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Updated: May 2, 2025
But we'll be prepared, however unlikely your idea. We'll be ready." He clicked off. Only minutes later, the combat-alert order came through. In the next ten minutes, Bors's ship hummed for five, was quiet for three, and then, two minutes early, all inner compartment doors closed quietly and there was that muffled stillness which meant that everybody was ready for anything that might happen.
There was cheering for his men on Dover, and he might have landed there. But there were too many coincidences, far too many. He waited, fifty thousand miles high, with the ship at combat-alert. He felt cold all over. Somehow, news had preceded him. It was garbled truth, but there was enough to make his spine feel like ice.
"I'll come with you," said his uncle. He smiled at Bors, who noted, but was not surprised at, the genuineness of the smile. "This is the ship you mentioned as hoping to emulate the Horus. I don't think you'll surrender it. But I've surrendered once and I don't like it. I'd rather not do it again." Compartment-doors went back to normal, as combat-alert went off. Morgan appeared, agitated and upset.
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