It took Kales around an hour to treat Thomas’s wounds.

Much of that time was spent searching the medical bay for anything the pirates had overlooked. In the end, the doctor had to improvise. Torn strips from a dead crewman’s uniform became dressings, and two belts served as a brace to immobilize the lieutenant’s injured arm. Kales even managed to salvage several doses of medication from the burned-out medkit fused to Thomas’s suit, exhausting whatever usefulness remained in the device.

He had just finished securing the final dressing when a pulse of energy passed through the ship. The deck shifted beneath them, and the remaining lights flickered before settling.

Artemis had returned to normal space.

“How do we find out where we are?” Phillip asked.

Kales lowered himself onto the edge of a counter, looking exhausted. “We can’t—not from here. Operations controls navigation, and there’s a dedicated plotting room behind it. The pirates almost certainly hold both.”

“We need to find out.” Phillip looked toward the nearest console. “Is there another way to—”

“We are outside the Nirenda system.”

The electronic voice came from the ventilation duct above them. Something struck the inside of the grille, and the metal cover dropped to the deck behind Phillip with a sharp clang. G’Dahn unfolded from the opening and lowered himself into the medical bay. Even after seeing him move through the galley, Phillip found the Serpis’s silence disturbing. His limbs seemed too long for the confined space, yet he slipped from the duct without scraping the sides.

“Commander G’Dahn,” Kales said, relief breaking through his fatigue. “Thank God. Have you found a way off the ship?”

G’Dahn did not answer immediately. His attention moved first to the covered cylinder at the rear of the medical bay. Then to Phillip. “There is no way off this ship.”

Kales slumped against the counter. Phillip heard something different in the statement. It had not been despair, and it had not been directed at the doctor. It was simply information. Once Phillip moved past the instinctive reaction G’Dahn provoked, he found he could follow more than the words produced by the translator pin. The angle of the Serpis’s head, the tension in his limbs, and the low vibrations beneath each hiss conveyed something close to meaning before the machine spoke.

Phillip did not know why he could read him so easily, but he set that question aside. “How many pirates?”

“I have counted at least fifteen,” G’Dahn replied. “They believe you and Lieutenant Thomas were cast adrift during transition. Their commander knows I remain aboard and has search teams moving through the ship.”

“Will they come here?” Kales asked.

“They will search every primary compartment.” The Serpis made a short clicking sound before the translator continued. “They are not methodical.”

The judgment carried more irritation than concern. G’Dahn did not appear to regard any single pirate as a serious threat.

“Do you know what they want?” Phillip asked. He allowed a slight note of deference into his voice. G’Dahn possessed information and confidence, both of which were useful. Arrogance was something Phillip understood how to manage.

“They are attempting to gain control of the ship’s arsenal,” G’Dahn said. “Specifically, the antimatter warheads.”

“We have to get off the ship,” Kales said. “We have to warn Fleet Command.”

“Fleet Command would destroy Artemis rather than allow the vessel to remain in pirate hands,” G’Dahn replied. “The warheads make that response more urgent.”

The statement connected with Thomas’s earlier warning.

Phillip looked at the Serpis. “You intend to destroy the ship.” The statement drew a quiet gasp from Kales. Phillip tilted his head slightly toward the doctor. “It is the practical decision.”

“Yes.” G’Dahn’s dark eyes remained fixed on him.

Kales stared at both of them. “Wait. What?” His voice rose. “That’s insane. That’s suicide.”

“Warhead isn’t a term anyone uses for a bullet, is it?” Phillip asked. The ease with which he accepted the idea disturbed him less than it probably should have. “These weapons are dangerous?”

“One warhead can inflict significant damage upon a planetary surface,” G’Dahn said. “Artemis carries six.”

“We have to tell Fleet Command,” Kales insisted. “We cannot simply destroy the ship.”

Phillip watched G’Dahn closely. The Serpis’s posture had changed. His shoulders had lowered, and one long arm had shifted slightly away from his body. He was preparing to act, though he had not yet decided against whom.

“What do we need to do?” Phillip asked.

“You can’t be serious,” Kales protested, turning toward him.

“Our task is clear.” Phillip was unsure why he chose the word, but its effect on G’Dahn was immediate. The Serpis stilled. Some tension left his frame, as though Phillip had restored an order G’Dahn believed should never have required explanation.

“But we’ll all die,” Kales said. He sounded offended that neither of them seemed to recognize the obvious.

“We cannot allow the warheads to be used,” Phillip replied.

G’Dahn inclined his head. “You understand the task.” He turned toward Kales and moved closer.

“The doctor is useful,” Phillip said quickly.

G’Dahn stopped. One hand remained slightly extended toward Kales.

“He knows the ship’s systems better than I do,” Phillip continued. “Thomas is incapacitated. The doctor has value.”

G’Dahn shifted his gaze back to Kales. “Do you still question our direction, Doctor?”

Kales stared into the Serpis’s black eyes. Then he looked toward Phillip. Phillip gave him a slow, deliberate nod.

“Yes,” Kales said too quickly. “Yes, I understand.”

G’Dahn remained focused on him for several seconds, measuring the answer. Then he turned away. “The engines offer the most effective means of destroying the vessel. I will determine how strongly Engineering is defended. Once I know, we will plan our action.” He looked back toward Phillip. “Can you reach the upper decks?”

Phillip glanced at Kales. The doctor nodded, though he still appeared dazed. “Yes.”

“The pirates have already searched those sections. We should be able to meet on the observation deck without interference. You cannot remain here.”

G’Dahn reached for the open ventilation shaft. He drew himself upward with a single smooth motion and disappeared into the duct. A whisper passed across the metal as he moved away, then there was silence.

Phillip looked at Thomas, still unconscious on the treatment platform. “Where can we hide him?”

Kales stared at the empty vent. “What does it matter? We’re all dead now.”

“G’Dahn was about to kill you.” Kales looked at him. Phillip lowered his voice. “I just got back into circulation. I’m not ready to take myself out of it.”

“What do you mean?”

“The locker you used. Can Thomas survive in there?”

Kales considered the question. "For a while. The drawers aren’t refrigerated unless the cooling system is activated, and the seals can be left open enough for air.”

“Then help me move him.”

Kales retrieved several small absorbent pads from an almost-empty supply box. He wiped the blood from Thomas’s face and secured one beneath his nose before helping Phillip lift him from the treatment platform.

“What is your plan?” Kales asked. The doctor wanted to survive. Phillip hoped that need would keep him cooperative.

“Did I have a weapon when I was found?” Phillip asked. Kales looked at him. “Polson said the captain confiscated something.”

“I believe so. A pistol.”

“One weapon will not help against the pirates,” Kales said. “Their fields will deflect the needles.”

“Emotional support then," Phillip snorted. He could remember feelings, knowledge of a weapon that seemed to offer an alternative he could not define. “Where would Getz have put it?”

“There’s a security safe in the captain’s quarters.”

“Can you open it?”

“I have an emergency medical override, but the system will record my code. The bridge will receive an alert, and the captain’s quarters are close to it.”

They lowered Thomas onto the morgue slab and rolled him carefully into the open locker. Kales adjusted his position to protect the dressings and ensured the door did not close completely against the seal.

“What about G’Dahn?” Kales asked.

“One thing at a time.” Phillip eased the locker shut, leaving the ventilation gap Kales had indicated.

“Let’s get the weapon first. Then we deal with G’Dahn.”

“You must have more of a plan than that,” Kales protested.

“Why? It’s a good plan.”

Kales stared at him. “It’s a start,” the doctor muttered.

They stepped out of the morgue. Phillip raised one hand, stopping Kales before he reached the medical-bay entrance.

Voices came from the corridor, then the electrical hum of a needle rifle. A short burst followed by the sound of needles striking flesh and the deck beyond the doorway.

“This one’s dead,” someone called.

“These too,” another voice answered. “Keep checking them.”

“All right.”

Kales went pale and began searching the room for another hiding place. Phillip remained still, listening. The pirates were moving methodically along the passage, firing into bodies to ensure none of the crew remained alive. They would reach the medical bay within moments.

“What do we do?” Kales whispered.

Phillip looked across the compartment. Thomas’s ruined pressure suit lay in a heap beside one of the treatment beds. A dead crewman lay nearby. Phillip grabbed the suit and dragged it toward the body.

“What are you doing?” Kales asked.

“Help me put him in this.”

The doctor responded well to direct instructions. Together, they forced the corpse into the damaged suit and fastened enough of it to conceal the uniform beneath.

Phillip pushed Kales back. Then he took a breath and drove his heel into the dead man’s face. Bone broke beneath the impact.

Kales recoiled.

Phillip struck the face again, destroying anything that might allow an easy identification.

“What the hell are you doing?” hissed Kales.

“Get into the morgue.”

The sounds outside stopped. Phillip’s blows had carried through the doorway. The sudden silence told him the pirates were taking position before entering. He picked up the fallen ventilation grille and moved toward the rear doorway. Phillip threw it across the medical bay. The grille struck the deck beneath the open duct and clattered loudly, as though it had fallen from above then slipped back into the morgue beside Kales.

The medical-bay door opened. Two pirates entered with rifles raised, sweeping their weapons across the compartment in broad, controlled arcs. One saw the fallen grille. He looked up and aimed into the open vent. The other spotted the corpse in Thomas’s suit.

“Varna,” he said over his comm. “We found someone in Medical. Can’t identify him—the thing destroyed his face.” He looked toward the vent. “We’re checking the ducts. Everyone, watch the ceilings.”

The first pirate climbed onto a treatment platform and peered into the opening. He fired a burst along the duct, filling it with the metallic hiss of ricocheting needles.

“It follows the corridor,” he called.

The two men left the medical bay, moving slowly and watching the ceiling. Sporadic bursts sounded as they fired into the vents ahead of them.

Phillip waited until the noise had receded. “Quickly.”

He slipped from the morgue and crossed the medical bay. Kales followed close behind. They entered the corridor and moved in the opposite direction from the search team.

“Do you think they’ll get G’Dahn?” Kales whispered. Phillip did not slow.

“I’m not feeling that lucky.”

Next Chapter: XIII