“Xuilan, do you have a course laid in for us?” Remi asked his pilot.

“Aye, Cap’n,” she answered. “Course 302 by Mark 067 for 1.7 light years, then altering trajectory to 183 by Mark 112 for 2.3 light years. After that, we’ll need to reassess.”

“Very good,” he acknowledged. “Slavko, what’s the status of our stealth systems? How long can we keep them operating?”

The gunner looked hesitant. “I’m not sure,” he shrugged. “From my console, everything looks good, but we simply don’t know how well they’ll function with prolonged use. If you want my advice, we should test them, run them for increasingly longer periods, and monitor the hardware and electronics for signs of failure.”

Remi took a moment to consider that, then nodded his approval. “Good idea,” he agreed, before tapping the intercom switch. “Mairead, we’re going to operate under stealth to test its endurance. I need you to keep an eye on things and let us know if there’s a problem. Coordinate with Slavko so we can analyze the results.”

“Understood,” she responded. “Give me a few minutes to set up the program, then I’d suggest running for… hmm… let’s say, two hours to start off with. After that, we can begin bumping those numbers up and see where we stand.”

“You heard the lady,” Remi grinned. “We’ll do it your way.”

“Damn right you will,” she grumbled. “Still fiddling with that file that bitch Samara dumped on us, by the way. I need time to give us more options.”

“Time might be in short supply,” he warned her. “We’re off the map here, Mairead, so no promises.”

“Somehow, I knew you were gonna say that,” she sighed. “Like I said, I’ll do what I can.”

“That’s all I ask,” he responded. “Remi, out.”

Switching off the intercom, he looked up at the bridge crew. “Soon as she gives the word, we light the fires,” he ordered.

“Aye aye, Cap’n,” they said in unison.

It wasn’t long before the engineer reported back in. “Okay, I’m good to go on my end. Whenever you’re ready.”

“Bring the engines online, engage stealth systems,” Remi ordered. “Xuilan… take us out.”

The deck plates thrummed as Heuristic Fealty got underway. As the stealth system came online, Remi observed there was a noticeable warping with the sensors. “Is this going to be a problem?” he asked, tapping the monitor. “If we can’t see the enemy, we sure as hell can’t avoid them.”

“There’s some degradation,” Slavko admitted, “roughly twenty percent, near as I can tell, especially at extreme range. I’ll keep a close eye on it.”

“Might be why we never see them use it,” Xuilan pointed out.

“Possible,” Remi agreed, “but given our mission, it’s a risk I think we have to take. Xuilan, reduce speed to compensate. Maybe that will give us some warning.”

“Aye, Cap’n,” she agreed, adjusting their velocity.

‘Steady as she goes,” the captain ordered, settling in for the long haul.

Space travel is 95% boredom, 5% sheer terror, Remi thought, reciting the adage to himself as he went aft for a quick bite. Given the distance between systems, it was inevitable, even with an FTL drive. Smart crews used the quiet time for maintenance and readiness drills, keeping both their ship and skills honed and ready. Emergencies and combat happened without warning, so it was the prepared crew that survived, assuming survival was possible at all.

Often, it wasn’t. At least, not for Terrans.

Isi was in the galley… at least, he was fairly sure it was the galley… hovering over a pot of something exotic. “What’s that?” he asked.

“Just something I’ve been fiddling with,” the purser told him, digging a spoon into the kettle and holding it out to him. “Here, give it a taste.”

Remi gave the concoction a tentative sniff. He couldn’t place the aroma, but it smelled intriguing. With a shrug, he took the proffered spoon and stuck it in his mouth, letting the flavors dance on his palette, before blinking in surprise. “Wow… that’s good,” he said in amazement. “What is it?”

“Don’t need to sound so surprised,” Isi chuckled, taking back the spoon and serving him up a bowl. “Found some ingredients while I was setting up that passed the analyzer test. Figured I’d give ‘em a try.” He handed Remi the bowl and started dishing one up for himself. “Going by your reaction, I guess it worked.”

Taking the proffered meal, Remi sat down at the table, trying to get comfortable in the Eleexxi seats. Isi sat down across from him with a bowl of his own, heartily digging in while his captain took a more leisurely approach, savoring each bite.

“Haven’t heard much from you about the mission lately,” Remi said between bites. “How do you feel about it?”

The purser just shrugged. “Doesn’t matter,” he answered. “We’re here, and it needs doing. Besides, who else but us could?”

“Lots of crews, I imagine,” the captain replied, “we’re not the only ones out here who know their business. It’s going to be tricky getting past the Troika, no argument, but if we can pull it off, we’re home free.”

Isi looked up from his bowl. “You sure about that, Cap’n?”

Remi raised an eyebrow. “Just what are you saying?”

The purser sighed, putting down his spoon. “I just think no one’s asking themselves the real question. Let’s say we get past the blockade and make it to New Terra. And let’s say whatever’s guarding it doesn’t immediately blow us out of the sky. What happens then?”

“We claim it for humanity,” he answered immediately, a confused expression on his face. “Still not seeing what you’re getting at.”

“My point is, let’s say everything the Oivu told us about that world is true, that it’s filled with Precursor tech. Weapons, ships, computers, anything you can imagine. Maybe things we can’t imagine, they’re so advanced. Stuff that’s so far beyond us, we’ll never understand them.” He gave his captain an ominous look. “We’re not saints, us Terrans… hell, you don’t need to look any further back than the Clan Wars to know that. We’d barely survived the worst disaster our species had ever known. We should have been pulling together, but we went after each other’s throats instead.” Isi shook his head. “Bad enough we’ll start using all those deadly toys against other races, but what happens when we point them at each other?” He sighed once more. “Cause we will. You know we will. It’s our nature.”

Remi leaned back in his chair, silently regarding the other man. Isi was right, he hadn’t considered that. A full minute ticked by before he finally responded.

“I don’t know,” he said at last. “I just know we can’t go on like this. We’re dying out here, Isi, one centimeter at a time. Choking in the vacuum, waiting for the end.” Suddenly, the meal before him wasn’t sitting so well. “I don’t have all the answers, and I figure it’ll take folks a lot smarter than me to solve the problems New Terra will dump in our lap. I just know we have to try, because what other choice do we have?”

“None, I guess,” the purser acknowledged. “I just think we should talk about it more. Or at all, for that matter. Seems like everyone’s focused on just getting there, and no one’s thinking about what comes after.”

“Human nature,” Remi brooded, before giving a vague wave of his hand. “We’re a work in progress.”

Isi picked up his spoon. “Let’s hope we get our shit together then before it’s too late.”

The captain barked out a laugh. “I’m not holding my breath,” he said, standing up. “Thanks for the meal. What’s in here, anyway?”

Isi just grinned. “Trust me… you’ll be happier not knowing.”

“Words to live by,” Remi agreed, carrying his bowl back to the Bridge.

The first two legs of the journey passed without incident, just as their captain had hoped. The circuitous route they’d taken prolonged the trip considerably, but then time was less of a concern than arriving at their destination intact. Remi wanted to get a sense of what they were facing, a lay of the land, before making their final run. And if he could discover where the Troika ships and pickets were along the way, so much the better.

There was another benefit to taking a more meandering course as well, as it gave them a chance to evaluate the ship’s stealth technology. The crew’s efforts paid off, though sadly, not without discovering an inherent flaw. All ships radiated heat, making their IR signature an effective way to track them. The system shielded the infrared energy, preventing it from being scattered into nearby space, but it couldn’t do so indefinitely. It worked as advertised… better, even… for approximately eighteen hours. Any longer, and waste heat began building up inside the ship. If kept in operation long enough, it would damage the ship’s sensitive electronics, not to mention parboiling the crew. Before that happened, they’d need to shut it down and shed the excess heat, which unfortunately would also announce their position to any vessel within range.

Not exactly ideal.

After much experimenting, he and the crew came up with a compromise solution, a variation on the “Shoot-and-scoot” concept used in ancient times by Terran artillery. The gun crew would fire a handful of rounds at a target and then displace, quickly moving somewhere else (hopefully out of range of any returning salvos) before firing once more. In their case, however, they would travel for a handful of hours under stealth, drop the field and expel the waste heat, a process taking several minutes to over an hour, depending on how long the system had been operating. Once temperatures were near normal, they would re-cloak the ship and immediately change course, haring off in a completely different direction. While it also added time to their journey, it also increased their odds of survival by a considerable margin.

It’s likely what saved them when they stumbled across the first Troika vessel.

They’d discovered it was easier to disguise their heat emissions if they did so in proximity to something else that radiated infrared energy… the hotter the better. Interstellar space offered little in that regard; planetary systems, on the other hand, have convenient stars at their center blazing away with heat and radiation, making them the perfect place to dump their excess energy. They’d had to alter their itinerary a bit to take advantage of that fact, something that left Xuilan more than a little irritable, but after consulting the star charts, they worked out a course, allowing them to meet their growing list of objectives.

They’d paused near an ancient red dwarf, with a scattering of useless planets circling. It was as wretched a system as they could imagine finding; so worthless in fact that the star didn’t even bear a name, merely an identifier… UDF 2457. Nominally Usuu territory, it had been leased in perpetuity to the Tu’udh’hizh’ak centuries before. Initial scans failed to turn up anything of interest, so the captain ordered the crew to swing close to the Class M star and begin heat-waste disposal procedures.

“Shit!” Slavko screeched suddenly, as they neared the red dwarf, “just picked up an Imperial destroyer, 147 by Mark 079… range, two million kilometers!”

Remi’s fist mashed the intercom switch. “All hands, this is the captain. We’ve spotted an Imperial Tu’udh’hizh’ak destroyer. Clear the decks, and ready Samara’s surprise. Let’s see if we can bluff them first.”

His head snapped back to his pilot. “Any sign they’ve seen us?”

Xuilan peered at her scope and swore under her breath. “Affirmative. Destroyer is powering up engines… and they’re hailing us.”

He punched the talk switch once more. “Mairead, we’re being hailed. Get that software loaded and running ASAP!”

“I’m booting it up now!” the Tinker shouted over the radio. “Just give me a few minutes!”

“We may not have a few minutes!” he snarled before whipping around to face his gunner. “What’s their status?”

“They’re moving to intercept,” he reported before his eyes widened in sudden alarm. “Sir… they’re charging weapons.”

That was just about the last thing he wanted to hear. “If we fight them, what are our odds?” he asked.

“A frigate against a destroyer?” Slavko said dubiously, before shaking his head. “Not good.”

“Then can we outrun them?” he queried his pilot.

“It’d be close, but it’s possible,” Xuilan answered. “Assuming they’re alone, that is. But if it’s like we figure, and they call for backup…”

“... they’d have us dead to rights,” Remi finished for her, while the tactical situation firmed up on the scope.

The pair looked back and faced him, their features taut and haggard. “Orders, captain?” Xuilan asked nervously.

He hit the intercom. “Mairead, we are out of time. It’s now or never.”

“I’m almost there!” she howled. “Peripherals are loading… yes! Eleexxi spoof program is online!”

“Answer their hail!” he ordered, as Xuilan frantically opened a channel.

Doctor Axchxairx’s familiar visage appeared on the display as Samara’s program entered the channel, a translation voder around his neck. A similarly attired Chell servitor glared at the simulacrum, its normal speech coming out in the harsh scratching discord of Eleexxi vocalization. Its thick fur bristled… a threat display, possibly, though he was no expert… likely demanding to know what they were doing here, and why they’d taken so long to respond. He hoped Samara’s program was versatile enough to communicate with them, and not blow their cover.

The ship watched as the faux Axchxairx responded, its words coming out in sounds and tones that were much easier on the human ear. It made sense; Chell physiology was much closer to humans than it was to an insectoid. It was impossible to follow the alien conversation, not only were the tongues being used utterly incomprehensible, but the body language as well. There were gestures and mannerisms aplenty, to be sure, but none of them seemed to conform to anything the Terrans might recognize. Even as he watched, he couldn’t tell if things were going well or poorly.

And then the Chell gave the image a derisive sniff and abruptly cut off.

“Talk to me, people,” Remi said carefully.

Several long, tense seconds ticked by as they watched their scopes until, finally, Slavko breathed out a sigh of relief. “Weapons systems are powering down,” he exhaled. “Ship is changing course and is returning to its original position.”

“Thank Mother Terra,” Xuilan whispered.

“We’re not out of this yet,” he cautioned as he screened his engineer. “Mairead, it looks like it worked. Have we finished dumping our excess heat?” he asked her.

“Yes, we have, Cap’n,” she confirmed.

“Then get us out of here,” he told the pilot, “nice and slow.”

“Aye aye, Cap’n,” she swallowed, as the captured ship began pulling away from the angry red star.