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a particularly close stellar body, ten light-years away or so, would streak past dramatically, but for the most part there was more of an ordered procession to be observed than a rampant rush into the future.
    “Captain.”
    Aymes didn’t turn around at the voice. He continued to watch the procession. “Yes First?”
    “We are approaching the first checkpoint, sir. Long-range instruments detect no sign of the targets.”
    Aymes nodded slowly. Not really anything unexpected there.
    “Proceed as scheduled. I’ll make further decisions once we’ve got better scans.”
    “Yes Captain.”
    They wouldn’t find any sign of the Drasin at their first stop, Aymes would bank on that. No useful sign, at least. The Drasin left unmistakable carnage behind them, marked into the very worlds of every system they touched, but what the Cohn was looking for was any information on where they had gone .
    That wasn’t going to be located so easily.
    Still, he and his crew had to check by the numbers, just to be certain. The risks were too great to do otherwise.
    He shuddered to think of what would have happened if the Drasin had been lost with a sufficient breeding group of first-generation drones. As it was, the havoc they would wreak was nearly incalculable, but if they had sufficient resources to propagate a new first generation . . . well, not even the Empire would be safe, he’d bet.
    Frankly, Aymes thought that the Department of War was flat-out insane for unleashing such things on the universe. What good were systems that had been emptied of their most viable worlds? Certainly, the Drasin made for excellent terror weapons and a shatteringly impressive strategic threat, but from what he’d read, the orders for the last series of incursions into Oather space had been anything but strategic.
    Should have cut through the small colonies immediately, gone straight to the homeworlds. Turn one or two of those into Drasin fodder and the rest would have capitulated to the Empire in days—weeks at the outside, Aymes thought, annoyed by the unprofessional nature of the action.
    Someone had let their emotions and bloodlust get the best of them, he supposed. Or, perhaps more likely, they were going to use the whole exercise as an example to some of the outlying Imperial worlds. Show them what happened to those who tried to keep to old and antiquated ways.
    If that was the case, however, Aymes figured that plan had backfired most spectacularly. The Drasin were loose. And the Oathers, apparently not nearly as defenseless as they should have been, now had allies.
    Imperial communications corporations were working overtime to cover up any hint of the failure. If word got out, ideas would not be far behind.
    And there were few things as dangerous as ideas.
     
    ►►►
     
    Priminae Capital, Ranquil
     
    ► “Welcome, Captain!”
    Eric smiled as he walked under the looming fuselage of the shuttle, extending a hand to Rael Tanner in greeting. The admiral cut a slight figure, but Eric was well aware that judging him by his size or his subtle temper would be a mistake. He was the commander in chief of the Priminae Navy and overall commander of their entire military, a position that held very little respect or accolades from the locals. Winning his position may not have been the challenge it would have been on Earth, but keeping his position nonetheless showed tenacious dedication to duty over all other things.
    “Admiral, a pleasure as always.”
    “More so for me, Captain. The reports of your passing were deeply saddening.”
    “Well, as a once infamous personage back home said, the reports of my demise were greatly exaggerated . . .” He paused, considering his words for a moment, and then shrugged. “Okay . . . not greatly in my case. It was a lot closer to accurate than I’d like to admit, but still exaggerated.”
    “Indeed,” Tanner said archly. “You will have to tell me that story, in detail, but later. I’ll arrange