Empire of Light

‹How is it, Dakota, that the approaching scouts knew to track us here to these coordinates, out of all the vastness of the Perseus Arm?›

Before Dakota could answer, Whitecloud disappeared through the open hatch.

The hull sailed past, only millimetres beneath her. Light had already begun to sparkle along the top of the nearest drive-spines, and she realized the Mjollnir was only seconds from jumping. If she didn't get back inside the ship soon, she risked being vaporized by the energy flow.

Something sailed past the frigate, moving so fast it was gone by the time she discerned its passage. She reached out for a rung next to the hatch…

The field-generators came to life, even as the first pulse-beams lanced towards the Mjollnir.

The world went white for several seconds, but she still had hold of the rung. The light faded quickly, and she activated the lock system, watching the door slide into its recess.

More dark shapes shot past, so quickly they barely registered. She pulled herself inside.

Trader? I don't know how they could have found us. Why don't you tell me?

The hatch slid back into place above her, lightning playing across the hull outside.

‹You, of all people, know the inconceivable chances against simply stumbling across this frigate in all the depths of interstellar space. The only reasonable conclusion, therefore, is that they have the means to track us.›

The airlock finished its cycle, and Dakota passed on into a network of cramped service tu

Following the passageway to a heavy door, she passed through it and into a large control module overlooking the interior of the hold, designed for use by traffic controllers overseeing the movement of ships and cargo. As she entered it, she saw that the module was several metres across, with a wide window at the far end which revealed the looming shape of Trader's yacht, now free from its cradle and floating just beyond the glass. It was close enough, in fact, that its drive-spines risked shattering it.

Ty crouched beneath the window, next to a console, still gripping the bag containing the Mos Hadroch tight against his chest. He'd already taken his helmet off.

'You shouldn't have followed me,' Ty rasped in what sounded more like his own voice.

As she stepped closer, he pulled a knife out of the bag, its blade still stained with Willis's blood.

'You can't hurt me with that,' she said. 'Believe me.'

She started to move closer to him – and the yacht moved towards the window with startling sudde

But the explosive decompression ripped her hands away from the shelf, and she collided with the bulkhead nearest the window. She then managed to grab hold of the console for just long enough to let the force of decompression finally relent after a few moments.

The next time she looked, Whitecloud was gone. The strap of his bag, however, had become caught on a piece of twisted metal to one side of the window-frame.

Dakota pushed herself towards it, hands outstretched.

She was not aware of any kind of explosion, or of being hit by any form of missile. Only later did she recall having a momentary glimpse of a ball of white light expanding through the shattered window towards her. She was initially only aware of now being on the opposite side of the room. The metal shelves were twisted out of shape where her body had rammed into them with sickening force.

The filmsuit had protected her, but the impact had nearly drained it of power. She might have as little as a few minutes left before it would begin to fail.

Trader swam in through the ruined window, moving towards the bag until the sphere of water enveloping him had surrounded it. The tentacles dangling from his underbelly untangled the strap from the obstruction and drew it close to his body.

She watched, helplessly, knowing that if she provoked Trader into attacking her a second time, the power drain would likely overwhelm her filmsuit.

Trader swivelled to look at her directly. ‹To continue our conversation, you are, of course, aware that there are sophisticated means by which cultures much more advanced than your own can track individuals across enormous distances.›

I don't know what you mean.

‹Of course you do. It's how Hugh Moss chased me all across the galaxy. Don't you realize he doesn't want us to succeed? The Emissaries are wi

Nothing would please that monster more than to see us all die, so it was hardly surprising that he might place a similar form of tracking technology on your own person. Something so small and undetectable you would never find it. Then, my dear Dakota, he gave the means of tracking you to our enemies, the Emissaries.›

Dakota remembered how Moss had touched her shoulder back on Derinkuyu, and the way his touch had stung.

You're lying. There's no way you could possibly know all this.

‹I am not so alone in my endeavours as you seem to imagine. I still have those whom I can trust to supply me with certain intelligence, otherwise Moss would have found and destroyed me long ago. But the final proof that the Emissaries have a means of tracking you lies in the ease with which they found us here, out of all the vastness of this spiral arm. I ca

This is bullshit. You were always pla

‹Once our mission here was finished I intended to return it to the Hegemony for safe-keeping, that much is true. Perhaps, if you survive this day, you will eventually come to understand that the Mos Hadroch is far too precious to be allowed to remain in the hands of a fledgling and barbaric race such as your own. The Emissaries' attention will be on the frigate or, more precisely, on you, while a much smaller ship like my own may be able to slip past their defences.›

A hatch began to slide open in the side of Trader's ship, and he moved towards it.

Wait…

‹Goodbye, Dakota. I did not come to this decision lightly›

The hull of Trader's yacht closed behind him as he slipped back inside. Flickering lightning began to form around the tips of its drive-spines.

Dakota activated the command structure Moss had given her, feeling it unfold like an impossibly complex origami flower in the depths of her mind. She tried to lock on to the yacht's primary control systems, but it was already too late; the craft was fully committed to a jump. Trying to reverse the flow of energy spilling out through the drive-spines at this point would likely destroy the yacht, the frigate's hold, and herself along with it.

She scrambled for the door and felt real panic well up inside her when she found it had sealed itself following the decompression. She launched herself back into the data-space and found the door's override codes, but Lamoureaux was in the chair, meaning she couldn't activate them without his explicit permission.

Ted, I need you to override the safety locks at my current location. Now!

‹I've got your location, but just blowing the door will be dangerous. Won't-?›

Just do it, Ted! Do it now or I'm dead!

‹Okay. You might want to move back from the door if you're anywhere near it.›

She pulled herself into a corner, under a metal desk that projected out from one wall, and held on to its legs. The light from Trader's yacht was begi