His tactical officer interrupted them. “General, the pinger signal has stopped! The cargo escort’s gone to ground in the system ahead.”

Lanyan set his coffee aside, hoping Brindle wouldn’t press the matter further. “Tell me about the system. What’s there?”

“Nothing that I can see, sir. Metal-rich rocks in erratic orbits — barely worth noting on a starmap. The only name I could find in the records is Forrey’s Folly. I can’t tell if it refers to any particular asteroid.”

Lanyan nodded slowly, smiling. “Ugly, useless, and out of the way — exactly the sort of place Roamers like.” He scanned starmap archives where a tangle of ellipses showed the orbital paths of the many out-of-ecliptic planetoids around a small dim sun. The cargo escort had gone directly to one of the asteroids. “Proceed with caution. We’ll probably find another clan hideout.”

The sensor operator scanned the rock. “The presence of processed metals and geometrical shapes clearly indicates artificial constructions.”

“Charge in with our weapons ready, but don’t open fire unless I say so. We don’t want to lose any ekti stockpiles they might have — or damage facilities that may continue to be productive.”

“We should also avoid unnecessary casualties,” Brindle added, making sure everyone on the bridge could hear him.

The sensor operator brought up a report from the long-range scans. “Detecting no energy signatures, comm traffic, or heat sources. Just the cargo escort. He’s transmitting, but getting no answer.”

Lanyan leaned forward, elbows on his knees. At the speed the EDF ships were moving, the outpost approached in a flash. The asteroid had once been covered with domes, tank farms, docking frameworks, and habitation tunnels, but the place was entirely destroyed. Explosions had riddled the already cratered rock of the asteroid. Blackened holes and melted cuts showed where the facility had been torn apart.

“That was done by EDF jazer blasts, sir,” said the sensor operator.

“Jazers? I gave no order to attack this place. Hell, I didn’t even know it was here.”

Before Lanyan’s ships could close in on their attack run, the cargo escort spun about. A profanity-filled transmission came across the open band. The Roamer pilot had a long, thin beard, and a braid that dangled over his shoulder; he was so angry his face was red, his eyes wide and bloodshot. “You Eddy bastards! You’ve killed everyone here.Why? Isn’t piracy enough anymore? You have to engage in mass murder, too?”

Lanyan looked over at Brindle, as if his second in command might have answers. “Are you sure there’s no record of any military operation taking place here?”

“None, sir.”

“Open a channel to the Roamer pilot. Tell him we didn’t cause this massacre.”

“He’s not inclined to believe us, General,” said the comm officer a moment later. “His exact response is, um, quote,Bullshit. ”

The cargo escort’s engines brightened with acceleration thrust. Lanyan sighed. “Now where’s he going? Does he think he can actually run from us?” But the Roamer ship turned and accelerated directlytoward the Juggernaut. “What the hell? He’s trying to ram us! That’s ridiculous.”

“TheGoliath ’s shields are sufficient to withstand the impact,” Brindle said.

“I don’t care — open fire.” Then he added quickly, “Engine damage only. if possible.”

The cargo escort headed toward them like a projectile, but at the last moment the pilot disengaged his cargo of ekti tanks, dropping the twelve metal cylinders like spreading space mines directly into the path of the battle group. The Roamer ship veered slightly aside, weaving a complicated path through the clustered EDF ships even as their jazers crisscrossed space. Two spinning ekti cylinders slammed into the bow of Lanyan’s Juggernaut, and the resulting explosions shook the bridge.

“No significant damage, sir. No casualties,” Brindle reported. “One of our Mantas was struck by an exploding ekti tank. Repair crews are already on their way.”

Lanyan was more interested in the fleeing cargo escort. “Dammit, where did he go?”

“Still tracking him, sir — he’s heading out of the system.”

The Roamer pilot activated his stardrive and flashed away before Lanyan could turn his much larger battleships around and chase after him. Lanyan stood from his command chair and took a step toward the main screen. “Do we still have his homing beacon? Tell me we haven’t lost the signal.”

“I’ve got it, General.”

“Then follow him. This chase isn’t over until I say it is.”

24

Prime Designate Daro’h

Still feeling hunted inside the cave camp, Prime Designate Daro’h tried to understand the abrupt emptiness in thethism where the Mage-Imperator should have been. Until recently, they had all sensed a whisper of his distant presence, but now he was simplygone. Every Ildiran could feel it.

Attender kithmen desperately clung to the pretense of a normal routine by serving the Prime Designate. They prepared food and warm spiced drinks, brought cushions for Daro’h to sit on, and adjusted blazers for better light in the tunnel shadows. But no matter how servile they tried to be, they could never make this dusty, primitive camp into the Prism Palace.

While grim and silent sentries continued to watch for fireballs, Daro’h met with Adar Zan’nh, Yazra’h, and Tal O’nh. Chief Scribe Ko’sh, the head of the rememberer kith, sat near them, ready to quote from history and record new events. The knuckles on Yazra’h’s right hand were torn and bloody from when, unable to quell her frustration, she had lashed out at the unyielding rock.

Zan’nh delivered a report from his most recent surveys. His hair was pulled back from his face, his uniform rumpled. He had wasted little time following meticulous military dress codes since the crisis had begun.

“The Prism Palace glows like a bonfire at all hours, and many other buildings have burned down. From what I can tell, Mijistra is empty.” The effort of making such a statement was plain on the Adar’s face. “The faeros have cemented their control over the skies. Ten more of my patrol cutters failed to return. Whenever a ship attempts to make a run from Ildira, the fireballs pursue and destroy it.” He looked around, narrowed his eyes. “They will not let us leave the planet.”

Daro’h thought of all the splinter colonies in danger, the lost settlements across the Spiral Arm. All had been distraught that the Mage-Imperator was missing during their most tumultuous crisis, and now it was much worse. Jora’h had vanished entirely from thethism web, and the silence in the racial mind reverberated like an unending scream.

Now it was his responsibility, as Prime Designate, but he had no way to lead them, especially not hiding deep in a tunnel.