he voice and com-screen of the Icarus were otherwise
engaged. Its outgoing signal, however, was neither coded, nor directed
toward the Soviet battleship only. The whole of both fleets were free
to listen, and to judge.

Brunner stood in the sunken middle of the flying bridge---his wife
stood beside him---gazing with surprising composure into the angry
features on the screen before him: Colonel Joyce, the man with the
power to end his life.

"Colonel. Thank you for speaking with me. I don't believe you've met
my---" The voice that cut him off was cold and cruel.

"What the hell do you think you're doing, Brunner?"

"I am experiencing difficulty with my ship's retreat mechanism: she
doesn't seem to be able to leave the colonies just yet."

"And how long do you think that will last?" A threat more than a
question. The two understood one another perfectly.

"I'd say, roughly of course, about forty-eight hours. Just about the
time the Dutch return to---"

"Now listen to me, you pathetic little worm. If you don't get out of
the way, and I mean RIGHT now, I'll blow you and your little band of
heroes to bloody shrapnel. Don't think I won't!"

Brunner's voice shook with subdued passion, but not fear.

"I don't think you won't. I know it. Because to do that you'd have to
brutally attack, and murder your own allies. And have to explain to
the Coalition, the Japanese, and everybody else, how you had no choice
but to desecrate our victory, and steal the home planets---" Joyce
tried to interrupt, but he would not let him. "And it's NOT going to
happen." Again the other tried--- "You want me? Then come and TAKE
me!"

"I'll give you thirty seconds." Joyce turned to his gunnery officer,
who nodded his understanding. "Starting now."

Brunner waited till the count was down to six. His voice was the ice
of Infinity.

"Get the fuck out of here."

"BRUNNER!" A single shot was fired, impacting upon, and with a round
and outward glow lighting up the forward shields of the Icarus. In the
ensuing concussion his wife was thrown down with a start, and small
fires broke out on the bridge.

This was too much for Liebenstein. He started to send a signal to
Joyce, but saw that the human miracle was taking place without him.
Where before there had been ten destroyers in the breach, now there
were fourteen, one so badly damaged that it could barely thread its way
through the staggered ranks of the Soviets.