She—”
Bumberpuff stamped a metallic foot down hard on the gnarled floor.
“ Please , Rosalind! We have work to do.”
“Fine,” she said. “As long as it makes you happy. I’ve got a course locked in for the Rewall Association’s fifth quintant, and I’m ready to punch.”
Quentin shook his head. “Rewall Association? What are you talking about? Take us to the Portath Cloud, not Rewall space.”
“Without the Rewall, that’s a six-day trip,” Rosalind said.
A galactic map appeared in the middle of the room.
Quentin saw a planet labeled Gateway , which was close to where Frederico had sent the Hypatia’s last message. Quentin had read up on Gateway during the trip. A dead world in the Planetary Union, it had small settlements supporting the mining industry. It was also right on the edge of Portath territory, making it the main punch-point into the Cloud.
A glowing line appeared, bouncing from one planet to the next, outlining the standard shipping lanes that led from Rosalind’s current position to Gateway: Mason to Solomon, then New Earth, New Whitok, Capizzi, Whirod, Thomas 3, then, finally, Gateway. Not only would the trip take six days, Rosalind would have to travel through the Purist Nation, the Planetary Union, the Whitok Kingdom and the Harrah Tribal Accord, systems that — were she detected — would be none too accepting of a Prawatt vessel. And, of course, during that whole voyage, Creterakian warships or various system police forces could appear at any time.
“Bumberpuff, I assumed you had something else planned,” Quentin said. His jaw clenched, as did the muscles in his neck and shoulders. “We don’t have six days to waste.”
“Oh, relax , bubbie,” said the walls. “We know you want to get there fast, that’s why we need the Rewall.”
Edgeward on the map, an irregular green shape glowed brighter.
“That’s the Rewall Association’s fourth quintant,” Rosalind said. Around the outer edges of the galaxy, another four green shapes glowed. “These are the Association’s other quintants. The Rewall don’t have a continuous territory like the other governments. Theirs is broken up in isolated islands, because they have the best punch technology of any race. They can punch from one quintant to another without having to stop at every punch-point in-between. Any non-Rewall ship traveling from quintant one —” a green shape on the galaxy’s edge, just outside Creterakian territory, flashed briefly “—to quintant five—” on the other side of the Milky Way, the green shape nearest the Purist Nation glowed “—that’s a trip of eleven standard days. A Rewall ship makes the same trip in a single day, with a single punch. So, our fastest way into the Portath Cloud is to go to quintant five and bum a ride to the last known coordinates of your sister’s ship.”
Kimberlin walked to the map. The rest of Quentin’s friends remained in the entryway, watching.
The lineman crossed his arms and shook his head.
“This plan is no good,” he said. “The Rewall are only slightly more understood than the Portath. We’re going to use one mostly unknown race to enter the territory of a completely unknown one? Who came up with this ridiculous plan?”
Bumberpuff bristled. “The Rewall are not mostly unknown to the Prawatt. We have far more knowledge of that race than do the other species.”
Kimberlin turned to face him. “How did your kind acquire that knowledge?”
“Their second quintant is in the middle of our sovereign space,” the captain said. “We had a small territorial dispute.”
“A territorial dispute ,” Quentin echoed. “You mean a war?
The walls sighed. “Tomato, tomahto.”
Quentin rolled his eyes. “Is there anyone the Prawatt haven’t had a war with? And what the hell does bum a ride mean, anyway?”
Rosalind said nothing.
Quentin stared at Bumberpuff. “Well? Let’s hear it.”
The X-Walker rose up to his full two-legged height. If
Bumberpuff stamped a metallic foot down hard on the gnarled floor.
“ Please , Rosalind! We have work to do.”
“Fine,” she said. “As long as it makes you happy. I’ve got a course locked in for the Rewall Association’s fifth quintant, and I’m ready to punch.”
Quentin shook his head. “Rewall Association? What are you talking about? Take us to the Portath Cloud, not Rewall space.”
“Without the Rewall, that’s a six-day trip,” Rosalind said.
A galactic map appeared in the middle of the room.
Quentin saw a planet labeled Gateway , which was close to where Frederico had sent the Hypatia’s last message. Quentin had read up on Gateway during the trip. A dead world in the Planetary Union, it had small settlements supporting the mining industry. It was also right on the edge of Portath territory, making it the main punch-point into the Cloud.
A glowing line appeared, bouncing from one planet to the next, outlining the standard shipping lanes that led from Rosalind’s current position to Gateway: Mason to Solomon, then New Earth, New Whitok, Capizzi, Whirod, Thomas 3, then, finally, Gateway. Not only would the trip take six days, Rosalind would have to travel through the Purist Nation, the Planetary Union, the Whitok Kingdom and the Harrah Tribal Accord, systems that — were she detected — would be none too accepting of a Prawatt vessel. And, of course, during that whole voyage, Creterakian warships or various system police forces could appear at any time.
“Bumberpuff, I assumed you had something else planned,” Quentin said. His jaw clenched, as did the muscles in his neck and shoulders. “We don’t have six days to waste.”
“Oh, relax , bubbie,” said the walls. “We know you want to get there fast, that’s why we need the Rewall.”
Edgeward on the map, an irregular green shape glowed brighter.
“That’s the Rewall Association’s fourth quintant,” Rosalind said. Around the outer edges of the galaxy, another four green shapes glowed. “These are the Association’s other quintants. The Rewall don’t have a continuous territory like the other governments. Theirs is broken up in isolated islands, because they have the best punch technology of any race. They can punch from one quintant to another without having to stop at every punch-point in-between. Any non-Rewall ship traveling from quintant one —” a green shape on the galaxy’s edge, just outside Creterakian territory, flashed briefly “—to quintant five—” on the other side of the Milky Way, the green shape nearest the Purist Nation glowed “—that’s a trip of eleven standard days. A Rewall ship makes the same trip in a single day, with a single punch. So, our fastest way into the Portath Cloud is to go to quintant five and bum a ride to the last known coordinates of your sister’s ship.”
Kimberlin walked to the map. The rest of Quentin’s friends remained in the entryway, watching.
The lineman crossed his arms and shook his head.
“This plan is no good,” he said. “The Rewall are only slightly more understood than the Portath. We’re going to use one mostly unknown race to enter the territory of a completely unknown one? Who came up with this ridiculous plan?”
Bumberpuff bristled. “The Rewall are not mostly unknown to the Prawatt. We have far more knowledge of that race than do the other species.”
Kimberlin turned to face him. “How did your kind acquire that knowledge?”
“Their second quintant is in the middle of our sovereign space,” the captain said. “We had a small territorial dispute.”
“A territorial dispute ,” Quentin echoed. “You mean a war?
The walls sighed. “Tomato, tomahto.”
Quentin rolled his eyes. “Is there anyone the Prawatt haven’t had a war with? And what the hell does bum a ride mean, anyway?”
Rosalind said nothing.
Quentin stared at Bumberpuff. “Well? Let’s hear it.”
The X-Walker rose up to his full two-legged height. If
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