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“Point-five-five,” said Pakkpekatt.

“And this yacht?”

“Unknown to me,” said Pakkpekatt. “Agent Taisden, tell me when the contact’s velocity changes.”

“We could hide in the scan shadow of the cruiser,” Pleck said.

“I intend to,” said Pakkpekatt, handling the yoke with a light touch that nudged the yacht sideways to port. “But I won’t be able to do so for long.”

“They might come in more slowly if they see us,” said Taisden. “We only need a couple of minutes.”

Hammax appeared at the hatchway, finger-combing his helmet-matted hair. “Patrol destroyer carries six fighters,” he pointed out. “They can have it both ways—send the fighters in hot after us, and take a nice safe, slow approach to the wreck.”

“Anyone know what kind of fighters the Prakith have?” Pleck asked, frowning. No one answered him.

“Contact is decelerating,” said Taisden. “Looks like she’s spotted the wreck. Colonel, the wreck’s going to eclipse the contact in a few seconds.”

“Tell me when.”

“Coming up—damn. Fighter launch, two birds.”

“Excellent,” said Pakkpekatt, pushing the yacht’s throttles forward to the limit. The sudden acceleration knocked Hammax back into the companionway and sent Pleck tumbling against the flight deck’s rear bulkhead. “I suggest you both find a flight couch and strap in. We may need to discover not only how fast General Calrissian’s yacht is, but how agile she is as well.”

Pleck picked himself up and squeezed past Hammax, heading aft. Hammax came forward and reached for the weapons controller.

“You may store that,” said Pakkpekatt. “I have retracted the laser cannon. This is a race, not a fight. I will jump us out before I let us be caught—but I am willing to take some risks in order to receive the complete dispatch.”

“What’s in it that’s so important?” Hammax asked.

“The code that allowed this ship to pass through the vagabond’s shields at Gmar Askilon—”

“But we have that.”

“—and the code that would have allowed D-89 to follow it in,” Pakkpekatt continued. “The next time the vagabond asks us a question, we should know the answer.”

“If we ever see her again,” Hammax said with a lopsided frown.

“We will.”

“Tobay is hailing us,” said Taisden.

“I have nothing to say to the Prakith,” said Pakkpekatt.

“You might be able to get them to give away some information—like whether the vagabond was here.”

“We do not need confirmation of that,” said Pakkpekatt. “And I will not take the risk of giving some information away to them.” He glanced down at the display. “General Calrissian has a very fast ship. Range to fighters?”

“One hundred thousand meters and opening quickly,” Taisden said. “Someone on the Tobay forgot that TIEs have solar-electric ion boost engines. Not much out here for them to eat. They won’t catch us. Someone else has figured that out, too—Tobay is accelerating now.”

“Too late,” Hammax said. “Their captain made the wrong choice.”

“Yes,” said Pakkpekatt, his pride teeth gleaming. “He did.”

“Three more minutes,” said Taisden. “I’ll set up the jumps if you’ll tell me where we’re going next. Back to Carconth and Anomaly Ten-thirty-three?”

“No. I have been thinking about what happened to us, being brought here by an automated system override,” said Pakkpekatt. “I find myself asking what the Qella would have done if, once having launched this vessel, they found reason to recall her.”

“Sounds like a card you’d want to keep in your hand,” said Hammax. “What do you have in mind, Colonel?”

“I have in mind for us to go to Maltha Obex, the vagabond’s point of origin,” said Pakkpekatt. “We will set up a hyperspace beacon there and transmit the sequences we just received.”

“You mean to call her home,” said Hammax.

Taisden’s face was lit with sudden optimism. “We can use the entire communications grid of the New Republic as a repeater to send out the signal in realspace, on the frequency the vagabond used to interrogate our ships at Gmar Askilon.”

Pakkpekatt nodded, human fashion. “And then we will wait for her. Who knows? If this yacht is as