"Distance to the Potemkin, now just five megameters!" cried Nova from the Argo's Analysis station on the first bridge. "They're firing missiles!"

"Starboard pulse lasers, open fire!" barked Wildstar. Two of the missiles exploded near the Argo's stern, but the ship's powerful pulse laser battery got the rest of them.

Then, fire roared in from the Potemkin's main guns as the ship turned to face the Argo broadside. The Argo took three more hits....one near the stern, and two to the starboard side.

"Starboard catapult hit!" barked Sandor. "Starboard keel observation post near bridge number three hit!"

"Forty-five to port, Venture," said Wildstar. "Dash, fire bow missiles!"

"Firing bow missiles," said Dash as more fire roared in from the Potemkin. However, they had missed.

The Argo's missiles streaked off and hit the stern of the Potemkin. "We got their aft main gun turret!" cried Nova. "The ship's slowing down and changing course."

"Venture, back around, sixty degrees. Line us up for a broadside."

"Sixty degrees...starboard," said Venture. The Argo majestically turned, leaving a trail of smoke and flame across the darkness of space.

"A message has just come in...it's from the Gamilons!" said Homer.

"What's the message about?" demanded Captain Wildstar.

"Sir," said Homer as he looked at the tape. "They're warning us to look out for the Potemkin. It seems that she and the R'Khells attacked their advance picket fleet a few hours ago. It seems they just discovered who was behind the attack."

"We sure could've used that warning a bit earlier than this," said Wildstar. "But, anyway, thanks, Desslok," he said with a grim smile.

"We're now facing the Potemkin broadside and all of our guns are aimed at her." said Dash. "Should we open fire?"

Derek reached for his firing pickle. "No time like the present. All guns, open fire!"

The Potemkin fired again, but all of the energy beams missed. At the same time, the Argo fired a withering broadside at the Potemkin from all three of her main turrets and her two auxiliary turrets. The bolts of energy roared across space and impacted cruelly against the enemy ship's hull. The rogue Earth ship's remaining forward main guns were silenced as the two forward turrets were methodically blown to bits. Hits followed on the ship's communications antenna, radar array, and lower bridge tower. Finally, the starboard side gun emplacements located below the bridge tower were blown into junk by a surge of energy from the Argo that ripped down the Potemkin's hull like a hot knife.

The battleship slowly turned and then stopped. It just sat there smoking as the Argo blew apart two of the escorting R'Khell submarines. Another sub fired its torpedoes at the Argo but the torpedo spread was stopped dead by a pulse laser array as the Star Force continued to successfully defend its ship. A moment later, the sub that had fired at the Argo submerged in a glimmer of light and vanished.

"Nova, watch for a shadow from that sub...it's probably lurking around," said Derek.

"Roger."

"Sandor, I think we got her communications antenna, didn't we?"

"Looks like it," said Sandor as he compared an image of the ship to an engineering graphic of the class he had pulled up from the Argo's computers. "She also took some light damage earlier...probably from the Gamilons defending themselves. From what I can see, our hits did the most damage...she's very heavily damaged. It looks like one gun on her aft turret might still be able to fire, though. She's got that, her port side broadside guns, and most of her missiles. It also looks like some of her maneuvering thrusters may be out."

"Then how do I communicate with them to request their surrender?" mused Derek. "There's innocent people on that ship that the cultists captured, according to what Captain Josiah told us. I can't kill the innocent along with the guilty."

"Wildstar, they've still got their long-range laser communication units," said Sandor. "We'll have to do it by signal lights."

"Got it. Homer, send them this message. Potemkin, your attack was unsuccessful. We've incurred only minor damage. Surrender and prepare to be boarded before we are forced to destroy you. Signed, Derek Wildstar, Captain, Earth Federation Space Battleship Argo and Commander of the Star Force."

"Yessir," said Homer. His hands began to fly over his keys.

A klaxon blew manically on the smoke-filled First Bridge of the Potemkin as Yvona Josiah struggled to her feet. Her face was bloody, and she was covered with soot and dirt. Fires burned here and there on the ship's ruined bridge as circuits burned out and stopped functioning forever.

"Who's left alive?" demanded Yvona. "Huh? Who's left?" She coughed, remembering that in spite of her metamorphosis, she was still mortal. Unable to see much in the fog, she looked at a reflection of her face in a nearby darkened computer screen. "Damn...my hair is white again! I'm losing my beauty! I'm losing my beauty! I'm turning back into a damned crone again!"

"I'm alive, you idiot," coughed Ray Haverford as he stood up at the helm. "Noah's alive at the Mechanical/Science post. Joshua's alive at the Combat post. Cornelius at Artillery is dead. Jared is getting up. Caleb's dead, and Naomi and her baby are dead. We have nobody at radar, now. Not that it even works."

"Jezebel, are you still alive?" demanded Yvona as she turned to Communications.

"Wounded," gasped the redheaded young woman who sat there in sackcloth and sandals. "I'm bleeding all over the place, Prophetess...and I'm scared!" she screamed. "I never knew being in your church would be like this! Are you crazy?" she sobbed.

"Shut up, you brainless idiot!" snapped Yvona. She punctuated her point by viciously slapping the wounded woman.

"But, Naomi's dead, Yvona! So's her baby, Esther! Look!"

"So. People die in war, girl-child! This is a holy war. Twelve of us on the Navigation Bridge are dead. All their souls have gone right to Paradise!"

"We're going right to hell unless we move this ship," snapped Haverford.

"Why are you ordering me around?" demanded Yvona.

"Because I know what the hell I'm doing!" yelled Haverford. "What were you doing on Earth all those days? Following some crazy dream of yours? And don't you know these miracles are alien tricks?"

"Blasphemer!" yelled Yvona. "Lord, strike him down!"

Yvona felt the power a moment later. She smiled as lightning roared out of her fingers and hit Haverford. The man died screaming a moment later.

Smiling with satisfaction, Yvona kicked his carbonized corpse to the deck and took the helm herself. "Any other arguments?"

"Prophetess," said Jezebel meekly.

"Oh? Do you want to die, too?'

"No, the Argo's sending some laser signal...I can't make it out..."

"My power source is running out," said the blue, squat robot sitting at Analysis. "I am a Tenth Class, a hyper-genius. I, IQ-10, will analyze the message. It is a laser burst..."

"Read it off, you tin can," snorted Yvona.

"It reads as follows: Potemkin, your attack was unsuccessful. We've incurred only minor damage. Surrender and prepare to be boarded before we are forced to destroy you. Signed, Derek Wildstar, Captain, Earth Federation Space Battleship Argo and Commander of the Star Force. What should we do?" asked IQ-10 while lights flashed in his blue-trimmed dome that looked both like and unlike the older IQ-9's dome.

"Tin can, you and Jezebel send back the following. "Go to hell, Wildstar. I'm sending a final attack that will kill you all. Then, Jared, give me power. I'm crash-warping out of here..."

"Ma'am, that's dangerous," said Noah. Yvona just glared at him. "But...I'll try routing the power so we can do it. What course are you calculating?"

"The course that's in there," said Yvona as she turned a knob. "I'm heading back to the solar system...towards Earth. Joshua, fire one last spread of torpedoes. IQ-10...signal the remaining submarine with the sonar comm unit they installed...tell them to follow us."

"Aye aye, ma'am," said IQ-10 as he and Jezebel worked.

"Oh...I am going to do one last thing before we head back towards the solar system. Let me do the following with the ship..."

"We're receiving another message from the Potemkin!" said Homer. "They're communicating with signal lasers...it'll take a moment to interpret this."

"What are they saying?" asked Wildstar.

"They're saying: ' Go to hell, Wildstar. I'm sending a final attack that will kill you all.' Message ends."

Nova sighed. "Derek, you gave them a chance to surrender...looks like they don't want to take it."

"Then I'll have no choice but to finish them off," said Derek.

"Those poor crewmembers caught up in this by those fanatics," said Nova. "Well, looks like I'll never get my pink romper back, either. I wonder how she got at my clothes?"

"One of your things is on that ship?" asked Venture.

"Yes...Yvona's wearing my clothes under that Captain's jacket of hers. That jacket...it looks a lot like the kind Uncle Hiram wears. I hope he's all right."

"What are they doing, Nova?" asked Derek.

"Turning about, gaining speed...."

"Prepare all main guns...target, Potemkin," said Derek as the gun turrets swung around again and the guns began to lock. "One final barrage should finish them..."

"They're gaining speed," cried Nova. "Twenty-seven space knots...twenty-eight...twenty-nine.... Distance...now two megameters...one point eight megameters...one point five....and...they're heading right for the bridge tower!

"What?" said a surprised Derek.

"Wildstar, they're trying to ram us!" said Venture. "Bow downwards...thirty degrees..."

The Argo tilted downwards, trying to escape as the badly damaged Potemkin roared in, obviously trying to ram the Argo.

"Reset main turrets," barked Wildstar. "Lock on approaching target, Dash!"

"Locked on!"

"Fire!" cried Derek.

The Argo's guns went off, but the Potemkin evaded all of the energy beams except one, which blew off the large stabilizer fin that hung from her keel.

Venture tilted the Argo again as the Potemkin roared in. A moment later, the Star Force felt a jarring impact. The huge battleship's lower bow slammed directly into the Argo's third aft gun turret, tearing it to scrap metal and brutally killing most of the gun crew inside. With a loud grinding noise and tons of sparks flying all over the place, the two ships ended up attached together for a moment by all of the debris. A second later, the Potemkin's momentum caused her to rip free and roar away, leaving her anti-gravity compensator units behind to smash into the Argo's main communications antenna mast, tearing it to pieces.

The near-wrecked Potemkin, no one on the Argo knew how, blasted away from the Argo and headed off the older space battleship's starboard side. A moment later, just half a megameter away, the Potemkin warped away in a burst of crazed, multi-colored light, along with the rest of the submarines, leaving a very stunned and angry Star Force sitting aboard a ship that was smoking heavily from the stern and torn and rent in several places.

"I couldn't even get a final shot in at those maniacs!" yelled Dash. "Damnit!" he cried as he banged his panel with a fist.

"It's okay, Dash," said a stunned Wildstar. "A suicide run...just like the Gamilon battleship used against us in the Minerva asteroid belt a few years back when we were on our way to Iscandar. I knew they were crazy...but not that crazy."

"You can never predict the actions of a fanatic, Wildstar," said Sandor. "They apparently care nothing for life as we do. And, thanks to them, the ship is heavily damaged."

"I know," said Derek. "Sandor...do you think they could have survived that warp? They were badly damaged, too."

"It's hard to tell," said Sandor. "There's a fifty-fifty chance they didn't even survive entry into the Fourth Dimension. I don't know if we'll be seeing them again or not."

"Nova, is the area around us clear?" asked Derek.

Nova just nodded. "There's nothing around us now but wreckage and silence." She threw herself back in the chair with a sigh. "The battle's over."

"Parsons?" asked Wildstar. "Scan the area to make sure they didn't leave mines behind."

"Roger," said Holly. She ran a tactical radar scan. "We're clear...nothing that could check out as mines."

"All right," said Derek. He spoke into the intership microphone at his post. "All hands...the battle is over. Stand down the alert. Conroy, take off with a squadron and re-establish a perimeter BARCAP around us. Keep an eye out for them in case they come back."

"Got it," said an exhausted-sounding Conroy from the lower fighter bay.

Nova got up and stretched. "Where are you going?" asked Derek.

"I'll have to go up to our cabin and get a Medical uniform. Dr. Sane will need me to assist with wounded being brought in from the aft portion of the ship."

"Right...I'll meet you in our cabin in a moment. Sandor, can we get started on those repairs?"

"Our first priority will be getting the radar back, then communications," said Sandor. "After that...I'll see what we can do with that aft main turret. It's probably going to take several days to get it rebuilt."

"Yeah...and I've got to check out Navigation," said Venture as he got up.

"Yeah...good luck," sighed Derek as he got up. I feel like I've got a wedgie from hell inside my pants...but why? thought Wildstar to himself. Wildstar grabbed up his peacoat and scarf. "Dash, you're in command. Sorry I had to borrow your seat."

"That's all right," said Dash.

"Derek, one of us had better check on Paul and Aliscea," said Nova as she stood near the Astro-Compass.

"Nova...maybe you can do it on the way to Sickbay," suggested Wildstar.

"Yeah...guess that'll work..."

Both of them left the bridge in conversation a moment later, followed by Venture.

"Well, what do you think, Homer?" asked Dash.

"About what?"

"About our lovebirds? They sure looked...worse for wear when they got on the bridge at the start of the battle. Wonder what they were up to?"

"With that look on Nova's face...I've got a thousand guesses, Dash...none of them quite fit for public discussion."

"Then why are you guys discussing it on the bridge?" asked Orion. "There are some things about what a man and a woman do together that are best left private..."

"And why's that?" said Homer. "Nova's damn cute."

"Homer, she's married to th' Captain," protested Orion. "For the love of God, let them have their privacy?"

"What privacy? They're on a ship with us," smirked Dash.

"Oh, you two...just wait until ye have steady girlfriends. Then, dollars to donuts...you'll both be singin' a different tune," said Orion.

 Nova and Derek had just arrived back in their quarters. "I feel weird," said Captain Wildstar.

"Why's that?" asked Nova as she began undoing her uniform.

"I must have pulled my things on wrong before...I feel so uncomfortable."

"Oh...really?" asked Nova as she threw one of her Medical minidresses over the door of her locker. "Could you elaborate on that...I...?" Then, Nova pulled the upper half of her jumpsuit down, followed by the lower half. "Oh, dear...this is weird."

"What's weird?"

"Derek...we must have gotten very confused before. I'm...I'm wearing your boxer shorts."

"What?" said Derek as he looked at his wife. Sure enough, Nova was standing there in her bra and Captain Wildstar's skivvies. "Oh, great," he said. He slowly opened his pants and let them slide down.

Nova's mouth fell open, and then she broke out in a helpless stream of giggles.

"Nova, why are you laughing so hard?" chuckled Wildstar.

"Derek...you look adorable in pink! Maybe we should get our things mixed up more often!" she cried, leaning against her husband, who was wearing his open Star Force shirt and her panties. "This is so funny!" she chortled. "Excuse me!"

"Nova, what are you doing...? Nova...?"

"Smile!" she sang as she whipped out Derek's camera and took a picture of her husband in his mixed-up attire.

"I'm going to lose it soon," giggled Wildstar as he looked at the picture. "Nova, I swear...I'm going to kill you..."

Then, he just gave up and fell on the deck beside his wife. They embraced, both of them laughing their heads off until tears ran down their cheeks.

"We can't let this happen again," chuckled Derek.

"Why?"

"Nova, I've got a wedgie from hell in your underwear!"

Both of them laughed even harder, finally gaining some sense of sobriety about a minute later.

"Let me guess, another one for our photo album, right?" said Derek.

"Right. It goes right near the one where I slapped you," Nova replied.

"Yeah...that brings back memories," said Derek as he began to peel off his underwear....or hers...

"No...let me do it," said Nova. She did it slowly; Derek followed up by pulling his boxers off his wife. Both of them fell into each other's arms and kissed for a bit, until Nova realized. "Oh...Dr. Sane needs me. That's why I was getting changed in the first place."

"Yeah," sighed Derek. "Duty calls...again."

"I know," said Nova as she began to dress properly. "Honey...you need a cold shower..."

"So do you," said Derek.

Nova blushed. "I think being in Sickbay and helping treat our wounded will do it for me, thanks."

"Yeah," said Derek. As reality kicked back in, his need for a cold shower suddenly disappeared. "I'd...better get dressed again. In...my things."

"I'd hope so," said Nova while zipping up her Medical dress. "I'd hate to see you raiding my locker..."

I'll never live this one down, thought Derek. "Yeah. And don't forget your socks this time."

"Oh, I won't..." said Nova.

Later on, in Sickbay, Ensign Dale Packard, who had been on the bridge earlier this shift, was lying on an operating table; his body was horribly mangled. He had gone to his combat station in the third gun turret and was the only man pulled out of that mess alive.

"Now, let's begin the internal cut right here with the laser knife," said Doctor Sane.

"Stop it," he moaned from inside the oxygen mask he wore. "Stop it. I can feel that, you Goddamned butchers! Why'd you have to cut me open when I was awake?"

"We didn't know you were awake, Ensign," said Natalie Fisher, one of the two nurses assisting Dr. Sane.

"Doctor, he needs more anesthesia," said Nova Wildstar, the other nurse. Because the other doctors were busy with other patients, she was also acting as the anesthesiologist for this operation as well as Sane's head nurse.

"We can't risk it," said Sane. "His heart rate's all over the place."

"But, Doctor, we can't operate on him while he's conscious."

"I'm gonna kill you people if you don't put me out," growled Packard.

"Nova, twenty more on the feeder...That's all we can give him..."

"Right," said Nova as she turned to the rebreather unit. As she began to work, Packard's bloody hand clutched her gloved wrist. She tried to shake him off, but he was too strong. With his other hand, he slapped her stomach, leaving a bloody handprint on her dress. His hands went limp a moment later as the gas took hold. Sane and Wildstar then pushed him back into position and added another restraining strap, after readjusting the drapes around his stomach, where they were trying to repair his digestive system.

"Easier to work on them when they're not kicking," said Fisher.

"Or grabbing at you," added Wildstar. "Doctor, the oxygen/gas mix is stable now. His pulse rate is slowing and steadying."

"Good move, Nova," said Sane. "I wonder what Doctor Bradford's doing?"

"I saw her with another patient from the auxiliary turret," said Nova.

"Guy's mangled worse than this one," said Natalie. "Probably ain't gonna make it."

"I'm not so sure he'll make it, either," mumbled Sane. "There goes the laser...getting the last few muscles and his peritoneum open..."

"Good thing he isn't twitching now, or we'd have his innards all over the place," said Fisher.

"Ready with the retractor," said Nova.

"Lock her in. I can see right where that splinter went in now."

"Me too," said Nova. "Good thing it didn't go deeper. Getting hunks of gun turrets driven into your stomach sure isn't good for anyone's health."

"What happened to Nishiyama? Wasn't his buddy in that turret?" asked Fisher.

"Already bagged and boxed," said Sane. "Poor guy didn't even make triage. Got the splinter. Nova...Natalie, both of you get all those vessels clamped. If a clamp isn't tight, we'll lose this guy when I begin working on that small intestine."

"Right," said Nova as Fisher handed her a few sets of scissor-like clamps that were quickly locked up inside Packard's body. "Do you think he's stable enough to fix that right leg, Doctor?"

"No...we'll just take it off. I can fix him up for a bionic replacement after he stabilizes," said Sane.

"So many shorts in here...I don't know how we're gonna get to all of them today," said Royster as he worked with his head stuck up inside a wiring conduit somewhere in the Argo's bridge tower.

"Skipper said we needed the radar fixed," growled Parmon. "If yew'd quit whinin', we'd get the damn thing fixed."

"Parmon, why are you picking on him?" demanded Diane Henson.

"Shove it, girlie," said Parmon. "You ain't pullin' your weight either. What kind of engineer are you?"

"A damn sight better than you, Randy," she snapped.

"Watch that, damnit, I outrank you, Henson!"

"Royster, never work with your ex if you can help it," growled Henson. "This officer's the biggest creep this side of the Great Magellenic Cloud."

"If you don't quit arguing, you'll both be on report," warned Royster. His voice echoed queerly since he was so far up the conduit. "Now, you get me that hydrospanner right now, Parmon."

"Whatever, sir," said Parmon as he handed the instrument up the tube. "Henson, get that cable up off the deck."

"Yessir," said Henson sarcastically. The cable left a stream of grease all over her snug white and orange uniform, but she didn't give a damn about looking good right now. "Here's the cable."

"Thanks. Now why ya refusin' to have lunch with me?" asked Parmon.

"I told you, Randy. PRP violation. I can't date someone from my own Group, for cryin' out loud!"

"Everyone knows it's just because ya still wanna get into Captain Wildstar's pants, ain't it?"

"Parmon, you're on something! I'm not into dating married men. Besides, he and I broke up years ago. Like you and I did. And my one chance at changing that situation went over like a lead balloon."

"If you two don't stop it, there's that report, " warned Royster.

"Sorry, sir," said Parmon. "Henson, hand me that other cable."

"Yessir," she replied, in a voice filled with loathing. Henson didn't like Nova Wildstar very much, since Nova had taken Captain Wildstar away from her forever (Diane was, of course, conveniently forgetting that she had broken it off with Derek years ago long before Nova had ever been on the scene)...but she positively detested Randy Parmon, her more recent ex. At some point, she knew, she'd make certain that she had her revenge upon Parmon.

"First of all, before we call this meeting to order," said Commanding General Charles Singleton, "I'd just like to let everyone know that I'm again fully fit for duty. Luckily, the knife wounds I received weren't all that deep. I'd like to thank all of you for your concern and phone calls and hospital visits."

"You're welcome, sir," said Stone, speaking for the rest of the Council.

"Now, shall we open?" said Singleton. "The time is now 1002 Hours, and let's return to the discussion of the Josiahite Cult. As all of you are no doubt aware, there were further developments in this matter over the weekend."

"Such as?" asked Weller, the Chief of Staff.

"Commander, my friends in Parliament have been wondering exactly what we're doing about these terrorist attacks upon Earth," said Lt. General Weiner, the attaché to the Senate Armed Services Committee. "They've been wondering why we have a defense force if we can't stop a few terrorists."

"It appears that the Josiahite Cult is far more wide-ranging than we thought it was," replied Franz Kolher of Intelligence. "According to our estimates, we think there are at least twelve cells to this cult, and we believe that it has penetrated parts of the Government and parts of the Earth Defense Forces."

"Why would a cult like that have followers in our Defense Forces?" asked Weiner.

"Many people have thought we should have never accepted help from aliens...not even from Queen Starsha of Iscandar or Trelaina of Telezart," said Kohler. "This cult apparently believes that all contacts with aliens are evil, and they believe that we should have lived or died on our own two feet, without accepting aid from anyone."

"They conveniently forget, of course, that had we never accepted aid from Starsha, the human race would be, for the most part, dead, with the few survivors left speaking Gamilon and enslaved to the Gamilons; if they had even allowed that," said Singleton.

"Commander, those sentiments, I am aware, make no sense," said Kohler. "But there have always been those who feel that we should have been the masters of our own destiny. And some, like these cultists, feel that the one-world Earth Government itself is an abomination. This cult's beliefs also include a strong racist element; in their thinking, only Christian Caucasians are fully human. All other racial and ethnic groups and followers of other religious beliefs are downgraded to a second-class status."

"Of course, we now know they're working with the Rikashans and the R'Khells," sniffed Stone. "So much for their "racial purity" and "anti-alien" angle."

"They somehow justify their contacts with our enemies by believing they are angels sent by the true Lord, who, in their thinking, is the same Being as the Dark Lord that Aliscea of Pellias recently warned us of," said Kohler. "The Josiahites' beliefs seem little different from those of the Rikashans, now, it would seem."

"A fifth column for our enemies," said Singleton. "I was afraid of that. Stone, have you found out where the enemy space submarines are coming from?"

"Not yet, sir," said Stone. "Sir...we need a more effective anti-submarine defense. Those patrol boats just don't cut it."

"And, Stone, such a defense is almost ready; provided we can, of course, figure out how to penetrate the warp shielding the R'Khells use for those subs and find the things with some type of subspace sonar," said Singleton.

"We may be close to solving that problem," said Brian Paulson, the Minister of Science. "We began working on a subspace sonar shortly after the Argo encountered Cometine space submarines last fall. When the development work is completed, we hope to have a type of sonar which can ferret out either the Cometine type of space submarines we already knew about, or the more deadly and effective R'Khell variant of the concept."

"And, we stand ready to put the solution into production when it is ready...hopefully, placing it, first, aboard a new patrol ship platform," said General Hidalgo Camacho of Logistics. "Gentlemen, in your briefing packets is the plan for the new type of gun boat we will use to solve the anti-submarine warfare problem, as well as the problem of providing a better type of close-escort ship. Now, let me change the view to the screen so you can see the first example of the new design that we have worked up here in BuShips. Ladies and gentlemen, permit me to unveil to you the Valkyrie class space gunboat."

The Council took a look at the detailed graphic that appeared on the screen; it was duplicated on the second page of the report.

"Quite a compact design," said Stone. "It certainly looks well-armed for its size and mass."

Hidalgo said, "We've developed a new type of depth charge that's launched from the aft counter-attack missile launchers known as the Type II Anti-Space Sub Rocket. "

"How would these new anti-space sub rockets work?" asked Weller.

"Basically, it's a small type of missile fired in groups of three out of each of the tubes," said Camacho, switched to a computerized graphic on the large screen for a moment. "Once an enemy space sub, similar to the Cometine or R'Khell type, is detected, the ship is turned in that general direction, and a burst of three rockets is fired from each tube, with a pattern spreading towards the enemy sub we wish to destroy. Hopefully, the six-way burst would neutralize or destroy the enemy spacecraft."

"Sounds logical," said Weller.

"Hopefully, once they come on-line, we'll never have a disaster of the sort we had with the Westhampton Beach again."

"How many examples have been built?" asked Weller.

"Just one so far, the Valkyrie herself," said Camacho. "She is due to begin trials next week."

"And who'll be commanding the ship?" asked Weller.

"We've decided to offer the command of this ship to a Lieutenant Denise Carroway, who has had quite a bit of flight experience and served honorably at the Battle of Denver last year." said Singleton. "I believe that, having been in combat recently, and having two commendations from her last two commanders, Carroway would be well-qualified to tell us how this particular class of ship would handle."

"Sir...we're putting a woman in command of one of our newest spacecraft?" said an aghast Weller. "Sir...I don't think women have the proper psychological profile to command space ships! I mean, sir...those hormonal cycles...and what if a woman should go down with a ship she's commanding? What would the effect be upon morale here on Earth?"

"That's right, sir," said Piper Sandberg of the Xeno-Cultural Bureau. "Sir...this plan sounds like lunacy!"

"Parliament would vote against it; I'm sure of it!" snapped Weiner, banging a fist against the table for emphasis.

Guys, both of you had better shut up, thought General Staci Willis in a very irritable tone inside her own head. "Gentlemen, this is getting nowhere," she said. "Regardless of your feelings about women in command, the Commander has already made the decision, and you'd better abide by it. Besides, we've already had one woman commanding a ship in combat; Ember Tyson. She did a damn great job a few days back around Neptune."

"Just because you're wearing a skirt, Willis? Is that why?" demanded Weiner.

"Sir, with all respect, you'd better damn well shut up," snapped Willis as she adjusted her glasses.

"Weiner, you had better stop this now," said Singleton in a low voice. "I'll have you know that in the event of a deeper emergency, I've already set aside for my own purposes the names of at least five other female officers I feel are competent to assume command of space warships. That is, should the need arise and should we need to spread talent throughout the Fleet from other vessels in the event of a severe personnel shortage. And one of them, it may surprise you to know, Weller, is a Staff Officer with a lot of on-the-job training."

"Friends of yours?" asked Weller in a snide voice. "Former secretaries or something?"

"Two of these officers have served in Administrative posts in the past," said Singleton. "But, for now, the identities of those officers are hardly relevant to our discussion. I am offering this ship to Carroway later today; and her orders have already been cut...if she accepts her assignment, that is. She would assume command on Friday if she accepts my offer to volunteer for command of this new vessel."

"Tell us, Commander, what about the Potemkin?" asked Weiner. "Have we found her yet?"

"The Argo engaged her at around 0330 Hours on Saturday," said Singleton. "It seems she was acting in conjunction with several R'Khell subs. During the battle, it was reported that Yvona Josiah was briefly seen. It seems the enemy somehow gave her the power to assume a youthful appearance of some type. It was also reported she was wearing some of Lieutenant Nova Wildstar's clothing."

"Which explains the results we found while investigating the Wildstar residence, sir," said Kohler. "Old examples, of course, of Captain Wildstar's and Lieutenant Wildstar's fingerprints were found all over the house and grounds. Examples of Yvona Josiah's fingerprints were also discovered on the grounds, and in the Wildstars' bedroom, as well as all over the knife used to assault Captain Josiah at his residence a few days ago. We thought that the operative who impersonated Nova Wildstar was just another member of the Josiah cult, but it appears that the woman who assaulted you, sir, may have been Josiah herself."

"That would seem to explain a great many things," said Singleton. "It appears this is all part of a plan being set into motion by the Being that the Star Force saw briefly at Pellias before its destruction. I believe that this Being might well be behind both the Rikashan attacks and the recent, more aggressive actions of the Josiahites. It is possible this Being may be controlling Yvona Josiah and her cult in some fashion."

"What happened to the Potemkin?" asked Weller. "Surely she didn't survive an engagement with the Argo?"

"We don't quite know what happened," said Singleton. "This morning, Captain Wildstar reported that the Potemkin was badly damaged and warped away after ramming the Argo. The Argo is now under continuing repair as she continues her journey to Iscandar to, hopefully, consult with Starsha and receive some more answers about this Being known as Ekogaru before the enemy's fortress pierces the Great Magellenic Cloud near the Sanzar System in a few weeks. Wildstar hopes that they will give Aliscea of Pellias enough intelligence to stop this Being soon, thus leaving us to deal only with the upcoming Rikashan threat."

"What type of threat, sir?" asked Weiner.

"Based upon Captain Wildstar's conversations with Aliscea of Pellias, it is felt that the enemy is planning to thrust into our solar system in a few months with a major invasion fleet, similar to the sort the Comet Empire used to attack us at Saturn-Titan. We'll need a major fleet buildup to meet a threat of this nature, ladies and gentlemen," said Singleton. "We'll need a fleet much bigger than the reconstruction plan now being considered."

"Hmmm," said Weller. "That'll need Presidential approval. Where is the Star Force now, sir?"

"About thirty-one thousand lightyears away from Earth, approaching the Octopus Star Group on her way to the Great Magellenic Cloud," said Singleton.

"Pending more intelligence from the Star Force, let's vote upon a Fleet buildup program to see if we can rebuild the Fleet back up to the levels it was at last fall," said Weller. "I would also like to propose that we re-instate stringent rationing, because we'll need the resources necessary to build all those ships."

"We'll need officers and enlisted, too," said General Willis. "I think we can fill up the gaps in our structure by calling up those men and women who may have been EDF or UNSDF members now in the inactive reserves. Some of these people would be older, granted, but we could use the experience right now."

Singleton nodded. "Good ideas. Anything else?"

"Let's find that rogue ship," said Stone. "If we have to, sir, perhaps we should prepare a special Task Force to aid the Star Force in finding that ship and bringing her down if needed."

"We have three motions, then," said Singleton. "Anything else?"

No one had anything else to say. "I second these motions; on the condition we'll have to submit these proposals to Parliament for approval," said Camacho.

"Very well. Shall we vote?"

The motions were read off and passed; with Weiner's vote being the only dissent.

"Motions approved," said Singleton. "Weiner, in spite of your opposition, it will be your job to submit our decisions to Parliament and get them passed. Can I trust you with that?"

"Sir, I will be up before the Senate Armed Services Committee later today," said Weiner. "I will emphasize it's important to get these proposals into and out of committee and up before the full Parliament by the end of the week. Then, after everything is passed, I hope we can get the President to sign off on these changes a few days later."

"Good, Weiner," said Singleton. "I knew we could count on you. Don't let these motions get stalled in Committee."

"I won't...sir," said Weiner with a smile.

That evening, Lieutenant Denise Carroway arrived back home at her BOQ apartment from her evening jog, wearing sneakers and her grey EDF sweats. What's this? she thought, looking at her phone. Some message from Jeff? I told him; I'll meet him tonight at 2000 Hours. These civilians never understand military time, no matter how much you tell them....jeez.

Carroway irritably punched the "play" button on her phone. She stood stretching as she listened to some anonymous female voice saying, "Lieutenant Carroway, it has been ordered that you report to Commanding General Singleton's office at nineteen hundred hours tonight for an urgent meeting. It has been arranged for you to be absent from your duty shift at oh-four hundred tomorrow morning to facilitate this meeting. You may consider yourself on liberty until this time tomorrow evening. Please be prompt for your meeting, and report in proper uniform."

Denise turned off the player and looked around her apartment in surprise. "Nineteen hundred...that's an hour and a half away. Better call Jeff and tell him I have to cancel out for tonight..."

Carroway pulled off her sneakers and began to dial Jeff Sohn, her civilian engineer boyfriend. The lights in her apartment gleamed in her light blue eyes as she made the phone call. Finally, she got through.

"Yes, who is this?" asked Jeff. "And why are we voice only?"

"Jeff, it's Denise. I'm getting changed, and, sorry, I can't make it tonight."

"Why not? Damnit, what's the excuse now?"

"I just got a call from the Commanding General. I have to report to his office tonight at nineteen hundred...that's seven o'clock for people like you."

"Can't you change the appointment?"

"Jeff, you don't just ask the Commanding General of the Earth Defense Forces to reschedule an appointment when you've been ordered to show up at his office. That doesn't work in this Fleet, my friend. We'll have to reschedule for tomorrow afternoon after you get off work."

"Denise...I'm not sure I believe you. This is sure sudden."

"Jeff, regardless of whether you believe me or not, I have to be there. I've got to go now. I'll see you tomorrow at sixteen hundred at the Starlight Café, okay? Bye."

And, with that, Carroway hung up.

I'm sorry, but you can't ruin my career, Jeff, thought Denise as she ran towards the shower. And I wonder what kind of trouble I'm in? The Commander doesn't just call you up and order you to report for a casual chat...

"Sir," said Carroway as she stood in Singleton's office a while later in her blue EDF uniform and white peacoat, "Lieutenant Denise Carroway, reporting as ordered."

Singleton returned her salute with a small smile and then said, "Carroway, at ease. You're probably wondering why you were summoned here, aren't you?"

"Yessir...I am."

"I've been considering your record lately, Carroway. Grant and I aren't sure your talents are being put to good use in your squadron. You've had a good record, and you've earned a battle star thanks to what you've done at the Battle of Denver in December when you were training under Wildstar's command. What did you think of the man, then?"

"Sir, permission to speak freely?"

"Granted."

"Wildstar was a good instructor, a tough squadron leader, and a great hero, but he's something of a...punk...sir. Not quite my type, to be honest. I like sticking to the book...I only think you need to throw it away on occasion."

"And when might that be?"

"In battle, if the situation called for it, sir. I don't like violating regs all the time, sir. Maybe you could say I'm a middle of the road type, sir."

"With your own streak?"

"What do you mean, sir?"

"Have you ever wanted to serve aboard a carrier or gunboat?"

"Perhaps, sir. I wouldn't mind if the opportunity presented itself. However, you'd never get me near the current excuse for a gun boat that has been deployed, sir."

"Do you mean the 2200 model?"

Carroway nodded.

"Good. I think they're a poor excuse for a patrol boat, too." Singleton dimmed the lights in the room and turned on his vidscreen, bringing up a graphic of the Valkyrie.

"What's that, sir?"

"Our newest class of gun boat, Carroway."

"Looks a little old in some ways...new in others. Like the weapons array on her."

"The first one just left the construction yards, and she needs a skipper. The Captain of a ship of this class has to know how to fly, since he or she would take control of the ship when she goes into torpedo and bombing runs against enemy targets or ships. A skipper of a ship of this class would serve with a crew of ten; two more officers, and eight enlisted. The quarters would be cramped, a bit Spartan, but livable. We're planning four-month patrols for ships of this class...with frequent underway replenishment as needed. The class ship, the Valkyrie, as I said, is set to begin trials on Friday. You would need to do some studying, were you to be reassigned to a ship of this type."

"Me? Reassigned to this?"

"Yes...as her skipper. I'm offering you a command, Carroway. Your very first. Should you desire to accept this offer, please be aware that I'm recruiting only volunteers. Whether you wish to accept or decline this command is up to you, Lieutenant. If you accept, you'd be on liberty for a day and would report to the dockyard on Wednesday to begin looking over your new command. If you decline, nothing more need be said about this meeting."

"How much time do I have to consider your offer, sir?"

"As much time as you'd need...within reason. I'd need your answer within twenty-four hours."

"Sir...meaning no disrespect...I can give you my answer now."

"Which is?"

"Sir, I respectfully volunteer for this assignment. Would you give me a good crew?" she said with a wide smile going across her face. She felt like doing a cartwheel, but knew it would be improper to do so in front of the Commander!

Singleton chuckled. "All of your crew will be volunteers, Carroway. Welcome to the joys of Command," said Singleton as he reached over his desk to shake her hand. "Your orders will be cut and waiting for you at Dock #445 on Wednesday the 20^th at 0900 Hours. You're on liberty until then, Lieutenant. I'll clear everything with Grant. Good luck."

"Thank you, sir," said a very surprised Carroway. I don't believe this, she thought. This is the career boost I've been praying for! Is this really happening? Oh, don't let this be a dream!

"Godspeed. I wish you well, Lieutenant...or is that Captain?"

Carroway smiled again. She knew now it was no dream. She left Singleton's office floating on air.

"Entered into Discussion Agenda," said Senator Weishaupt, Chairman of the Armed Services Committee, "...all of the Liaison's proposals passed by the Earth Defense Council on Monday."

"I tell you guys, I will start another filibuster if we can't decide on how many ships they're building. It'll screw the budget," said Senator Roland. "We have to keep that budget balanced."

"And why?" said Senator Kiiyama.

"Damnit, you know we're up for reelection in November," snapped Roland. "If we raise taxes again, the voters will have our heads."

Even General Weiner, the military attaché' to this Committee, sat tapping his fingers irritably against the polished table as the twelve fat Senators argued in the smoke-filled meeting room. If we don't get this argument resolved by November, maybe we can finish the discussion in a Rikashan prison camp as we're waiting to get shot, he thought.

"I tell you, the party leadership is getting miffed at you, Roland," said another Senator, named MacBride. "Some guys are wondering if Saturn-Titan and Gideon's appointment were your fault, Jimmy."

"You get stuffed!" yelled Roland. "Anyway, it's almost time for the races. Don't you guys have bets running on some of these nags?" he asked as he flicked on the horse races.

"Yeah, we'll get back to this in the afternoon..." said Weishaupt. "Meeting adjourned until 2 o'clock. It can wait. I don't see any Rikashan fleets descending upon Earth today, you know."