"Microjump to within fifteen seconds scan delay, yes, sir, I would. Give 'em something else to think about. They know she was intended to meet something; they don't know what."

"They don't know for sure it was in this system-"

"If the pilot turned, he'd have told them everything up to the recognition codes. They know

someone's waiting for her. We might as well show something-any delay can help her, and we can

maneuver sufficiently for the integrity of this ship."

"Suiza, that sounds a lot more like the hero of Xavier." He turned to the communications officer.

"Give me a tightbeam, and load a compressed summary of scan; we'll also drop a beacon. Thirty seconds to jump, people."

Shrike popped out of its microjump at low relative system velocity, and the scans cleared.

"Total blackout 2 minutes 45 seconds," Koutsoudas said. Scan lit with the shuttle's beacon and the others-three escort-size warships, two patrol-size, something that massed like a half-size cruiser, and a clutter of small craft. All blazed with live-weapons warning icons. "They'll

acquire us in a second or so-and we should be picking up active scan signals shortly-there . . ."

The warships icons all showed acceleration cones; those already under boost had the skewed cones of ships changing direction. "Looks like we're sucking 'em off the shuttle." The skewed cones lengthened as those ships pulled away from their pursuit, to redirect their attention to the newcomer.

The shuttle's position had moved; it was clear now that it was running back toward the planet, with rapid changes of acceleration to make it a difficult target. The screens blinked as the SAR kinked in a tiny microjump, then cleared again. The enemy icons responded more slowly this time.

Good. Anything to confuse them, distract them. Another jink, to within a half-second, and then another. A distant explosion, where one of the enemy had released a missile at more than maximum range, to detonate uselessly. It was low enough now to be in the orbital trash. It disappeared around the far side of the planet from them. Long minutes passed, while they waited, jinking in random sequence microjumps to keep the enemy guessing. If Brun had slowed enough, it would be another hour and a half before the icon reappeared.

Too soon, they saw it again, now moving rapidly in a suicidal dive for the surface.

"They'll burn up on the first pass, going like that," Koutsoudas said. "What the hell is that girl thinking of? Did she lose control of the ship?"

"Maybe she doesn't have enough fuel for a proper descent," someone else said. "Maybe she'd rather burn-"

"She's not in the ship," Esmay said. She could feel her heart pounding; she knew without question what Brun had done.

"What, you think it's flying itself? You're the one said they probably didn't have p-suits; they couldn't have spaced themselves."

"Unless they found something with p-suits, or an air supply," Esmay said. "If they did . . . I can see Brun sending the shuttle off as a decoy."

"The only active station-the only thing up there with air and p-suits-is the main station, where Elias Madero is docked," Koutsoudas said. "I can guarantee they didn't dock there-leaving aside the fact that if they did, they'd have been captured, because it's occupied."

"Uh-oh."

They turned. The Militia ships had not waited to see if the shuttle would burn. From safely outside the danger zone, they'd sent missiles in pursuit, and a dying flare of the screen showed that they'd hit it.

"Well," Captain Solis said. "That's that. Barring Lieutenant Suiza's unlikely suggestion that there are two p-suits now floating somewhere in orbit, they're dead. No one survives a direct hit on a shuttle."

Esmay had been flipping through Koutsoudas's scan catalog of the orbiting trash. "Here's something-and it's consistent with the origin of that burn."

"It's derelict," Koutsoudas said after a quick glance. "There's an old reactor at the core, but the rest of it's at ambient temp."

"It's big enough," Esmay said. "The shuttle course tracks back-"

Koutsoudas sighed, and pulled up an enlarged version of the thumbnail in the catalog. "Look-it's big, but it's a wreck. Even from here you can see that whole sections are open to vacuum . . ."

Esmay blinked. Open to vacuum they were, but-she remembered the Special Materials Fabrication Unit, open just like this. "Could it have been a vacuum processing or manufacturing facility?"

"They don't have anything like that," Captain Solis said. "They buy or steal their space-made products."

"They do now," Esmay said. "Didn't the Guernesi ambassador mention a facility that used to be here-from before the Militia took over this planet?"

"The operative word is derelict, Lieutenant. Even if Brun and her companion made it there, it won't do them any good. No air, no food, no effective shields, no weapons."

"It might've had p-suits, sir. Even if it was ransacked by the Militia, they might not have taken everything. I think she's there, and I think we should go get her."

"I think you're trying to redeem your career, Lieutenant, at the cost of other people's lives."

Solis glared at her.

Silence descended on the bridge; Esmay could hear every breath anyone took. Then she heard her own.

"Sir, the captain has a right to whatever opinion of me the captain holds. But that woman-those women-have one chance only for survival, and that's someone on our side getting to them with air and protection before either their air runs out or the bad guys figure out that the shuttle was a decoy. If the captain thinks I'm a conniving glory-hound, there are others on this ship who can do the rescue. But it needs to be done."

Solis gave her a long look, which she met squarely. "You would volunteer for such a mission?"

Of course leaped into her mouth, and she bit it back. "Yes, sir."

"Mmm. Who should go, do you think?"

"A full SAR team, sir. Even though we know of only two personnel who may have medical problems, we should anticipate that the Militia may send a boarding party . . . having figured Brun's thinking just as I have. We may be fighting; we will, at the very least, be doing a rescue under hostile conditions."

Solis looked around the bridge, and his gaze came to rest on Koutsoudas. "You've worked with Brun Meager-"

"Yes, sir."

"What do you think?"

"Sir, I think Lieutenant Suiza's right about how Brun thinks-she's very quick, very ingenious, and willing to take risks. If she did dock to any of the junk we've found orbiting this planet, that derelict station is the obvious place. If she's not dead, then that's where she'll be. Suiza's also right that if she did dock there, it would've been detected by any decent ground-based sensing system. We can't assume they don't have one. If I were the Militia, I'd have shuttles on the way-and in fact, we've spotted shuttle takeoffs, three altogether."

Solis looked past Esmay. "Meharry-you're also specially assigned to this mission-what's your assessment?"

"The lieutenant's on target, Captain. And the longer we sit around here jawing about it, the worse off Brun's going to be."

"Would you trust Lieutenant Suiza on a mission like this? Or is she grandstanding?"

Esmay was aware of Meharry's unquiet presence behind her. Rumor had spread many stories of Meharry, most of them unpleasantly concentrating on her lethal talents. "With me along, sure, Captain. Personally, I think she's straight, but if I'm there she won't have a chance to screw up."

"Lord Thornbuckle has insisted all along that Sera Meager would not want to see Lieutenant Suiza,"

Solis said, his tone still cool.

"I think Brun would be glad to see anyone on our side," Meharry said. "And from what I saw at

Xavier, and heard from people on Kos, the lieutenant is ideally suited to this sort of thing."

That could be taken more than one way, but Esmay wasn't feeling picky.

"Very well. Lieutenant, you'll take Team One, and Warrant Officers Meharry and Vissisuan." Esmay did not need to be told that they would be watching her, as much as helping Brun.

Freed at last to do what she knew she was best at, Esmay felt her spirits rising. Their mission was beyond difficult-but so had others been. Brun might not be on the derelict, or if she was, she might already have died from any of a thousand things. If they found her, they might find a corpse, or they might all be blown up by a Militia missile, aimed or stray.