Starplex

He’d be on Grand Central for perhaps eight hours, long enough to report to Premier Petra Kenyatta about the attack on Starplex. Then he’d pop back here. Hopefully by that time, Jag and Longbottle would have news about the other big problem they were facing.

The pod’s maneuvering thrusters fired in a complex pattern. To exit the network back at Tau Ceti, he’d have to enter the local shortcut from above and behind. The stars moved as the pod modified its course to the proper angle, and then—

—and then it touched the point. Through the transparent hull, Keith saw the fiery purple discontinuity between the two sectors of space pass over the pod, mismatched star-fields fore and aft. To the rear, the eerie green light of the region he was leaving, and up ahead, pink nebulosity—

Nebulosity? That can’t be right. Not at Tau Ceti.

But as the pod completed its passage, there could be no doubt: he’d come out at the wrong place. A beautiful rose-colored nebula, like a splayed six-fingered hand, covered four degrees of sky. Keith wheeled around, looking out in all directions. He knew well the constellations visible from Tau Ceti—slightly skewed versions of the same ones seen from Earth, including Boötes, which contained bright Arcturus and Sol itself. But these were unfamiliar stars.

Keith felt adrenaline pumping. New sectors of space were being opened at a great rate, as new exits became valid choices on the shortcut network. Clearly, this was a shortcut that had only just come on-line, making more narrow the acceptable angles of approach to reach Tau Ceti.

No need to panic, thought Keith. He could get to his intended destination easily enough. He’d just have to reenter the shortcut on a slightly different path, making sure he didn’t vary at all from the mathematical center of the cone of acceptable angles for Grand Central Station.

Still—another new sector. That made five in the last year. God, he thought, it was too bad they’d had to cannibalize half of Starplex’s planned sister ship for parts; they could use another exploration mothership immediately if things kept on like this.

Keith checked his flight recorder, making sure he’d be able to return to this place. The instruments seemed to be operating perfectly. His first instinct was to explore, discovering whatever this new sector had to offer, but a travel pod was designed only for quick journeys through shortcuts. Besides, Keith had a meeting to get to and—he glanced at his watch implant—only forty-five minutes before it would begin. He looked down at his control panel and keyed in instructions for another pass through the shortcut network. He then checked the settings that had brought him here—and frowned. Why, he had come through at precisely the right angle for Tau Ceti.

He’d never heard of a shortcut transfer going wrong before, but…

When he looked up, the starship was there.

It was shaped like a dragon, with a long, serpentine central hull and vast swept-back extensions that looked like wings. The entire thing consisted of curves and smooth edges, and there was no detailing on its robin’s-egg-blue surface, no sign of seams or windows or vents, no obvious engines. The whole thing must have been glowing, since there were no stars nearby to illuminate it, and no shadows fell across any part of its surface. Keith had thought Starplex beautiful before its recent battle scars, but it had still always seemed manufactured and functional. This alien ship, though, was art.

The dragon ship was moving directly toward Keith’s pod. The readout on his console said it was almost a kilometer long. Keith grabbed the pod’s joystick, wanting to get out of the approaching ship’s path, but suddenly the dragon came to a dead stop relative to the pod, fifty meters ahead.

Keith’s heart was pounding. Whenever a new shortcut came on-line, Starplex’s first job was to look for any signs of whatever intelligence had activated the shortcut by passing through it for the first time. But here, in a one-person travel pod, he lacked the signaling equipment and computing power needed to even attempt communications.

Besides, there had been no sign of the ship when he’d surveyed the sky moments ago. Any vessel that could move that quickly then stop dead in space had to be the product of very advanced technology. Keith was in over his head. He needed if not all of Starplex, at least one of the diplomatic craft it carried in its docking bays. He tapped the key that should have started his pod back toward the shortcut.