cheek-boned face was framed by a thin fringe of black beard. "I can see that for myself, thanks," he growled. "Well, hero, they're still gaining," it said with what he thought was misplaced amusement. It was as cynically underhanded as he was. ![]() ![]() Chang did not trust his machine very far. a computer will develop a personality of its own-the current flows get set. But after enough time, memory dumps or no. In a way, that was an advantage: the navigation data programmed in were Terran Confederacy, the most far-reaching set even if it was six hundred years out of date. She went into or out of hyperdrive with a jolt that twisted a man's guts, her air recycler wheezed, and she had a 5% waver in her pseudogravity, so Chang's weight went through a seven-kilo cycle every twenty minutes. Erasmus Chang's scout Praise of Folly was too old.
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