Rowena had slept for most of the helicopter flight from New Mexico. They let her out of the van in front of the apartment building, and she tripped her way past Security and into the elevator, dragging her luggage. On the tenth floor she unlocked the apartment and stumbled in. It was dark, and she slowly made her way into the bedroom, where Ben lay curled up under the sheet, mumbling in his sleep.
She silently undressed and fell into bed to dream about slipspace and background voices in hundreds of languages.

She opened her eyes to see Ben staring into her face. "Morning," she smiled.
"Hi. Welcome home."
"Thank you. I'm scheduled to leave for London at noon."
"London?"
"Syndicate meeting. The High Council has agreed to fight most of the war as long as the Syndicate sends some troops."
"Shit. That means me, doesn't it?"
"I wouldn't be surprised." She rolled onto her back. "What time is it?"
"Seven," Ben told her, looking at his watch.
She faced him again, amused. "You're still home?"
"Of course I'm still home. I was supposed to see you two months ago. This damn war-"
"Shhh." Rowena put her finger to his mouth. "I've got to get up soon."

After a shower and a quick sandwich Rowena left again, on an I/O plane to London. On the way over she did some last-minute translating of some papers and contracts the High Council sent for the Syndicate. She had time for a quick nap before landing, and then was whisked off the the heart of London to see the Syndicate.
The six men accepted the High Council's conditions without much debate, and agreed to send all three Black Razor teams and a few other companies. The next two hours were spent arguing about whether or not Ben Santini should go with them. The ones for it declared that he was the best fighter I/O had, and the ones against said that he was also a good Director. "What do you think, Ms. Firedia?"
"The High Council wants three hundred troops," she reminded them. "I'm here to see that they get them. Who you send is not my business."

An hour and a half later, as the sun struggled its way through the window to rest cold and colorless on the table, the Syndicate came to a decision. Three Black Razor teams, seven Special Forces platoons, and ten teams of regular I/O troops would be sent to fight, led by Benito Santini. Rowena would take the Black Razors to Taera with her in two days, and a vessel would be sent for the rest upon her arrival. That was 320 human soldiers going to fight an interstellar war. They would be given rudimentary training in baerson technology, and then would be thrown into battle with a completely alien race. Few would return.

"What is this?"
Rowena had barely gotten in the door after her London trip. Ben sat on the couch holding up a piece of paper, looking unhappy, to say the least.
"What? Let me see." Putting her bags down, she took the paper from him. It was a fax informing him that he and his Black Razors would be leaving the planet and fighting the war. She looked back at him. "I'm sorry. I had no say in it."
Ben sighed. "I knew it. I knew they'd want me to go." He stood up. "I can't go. I'll just call Nigelson and tell him I can't do it. I've got a job here. I've got a life."
Rowena didn't move, but remained standing in front of the couch, holding the fax and watching her lover. He was afraid of nothing. It shook her to see him fidgeting with his fingers and staring, distressed, out the window.
He faced her again. "Why didn't you say something?"
"It's not my business to say who goes, Ben. I was just there to make sure we got the people."
"Shit. Can't you do anything? What about the High Council?"
"What difference does it make to them, Ben? They just want people to fight."
Ben turned again and leaned on the table. There was a long moment of silence where even the sounds of the city below them were muffled. Then he spoke again - softly, so that she barely heard him. "I'm gonna die up there, Rowena."

At the Roswell base Rowena finished cleaning out her ship while the thirty Black Razors prepared to leave the planet. She led them on board until the Saenaron was packed. She put most of them in the two back private rooms, but let Ben sit up in the cockpit with her. As the ship left the atmosphere she gave control to the artificial intelligence and sat back to wait for the ship to be far enough away from the planet to enter slipspace.
The door opened slowly and one of the Razors, a woman, came into the cockpit. Ben turned around. "Yes, Miller?" The stress and the repressed fear made him sound annoyed.
"Permission to speak, sir," the woman said in a stiffly conversational tone.
"Granted."
The woman relaxed a little bit and faced Rowena. "We wanna know where we're being sent." Her face had no expression, and she spoke as if she could care less where they were going, but everybody else wanted to know.
"I don't know," Rowena admitted. "I'm taking you to Taera for training, and after that it's out of my hands. I'm just a diplomat."
"Why are we going?"
Rowena turned to Ben. "They don't know?"
He shook his head. "I don't, really."
"Leela, let me know before we enter slipspace," she addressed the AI in Baersonnis. The screen of the terminal flashed with an affirmative reply and she stepped past Miller. "Come with me," she said to the two behind her.

The Black Razors crowded around Rowena, anxious to hear their fate. Most of them stood shoulder to shoulder, wall to wall. The lucky ones sat on the bed, and even the toilet. Rowena had her tiny spot near the door and the computer terminal so that she would know if something went wrong and when the Saenaron was about to enter slipspace. The Black Razors kept as respectful a distance from her as possible, and the only sound was her voice and the humming of the ship as they strained to listen to her.
"You know there's a war," she said. "A race of slavers has threatened Earth, and since you don't have the technology to fight them yourselves, the Taerian Council has agreed to send their own troops and equipment, provided Earth sends at least three hundred troops. You're the first of those, and when we get back I'll have a ship sent for the rest."
"So we're gonna be fighting in deep space," said Miller.
"I know nothing of where or how you'll be fighting."
The terminal beside her began to flash.

Preparing to enter slipspace

"Wait until I give the word," Rowena told the AI, and turned back to the Black Razors. "In a moment we're going to enter slipspace. I want you all to remain calm. It'll only last a few seconds."
"What can be so bad about it?" a man asked.
"Hopefully nothing. It's a strange experience, and some people have problems with it, but you all should be fine." Ben followed her back to the cockpit. As they sat down he looked at her. "Should they be secured in or anything?"
"No. It'll be okay. Leela?"

Yes?

"Enter slipspace."
A white hole seemed to open before them, and the ship was sucked into it. Ben felt dizzy. His fingers seemed to be floating away from his hands, and likewise everything looked detached inside the ship. This lasted a few seconds, and the Saenaron was ejected back into space. Eyes closed, he moaned, "What was that?"
"That was slipspace. A wormhole."
"You do that all the time?"
"Yeah. Are you okay?"
Ben nodded. "I'll be fine. I'd better go check the-" He stopped. Having opened his eyes he saw for the first time the four orbs that hung in space before them, almost completely filling the front window. "Is that it?" he asked in a hushed voice.
"M-hm." Rowena pointed to the largest one, to the left side of the window. "That's Taera. And that-" as smaller sphere coming around the side of the planet- "is Lem, and the one right there-" another moon, looking farther away from the planet- "is Aeon. And the huge copper-colored one right there is Selaenzemaine."
"Wow."
The door burst open. "What the hell was that?" A black man about Ben's age was standing in the doorway. "Marcois' in there pukin' his guts up."
"Slipspace," Rowena said. "We're in another part of the galaxy now."
The man gaped at her for a moment and slowly his eyes turned to the view in front of them. "What the-"
"It'll be a couple hours. Is everyone okay in there?"
"Yeah," he gawked.
"Kaltzman," Ben said.
Kaltzman snapped to attention. "Yes, sir."
"Make sure Marcois' gonna be okay in there, and tell everyone to sit tight for a few hours."
"Yes, sir!"

We are entering the Taerian atmosphere. In an hour we will land at the Heln base, and the humans will begin their training. Councillor Kiriam will be there to teach them Baersonnis. I have sent the base information and directions to get the remaining troops from Earth, and a ship will leave for them within the hour. The ship's AI, Durandal, requests the identification code.