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constructed close to one hundred space cannons that were now located throughout their solar system. Most were perched on satellite moons, but some also free-floated in space. Just one of the gigantic weapons could annihilate a trespasser ship. Leon knew the access codes, which allowed any given ship a free pass without harassment. And that’s how he’d gotten himself into this present fix.
    Leon actually liked the Tromian people. They didn’t deserve this … whatever this was. Probably a raid, one he’d be responsible for. He pushed feelings of guilt from his mind and tried to concentrate on the hovering hologram at the center of the bridge. They had just entered the Alchieves solar system and were approaching the first access point. Within seconds, the Pharlom destroyer would be hailed. If the access code relayed back wasn’t correct, this ship, and others in this fleet of eighteen, would be fired upon.
    Leon debated if he should just go ahead and give them an incorrect code … let the pieces fall as they may. Hell, perhaps the Pharloms’ shields could fend off an inevitable, retaliatory bombardment. Not likely … Leon never heard of ships surviving Tromian cannon fire, once unleashed.
    And now was the time—the communications officer was informing the Grand Overseer of the incoming hail. The timer had been initiated. He would have less than forty-five seconds to enter the proper nine-digit code.
    “You will provide the code now, human,” the Grand Overseer ordered.
    Leon stared back at the Pharlom leader. He, like other Pharloms, was big and imposing. Like brown-colored stone men, they all wore black and had armor plating secured over their chest, lower torso, and upper thighs. Their hands, their most human-looking aspect, held a cluster of eight fingers—digits—and like the rest of their physiology’s makeup, was more mineral-based than fleshy. Their every movement produced the sound of stone grating against stone. That sound, multiplied times ten as the bridge crew constantly moved about, was getting beyond irritating.
    At twenty-six, Leon felt he had a good many years ahead. He certainly was not ready to die, either at the hands of these raiders, or by Tromian cannon fire. He stood and walked around the bridge perimeter to the communications officer. He leaned over and began entering the code onto a touchpad device. He had this, the first access point code, memorized. Actually, he had the code for every access point memorized—each of the ten different sets of geometric symbols. Once the last symbol was entered, a return Tromian transmission indicated they’d received clearance to proceed.
    Leon knew the next challenge for the Pharloms would be staying hidden from Tromian sensors. He’d be surprised if they weren’t detected already.
    “Eighteen ships won’t go undetected from this point on, Grand Overseer,” Leon said, as he returned to his oversized chair, back on Mangga’s left.
    “Yes. We most definitely have been detected.”
    “Then the rest of the codes won’t help you … they’ll lock us out,” Leon said, suddenly feeling uneasy.
    “We only needed access into the solar system … this first set of codes. The only ones we did not possess. I thank you for your help in that regard. Now … no more of your services will be required.”
    “But how will you—”
    The Grand Overseer cut him off, sounding annoyed. “I suggest you not speak, nor bring further attention to yourself. Remember, you are our guest here … cause problems and you’ll be eliminated.”
    Leon sat back and kept his mouth shut. The center hologram was active—showing various planets and moons and, strangely, the all too quiet floating cannon platforms—moving past them in the silence of space.
    The only thing Leon could come up with was he’d given them an additional few moments for the element of surprise. It seemed a lot of trouble for all the effort. Truthfully, he didn’t know what these people thought …