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An odd thing, violence, he pondered, watching the computer change a Commander of Sabres in his “hand” to an Ace of Flasks. He’d inflicted violence on Lando in order to save him from a nasty burn, and hadn’t felt a qualm down in his programming. Yet, had some third person tried to harm Lando, the robot would have been helpless to remove the threat. Definitely a glitch there.

It bothered him.

“The Wennis is a ship, Lehesu, like the Falcon here,” Lando said an hour later over a steaming plate from the food-fixer.

“So Vuffi Raa tells me. It’s a difficult concept to grasp.”

“Well, grasp this: it’s the personal yacht of Rokur Gepta, Sorcerer of Tund. We’ve run into that fellow twice before, and not nicely either time. Now that I know he’s involved, this whole blockade makes sense. The truce’ll be over when he gets here.”

The gambler suppressed a shudder, remembering previous confrontations. Once, in the Oseon, the sorcerer had used a device to stimulate every unpleasant memory Lando had, then recycle them, over and over, until he nearly went mad. It had been interference from Klyn Shanga, intent on destroying Vuffi Raa, that had accidentally saved him. They’d rescued Shanga from the wreck of his small fighter afterward and turned him over to the authorities in another system. He wondered where the man was now.

“Well, in any case, I think I’ve got an idea. You know, in order to win a war it isn’t necessary to defeat your enemy, just make the fight so expensive he’ll give up and go away.”

“I wouldn’t know,” the Oswaft answered, “but what you say makes sense.”

“Sure. As I explained to Vuffi Raa, this blockade’s bound to have some opposition. It’s already expensive, we merely have to make it more so.”

“How can we do that? We have no weapons, and the fleet, with its shields up, is no longer vulnerable to our voices, as was the Courteous. It has occurred to me that it was a good thing I was in a weakened condition when I met you, otherwise I might have destroyed you in the same manner.”

The gambler waved a negligent hand at the monitor. “There was only one of you, whereas I’m told there were a thousand Oswaft in the party that met the Courteous. Never mind that, we’re going to let the fleet destroy itself.”

“How?” Both Vuffi Raa and Lehesu spoke this time.

“I have some questions to ask you first: it’s really true you can understand interfleet communications?”

“Yes, Lando, so could any of my people, given a few moments’ thought.”

“Hmmm … All right, what about this synthesizing business. Can you make any substance I ask you to?”

“As long as it’s relatively simple and there are raw materials to hand, as it were.”

“And the nebula: your elders tell me that there isn’t any food there for you, that it was all ‘grazed’ out, long ago. Yet there are raw materials …”

“Yes, Lando, where is all of this leading?”

“Out of a mess. One more thing: how long do you have to rest between hyperjumps, and how accurately can you predict where you’ll break out?”

“Lando,” the Oswaft said in exasperation, “I think I see where you’re going with this. You want us to make bombs or something and plant them on the fleet’s vessels. In the first place, from what Vuffi Raa has told me of weaponry, bombs aren’t all that simple. In the second—”

“No, no. Nothing to do with bombs at all, and besides, those ships’ll be coming in here shielded to a fare-thee-well. And in the second, I said we’ll let them destroy themselves, didn’t I? I have a plan to make the war expensive, that’s all.”

He hunched over the monitor, conspiratorially. Vuffi Raa leaned toward him, consumed by curiosity. Lando was clearly enjoying this part, and the robot wasn’t sure that made him happy.

“Now here’s what we’ll do …”

• XIV •

“GENTLEMEN, MAN YOUR fighters!”

Klyn Shanga gazed across the cavernous cluttered hangar deck inside the Wennis as his squadron climbed into their tiny spacecraft. Even good old Bern was there, snaking up the ladder into his