By his expression, he’s following me. “So Doc’s regulatory implant acts as a kind of filter, handling some of the overload.”

“Exactly. It also regulates a natural ability I have.” Quickly, I sum up how I recover from grimspace damage, unlike other jumpers. “This way, it won’t ransack my heart, lungs, or brain. The nanites are also on board to help.”

“Does it bother you?” he asks then. “Having so much tech inside you?”

I gaze at the screen for long moments. There are no windows in here, but screens in the lounge mirror the constellations outside. It’s almost as good as the real thing.

“Yeah,” I admit. “It does. Back at the Academy, I didn’t even want the shunt.”

“And look at you now.”

There’s a weight to his statement I don’t enjoy. “If there’s nothing further, I have plans with Dina. See you later.”

CHAPTER 33

The vid plays some old film that neither of us has been watching.

I’m listening to Dina with full attention because it’s unlikely she’ll ever open up to me this way again. I’ve caught her in a weak moment, and I’m here, so that makes me the best choice to share what she’s going through. On some level, I can empathize.

“There’s never been anyone like her before,” she concludes. “Nobody that mattered. Since I left Tarnus, I’ve tried not to get entangled in other people’s lives. I just went ship to ship, job to job, never thinking about the future.”

“Until you met March.”

She nods. “He makes it hard to walk away.”

Unless he’s doing the walking. But this isn’t about me.

“Are you worried?” It’s a stupid question, but really I’m just a sounding board.

Dina hesitates, then admits, “Terrified. I was offhand in saying good-bye, like it didn’t matter that she was assigned elsewhere. I . . . hurt her.”

And then wept all night about it. The mechanic isn’t as tough as she wants people to believe. Quite the contrary, she can be kind and tender, devoted to those she cares about but somewhat awkward in expressing it. I glimpse a little of myself in her.

“Maybe you could bounce her a message?”

“There’s no privacy on these ships,” she mutters. “If I do, the comm officer and no telling who else will see what I have to say.”

“Can’t you code it as personal to be passed along?”

“I can, but there’s no guarantee they won’t snoop. Loras used to do it all the time.”

“Really?” For some reason, I’m surprised. I guess thinking him dead made me ascribe to him no bad habits, that sort of posthumous deification. After people have gone, you forget their faults, and you recall the ideal more than the person.

“He likes to gather information for sly little digs. You may not have known him long enough to notice, but he has quite a nasty sense of humor.”

I consider. “That makes me like him better.”

“Me, too.” She manages a smile.

Whatever I might have said becomes irrelevant with the beep of my comm. “To the cockpit immediately, LC. We have our first fight.”

“Alert Argus.”

“Already done,” March says.

“On my way.” I glance at Dina on my way out. “You may want to get to gunnery.”

She doesn’t thank me for listening, just follows me out, and we go our separate ways in the hall. I make for the cockpit at a dead run. He didn’t say if this fight will require a jump. It would be better if I’d gotten a little sleep before going again, but I knew when I signed on this wouldn’t be an easy haul.

Thanks to my training, I’m not even out of breath when I arrive. Argus comes in close on my heels, eager to learn. March indicates two ships in the distance. I can see they’re locked in battle, so we won’t be jumping this time. That’s good for me.

“Shortly after we arrived in Sigma Psi, I received a distress call from that merchantman. They noticed a ship on their sensors, tracking them and coming fast. This captain was smart and sent out a request for help before the raiders struck, allowing us to catch up. As soon as we’re in range, I want you on lasers.”

So that’s why I’m here. It makes sense; I’m the only one besides Dina who has much live gunnery experience. When pirates take a ship, they usually do it with threat of force, and most freighters don’t fight back.

But damn, I could’ve gone to the gun bay with her. If we aren’t jumping, there’s no need for me to be up here, even less for Argus. However, I’ve learned enough about chain of command that I don’t question his decisions. Instead, I nod and take a seat. First I reroute the lasers, then I bring down the targeting array.

“Still out of range,” I report, after peering through.

Regardless, I start powering up the lasers. They’ll be ready by the time I can fire.

“ETA five minutes,” he answers.

Argus stares out the view screen. “I hope they can hold out that long.”

Though I don’t say it aloud, I can tell that the merchantman’s shields are failing. Soon the raiders will be bombarding the hull itself, which means vacuum tearing through the ship unless someone’s fast enough to lock the area down. I’ve never traveled on a freighter, so I don’t know what kind of crew they carry or how skilled they’ll be.

I tap my comm. “Dina, do you have the cannons ready to go?”

“Full power,” she confirms.

“Can you get us a quick burst?” March asks her. “We need to knock a minute off our arrival time.”

She swears, then says, “That’s not good for the engines, but yeah.”

The Triumph zips forward, reminiscent of a Silverfish, and soon the targeting array tells me I can blow them out of the sky. A chill washes over me, as I realize this pirate vessel is looking at an Armada ship for the first time. We have the authority here. They won’t recognize the symbol painted on the side of the Triumph yet, but one day, the mere sight of it will send raiders running.

“They’re flying a Pericles-class,” March tells me, maneuvering closer. “That means it’s weak here.” He indicates the spot. “Concentrate your fire.”

“Roger that.” Dina will unload the cannons there, too.

Without speaking, I simply obey instructions and launch a volley of lasers at them, happy I don’t have to worry about evasive action. With March at the helm, the flying is a lot smoother than the autopilot’s programmed patterns. My shots disintegrate against their shields in a crackle of white-blue light, but by the accompanying ripple, I can tell March is right about the design fault.

“Enemy ship coming about,” Argus warns, somewhat unnecessarily.

A thrill sparks through me. The pirates break off their attack on the merchantman and respond to the greater threat: us. If they had any sense, they’d try to flee—not that it would work. But maybe they don’t know as much about ships as March, and they don’t realize how outclassed they are.

Our shields take their shots without even a quiver. Unlike the Folly, we won’t be dodging as much in the Triumph. It’s a larger ship all the way around, which is why it requires more crew to maintain it.

Dina has fine-tuned the lasers, so they cycle back up faster. I could fire through, but there’s always the risk of overheating if you ignore the recommended rate of fire. Since she’ll break my head if I burn these out, I figure it’s better to be careful.

I unload on them again, compensating for the drift of the ship automatically. This time, my shots go a little wide, slightly off the weakness March indicated; but Dina fires true, each cannon blast creating a tremor in the shields until they shimmer and wink out.

The comm beeps. “Commander, I have a request for ship-to-ship dialogue.”

I recognize the voice of our communications officer—Rose. With Evelyn on board, Doc doesn’t need less-skilled help, so it makes sense Rose would accept an assignment that at least kept her on the ship. But I wonder if she’s jealous at the long hours Doc spends with Evelyn Dasad, working on concepts too complex for her own understanding.

“From whom?” March asks.

“The pirate vessel.”

“Hold fire,” he tells Dina and me, then orders Rose, “Patch them through, sound only.”

In a few seconds, we have the voice of the enemy captain in the cockpit. “Who the hell are you? Clear off. I saw this take first.”

He thinks we’re pirates with a bigger ship.

“This is Commander March of the Armada ship Triumph . You have committed an act of war against the Conglomerate.”

“Armada?” I hear scorn in the other man’s voice. “There ain’t no bleedin’ Armada. You’re out of your mind, you are.”

“We’re newly commissioned,” March says tightly. “I can understand your confusion. You have two choices here. You can accept having your vessel commandeered by the fleet, or I can blast you to atoms.”

The raider captain laughs. “You are not taking my ship.”

“So be it.” After cutting comm signal, he says: “Resume the assault.”

Dina needs no further invitation, nor do I. With that short break, the lasers are ready to go again, humming in readiness down in gunnery. I let fly and experience a little shiver of pleasure as they sear into the hull, leaving charred black streaks that signal loss of structural integrity. Dina’s cannons come in behind, ripping our first breach.

Their return fire dissipates on our shields. Soon their captain realizes he’s overmatched, and they turn to run, but the damage to their ship slows them. We continue the bombardment, until the welded joints begin to break apart. After that, it doesn’t take long. Inertia and vacuum tear at the hull, wrenching the ship to pieces.

March keeps us firing long after it’s reasonable, but atoms he promised, and that we deliver. Eventually, there’s nothing larger than a meter left of this pirate vessel, just chunks of charred metal and ash. No survivors. We scan the wreckage to make sure there’s nothing that could be a disguised escape pod, such as the one that preserved Evelyn Dasad.

At least in this, we’re smarter than the Morgut.

CHAPTER 34

“Open a line to the merchantman,” March tells Rose. “Full feed.”

Within a few moments, a 3-D image appears in the cockpit. The freighter captain is an older man, heavyset, wearing full side whiskers. He looks sweaty and tired as he says, “I ask your intentions now, sir. Do you mean to take up where those ruffians left off?”

March repeats the introduction he spoke first to the pirate, and adds, “We will escort you to your port of call. How far are you from your destination?”

“Less than six hours,” the other man answers. “Those rotten bastards had been tracking us since we came out of grimspace.”

March nods. “They do lurk around known jump zones. On behalf of the Conglomerate, I apologize for the inconvenience.”

“It’s about time they took action. It’s not safe for man or beast out here.”