I leapt through the unnamed system, Marapis trailing along behind me. Their smaller cousins, the 'Sect Soros, could only limp along below the speed of light, slowed even further by the sheer amount of junk floating around the star. Once more I vented the excess heat of my jump into the surrounding asteroids, turning them into expanding clouds of molten rock in an instant. Again, I sifted through, pulling out everything ferrous, tossing the remaining balls of slag at my pursers as they emerged from their jump pockets.

As before, I followed each ball of magma with a flung rock. Temporarily blinded by burning rock, most of the Marapis died when hit by the hurtling asteroids. Three managed to survive, one emerging almost entirely unscathed by hiding behind yet another piece of flotsam. As quickly as possible I gathered my bounty of molten iron and jumped once more.

"Why..." My First's question thundered through the pocket, as meaningless as silence after a tiny eternity of echoes.

More Marapis and Soros entered the system now. The Soros proved what I'd already suspected; We hadn't stumbled across a random patrol; we'd hit the edge of the net, where each system had its own contingent of scouts to act as spotters, messengers, and if need be, tie-downs. I counted nearly a hundred Soros in the system now; even practically pinned in place by speed of light restrictions they posed a navigational hazard. The Marapis followed me, the new, fresh ones showing up closer than their tiring kin.

I harvested more iron from the molten asteroids I'd collected. This time, instead of tossing the slag out in discrete molten balls, I sprayed it across the heavens in a broad arc, covering all the directions my pursuers might come from. I didn't bother following up with solid balls of rock; without enough heat to blind the Marapis, my thrown rocks would be no more than a momentary diversion.

I leapt again, tossing my wormhole through one of the few gaps in my expanding corona of light and heat. With a little luck, some of the Marapis wouldn't notice I'd gone until they broke through the heated shell.

"What..." Another echoed question from my First, again directed at me. I ignored him and grabbed at yet another cluster of rocks.

The system didn't really have rocks everywhere, of course. I'd taken advantage of a known navigational problem with pocket jumps; gravity fields drew charged wormholes to themselves. Missing a cluster of asteroids took skill. Hitting one? Dead easy.

It almost became simply dead. Echidna's deflector and projector arrays could barely keep the impact with the huge mass survivable. I vented energy, and the mass didn't melt down; only a portion glowed cherry red, the rest remaining the dull blue grey I'd hoped for.

What the hell are you doing?

I didn't have time to deal with Guy right now.

Preparing to evade pursuit. Deal with the casualties from that last impact, and make sure Quick is up.

He acknowledged my order with a thought, and I spared him no more attention. Instead, I reached out with mental and shipboard connections to contact my First. I blinked, confused, when I touched a mind worn smooth by age. A moment later, my probe shredded against its surface as it awoke.

"Captain. What are we doing?"

"I need you to strip as many ship killer drives as we have. Get them ready for a single move, large object, medium mass."

"What are you doing?"

"I'm dropping something into the sun. Get to work; I estimate no more than ten minutes before we have to jump again."

I heard the pause before he killed our connection, like he'd started to speak but then thought better of it. I grabbed a lump of stone nearly the size of Echidna, popped open a wormhole and tossed it through. I spent several times the energy of a normal micro-jump, but the resulting flare of energy as it slammed into a cluster of asteroids across the system drew Marapis and Soros alike, moths to a flame.

I threw my absorbers to max, turning the projectors and deflectors down to standby power levels. Echidna became a hole in space, only a black disc flecked with shiny silver areas where my absorbers had broken during the battle betraying our position to any observer close enough to see. Echidna woke as I turned our most damaged side to face the huge lump of ferrous metals we danced through our orbit with.

I took a few moments to dim my command space and chug down another half thermos full of glop. Now that I knew what to look for, I could pick out the charred, bitter flavor of Bucky Balls, the preferred Imperial method of antimatter storage. It meant our antimatter reactors emitted more gamma radiation, but essies and Armorers alike had long since learned to treat gamma as just another flavor of power. I grimaced as I thought about how much energy I'd just stolen from Echidna, from our ability to jump away from our enemies.

"How much power do you have, Kid?"

"One jump and a bit. Call it one jump plus another five or six micro jumps, or one jump plus three of the six hours we need to recharge."

I frowned, trying to parse the amount of power those jumps required to the amount I swallowed each time my steward handed me a thermos. Of course, my essie chose that moment to toss up a helpful graph; each thermos held enough energy for roughly half a micro jump. Fifteen minutes of Echidna producing power every way my First could figure out how, and I swallowed it in three solid chugs. I'd eat enough every three days to produce a pocket jump myself if I had the hardware.

Your current field configuration isn't optimized for wormhole projection. You're low by a factor of about three.

I froze midway through the act of handing my thermos back to my steward.

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What kind of clutter are you spouting?

My shoulder twitched, my essie's way of expressing a shrug.

Pocket creation requires fine field manipulation across the surface of the pocket. You've got that. Wormhole creation and manipulation is part of your Primary power system. That only leaves projection. That one's rough; we need to simulate a pocket drive ship's wormhole driver by further wormhole manipulation.

Another shrug, as if they couldn't be bothered to explain it to me further if I didn't make the effort to understand it myself. Before I could think of anything more, Quick contacted me.

"Sir. We've only got three ship killer drives left. I'm assuming you're going to throw that big hunk of iron down there into the sun?"

I'd only been Captain a few days, and I already treasured competent subordinates. "That's about the size of it."

"Do you want an in-flight reconfiguration to maximize nucleosynthetic disruption?"

"I thought I was the telepath?"

"Only one reason to throw iron at a stellar body, Sir." He paused again, lending weight to his next words. "You realize this system is in enemy hands at the moment, right?"

"I'd call it contested, but it's academic at any rate."

He chuckled a bit at that. "It will be, anyhow. Some of the outer planets might have habitable moons."

"I'm taking full responsibility. You and the other Cadets are covered."

"Yes, sir. One system breaker coming up." With that he cut the connection. I reverted to my command space and watched the 'Sects futilely hunting for me in the direction I'd thrown my last rock. Even the Marapis had given up short jumps; their organic counterparts to our pocket drives burned less energy per jump but didn’t save as much on short ones. Some of them had enough to follow us when we ran. Most would wind up anchored here like their Soro sisters and any other 'Sects foolish enough to follow an Imperial ship to a red giant star.

That's it, Dabig. You've gone too far.

Foreign lethargy gripped me. I pushed aside the system view in my command space, shoved away the chart of local systems I'd intended to review next, and narrowed my focus down to the ship itself. I stripped away systems; power, weapons, armor, life support, until only the corridors and the Cadets populating them remained. With only six thousand bodies in a ship built to comfortably house fifteen thousand, I made out individuals easily. Most sat in one spot, working, or moved at a leisurely pace from one location to another, but one shot through the ship like a homing missile.

Guy. Coming for me. I pinged Quick with an image of my map and a single word, 'come'. He moved the moment the image reached him, but I could tell he wouldn't get to me in time.

Get back to your post, Delnot!

My command, sent directly from my mind to his, sheeted off him like water. He forced open one of the three slow opening doors to the bridge, and I belatedly fired off a command locking the remaining two. Despite a sudden, pink-tinged urge to snap his neck, I needed him. I reached out again, this time not trying to speak with him, but instead mimicking his assault on my mind.

The moment my mental probe connected he stopped pushing at the middle door. Instead, he slumped to the ground, resting on one knee, both his hands braced on the door to keep him from sliding further. Our minds and essies struggled against one another in a war for control of both our bodies. Without words, I directed my own to ignore the lethargy he'd pricked me with and focus on shutting him down without permanent damage.

Dimly perceived in the haze of my command space, my bridge crew reacted to the unexpected sound of the outer door opening. My steward moved to her post, and my bodyguards moved to either side of the entrance. Neither would fully augment for at least a few more years. If Guy made it through the door, he could tear them apart despite their combined wealth of combat experience. He pushed through my control and started to force open the middle door. Quick moved in our direction, but by the time he arrived this would end one way or another.

I needed to end this quickly.

My power displays flashed before my eyes, along with a wordless query. I assented, and the 'fuel stores' bar dropped from six percent down to five. Imposed lethargy dropped away, and Guy froze in place, no longer pushing at the door.

Should we shut him down permanently?

The question shocked me out of my momentary thrill of victory. I'd promised to return all of my Cadets home, and while the 'Sects might make a liar of me, I'd be damned if I did it myself.

I need to speak with him.

On the far side of the door, Guy sat down cross-legged, every action controlled by my essie and my own subconscious. When his thoughts reached me, they stank of exhausted, defeated sweat.

I failed. Go ahead. End me.

Mindful of my wary bridge crew, I kept my own words limited to his head and mine.

What flaming clutter are you spouting now, Guy?

He jerked as if I'd slapped him, his involuntary reaction overriding even my control of his body.

My mission.

I fired a quick text message to Quick, bidding him to return to the task I'd set. In my command space, his icon changed direction instantly. I shook my head, gel squishing against my cheeks.

Explain. Quickly. I don't have time for this. I have a trap to set for the 'Sects, and I need to know where we're going next.

His head drooped, another involuntary reaction. My essie marked each motion, noting that he might break my hold by making himself move enough. I ignored it and focused on his words.

The Empress ordered me, in the event of Tiamat's captain defying any of the Sanctions, to terminate her immediately.

I froze, shocked despite what Commandant De'Lann's memories had inferred. The Empress herself had sent Guy to assassinate someone. The fact that the Empress had sent a Cadet to execute a potential traitor stunned me less than the fact that I'd become the target of her order. My momentary loss of control didn't slip by Guy. He twitched, and that motion brought me out of my fugue. I clamped down on him, hard.

Look at it this way, Guy. I'm not Captain of the Tiamat, am I?

He deadpanned his reply.

That's sophistry and you know it.

I sighed, the sound artificial in my command space, equally unreal in my connection with Guy.

I might not be defying a Sanction.

His reply came immediately.

You might not be breaking two. You're certainly breaking one. 'No destroying systems capable of supporting life'.

Yeah. Well. I'll compromise with you. When we get back to Imperial space, I'll go with you willingly to the Empress. She can rule on whether I've actually broken a Sanction. If she says I have, you can kill me then.

His assent came in the form of an end to his resistance. His barriers fell, and his mind lay open to me. I released him, backing out of his mind carefully to avoid damaging anything. A moment later, he returned to himself.

But a tiny, shielded Guy hovered in the back of my brain beside Jodi, Wendy, and the others.

"Okay, Kid. Get ready to launch as soon as First Officer Quick tells us he's ready."

"Um, okay. I've been focused on keeping us hidden, and Tomas has been kinda secretive. What are we launching?"

I stopped. Up until now I'd just made plans, prepared, discussed things as much by action as by word. When I told Echidna what I planned, I'd be stepping across a personal Rubicon. I bit my lip and shunted over the plans for our jury-rigged weapon.

"Oh." Her voice tiny, Echidna continued, each word dragged from her. "I'm sorry, Captain. I need Imperial approval to launch that weapon." Before I could reply, she spoke again, her normal energetic self. "Imperial approval received! Nice! Launching star-killer the moment Tomas has it ready!"