Lilliana brought up the alert on the wall console. The flashing red rectangle dissolved at once into a field of blackness, with stars scattered around the edges and in the corners.
Lilliana frowned and waved a finger over the zoom key. The image resolved itself into an all-too-familiar sight: a jet black ship shaped like a massive dodecahedron, bristling with sensors and guns. The forward most face, relative to them, showed signs of damage.
“Shit,” she said. “Shit, shit, shit.”
She punched up a communication line to the bridge.
“You see this, Dick?” she asked.
“Yes,” he replied. “It’s the same hulk that chased us going in.”
“It can’t be,” Galatea said. “I mean, what precisely are the odds of the same ship stumbling across us?
“Well… extrapolating from existing statistical data?” Leo said over the channel. “I’d say they’re precisely one out of one.”
“They didn’t just stumble across us,” Lilliana said. “They were looking for us.”
“With a search area of the entire perimeter of Rylean patrolled space?” Galatea said. “That’s absurd.”
“They didn’t have to watch the whole perimeter,” Dick said. “Nobody goes to Rylea then turns around and goes home. We escaped them heading inside Rylean space in one direction… they just had to go around to the other side and watch.”
“If they didn’t pass through Rylea’s sphere themselves, that would take some serious motoring,” Lilliana said. “Which means they’ve got fresh batteries.”
“So why in space must they come after us, then?” Galatea
“What was it Regan said about ‘baring our asses’ at them?” Leo asked.
“That ship’s ambidirectional,” Dick added. “It’s not a mistake or a coincidence that she’s showing us her injured side.”
“Great… a touchy necromancer,” Lilliana said. “Has to go and take our escaping with our lives personally. Give me some options, people.”
“I could go an’ get that gold bar I’ve been tellin’ ya about for forever an’ a day,” Regan said.
“Even if we had it, we’d need to turn around and head back to Rylea,” Lilliana said. “There’s no way we could risk another long chase if it would put that thing between us and the only safe harbor for hundreds of light years. Not that it doesn’t beat the alternative, but I’d rather not find myself confined to a rock from which we sort of just stole a national treasure. What we really need–aside from working engines–is something to slow them down.”
“What about the alchemical bomb your associate Roquelaire left us with?” Galatea asked. “If the multiscanner was correct, it would have released enough force to destroy our ship.”
“It could rip a ship our size apart from the inside, yes,” Lilliana said. “From the outside, it would probably do some damage to them. The problem is that we don’t have anyway to set it off, outside the engine.”
“Wait, are you sayin’ there’s somethin’ explodable on this ship what I can’t explode?” Regan asked, drawing herself up as high as she could.
“With all due respect to your demolition skills, Bard, you’re not an alchemist,” Lilliana said.
“Maybe I’m not, but we do have an alchemy lab upstairs,” Regan said. “I’m sure if I poke around, I can figure out a way to make the bar go boom, like.”
“Perhaps your absent alchemist has some aurically-powered devices lying around which we could jury-rig into a delivery mechanism?” Galatea suggested.
“Our alchemist,” Lilliana corrected. “Sooner or later you’re going to have to remember that you’re part of this crew.” She sighed. “I’m leery about letting the two of you into Puff’s chambers while she’s away… and even more leery about letting you blow them up… but not as leery as I am about being captured by a dark wizard with a grudge.”
A box flashed in the bottom corner of the screen to show an incoming message. Lilliana opened it. Immediately, the sound of a hundred ragged voices speaking not quite perfectly in unison filled the speakers with a ghastly monotone chorus.
“Prepare to be taken. Do not attempt to escape. Do not attempt suicide. Death will not buy your release. Prepare to be taken. Do not attempt…”
Lilliana cut the transmission off. Almost immediately, the screen switched to a view of the curly haired, goateed head of Daniel Shays, the ship’s owner.
“When you get a police watch put on my ship, I don’t ask why,” he said. “When you stop the engines just a few million miles outside the border, I don’t bother you with a lot of pesky questions. But when we get a giant black ball of death demanding our unconditional surrender, I start to get a little worried about my personnel choices.”
“I’m handling it, Daniel,” Lilliana said.
“Maybe I should put Cicada in charge.”
“Does that ever end well?” she asked.
“I can assure you that I’ve gotten nothing but happy endings from her,” he replied.
“I can assure you that’s gross,” Lilliana said. “I’ll talk to you after the crisis, Daniel.”
She turned off the screen.
“Now… when he says ‘happy endings’…” Galatea said.
“He’s talkin’ ’bout comin’, like,” Regan said.
“Don’t you two have a ship to blow up?” Lilliana asked.
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