rom the remains of the broken
Gate, so that now it lay ahead of them and far to the left. The
out-ships as well, low on fuel and tentative, spread outward so that
two almost parallel walls were formed, filled with eyes. The would-be
combatants faced each other across the margin that they themselves
created: the empty distance of war's chasm, that unholy no-man's land
wherein, once entered, frightened men kill frightened men until one
side has had enough.

"Shall I try to contact them?" asked the young com officer pitifully.
But at that moment the Russians started forward.

But at that moment something else occurred as well. A patch of silvery
sheen became visible at a distance to the Commonwealth right, almost at
a direct line between the armies from the broken and still
dark-smoldering gate upon their left. The advancing Soviet forces came
to a halt, confused. But Hayes became suddenly calm, and a vengeful
smile played about the corners of his mouth. But he must play this new
card correctly.

"What is it?" asked a voice. And even as the words were spoken a
fourth Goliath appeared, for an instant gleaming white, then graying
once more as it passed through the pierced screen of silver. Hayes was
not the only one with a star gate. The American Seventh Fleet,
entombed within the carrier Eisenhower, was at hand.

Quickly taking stock of the situation, Commanding Admiral Robeson moved
to join the re-heartened Third, attempted to make contact with both
parties, and reluctantly, since he did not know how things would turn,
began to discharge and align his own forces. The parallel planes still
existed, only now they were closer and more equal, a colossal gathering
of some fourteen hundred ships, prepared for a confrontation that even
the mythic battles of the Bhagavad-Gita could not match.

And this was no fable of gods and clouds and chariots, decrying the
illusions of the physical world, but hard and deadly reality. And if
the two sides of fire-breathing metal, like ghastly cymbals of Death,
were brought together with a crash, the awful sound would shatter the
uneasy stillness and continue to be heard, would ripple far, far in all
directions, and the peace that good men prayed for would be lost.
Hayes would have his Great War, after all.

"General Hayes," said the Dreadnought com officer. "Admiral Robeson is
requesting to speak with Admiral Frank."

"Cut him off," was Hayes' dispassionate reply.

"WHAT?