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She doubted that they would fire upon her in the shift queue but they could force a boarding.

Trajectory?

Icons representing their route snapped into existence before her eyes, along with warnings that each pass would break interstellar proximity rules.

I know. I know, I know . . .

Mira twitched her index finger, overruling the default.

Stationmaster Landhurst came on open-frequency shortcast. ‘Baronessa Fedor, your erratic conduct suggests you’ve taken Autonomy—a cruel act. You are also breaking every rule of shiftspace. Return or we will board you.’

Mira took a deep, slow breath. ‘Sending your people to cut their way into my biozoon’s intestines is what I would term a cruel act, Master Landhurst.’ She made a stroking movement with the little finger on her right hand and Insignia increased speed.

‘Change your course!’ Landhurst barked.

All the other transmissions had stopped. Everyone was listening to the exchange.

Mira imagined Landhurst pacing his office, lips compressed into a wrinkle of fury.

It couldn’t compare to hers. Her anger burned away all her hesitancy. ‘My world desperately needs ‘esque aid. You sought to take advantage of my vulnerability and steal my biozoon, preventing me from presenting my case to the OLOSS commission on Scolar. You are the criminal, Stationmaster Landhurst.’

Her virtual map began to vibrate warnings as Insignia got set to pass the outermost craft in the shift queue. Mira held her breath, waiting for any aggressive reaction. Landhurst might not attack them with so many witnesses but she had no idea what a privately owned decommed battleship might do.

It was an old P-class Assailant. They’d been used in the Stain Wars. From the thin nozzles running along its body Mira could see that it was still fitted with active depleted-uranium weaponry. Each DU projectile would be sealed in a mercury capsule and sheathed in copper wiring. What that could do to Insignia ...

‘Fedor, what’s happening?’ Rast was out of her tubercle and on the ‘cast again.

‘We are passing the first of the queuing ships. An Assailant.’

‘Active?’

‘No. Decommissioned.’

‘DU weapons active?’

‘Shit. Those decoms tend to be owned by our kind.’

As if to confirm Rast’s suspicion, the Assailant altered its aspect, and rotated and elevated an array of weapons along its strake.

Mira held to a course that would bring them within millimesurs of the battleship’s proximity buffer. If it was going to fire on them, it would be before they reached that point to avoid blowback damage.

As if anticipating a messy outcome several Savvies launched from the station, ready to clean up any debris.

‘What now?’ demanded Rast.

Mira didn’t answer. Barely registered the question.

‘Fedor, you sucked in a breath just then like it was your last. What did you see?’

‘Savvies have been detached from the station,’ she whispered.

‘Crapshit. Can we repel fire?’

Mira felt she was floating, as though the pounding of her heart had flooded her brain with too much blood. ‘Not from Autonomy and not that kind.’

‘Find out who the captain is.’

Mira fired a shortcast query.

The reply came back short and sharp. ‘Who wants to know?’

She relayed it to Rast. ‘What should I say?’

‘Tell them it’s Rast Randall. First MI, Stain Wars.’

This time there was no quick answer.

Landhurst had also gone quiet, waiting.

The deep breath that Mira had taken minutes ago seemed to be still caught in her chest. Layers of required actions settled atop each other waiting for her decision. And all the while doubts assailed her. Had she made the right choice? Would Insignia survive? Would taking Autonomy harm her more?

Then there was a movement on her virtual map that caused everything to fade to the background: something unexpected and wonderful. Her seemingly long-held breath escaped, letting her take another, another.

‘What is it? For fuck’s sake, your heavy breathing is killing me!’ Rast shouted into the intercom.

‘The Assailant is dropping out of pattern. It