have enough small
arms to defend themselves. They can't stay where they are."

"But they're military men, and loyal!"

"Are they? The war's over for them, anyway. Why not let them vote on
it?"

Tulan jumped up and strode around the command room, while Jezef and the
staff watched him silently. Gradually, the logic of it forced itself
upon him. "All right," he said wearily, "We'll let them vote."

* * * * *

A few hours later he studied the results gloomily. "Well, after all,
they're not Fleet. They don't have the tradition."

Jezef smiled, then lingered, embarrassed.

"Well?" Tulan asked.

"Sir," (that hadn't come out, in private, for years) "I'd like to be
relieved."

It was a blow, but Tulan found he wasn't really surprised. He stared at
his brother-in-law, feeling as if he faced an amputation. "You think I'm
wrong about this whole thing, don't you?"

"I'm not going to judge that, but Sennech's in trouble far worse than
any question of politics, including your own family."

"But if we turn back now Coar will recover! It's only going to take us a
few more hours!"

"How long does it take people to die?"

Tulan looked at the deck for a while. "All right. I'll detach every
ship I can spare, and put you in charge. You'll have the transports too,
as soon as they're unloaded." He stared after Jezef, wanting to call out
to him to be sure to send word about Anatu and the boys, but somehow
feeling he didn't have the right.

* * * * *

He took the fighting ships away from Teyr, to where Group Two could join
up without being unmasked, then started sunward as if he were crossing
to intercept Coar. A few miles in, where they'd be hidden in the sun, he
left a few scouts.

As he saw it, the enemy commander on the satellite, noting the armada's
course and finding himself apparently clear, would have no choice but to
lift his ships and start around the sun by some other path to help his
planet.

That other path to Coar could be intercepted, and as soon as Tulan was
lost near the sun he went into heavy drive to change direction. He
drifted across the sun, waiting for word from his scouts. At about the
time he'd expected, they reported ships leaving the satellite.

He looked across the room toward Plot. "Plot! Feed that data to
Communications as it comes in, will you?" And to Communications: "Can we
beam Group Three from here?"

"Not quite, sir; but I