"Are you sure about this?" Rozilai demands.
"Nope," I say cheerfully, "but we're gonna do it anyway. And I don't think we're gonna get a better chance."
I look around the bridge. Roz has a sceptical look, but she's standing by the scan console and looks poised for action. Nyesenia is on helm and Nurnos on tactical, so we're as ready as we're going to be. I think.
"OK. Power up drives, disconnect all umbilicals, and let's look like we've got a hot date somewhere."
The ship quivers, and distant thunks announce the falling away of the docking tube, power lines, air supply and re-mass feeds... there's a lot of stuff you get hooked up to when you're in dock for a while. On the main viewscreen, the interior of the Vault starts to swing slowly about us, as the ship rotates.
"Thrusters to max. Head us for the exit."
And there is a prompt ping from comms, because the Remans aren't slouches in this department. I hit the master panel beside my command chair. "Yo," I say.
"Privateer vessel Anita." I dunno who came up with the name, but what the heck, we have to call the ship something. "This is Vault Traffic Control. You appear to be making an unauthorized departure. Stand down. File your flight plans, and be aware that the Vault is still in security lockdown, so there may be a delay before they can be approved." There's no visual. The Reman's voice sounds brusque, businesslike, and maybe a touch cross.
He's going to get a lot crosser. "That's a negative, Traffic Control," I tell him. "Don't have time to do the paperwork. Just tell everything else in the sky to get out of our way, 'cause we're gonna burn."
"Anita, you are warned to stand down." Yep, he sounds cross all right. "You are under Vault Traffic Control regulations and -" I cut the channel.
"OK, peeps," I say, "this is where things are gonna get hectic. Roz, sing out when their targeting lights us up. Nye, polarize the hull and get ready to dodge."
"Consider me singing," says Roz. "Multiple targeting pings already. And I don't think they're all from tractor mounts, either."
"Sheesh. Nye. Punch it, and punch it hard."
And the dimness of the Vault's interior is suddenly pierced by shafts of blue light - tractor beams, mounted on the docking bay's walls, capable of dragging around ships a lot bigger than mine. But the hull polarization makes us temporarily immune, and Nyesenia is already hammering at the helm controls. Anita rolls, sideslips, twists and dodges, her thrusters firing at max. We slalom between two docking pylons, squeeze around a lumbering freighter and a squat Ferengi ship, and there is a jolt and a lurch as Nyesenia cuts in the impulse drive for a second and we shoot out of the main docking bay and into an empty corridor.
My heart is in my mouth. This route should lead to an open space in the Vault's walls, one that's too big for the Remans to close off - they can throw up an emergency force field, but I have the codes for those, I can shut one down. I think. I hope.
"We got bogeys," Nurnos grunts.
"Aw, yeeps. How many?"
"They're slipping in and out of cloak. Reckon at least six, though. Scorpions."
I pull a face. "Weapons hot. Try and target engines, aim to disable."
Nurnos heaves a sigh. "Don't ask much, do you? Those things are tiny. Shoot to disable." He snorts. "Yeah, right. Well, I'll try."
He'd better try hard. Killing a bunch of fighter pilots will really scupper things with the Remans, especially with Heizis. My first clue that the little ghoul was really one of the good guys came when I noticed she was protective of her people.
"Incoming," says Roz. "Wait. Aimed away from us. Warning shots."
Firing plasma weapons indoors is normally a bad thing, but the Vault is huge, tough and ancient, it can take a few stray plasma bolts. So far, the Remans are being, well, reasonably polite. I have to try and return the courtesy by not killing them.
Doesn't mean I can't hurt their ships, mind. "Nurnos. Think of it as a challenge. Shoot to disable."
The Nausicaan grunts. A moment or two later, so does the ship's EPS grid as the aft turrets come online and start spitting tetryon bolts. My heart is pounding. Cherenkov-blue light flashes, and one Scorpion loses its shields and veers off, frantically racing for cover. A replacement pops out of cloak, just in time to stop another one of my bolts; it yaws violently and then drifts gracelessly towards the wall. Engines down. Good for Nurnos, I hope he can keep it up -
He can't. The next Scorpion he hits spirals away leaving a trail of flaming debris and escaping air, before it bursts in a fireball. "Transporter signature detected," Roz says in comforting tones. The flight deck operators might have snatched the pilot to safety before the craft blew, then. The remaining fighters are hanging back -
Because they think they can. Because there is a bluish shimmer at the end of the corridor, a curtain of light that hangs between us and the stars. Force field. Obvious move, really.
Nyesenia cuts in the impulse drive again. I hammer the codes into the control console. If this doesn't work, we are going to hit that force field at some speed, enough to leave us severely embarrassed. And flat. And dead. But worst of all, embarrassed.
But the console flashes green, accepting, confirming. And the force shield winks out a half second or so before our nose would have slammed into it.
"Full impulse! Launch the jammers!"
Electronic warfare drones shoot out of Anita's launch tubes, broadcasting gibberish on every scan frequency the Remans use. Hopefully, it will confuse the Vault's targeting long enough for us to get clear - because if that station hits us with even a fraction of its main firepower, we don't stand a chance.
Anita corkscrews away from the Vault in a high-speed evasion pattern. No plasma fire from the station - they're not shooting while they're not sure of their target. Sensible. I can't see the Scorpions on my tactical repeater; maybe they've given up the chase. The vast station is dwindling behind us. We might be home free -
"Sensor contacts," says Roz. "Two of them." She rattles off the relative vectors, quickly.
"What are they?" I ask.
"Looks like... standard T'Varo class warbirds."
Nurnos hmphs at me. "No challenge. Nacelles are out on nice long pylons. I can take them out, neat as you like."
"Do it." Cripple the immediate pursuit, go to warp - and, once we're at warp, I know plenty of tricks to hide our subspace contrail, and plenty of bolt-holes I can hide in, while the hue and cry dies down. So long as Nurnos doesn't get too enthusiastic with the tetryon cannons -
The pursuing warbirds are coming within weapons range. Nyesenia wheels our ship sharply around, and for the first time the forward cannons blast at full strength. The first warbird's shields shatter, and flames shoot from its starboard nacelle. The second one's had time to charge its singularity core - it does a quick subspace jump to dodge our first volley, and unloads a burst of plasma fire at our midsection. The shields hold, just. Reaction mass jets from our RCS thrusters as Nyesenia brings her round again, and Nurnos's next burst shears through one pylon and sends the warbird spinning away.
"No more ships on short range scan," says Roz.
"OK, let's make like a tree and leave. Warp speed."
The stars stretch out into streaks of fire, and we're away.
---
It's the first step. There is a lot of jinking and weaving and doubling back to do before I'm sure we're safe, and then there's the rest of the set-up to go through - sending discreet coded bursts along particular subspace channels. The information we got from the Thexemians was probably out of date, but it's all I've got, and with luck it will attract someone's attention, at any rate.
When I finally call it a day and head to my quarters, though, I can see I've already got someone's attention. The portable subspace rig on my desk is flashing for attention. I sigh, sit down, and answer the call.
"What in the name of the Elements do you think you are doing?" Heizis's face, on the tiny screen, doesn't look happy. Not that she's ever exactly cheerful, but right now, she is not in a good mood, that's for sure.
"Had to make it look good, didn't I? Is everyone OK your end?" I think they must be. I don't reckon she'd be talking to me if they weren't.
"Two Scorpions heavily damaged, one destroyed - but the pilot and co-pilot were beamed off in time," Heizis snarls. "The Lasant and the Vecenius have been towed to the Vault for repairs - no casualties were reported. Now, explain."
"How secure are you?"
"I am in a storage unit with no terminals, no datapads, no other communications besides this. I assume you have sanitized your ship's data network. We may speak freely. So speak."
The subspace rig is a coach-built design, using quantum entanglement to talk with just one other counterpart - the matching unit at Heizis's end of the line. It's the most secure comms link we could come up with. "I had to make it look good," I repeat. "I need to get a line on Thrang, right? And he wants me to throw in with him, yeah? He said as much. But he's no idiot, he's gotta know I won't do that... not unless, or until, I've got no alternatives left. That makes sense, yeah? So I decided shooting my way out of the Vault would make it look like I'm off your friends list."
"You are already at odds with the Federation," says Heizis. "And you are right, today's performance certainly looks as though you have lost the friendship of my people. The Republic would follow our lead -"
"And everyone knows I don't have any love for the Ferengi, and I'm not gonna be welcomed with open arms in Klingon or Cardassian space, and I'm too hot for the Breen and too cool for the Tholians, so where does that leave me? On my way back to the Delta Quadrant, maybe, except I'd have to go through two Alliance-controlled gateways to get there, so that's no good. It should really look like I'm running low on options, now."
"Thrang might still not believe it."
"Thrang probably won't believe it. He'll think I'm looking for some way to double-cross him. Only he'll also think I won't find one, on account of he's so darn brilliant. Whatever. However it works, we get a tiny bit closer to Thrang."
"Possibly." Heizis glares. "You could have warned me."
"Nuh-uh," I say. "I needed the Vault's authentic reaction. You'd probably have told them not to shoot at me, or something."
"Do not depend on that," says Heizis. "I will use this thing when I can. Keep me informed." And she closes the channel.
"Yes, Mother," I say to the blank screen.
I stand up and stretch. My bunk is starting to look very inviting. I take off my mining vest. I unbuckle one of the big boots and ease it off. I'm half way through unbuckling the other one when the intercom yips at me.
I thumb the button. "This better be good," I say.
Roz's face is on the display. "We have a response," she says.
"Already?"
"Routed through the Thexemian beacon net. I think someone's been listening out. I can patch them through -"
"Yeah. Do it."
Roz's face vanishes. There's a brief blur of static, and then someone else's face comes into view. Disappointing. Not Thrang's face. A human female's face, a young one, with light brown skin, dark brown hair, and big brown scared-looking eyes.
"You said 'This is Pex, I'm willing to talk'," she says.
Well, that was the phrasing on one of those subspace signals, fair enough. "I'm Pex. Pexlini, if you wanna get all formal. Who are you?."
"I'm Angelica Moreno. I got your signal. And I erased the comms log. I don't think Thrang knows I'm talking to you." She swallows, audibly. "And I think we need to talk."
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