Like Newton, the other fifteen scientists had been top specialists in their fields, which had the ironic effect of reducing their technical discussions to almost nothing, since none of them had more than a basic understanding of the others' fields of expertise. Ray herself, for example, spent much of her time socializing with Fatima Parvati, the Venusian microbiologist, and her family, talking about Venusian popular entertainment and politics. Bobby had often accompanied her, since the two Parvati children were nearly the same age he was, and the three of them spent much of the trip playing games on Bobby's computer.
The Montevideo had made a two-day refueling stop at Space Station RV-3 in the Barnards system, and Ray had spent much of the time exploring it with the Parvatis and Bobby. It dated back to the 24th century, when the growing power of the Ophiuchius Group made it prudent for the UWSS to build a series of outposts along the Ophiuchian frontier. RV-3, being closest to the 70 Ophiuchi system itself, had become the Space Rangers' main outpost, and it showed. RV-3 had originally been a wheel-type space station, built to rotate to simulate gravity in its outer rim, but it had since been equipped with artificial gravity and its rotation halted. Its original wheel shape had disappeared within a maze of newer construction as it expanded to accommodate rising commerce between the UWSS and the Ophiuchius Group.
Now Ray found herself looking at RV-3's sister station RV-5, and the differences were instructive. RV-5 was off the beaten path, and as a result had undergone little modification since its initial contruction. The Space Rangers hadn't deemed it necessary to ugrade the station to artificial gravity, and it still relied on simulated rotational gravity. The docking port ran out from the station's hub, and was designed to rotate opposite the station's spin, remaining motionless with respect to incoming ships.
Ray was lying in her crash chair when the door to the pilot room opened and Winky DelPonte entered. He switched on his helmet radio and said with his usual grin, "Hey, Vena, we're about to dock with the space station, so we'll be switching off the artificial gravity in a minute. After that, I'll come back and help guide you in through the forward airlock."
"Thanks, Winky," Ray replied, returning his smile. He switched off his radio and disappeared back into the pilot room, and less than a minute later her weight slowly dropped until it felt like she was floating in the ocean, barely in contact with the crash chair. There was a faint jar, and Winky came back again, this time weaving back and forth as he walked.
"I've got magnets clipped to my boots," he explained. "Standard way to walk around a ship in zero gravity." Pulling a slim gray package out of one pocket, he added, "I've got a set here for you, too." She clipped the magnets onto her shoes, unstrapped herself from the crash chair, and let Winky lead her slowly into the pilot room. She found herself crouching down as she walked, lowering her center of gravity to improve her control over her movements.
In the pilot room, Winky pressed a control next to the hatch, sealing it closed. "Hatch secure, Skipper," he announced.
Rocky Jones was standing next to the forward airlock, to the left of the pilot station. "Unsealing forward airlock," he announced, and pressed a sequence of three switches before manually undogging the airlock door and swinging it open. Winky guided Ray across the pilot room and into the airlock, where they were joined by Jones. He dogged the inner airlock door shut, then leaned past Ray to jack his helmet radio to a control panel by the outer airlock door. "XV-2 to Space Station RV-5. Forward airlock secure."
A voice came over Ray's own helmet radio. "Space Station RV-5 to XV-2, acknowledged. Beginning airlock cycle." The next moment, it felt as though a hurricane was blowing through the airlock as air began to rush in to fill the vacuum. The puffy feeling of her skin died away, and for the first time since losing consciousness in the engine room, she heard sounds coming from beyond her oxygen helmet. There was an odd echoing quality as the voice from the station announced, "Space Station RV-5 to XV-2, airlock cycle complete," because it was coming from the speaker grill of the airlock control panel as well as her helmet radio. She reached up and switched off her helmet radio as Jones and Winky did the same to theirs. Then the outer airlock door opened, and for the first time in twenty-three days she saw a new face.
It was a man with dark hair and a bony face, and he smiled at the sight of the three of them. Ray followed the other two out of the airlock, then stood aside to allow the new man to reseal the airlock door. Rocky Jones and Winky switched off the flow of oxygen to their helmets and lifted them off their heads, and Ray did the same. She shook her hair free, and inhaled deeply, glad to be able to breathe without the helmet.
Jones and Winky both saluted the new man, and he returned their salutes before turning to Ray and smiling at her. "Welcome to Space Station RV-5, Miss Ray," he said as he extended a hand. "I'm Jeremy Clark, the station commander."
Ray smiled back as she shifted the helmet to her arm and took his hand. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Ranger Clark. After the trip I've had, it's a pleasure to meet anyone."
"You can stow your helmet in that locker, there," he said with a gesture. "Then, I'll be pleased to escort you and the crew of the Orbit Jet to my quarters. I'm sure you'll be happy to have something like normal weight again."
The trip to Clark's quarters was more complicated than Ray thought it would be. First, the four of them magnet-walked to the boom that led from the docking port back to the hub of Space Station RV-5. There they boarded a sort of trolley that took them across the boom to the hub. At the end of the boom was a huge metal wall that was rotating clockwise, with a set of four openings at the rim. The trolley followed a set of tracks next to the wall until it was moving at the same speed, then entered one of the openings. The trolley moved along a tunnel until it came to a round hole in the floor, paused above it, then descended into it. Ray felt dizzy at first, like being in a carnival ride, but as the trolley descended, the dizziness grew less, and she felt the first tug of returning weight pressing her to her seat. It half a minute for the trolley to drop all the way down to the outer rim of Space Station RV-5. At the bottom of the shaft was a brightly lit room with an unattended control station. Ray could tell that her weight was back to normal.
The four of them alighted from the trolley. Jones frowned at the control station, saying, "Why isn't anyone on duty here, sir?"
"Orders from Earth," Clark told him. "We want to keep your presence here known to as few people as possible. You'll all be staying in my private quarters while the Orbit Jet is being repaired."
"Say, Commander," DelPonte interjected, "they don't think there's a spy in the Space Rangers, do they?"
"At this point, Winky, we can't rule anything out," Clark responded. "Somebody leaked your flight plans to that attacking ship, and only a handful of people had that information. Also, we've got the Dartmouth in from Wolf 1061, with several Ophiuchian nationals on board. We certainly have no intention of letting them know you're here."
"I understand, sir," said Jones. "Please, lead the way."
Commander Clark did so, and the three members of the Orbit Jet's crew followed him down a deserted corridor that led to an airtight hatch that looked similar to those on the ship. Ray knew that every room on the space station was airtight in case of an accidental air leak. The hatch opened, and the four entered Clark's quarters.
The Space Rangers had been Bobby Matthews' favorite topic of conversation back on the Montevideo, and from him Ray had learned that command staff on RV-Class space stations served four years shifts. It was a long time to spend sitting in a metal can, so the Space Rangers were generous when it came to transporting personal effects. Clark's quarters had occupied four rooms, and the largest of them, the living room, had a comfortable sofa, three chairs, an entertainment console, a patterned carpet on the floor, and several paintings on the walls. There were also two cots stacked against one of the walls.
"Miss Ray," said Clark, "you'll be sleeping in my bedroom, there. Rocky and Winky, you'll be sleeping in here."
DelPonte grinned and gave one of his trademark winks. "All the comforts of home, eh, Commander?"
Clark smiled back, and Ray found herself doing so as well. DelPonte's good humor at being hidden away in Clark's quarters made the inconvenience seem much more bearable.
"Sir," Jones asked, "how long will it be before the Orbit Jet is spaceworthy again?"
"Based on your report, Rocky," Clark answered, "I think we're looking at forty-eight hours, tops."
So, two days cooped up in Clark's quarters. Well, Ray told herself, you volunteered, and now you get to live the glamorous life of a Space Ranger.
* * *
Ronald Drake, Secretary of Space Affairs for the United Worlds of the Solar System, knew that he shouldn't keep watching the clock on the wall of his office. There was plenty to keep him occupied, but he found it nearly impossible to keep from dwelling on the mission of the Orbit Jet. No news, as the ancient proverb had it, was good news. If everything was going according to plan, Jeremy Clark would let him know in the course of his daily report at 1400 hours, and not a second before. Only a disaster would cause Clark to call in early. Nevertheless, Drake fretted, and found his eyes drifting back to the clock.
At 1400 hours exactly, the speaker on his desk crackled to life. "Space Station RV-5 to Earth Headquarters, Office of Space Affairs. Space Station RV-5 to Earth Headquarters, Office of Space Affairs." From its position at the extreme limit of astrophone range, Space Station RV-5 was unable to transmit a visual signal. Voice contact was all that Drake could expect.
Pressing the contact on his own comm unit, Drake answered, "Secretary Drake speaking. Come in, RV-5."
"This is Clark, Mr. Secretary," was the immediate response. "I'm ready with the report on flight codename Haystack."
"Anxious to have it, Clark. Send it over the scrambler." Operation Haystack, as the mission to rescue Professor Newton had been codenamed, was far too sensitive to allow uncoded transmissions. Rising from the communications desk, Drake strode over to the scrambler. Using the latest encryption techniques, Clark's report had been converted to a series of binary signals, and added to a stream of randomly generated numbers. Only the scrambler in the Office of Space Affairs was capable of sorting out Clark's signal.
"Ready here, sir," came Clark's voice from the comm desk.
"Procede, Clark."
A tape fed out of scrambler, and Drake anxiously scanned it. Despite his concentration, Drake was aware of Griffin entering the office. "A late report on Rocky Jones' mission to Ophiuchius," Drake explained, looking up.
The tape feeding from the scrambler slowed, then stopped. "That's it, sir," came Clark's voice.
"Thanks, Clark. Over and out."
Drake read to Griffin from the tape. "Damage to Orbit Jet repaired on space station. Area thoroughly searched but no trace of attacking ship nor clue to identity."
"Who did it, sir?" Griffin inquired. "Any idea?"
Drake felt a fresh wave of anxiety wash over him as the uncertainty of the whole situation darkened his mind. "Griff, I'd give up our claim to Aquarius to find out who it was."
"A tough order, sir," said Griffin. "A sudden attack out of space by an unidentified ship. Could it be space pirates, sir?"
Drake shook his head. Space pirates preferred to prey on commercial ships. Launching an attack on a fully-armed Space Ranger vessel would be an excellent way for a ship full of pirates to find their careers as freebooters, and their lives, coming to an abrupt end. Looking back down at the tape, he continued to read. "The blast-off from space island was successful at 0814. Rocky Jones, Winky, and Vena Ray aboard. In daily communication Rocky Jones reports flight without incident. Yesterday's message garbled, and now out of contact. Must assume that Rocky is through the Curtain and flying in the Ophiuchius Formation."
Drake handed the tape to Griffin, then turned away. What was going on out there beyond RV-5? Drake would know no peace of mind until he heard again from the Orbit Jet.
* * *
When does a ship enter a stellar system? More than one interstellar war had turned on the question.
It would have been convenient for the human race if the borders of stellar systems were as clear-cut as the boundary between land and sea. Unfortunately, a stellar system simply became more diffuse the further you went from the primary star. It could be argued, and had been argued, that a stellar system reached out as far as the primary star's gravity well. Even a snowflake drifting two light years from Earth's sun, twelve trillion miles away, could be considered part of the Solar System if it was travelling in an orbit around the sun, however many tens of millions of years that orbit might take. Does that snowflake's orbit mark the outer boundary of the Solar System?
The Ophiuchians had arrived at their own means of settling the question. They had built a chain of space stations at the extreme gravitational edge of the 70 Ophiuchi system, three light years from 70 Ophiuchi A and B. As far as the Ophiuchians were concerned, these stations, known as the Ophiuchius Formation, marked the outer edge of their system, and any ship passing within the thirty-six trillion mile wide bubble of space they guarded was violating Ophiuchian sovereignty, and could be expected to pay whatever price the Ophiuchians chose to set.
From Rocky Jones' point of view, the question of where to enter the Ophiuchius Formation was a simple one. Since the Orbit Jet was supposed to be suffering a navigational malfunction that left it incapable of determining its position, it could just as easily come out of superluminal drive right on the doorstep of one of the Ophiuchian space stations. That would make it harder for the Ophiuchians to claim that the Orbit Jet was trying to sneak into their system, and place him on the moral high ground. Vena Ray had agreed that this would give them their best chance of making it to Ophiuchius Prime alive and with some freedom of action.
With a snap, the Orbit Jet's superluminal drive reset itself, and the ship appeared in normal space. Rocky Jones shook off the effects, and began scanning the surrounding space for the homing beacon sent out by the stations of the Ophiuchius Formation. He was immediately rewarded with a strong signal, indicating that they had appeared within a light minute of an Ophiuchian station. "Winky," he announced, "we've just entered the Ophiuchius Formation. They should be spotting us any minute."
As always happened when they were in a tense situation, DelPonte's jaunty attitude submerged itself beneath his Space Ranger training, and he was all business. "Well, then, we better be on the alert, Rocky."
Jones nodded, his attention fixed on the ship's instruments. "Right you are, Winky."
* * *
Eighteen trillion miles from the Orbit Jet, the worlds of the 70 Ophiuchi system orbited their two suns. 63 million miles out from 70 Ophiuchi A was Ophiuchius Prime, the ruling world of the Ophiuchius Group. Somewhat smaller than Earth, with a thinner atmosphere, Ophiuchius Prime was nevertheless the most Earthlike world within twenty light years of Earth itself, and so attracted many settlers from the Solar System during the days of subluminal travel in the 21st and 22nd centuries.
With the discovery of the Old Ophiuchian relics, Ophiuchius Prime became the most important world in human space with the exception of Earth itself. Four centuries after the arrival of the first subluminal starship, Ophiuchius Prime had a population of 250 million people in cities and towns scattered across the face of the planet. The largest of these was Ophiuchius City, which straddled the banks of the Serpens River. Perched on an outcropping of rock that sat north of the river was the Gray Observatory, part of the research complex known as the Ophiuchian Academy of Sciences. It was here that the greatest astronomical discoveries of the last century had been made, and it was here that the Ophiuchians had imprisoned Professor Dominic Newton.
Professor Newton studied a sheet of paper, a printout of the latest series of tests that had been run on an experimental alloy. The alloy had originally been developed by one of the teams at the Department of Advanced Studies back at the University of Earth. The first task the Ophiuchians had assigned Newton had been to recreate the team's work here in a heavily guarded laboratory within the Gray Observatory. Newton shook his head, crumpled the printout, and let it drop to the floor, where it joined several predecessors.
He couldn't concentrate on the work. Partly it was due to the stubborn streak within him that rebelled at the idea of aiding his captors, and partly it was due to the approach of the noon hour. For one hour of the 140 that made up the Ophiuchian week, his captors would allow him to enjoy the company of the only person in the entire Ophiuchius Group for whom he felt any affection.
Newton wandered over to a window set in the southern wall of his laboratory, and his face lit up. There, accompanied by the vile Marshal Darganto, was his young ward, Bobby Matthews. Both chanced to be looking up at the window, and Newton waved at Bobby. The boy's face broke into a smile and he waved back. He started to race to the observatory's front entrance, but Darganto seized him roughly by the arm and forced him to walk.
As the pair disappeared around the corner of the observatory, Newton frowned. The Ophiuchians had adopted many customs from the literally inhuman beings who had once occupied the 70 Ophiuchi system, and their method of raising children was one of them. The Old Ophiuchians hadn't had families in the human sense of the word, being more akin to social insects than to mammals, and their human successors had eliminated the institution from their own society. They looked down on the love that existed between Bobby and himself, and Newton feared that they would try to remake Bobby in their own inhuman image.
It wasn't long before Newton heard Darganto's heavy tread outside the guarded door of the laboratory. The door opened, revealing Darganto, Bobby, and the guard, whose name Newton had never learned.
"Bobby," Newton exclaimed, "it's good to see you," and he felt a combination of joy and relief as the boy rushed into his arms.
Darganto interrupted their reunion. He was a tall, dark-haired man with a thin mustache, and his black uniform glittered from the many medals and honors that decorated it. He spoke the professor's name as he retrieved one of the crumpled sheets of paper from the floor.
Reluctantly, Newton looked away from Bobby. "Yes?"
Darganto held up the paper. "The results of your experiment?"
Nervously, Newton said, "Oh, well, I haven't got them yet."
"Why not?" the uniformed man demanded. "You've had more than enough time."
"Yes, I know, but, er, activating chemicals and alloys, it's a long and tedious task. It's like trying to make a silk purse out of a sow's ear." And make of that simile what you can, Newton added to himself. "But don't worry, Darganto, I'm not one to give up."
"Professor Newton, you're using the same formula as on Earth?"
"Exactly. Oh, but tomorrow! Tomorrow I'll --"
"And the same materials, too!" Seemingly from nowhere, rage appeared on Darganto's face. With a violent sweep of his hand, he knocked Newton's experimental apparatus off the lab table. He seized Newton by the coat and hauled the smaller man up off the floor, snarling, "You upset me, Professor Newton, and I find you won't cooperate. You know what that means."
Newton knew. It meant losing Bobby, standing by helplessly as the boy was taken away to one of the Ophiuchians' nursery factories, to be fashioned into a member of the Ophiuchian worker-drone class. Inside of a year, there would be nothing left of his original personality; he would be nothing more than a mindless biological machine.
With horror, Newton saw Bobby run over and grab Darganto's arm, shouting, "Let go of him! Leave him alone!"
Releasing Newton, Darganto smashed his arm into Bobby's face, sending the boy reeling across the room to collide with a wall. "Bobby!" Newton exclaimed in alarm.
Darganto picked Newton up again, carried him across the laboratory, and thurst him into a chair. "Professor Newton," he said, his voice deceptively calm, "you've been granted an extraordinary privilege. Bobby has been near you, and allowed a weekly visit. Proudly I say my own son does not know my face, as Bobby will not long remember yours." He turned to face the guarded door. "Drapax!"
The guard entered. "Dovako Bobby demar danto bak," ordered Darganto in the harsh Ophiuchian tongue.
The guard, Drapax, bent down and effortlessly picked up the stunned boy. "No," Bobby managed to gasp out, "I won't go! Professor Newton!"
"Bobby!" Newton cried out, nearly in tears.
"Let me down!" Bobby managed to call out.
"Demar danto bak!" Darganto barked again.
"Darganto!" Newton pleaded.
"Yes, Professor Newton?" said the towering Ophiuchian.
Newton felt himself collapsing under the weight of his despair. "I pledge my complete cooperation."
"I thought you'd finally see it my way," said Darganto with a smirk.
At a gesture from the Marshal, the guard let Bobby fall to the floor. Bobby struggled to his feet, and threw himself into Newton's arms. As Darganto left, Newton saw Bobby glare in hatred at the Ophiuchian leader.
* * *
Twelve hours had passed since the Orbit Jet dropped out of superluminal drive on the doorstep of the Ophiuchius Formation. The good news, Antonio DelPonte thought, was that the Ophiuchians hadn't disintegrated them. The bad news was that they hadn't reacted at all. No Ophiuchian ships had come out to inspect them, and no Ophiuchian voice had come in over the astrophone. Spookland, DelPonte told himself.
He had joined Vena Ray back in B section. "Say, Vena, you're our resident expert on the Ophiuchians. What's the big idea? Why aren't they talking?"
Ray rested her chin on her hands as she considered the question. "Well, Winky, I think I understand what's going on. One thing to keep in mind about the Ophiuchians is that they hate surprises, and Rocky gave them a great big one by dropping the Orbit Jet into their laps. We're not attacking them, and we're not trying to hide. We're just sitting here out in plain sight. An attack they'd be prepared to deal with, and an attempt at evasion, too, but not this. They need to make up their minds about what to do about us, and with tensions so high between the two governments, they want to take their time about it. We probably represent a buck that's been passed all the way up the chain of command, maybe even to the Suzerain herself. Once they've worked out a plan for dealing with us, you can bet we'll be hearing from them, one way or the other."
"So, what do you think they'll decide to do?"
"It all depends on Cleolanthe."
"Queen Cleolanthe?"
"Officially, her title is Suzerain, which is how they translate the original Old Ophiuchian word for leader. They've adopted as much of the culture of the Old Ophiuchians as they can, including their matriarchal hereditary monarchy. For the Old Ophiuchians, that made a lot of sense, since they were apparently descended from insects with a hive mentality. But however much the Ophiuchians try to deny it, they're still human beings, and humans don't make very good hive insects. There's always a disconnect between the Old Ophiuchian culture they've adopted and their human biology, however much they try to paper over the cracks. So their ruler is a human woman who tries to act like the queen of a beehive or a termite mound. When it works well, the result resembles the court of Queen Elizabeth the First of England. When it works badly, it's more like the court of Mary Queen of Scots. Cleolanthe just succeeded to the Suzerainty a year and a half ago, and she's starting to look more like a Mary than an Elizabeth."
"So, is that good or bad for us?"
Ray shook her head. "Winky, I honestly don't know."
DelPonte was still turning Ray's words over in his mind when he joined Jones in the pilot room. "How's she going, Rock?"
Rocky indicated the communication controls. "Look, Winky."
The signal detector showed a steady pulse, one that DelPonte recognized. "Ah, the Ophiuchian beam's picked us up, huh? But still no challenge?"
"Not a word," said Jones with a frown. "I don't like it."
As he resumed the silent vigil in the pilot room, DelPonte said, "This is spookland for sure."
But it did not remain spookland for long. Within five minutes of belting himself into his seat, DelPonte was startled by the sudden crackle of the astrophone. There was the steady beeping of a carrier wave, and a male voice spoke in the harsh syllables of the Ophiuchian language: "Choko viktun sparkano, choko vik. Sparkano ono fian."
"Ah," DelPonte smiled, "that must be their challenge now."
Jones pressed the intercom to the B section. "Space Ranger Ray, forward please."
The hatch slid open, and Ray entered the pilot room. Jones told her, "Vena, translate incoming message."
The astrophone was still delivering its Ophiuchian message: "Choko viktun sparkano."
"It's a repeat to identify, and state destination," Ray reported. "Shall I answer in Ophiuchian, sir?"
"No, not yet. They'll know the universal distress signal, helipso. That's all I want them to know at the moment." DelPonte found himself nodding in agreement. There was no reason to let the Ophiuchians know that the Orbit Jet carried someone who could understand their language. It was better to let them think they had the advantage over the Earth ship.
Switching on the astrophone's transmitter, Jones said, "Helipso, helipso. Rocky Jones on the Earth ship XV-2, in distress. Helipso."
The repeated Ophiuchian challenge ended. In its place was a feminine voice speaking English. "Come in, XV-2, and declare nature of emergency."
Before Jones could respond, Ray put a warning hand on his shoulder. Jones cut out the astrophone transmitter. "What is it, Vena?"
"Rocky, I recognize that voice! That's not just some low-level astrophone operator you're talking to. That's Cleolanthe herself, the Suzerain of Ophiuchius!"
* * *
Eight main thoroughfares divide Ophiuchius City into eight wedge-shaped segments. The eight broad avenues all converge upon Darak Govornox, Government Square, a wide plaza paved with white granite blocks. At the center of Government Square rises the imposing bulk of Analka Vainda Govornox, Government Headquarters, the nerve center of the Ophiuchius Group. Not far from the colonnaded throne room is the building's main communication center. From here, the Suzerain herself could instantly communicate with any of her subjects within the Ophiuchius Group.
Cleolanthe, Suzerain of Ophiuchius, stood beside an astrophone station within the communications center and listened to the signals being transmitted from Guardian Station Blue, three light years distant in the depths of interstellar space. The signals carried the voice of Commander Rockwell Stapleton Jones IV of Earth's Space Rangers.
For weeks, ever since receiving a warning message from Marcus Griffin, Cleolanthe and her advisors had been expecting the arrival of Jones' ship, the Orbit Jet, as it carried out its pathetic attempt to rescue Professor Dominic Newton and Bobby Matthews. Orders had been issued to the Guardian Stations of the Ophiuchius Formation to keep watch for the Orbit Jet, and report back when it was observed.
Cleolanthe admired the boldness with which Commander Jones had made his appearance in the 70 Ophiuchi system. Cleolanthe had expected an attempt at stealth, but instead the Orbit Jet had appeared just ten million miles from Guardian Station Blue, and then sat motionless, as if daring the Ophiuchians to act against it. It was boldness that had given the Suzerain and her advisors pause, and for twelve hours they had mapped out the appropriate strategy for dealing with Jones' arrival.
"Helipso, helipso," had come the voice from the astrophone receiver. "Rocky Jones on the Earth ship XV-2, in distress. Helipso."
Cleolanthe motioned the astrophone operator from his seat, and took his place. Activating the transmitter switch, she answered in English, "Come in, XV-2, and declare nature of emergency."
There was a long pause before the answer came back: "Starboard control rocket's conked out. Request permission to land and repair."
As Griffin had warned, the Space Rangers had come to the 70 Ophiuchi system with a story of mechanical failure, and a request for assistance. This placed the Ophiuchians in a delicate position. By treaty with the United Worlds of the Solar System, no ship in distress could be refused assistance, even if it was found to be trespassing through the space claimed by a foreign power. There had been too many cases of disabled Ophiuchian ships calling upon the UWSS for assistance for the Ophiuchians to lightly abrogate that treaty provision. Still, it wouldn't hurt to remind the impetuous Space Ranger that his life lay in Cleolanthe's hands. "Do you know you've transgressed the Ophiuchian boundary?" she told him. "We could disintegrate you with no questions asked."
"My apologies, it was unavoidable," came back Jones' answer. "I now ask that you recognize Article VII of our treaty."
Marshal Darganto had joined Cleolanthe in the communications room. "Rocky Jones?" he asked quietly, and Cleolanthe nodded.
"May I speak to someone in authority?" the voice of Jones continued.
"I am Cleolanthe, the Suzerain of Ophiuchius," she declared. The thought of the shock Jones must be experiencing as he realized he was addressing the supreme ruler of the Ophiuchius Group filled her with joy. Let the Space Ranger know the stakes he was playing for. "Yes," she continued, "I will respect the treaty. You have my permission to land. Ellipse our planet. We will then assign approach path and clearance. Ventendo untol."
"Ventendo untol," Jones answered, and the signal from Guardian Station Blue cut off.
Cleolanthe smiled confidently at Darganto. "Fortunately," she said, "Griff prepared us for Rocky Jones' arrival. Now . . . to prepare Professor Newton and the boy."
* * *
Winky DelPonte was faintly surprised to hear Rocky Jones echo Queen Cleolanthe's Ophiuchian parting words.
"I guess that means 'Roger and out'," said DelPonte.
"You catch on fast, Winky," Ray said with an approving smile. "It does."
"Winky," said Jones, "go aft and knock out one of the starboard rockets. Do enough damage so we'll have at least a week to find Professor Newton and Bobby while you make repairs."
DelPonte winced, as much at the thought of deliberately damaging the Orbit Jet as it the prospect of a week's repairs. "Aw, Rocky, all that work! Couldn't we just pretend?"
"Orders are orders," Jones insisted. "We've got to stay there a week. Go on, now, beat it."
DelPonte unbelted from his seat and beat it. Of all the assignments he had been given in his career as a Space Ranger, smashing up his own ship was hands down the most bizarre.
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