For Love and Glory by Poul Anderson. Chapter 18, 19, 20, 21, 22, 23, 24, 25

Twenty-eight seconds before response. If Ironbright hadn’t hesitated, his(?) craft was four million-plus kilometers away. “Your presence is inadmissable. This region is closed. Remove yourselves.”

[125] Lissa bent over the intercom control and pushed for Orichalc’s cubicle. “We are not aware of any such interdiction,” Valen was saying. “By what right do you declare it? It seems to be in violation both of treaty agreements and general custom.”

“Orichalc,” Lissa whispered. “They’re on to us. At least one ship. They command we turn back. Listen in, and tell us what you think.”

“S-s-s,” the fugitive breathed.

“The Dominance of the Great Confederacy has taken sovereignty,” Ironbright said. “Under its policy and in its name, I order you to return to clear space immediately and hyperjump hence. Else you are subject to detention and penalties. I warn you, we have weapons. If necessary, we will use them, with regret but without hesitation.”

“I should hope no civilized being would make a threat like that, without even having discussed the matter first,” Valen answered. “Certainly we require more authority than yours. What are your reasons for this demand?”

“He bluffs, I believe,” Orichalc murmured. Given his instinctive sensitivities to his own species, yes, he’d be able to hear that Ironbright, too, was currently in male phase. Valen also leaned close to hear, flank to flank with Lissa. She laid an arm around his waist. “Tell him that the Houses of Asborg would have known if any such claim were registered under the Covenant of Space.”

She noticed the time lag had grown. Dagmar was outrunning Amethyst, if “run” made sense when you spoke of coordinates, vectors, fields, and their derivatives in three-space. Evidently Ironbright thought that switching over to hypertransmission would be more trouble than it was worth. Or did he welcome these moments, to consider what to say? “The Dominance is concerned about safety.” Was he trying to wheedle? “A cosmic cataclysm will soon take place. You are not prepared for it.”

Valen straightened and grinned. “Oh, but we are. That’s why we’re here.” He went on as Orichalc had advised, finishing with: “Since no claim has been assented to, we have as much right as [126] anybody. They know on Asborg where we are, and that you are here. I don’t imagine your colleagues want an interstellar incident.”

Dismay and rage hissed under the incongruous mellowness of Dagmar’s translating voice. “How do you know? What spies have you set on our sacred Nestmother?”

“To the best of my knowledge, none. And I wouldn’t call the concealment of a scientific treasure trove a friendly act. Nor do I suppose other spacefaring societies, including the other Susaian nations, will so regard it. I repeat, we mean no harm or interference. We hope your chief of operations will contact us when your officers have conferred and decided on a proposal intended to be mutually satisfactory. I respectfully suggest, and ask you to convey the suggestion, that they start thinking at once.”

“Good,” oozed from Orichalc’s cubicle. “Firmness and correctness, after Ironbright faltered in both. The grand commander should well evaluate the playback of this conversation.”

“Signing off, then,” the Susaian captain grimly. “You shall receive more soon.” Lissa heard an abrupt absence of background sounds she had not noticed before.

“You did it! Whee, you did!” She leaped at Valen, threw her arms around his neck, kicked heels in air. “I love you!”

“We’ve just begun, and God knows what’ll happen next.” She let go and he activated the general intercom. “Attention. Urgent news.”

“We’re busy, for Founder’s sake!” Esker exclaimed, obviously from the main lab.

“Too busy for the Susaians?”

“Huh? Oh. Carry on, you,” to the assistants. “A minute. … All right. Tell me.”

Valen did. “We’re leaving them behind, you say,” the physicist answered. “They’re doubtless unarmed anyway.”

“Unless that fellow was lying, they do have some combat-worthy units. And messages must be flying from end to end of their fleet.”

“The farther in we go,” Dagmar reminded, “the smaller the [127] volume of ambient space and therefore the more difficult evasion becomes. It is certainly incompatible with keeping station.”

“I’ll bet you’re better armed than anything they’ve got here,” Esker said. “Stand up to the stinking lizards. Make them crawl.”

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