Merlin nodded. Extensive as the Waynet was, it still only connected around ten million of the galaxy's stars. Ten million sounded like a huge number, but what it meant was that for every single star on the network there were another forty thousand that could only be reached by conventional means.
'How far away?' he said.
Quail answered: 'Without altering our trajectory, we'll reach it in a few decades of worldtime whatever we do now. Here's my suggestion. We decelerate, stop in the system and dig ourselves in. We'll still have thirty years before the Huskers arrive. That should give us time to find the best hiding places and to camouflage ourselves well enough to escape their detection.'
'They'll be looking for us,' Crombec said.
'Not necessarily.' Quail made a gesture with his hands, clasping them and then drawing them slowly apart. 'We can split Starthroat into two parts. One will continue moving at our current speed, with its exhaust directed back towards the Huskers. The other, smaller part will decelerate hard - but it'll be directing its radiation away from the aliens. We can fine-tune the beam direction so that the swarm ahead of us doesn't see it either.'
'That's . . . ambitious,' Merlin said. He had his gloved hand under the table now, not wanting anyone else to see the bad news that was spilling across it. 'If hiding's your style.'
'It's no one's style - just our only rational hope.' Quail looked around the room, seeming older and frailer than any captain ought to be, rectangles of shadow etched beneath his cheekbones.
Crombec spoke up. 'Captain? I would like to take command of the part of the ship that remains in flight.'
There were a few murmurs of assent. Clearly Crombec would not be alone in preferring not to hide, even if the majority might choose to follow Quail.
'Wait,' Pauraque said. 'As soon as we put people on a decoy, with knowledge of what has happened earlier, we run the risk of the Huskers eventually learning it all for themselves.'
'We'll take that risk,' Quail snapped.
'There won't be one,' said Crombec. 'You have my word that I'll destroy my ship rather than risk it falling into Husker possession.'
'Merlin?' the captain asked. 'I take it you're with us?'
'Of course,' he said, snapping out of his gloomy reverie. 'I support your proposal fully . . . as I must. Doubtless we'll have time to completely camouflage ourselves and cover our tracks before the swarm comes past. There's just one thing . . .'
Quail tilted his head to one side to rest against his hand, like a man close to exhaustion. 'Yes?'
'You said the system was almost unremarkable . . . is it simply the presence of the Waynet that makes it otherwise?'
'No,' Quail said, his patience wearing fatally thin. 'No, there was something else - a small anomaly in the star's mass-luminosity relationship. I doubt that it's anything very significant. Look on the bright side, Merlin. Investigating it will give you something to do while the rest of us are busying ourselves with the boring work of concealment. And you'll have your precious syrinxes, as well - not to mention close proximity to the Waynet. There'll be plenty of time for all the experiments you can think of. I'm sure even you will be able to make two syrinxes last long enough . . .'
Merlin glanced down at his glove again, hoping that the news he had received earlier had in some way been an error, or his eyes had deceived him. But neither of those things proved to be the case.
'Better make that one,' he said.
Naked, bound together, Sayaca and Merlin seemed to float in space, kindling a focus of human warmth between them. The moment when the walls of the little ship had vanished had been meant to surprise and impress Sayaca. He had planned it meticulously. But instead she began to shiver, though it was no colder than it had been an instant earlier. He traced his hand across her thigh, feeling her skin break into goosebumps.
'It's just a trick,' he said, her face half-buried in his chest. 'No one can see us from outside the cutter.'
'Force and wisdom; it feels so cold now, Merlin. Makes me feel so small and vulnerable, like a candle on the point of flickering out.'
'But you're with me.'
'It doesn't make any difference, don't you understand? You're just a man, Merlin - not some divine protective force.'
Grudgingly, but knowing that the moment had been spoiled, Merlin allowed the walls to return. The stars were still visible, but there was now quite clearly a shell of transparent metasapphire, laced with control graphics, to hold them at bay.
'I thought you'd like it,' he said. 'Especially now, on a day like this one.'
'I just wasn't quite ready for it, that's all.' Her tone shifted to one of reconciliation. 'Where is it, anyway?'
Merlin issued another subvocal command to the ship, instructing it to distort and magnify the starfield selectively, until the object of Sayaca's interest sprang into focus. What they saw was the swallowship splitting into two uneven parts, like an insect undergoing some final, unplanned metamorphosis. Six years had passed since the final decision had been made to implement Quail's scheme. Sayaca and Merlin had become lovers in that time; Quail had even died.
The separation would have been beautiful, were so much not at stake. Starthroat did not exist anymore. Its rebuilding had been a mammoth effort that had occupied all of them in one way or another. Much of its mass had been retained aboard the part that would remain cruising relativistically. She had been named Bluethroat and carried roughly one-third of the frostwatch sleepers, in addition to Crombec and the small number of seniors and subseniors who had chosen to follow him. Needless to say there had been some dispute about Crombec getting most of the weapons, chiefly from Pauraque . . . but Merlin could not begrudge him that.
The smaller part they had named Starling. This was a ship designed to make one journey only, from here to the new system. It was equipped with a plethora of nimble, adaptable in-system craft, necessary for exploring the new system and finding the securest hiding places. Scans showed that a total of six worlds orbited the star they had now named Bright Boy. Only two were of significance: a scorched, airless planet much the same size as fabled Earth, which they named Cinder, and a gas giant they named Ghost. It seemed obvious that the best place to hide would be in one of these worlds, either Cinder or Ghost, but no decision had yet been made. Sayaca thought Cinder was the best choice, while Pauraque advocated using Ghost's thick atmosphere for concealment. Eventually a choice would be made; they would dig in, establish a base and conceal all evidence of their activities.
The Huskers might slow down, curious - but they would find nothing.
'You were there, weren't you?' Sayaca said. 'When they decided this.'
Merlin nodded - remembering how young she had seemed then. The last few years had aged them all. 'We all thought Quail was insane . . . then we realised even an insane plan was the best we had. Except for Crombec, of course . . .'
Bluethroat was separating now, its torch still burning clean and steady, arcing back into the night along the great axis of the Way. Far behind - but far closer than they had once been - lay the swarm, still pursuing Merlin's people.
'You think Crombec's people will die, don't you?' Sayaca said.
'If I thought he had the better chance, that's where I'd be. With his faction, rather than under Pauraque.'
'I thought about following him too,' Sayaca said. 'His arguments sounded convincing. He thinks we'll all die around Bright Boy.'
'Maybe we will. I still think the odds are slightly more in our favour.'
'Slightly?'