1

The Adelphi system.

Not a nice place.

The impact was violent, throwing Ark forward against her seat belt. The tight straps cut into her chest. The sharp pain incapacitated her for a brief moment. The air was forced out of her lungs, and she gasped and coughed. Her jaw clamped down. She tasted blood, and her tongue hurt.

Ark blinked. Her vision momentarily clouded over. She refocused on her surroundings and concentrated on the instruments. There were red warning symbols glowing everywhere.

She hadn't been paying attention.

She was shaken by another coughing fit.

Smoke swirled, and as the air circulators failed, they stopped pumping.

Espinoza stood with her legs apart in front of her console, which was glowing ominously. She was holding a fire extinguisher, from which a whitish, foaming substance was now hissing, extinguishing the smoldering electrical fire. As the chemicals met the flames, they released a characteristic nauseating smell, which penetrated the thin oxygen masks that everyone should be wearing by now.

Should be.

"Simeon!"

What was the man doing?

Simeon was coughing, too. His face was green. He blinked and tried to focus his eyes. Ark scrutinized him. His mask wasn't sealing properly, and he hadn't noticed. Ark released her seat belt-a risky proposition-strode over to his chair and reached forward. She pressed the mask over his mouth and nose correctly and clapped him on the shoulder in a half-reassuring, half-reprimanding manner. The helmets on their suits remained open. There was enough oxygen; they just had to separate it from the acrid smoke coming off the smoldering plastic.

Ark sank back into her chair, and the straps automatically wrapped around her torso. It hurt when they tightened.

Simeon shot her a grateful look. His vision was still a little hazy. He needed a moment.

"Espinoza!"

The specialist dropped the empty fire extinguisher, turned away from the smothered blaze and sat down in her seat. Her console was no longer glowing. Her experience was evident in the way she moved: she was a veteran in every sense of the word. Ark wouldn't want to do without her. She might be bad-tempered a lot of the time, but she was an essential member of the bridge crew.

"They caught us off guard, Captain."

They. A new system. The same enemy. Captain Kraus and his ships were behind them. He couldn't be far off. In front of them were the remains of the Republic that had been abandoned, scarred by war, but perhaps.

Ark cursed, permitting herself just a short, sharp outburst. The cruiser creaked and groaned. Kinetic energy passed through the ship's hull. In certain places, there were gaps between the components and modules that were designed to cushion and distribute this energy, helping to preserve the cruiser's internal stability. But every time it happened, the ship's wails and moans were heartrending.

Ark patted her armrest. "It's alright."

Of course it wasn't alright. Two automatic launchers concealed in the wreckage of the space station-which was unlikely to hold much value for them-had been waiting for just such a brazen, reckless visit. Ambush and deception, just as one might expect from the Colonials. Ark's inattentiveness and lack of suspicion, which she attributed to exhaustion, were the reason for their current predicament. They had hoped to scavenge as much as possible from the remnants of this system, as quickly as possible, or locate survivors-or find help before the tireless Captain Kraus caught up with them. Time was of the essence. Still, that was no excuse for her lapse in attention.

She pushed the thought aside. Self-criticism was in order, but there would be time for that later. First, they needed to get out of here.

"Shields?"

"More or less."

"Espinoza!"

Ark saw that the older woman was struggling to compose herself.

"The damn controls aren't working properly. I'm getting contradictory readings or none at all. We're still alive; that's all I have for now."

There were reasons Espinoza had been demoted twice, and there were reasons she had been promoted more than twice. She was a rock of stability and not easily ruffled. But she had a penchant for coarse language, and her lack of respect for officers had frequently gotten her into trouble.

"I need nav-"

Another impact silenced her mid-word. A violent jolt went through the ship. The force pressed Ark into her seat, shaking her to the bone and making the Proxima groan. There was a bang, a bright flash from a panel and the smell of ozone. Not good.

Ark looked around. Espinoza was already reaching for a second fire extinguisher, but they were spared any flames this time.

Simeon stared at his right hand. Beside it, a fist-sized smoking hole gaped in the control panel. He was visibly shaken.

"We need to get out of here," Ark muttered to herself. Her controls were still responding to her touch, as far as she could tell. The engines and navigation were still working. Rough steering. Lateral flight attitude. Then came another barrage of missiles. They were only small, not the big ones. The bridge crew would have noticed any large-caliber launchers priming themselves. That was the price of ambush, a compromise their enemies had to make. But even small missiles could do damage if they hit the right spot.

Ark's fingers danced across her console. She knew every step, every circuit she could use to bypass damaged wiring. It was her ship. It had to obey her, because she was the goddamn boss here.

She forced the Proxima onto a new course. The cruiser obeyed, as was its duty. It complained and groaned, but it obeyed.

"Sara, I need a damage report."

Sara remained silent.

Ark tilted her head back, pointlessly. Somewhere above the bridge, in an armored nest, sat Sara-the Turing core, the heart, brain and nervous system of the AI. It would survive even the most severe damage to the ship. Ark assumed that the ship's intelligence system was functioning, but was somehow unable to communicate. Things were going haywire at the moment.

"Nothing is working here, either. Simeon!"

The man flinched, pulled himself together, pressed his oxygen mask against his face and stared at her with red-rimmed eyes. She had no time for compassion, not even to show the young man a little understanding.

"Captain."

"Communications. I need a connection to Thomson."

"The intercom's down."

"Then get it fixed, Lieutenant! Get down there. I want additional power to the engines, and I want it fast. And tell him to check the shield controls. On your feet!"

Her words were harsh, but their effect was lost as they were shaken by another violent jolt. Simeon picked himself up anyway and staggered off the bridge, perhaps even a little relieved to have a chance to prove himself.

The Proxima was changing course far too slowly. Ark hated inertia. It was one of the most annoying laws of physics.

There was a bang, and the ship shook again, although not as hard as last time. Ark rubbed a breast with one hand. Bruises were the least of her problems.

"Impact!" shouted Espinoza. "Hull, Sector III, depressurization. Hull integrity is not compromised. I'll notify the repair team, but I don't know."

She left the sentence unfinished. Ark understood what she meant.

A few of the sensors were still online, at least. The firing engines were now forcing the Proxima onto its new course faster. Then, they heard crackles and pops as the laser clusters intercepted missiles. Without the automatic defense system.

"Target!" Espinoza groaned. Her voice shook with anger. "I've found the bastard, Captain. I."

"Do it!"

Espinoza acted. She pounded the weapon controls with gratifying abandon. Beeps sounded. They heard the crunch of the ship as it tried to balance conflicting force. A chime echoed across the bridge.

"Fired, Captain. Three SRMs, right on target."

"Time to impact?"

"Seven minutes."

"Report."

Espinoza reported. She counted down monotonously. Then, she announced triumphantly and with macabre delight, "Hit, sunk, Captain."

"Where's the other launcher?"

"Hidden in the debris field. My guess is-"

The woman broke off. The laser clusters sounded as if they were going off right next to them.

"We have an insulation problem!" shouted Espinoza. "I recommend."

"Helmets! Everyone! Now!"

Ark closed hers, enjoying the fresh air and relative silence for a moment, and then turned up the external mic. She needed to know what was going on.

The Proxima accelerated away from the scene. The map tank flickered. The Agate followed suit. Yin was quick to react, sometimes more so than she was. The remote imaging system was still working fine, showing a trail of hot exhaust leaving the corvette from the wrong place.

"Yin, status!"

The radio crackled. After a while, she heard heavy breathing. The captain of the corvette evidently had his hands full.

"My ship is limping slightly, but she's ready for action," came the reassuring reply.

"Acknowledged, and thank you."

Ark ended the connection. She didn't want to keep the man from his work.

Faster than expected, but as fast as she had hoped, calm returned. Ark's breathing relaxed. The alarms faded. Red changed to green, but only hesitantly, as if the ship itself didn't want to believe it had gotten...