Nine years have passed on Earth since Sabrina and Scotty Devon returned from Praxatillus. A surprise visitor to Sabrina's office turns out to be Miahn, sent to retrieve the Devons to deal with the disappearance of Maratobia, Tirqwin, and Khediva. As...
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Ford (Niavar, Prince of Bathir) by D. Denise Dianaty
Sabrina felt recklessly exhilarated as she and Ford emerged into the rain. "Well, I won't be getting any job references out of them!"
He grinned at her. "It was a very neatly executed escape, I thought."
"Thank you, Prince Niavar."
"No, keep calling me Ford, please. I really prefer it. My friends on Praxatillus call me Var, but Ford has a more exotic sound to it, don't you think?"
"Not if you're American," Sabrina replied. "Where's your ship?"
"In orbit. The transport capsule's just a block from here, in an alley. Will it take us long to collect your brother?"
"I don't know. I've never tried to 'collect' him before."
"You are suddenly in a good mood," he remarked curiously. "Don't you realize we're heading into a very bad situation?"
Sabrina laughed. "Of course we are!" she said. "But—I'm going home! Oh, I never realized how tied down I felt here. Or how much I miss them all! But I'm going to see them again now, and I don't care what I have to deal with to do it."
He looked at her even more curiously, then shook his head. "You are definitely not what I expected."
Sabrina laughed again. "Good," she said. ———————— The transport capsule, tucked away in a dim alley, was not what she expected. It was a plain white cabinet, about a meter square, with no distinguishing marks at all. She couldn't even tell where the entrance was until Ford laid his palm on the near wall. It swung outward, and she peered inside suspiciously. "This doesn't look like any transport capsule I've ever—"
"Miss Devon, do come along," Ford urged. "I haven't time to explain it to you. We mustn't be discovered. Besides, it will all make sense to you when you see my ship—or at least it should."
Sabrina's indignant reply was cut off as he pulled her into the capsule and laid his palm against the control panel set into the far wall. The door swung closed, a dim illumination became visible, and there was the almost-forgotten, nauseating moment of nonbeing that Sabrina was no longer used to. Then the door swung open again of its own accord, and Ford pushed past the transfixed Sabrina.
"This is—is this a Wayship?" Sabrina gasped as she stepped onto the control deck from the capsule. "Hello, Ship? Permission to come aboard?"
"No, it's not a Wayship," came the impatient reply. "But it's designed to emulate one, in the important respects. Without the inconveniences."
"Are you a Wayfarer, then? No, how could you be? Unless—no, Mara would never—" Sabrina said, confused. "But Homeworld wouldn't allow—"
"I am an exception to many rules," Ford informed her. "But we must get to business. I've been sent here by Prime Minister Rassir and Commander Mukryilla to request your assistance, and that of your brother."
