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He pummeled, kicked, beat, attacked, bit, punched and butted the robots with his head, oblivious to his own risk of injury. Several times, the gym attendants had considered restraining or sedating him. But Korie was only one of thousands who felt the need to kick the living crap out of a Morthan, and the workouts with the robots were considered a valuable therapeutic exercise for everyone.
    At all other times, Korie’s demeanor was singularly professional, but it did not require a quantum mechanic to figure out why Korie was so obsessive about keeping the Star Wolf functioning at optimum military readiness. Whenever the ship came to port, whether Stardock or any other safe harbor, Korie had Chief Petty Officer “Toad” Hall out negotiating for upgrades, spares and additional weaponry, whatever he could find, wherever he could find it. The Star Wolf had even taken aboard a shipment of six defective torpedoes—rather than let them be recalled, Korie and Chief Engineer Leen intended to rebuild the units to their own specifications.
    As long as Korie’s obsessions were sublimated into such potentially useful outlets, Captain Parsons had no objections. Indeed, she actually enjoyed watching Jon Korie work. He was a complex and interesting man—and he had the effect of energizing everyone around him. Parsons had written the admiral that she had never been on a ship that hummed with so much directed activity, and she felt this was directly due to Jon Korie’s determination, now shared by the crew, that the Star Wolf would outlive the blemishes on her name.
    â€œThere are a lot of advantages,” Parsons had written, “to serving on a big ship, a ship like the ‘Big E.’ It’s the biggest, the best, the boldest and the brightest. Wherever you go, you’re regarded as the pride of the fleet and the hope of humanity. But the ‘Big E’ doesn’t get sent out to the front lines because the Fleet can’t take the risk of losing her. The psychological shock wave that would send across the Allied Worlds would
be devastating. So it falls to the smaller ships, the liberty ships, to plow the dark between the stars and take the ultimate risks. This is where the real heroism is found—among the men and women who know that they are not going to be celebrated wherever they go, among those who are doing their jobs because they know the value of their actions to the Fleet. Despite the risks, despite the lack of appropriate reward, despite the lack of glory and fame—these are the people who are going to make the difference for all of us. What is truly remarkable about all of them is what they bring to their work—not just a sense of obligation, but more than that, a genuine affection for their duty.
    â€œThese young heroes—and heroes they truly are—have learned to love their mission. Whatever it is that energizes these people,” Parsons concluded in her letter, “it is not only a source of enormous hope, I believe it will eventually prove to be the fuel for our victory over the Morthan Solidarity. I do not know if this feeling can be trained or taught, but once experienced, it can never be forgotten or expunged from a human soul.”
    Admiral O’Hara had replied, “Captain Parsons, thank you for your note. I intend to share your thoughts with all of the other captains under my command. I can see now that I was right to insist that you take the Star Wolf . I had expected that there was much you would teach her crew. I am pleased to find that you are learning as much from them. Carry on.”

Probes

    â€œThirty seconds to horizon—” called Tor.
    Parsons checked her own display. Even though she knew exactly what she would see, she had long ago gotten into the habit of confirming everything herself. “Good,” she said. The hatch behind her popped open. Without turning around, she said, “We’re now officially in range.