“How much longer?”

Mairead emerged from the engine housing, glaring at her captain as she wiped a sleeve across her face. “It’ll take as long as it takes,” she growled. “Whole damn drive system got overloaded, and don’t even get me started on the antimatter manifold subassembly. I’ll have to cannibalize parts from other systems just to get that functioning again.”

Remi sighed. “Bottom line it for me.”

She pulled an electromagnetic probe from her toolkit. “I’ll need a day at least to get the engines back online,” she informed him, “and that doesn’t include the damage we took from weapons fire. I’ve got it contained for now, but just sealing off the bulkheads is a band-aid fix. I need to actually seal and reinforce the breaches, and that’s not counting all the secondary systems that were affected.”

Her captain refused to be swayed. “How. Long?”

The Tinker just shook her head. “Two days minimum to get her moving again, assuming I don’t run into any other problems. The rest?” She shrugged. “A month, maybe more. Most of that I can repair while we’re underway, but it means leaving ourselves vulnerable if we go up against another Troika ship.” She gave him a hard look. “Hell, we wouldn’t even be in this mess if you hadn’t demanded something ‘dramatic’,” she snorted, making angry finger quotes.

“Considering it saved us from being blown to bits, it was worth it,” he snapped. “I don’t tell you how to fix engines, so don’t tell me how to fight an enemy ship. We don’t know if that Hegemony cruiser got a message out, and if they did, there’s a damn good chance their buddies are going to come gunning for us.” He returned her stare, measure for measure. “If that happens, then we’re dead.”

“I’m one person, and I can only work so fast,” she fired back, growing increasingly irritated. “Like I said, it’ll be done when it’s done.” Giving him a final scowl, she crawled back into the housing, the sound of muffled curses echoing from inside the equipment.

Throttling back a few curses of his own, Remi stalked out of the compartment and headed for the bridge. He’d always given Mairead latitude to get the job done, but that didn’t include tolerating insubordination. He was the captain, damn it, and she needed to respect that. He got she was angry, making an allowance since Tinkers always regarded their ship as theirs, with the skipper only nominally in charge. Any commander worth their salt accepted that, but there was a line one did not cross… even for Tinkers. The only problem was that he couldn’t just slap her down. Not only did he need her services rather desperately at the moment, but they’d also sailed together for years. The crew was family, dysfunctional as hell, maybe, but a family nonetheless. They might squabble occasionally, but there was always mutual respect.

At the moment, however, he wasn’t feeling the love, and that galled him in ways he’d never fully appreciated until now.

Passing one of the ship’s magazines for ammo storage, he spotted Isi lugging a toolkit, a much smaller version than the one Mairead jealously guarded. The purser turned and noticed him as well, giving him a wave.

“You switching clans on me?” Remi asked.

“Just helping Mairead out,” he shrugged. “She’s got her hands full with the big stuff, so I figured I’d do what I could. I can handle the basic patching jobs, at least. We need you and the others on the bridge, so that leaves me.” He smiled, shifting the kit from one shoulder to the other. “Besides, my job description’s always been sort of vague.”

“I appreciate that,” he said honestly. Isi was the odd man out to a certain degree; a jack-of-all-trades surrounded by specialists. The crew manifest listed him as Chief mate, Purser, and Supply officer, but in addition, he was also their cook, assisted Mairead in damage assessment, stood watch when they were short-handed, and dealt with their sanitation needs. While he lacked the specialized training required for a pilot or gunner, he more than made up for it by lending a hand wherever it was needed. Remi was well aware he couldn’t fly the ship without him, yet he was by far the most unassuming member of the crew. Isi was the glue that kept them together, the one who played peacemaker when there was conflict, and the one who lent a sympathetic ear when it just got to be too much.

And yet despite all of that, far too often he’d allowed himself to take the big man for granted.

“Mairead’s pissed,” he confided. “She blames me for wrecking her pretty new boat.”

Isi just chuckled. “You know how she is. Unless she’s hammering away on some hunk of metal and cussing up a blue streak, she doesn’t feel fulfilled.” The two men shared a brief laugh before he continued. “Besides, she’ll get over it. She always does.”

“Good point,” Remi nodded. Despite him getting his hackles up over her attitude, deep down, he knew she didn’t really mean it. It was just her way of blowing off steam, even though it was difficult sometimes to remember that.

“You need anything?” he asked, wanting to acknowledge his efforts yet not embarrass him.

“Naw, I’m good,” he smiled. “Gonna knock out a couple more patches and then get started on dinner. I’ll give you all a yell when it’s ready.” He leaned in, speaking in more conspiratorial tones. “Don’t worry about Mairead. I’ll talk to her.”

Remi had no response to that, so instead, he clapped him on the shoulder before heading to the bridge. Xuilan and Slavko both looked up as he took his seat. “Status,” he insisted.

“No vessels on sensors,” Xuilan reported, “though the current range is severely degraded. Between the damage we sustained during the battle and the spreading debris field, the detection grid is less than half of normal.”

That was to be expected, though it was still unwelcome news. Until Mairead finished repairs, their situation was precarious; limited ability to spot potential threats, and unable to run if they did. The wreckage of the Hegemony ship helped camouflage their position, though it was a mixed blessing. While the metallic and radioactive detritus made for excellent cover, it would also likely draw ships in to investigate. They might be able to repeat their achievement and ambush an unwary visitor, but it was even more likely any approaching vessel would be on their guard, prepared to shoot at the first sign of trouble. If that happened, they’d have few options.

“Stealth system is still down,” Slavko reported, picking up the thread. “Mairead isn’t optimistic about restoring it either. She says she’ll do what she can, but not only is it a low priority with the engines offline, it’s also a complicated piece of Eleexxi hardware. The only experience she has with it is what she picked up on board.”

If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

While also no surprise, that bit of news was even more troubling than the sensors. The stealth system had been their ace in the hole, and up till now had performed beyond their wildest expectations. Losing it meant they would have to operate even more discreetly, and there was a limit to how inconspicuous a ship this size could be. Space was vast, which benefited them, but given the amount of Troika activity they’d already observed in this region, he was worried. According to Samara, the prevalence of enemy vessels would only increase the nearer they drew to New Terra. Eventually, their luck would run out.

Losing their advantage turned an already dangerous mission into one that was little more than an exotic means of suicide.

Despite his concerns, his face betrayed none of them. They were committed now, plus turning back in some ways was even more perilous than continuing onward. There was no better crew in the entire Corsair clan, and their ship, borrowed though it might be, was the pinnacle of Troika achievement… or at least it had been, prior to getting shot full of holes. So chances were slim. They’d seen worse odds and survived them, and they’d survive this as well. He had to believe that, for the others, if not for himself.

But of course, it wasn’t just about them. For two centuries Terrans had struggled to survive in the harshest of environments and considering just how badly the deck was stacked against them, that they were still here at all had to count as a miracle. The problem was they’d played this hand for all it was worth, and the dealer was demanding to see their hole card. Ever since their mission to Earth, humanity had gambled and raised and wagered as if they had an ace up their sleeve, when in fact all they held in reserve was a lowly two of clubs. Everything they’d accomplished was built from the biggest bluff of all, but the moment they flipped that card, it would all come crashing down.

Unless… they could lay claim to Terra Nova. Accomplish that minor feat, and that lowly deuce would magically transform into an ace after all. The only problem was the Troika knew exactly what they were after and would readily throw without hesitation the total of their Three-In-One Uber-dynasty against them. A single ship, against an alien armada.

But you don’t need to defeat the Troika, he realized in a sudden burst of clarity. You just have to sneak past them. So stop thinking like a damn Admiral and start thinking like a smuggler.

As it just so happened, Captain Remi Hadad of the Corsairs had some experience with running contraband past alien blockades.

He leaned back in his chair, the hint of a smile playing on his features. A low chuckle escaped his lips as he considered the possibilities.

“I know that look,” Slavko said shrewdly. “You’ve got a plan, don’t you?”

“A plan? Something that’ll get us all killed, you mean,” Xuilan said unhappily.

“Oh, ye of little faith,” he grinned. “We’ve made it this far, haven’t we?”

“So far,” the gunner allowed.

“Then hear me out,” he continued. “Assuming Mairead can’t restore the stealth system, we’ll need to revise our tactics. Given just how big the cosmos is, and how much distance there is between suns, our best bet is to stay as deep in the black as possible. Avoiding star systems like the plague gives us the best chance of eluding their blockade.” He leaned back in his chair and crossed his legs. “See? Nothing to it.”

“Except there’s one star system we can’t avoid, and they know it,” Xuilan said pointedly. “Eventually, we have to come to New Terra. We can dodge their patrols, slip through their pickets, and steer clear of their fleets all we want, but in the end, all they need to do is surround that system and wait. The Troika have enough ships to envelop that system, so what the hell do we do then?”

“After all those eons of watching their ships being annihilated, they have to be a little leery of getting too close to whatever’s guarding that world,” Remi reminded her. “I don’t know how big the kill zone is, but I guarantee they’ll give it a wide berth. I don’t care how many ships they have, a perimeter that size will definitely have gaps… gaps that we can exploit,” he smiled.

“Let’s say all of that is true,” Slavko argued, picking up the thread. “Without a functioning stealth system, they’ll still see us on approach a light year away. There is no nearby nebula for us to hide in, and even if there were, that’s the last place we should go, because it’s the first place they’d look.” The gunner looked disheartened. “You’re right about how big the galaxy is, but it’s not big enough to lose ourselves in. Not when they know we’re coming.”

“All right, I admit the plan needs a little fine-tuning,” the captain allowed, “but what other choice do we have? Do you want us to just quit? Turn back with our tail between our legs? Especially when we’re this close?”

Xuilan and Slavko glanced awkwardly at one another. “Maybe... it’s something we should consider,” the pilot ventured. “I mean, we gave it our best shot. There’s no shame in admitting it was too much for a single ship and crew.”

Remi took a deep breath and slowly let it back out. He glanced at each of them, weighing their character and resolve. Slavko looked away, unable to maintain his gaze, and while Xuilan’s chin quivered and her eyes were misty, she still held fast. He nodded to himself as he decided.

“No.”

They stared at him in confusion. “No? What do you mean, ‘no’?” the gunner asked, confused.

“I mean, we’re not turning back,” he clarified. “We’ve come farther than any other Terran vessel, and we are not just going to walk away. Not when New Terra is this close. Not when we still have a chance. Don’t forget, we’re on an Eleexxi ship with a computer-generated Troika spokesman to talk us through. We still have a fighting chance.”

“A ship shot full of holes, and a program that crashed the last time we tried using it,” Xuilan reminded him, bitterness tinging her words.

“Then we have until our arrival at Terra Nova to improve our odds,” Remi growled, “because we are not turning back.”

“But…” Slavko began.

“I am in command here!” Remi thundered, cowing the others into silence, “and I say we make for Terra Nova. I have listened to your objections, and they have been noted, but as captain, the decision is mine, and mine alone.” He shot a glance at Xuilan. “Make your heading for the Precursor homeworld, putting as much distance between us and the nearby star systems as possible.”

“Aye aye, Cap’n,” she whispered.

Rising to his feet, he turned and made for the hatch, pausing as it slid open. “And if anyone wishes to challenge my authority… you know where to find me,” purposefully keeping his back to them to make a point. He waited a few moments, giving them an opportunity to pick up the gauntlet he’d just thrown at their feet. When they failed to respond, he exited the bridge without a word.

----------------------------------------

Admiral Kichirō Van Aalst sipped from his glass, grimacing as he pored over the latest tactical updates. The situation with the Yīqún was growing steadily worse, despite the best efforts of the Alliance. Freya herself had fought several engagements against the machines but had survived each of them, though not without cost. He’d also received word of a new weapon the Avatars were working on, one of the few bright spots in his pile of reports. Unfortunately, it seemed to have stalled amidst the research and development phase, and there was nothing in the report that suggested when it might be ready for deployment. He sighed, tossing it back onto the pile, taking another sip as he reached for the next folder.

The hatch to his office slid open as his Executive Officer burst inside. “Sir… we’ve just received a communiqué,” he said in a rush, holding out a tablet with a trembling hand.

The Admiral raised an eyebrow at his second in command. “Oh? And what does it say?” he asked.

The other man swallowed. “Sir…. you really need to read this yourself.”

His second eyebrow now joined his first. The XO was not a man given to hysteria or panic, so for him to be reacting like this over a simple message spoke volumes. Taking the tablet, he quickly scanned the dispatch… only to vault to his feet as he immediately read it a second time, and then a third, his expression now as stunned as his subordinate’s.

The message was brief, a set of stellar coordinates in the Scutum-Centaurus Arm, followed by a single word:

… EXODUS.