Undoubtedly there were older, more decrepit spaceships than this one traveling among the League Worlds, but Norma had never seen one. It made the decommissioned vessel that Aurelius had provided for her space-folding project look modern.

Leaving its parking orbit around Poritrin, the old craft vibrated as it accelerated out into open space. The bare interior smelled of scorched insulation, human sweat, and stale food. Stains marked the deck and wall plates, which appeared to have been only half-heartedly cleaned. She wondered if this ship was used for hauling slaves, though now she was the only passenger, aside from the guards.

It would be a long, uncomfortable voyage, adding to Norma’s shame and misery.

Two sullen-looking Dragoon guards sat to either side of her on a long metal bench, as if wondering what they had done to displease Lord Bludd and receive this long, slow assignment. Crates of cargo (including her own belongings), had been hurriedly loaded into the open spaces and stacked against the walls. She was surprised Tuk Keedair hadn’t been forced to join her.

The open passenger compartment was filled with utilitarian bunks and benches; Norma had seen banks of coffin like chambers on the cargo decks below, presumably stasis beds. If filled to capacity, the austere vessel could carry at least a thousand people.

“This is a slave ship, isn’t it?” she asked the nearest Dragoon.

He gazed down at her with heavy-lidded eyes and said nothing. He didn’t need to respond.

With her vivid imagination, Norma envisioned sweating, crowded Buddislamic captives on board, forcibly removed from some hinterland world. She sensed their lingering, ghostly misery. People had died on these decks.

The thought put her problems in perspective. Yes, she had been sent away against her will, but at least the guards were taking her home… even if it was in disgrace. Her mother would make certain Norma understood how great a failure she was. Yet things could have been worse. Sighing, Norma wished she had Aurelius there to keep her company on the long voyage.

She shifted on the hard bench, but could not get comfortable. She had little to occupy her time, no amusements or diversions whatsoever. This wasn’t a luxury cruise through the cosmos.

A creative excursion through her own mind usually enabled her to forget about physical hardships. With her work stolen and her life disrupted, however, Norma found herself focusing too much on her surroundings and the inadequacies of her stunted body.

To comfort herself, she toyed with the lovely soostone Aurelius had given her. Though it had never had any telepathic effect on her, she enjoyed the memories triggered by the smooth stone. Norma closed her eyes and let calculations run across the window of her mind, long rows and columns of numbers and mathematical symbols, as if they were arrayed in space… right outside the portholes of this slave ship.

Though he had tried, Savant Holtzman could not take away the core of her accomplishments. She kept all of that locked within the intricate passageways of her mind, every detail available to her recollection, everything she needed to know about her foldspace work. Exploring her own mental archives entertained her, and she changed the numbers and symbols, watching them appear and disappear at will. It was her secret universe, where no other person could look… though someday she would like to share it with Aurelius.

At least I am still alive. At least I am still free.

From a distance, she heard a loud, abrasive voice. For some reason it made her think of her mother scolding her for yet another weakness. As if in the absurdity of a dream, Zufa Cenva was flying through deep space alongside the ship, peering in at her through a porthole with fiery eyes, like two tiny red suns.

Abruptly, Norma came out of her trance and recognized the chaos around her. The Dragoon guards were on their feet, shouting in Galach, and the chartered slave ship was veering off course. The old engines made heated, straining sounds as the pilot changed his route abruptly.

Losing her balance, she stumbled against the wall porthole and looked out in surprise to see red eyes peering in at her, but they did not belong to her mother. This evil gaze came from a mechanical monster constructed to look like an immense orange-and-green prehistoric bird— and her mother was nowhere around to help with her Sorceress powers.

The slave ship shuddered in evasive maneuvers, and the raptorlike craft swooped away, showing its hot exhaust ports and then circling around. For several moments Norma lost sight of the beast. The guards shouted again, and cargo crates toppled over, smashing on the floor and spilling padded bottles of exported Poritrin rum.

She ran across the top of the bench toward the opposite porthole. The spaceship jolted as it was struck by a blast that reverberated through the decks with a sound like a hammer against an anvil. Norma tumbled to the corrugated metal deck.

When she finally reached the porthole, she saw the monstrous craft again, swooping toward the old slave ship like a hawk hunting a helpless pigeon.

The huge flying machine opened its jagged mouth as if to roar, revealing banks of sharp artificial teeth, each one as big as a doorway. Norma had a difficult time maintaining her grip on reality.

Is this really happening? she asked herself. It seemed impossible. Somehow, her focused thoughts had expanded, dilated to encompass far too much. She clutched the gem like a talisman. I must regain control of my mind.

She struggled to reason the situation out, summoning logical possibilities. Could the monstrously gaudy vessel be a…cymek flyer? But why would an enemy ship be out here, and why would it be after her?

The raptor vessel grasped the sluggish slave ship with huge grappler talons. Norma saw the ribbed green belly of the huge bird-machine, large enough to swallow their whole ship. Its underside was marred with scrapes and long black scorch marks, perhaps from battle.

The machine ship opened a compartment in its belly and drew the smaller captured vessel toward it. Acid-green lights blazed inside the confinement chamber, hurting Norma’s eyes.

Once the slave ship had been swallowed up like a morsel of raw meat, the doors of the giant ship closed.

INSIDE THE MECHANICAL behemoth, a preservation canister dangled from the ceiling like a spider’s egg sac, high over the captured vessel. Red and blue lights blinked around the container, surging as the disembodied brain increased its mental activity. Abruptly, thoughtrode sensors extruded like electronic talons, to better study the prey.

Finally, I can earn my forgiveness from General Agamemnon, Xerxes thought, as he began recording data.