| |
SUNS! ANOTHER HIT. “Command, down to twenty-five percent,” Saree reported. “They’re ganging up on me.”
“Copy, Alpha shuttle,” Weaver said. “Unable to assist.”
None of them were going to make it out of Bonfanti alive. Half their shuttles were gone, Lightwave’s shields were slowly eroding under attack and there didn’t seem to be any help coming, despite their previous request to Gov Human. And they hadn’t met their goal of taking out Wreck. Strangely, Phalanx Eagle’s Spear One folder hadn’t joined in the battle. Why didn’t PE take this opportunity to finish them off? Saree hoped for a mutiny; that would be poetic justice.
She shot down another remote, her hit to the fuel cell sending it careening into another remote and setting off a chain reaction. But more remotes took their places and Saree’s hopes spiraled down like a comet pulled inexorably into a black hole. If only she could call in the Sa’sa Warriors. Then they’d have a chance. But there was no way to get a message out now. Bonfanti wouldn’t let it go.
How did the Sa’sa call in the Warriors? They didn’t use message pods...
Saree’s surveillance pinged. Suns. A shuttle approaching, originating from the Arena. With the full power of a shuttle’s weapons at close range, she was dead.
“Alpha shuttle, Assault Team Command on Arena shuttle... Nero,” Ruhger’s voice said.
“Oof.” Relief and happiness sent her sagging in the harness for a moment.
“Alpha shuttle, acknowledge.” Ruhger used his normal command voice, but there was a tinge of concern.
Saree shook herself. “Alpha shuttle acknowledges.”
“Inbound. Transmitting orbit. Fly closest formation possible with us and surviving shuttles. We’ve got friendly indicators and protection.”
“Wilco.” Saree pulled up the orbit and swept it into navigation. She waited, finger over the thruster control, until the group of shuttles neared. She set a close surveillance beam to track the shuttle nearing her and pressed the control for the initial impulse. Falling in line with the others, she pushed her remaining shields to the rear of the shuttle, hoping whatever indicator or protection Ruhger was talking about worked. As they flew along, Saree had little time to worry about her shields or anything else—difficult enough to remain in danger-close formation with the five shuttles.
“Approaching dock, ready for back thrust,” Ruhger announced.
Dock? She didn’t see an airlock. All she saw was armor. But she stopped all forward thrust and kept her finger hovering over the opposite thrusters, ready to slow the shuttle.
“Back thrust full power to match with station in four, three, two, go.”
Saree hit the thrusters and watched her close surveillance beam for distances. The beam shortened and lengthened, but never outside the bounds she’d set for herself. They floated in close formation with the station. The remotes following them started firing full blast again, so she went back to full defense mode.
“Station countered our friendly status. Forcible entry planned. There may be some impulse; be ready to counter. Entry in five, four, three, two, go!”
Saree took her attention from her weapons long enough to compensate for the air blasting from the hole Ruhger’s crew of mercenaries just created. Too bad she didn’t have a weapons officer; that would make this a lot more survivable. That one minute and fifteen seconds carried a heavy price. “Command, Alpha shuttle shields to ten percent. Preparing to abandon ship. Will fall in with assault team.”
“Alpha shuttle, if abandoning ship, take over captured shuttle.”
“Copy, Command.” Saree breathed a sigh of relief. She wasn’t a close-quarters fighter like the assault team members. Piloting was a much better use of her abilities. Of course, the shields on that shuttle could go down too. Saree took the time to lock Alpha shuttle to the captured shuttle with a tractor beam and put her armor in vacuum mode for the transfer. Even though the tractor beam sucked some precious power away from Alpha shuttle’s shields, it also provided a physical barrier for the new shuttle. And she needed every advantage she could get—if they were going to live to fight another day.
#
RUHGER STALKED DOWN the passageway, looking for threats. There were fewer than he expected. Probably because the designers of this station didn’t consider the possibility of someone blowing a hole in it for access. Ruhger knew living beings died as a result and hated the necessity. Most likely, those beings were part of the problem, but they could be stuck here like so many other unfortunates, just trying to stay alive and out of the fight rings.
Saree’s transmission snagged his attention for a moment. Abandoning his home? Yes, he’d moved all his personal belongings out before they folded to Bonfanti Station, but still, it was home. He shuddered for a moment. Saree’s life was worth more than his home. But how was she getting out? Movement caught the corner of his eye; he turned and fired. Panels opened along the passageway, weapons firing from them. No time left. The bulkhead behind him opened.
Ruhger spun, caught and yanked the remote out of the hidden area behind the passageway, firing straight into the control mounted on the back of it. He ran into the hidden space, pulled his pistol and turned toward the control center. “Team, get behind the remotes, kill the controls.”
Jogging along, he fired into the unshielded back ends of the weapon remotes. Stupid design.
“Ruhger, Tyron.”
“Go, Tyron.”
“Know anything about Bonfanti Below?”
Blast and rad. Station Below was always territorial. Ruhger hadn’t even considered it, but of course Tyron did after his experience on Nexus Station. They didn’t need trouble from Above and Below. “No. Do you? Is there a separate entity? On a Familia station, wouldn’t they control Below?”
“Maybe. Guess we’ll find out.”
“Maybe they want to be free.” Ruhger could hope. Help would be nice. Necessary even, since their chances of getting out of this alive dropped with every second that ticked by.
“Either is possible. Too late now,” Tyron said.
“True.” Think about success, not failure. “Let’s take the fight to them.”
“Assault team, we’re seeing indications of massive numbers of remotes coming your way,” Weaver said. “Recommend retreat within two mikes.”
Tyron said, just to Ruhger, “Soon, there’ll be nothing left to retreat to. Press.”
Ruhger spoke to all of them. “Team, we’ve got to finish this now. Incoming.” Curses rang over the comms. “Cut the chatter. This is an all-out assault, or we’re done.” Ruhger let that penetrate for a moment. “Charge,” he roared.
#
“SAREE, KATRYN.”
“Go, Katryn.”
“The assault team is in trouble.”
“I know. So am I.” Saree kept changing the defenses and firing at the remotes.
“They can steal another shuttle if they live. If you take the shuttle to this location and fire here—” a map popped up “—then you can help them get in and more of them will live.”
Saree glanced at the map, but pushed it away. “I won’t live long enough to reach that location.”
“If I find you a weapons officer, could you do it then?” Katryn’s voice contained a frantic edge.
“Maybe. No guarantees. If I don’t keep firing and adapting the shields, this shuttle is dead soon. I’m probably dead soon no matter what.” If the station got one of the folders out there to fire on her, she’d be blasted to rads. But so would this part of the station.
“Stand by. If I find someone, you’ll have to air up. The airlock they used for the station assault is gone.”
“Understood.” No kidding. The shuttle hatch nearest the station was firmly shut, the indicators showing no atmosphere beyond. It was one of the first things she’d checked when she made it onboard. After she got over the nanosecond of pure shock at the outrageous decor. Credits didn’t buy taste. She returned to morphing shields and firing at remotes.
“Two of the other shuttles are almost done for,” Katryn said. “The pilots are coming your way.”
“Names?”
“Serge and Calhoun. I’m sending vid and DNA profiles.”
“Thanks.” I think. Saree pulled up the profiles Katryn sent. She’d be comparing them carefully. It would be better to go down shooting than live to fight in the rings. And if they found out what she could do? Horrifying idea.
Nine minutes and twenty-two seconds later, a text came to her e-torc. “Serge and Calhoun reporting as ordered.”
“Visuals and DNA required.” Saree opened the cargo bay airlock hatch and locked them in. The vids came up. Other than weariness and stress, they both matched their pics. After the computer checked their DNA, she let them in. “Grab seats, strap in tight, take the weapons.” She didn’t wait, but calculated the orbit to get them to the location Katryn specified. Before the computer was finished, Saree sent the first commands to the thrusters. She flew close to the station, keeping the partially destroyed shuttles tethered to her shuttle between her and the attacking remotes.
The computer suggested a refined orbit and she accepted it into navigation, scanning the close surveillance constantly, making sure she wouldn’t run into anything substantial. The two mercs ran the weapons like the pros they were—the only thing preventing them from taking out every remote was available power and weapons.
Saree pulled up the location Katryn gave her and checked it against Captain Ruhger’s location. Way too close. She had to contact him. She brought Serge and Calhoun into the voice comms. “Assault Team, Alpha shuttle.” Not that she was in Alpha shuttle anymore, but she didn’t remember—or care—what the name of this ridiculous pleasure palace shuttle was.
“Go, Alpha,” Ruhger grunted.
“Ready to fire; danger close.”
“Give me ten seconds at my mark. Fire for effect.”
“Copy.”
“Team, space support inbound, ten seconds. Fall back, full sprint, now!”
Saree pulled the station-side weapons from her weapons officers—they weren’t using them anyway—waited exactly ten seconds and fired full force. She prayed the team was clear. After five seconds of firing, she brought the vids up. A melted hole into the station, debris spewing.
“Assault Team, check in.”
Nothing. Saree’s stomach sank. What if they hadn’t cleared the area in time?
“Assault Team, check in.”
“Alpha shuttle, Assault Team,” Ruhger said, breathing heavily. “Fire again, fifty meters to our side. Too many remotes to fight off. Now!”
“Firing.” Saree fired as directed and didn’t look at Ruhger’s location indicator, knowing it would terrify her. The hole into the station grew to a trench.
“Assault Team, Alpha shuttle, stand by,” Weaver’s voice said. “Bonfanti is proposing a truce; we’re negotiating.”
Saree didn’t trust Bonfanti at all, but the remotes firing at their shuttle stopped. She sagged in her seat, relieved. Heavy sighs from the two beings behind her indicated they felt the same. But her relief lasted only seconds. How would they ensure Bonfanti didn’t double-cross them on their way out of the system? And what about PE, still out there? Why hadn’t they joined in the fight?
#
“WE NEED SOMEONE TO stay on Bonfanti, someone to take control, ensure we aren’t double-crossed,” Ridley said. “Or we need overwhelming firepower, like a military fleet, to provide us cover on our way out.”
Weaver said, “We also need Bonfanti Station’s weapons under our control to ensure Phalanx Eagle’s folder can’t take us out. PE is still thrusting for the nearest fold point. Or I believe that’s where they are going. I wish they’d respond to our requests for communications.”
Chief grumbled, “We should just take them out now.”
Ruhger raised a brow at him and Chief grimaced, nodded and slapped his axe handle into his palm. Several beings ducked at the crack of axe on flesh. “If they’re going to run, I’m not going to shoot them in the back, so to speak.”
“It’s a matter of time before they come after us again,” Chief muttered.
That might be true, but Ruhger wasn’t dropping down to Wreck’s level.
“Back to control of the station, maybe one of our merc team needs a new challenge? Or is there someone in the prison we could trust?” Tryon asked. “We definitely can’t trust the current Bonfanti leadership.” He jabbed a thumb over his shoulder at the beings sitting around a table in a conference room enclosed by clear plas, each one zip-tied to a chair. They’d been stupid to try and double-cross Ruhger and his team.
Ruhger surveyed all the worried beings, still nervous despite removal of the odious slave collars. As he’d asked, they did their jobs, but they watched the armed mercs anxiously. Most of the assault team was relaxed, happy to sit and recover, but some paced or prowled. Most were simply working off the battle-induced adrenaline, but a few of them seemed a little more on edge or had a predatory manner. Those beings kept Ruhger’s attention, but he tried to keep his surveillance covert.
Staying alert but relaxed wasn’t an easy balance to maintain right now. The battle was exhausting and the confirmation of Alpha shuttle’s destruction depressing. Keeping the Arena escape shuttle wasn’t much consolation, although the weaponry and shielding were top of the line. They’d recoup substantial credits on the ridiculous antique furnishings remaining if they could get them to the right market. Logically, the captured shuttle was a trade-up, but emotionally, it was a blow. Ruhger had moved all of his personal items out of Alpha shuttle, but they’d lost a century of souvenirs collected by his predecessors.
A request for voice comms came from Saree and he accepted it. “Go ahead, Saree.”
“Ruhger, I’m not sure how to bring it up, but can the negotiators ask about the fold frequency standard? I need to know why it’s perfectly in tune.”
Ruhger subvocalized his reply. “It’s a good question, but I’m not sure we can ask without giving too much away.”
“That’s why I’m asking you, not Weaver and Ridley. I was hoping you’d have some idea.”
Inspiration struck. “Send a text to Grant. He’s part of the negotiating team; see if he can work it in.”
“Good idea. Thanks.”
“You’re welcome. Ruhger out.” He smiled. Ruhger intellectually knew Saree had survived, but it was a relief to hear her voice. He’d be even happier to see her in person, but it was smart to leave her in the shuttle, ready to fly them out of here if some too-clever being restarted the remote weapons assault. The negotiating team made it clear to everyone that if it happened, they’d blow Bonfanti Station into space debris before they left.
“What if we reprogram some of their own weapons remotes?” Chief asked. “We could replace the controllers on some of the most powerful ones and leave them aimed straight at Station Control. I’m sure they’d be able to take them back over after we left, but Katryn should be able to secure a net to them long enough for us to get out of here, right?”
“That would help,” Weaver said. “We’d need to guard them against a manual assault like Ruhger made on the remotes outside the Control Center.”
Grant said, “Put a failsafe in the programming to turn them back over to Bonfanti a few hours after we leave. That should keep them from doing anything stupid.”
“How about a standard day?” Chief proposed. “Just in case.”
“Hours, days, a margin,” Grant said impatiently. “I’m the idea person; you tech-types figure out the details.”
Ruhger chuckled. Typical Grant. To give him some more suitable tasks, Ruhger sent him a message asking him to check on PE’s status. Why didn’t Spear One jump into the fight? They could have been the deciding factor in this battle and taken out Lightwave if they’d worked with Bonfanti Station. Although the question might be a better one for Katryn and her net warriors. It seemed odd, and even odder they simply thrusted for the fold point once the battle was over.
“Ruhger,” Katryn said, “the being at this location—” a map of the Control Center floor popped up “—is trying to counter our net defenses. Go put the fear of the Mother into them, would you?”
“Sure.” Ruhger stood, raised his rifle and pointed at the being Katryn spoke of. “You, step away from the console. Hands where I can see them.”
The merc closest to the being in question stepped in menacingly, pistol up. “Nice try, dummy. Don’t try anything stupid now.”
The being, a squat cylindrical bipedal being with yellowish skin, huge eyes, no visible nose and a wide mouth full of large square teeth, squeaked something while stepping back. It slumped, clearly dejected.
The being sitting next to him, a seemingly human female, her blond hair liberally salted with gray, said, “The Arena owners are threatening his family. There’s Arena enforcers on the dorm levels, targeting those of us with families.” She scowled. “Here’s a link to the vid outside the compartment and a map. Gonna do anything?” Defiance and fear warred on her face, already wrinkled with age and exhaustion.
Ruhger lowered his rifle. “Yes.” They’d anticipated some sort of attempt. He brought up his station map with the squad leaders tagged. “Delta Squad, tangoes here. Take them out.” He sent the station coordinates to the Delta Squad leader. “All Squads, Arena enforcers have been spotted. Terminate immediately.”
The woman nodded at him, but hope didn’t lighten her face. She knew they were leaving, and it wouldn’t go well for those of them captured here. He walked over to her and she cowered in her seat for second, then sat up defiantly. Ruhger asked, “I’m Ruhger. What’s your name?”
“Center Worker See Three Pee Oh,” she said, her face returning to the blank, slightly stupid look she’d worn before.
“That’s a designation. What’s your name?” Ruhger knew trust wouldn’t come easily, but he had a feeling if he could earn hers, it would be worth it. He sent a message to Katryn, asking her to look up this being’s record.
“We aren’t allowed names.”
Ruhger growled and the woman shrank back again. “Sorry, that’s not aimed at you. Of course you have a name. You’re a living being.”
“Goldie,” she said quietly.
Katryn requested voice comms and Ruhger accepted. He held up a finger to Goldie, asking her to wait.
“Ruhger, her official record is full of reprimands, rare enough that she didn’t get thrown in Arena prison, but often enough that suspicions of her being part of the underground resistance was in her file. She probably had one, maybe two more before she’d get thrown to the dogs. Beings around her got canned pretty often. So, she’s either leading them into resistance or a secret agent for the Bonfanti leadership or something else. Can you talk to her a little more while I dig into this resistance?”
“Sure, I can do that,” Ruhger said. “So, Goldie, tell me about the resistance, the group trying to overthrow Bonfanti’s leadership.”
Katryn sputtered, “That’s not what I meant!”
Meanwhile, shock crossed Goldie’s face, then morphed back to dull idiocy. “Resistance? There’s no resistance.”
“Sure there’s not.” Ruhger scowled. “In case you didn’t notice, we’re not big fans of Bonfanti’s leadership, the Arena or Bonfanti period. We are big fans of living. Now, you can either tell me about the resistance or we’ll blow the whole station to smithereens so we can fold out of here safely.”
“No! That’s thousands of good beings!”
Every being in the room turned to look at them. Ruhger stared down at her and spoke louder, so everyone could hear. “Then tell me what I want to know. Remember, we’re leaving; I don’t care about this place. I just want to get out of here without getting blown to bits by a station laser.”
“Fine.” She scowled. “Yes, there’s a resistance. We’re not very big or very successful. We have to be very cautious. We can only talk in person. Each of us only knows two other individuals in the resistance so we can’t give up too many if we get caught and drugged. Most of us have accepted inoculations of an agent that creates a usually-fatal allergic reaction to most truth drugs. Sometimes that agent kills us outright, so you have to be dedicated to the cause.”
“Or desperate.”
She grimaced. “Yes. Or desperate. There have been traitors desperate enough.”
“So, which are you?”
Goldie closed both eyes for a moment and then sighed. “Both.” A few exclamations sounded around the area. “Bonfanti put me up to infiltrating the resistance, but I’ve been double-crossing them. I know my family is probably dead no matter what I do.”
“I see. Do you know who the leader is?”
“The last leader I knew of died in the Arena.” Goldie held up a hand. “No, I didn’t turn her in. That being got thrown in the Arena too.”
Tyron called out from across the compartment, “These two beings confirm what Goldie says. They say she’s the resistance leader now. One of them says Goldie told him she was supposed to be a double agent, but he trusts her.”
Ruhger considered the whole mess. If Goldie was the resistance leader, could she be worse? He was making a big leap here, but if it got them out of here alive, it would be worth it. “Goldie, can you run this station?”
Her body slammed back in the seat, her face shocked. “I... I don’t know. Maybe.” She looked off at the bulkhead behind him, clearly lost in thought. “If I get access to everything including weapon remotes and all the people here, yes. And the chance to take out the remaining Bonfanti leaders.” She bared her teeth in a menacing grin, but she abruptly sobered. “But the Arena is controlled separately. There’s no connection between the two.”
Ruhger huffed, amused at his solution. “Can they be physically separated?”
Goldie blinked up at him. “Yes, they can.” She smiled, then grinned. “They certainly can. Easily.” The glee disappeared. “But there’s so many beings in the prison levels and there’s no way to know if they’re good or bad. They’re just trying to survive.”
“You could offer them the same deal, self-governance,” Ruhger said. “It might turn out very, very bad if the new being in charge is just as brutal as the last.” He shrugged. “We might be trusting the wrong person by leaving this station in your hands.” He snorted a little. “You could be just as horrible as the Arena owners. I have no way to know. But I’m willing to take the chance.” He gave her a challenging look. “Are you?”
He watched a look of determination settle over her. “I will be better. I may not be perfect and I may have to do some horrible things, but life will be better for most under my...command.”
“Not rule?”
“No.” She shook her head. “If I survive, we’ll figure out a way to make this work better for everyone.”
“I’m giving you the opportunity, Goldie. Don’t screw it up. Message your key team leaders, the people you trust. Send those names to me; we’ll get them up here and make sure their families are safe. You have an hour to plan the initial takeover and make the announcement. Give me someone who knows how to separate the Arena from the station and we’ll make it happen. The Arena situation probably won’t end well, but it’s a better chance than they have now.”
“An hour?” Goldie looked up at him incredulously.
Ruhger nodded.
She nodded back. “An hour. I can do this. I need...” Goldie trailed off and started muttering.
“Good plan, Ruhger,” Grant said. “Do you want me to work with her?”
“Yes, absolutely. The negotiation team is done.” He chuckled. “We’ve just negated the need for it.”
“You might want to find the fold controllers and ask them that other question.”
Other question? Ruhger had to think for a bit, then he remembered Saree’s concern about the perfect clock. “Good idea.” He scanned the compartment and the Control Center map. Hah. Ruhger walked over to the fold orbit controllers, gathered in one corner of the compartment. The two beings, one a human and another of the squat yellow beings, reacted almost identically to Goldie. Cowering, then defiant. But in their case, the cowering looked off, fake. They probably thought they were too important to the overall operation of Bonfanti to get rid of. “Gentles, I’m Ruhger. Your names?”
“I’m Balda and this is Groo.”
Interesting they had names, not simple designations. “So, Gentles, we noticed the accuracy of the clock when we folded in.”
Balda’s face froze.
“I’d like to know how that happens at a dark station with a piece of junk frequency standard.”
Groo meeped.
“What did he say?” Ruhger asked.
Balda opened his mouth, but Ruhger interrupted before he could speak. “And Gentle Balda, don’t lie to me about this or anything else. I can double-check everything you tell me.”
Balda’s mouth closed with a mutinous glare.
“Not answering isn’t a wise choice either,” Ruhger said softly, with a bit of menace. “Especially since I know who’s in charge after we leave. Do you know who that is?”
Balda shook his head and rolled his eyes. “The same Familia that’s always been in charge. Whatever you do, they’ll undo. Or the Arena goons will.”
Ruhger smiled, knowing it didn’t look like a smile. “Oh, no. That’s not going to happen. We’ve already put the pieces into motion. Now, do you want to be on the winning side, or the losing side? Despite what you seem to think, fold orbit control isn’t that hard. You’re replaceable.”
“No, I’m not. I know the secret and you don’t.” Balda looked smug.
Ruhger shook his head admonishingly. “I see you want to be on the losing side. Well, guess I’ll just solve that problem now.” His hand went to his pistol and both beings put their hands up.
“Wait! You win.” Balda slumped in his seat. “There’s this guy. He lives at the clock. He’s not right in the head, you know, one of those wierdos who’s only good at one thing?”
Ruhger glared at the man for daring to mock someone just for processing differently. But that’s how they were taught here. Ridiculous. “A savant, you mean?”
“Yeah, that’s the word.” Balda waved a hand, clearly unconcerned about belittling anyone. “Idiot savant. He can’t do anything but tune clocks. Out of tune frequency standards drive him nuts; he starts banging on the clock housing.” He chuckled. “He’ll bang his hands bloody. Anyway, the bosses put a room up at the clock, and there’s people who feed him and make sure he’s clean. And he tunes the clock.” Balda shrugged. “And if you try to take him away from ‘his’ clock, he starts screaming, then goes catatonic. So don’t even think about taking him.” Balda snorted. “It won’t work.”
Goldie walked up halfway through Balda’s rant. “Ruhger, Balda there is one of the beings I don’t want here. He’s Familia. Groo can run things just fine.”
“But you need me! Groo can’t even speak Trade!”
“But I can,” Groo said clearly, in a high squeaky voice. “I didn’t want to talk to you.” Groo turned to Goldie. “I got it. Can I pull in whoever I need? And we need to take care of George better. His nursemaids are Familia discards, screwups who treat him bad because they think it’s funny. I know some beings who will actually care about him.”
“You’ve got it, Groo. Get whoever you need. If we’re going to make this a commercially viable station for more than criminals, that clock will be a huge asset.” Goldie turned away, then spun back. “Make sure those Familia scum out there don’t know what’s going on, or they’ll turn George into a hostage.”
“I know exactly how to handle them.” Groo turned away and started poking at his holo.
Balda lunged for Goldie, but Ruhger intercepted him, gripping him around the neck and tearing off his e-torc. “Not a wise decision,” Ruhger said. He pulled zip ties from his pocket and fastened Balda’s hands behind his back, and got a good grip on his elbows. “Got an enforcement team yet?” he asked Goldie.
“Sort of. If you’d just sit him against the hatch over there, I’ll take care of it.”
Ruhger pushed the man forward.
“Hey, don’t space me!”
Ruhger stopped mid-stride and turned back toward Goldie and glared.
Goldie smiled. It wasn’t a nice smile. “Behave and I won’t have to.”
Balda slumped in Ruhger’s grip. Ruhger steered Balda over to the hatch and sat him down. “Stay there. Don’t move.” Maybe he’d been hasty putting Goldie in charge. He returned to her station.
She shook her head. “I’m not going to space anyone. But right now, it doesn’t hurt to let him think I might. I need all the advantages I can get until I get a grip on this station.”
Ruhger nodded at her and left her to it. He returned to his seat against the bulkhead and messaged Saree about the clock. If the Clocker, George, really was a savant, there wasn’t much she could do with that, was there? But at least Saree would know why the frequency standard was perfect.