“No indication of detection, Nezdeh. But the target has acted with considerable dispatch ever since the two interface craft returned from the surface of the planet.”
Nezdeh fastened the top clasp of her tunic when no one was looking. Over the past three days, she and Idrem had only had a few intermittent hours when their off-duty cycles overlapped, and this had been one of them — until she had been summoned to the bridge two minutes ago.
Brenlor ducked through the hatchway, waved off Sehtrek’s attempt to update him. He had been aboard Red Lurker when its superior sensor suite had alerted them to the first signs that the target might be preparing to move. “Your assessment, Nezdeh?”
“They mean to make best speed to their shift point.”
“Then we must break off our own refueling immediately and commence preacceleration. That way, we will arrive before them in BD +02 4076 with enough lead time to take on fuel and seek a suitable position from which to ambush them.”
“Assuming they are heading to that system at all,” added Sehtrek.
“And if they are not,” Nezdeh amended, “then we will refuel and seek our fortunes elsewhere. And elsewise.”
Brenlor was able to hear this disappointing possibility with almost complete equanimity now. “We would have little choice. Sehtrek, commence preacceleration for the shift point to BD +02 4076 as soon as our skimmers have returned to their berths.” Leaning over, he asked Nezdeh in a lower voice, “Has Idrem determined the likelihood that the Slaasriithi will see our tug’s antimatter drive, this time?”
Nezdeh nodded. “If we stay in the shadow of the gas giant, and if the target continues to maintain its current course, that will put the star directly between us. They have, at best, a twenty percent chance of detecting us as we accelerate.”
Brenlor did not take his eyes away from the starfield. “I do not like those odds.”
Nezdeh decided to take a chance: changing into the ancient dialect used only among the Srinu of the Creche worlds, she observed, “Twelve weeks ago, you would have found those odds exhilarating.”
Brenlor nodded tightly, answered in the same tongue. “Twelve weeks ago, I was still thinking like an angry Srin, and a prodigal to boot. Now that the die is cast, I think like a man who may one day be a Hegemon.” He turned to face her. “Before our Extirpation, I had no such hopes. I was rash during my first years outside the precinct walls. I resented the Breedmistresses’ prediction that I would never rise high enough to even guard a Hegemon’s dais. Now?” He shrugged. “I may be the last of our line left to ascend that platform myself. And so I school myself to think appropriately.”
Nezdeh put a hand on her cousin’s arm. “And have done so admirably.” She looked at the virtual instruments showing their telemetry and other transit data. “How long?” she asked Sehtrek.
“One hundred and fifty hours.”
Nezdeh rose, relinquishing the con to Brenlor. “Only six days to wait, now.”
His smile was both rueful and feral as he slid into the captain’s chair. “I would not mind if it was a bit longer, this time.”
“Really? Why?”
Brenlor’s smile was now wholly feral. “So I have enough time to prepare our ambush.”
* * *
One hundred and forty-nine hours later, when the Arbitrage reached her shift point, Nezdeh and Brenlor were back on its bridge. In the faux-holograph of the navplot, the green blip of the preaccelerating Slaasriithi ship was headed directly away from them.
“Threshold energy state attained,” the Aboriginal pilot announced. “Shift drive ready.”
“Engage,” Brenlor ordered.
Reality seemed to swim through a hole in itself and emerge on the far side, unchanged — except for the star field and the nearby mass of a gas giant.
The communications officer put a hand to her ear. “Idrem with a sensor report; multiple small objects orbiting the main planet.”
“Size of objects?”
“Initial densitometer readings are imprecise, but they seem to vary between seventy and four-hundred fifty cubic meters. All are spherical.”
Brenlor nodded. “Surveillance satellites and automated craft. Any sign of weapons?”
“Given the distance and our reliance upon passive sensors, Idrem reports that we are unable to discern any. He remarks, however, that the trojan point asteroid fields of the main planet are both highly attenuated and quite dense.”
Brenlor nodded. “We will approach the spinward trojan point carefully and ensure that it has no dormant trespass sensors. If it doesn’t, then we shall spring our ambush from there.”
Nezdeh nodded. “In the meantime, let us fill our tanks at the gas giant so that, if the Slaasriithi shift-carrier does make this its next — and final — destination, we are in readiness.” And then quickly move on, before Tlerek Srin Shethkador catches our scent and sends some stealthy hounds to track us down…
* * *
As soon as Tlerek Srin Shethkador heard Olsirkos enter his spin-chambers, he asked, “You have completed your review of both the general ship’s log and the communications log?”
“Yes, Fearsome Srin. As I reported, Ferocious Monolith’s journey to Sigma Draconis was largely uneventful. In fact, the senior annalist recorded statistically low mortality among the unshielded low-gee helots, of which all deaths were, happily, cull-worthy. As one often encounters on an Aegis ship, there were several disputes that required intervention and summary discipline. One evolved into a formal duel.”
“What do you know about that duel?”
“Very little, Honored Srin. After it was reported to me, I had the senior lictor investigate to ensure there were no security or operational consequences. The senior annalist collected the particulars to make his report. That was the end of the matter.”
“I see. When did the duel occur?”
“Several days before departing the V 1581 system, the last shift on our journey here. The duel involved the second bridge crew’s communications officer and one of his journeyman-trainees. There was no indication that House rivalry was the cause of the duel.”
Shethkador waited for further explication. None came. “The loss of the second communications officer affected crewing, did it not?”
Olsirkos shrugged. “Slightly. The second communications officer was scheduled to transfer to Red Lurker, which we left behind in V 1581 three days later. The first alternate communications specialist was tasked to take his place aboard Lurker. The second alternate, the trainee who won the duel, became the second crew’s communications officer here aboard Monolith.”
“So, as the new secondary comm officer, the trainee’s duties now include maintaining the communications logs, running readiness checks, and monitoring enemy communications, correct?”
“That is correct.”
And still Olsirkos does not see the connection. “Has your new second communications officer brought any unusual enemy communications to your attention?”
Olsirkos frowned. “No, Fearsome Srin.” This time, Olsirkos put extra emphasis upon the word “fearsome.”
“So, shall we presume that he failed to notice this?” Shethkador pressed a stud on his belt-com. Behind him, communications records from twelve days prior rose up as a holoflat. Shethkador had flagged one of the entries in red.