“We don’t want anyone to get hurt. Your presence aboard the artifact is an accident, and we will take that into account. But I want you to understand my position clearly. I have information that substantial forces from the FFF, the Keiretsu, and elsewhere are on their way to the Sol system even as we speak.

“The Chakans have always struck boldly. I cannot waste any more time.”

The Autothor flared briefly, a delicate pale blue. “A portion of my exterior has just been damaged due to the impact of destructive energies. Steps are being taken to preserve atmospheric pressure and systems integrity.”

Hawkins looked around nervously. “Damn! They aren’t kidding.”

Shimoda blinked. “I didn’t feel anything. They must have hit the ship somewhere far away from our location.”

“Next time they might not.” Follingston-Heath, too, looked troubled.

“That was just a warning strike.” Now the Chakan allowed himself a slight smirk. “Our ships may be far smaller than the artifact itself, but size means nothing in these matters. The quadratic is quite capable of reducing a modest-sized city to ash. You can see that if necessary we can make our own entrance. I’d rather not do that. It could destroy valuable artifacts and information.

“Don’t think to run. Our predictors are locked onto you and will activate suitable weapons accordingly. Please provide us with an entry port immediately. If you do not cooperate, then when we have finally made our way aboard, I assure you your unplanned sojourn will come to an abrupt and unpleasant end.”

“What am I to do?” The Autothor was whirling rapidly and there was agitation in its voice. “This is so confusing.” In addition to spinning, it began to bounce off the floor like a ball on the end of a rubber band. “I don’t know what to do!”

“Can you slip into tachyspace and lose them?” Gelmann wondered.

“Not if they’re locked on with predictors, old boy,” Follingston-Heath said bleakly.

“There must be something we can do.” Iranaputra confronted the bobbing, dancing ellipse. “Search your memory. Look for analogies. Try.”

“I have tried. Perhaps if my cortex was completely restored … at this point I don’t even know what I am, so I can hardly decide how to respond.”

“Well, we can’t just let them in.” Gelmann sounded decisive.

“Why not?” Hawkins eyed them all wonderingly. “What do you all think you’re doing? What are we doing here? Look at us! We’re a bunch of decrepit old loons. We should be sitting on the porch at Lake Woneapenigong, playing checkers and discussing last night’s triball game or vidcom. We’re not marines.” He noticed that Follingston-Heath was eying him reprovingly. “That includes you too, Wesley. So don’t give me any of that supercilious lip of yours.” He approached the ellipse.

“Hey you, Chakans! We don’t want any trouble neither. Gimme a minute to talk to this thing and we’ll find a way to let you and your people … mmph!”

“Very sorry, Wal.” Shimoda had placed a massive hand over the much smaller man’s mouth. Hawkins squirmed like an electrified wire but even as a young man he couldn’t have freed himself from the sumo enthusiast’s grasp. “I feel your declaration of our surrender is premature.”

“That might be all it is.” Shimoda looked at Follingston-Heath in surprise. The Colonel shrugged helplessly. “Much as I hate to agree with Wal, there really isn’t anything we can do, chaps.”

“They are directing destructive fire at me again!” The Autothor was panicky. “What should I do?”

Hawkins finally freed his mouth, if not his body. “Let go of me, rice-ass! This is crazy! You’re only gonna get us all hurt, or worse!” He glared wildly at his companions, then at the Autothor. “For God’s sake, let ’em aboard before they blow their way in here and we lose pressure! I don’t wanna end my retirement as a lunar satellite.”

“You’re a nasty, evil man,” Mina Gelmann informed the Chakan, “you should only go color-blind and mistake cockroach pellets for strawberries!”

“And you are a senile old woman. What is the matter with you people? Don’t any of you have any sense? This is not a vid entertainment.”

Follingston-Heath looked distinctly skittish. “Really, I think we should give it up. Wal’s right. We’ve gotten ourselves involved in something way beyond us. I don’t know about the rest of you but I … I’d like to get back to the Village. Back to my apartment.”

Gelmann was staring at him. “Wesley, this isn’t like you.”

“Mina, we could get killed.”

Hawkins’s gaze had narrowed. He glared back at Shimoda, who reluctantly let him go. The smaller man straightened his clothes and gazed thoughtfully at his tall nemesis of many years and arguments. They’d never been worse than friendly enemies.

“Wesley, you’re not a soldier.”

Follingston-Heath looked at him sharply. “Whatever do you mean, Wal?”

“I mean,” said Hawkins, striding across the sand to confront the other man, “that you’re not retired from the Victoria League military forces. I bet you were never in the Victoria League military forces. The kind of officer you’ve always claimed to be wouldn’t be talking like you’re talking now.” His tone was uncharacteristically gentle. “We’re all your friends here, Wes, no matter who you are or what you were. This is a good time for a little truth. Might be the last time.”

Looking around, Follingston-Heath saw that his best friends in the world were staring at him expectantly. He maintained the pose a moment longer, loath even at the last to give it up. Then he slumped. “Okay. It’s true. Oh, I’m from Hampstead V all right. But Wal’s got it. My name is Wesley, but just plain Wesley Heath. No Follingston. And I was in the military.” He seemed to straighten a little. “I just never rose higher than corporal.

“It wasn’t what you’d call a distinguished field career. I worked in information storage, basic retrieval and cleaning. Got to read a lot of military history, strategy, like that. The one thing I wanted was to retire to Earth someday. But I couldn’t do that as a … a librarian’s assistant. So I invented the Right Honorable Colonel Wesley Follingston-Heath and managed to annex some appropriate credentials and records. Wasn’t easy, believe me.

“Once I slipped into the persona, well, it was simple enough to keep it going. I’ve enjoyed being Colonel Wesley Follingston-Heath. It’s a lot better than being plain old Wes Heath.” He looked beaten. “I’m sorry. If you’d seen what my life was like, you might understand better.”

“That’s all right, Wesley.” Gelmann came over and put an arm around him, squeezing comfortingly. “You shouldn’t worry, we like you just fine for who you are, not what you weren’t.”

“I may even like you better,” said Shimoda.

“The same thoughts here.” Iranaputra walked over and shook Heath’s hand firmly. Behind them gentle wavelets continued to caress the glaucescent beach.

“I don’t mean to bring this touching tableau to a crashing halt,” said Hawkins steadily, “but nobody’s gonna get the opportunity to expand on this heartrending rendezvous of truth if we don’t decide to do the sensible thing pretty quick.”

Gelmann kept her arm around Heath. He ventured a faltering smile, his gaze traveling from Shimoda, to Iranaputra, and eventually to Hawkins.

“I’m sorry I was so hard on you so many times, old chap. But you were such a damnably good target.”

“A librarian.” Hawkins flung sand toward the rippling sea. “And the rest of us prize suckers.”

“I said I was sorry. I can’t be anything else.”

“Hell.” Hawkins looked at the ground. “Forget it. You’re a damn good checkers player. Damn good.”

Heath sighed. “It was fun while it lasted, don’t you know.”

“So was this, but it is over.” Iranaputra turned to regard the sea. “I did not think when I agreed to help out the kitchen supervisor with a recalcitrant piece of machinery that it would lead to this.”

“The Chakans.” Hawkins eyed the Autothor. “I wonder if the bastards mean what they say when they claim they’ll let us go.”

“It doesn’t matter,” said Heath. “We’ve no choice.”

“Ah,” the Autothor blurted unexpectedly, “so that’s it!” Everyone flinched as it soared ceilingward, emitting a miniature sonic boom and exploding in size until it had tripled, quadrupled its dimensions. As those below gaped, its color deepened, becoming a richer, purer shade of blue, until it had taken on the aspect of a turquoise sun dominating the pseudo-sky overhead. The perpetual sunset over the artificial ocean went from pink and gold to blue and gold while the azure effulgence turned the grains of emerald sand underfoot an exquisite blue-green, so that the beach seemed suddenly paved with a billion tiny aquamarines.

Gelmann slid down her Autothor-manufactured sunshades while her companions scrambled to slip their own in place. “Well, aren’t you the sudden show-off. What’s going on?”

The now massive, throbbing blue ellipse blazed ebulliently. “I have just reintegrated a critical portion of memory. It is not precisely a revelation, but temporality has become demonstrably less confusing!”

“Wow,” Hawkins muttered diffidently. “I’m so excited.”

The Autothor spun madly, throwing off splinters of galvanic turquoise. “It is, it is! I am, I am!”