They emerged from the airlock to find the first group staring in wonder at the felisian ship; a long, cigar shape twice the length of the Jules Verne and looming a mere dozen yards or so away from the Tharian ship. There was a circular opening in the hull, presumably the airlock, illuminated by a circle of lights around it that spilled illumination onto the surrounding hull. The rest of the ship was lit only by the ruddy red light of Derro, now the only sun in the sky. Thomas looked around for Tharsol, but they were now so far from it that it was just another star, indistinguishable from the rest. He could see half a dozen that might have been the friendly yellow sun of his homeworld. The graphic indication of just how far they were from home made him shudder.

Matthew had been briefed previously on what to do, and was already pushing himself away from the Jules Verne. One end of a length of rope was in his hand. The other end was tied to the railing. Thomas saw that the surface of the silver ship was covered by dozens of recessed handholds, sized for hands twice the size of the largest human. Many of them were clustered around the airlock, and when the flight leader bumped into the alien ship he grabbed hold of one of them and tied the rope to it. The two ships were now linked by rope, and the soldier pulled himself back along it, showing the others, most of whom had never spacewalked before, how they were to reach the silver ship.

To reinforce the demonstration Thomas went across first, having done this before, while Matthew remained behind to send the others across one at a time. He would be the last to cross, once all the others had safely made it.

The felisian airlock was three times the size of the Jules Verne's, and he could see to his relief that there was easily enough room for all of them. Good. He wouldn't have to spend another painful few minutes alone with Saturn. There was no gravity inside. He suspected that there was no gravity anywhere in the alien ship, but the inside walls had plenty of handholds and he grabbed one to stop himself drifting around the chamber and perhaps back out into space.

The others came across one at a time. Timothy first, then the two junior soldiers, looking unhappy and nauseous as if holding their food down by sheer act of will. Saturn was next, and Thomas squeezed himself into the corner to keep out of his way, keeping his eyes on Matthew so that it wouldn't look as if he were afraid to look at the older wizard.

It took just a few minutes longer for the rest to come over. It was Parcellius who took the longest, clearly afraid and unhappy and struggling to keep himself under control. His robes waved around as he pulled himself across hand over hand, and several times they wrapped themselves around his head, forcing him to stop while he sorted himself out. Finally, though, they were all across and Matthew untied the rope before pulling the door closed behind him. Later, someone would gather up the rope and take it back inside the Jules Verne, ready for the next time it was needed.

The inner door had no window, but beside it was a square panel on which strange symbols appeared and moved around. Writing in some alien language, put there by some form of natural philosophy that no Tharian could hope to understand. Parcellius was entranced by it, though, and stared at the symbols, touching the panel with his calloused, chemical stained fingers and finding it as smooth as glass. The symbols seemed to be nothing more than changes in the colour of the metal, if it was metal, and Thomas saw the alchemist's brow furrow as he tried to work out what compounds and formulae might accomplish such a trick. I bet he's happy he came now, thought Thomas with a mental grin.

They gradually became aware that sound was returning, and soon they were able to talk again, their voices strangely tinny and muted at first but returning to normal as the air pressure rose. Then the inner door opened with a hiss of inrushing air and the felisian Saturn had seen in the scrying mirror was floating there, holding onto one of the handholds that also littered the interior of the ship.

"Welcome aboard the Bescot," he said, pulling himself aside and gesturing for them to enter. "I am Tager Yee, commander of this ship. I hope you encountered no difficulty in your crossing."

"None at all," replied Saturn, and Thomas was amused to see that he was having difficulty keeping his orientation in the zero gravity. His legs kept trying to get out from under him. He spoke a word, though, and suddenly he dropped lightly to the ground, suddenly under the influence of gravity again. He spoke another string of tonguetwisting syllables and he rose again, levitating against the gravity he'd just created, this time fully in control of himself. His composure and dignity restored.

The spells worked only for him, though. Everyone else was left floating weightless, holding tightly to the handholds while their hair floated around their heads like seaweed in a slow current. Bloody typical, thought Thomas in annoyance. I bet he could have provided gravity for everyone if he wanted. He just likes to put on a show of superiority.

Tager Yee watched the wizard with amazement, struggling to maintain the composure his rank and position demanded. "Impressive," he remarked. "This magic of yours is truly a wonderful thing. With such powers at your command, I wonder why you fear the Rossemian Shipbuilders so much. What chance would they have against people like you?"

"The Shipbuilders are also magic users," the wizard replied, positioning himself a little above the felisian so that the Captain had to look up at him. The felisian, however, merely rotated his body backwards so that, from his point of view, the wizard was below him. Thomas saw Saturn scowling in annoyance and turned his head to hide a smirk.

"And they are much more talented in the art than we are," Saturn continued. "We may once have had individuals who could have matched them, but no more. The art of magic has declined in recent centuries, and is only now beginning to recover somewhat."

"If you represent magic in decline, then I can only wonder what it must have been in its heyday," said the felisian. He gestured towards the rear of the single open space that filled the ship. "I suggest you place your people back there, where they won't get in the way of my crew. I ask only that they avoid touching the yellow areas of the wall. They contain instruments and controls that affect the running of the ship."

"We will be careful," promised Saturn. "How long will the voyage to eighty one stroke five take?"

"If we travelled at full acceleration, just a couple of hours, but we will be proceeding slowly, to demonstrate our peaceful intent to any surviving inhabitants. We will take a full twenty four hours to make the journey."

"Is that how you proceeded on your first visit to this world?" asked Saturn.

"No, we proceeded at full speed. We had no idea then that there was anything dangerous here."

"Then that is how you will proceed now. To move more slowly might give the impression of furtiveness, as if we were hoping to approach unseen."

"That is unlikely. With the instruments we possess we can spot a ship millions of miles away no matter how fast or slowly it is moving, and they must have instruments equally as good to have spotted your ship on its first approach."

"Nevertheless that is how we will proceed. We will copy your first approach in every way. Where you went, that is where we will go, and how fast you went, that is how fast we will go. I hope that is understood."

"Perfectly," replied the felisian stiffly. "I will give the order." He nodded politely to the wizard, then pushed himself away to float towards the other felisians.

"If they do shoot at us," muttered Thomas to Matthew, "this ship has no defences. No magical sphere of invulnerability, no ability to turn ethereal. We'll be a sitting duck."

"We'll be okay," replied the soldier. "Saturn wouldn't be risking his precious life if he thought it wasn't safe. Besides, we can always teleport back to the Jules Verne if things turn nasty, can't we?"

"If it's in the same universe as us," agreed Thomas. "If it hasn't come under attack as well and been forced to retreat back to our own universe. I'm not happy about this."

"You're just letting Saturn get to you. He knows the situation as well as you do, and yet here he is, not in the least bit worried. Relax, we'll be okay."

Thomas gave him a worried smile of gratitude.

Tager Yee was swimming back to them, and they fell silent to hear what he had to say. "The portal will be opening onto universe eighty one in just a few minutes, and we will move the moment it does. Prepare yourself for acceleration."

"How do we do that?" asked Matthew.

The felisian indicated the handholds. "Just hang on tight. We will be experiencing about a gravity of acceleration..."

"A what?" asked the soldier in bewilderment.

"You will experience gravity about as strong as on the surface of our world, in that direction." He indicated the rear of the ship. "You will need to hang onto the handholds or you will fall. Perhaps you would prefer to move towards the rear of the ship, so there's not as far to fall if you lose your grip."

Matthew was beginning to get it. "There's nothing to stand on?" he asked, sounding worried."

These ships weren't designed that way. The Masters were quite happy to cling to the walls, it seems, and we manage quite well also. Besides, flat decks would just get in the way when we're weightless. If you have difficulties, you may lie in the hammocks. They're stowed in there." He indicated a row of cabinets bolted to the wall behind him.

"Thank you, but we'll manage," said Saturn, giving Matthew a warning glance. "I'm sure we can cope for one hour."

Easy for him to say, thought Thomas. He can just go on levitating for the whole trip. He said nothing, though, and watched as Matthew organised the men, taking them to the rear of the ship as suggested and making sure they all had firm hand and foot holds. "I think we're ready," he said, looking over the others one last time.

Thomas nodded down at him, he being higher up than the others, trusting in his Autumnleaf ring in case he fell. Drenn adjusted his sword so that it sat more comfortably against his leg.

"Very good," replied Tager Yee. "We will be going slowly at first, while we pass through the portal, and speeding up once we're through."

He turned and gave instructions to his men at the front end of the ship, one of whom touched a spot on the wall with the tip of a clawed finger. Thomas saw nothing there that might respond to his touch. It was just a bare patch of hull plating, distinguished only by squares and circles of lighter and darker colour. The lighter circle he'd touched immediately turned dark, though, and symbols in the Masters' language appeared around it. At the same time a wide section of the hull became transparent. It caused the wizards no concern as they were well used to such effects, produced by magic spells, as were Drenn, Matthew and Timothy, but Parcellius gave a hiss of indrawn breath and the two junior soldiers stared in fearful wonder.

The transparent section of hull showed a section of sky filled with stars and wispy strands of nebulae, but as the felisians activated other controls the ship slowly turned until the ghostly red disc of the portal appeared ahead of them. Finally, the felisians activated the ship's propulsion systems, and the interior of the ship, which the Tharians had thought of as horizontal, gradually became a vertical shaft, with a pointed ceiling high above them and a gaping hole under their feet as a little weight began pulling them downward.

Soon, they were hanging lightly by their handholds and looking for places to put their feet so that they could stand comfortably, as if on a ladder. The 'window' was now above them, and as they craned their necks painfully back to look through it they saw the portal growing until it filled the whole sky. A moment later it vanished abruptly. They were through, in universe eighty one.

The scene in the window changed abruptly, showing the portal again, and they saw the spherical white bulk of the Jules Verne following them through. Unlike the Bescot, though, which continued moving away, the Jules Verne remained by the portal, ready to duck back through if danger threatened.

"They're hailing us," said one of the felisians, and Tager Yee gestured for him to put them through. The window suddenly showed Captain Strong, using the communications device the felisians had given them. Tassley Kimber was sitting beside him in Saturn's chair, and on his other side was Lirenna. Thomas was delighted. Bridge duty at last! he thought. She's finally got her chance to show what she can do.

"This is as far as we go," said the Captain. "Good luck, and we hope to see you again soon."

Lirenna, meanwhile, was searching for Thomas, and when they saw each other their faces both lit up in expressions of delight. The demi shae gave a careful little wave, trying not to be noticed by the Captain, and Thomas gave an equally careful wave back, not wanting to be seen by Saturn. Each was seen by the one the other was trying not to be seen by, though, and while Strong suppressed a smile, Saturn frowned in annoyance.

"We hope that also," replied Tager Yee. "May this mission bring the results you hope for."

Strong nodded, and his face vanished, being replaced by the stars again.

"We will now begin our journey to the planet," said the felisian, speaking for his Tharian passengers, and then he gave orders to his men in the growling, mrowling felisian language. The ship came to a dead stop in space and began turning until a bright star appeared in the centre of the window. A star that could only be the planet they'd come to visit. "Prepare for acceleration," Tager Yee said. "One gravity." The crewman touched the controls, and weight began to return.

This time it didn't stop at the low level they'd felt before but built and built until they were feeling as heavy as they did back of Tharia. They were now clinging to the walls like flies, all except Saturn who remained floating serenely in the centre of the ship, gazing sardonically at the lesser beings all around him.

"That is it," said Tager Yee. "We now have about an hour until we reach the turnover point."

The Tharians nodded and held on tighter, trying not to look down at the hard drop beneath them.