Captain Hadad waited until the debris field had partially dissipated before moving on to the next phase of the plan. “Tuck us in port side aft, just forward of the engines,” he ordered, “thrusters only. I don’t want to leave a trail while we’re adjusting our position.”

“Aye aye, Cap’n,” Xuilan acknowledged, bringing the thrusters to life as she adeptly maneuvered Gyrfalcon to its new position. By the time she shut them down, they were close enough to Tyr’s hull they could practically reach out and touch it, the much larger ship giving them more than adequate cover.

“Slavko, bring Morgana online,” Remi ordered, moving on to the next item on the checklist.

“Aye aye, Cap’n,” the gunner responded, activating the same device that had saved them from the Aggaaddub fleet during their attack on Freya. “Fata Morgana is up and running, and we’ve extended the field to cover the Gyrfalcon’s energy signature.”

“Excellent work,” he said in approval, before thumbing the intercom switch. “We’re all set up here, Mairead,” he informed the engineer. “Take us down to minimal levels but be ready to bring us back up to full power when our target arrives on station.”

“Roger that,” the Tinker replied, even as they could sense the power dimming across the board, with secondary and tertiary systems being cut down to practically nothing or shut off completely.

The captain leaned back in his chair and shrugged. “And now we wait,” he told them. “This could take a while, so I’m setting up a rotation for the bridge and engineering. Xuilan and Slavko, the three of us will take eight-hour shifts here, while Isi and Samara will do the same alongside Mairead down in engineering.” He glanced over at the Protean. “I take it that won’t be a problem?” he asked her.

“No problem,” she assured him, “in fact, I have a Cognate for that… Mashad Dillosh. I’ll have Guardian get him warmed up in the bullpen.”

“If the Troika show up during your shift, your first move should be to wake her up, despite having Precursor Engineers on tap,” Remi warned her.

“No issues on my end,” Isi agreed. “I’ve backed her up before, though Mairead won’t like us minding her shop. You know how she gets.”

“If she has an issue, send her to me,” he told them. “It could be weeks before we see another ship out here, so unless she’s prepared to stay alert for a few hundred hours, she’ll do the smart thing. After a fair amount of grumbling, I’m sure,” he sighed. “Until then, Xuilan, you have the first watch,” he ordered. “Wake Slavko in eight, and so on. Questions?”

Everyone shook their heads. “Then I suggest those not on alert get some rest. This could take a while.” He rose from his seat as the others followed suit, with Xuilan settling in and making herself comfortable for the shift ahead. As Remi headed for his quarters, he was unsurprised to discover Samara at his side.

“Something on your mind?” he asked her.

“Guardian and I have been discussing your Yīqún signature camouflage,” she informed him. “He’s been digging into the original schematics and thinks he can come up with something that’ll work.”

“Glad to hear it,” he nodded. “So, what’s the problem?”

“Not a problem, exactly, but it’s going to take time and materials to construct. I figured since I’d be down in engineering anyway…” She left the rest of that thought hanging.

Remi sighed once again. “And you want me to clear things with Mairead, so she doesn’t go apeshit,” he guessed.

“Better she hears it from you,” Samara agreed. “I mean, I’ll handle it, but don’t blame me if she ends up with something broken before she calms down.”

“I’ll make the call,” he told her, holding up his hands in a placating gesture. “She won’t be happy about it no matter what I say, but I can at least soften the blow.”

“Fair enough,” she smiled. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” he answered, raising his eyebrow as she continued to keep pace with him. “Something else you wanted to discuss?”

“Not discuss, exactly,” she purred, weaving her arm through his.

Remi came to a halt, extricating himself from her grasp. “I thought I’d made myself clear,” he said firmly. “I’m not making that mistake again.”

“Come on,” she urged, “we’re both adults here, with time on our hands. Why not spend it doing something… pleasurable?” Her eyes sparkled with feline deviltry, an enticing smile playing at her lips.

“Because it’s never just about pleasure with you, Samara,” he fired back. “You always have some ulterior motive in mind. Last time was to keep me placated, so what is it this time? What is it you don’t want me to see?” He glared at the Protean, daring her to disagree.

Samara rolled her eyes. “I swear, you have to be one of the most paranoid individuals I’ve ever met,” she said theatrically. “Can’t a person simply be lonely? Just want to rekindle an old flame? Does that make me a terrible person?”

“Let’s not go there,” Remi cautioned. “We both have more than enough skeletons in our respective closets.”

“Well, look at you, Mister ‘High-and Mighty,’” she sneered. “When did the pirate become a damn puritan?”

“I’m no Puritan,” he snorted. “Just a little warier is all. Besides, with all those alien revenants riding shotgun inside your skull, it’s a little crowded for my taste.”

“Fine,” she snapped, “if that’s how you feel, then I won’t trouble you any longer.” She turned on her heel and stormed off, heading for her own quarters.

“Samara? Samara!” he called after her without response before groaning and shaking his head. “You could have handled that better,” he muttered, trudging back to his own stateroom.

The days passed slowly. Mairead was unhappy regarding having assistants thrust upon her, as well as Samara’s little side project, as expected, but Remi finally calmed her ruffled feathers. As time dragged on with no sign of the Troika, nerves began to fray, much as they had during the mission to Earth. The crew stayed out of each other’s way as much as possible; the ship seemed much smaller and more cramped after exploring Tyr’s massive compartments.

A week went by. Two. Fatigue became a factor as the constant rotation continued, setting their already jangled nerves even further on edge. Samara studiously avoided the captain unless it was absolutely necessary, a fact observed by all but commented on by none. Mairead grew increasingly prickly having her domain invaded, though Samara effortlessly rebuffed the Tinker’s efforts to drive her off, like a duck shedding water.

As the third week began, growing concern forced Remi to check in with the purser regarding supplies, food, and fuel especially. They were using practically none of the latter, but he’d been certain they would have spotted something by now. Isi assured him they had plenty of provisions on stock, enough to remain on station for another two months at a minimum… longer, if they started rationing. His concerns assuaged, he fell back into the routine of watching the clock slowly tick onward, as boredom and ennui took their toll.

Four days later, something registered on the detection grid.

“Cap’n. Cap’n!” Slavko shouted over the intercom, rousing Remi from an unrestful slumber. He staggered awake, wiping his eyes as he reached for the call button.

“What is it?” he mumbled, flipping on the lights as he sat up.

“I got something on sensors,” the gunner informed him. “Still a ways out, but it looks like a Troika vessel.”

Remi was instantly awake. “ETA?” he demanded.

“Assuming he doesn’t change course?” Slavko double-checked his readings. “In just under two hours, he’ll pass within twenty thousand kilometers, unless he spots us. If that happens, I’d expect him somewhat sooner.”

“Right,” he nodded, pulling on his boots. “Wake everyone up and get them ready. I’ll be on the bridge in three minutes.” With that, he cut the circuit, rushing out of his stateroom and into the corridor, arriving on the bridge forty-five seconds early as he threw himself into his seat. “Talk to me,” he barked, just as Xuilan dashed past him and took her position at the pilot’s console.

“Troika vessel is holding steady on course, ETA is unchanged,” Slavko reported. “Still too far out to get a better ID, at least not without raising power levels for a return pulse.”

“Belay that,” he ordered. “We don’t want to spook them.” Assessing the tactical situation, he thumbed the intercom. “Mairead, status report,” he ordered.

Her response came back immediately. “Same as it’s been for three weeks now,” she drawled. “We’re on minimum power, and Fata Morgana is still masking us, near as I can tell.”

He did some rough calculations in his head. “All right, in… thirty-eight minutes, I want you to trigger the Freya transponder code, but keep the signal low-powered and intermittent. Let them think it’s a damaged short circuit. Can you do that?”

“Piece of cake,” she agreed.

“Okay then,” he continued, “assuming they take the bait, give it… hmm… twenty-four more minutes, then bring up Samara’s Yīqún decoy. Slowly. Let them think it’s proximity that’s causing the signal boost. Xuilan, send a sensor feed down to engineering for her to monitor,” he ordered the pilot, interrupting his instructions to the Tinker.

She made a couple of adjustments on her console. “Done,” she informed him.

“Got it,” Mairead confirmed a moment later.

“Okay. I assume Samara is down there by now?”

“Yeah… she’s here,” the Tinker responded, her tone suddenly wintry.

“Have her verify the decoy is ready to go, then send her up here,” Remi ordered. “And have Isi throw something together we can eat while at our stations. Might be the last hot meal we get for a while.”

“I’ll let him know,” she answered. “Mairead, clear.” With that, she cut the circuit.

Remi leaned back in his chair. “And now… we wait,” he said with an air of informality.

Samara appeared on the bridge a few minutes later. “You wanted to see me?” she asked him, far more casually than recent events would normally warrant.

He turned to face her. “How do you want to play this?” Remi asked the Protean.

“That depends how overconfident they’re feeling,” she answered. “If they actually dock with Tyr, I’ll go in through the airlock and neutralize the Troika ship, then mop up the search party at my leisure. If they send a shuttle instead, then I’d prefer to wait and hitch a ride back with them, but unfortunately, that’s not a viable option.”

“Too great a chance of them spotting Gyrfalcon,” he guessed.

“Exactly,” she agreed. “If they play it that way our best chance is for me to take out the search party as quickly as possible, then pilot it back to the ship myself and hope they don’t realize it’s now under new management… at least until it’s too late to stop me.”

He drummed his fingers on the armrest. “Dicey,” he said.

“Very,” she confirmed. “But what other choice is there?”

Remi pondered the question, then shook his head. “Nothing that comes to mind. You want some backup?” he offered. “Slavko, Isi, and I can cover your six.”

For the first time in days, Samara smiled. “Thanks, but you’d just slow me down,” she chuckled. “I’m faster alone.”

He nodded at that, accepting her judgment. “I wish there was some way we could force them to dock,” he mused. “It would simplify things on our end.”

“We’d have to tempt them with something,” she shrugged, “something they want so badly, they’ll throw caution to the wind and bore straight in. Something like…”

Samara froze as an idea struck her. “Can you do it?” she asked suddenly.

“Can I do what?” Remi responded.

She threw a scowl at him. “Wasn’t talking to you,” she snapped, her conversation going subvocal as she hashed something out with Guardian, or perhaps one of the others. At least that was Remi’s guess, being on the outside looking in. Finally, she turned her attention back to him.

“Okay, we have an idea,” Samara informed him. “It’s a little tricky… not to mention a little risky… but if it works, it should give us what we want.”

“Which is?” he inquired.

She grinned fiercely at him. “A cocky and careless Troika ship docking directly with Tyr, eager to claim the prize.”

“What prize?” he demanded, growing exasperated.

“Why, the Repository, of course,” she chuckled.

Remi gave out a low whistle. “That’s some serious bait,” he told her. “You weren’t kidding about the risky part.” He turned the idea over in his head, and in theory, it sounded plausible, but there were potential problems he could see as well. “Does the Repository give off some sort of signal they can track?” he asked her.

“Not normally, no, but there’s a way to bring it to their attention,” she explained. “If I hit it with an antineutrino burst, it should show up on their sensors.”

“Let me guess, you want to take it back to Tyr and use her engines for the burst,” he predicted.

“That’s the plan,” she agreed. “I lure them in, just as we planned, hang out of sight near the airlock, wait for the search party to pass by, slip into the ship and secure it, then finish the survivors,” she calmly explained. “Unless you’d like me to keep one or two alive for interrogation,” Samara said as an afterthought.

“I leave that to your discretion,” Remi demurred. No sense in complicating things more than they already were. “Samara, are you sure about this?” he asked carefully. “Because there’s not a lot of wiggle room here if things go south. If they really go bad, you could end up handing them the Repository. I know you don’t want that.”

“You’re right, I don’t,” she agreed. “In fact, I’ve already come closer to that than I care to think about. But given the situation, the planning we’ve done, and the snare we’ve set out… I think it’s worth the risk.”

Part of him wanted to disagree, but Samara was right. They’d come too far to back out now. “All right, we’ll do it your way,” he agreed. “What do you need from us?”

“I’m tempted to say ‘nothing’, but given how many variables we’re currently juggling…” Her voice trailed off as she considered her options. “I think I’ll take you up on that offer for backup. Might not need it… in fact, I’m pretty sure I won’t… but if I do, I’ll need it in a big damn hurry.”

“You’ll have it,” Remi vowed, rising to his feet. “Slavko, find Isi, and then report to the Arms locker,” he ordered.

“... time to gear up.”