The hyperspace jump ended, dumping the Wraith and its temporary crew out into the fringes of the Panchian system. He was sure there was plenty of unique history nearby, but Heath neither knew it, nor cared to look it up.

  [Ship Link] had been unresponsive in hyperspace, and he wasted no time trying it. To his relief, the Skill was still active. To his horror it was fainter than ever. All he could tell was that the Loon existed on the other end.

  Focusing on the triangulation part of the skill, he got more good news. They were close. The gamble had paid off and there was just one more jump until they reached the Shaman’s base, where the Loon was currently being held.

  “It worked,” he announced.

  Any other time one of their schemes worked out this well there would have been cheers. Now his crew gave him a round of grim nods. They had planned, they had prepared. It was time to execute.

  “Ten hours to the jump point. Take six and try to get some sleep. No idea what we’ll find on the other side.”

  He took a moment to glance at his status and grimaced.

  [Piloting] and [Ship Operation] had seen a tidy boost from experience on a new ship, but that wouldn’t help him here. He had time to regret every single one of his Skill choices. He should have taken more crew boosts, to help find Jenny Mae faster. If he had more combat Skills, then they’d have more argo from dungeons to pour into the Loon’s security.

  He went around and around, foolish as it was. There was no changing the past, and each of his Skills had gotten him out of a scrape at some point or another. The spiraling gave him something to kill the time as he tried to follow his own advice for the battle ahead.

  This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

  *******

  There was one last preparation to make before their final jump. Like any top-of-the-line starship, Wraith had a full complement of suits rated for hard vacuum, in case of repairs. Which you could argue was what they were doing.

  “It needs to balance. Half again as much mana through the conductor.” Emerald was instructing Ekaterina as Copperfield spidered across the hull, anchoring the new additions. “Perfect. Keep it there.”

  They lumbered over to Heath, the mag boots slowing everyone down until they looked like they had never walked before. “We need to route them through the hull circuitry. Here, and here.”

  “On it,” Heath replied. Peeling up a layer of hull in space was setting off every alarm the Wraith had. No one was on the bridge to listen.

  They didn’t want an actual breach, just access to the very top layer of circuitry. He pulled out a handheld vibrosaw. It was expensive, but about what he expected from someone rich enough to be riding in a Mako. The scalpel of the dockyards, this thing could cut through even the hull plating of a starship given enough time.

  Heath flicked it on, and brought the tool to the spot Emerald had marked out. Feedback from the first scrape almost sent it flying when his hand spasmed as he felt his bones shake. Mastering the reaction, he kept going. Messing this up would just put them at more of a disadvantage.

  When he got through the first layer, Heath paused and flicked off the tool. He rubbed his hand over the small slit. The tactile feedback of the suits was imperfect, but even through the thick rubber he could feel the smooth cut. No dust or debris or jagged edges. He could also feel the Wraith’s repair features attempting to plug the hole.

  Heath went back to work. It was slow going, but he eventually had a patch the size of his hand cut out. With the help of a titanium crowbar, he leveraged the slice of hull off, and slapped it onto the mag box next to him, keeping his tools and other detritus from floating away.

  Copperfield was there the instant he finished, shoving a rod into the hole. Ekaterina came behind him, applying mana to the base to coax the circuitry up and over. When it was as good as it could get, he sprayed sealant foam to cover the base and any still-exposed area of the inner hull. In a few days time, the rod would look like it had always been attached to the ship. Not that it mattered what happened that far out.

  They moved a few meters over and repeated the process. Then again and again. When they finished, there was a circle of mana-conductive rods poking out of the top of the hull. After a final inspection, Emerald gave them the go ahead to traipse back inside.

  “How much cover will it give us?” Heath asked when they were through the airlock and removing the suits.

  “No way to tell without better specs on the defense. But the Crown of Veracles is old and out of style. Picked it up from a retired Pirate on the other side of the Empire. The Techno-whatever won’t have seen it. Won’t be guarding against it.”

  “You hope,” Ekaterina tacked on.

  “We all hope,” Heath said. “With the defenses we do know about, I’ll take any little bit.”

  Back on the bridge, Heath ran a full diagnostic. The Wraith wasn’t a fan of the new jewelry, but she would hold together.

  “Are we ready?”

  “As good as we can be, kid.”

  “Hells yes.”

  “Aye, Captain.”

  “This time tomorrow, we’ll be back on the Loon,” Heath said as he kicked on the thrusters and pointed them at the gate.

  It was a smooth jump, nothing like the weightless days spent in hyperspace to get here so quickly, and they came out the other side without any issues.

  Heath burned the engine hard to point them towards the outsystem. A few planets passed by, and then there was nothing.

  It wasn’t a bad idea for a psycho that wanted to play god. An established system like this one, everyone knew where the useful resources lived, or where the gates were. No one would come out this far, there was nothing to see.

  Quick access to a nexus system like the one next door. For a Classer that relied on a network of creepy minions, it was perfect.

  Heath and the others had come to a few conclusions on their mad dash. One of which was that almost every confrontation they’d had in the Loon could be traced back to this guy. Even the first time a survey drone had been sniffing around when they left the arctic dungeon had likely been reporting to the Shaman.

  They would never know when the madman had realized the Loon was special. It might have been when the unique ai had slipped into station networks to keep an eye on Heath, not noticing any other virtual watchers. Or it might have been when they started arriving at their destinations earlier than should be possible. As careful as Heath had always tried to be, it could have been something as simple as talking about the Loon like a person while they were on a Syndicate-monitored station. Somehow, someway, the Shaman had taken an interest, and had been watching them for all the months since.

  Heath notched their acceleration up a little more. After entering the same system as the Loon his [Ship Link] was giving him more information. None of it good. The ship was in a sort of torpor, sleepy and unresponsive. At the same time, she was in pain. Like a warrior bleeding from a dozen wounds that she didn’t have time to acknowledge.

  The long-range sensors on the Mako 12 were the best money could buy, but Heath couldn’t use them. The signal it sent out would announce their intentinos loud and clear. With those limitations in mind, he pulled all the data from every passive array they had and put it onscreen, filtered down into a visual they could use.

  A green dot appeared. Then two more. Then ten. A cascade of objects registered, until the screen looked like a polka dot fabric his mom had once made him wear to school. They weren’t that close together, but the passage of a ship like the Wraith wasn’t perfectly silent. Even with the Crown active, this would be like threading a needle. Or jumping through flaming hoops.

  He grabbed onto the manual controls. The Wraith and him had gotten to know each other over the last week and a half, but he would have been more comfortable with the Loon’s familiar feedback.

  The crew, sans Jenny Mae, were all armed to the teeth with stolen weapons. Copperfield hadn’t found a mech suit, but he had happened upon some high quality armor now stretched tight across his torso and hanging to cover his upper legs. Over it was a vac suit they had rigged with as much padding and defenses they could figure out on the fly. Emerald was in actual combat gear for once, thick leather they claimed was too restrictive.

  Even Ekaterina, snobby, disdainful Ekaterina, had strapped on a phase pistol and shock grenade in addition to her usual Wizard garb.

  They were as ready as they could be.

  Heath twitched the controls. They sailed past the first green dot and he pulled a visual onscreen. Nothing appeared.

  “It’s there,” he heard Ekaterina say, though he couldn’t spare the time to look. “Just a ball, camouflaged to blend in the low light.”

  “Sensor grid,” Copperfield stated.

  “Or a minefield.”

  “Thanks for that, Emerald.”

  Another twitch of the controls and they were past the next layer. Each dodge ramped up Heath’s tension. Take one pass too close and they might as well ring the doorbell.

  Their plan was working. Closer and closer, they spiraled towards the hideout, being pushed off a direct course in their evasive flight.

  “Well if we didn’t already know this guy was unhinged, we would get it now,” Copperfield said. “Guy built a castle in space. What do you want to bet he has a throne room where he orders all the drones?”

  “A waste of credits. Such men always have an inner sanctum,” Ekaterina said.

  Heath would take her word for it. A bead of sweat dripped down his nose. He didn’t wipe it away. He didn’t even blink.

  In his hyperfocus, the light clank that he heard from the hull above him sounded like an explosion.

  “What the –”

  Every green light on the Wraith’s view screen flashed, cutting him off. Alarms blared across the bridge as the lights reacted, some exploding, some winking out, most turning a dangerous red.

  “I think they know we’re here.” Emerald said.