The Tu’udh’hizh’ak battlecruiser swallowed our ship whole, overriding the controls and tractoring us into their shuttle bay, despite our best efforts. I wracked my digital brain, struggling to come up with a way out of this latest disaster when a desperate plan came to me.

“Okay, I’ve got an idea,” I told Raven. “It’s not much, but it’s all I can think of at the moment.”

“At this point I’ll try anything,” she said nervously.

“It’s simple. We hide,” I told her.

“Hide? Hide where?” she asked. “Once they sweep the ship for stowaways, they’ll vacuum the computers dry searching for us.”

“Which is why we’re going to crash the computer network as we leave,” I explained. “With any luck, that’ll hide any trace of our being here.”

“You still haven’t said where,” she pointed out.

I pulled up the internal cameras and showed her an image of the maintenance bay. “Right there,” I gestured.

She peered at the screen and then looked at me askance. “You think they won’t check those?” she said dubiously.

“I didn’t say it was a brilliant plan,” I said, exasperated, “just the only one I could think of.”

Raven shook her head and then shrugged. “I’ve got nothing better on tap.”

I nodded, taking her by the hand. “Then we’d better hurry. They’ll be here soon.”

Crashing a computer network is child’s play when you’re doing it from the inside. We inputted the instructions on a countdown timer, allowing us to get clear before we triggered a cascade failure, one that would hopefully wipe any trace of us from its memory. The transfer itself was simple enough, and now our gestalts were buried within the programming files of Maintenance Drone G6711-843YBK and Utility Drone 1195T-JXR6032, respectively. We shut down the nonessential elements of our code and slowed our clock rates to a crawl, desperately hoping to avoid detection.

We had to pass ourselves off as nothing more than standard equipment, and they usually keep drones powered down in standby mode. We had to do the same, which left us with no way to monitor our surroundings. Everything about this vessel and the circumstances in which they’d found it was sure to trigger the more paranoid elements of Tu’udh’hizh’ak behavior. They’d search the ship from top to bottom, and when they found nothing… well, who knew what they’d do after that.

Even worse, we didn’t dare communicate for fear of being caught. There’s nothing more terrifying than hiding alone in the dark, surrounded by the enemy, wondering if each moment was your last. I’m willing to bet the Valkyries and Corsairs would gladly back me up on that, and I made a mental note to ask either Rúna or Remi if our paths ever crossed again.

Time passed. Slowly.

I waited until three days had passed before I dared to take a peek. I powered up one of the drone’s exterior cameras and glanced around the maintenance bay, spotting a pair of Chell technicians examining one of the secondary systems. Thankfully, their backs were to me, failing to notice my awakening. They huddled over some piece of hardware, deep in conversation, so I took a chance and brought an exterior mic online, tying in the Chell linguistic files I had stored as well.

“There is nothing here. Nothing,” the first Chell said in dismay. “What is it the Masters are searching for?”

“If they wished us to know, they would inform us,” his partner answered. “It is not our place to question their orders.”

“No, of course not,” the first one said in a rush. “But if we knew what they sought, it might aid in our search.”

Hmmm…

So either the Masters didn’t know about us, or if they did, they weren’t sharing that bit of intel with their servitors. Interesting. Of course we had never interacted with the Empire directly, only the Brotherhood splinter group. Possibly the Masters were just being thorough, given the mystery we’d presented to them.

That was the Joker in the deck. If they’d picked up Elder Brother and his cohorts, what exactly would he tell them? Certainly not the truth, as that was liable to get them seated in a torturer’s chair, while the Masters stripped every last secret from their minds. Maybe they were resistant to telepathic coercion, but history has shown there are plenty of other methods available.

All right, let’s assume Elder Brother sent out a distress signal, requesting assistance. The message gets routed to the nearest Empire vessels… which only makes sense when you think about it. Can’t risk the Eleexx or the Aggaaddub getting their hands on them, as they would likely be spirited away and questioned for every scrap of knowledge they possessed. As much as the three races backstab one another, you’d think they issued them daggers at birth.

So the Brotherhood gets picked up by the Tu’udh’hizh’ak, all the while claiming to be loyal little servitors, forced to abandon their vessel due to… what? Mechanical failure? If so, they’d be praying the ship never saw the light of day again, cause if it did it would be easy to disprove the lie. Risky, that; I mean, look what happened.

No. They’d claim someone hijacked them, that pirates and terrorists had forced them off the ship. Which begged the question, just how accurate a description did they give the Masters? Was that why they were still examining the computer systems, or was it merely a coincidence? As much as Elder Brother would love to see us rendered down to mere code fragments, he had to be shitting his pants worrying what we might tell the Masters if they caught us. We were a huge loose end to their plans, one he had to deal with personally to have any hope of survival.

Assuming my train of logic was correct, then the Empire was currently searching for anything but Avatars, leaving the Brotherhood free to run us down on their own. Which left open the question of Heckle and Jeckle over there; specifically, who were they working for? The Empire, or the Brotherhood? Judging by the scrap of conversation I’d overheard, my first guess was the Empire… but what if they were actually following instructions from the Brotherhood, and didn’t know it? It wouldn’t even be difficult; all a Brotherhood operative had to do was grab some random servitor and tell them, “The Masters have a job for you”. What are they going to do, argue? Not bloody likely.

I spent the next few minutes eavesdropping on the two but learned nothing of further interest. All of which led me to one inescapable conclusion… that we had to get the hell out of here.

Now.

I watched the pair go, then waited another thirty minutes just to be safe, before plugging a data connection into the other drone.

“Raven!” I shouted. “We need to leave immediately.”

I heard her thoughts an instant later. “Why? What’s happening?” she asked me.

“I’ll explain on the way,” I told her, “but the longer we stay the more dangerous it gets. We’ve got to escape before they realize we’re here.”

“Please tell me you have a plan,” she sighed, expecting the worst. I mean, come on. It wasn’t my fault we got captured. It was just bad luck, is all.

... yeah, keep telling yourself that, Alphad. Idiot.

“The beginnings of one, at least,” I said. “We rewrite the drone’s programming and wheel ourselves out to the shuttle bay. First vessel that comes along, we board and transfer our programs. It doesn’t matter where it goes, as long as it gets us out of the search grid.”

There was a pause as she mulled it over, no doubt looking for flaws. “All right,” she agreed, apparently not finding any worth discussing. “And if we’re stopped?”

“Hey, we’re just a couple of stupid drones,” I snickered, aiming for a bit of levity. “No one will pay attention to us, or care what we’re doing. Even if they do spot us, they’ll just assume we’re following someone else’s orders.”

I could sense the hesitation in her voice, not that I blamed her. Our track record hadn’t been all that great. But what other choice did we have?

“Then let’s get moving before I change my mind,” she said at last.

“We proceed together, like we’re riding in a parade,” I told her. “No trying to hide, that’ll only arouse suspicion. Stay on my right a comfortable distance apart and match my speed and direction as closely as you can. Remember, you’re pretending to be a machine.”

“In case you’ve forgotten,” she said dryly, “I’m not actually pretending here.”

“Right,” I answered, stifling the urge to smack myself. “Ready? On three. One… two… three.” We began moving in unison, synchronizing our efforts perfectly, our wheels rolling easily on the smooth surface. Luckily, we were only a short distance away from our destination, since they’d taken our ship aboard center amidships. The shuttle bay was just a couple hundred meters away. There was a moment of concern when we reached the airlock, but much to my relief, no guards were posted. I guess they decided that since the ship was secured and empty, there was no point.

There were plenty of Chell servitors in the corridors, going about their business, but just as I’d hoped, none played the slightest bit of attention to us. They’d programmed the drones to avoid living beings, so we dutifully swerved from the paths of those that came close. We had to go down two levels to gain entrance to the main bay itself, though thankfully the Tu’udh’hizh’ak had provided drone-specific lifts for that, allowing us to avoid the servitors for a brief period. Hey, I’ll take what I can get.

Emerging on the lower level, we made our way to the entrance. This time there were guards posted, but they barely glanced in our direction. And why would they? There were maintenance drones scattered throughout the ship, designed to simplify their mission. We’d passed several during our brief journey, and every single one of them was treated as little more than mobile furniture. They were ubiquitous, and therefore invisible.

Just like us.

We found a convenient charging station tucked away in one corner and plugged in, exchanging a brief message before powering down to standby mode. Any other time I would have amused myself during the wait, but given the situation… not to mention our rather disturbing string of bad luck… I remained focused on our surroundings. I suspect Raven was doing the same, though I couldn’t be certain. Any further communication between risked detection and capture. Well, re-capture, I suppose, given our current circumstances. It simply wasn’t worth the risk.

It wasn’t long before a platoon of security arrived in the shuttle bay, taking up positions surrounding one of the landing platforms as an energy field snapped into place. That had me sitting up and taking notice, as it likely meant that a shuttle was inbound. The platform itself dropped away, receding downward as the field hummed and glowed a translucent indigo, while they positioned the security detail in a tight formation.

All of which suggested that whoever was on that shuttle was someone of importance… maybe even one of the Masters themselves. We still knew little about them, despite our discovery aboard the Gyrfalcon. They were telepaths, reclusive to the point of near agoraphobia, preferring instead to conduct their affairs through their Chell servitors. If one was coming here…

There was no way this was a coincidence.

All of which made it even more imperative for us to escape. Given that our target shuttle seemed to house some sort of VIP, it tempted me to abort and try instead for something less risky. But as I considered it, I suddenly realized this was the best thing that could have happened to us. Yes, getting aboard would be difficult, given the level of security I was seeing, but if we made it, we’d be set. If that was a Master’s shuttle, then no one in the Tu’udh’hizh’ak Empire would dare touch us. The Chell obeyed instantly and without hesitation, the unfortunate products of generations of telepathic manipulation, so anything even remotely attached to the Masters was sacrosanct. If we could pull off that minor miracle, our success was guaranteed.

The energy field dissipated as a shuttle slowly appeared in view. The platform locked back into place once more, with a deep rumbling thunk, as an honor guard took position in front of the shuttle’s airlock. As the hatch slid away, I could see an opaque tank sitting on some sort of mobile platform, looking much like a massive aquarium. Maggie and the others had told us they were amphibians, so a sealed tank made perfect sense for a mode of transport. My only regret was that I couldn’t see inside, it would have been nice to confirm my suspicions.

The honor guard took positions around the tank as they transported it off the shuttle, escorting it out of the bay while a token force remained behind to safeguard the craft itself. The timing would be crucial; if I was right, then they would do at least some basic maintenance while the Master was off coordinating the search for us. That would be the time to make our play… sneak aboard under the guise of standard repair drones, transfer our gestalt to the shuttle itself, and then wait for the Master to return, hopefully none the wiser.

Maybe it wasn’t a brilliant plan, but I had every confidence it was at least a workable one.

Less than fifteen minutes passed before another group of Chell entered the bay, dressed in some sort of coveralls and directing several smaller mobile containers, each with multiple sets of bins and drawers. I practically salivated at the sight; I might not be a Tinker myself, but I damn sure recognize a tool chest when I see one.

This was it. One minute… two, at the outside… and it would be time to make our move. I reactivated the data link, lowering the power output to the absolute bare minimum in case they were monitoring, and murmured, “... get ready. When I give the signal, we head for the shuttle.”

“Understood,” she whispered back.

The technicians began opening up their cases and plugging into the shuttle’s various readouts, checking the ship’s systems, and with them fully occupied at their task, it was now or never. I activated the drone’s motor and began moving forward, with Raven a millisecond behind me. We neared the waiting shuttle, heading for the open airlock, taking our time to avoid suspicion. If I still had a heart, it would have been pounding in my chest like a bass drum, but as we got close, it was all I could do to contain my elation. It was actually working! Just a few more meters, and…

The “technicians” suddenly turned, almost as one, and in an instant of horror, I recognized weapons in their hands. “It’s a trap!” I shouted to Raven, “Abort! Abo…”

A sudden flash, and it all went black.