Aborting the gravity-assist maneuver and rendezvousing with the other ship took time.

Samara used that time to make her final preparations, but far sooner than she would have liked the other vessel was looming large outside the porthole, a mere stone’s throw away. Azrael had already shot a line over, not trusting one from her ship, the tether secured automatically by one of Rook’s remotes.

“You do not have to do this,” Xeno said quietly, as they stood before the airlock.

“In fact, I do,” she told him, placing a gloved hand on his shoulder, still in her suit. “Just be ready to depart once I give the word.”

“We’ll be ready,” he assured her, covering her hand with his.

Samara smiled at the gesture, and the sentiment behind it. She had made few enough friends since joining the Protean Clan, and many of those she could have claimed were either long since departed, or had chosen the opposite side of the struggle like Azrael. In fact, other than Xeno and those others aboard the Rächerin, she could only think of one or two individuals who would even come close.

She chuckled to herself for a moment, wondering what Maggie would think if she listed her as a confidante?

But the moment soon passed, as she squared her shoulders. “Time to go,” she nodded, mostly to herself, as she palmed the airlock control. The hatch slid open as she stepped inside, turning to gaze back at Xeno as he lifted his arm in a silent farewell. Even though he couldn’t see her, she returned the gesture, before sealing the hatch and cycling the atmosphere. A minute later and the outer door slid open, climbing out and snapping her carabiner to the waiting tether, before pulling herself hand over hand towards the waiting ship.

“I’ll be honest, this is the last thing I would have expected from you,” she heard over the suit radio.

“No one is more surprised than I am, Azrael,” she sighed, as she made her way across the chasm between the two ships.

“Then why?” he asked. “Why sacrifice yourself? If you were planning on giving up so easily, we could have settled this down on the surface.”

“Because this is between you and me,” she answered. “It has nothing to do with the others, and they don’t deserve to have my sins spilling into their lives.”

“How noble,” Azrael answered, and there was no mistaking the mocking tone in his voice. “The problem I am having, Samara, is that this act of self-sacrifice is so very un-like you. Which leads me to the inescapable conclusion you have something else in mind.”

“What could I possibly be planning?” she demanded, as she drew nearer to his ship. “I’ve agreed to all your terms, I’m alone and unarmed, so just what is it you think I’m up to?”

“I don’t know, and that’s what concerns me,” he mused. “You are at your most dangerous when you appear the most disarming.”

Samara came to a halt. “Would you prefer I go back then?” she asked. “Would that put you at ease?”

“In fact it would, as I could easily destroy your ship from here,” he pointed out.

“Fine,” she snapped, reversing direction before starting back the way she’d come.

“Samara…” he sighed, “obviously that is not what I want. But even you have to admit this is all very much out of character for you, given our past relationship.”

“Let’s just say my last mission has made me reevaluate a few things,” she replied, as she reversed direction once more and continued on her original course.

“Ah yes, your trip to Earth,” he said thoughtfully. “Perhaps I should call you ‘Samara Al-Hajjah’ now.”

“If you like,” she shrugged. “I doubt I could explain it to you.”

“I imagine you’re correct about that.” There was a brief pause. “I have you on visual. You should arrive at the outer hatch in approximately five minutes. I will see you then.” The suit radio clicked off as Azrael disconnected.

“...looking forward to it…” she muttered under her breath, as she continued pulling herself to his vessel.

It seemed much longer than the five-minute estimate Azrael had given her, but then EVA’s and suit work always did. As she reached the end of the tether the outer airlock hatch opened, beckoning her inside. Unhooking from the safety line and making her way in took another minute as the hatch closed behind her. Through the transparent section of the inner hatch she spotted Azrael waiting for her, his cynical eyes tracking her every movement with undisguised suspicion.

Keeping her arms down at her sides so as not to spook him further, Samara waited for the airlock to complete its cycle, though it seemed to take longer than usual. If Azrael was being as wary as she suspected…

Her thoughts came to a crashing halt as a red strobe flashed in the chamber, while a message appeared on the monitor facing the hatch:

☣ BioHazard Detected ☣

Azrael scowled with sudden fury as she cursed her luck. Samara lunged for the emergency release while shouting into her suit radio, “Gideon, now!” Smashing her gloved fist against the safety switch she grabbed a handy stanchion and held on for dear life as the hatch slammed back open, the sudden release of atmosphere tearing at her grip. Part of her had been tempted to let the escaping air do just that to hasten her escape, but then she would have zero control over her trajectory and velocity. Dangerous even under the best of circumstances, but here and now it was something she dare not risk.

The craft shuddered as Gideon worked his destructive magic, while Azrael disappeared from sight to deal with the unexpected crisis they had just dumped into his lap. With her opponent occupied, it was time to leave, so Samara centered herself on the Rächerin and leapt, no longer trusting the tether she had arrived on. With a single command, she activated the bottle of compressed gas on her back, using it to propel her back across the expanse to the safety of her ship.

Something flashed by, missing her by scant meters and triggering a cascade of suit alarms, while her helmet instantly polarized to shield her eyes. “Damn it, Gideon, shut down his weapons!” she howled as yet another energy beam lashed out at her, barely missing her once again. His targeting must have already been affected by her shipmate’s efforts, but they needed those weapons offline now, not later!

“He is attempting to do so,” Xeno reassured her over the com, but the information brought her little comfort. As long as his weapons were active he was still a threat, even with his aim being off. If he kept firing eventually, he’d get in a lucky shot, and that would be that.

“Tell him to expedite!” she snapped as she adjusted her course, cutting off the gas jet and watching her helmet’s heads-up display track her movement. She was certain Gideon was doing the very best he could under the circumstances, but seeing how it was her ass being hung out to dry a little directed encouragement couldn’t hurt.

Risking a quick peek over her shoulder, she could see Azreal’s ship was in trouble. Thrusters were firing at random, sending it into a gyrating tumble, though the beam weapon was still lashing out despite Gideon’s efforts. Being honest with herself, she hadn’t expected her subterfuge to work. In fact, she’d been certain Azreal would refuse her offer of surrender and blast Rächerin to bits from a safe stand-off distance.

Perhaps he’d held onto some small measure of decency, she mused, though after this stunt she could kiss that goodbye. She’d had one free shot, and she’d taken it, out of desperation and necessity, but he wouldn’t be giving her any more chances now. The next time he came after her...assuming they escaped and there was a next time...he’d strike without warning.

So be it.

“...I should have trusted my instincts,” Azrael said over the comlink. “I knew there was no way you would give yourself up so easily.”

“All is fair in Love and War,” she quoted back to him, as she flipped her body around and started braking, slowing her speed so she didn’t slam into the hull. “Or had you forgotten?”

“I let sentiment cloud my judgment,” he admitted, much to her surprise. “But rest assured, it won’t happen again.”

“I expect nothing less,” she said softly, as her boots locked onto Rächerin’s metal hull. Rook had already cut the tether free, as she swung herself inside the airlock and closed the outer hatch.

“This round is yours,” Azrael informed her. “Enjoy your victory. You earned it. But next time we meet...I’m afraid I won’t be as lenient.”

“Until then,” Samara replied, gazing out the porthole as the engines came online, jetting away from the other craft. She raised her arm and sketched a salute to her opponent, still fighting his incapacitated vessel, as she closed the radio link.

Xeno hailed her on the intercom. “So. It worked.”

“It did,” she agreed, “but don’t let yourself get cocky. We were lucky.”

“Luck may be a fickle creature, but I am perfectly willing to accept her blessings when she deigns to share them,” he chuckled. “Stand by for the decontamination sequence.”

“Copy that,” she acknowledged, spreading out her arms and widening her stance as a spray of caustic chemicals coated her suit, while other jets disinfected the other surfaces within the airlock. It had been a gamble, using Persephone’s deadly mutagenic retrovirus, which is why she’d waited until she was well clear of the ship before opening the vial she’d collected and smearing the residue onto her suit. The joker in the deck was whether Azrael would scan her for BioHazards, but as she’d never made that a part of her modus operandi in the past, she’d hoped she could sneak it by him.

She should have realized he’d have all his defenses up when dealing with her.

“Samara, strap yourself in,” Xeno cautioned her as the jets shut off, “I am ready to finish the decontamination cycle.”

“Understood,” she said, locking her safety link onto the stanchion and bracing herself away from the hatch. “All right…hit it.”

The Emergency lights came on as the outer hatch slammed open with sudden force, a hurricane of air and chemicals whipping out into space before vanishing as quickly as it had appeared. Hard vacuum finished the job, evaporating the remaining moisture and rendering any surviving microorganisms inert. The outer hatch closed once more as a glow of UV light permeated the space as an added precaution, as the red emergency lights changed to green. The airlock cycled once again, filling the space with air, before the inner hatch finally slid open.

Stepping into the corridor, Samara undogged her helmet, lifting it off and tucking it under her arm as she took a deep breath of semi-fresh oxygen. “Much better,” she sighed, as a wry smile played across her face.

“Welcome back, my dear,” Xeno greeted her. “Another successful mission.”

“Status report,” she queried him.

“We have Azrael’s ship on sensors,” he informed her, “and it appears to still be tumbling out of control. We are making best possible speed for deep space, en route to Qiqougii. I assume that is where you wished to go next?” he asked.

“You assume correctly, though we may need to find a spot along the way to finish repairs,” she reminded him. “If we have to run a second time, I’d like to have our means of escape operating at peak efficiency.”

“You realize Azrael is likely to consider that possibility, and begin his search there,” he pointed out.

“What other choice do we have?” Samara asked him. “As I said, we were lucky. You can safely bet Azrael won’t fall for that trick a second time.”

“I fear you are correct,” he sighed. “Very well, I will begin searching for someplace suitable...preferably one off the beaten path where few questions are asked.”

“Hmm...I may just have an idea about that,” she mused. “Think you can arrange a long-distance call that won’t be overheard and can’t be traced?”

Xeno’s smile was all the answer she needed.

“...you’re just about the last person I expected to hear from,” Remi Hadad said from the viewscreen. “No, scratch that…Maggie would be the last person I’d expect to hear from.”

The pair shared a chuckle at that. “I’m afraid I need a small favor,” she purred, playing the vamp. “Something near Aggaaddub space, where repairs can be had and anonymity is assured.” Samara flashed him her most seductive grin. “Do you think you can help me?” Her hand went to her tunic, casually giving the zipper a downward tug.

The gesture did not go unnoticed. Remi licked his lips in appreciation, before taking a deep breath and focusing on her request. “If I asked who you were trying to avoid, would you tell me?”

“I’d rather not,” she told him. “Best all around if you don’t know.”

“So it’s like that,” he hissed, mulling it over. “As it happens, I do know of a place that meets your needs, but it comes with a few strings attached,” he warned her. “First off being they don’t take credit. Hard currency only, or barter if the item is valuable enough.”

“I believe we can manage that,” she nodded, reminding herself to have a chat with Rook on the subject. “What else?”

“They’re private, and they don’t advertise. If you want in, someone they know has to vouch for you.” The Corsair chuckled. “Luckily, they do know me.”

“My hero,” she cooed, earning her a grin. “Anything else I should worry about?”

“Just one last detail. If they think they can manage it, they’ll gut you in your sleep and take your ship, and no one will ever find your bodies.” All traces of humor disappeared from his expression. “My advice? Sleep with one eye open, or better yet...don’t sleep at all.”

“Cutthroats after my own heart,” she smiled. “I appreciate the warning, dear Remi, but we’ll be fine. Send me the coordinates.”

“Sending now,” he answered, as a string of numbers appeared on her terminal. “I’d ask you to be safe, Samara, but since I know that’s not in the cards, just promise me one thing.”

“Anything,” she smiled.

“That you do unto them, before they do unto you,” he said, almost as if it were a prayer.

“...I always do,” she vowed, before cutting the connection.