The Aertimus H. Bass rode a tightly-wound wave of spatial distortion at an effective speed of nearly one million times the speed of light. Lauryna Gwenn had been told to keep it under max speed during shakedown, so the Bass was currently holding at Warp 9.8, which in her defense was technically below its max rated speed of Warp 9.9.

“Time check, Commander?” Lauryna asked. She could see it herself, of course, the estimated time was displayed on the screen in the arm of her chair. She asked more for the bridge crew’s benefit than her own.

“Five minutes until we drop speed. One hour, five minutes until we enter the planetary system,” Riases said. “Drop team two is ready.”

“Excellent.”

“Ma’am, permission to ask a question?”

Lauryna looked over her shoulder at the woman manning the weapons station. “I know the question you’re going to ask, Ms. Segdi. I need One Team’s leader at weapons.”

“I understand, ma’am, but I will vouch for Mr. Grrhubzrg’s leadership.”

“I can’t fault you for speaking up for your team,” Lauryna said. “But this is not an operation I want a silver-square leading. That said, we do have One Team up and ready in case Two Team needs assistance, and they will.”

“Thank you, ma’am,” the young woman said. “I just….”

“Commander Riases,” Lauryna said, “can you brief Ms. Segdi in the meeting room?”

Riases had served with Lauryna Gwenn literally from the start of her own career; Gwenn had been her department head way back on the Tez Magilna. And later, of course, her captain. She didn’t have to ask Lauryna what exactly she needed to brief the young weapons officer about.

“Aye, ma’am. Ms. Segdi, with me. Mr. Icheme, take weapons.”

Trenna Segdi was momentarily taken aback. She stepped away from the controls, and followed the ship’s executive officer to the meeting room off the bridge.

“Sit down, Trenna,” Xianara Riases said, taking a seat at the head of the table.

“I’m sorry, ma’am, I didn’t mean….”

“Captain Gwenn meant what she said, Trenna,” Xianara said. “She wants leads to stick up for the people under their command. She is not upset at you for that, nor am I.”

“Then what….”

“Ms. Segdi,” Riases said, “we have not announced this, as there is still hope…but not much. Based on the report from Crewmate Zery, we know that Crewmate Olthympo is almost certainly dead, and that Mr. Larisin’s wounds were severe. Given their status, we do not believe that either survived; if they did, they will likely be incapacitated for some time.”

Segdi swallowed. “Gods….Paxes guide them safe, Aerea find them worthy.”

“So say we all. Ms. Segdi, Mr. Larisin and Crewmate Olthympo were the two seniormost officers in the security detail. There are several who are relatively even after them…including you. If Shagda and Utti are not able to resume their duties, you will be breveted to Senior Crewmate, Third Class, and you will be taking over as chief of security. While we will not be granting you this title until we must, consider yourself as acting in that role until you are told otherwise.”

“That’s not the way I hoped to get promoted, ma’am,” Segdi replied.

“No, but it’s the way a lot of us are gonna be. Understand that you aren’t being promoted by random chance, or because of Krator-Imperator Segdi; your mother is a fine officer in her own right, but Captain Gwenn and I have served with a lot of fine officers whose children were no great shakes. We wouldn’t disrespect our fallen comrades by promoting someone in whom we lacked faith.”

“I appreciate that, ma’am. And ma’am…if I’m taking this role, even just for now…I concur with the decision of you and the captain, Two Team under Cytag is as good as One Team under me…and likely better than One Team under Mr. Grrhubzrg.”

“Thank you, Ms. Segdi. We will discuss your role further when we have time. For now…we’d best get back. The bugs aren’t going to wait for us to have a nice chat.”

“No, ma’am,” Trenna said, “I don’t suppose they will.”

* * *

“Well,” Vif said, “it could be worse.”

“It could be worse? Really?”

Sibel Abidilidi’s skepticism was understandable. While the capsules of the Rusely were intact, with life support systems in good working order, the engine had been taken apart; someone had been scavenging the ships in the port, looking for useful equipment. Might have been the bugs, might have been someone trying to get off Hive Prime; didn’t much matter. What mattered was that pieces of the power systems for the Rusely were scattered around the ship on the ground.

Stauseo looked over his shoulder at Sibel. “Yes. It could be a lot worse. They didn’t get very far at disassembling the engine housing. It looks bad, but it’s mostly cosmetic. Maybe an hour, we can have it back and repaired enough to fly. That’s the nice thing about the Jona class. They’re designed for a pilot to put back together on his own, at least to get you to the next system.”

“There’s a reason smugglers love these,” Vidol said, surveying the damage.

“Yes, there is,” Vif said with a grin. “You don’t want to have to pull in for repairs at Vorsha Station if you’re running something you shouldn’t. Won’t be the most stable flight, not without a dorsal polaron limiter, but you’ll have time to clean the puke once you impound it.”

“If it flies, I’m happy,” Mpola said, sitting down heavily.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Sibel asked.

Mpola was not okay. Lattice gel, a splint, and adrenaline had held her leg together long enough to get them here, but her leg was wounded far beyond what they could repair long-term; a mix of blood and long-chain nanofibers now bound her muscles directly to her trousers. She didn’t envy the doctor who had to tease them apart, and if they told her that it was easier to take the leg off below the knee, she wouldn’t argue.

She had to pause, every few minutes, to catch her breath and force herself to ignore the pain. But if they didn’t get into space, it wouldn’t matter. There’d be no pain, or anything else. So she grimaced, but said, “I’ll be fine. Go check with Nasti to see what she needs in the cockpit.”

Sibel was a civilian, but she had become very used to following Mpola’s orders. She nodded. “Let me know if you need a hand,” she said.

“So,” Vif said, as he bolted down a synthetic reaction injection port, “how do we do this once we get out of here? Do I go into the brig right away? I’d ask for a barrister, but you have enough to convict me. Trial on Azatlia?”

“I have been thinking about that, Mr. Stauseo,” Mpola said. “There won’t be a trial, I don’t think; it would waste your time and mine. I intend to enter an official judgment on your case, as it falls under my purview as an Imperator. If you are willing to assist us in getting off this rock, and willing to help us understand the connections between smugglers and the Hive, I may be able to simply place you on managed release.”

“I can’t turn on my teammates,” Vif said, pulling a handful of wires free.

“I’m not asking you to. My goal is to win this war. What happened before…happened in peacetime. What we would be asking would not jeopardize any existing jobs.”

“Right. We’ve heard that kinda thing before. Hand me that magnatomic compensator, would ya?”

Vidol handed Stauseo the part. “Smuggling isn’t something the Imperators Corps worries much about, you know.”

“You have a funny way of showing it.”

“I’m not saying the military turns a blind eye to it. And if you’re foolish enough to fly into Titan Station with a hold full of contraband, frak yes, you will be arrested. But we Imperators don’t worry about it too much, as long as it isn’t anything dangerous or evil. Run Dunnermac roe or translation matrix scanners…well, do that and you might not survive the inspection. But what you did? If I had been told you were coming in with your ship loaded with tech you had, I wouldn’t have done anything about it, save track your ship to see if there was any useful information that could be gleaned from your travels. Some smuggling will always happen. The universe is very large, and there’s no way we can stop it, so we focus our resources where they will do the most good, stopping the truly vile and dangerous.”

Vif grunted. “I suppose. If you guys really wanted to stamp out smuggling, you’d just follow Jona classes around. You’d be bound to find a smuggler every other time.”

“Exactly. So believe me when I say that I don’t really care about your crime. I have to enforce the law, of course. I can’t ignore your confession, and I have a feeling once I get on the ship there will be further evidence I can’t ignore. But if you give me a reason to let you down easy, I will.”

“Why?” Vif said. “I’m not saying I’d rather do time on Rura Penthe or Rura Gastu, but why would you do that?”

“A couple of reasons. First, Imperators are sworn to defend the Emperor, and do Justice in His name. Not to punish – to do Justice. I do not think Justice is served by you going to Gastu or Penthe or Deep Seven. And second…you and I have something in common.”

“What’s that?”

“Neither of us want to see anything bad happen to one of our crew. And for me, that includes you.”

Vif paused, and looked up from his work. “The log decryption code is Yay-Hoth-Upsilon-Upsilon-Four. You go over the logs for the past eight months, you’ll get a very clear picture. If anyone asks, I’d appreciate if you could say Imperial intelligence cracked it.”

“Since I’m Imperial intelligence, that is essentially true,” Vidol said. “I sentence you to two years’ monitored release. Now, let’s get this bucket of scrap up and running so you can enjoy it.”

“Happy to oblige, Imperator. Happy to oblige.”

* * *

“Any action on the scopes?” Ahek asked, as she brought the Nine around on another wide loop.

“24, No joy, Nine. Maybe they’ve bugged out.”

“Twelve, Jerome, that pun might be bad enough to deserve a court martial. No joy, Nine.”

“26, no joy, I don’t…oh…bugged out – took me a moment.”

“Nine Mr. Nallapati, Ms. I has enough on her plate, stop bugging her with terrible puns.”

“Twelve, ma’am…don’t make me come over there.”

“Nine, fair enough. Keep circling. Get your tubes out and grab some hydration and calories. And remember, your suits are absorbent for a reason. But keep your eyes open, I do not trust for a second that we’re clear of pests.”

Ahek took her own advice. The nutritive gruel they had available was horrid, but you could choke it down, and they didn’t have time to fix themselves a roast boar. The running joke among the pilots was that they fed it to you to motivate you. Nobody wanted that to be their last meal.

She frowned. She was glad, at least, that Isra and Fatou had been able to get some of the Titan rations for theirs.

“Acolyte Nine, Colonel Uɉa, this is Vidol,” her radio crackled.

“Ma’am?”

“We’re hoping to lift in 25 minutes. We’re about to attempt restart of the ship’s reactor. We’ll give you a head’s up at five minutes to launch.”

“Yes, ma’am. Still nothing moving, but we’re keeping a sharp watch. I don’t trust them.”

“You shouldn’t,” Mpola said, easing into the co-pilot’s seat. “Good hunting. Okay,” she said, closing the channel, “Vif, go ahead and light the fire.”

The Rusely shuddered, as Stauseo flipped a switch, bringing the power plant online. Mpola looked at her gauges and shook her head. “Well, we’ll be able to get out of the atmosphere.”

“I can tweak it a bit,” Stauseo called over the comms. “Just need to tie down the boson particle manifold, it’s messing with the quantum foam regulator.”

“Ms. Idisoko, do you have engineering training?”

“Ma’am…I have what I got in the academy.”

“I can help as well,” Hercule added. “I have backup engineering training on the Acolytes.”

“That’s good enough to hold a spanner and read a gauge. Both of you, go help Mr. Stauseo. Nasti, take the stick and be ready to lift the moment we’re ready.”

“Yes, ma’am. Should we try to reach the Bass?”

Mpola shook her head. This was the most difficult part of the entire plan – the fact that it all might be for naught. She had to count on Gwenn getting the Bass back into the system at a reasonably quick pace, and wouldn’t know for sure if she had until the Rusely was off the planet.

“No,” she finally said. “This ship only has civilian comms; they’ll be hacked too easily. We’re going to go up silent.”

Nasti looked over at her commander, and shook her head. “And if the Bass isn’t there when we get off the planet?”

“Then we hope for a miracle, Ms. Johkanan. Then we hope for a miracle.”

* * *

“I don’t understand it, power should be about double what we’ve got,” Stauseo said.

“Maybe a plasma relay?” Glyta asked, looking at the gauges.

“Hope not. If a relay’s out we have to shut down and pull the panels. Take an hour or two, minimum.”

Hercule had been content to ride along in the pocket of Glyta’s flight suit, but at this, he looked up. “You may not need to pull the panels, at least. I could fit.”

Vif chuckled. “You could fit, but if it’s out, we still have to shut down to reset the conduit.”

“Well, at least I could look at it, see what’s going on,” Hercule said. “Help rule it out.”

“I think it’s a good idea,” Glyta said. “Just be careful.”

“Mademoiselle, I am a fighter pilot,” Hercule said, with a cheeky grin. “Prudent is not in my dictionary.”

“You sound like every pilot I ever met,” Glyta sighed, offering a hand for Hercule to jump into. “That’s probably a good sign.”

“Perhaps,” Hercule said, as she moved him toward the panel. “Honestly, I believe I am just happy to have the opportunity to act.”

Hercule moved carefully through the mass of wires and relays; it took him about five minutes to get back to the relay itself. It didn’t take a physicist to recognize the problem.

“It’s nothing much, just a loose chip, behind the magnetic guides. It’s shut down the secondary uptake. I should be able to reset it.”

“No! Don’t do that,” Vif practically shouted. “You won’t survive. If that’s the problem, the plasma stream will resume the second you do, and if you’re lucky, it will just vaporize your arms. We’ll shut down the system first, that will let you do it safely.”

“Very well,” Hercule said. “Let me know when we’re…..”

But before the sentence could be completed, the ship rocked from an explosion.

“Gorram it, what was that?” Mpola shouted.

“Insectoids have breached the field from beneath!” Nastia said, looking out as two more holes opened up in the ground, complementing the one that had just opened. Hundreds of armed warriors rushed through, racing toward the Rusely.

“Get us in the air, Nasti,” Mpola said.

“Ma’am, we’ve got 48 percent thrusters, grav is at 30, we’ll never….”

“This ship has minimal defenses and shielding, if they fire, we die, get us in the air.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Nasti said, and knowing full well that the very act would doom them, she pushed thrusters to full, and the Rusely lifted off.