"'Incubation and Gestation of Android?. .!"
Kieron of Valkyr stood in the silent, wrecked laboratory of the dead warlock Geller, his medieval mind trying to break free of the bondage of a millennium of superstition and ignorance. He understood now… many things.
VI
Like great silver fish leaping up into the bowl of night, the ships of the Valkyr fleet rose from Kalgan. Within the pulsing hulls five thousand warriors rode, ready for battle. Against the mighty forces of the assembled star-kings,
the army of Valkyr counted for almost nothing; but the savage fighting men of the Edge carried with them their talisman — Alys Imperatrix, uncrowned sovereign of the Galaxy, Heiress to the Thousand Emperors — the daughter of their beloved warrior-prince, Gilmer, conqueror of Kaidor.
In the lead vessel, Nevitta dogged the harried Navigators, urging greater speed. Below decks, the war chargers snorted and stomped the steel decks, sensing the tension of the coming clash in the close, smoky air of the spaceships.
Kieron stood beside the forward port with Alys, looking out into the strangely distorted night of space. As speed increased, the stars vanished and the night that pressed against the flanks of the hurtling ship grew grey and unsteady. Still velocity climbed, and then beyond the great curving glass screen there was nothing. Not blackness, or emptiness. A soul-chilling nothingness that twisted the mind and refused to be accepted by human eyes. Hyper-space.
Kieron drew the draperies closed and the observation lounge of the huge ancient liner grew dim and warm.
"What's ahead, Kieron?" the girl asked with a sigh. "More fighting and killing?"
The Valkyr shook his head. "Your Imperium, Your Majesty," he said formally, "a crown of stars that a thousand generations have gathered for you. That lies ahead."