Hadeishi sat in deep gloom, only the barest slivers of light shining on the pipes overhead. One boot was edged against the fuel valve at the top of an enormous tank of reaction mass, the other tucked under him as a makeshift seat. De Molay, tucked into the hammock again, was only a hand-span away, almost invisible in the darkness. The string net was suspended from a series of overhead pipes. Below them, intermittent sounds echoed up from the engineering spaces as two Khaid engineers banged around, trying to decipher the Wilful ’s control systems. Hadeishi had put the rest of their supplies-everything he could gather up in the time allowed-in another bag, which also hung from a lanyard.
A burst of harsh chatter rose up to them, and the entire ship shuddered with a sharp, reverberating clang-clang-clang. De Molay shifted, and Mitsuharu heard her whisper: “We’ve separated.”
He nodded, judging the sounds the same way. Their suspicions were confirmed a few moments later when the entire ship shivered awake and the pumps attached to the fuel tanks hummed into action. We’re on maneuvering drive, Mitsuharu thought.
His fingertips reached out, confirmed the location of the machete, and then he leaned close enough to the freighter captain to feel her faint, thready breath on the side of his face. “They are preparing to take us into hyperspace.”
Hadeishi twisted around, putting his back to her, and held up a comp he’d appropriated from one of the equipment lockers. The tiny screen displayed a telemetry feed relayed from the navigational system. The whole Khaid fleet was in motion.
“So many ships,” whispered De Molay. “That doesn’t seem like a raiding party…”
Mitsuharu shook his head. “This is a fleet. The first I’ve ever seen-or heard-of the Khaid assembling. Something-larger-is underway.”
On the display, Khaiden icons shook out into new positions.
“That is an odd formation,” De Molay wheezed, trying to find a comfortable position. The hammock swayed a little.
“They’re preparing for a hot combat jump,” Hadeishi replied softly, feeling a trickle of adrenaline start up in his heart. Old familiar feelings-ones he’d thought lost, now welcome in their return-flooded him, watching the alien ships form up. “Heavies pentahedral at the core, lights orbiting at the edge of their combat interlink range. But… what is there to attack out here? No planets, no systems… not so much as a mining enclave in range.”
De Molay snorted softly. She had recovered some color. “The hidden places are always busy, Nisei. There is an Imperial research station. Five or six light-years from here, I would venture. A secret… but not well kept, as we see.”
He looked over his shoulder, one eyebrow raised. “You were bound there yourself?”
“The Wilful? Not directly.” She tapped him gently on the shoulder with gnarled fingertips. “ Your destination, Captain Hadeishi, is a little grander… one of our sister ships should have been waiting for us at that moon. I wonder if they suffered our fate, only earlier. Unless they were delayed and have yet to reach rendezvous.”
Mitsuharu breathed deeply, calming a sudden burst of outrage. So-I’ve been deceived and carted about like a sack of meal! Hmmm… but who would want me out in this desolation?
“Ah, see? The Khaid fleet is underway.” De Molay’s voice was a bare whisper.
Indeed, the enemy was rippling out of sight into hyperspace.
“Three waves. Then us.” In this soup, Hadeishi thought, they’ll be on top of the station without the slightest warning.
He thumbed through a series of other views, tapping each ship’s system in turn. The hyperspace coil reported coordinates for transit had been locked in and the freighter was quickly approaching gradient. Mitsuharu’s eyes narrowed, but a quick flip back to the navigation feed confirmed what he’d expected-hoped!-when he’d seen the Khaid combat pattern.
We’re plotted for a different vector. For some frontier depot with a prize crew aboard. Useless in a fight, but too valuable for these scavengers to leave behind. Excellent.
He thumbed a set of commands into the hand comp, one ear listening to the banter of the Khaid technicians below them at the main engineering panel. A red glyph began to flash on the little display and he covered the icon with his thumb, ready to press.
The hyperspace coil buried two decks below keened awake. His thumb mashed down-the glyph deformed-then disappeared. The ship spun up to gradient and then-with a shudder and a queasy slide-the Wilful was away as well, racing forward at transluminal speeds.
Vector confirmed, he thought, smiling to himself.
De Molay looked up at him questioningly. “What have you done?” she mouthed.
“A detour,” he whispered. “When one door shuts, another opens.’”