The Auditor

Act 4, Scene 3

A Moreauverse Novella

“We've detected a spike in one of the reactors, sir. It's fusing helium."

Johan blinked, feeling his jaw unhinge. Salen was still in the facility, somewhere! He had to find him before something happened that would tear his heart in two. Everyone understood the basics of hydrogen fusion reactors which were much more stable than antimatter reactors, if four times the size to produce the same output. They bombarded hydrogen and its isotopes under intense magnetic and gravitational loads until they fused, releasing prodigious amounts of energy.

Helium, being non-magnetic, was cast off as a result and usually funneled via gravity containment to areas where the resultant heat could be harvested to provide power. If the helium was not vented away and the hydrogen fuel not cut off the reactor would contain the heat until its gravity inducers failed.

The resultant release of fusion energy and heat was invariably catastrophic, no matter how small the fusion reactor.

“I've got to go." He turned toward the door.

“Halt, Auditor." The colonel's voice of command was hard and unyielding, carrying far enough for nearby soldiers to react. They immediately turned and formed a loose cordon between Johan and the exit, their weapons held at the ready, opaque visors inscrutable. “Go where?"

Johan waved a hand toward the machine bay and beyond. “My mate is in there, they were last seen in the core. I have to find them and get them out."

“And likely die with them." Black said in that same commanding tone. “No, you are leading those morries and others, so lead them. Get on these ships and evacuate, now." He turned, increasing his voice as somewhere in his suit a microphone picked up his words. “Evacuate immediately. All Falcons return to your vessels and withdraw. Regroup at assembly point echo." His voice boomed through the hangar and the medics immediately began hastily grabbing up their equipment, hustling the moreaus they were caring for up the ramps of their landing craft. “All remaining station personnel you locate are to be brought aboard your ships unless they are actively resisting. Withdraw immediately, full burn to assembly point echo. Falcon one, out!" He turned to the soldier who had delivered the dire news. “How long before containment failure?"

“That's hard to judge, sir, it all depends on fuel inflow. We're still detecting ongoing hydrogen growth so the fuel system is somehow trapped wide open, probably when the reactor came back online. The magnetics are within tolerance containing the hydrogen and the gravitics are still at thirty percent load. If that remains constant I'd say four hours, no more than six, before containment failure. It'll be fusing lithium, by then."

“Auditor!" Black bellowed at a very distracted Johan. “Snap out of it! If your mate can get out they will, of not there is not a damn thing you can do to recover them. It'll take those tugs three hours to reach minimum radius and that's only if you get out now. Get your people and load up! Now!"

Heeding the colonel's words Rakshasa was already moving toward the nearest freighter, disappearing in a deck level hatch in its hull before Johan could get his spinning mind back into drive. He lurched, stumbled, and fell into a run toward the hatch which had gone from 'guarded, stay back' to 'get the fuck in here right now', the soldiers barking at the startled moreaus in the other bay. After a few were all but dragged through others began filtering in and, moments later, it was a flood.

It was not chaos, however. The mercenaries established some sort of coordination that allowed the most efficient flow of bodies through the door and directed them toward the freighters. The drives on one where already spooling up with a dull rumble and the mercs directed the flow of refugees around the safety zone painted on the floor around the engines. The vast clamshell doors began to slowly draw closed as the line split toward the second freighter as well.

“What's going on?" Baron asked as he sidled up to Johan who was standing mutely, watching the door, hoping beyond reason to see a coal black, big tailed silhouette come through.

“Fusion reactor's running away, it's starting to fuse helium." He heard himself reply without looking toward the shorter raccoon. A moment later Baron was gone. Some minutes later the Leftenant was at his side.

“Auditor, we've got to go. Most everyone is aboard." She said firmly, grasping his upper arm.

“Salen." Johan resisted until her pull drew him off balance and he was forced to stagger along with her or fall on his face.

“Who?"

“The Associate." He tried to slow but her urgency was unyielding. “He's my mate. He disappeared when we were transiting the core."

“Damn." The Leftenant swore but did not stop as they reached the deck level hatch of a freighter. “Sorry, sir, but there's nothing we can do for him now. There's no way to find him and no way else off this stick of dynamite. We've got to get moving." She grabbed his shoulders, turned him, and shoved him through the hatch.

There was a ladder just within and Johan found himself numbly climbing, the Leftenant chivvying him from below as the hatch hissed closed, its collar retracting upward into the hull. The rumble of the drives became a throb as they shifted to gravity plane. The Falcon's troop ship, a modified lighter, was just beyond a gaping hole with stars and a smear of debris behind it.

He found Rakshasa and an unkempt looking human in a security uniform at the freighter's controls, the tiger looking focused and confident as his fingers danced across controls. Occasionally he would grow a few words and the human would perform other tasks. The freighter slid forward.

“We get everyone?" The Leftenant asked as she leaned in through the cockpit hatch.

“Missing five." The human said, leaving the tiger to pilot. The man had a headset over his unkempt hair and was listening carefully. “Escort says out one klik, then ascend thirty degrees to port, maintain course two thousand kilometers under constant acceleration."

“Copy." Raks grunted as the rock receded around them and stars filled the forward view.

“Copy, Falcon one. We'll follow, ten kliks." The human turned to look at Johan and the Leftenant. “We did a headcount before sealing the hatches, we're missing five. All were accounted for after the lights came back on."

“Who, do we know?"

“Uh, the one called Baron and four other 'coon technicals."

“Oh, fucking bless those stupid ring tailed bastards." She breathed and Johan cast her a confused look. “I know what they're going to try."

The eldest moreau, by experience, in the Elph Polaris Mining Facility charged out of the escape elevator with four of his kin in tow, their tails lashing behind them as they sought to keep their balance in their headlong sprint. They quickly sorted through the hundreds of discarded thruster packs checking charges before slinging two over each of their backs. They were, luckily, designed to piggy-back for heavier loads so they were quickly slaved to one controller. Each launched into the transition space and down the tube leading to the core under full thrust.

They found the core fully lit when they emerged, the towering transfer column's safety beacons glowing painfully bright as an excess of charge built up within the cables that, even from five hundred meters away they could hear thrumming angrily. Even under standard power load getting within ten meters could cause injury but, at their current state of excitement they kept a much safer two hundred and more meters away as they navigated around toward the bright beacon of a landing platform.

Each shucked their thrusters even as they skidded to graceless landings and continued full out down the corridor leading toward the fusion reactors. Each had an independent control center which was usually unmanned except during maintenance shutdowns and startups. They stopped at the maintenance room and scrambled for tools, wheeling a large, heavy toolbox out ahead of them as they continued on.

They did not, however, make their way to the control centers. If the reactor was running away due to a frozen fuel control valve there was nothing that could be done from control, the valve had to be closed manually.

They came to a startled, sliding halt, however when they turned a corner and found themselves facing ten uniformed soldiers with intimidatingly large weapons leveled toward them. Behind the squad was a handful of confused, frightened looking moreaus. One of them, fur entirely black, wore not a shred of clothing.

The two groups eyed each other for several long heartbeats, one armed, the other weaponless. Three of the uniformed mercenaries carried large, heavy looking toolboxes as easily as handbags. One of them raised a forearm, fist clenched.

“You furballs got the same idea?" The voice that came out was augmented and loud. “Kill the fuel flow?" Baron bobbed his head. “Then let's go." The raised arm swung to one side and the group turned.

“This way." Baron said as he moved toward them, “Further back, the way you came from. Two corridors and turn right to the fuel control bunker."

“Nothing left there." The merc said with a shake of his opaque visor. “Someone used a manpack excavator to collapse the corridor, we'll never get through in time. I was told it was beta reactor that was running away, can we get to its fuel cut off?"

“Yes." Baron said, nodding toward the corridor the group of mercs and stragglers was heading for. “Only one, if the primary control bunker was collapsed." With a wave of one arm the leader of the mercs sent Baron and his group down the side passage. The wheeled toolbox clattered over seams in the deck plating and almost spilled a couple of times but a merc in their augmented armor kept it upright easily.

When they arrived at the fuel transfer line for the beta reactor, though, they realized their doom.

The manual fuel cutoff valve was missing, sheared off level with the pipe, its fitting turned into an unrecognizable lump of slag by someone using a portable sonic excavator. Baron and his crew stopped, aghast that someone would purposely render the fuel flow untouchable. The only other way was through the labyrinth of passageways to the outer surface of the asteroid where the hydrogen fuel tanks were. And then they would have to don vacuum suits, trudge across the surface, and physically disconnect the fuel directly, venting it into space.

There was no time to make the attempt and only humans could wear those suits, the ones Baron and the others who had assembled the station were taken away after the fuel store was completed to keep anyone from sabotaging it.

Baron waved a helpless arm at the melted wax-like lump frozen in mid-drip down the curving sides of the fuel conduit. “That was the only manual shut off. Someone's destroyed it."

“You mean someone wanted this to happen?" The merc who did all of the talking asked, incredulous.

“It was intentional, yes."

“Fuck." The man barked with feeling, throwing up his arms in frustration. “Okay, we fuck off per orders. You five, come with us. We're heading back to our ship and evacuating." He turned, then paused and look back. “If any of you fuzzies want to stay behind because you don't trust us, feel free. We're not dragging you, but we're not sticking around long enough to argue."

No one argued. The five raccoons abandoned their tools and joined the gaggle already stringing along behind the mercs. They moved out at a trot, for the armored humans, but at nearly a full sprint for the moreaus without the powered assistance. When someone flagged one of the mercs simply scooped them up, tossed them over their shoulder like a sack of grain, and continued on.

The moreaus were more than winded when they came into a large bay where a single ship was parked, its ramp down, a savaged human corpse sprawled out on their back at the base of the ramp. A few gasps and cries of dismay escaped panting throats at the sight of the walls inside of the ship's open bay. A few quailed and fell back, preparing to flee humans that made such a display.

“That was his." The naked, black furred moreau said, his voice a bruised rasp, as he pointed at the supine human whose head was burst open like a melon. “Not theirs. That was the one hunting and killing you the past few months."

“Years." One of the raccoons said because Baron was too winded to speak. “Three years, four months. The first to go missing, whose bones turned up two weeks later, was from my creche. 71-VIK; Viktor. He liked to laugh."

“Who the hell cares." The merc leader called back sharply, pointing at another ship further into the bay, its side gaping wide and brightly lit showing only restraint chairs. Several other soldiers already occupied many of them having returned from other assignments at the first evacuation call. “Everyone get on, find someplace to hunker down, out of the way." He stomped into the ship's open belly and turned toward the bridge. The moreaus hastened aboard as swiftly as their exhausted legs could carry them, slumping in corners and between seats.

“We're an hour and some change behind the 8-ball, boss." The pilot said as the all clear was called and the side of the ship closed with a heavy clank and hiss of finality. There was no going back. “Don't know if we can beat radius even going over redline. It'll be tight."

“Dump the ordinance and pods, I'll find some way to write it off. Now get us the fuck out of here." The ship shifted, gravity swimming as the speed overwhelmed the inertial compensation. The speaker came back. “Okay, everyone, we're going to be taking on Gs. You morries are going to have to tough it out, we don't have the gear or seats for you." He turned and dropped into the one nearest the bridge, drawing down the restraint bar. “Sorry, but it's eat Gs or suck plasma."

“Hoo rah." One of the other soldiers exclaimed, echoed by others in a repeating cadence that even some of the moreaus halfheartedly adopted as the ship clanked and moaned metallically, shuddering as the weighty weapons pods and combat load were jettisoned.

And then thrust began with a vibrating roar, completely disregarding the 'no thermal thrust' as the ship spun adroitly in space and sped away from the doomed facility, small explosions following behind as bits of crackle fell into their gravitational wake to be immolated by the cone of fire pushing them away.

Even compensated by the ship's internal dampers the G forces were extreme, pushing the moreaus into corners, between seats, or against the rear hull to the point they feared their lungs would collapse.

But they were away. Something Baron never expected to know before his eventual euthanizing; he was free of the Polaris Mine, but to an uncertain destination and future.

“Looks like they're abandoning the station." Geralt reported as he watched his sensor plot on the bridge of the small launch. Seated a meter up and two meters behind him in the command seat Jeyev leaned forward slightly as the scan tech's display was mirrored on the main view.

At the 'bottom' most portion of the asteroid, the asshole where the ejecta from processing was jettisoned, where the pulped remains of the previous commander and his staff had been shat out along with almost a hundred bastardized animals, a ship had emerged from the freighter bay. It moved off several kilometers before taking up station.

“They were sent here to take it, why the fuck are they unassing now?" Jeyev mused. He had made the pilot take up a position in the shadow of a larger rock when the freighter parked at the edge of the belt launched four combat ships. While their launch was more than well armed, upgraded and modified using weapons cannibalized from the fighters in the cap, he did not relish their odds against four armed corvettes.

They had made contact with the Fury, the frigate anchoring the operation of the mercs sent in by the station's new owners, and had been told to find a place to stay out of the way if shooting started. The enemy corvettes zipped in and out, harassing the much larger ship with targeting pulses that their ship's sensors picked up, but they never fired, zipping back out of direct engagement range for the frigate with surprising speed and agility.

“Think the animals ran 'em off?" The communications tech mused, tapping the edges of their console with their thumbs in a way that made Jeyev want to take their annoying head off.

“In the dark?" Jeyev spat. The station's power had cycled up an hour before despite the complete hash Larent had made to the system, with whatever computer virus the Auditor had released compounding the chaos. “Fuck no, they've been ordered off." A second ship emerged from the cap and began burning away under full thrust, a brilliant series of detonations chasing along behind them as crackle dust met their thrust jets.

“Freighter undocking." The scan tech reported, “Freighters away, both of the mediums."

“Anyone spotted the Yarek, yet?"

“Dunno, the corvettes don't seem to have vectored on them. With their comms fried and engine core holed they've barely got enough thrust to escape the belt." That had been one of Jeyev's better bits of inspiration, to place a core punch deep in the guts of the other launch in the bay. Leave a dozen of his co-conspirators behind floating in the asteroid field with no primary drive or jump capability. That was another thirteen 'partners' cut out of the pay split. They could either return to the station, and whatever justice the animals and their human sympathizers would mete out, or… well, nothing. There were no other stations in the belt, yet, because the Polaris was only forty-ish percent mined out.

Seven years of full throttle production and they'd only gotten forty percent of the surveyed yield out of it. His purchasers had paid handsomely and thought it had been half played out; he sold them almost ten percent for free and still got out with almost enough to buy a fucking planet. Certainly a palatial orbital habitat or permanent private beach on a resort planet where talking animals were expressly banned and extradition not considered.

“Signal the Yarek, tell them to shoot those fucking freighters, they're still close enough."

“No comms, boss, you made sure they were fucked as soon as the core punch went off."

“Gods damn it!" Jeyev bellowed, slapping the arm of his command pod. “Karel, maneuver for a firing solution on the lighter and lead freighter."

“Uh, commander…" The comms tech spoke diffidently. “Those freighters are almost fully loaded. If one goes up this close to the station the shockwave and thermal front will impact the station, maybe kick it off. No way we'd outrun that wave front."

“The lighter, then. Can we get inside of its sensor shadow to pop off disabling shots at the freighter's drive pods?"

“Doubt it." The navigator said after reviewing several plots at his console. “Could slip in under the trailing freighter, take on the one ahead of it, maybe cause a collision when it loses thrust."

“Detonation." The comm tech pointed out again. “Take out the trailing freighter's drives, that'll get some of them, at least. Maybe the other one will turn around so we can hit its drives too, leave 'em both dead in space before the lighter comes back around?"

“Can you keep us in the shadows from the corvettes?"

“They're probably too far away harassing the Fury and that other ship to catch us on their screens." The navigator reported without looking up from his plots. “And with them kicking up a storm with their radiant thrusters lit no one will be able to see shit in their contrails."

“Perfect, we can slip away in the dust after they're floating coffins. Can we get a 'roid buster across, clamp it to one of the freighters?" Busters were sizable explosive charges originally intended to destroy asteroids that could pose a navigational hazard but far enough away that the shockwave would not daisy chain uncontrollably. Each launch carried four which it would deliver to prospecting drones that would make the placement.

“Hell yeah, we can. I've got six prospectors within range to do that, just dinkering around in space without comms to direct them. Let me link up with one." The comm tech's voice rose in triumphant glee at the idea of detonating a freighter hauling thousands of tons of refined crackle when they were far enough away to avoid the resulting chain reaction. “Wait until rescue gets close and… pop!"

“Set it up. Take us in." Jeyev ordered, a leering grin of victory crossing his own face.

“Asset Manager , this is the Auditor, aboard the alpha-two-two romeo, over." Johan stood between the tiger and the human on the spacious, if small, bridge of the freighter that only had a designation 'A22-R'.

After a couple of seconds of distance latency a response came back, crisp and clear. “Auditor, this is the Asset Manager, subcaptain Grant at the helm. Good to hear your voice, sir." Their freighter was limited to voice comms having no holo emitter or recorder installed. “What is your situation, Auditor?"

“Sketchy, captain Grant. We are evacuating the station under maximum thrust toward a position transmitted on a sideband channel. Station nuclear fusion reactors have suffered a catastrophic fuel control issue and are running away, we expect overload in three to five hours. The Falcon fleet is also aware of this situation and have agreed to stand down weapons if we are."

“Manager concurs, Auditor. Falcon fleet has adjusted course and are withdrawing toward the received coordinates. I will advise our escort to safe weapons and withdraw to our staging point, transmitting en clair."

“Acknowledged, Manager. We have wounded aboard and a full cargo of unstable explosives, request remote extraction of live cargo."

“Understood, sir, Manager will be standing by for crew transfer at standoff coordinates. Be advised, we detect additional ships in your vicinity. One is the Stateroom, twelve thousand kilometers to your port bow, hands free. Two others are not identified; Yugo class transports, weapons systems detected. One is at thirty percent power, no comms traffic; probably dead in space, five thousand two hundred kilometers from your aft port beam at seventy degrees by thirty. The second is under thrust, one hundred seventy kilometers directly astern in your thrust wake. Six others appear to be unmanned drones, of which only one is currently active and vectoring to the nearer of the two Yugo class vessels."

“Postulated range of detected weapons systems?"

“Five thousand kilometers. However, due to density of field debris and the dust your thrust is igniting, whatever they have will ablate or detonate prematurely beyond one hundred kilometers. It is not responding to hails and is not transmitting, either their comms are down or they are running silent."

“The drones?"

“Five are powered but inactive, one is on an intercept course with the Yugo trailing you, purpose indeterminate."

“Very well, captain Grant. We should rendezvous at the standoff coordinates within two to three hours. If you've got anything with the range pop that Yugo shadowing us with targeting scanners, interrogative imperative modulation, see what it does."

“Broken Fang , here." Another voice, a rumbling growl, cut into the lag of silence. “We can be in position to ping your shadow in about thirty-seven minutes. Our weapons, though, will have the same problems with ablation. You folks are creating quite the light show in there. If that little bird decides to close we'll be too far away to assist."

“Copy that, Fang. The Falcon transport?"

“Falcon One, we're listening in." The colonel's voice entered the conversation. “We can fall back but our weapons are pretty much limited to ground attack, they wouldn't even classify as point defense systems in a space fight. We'll focus our attention on the drones, let your corvettes deal with the Yugo. We can't fall back too much, though, your thrusters are creating a hell of a wake in the crackle dust. Our armor wouldn't last long if we cut across your contrails."

“Agreed, Colonel, don't risk it." Johan said as he watched the navigation plot and their external sensors. They could only detect the two ships forward of their mid beam. Everything to the aft was lost in the overwhelming trail of energies created by their drives running full out and the resultant expanding wave of detonating crackle dust. At least that was fading within a few hundred kilometers rather than continuing to propagate outward. It blinded their sensors to anything that might be even slightly behind them.

“Auditor, Fang, we just got pinged, by the Stateroom. Stand by, continuing target scan, imperative modulation; pulse message. Transmit function destroyed. Apparently the Stateroom can listen in, but it can't transmit. Stand by. Positioning to assist."

Johan felt no hope, though. There had been no time. Salen could not have gotten to the emergency lifts and then the cap before the Falcon's landing craft there gained entry to the hangar. The colonel did let slip that a ship had escaped when they forced open the blast doors. The ghost was on script, it had gone weapons free when he initiated act four, taking full control of the ship.

No one alive was on the ship.

“Falcon One, here. Is that yours, the ship closing at fucking seven klicks a second? Falcon Three reports it's identical to the one that escaped the hangar in the command cap."

“That's ours, Falcon One. Do not engage." The commander of the Fang reported. “They're coming in to assist with that Yugo if it gets frosty."

“Missile launch, missile launch!" A new voice exclaimed, but in the background, over the Fang's open channel. “The derelict Yugo just launched a salvo; six missiles!"

“Target?"

“Undetermined. stand by, calculating trajectory. The other Yugo, the one trailing the freighters!" There was a long pause before the scan tech on the Broken Fang spoke again. “Derelict Yugo is moving, under radiant thrust, seven hundred meters per second. Missiles wavering, detonation. Detonation. They're ablating in the dust. Three trashed. Four. All six missiles trashed, sirs. Derelict vessel still on an intercept course with its target."

“Any idea who's piloting those things?"

“Design spec is crew of three, passenger capacity of seven. Designed for light courier or passenger transport. Jump capable and we do detect a functional jump core in the one trailing the freighters. No core signature on the derelict." Falcon One's technician reported, through the colonel. “Cobble on weapons and the carrying capacity is reduced but no way of knowing how much."

“They're shooting at each other?" Johan asked, frowning. Salen would not shoot at anything that was not an immediate and direct threat if he were able to. Considering the transports had not been in the freighter bay when the Falcons boarded he could not be in either one. “Consider both craft hostile. Fang, how long until you're in engagement range?"

“For a targeting ping? About seventeen minutes. To actually shoot at either of them and expect to hit? Forty, at least."

“Discontinue approach. Make for the Manager with the others, maintain overwatch. The Stateroom is listening, they're better equipped to assist and faster."

“Copy that, Auditor, turning about. Ship from the cap yours, Falcon?"

“Yes; Falcon Three. Falcon Two ingressed at the hangar for the core, at least where our schematics indicated it was. We have no reports that it has egressed the facility, nor detect it on scans."

“What are they waiting for? The window for safe radius is getting pretty tight."

“Unknown, the asteroid material has cut off comms with the inside."

“Your shadow has peeled off, Auditor. The derelict has gotten close enough to actively target, one thousand two hundred kliks. Salvo away; six missiles. Trajectory plot toward the active Yugo. Looks like they're going for each other." Fang's scanner tech now had their channel so their entire combined fleet could listen in, even if they did have the scanners and optics to actually watch. “Active Yugo accelerating to closing speed, seven hundred kliks, active pings. Salvo away, salvo away; twelve outbound missiles tracking on derelict Yugo."

With their aft sensors blind Johan could only listen in. Rakshasa and the human said nothing, likewise listening while focusing on their readouts. Johan could see that their drive temps were creeping into the yellow but were still well within margin. Forward ablation shields were suffering the worse for their brutal acceleration, however, well into the yellow already. Hopefully the dust from the tailing field would thin out soon or they could get sanded down as effectively as the missiles were.

“That active drone just stopped, it's collecting something." Falcon One reported. “Auditor, I am getting this feeling in my gut that says: mine. Do we have anyone that can engage?"

“Negative." Fang reported. “Stateroom is still eleven thousand out, continuing to accelerate. It's on you, Falcon One. Can you engage safely?"

“Affirmative. Stand by." The colonel replied. On the forward scan the icon for the Falcon landing craft began to slow and drift off, dropping below their beam. After several more minutes it disappeared into their aft blind spot.

“Falcon One, this is Falcon Two, we're away." The third landing craft of the Falcon squadron reported into the middle of their conversation, causing a brief pause from the other ships. “We're burning hard, had to shed the pods and we're running twenty percent over redline."

“Copy that, Falcon Two. Continue your burn, best speed. Sacrifice what weight you can, damn the ledgers." The colonel replied, his voice grim as he chewed the numbers in his head, or listened to his science officer. But he already had a task to do that was more immediate than the plight of one of his ships. “Whatever that drone's got clamped in its manipulators is big. It's a flattish box, about five meters by two by two."

“Asteroid charge." The human seated in the co-pilot's seat said with a nod. “Used them to clear bigger rocks out of the navigation paths." He turned his head slightly to look back and up at Johan standing behind him between the two flight control stations. “Rocks a lot bigger than this freighter. It's going to pack one hell of a bang."

Johan relayed the information through to Falcon One. “Try to take out its thrusters, Falcon One. Best try not detonating the payload."

“We copy, going to have to get within fifty klicks for a clean shot through this dust. The drone is about seventy clicks below you but not closing fast. Seven minutes." They waited in tense silence as the time ticked down and their indicators rose higher into the yellow. The bow plating was getting uncomfortably close to the red but its progress had slowed considerably. Johan regretted, for a moment, that the freighter was not designed for atmospheric entry because they would have far tougher friction plating. “Target acquired. Firing narrow beam… now. Good hit, good hit. Drone slowing, two thrusters dark. We're pulling back. It's got two thrusters left but it's losing speed. Best not to poke the bear too many times."

“Good call, Colonel." Fang's commander reported. “ Stateroom is four thousand clicks out, vectoring on the Yugos. They're still exchanging weapons fire but deep in the dust they're not doing much to each other."

“That's Jeyev and his co-conspirators." Johan said hollowly, his mind still on his missing skunk shaped dog. He could only hope Salen had found his way to one of the other landing craft or escaped some other way. Hopefully he was not stuck alone in the core due to something as stupid as a failed thruster pack.

Or dead already.

“Dissention in the ranks?" Fang's commander chuckled. “All to the good, for us."

Abruptly the freighter shuddered under their feet, red lights swimming across the status displays as Rakshasa and the human launched into a frenzy of activity. “Blasted fuck!" The human swore while the tiger merely snarled in fury. A chorus of dismayed cries issued from the rear of the freighter among the stacks of highly volatile ingots. “Fucking drone abort detonated when it couldn't keep up. Shockwave smacked us pretty good."

“One thruster completely fucked." Rakshasa snarled, stabbing at an indicator that was flashing red. “No breaches, aft ablation plates took a beating, port side hatch controls blown." He swore vehemently as his long fingers, thick as Johan's biggest toe but slender looking on the cat's huge hands. “We're losing thrust."

“Can we make radius?"

“Just add forty minutes to an hour, then, yeah." The human muttered morosely. “That reactor should just about be fusing lithium at this point. If it starts fusing beryllium no safeties designed could keep it from popping. Hell, fucking stars start collapsing at that stage."

“Auditor, what's your status?" Colonel Black asked while Rakshasa kept up his furious tirade and his fingers danced on the control panel.

“Took a beating, lost a thruster. We're losing thrust but we're still limping along. Figure another hour on arrival at radius. No breaches and we're holding together well, considering. What's your status?"

“I've got a good pilot." The colonel rumbled a very human growl. “Got us bow in on the shockwave so no major damage done. Jettisoned the weapons pods proactively to reduce bypass drag so we're unarmed, now."

“Auditor, Manager, do you require assistance?" Subcaptain Grant added to their channel.

“No, Manager, we'll make it, just a bit slower."

“Affirmative, Auditor. We're adjusting our trajectory, plot nav coming at you."

“I got it." The human at the controls said as he brought it up on his display. “That'll put them right at radius, and that's if our projections are accurate. Cuts our ETA back to where it was, though."

“She's a tough ship." Johan replied. “She can take a lot more punishment than that."

“But can we? They're going to have to extend boarding tubes to get everyone off. And this tub's taken a beating. You won't want it near your hull if it goes, not even within a thousand kliks with this much crackle aboard."

“We'll manage." Johan offered confidently as Falcon One's indicator reappeared on their scanner display. The other freighter was already pulling considerably ahead, a vast contrail, kilometers wide, of brilliant white light fanning out behind it as the crackle dust ignited in its wake. “Spool up the jump core, just in case."

“Fuck, man, did that firs' thing." Rakshasa said as he pointed to a steady green light to one side of his display. “Set a nav point above th' ecliptic, about two light months. It's been in th' data exchange th' 'ole damn time." He turned his huge head to grin a deadly _Fang_led grin. “Jus' in case."

“Other freighter did the same." The human said, nodding toward the brilliant display ahead. “If we see the station go we're jumping, gravity well and debris be damned."

Rakshasa snorted with dark humor. “Uh huh, set 'er up for zero relative delta-V, so there be a nice cloud o' atoms on th' other end instead o' a smear."

“You're an asshole, cat." The human muttered, though offering his own grunt of dark laughter.

“Better t' be an arse'ole than be corin' yours, skin 'n bones." The cat gave the human's upper arm a light swat with the back of his hand.

The banter made Johan's heart clench when he thought of Salen.

“Derelict Yugo destroyed." Fang reported a few minutes later. “Active Yugo coming about and accelerating, nine hundred kliks. Weapons range in seven minutes, or less, the dust is considerably thinner so ablation will be a lot less."

“Stateroom?"

“Twenty two hundred klicks, closing at seventeen per second."

“I'll jump if'n they start firin'." Rakshasa rumbled. Still too far.

Jeyev let out a snarling whoop as the other ship, his co-conspirators at seizing the station and imposing his iron fist on the animals, disappeared in a rapidly expanding cloud. Its immolation kicked off a shockwave of detonating crackle dust but his pilot had already slewed them about and poured on maximum thrust. The hiss of outward dust and gasses was unnerving across the hull but none of the status lights did more than flicker yellow briefly.

“Time to weapons range on the trailing freighter?"

“Three minutes, already got plots on the lasers. Engines, or core?"

“The fucking engines! Leave them floating dead and go for the other one. The shockwave'll do 'em both. Let the furry fucks see what's coming for them."

The weapons tech chuckled a sinister hiss through his teeth. “Bah boom, yeah."

“That lighter's got weapons, though." The pilot said, highlighting the Falcon landing craft twenty kilometers to one side of the lead freighter.

“Had." The scan tech reported. “Saw the pods tumble away when the drone self-destructed, either expended or wanted to shed drag when they took the shockwave. It's as dangerous as the others at this point. We want to take time disabling them?"

“No. Don't want a freaking PMC hunting us down for some extra-jurisdictional payback. Let 'em go."

Something cut across the forward view, a flicker too fast for their eyes to track except for the bar of discharging crackle left in its wake. “The fuck?" Yelped the pilot as their ship slewed evasively.

“Shit! Shit, shit, shit!" The scan tech yelped at the same moment. “Got a ship at five hundred klicks hauling ass, over fifteen klicks a second. Ultra-low frequency thermal emitters!" Status displays chirped in alarm as something hammered their shields. “Two hits, two misses, shields down fifteen percent!" He cast a terrified look back and up at Jeyev.

“What ship, where?" Jeyev barked as the pilot began evading madly, his console abruptly lighting up with targeting scan warnings. A few seconds later the forward view flickered and bracketed a dark, ovoid shape hurtling toward them leaving a ripple of disturbed dust in its wake.

No crackle discharges, merely a halo of disturbed dust as it plowed through, no thermal glow of active thrusters.

“That the Auditor's ship?" Jeyev asked in surprise. He had not seen any weapons pods, which were now glaringly evident as four spear like points extending from the forward curve of the thing, when it landed. The cameras in the hangar had not even revealed any tell-tale hatches which would have hidden them in recessed bays.

“Looks like it, but armed, now." Weapons said as he stabbed at his console. “Can't get a lock on the fucker, it's jamming."

“Burn through it!" Jeyev was hurled to one side in his seat, along with everyone else on the ship, as the pilot executed an evading turn that dodged another salvo of beams, overwhelming the inertial compensators. He felt a bruise already throbbing where his lower ribs impacted the side of his command seat.

“I'm trying! It's got some sort of distortion halo, and I don't know how the fuck it's moving so fast without thrusters!"

“Gravity drive, you dumb shit!" Jeyev spat. They were uncommon, but certainly not unheard of for people with planets worth of money. He leaned forward against a swift reverse juke that caused another miss from their attacker. “There, see, look! That boulder!" He used his own display to highlight the oblong rock roughly ten meters long and two meters wide. “It's going to come right past that rock. Target that and, when it's just about to pass, blast the fuck out of it."

“Damn, J, yeah, I gotcha." The weapon tech took less than a second to highlight and lock their forward energy canons on the rock. Even with the pilot's rapid gyrations he kept the lock maintained.

“We're down to about thirty percent shield, commander. Better make it good with that rock because that ship is shredding us." Lingering bars of discharged crackle littered the space between them and the closing black ship that looked like an egg flattened lengthwise, two huge reactor blisters on its narrower end and four emitters standing out around its ovoid circumference.

“Firing!" The weapons tech shouted as the energy beams lanced out without any input, already programmed when and how to fire. They speared the rock, punching right through in a shower of exploding material. They continued on further, missing the approaching ship by several hundred meters. It did not react or waver, spearing out with its own lasers. One cascaded in a bright flash from their shields and the rest missed them as the pilot executed a crisp spiraling roll.

The boulder flashed blindingly, forward screen damping automatically as it defined the detonation as an expanding rosette of energy. The approaching ship plowed into the expanding wave front and was abruptly tumbling, utterly out of control yet still traveling at almost ten kilometers a second.

“Jamming's down, halo is destabilized. Targeting! Locked!"

“Fucking fire! Everything!" Jeyev shrieked, stabbing at his console as if he had the fire controls. Five beams of energy, four of them narrow beam lasers and a wider beam of particles, lanced out toward the tumbling ship. Jeyev felt a vibration under him as the last of their missiles were ejected from their tubes, igniting milliseconds later to leap forward away from them trailing streamers of discharging crackle.

But there was no target for any of the weapons to hit, just a brief inward collapse of matter filling a void, distorting the still expanding rosette of the destroyed asteroid. “What the hell? Where'd it go?"

“Jumped!" The scan tech reported with a whoop. Jumps usually covered light seconds or more, taking the attacking ship safely away. His yelp immediately after revealed that they were not so lucky. “It's above us, seven kilometers, dead on -" A beam of light pierced the bridge followed by a crack of superheated air. Jeyev felt the hair of his brows singe and his skin flush briefly, as if he had walked past an open door into the sun after being in a refrigerated building. Then it was gone, bedlam reigning on the bridge as a shrill whistle, the sound of air escaping into space, cut through the startled voices of his crew of co-conspirators.

The shriek of depressurization ended after a few seconds as automated sealant filled the millimeter sized hole that had punched through the top of the bridge, through the pilot's flight control console, the floor, and through the underside of their ship. “Four hits!" The scan tech managed to bellow over the slowly calming tumult. “Shields gone, jump core's collapsed, reactor auto-scrammed, hull breach in here and aft galley." The man's voice quavered as he rattled off the damage, coming to the same grim conclusion.

They were as dead in space as the Yarek had been. Moreso, without even a reactor.

On the scan tech's display, mirrored on the main screen, the flattened ovoid ship hung in space, as still as a spider waiting for the twitch of a captured fly. Bits and pieces of shattered hull plating drifted away from the battered craft revealing superstructure beneath but the damage did not seem to have disabled it. After several long moments three of the weapons slid back and downward, disappearing into the torn black hull. One only retracted slightly before jamming, pointing away from the hull at a rakish angle, its deadly length warped. The damaged ship rotated about on its axis and hurtled away like a catapult stone, far too swiftly for any sort of inertial compensation to save the crew within from being turned to jelly, from dead stop to ten kliks a second in less time than Jeyev's hammering heart could pulse.

They had just been defeated by a robot ship. And it didn't even bother to finish them off.

The coxwain class super heavy, currently if only briefly identified as the Asset Manager , rendezvoused with the lead freighter nearly a thousand kilometers ahead of them, tethering it with gravity tenders while a docking umbilical extended from the titanic freighter's belt, where the huge, meters thick ablation shields could not draw together. That left a fifty meter gap from the ship's bow to its stern where palletized cargo would be stored during transit. Or, in this case, supply ships could draw alongside to deliver or take on materials and transfer crews.

By the time the Manager and Johan's freighter closed the distance, well within the expected limits of the mining outpost's blast radius, the first freighter had offloaded its live cargo and was falling away. Its thrusters ignited brilliantly as it accelerated out toward safety, away from the asteroid field where it could jump. That was all being done via automation, there were no living souls aboard, merely enough explosives to crack a planet like an egg.

Rakshasa deftly matched the Manager's velocity and attitude, drawing smoothly alongside until the gravity tenders grabbed them with a weighty groan as the hull plating took on stresses at right angles to its normal weight distribution. Nothing shifted or broke, no more red lights bloomed on the consoles; it was designed for such manipulation. The same boarding umbilical extended outward and clamped securely to the hatch.

“All green." The human said from his console. “Clean mating, positive atmo, no leaks."

“Everybody, this is our stop." One of the station's displaced security officers announced to the moreaus clustered about the long ingots of explosive rock. “Make an orderly retreat, injured first, cubs and caretakers after them. Let's make this swift, furballs, time's still counting down."

Johan, Rakshasa, and the human remained on the bridge as ancillary umbilicals delivered more fuel for the ship's thrusters. As the bay emptied the tiger and human worked together to program in an escape course that would take it safely away from the Manager before it jumped without regard to the debris and gravity around it. If it survived it survived, if it did not there would be no more loss of life.

They were the last three off of the freighter which began its disengagement burn the moment the umbilical passage was disconnected. Even though space carried no sound Johan could hear the rumble of those immense thrusters as the shockwaves of discharged plasma and crackle dust pushed past the hull of the super-heavy freighter.

“You two report to the receiving area." Johan said as he turned toward the inner passageways of what had once been the Commodore's Choice. It was still what it had originally been, though extreme modifications had been made once the Eight Worlds had purchased it for its current use. “They'll find you berths, food, and medical care. Considering the conditions since Jeyev took over I'm willing to bet both of you need to be checked over for nutrient deficiencies."

“Where ye be goin'?" Rakshasa asked as if he would once again take Salen's customary spot shadowing Johan as protective muscle.

“To the bridge, Raks." Johan offered a wan smile. “The captain will want a report."

“A'aight, Auditor man, jus' wanted to make sure is all good."

“No, my big friend, it is not all good. But we got you folks out, so there is that." Without explaining further he turned and made his way toward the bow of the ship, riding an elevator once restricted to human crew only up to the command level. He didn't bother going to the cabin he and Salen shared, passing it on his way to the bridge without changing his ragged clothing or removing his tattered face.

He stepped onto the bridge to no fanfare and barely any acknowledgment. The two guards, a bobcat and jackrabbit moreau respectively, both turned, identified him at a glance, their eyes going wide at his condition, and snapped crisp salutes. They said nothing, Johan was not the captain, he had no official rank in their Navy though his station was on par with the captain.

That personage was a black and red shepherd moreau with broad shoulders and a proud bearing, currently facing the huge main viewscreen from which another Shepherd was looking. That one was haggard, its muzzle oddly shaped, and wore nothing that they could see above its collar bones.

“... been listening to a broad spectrum transmission on the deep space receiver the last few hours. You folks really should listen in." She said with a toothless smile, ears twitching.

Lara, who had gone off to get the reactors online when they had parted in the core not so long ago and yet, it seemed, ages ago. She's the one who had to have done it; sabotaged the fuel system and prevented anyone from accessing the reactor control room.

“Yes, ma'am, we have been receiving the same transmission and we will convey it to the Auditor when he arrives." The captain said with a nod of his regal head.

“I have arrived, Captain Bander." Johan said as he advanced onto the bridge to stand beside the currently empty captain's seat. The shepherd turned and bobbed his head in greetings. “Where is she?"

“In the control booth for the runaway reactor. About a twenty second light delay at the moment, using the deep space transmitter to communicate. Internal comms seem to still be down." He waved a hand at the screen as Lara nodded, panting slightly in the growing heat of her location. Johan was surprised that she had not been baked like a holiday feast already.

“Lara," he spoke toward the screen, stepping around to stand slightly ahead of the captain. “You did not need to make this sacrifice. We still have ships inside the shockwave radius when that asteroid goes."

“Vengeance, Auditor." She said forty seconds later, heaving a sigh, ears pinning forward and back. “You know what they say about vengeance? Before you embark, you must dig two graves. One for the target of your vengeance, and one for yourself." She waved an arm mostly outside of the holo imager's pickup. “This was my occupation, Auditor, stripped away just like they stripped my clothes, my self worth." She snarled sloppily, revealing empty gums. “My teeth. For this I will bring their might to ruin. For this I will create a pyre of their works!"

“Can you contain it, Lara? Can you hold it off, for a time? We still have ships too close."

For half a minute she simply stared at him through the viewscreen. There were secondary screens at each corner of the main display, two of them showing the positions of their two fleets; the Manager and its corvettes, the Falcon frigate, cutter, and two of landing craft only a light second distant. The third Falcon landing craft was several thousand kilometers closer to the station, its thrusters a brilliant glow trailed by a hundred kilometer long fan of burning crackle dust.

“I can try. It's self sustaining, now. Even if I could cut the fuel off it wouldn't stop it, not now. I can try to shuttle more into the other reactors, reduce the thermal envelope, a little. But not for long, a half hour more, maybe? It's starting to fuse beryllium, now, just a little."

Johan bobbed his head. “We'll take it, Lara." He turned to the captain. “Set an intercept course for that landing craft." He said with a nod toward the bottom right of the main viewscreen. “Take us in, set to rotate and open the port side shields. We'll tow her into one of the corvette berths. Hopefully before the station goes."

The captain nodded crisply. “We can handle the radiation front and debris ablation at that distance, but if the cargo shields are up they're going to take the brunt of it without the shield in place."

“Just the port deck shield. We'll rotate and roll, present our starboard belly to the shock front." He turned and looked to the upper right secondary pane in the main view. “Colonel Black, we're going to move the Asset Manager in to recover your lander. Withdraw to one light hour, or jump your capitals out. The radiation wave front will be ten times that of the blast front."

“You'll be within the debris radius, Auditor, discounting the radiation front. Is your ship capable of withstanding that?"

“We certainly hope so, Colonel. She was designed to handle plowing through heavier stuff than hot sand. The space around orbital stations is damn dirty and we've still got to get our cargo transferred. No way about it but through it with a boat this big." He could not feel the ship changing orientation or accelerating, its mass was simply too great, but over the shoulder of the feline at the flight control station he saw indicators for velocity and thrust output.

She had pushed them right to redline.

“Falcon Two, this is Falcon One actual. The Asset Manager is coming to intercept you. Hang tough and maintain thrust, they're coming to get you."

Falcon Two's commander, above and between two humans whose un-helmeted faces were rimed with sweat, their eyes red with strain as they pushed their starship to its limits. “Glad to hear that, Colonel, we're ablating bad and our drives are hot. Can push maybe another twenty minutes before we have to throttle back or jettison the reactor core before it cooks us."

Johan turned his gaze down to the flight control officer, noting that one of her triangular ears was rotated rearward, awaiting orders. “How long before intercept?"

“From what you laid out, thirty-seven minutes to interception and attitude positioning. Another hour to line it up for docking; she'll fit in one of the pods but isn't designed for that kind of docking, nor are its pilots trained in the maneuver. We'll have to bring them in entirely using the grav tenders."

“Can we tug her in and hold her with the tenders? Lower the shield enough to cover her in that position?"

“You'd have to ask cargo or the flight boss, I don't -"

“Yes!" A canine barked from a couple stations away. “Sir, yes, we can. It's just a lighter with live cargo, minimal mass for the hull class. We can draw her in broadside and lower the ablation shield about… I think we can manage a bit over seventy percent without risking hull damage to the lighter." The dog was in logistics, Johan recalled, on the bridge to manage mass distribution and the overall balance. With over a dozen ships in converted cargo pods they had to be very fastidious about their mass distribution. “We won't be able to accelerate much with them in that position though, but we should be able to ride out that shockwave. I think. Damage control?" He kicked the can down the roadway to another moreau, this one another dog of a different breed, while the captain looked on without speaking.

That was how he allowed his bridge to operate and Johan agreed. “I've no idea about that station's total yield since that 'crackle' stuff is highly classified, so I can't honestly say. From the energy output of that drone blowing up, though, I'd imagine that we can. Shields should hold and what gets through should be manageable. Hull ablation should be less than half a meter on the facing side."

“That was an asteroid busting charge, not crackle, lieutenant." The captain pointed out levelly, his lush tail slowly swaying side to side below the hands clasped at the small of his back. During operations the Shepherd was rarely seen in his chair.

“Energy signature was consistent with the stuff the ships were igniting in their thrust contrails, sir. Would've been easier to fab them on the facility than import them."

“Point acknowledged." Bander said with a slight smile and flick of his large, triangular ears. He was a lot different from his father, the captain of Porn Star's Folly, one of their corvettes. The elder Bander was a human, his face scarred and his temper easy to ignite. The son, while not even of the same species, was much more even tempered but just as good a leader if not better than his volatile father.

One had been trained by Alliance private military contractors which were ruthless and fostered that in their soldiers. Until, of course, their soldiers turned on them and rammed one of their vessels into another. The younger Bander had been trained in the fleets of Havron, one of the Eight Worlds, to participate in the Eternal Conflict; war games that had lasted almost a thousand years, completely unknown to the Alliance, its allies, or its enemies.

The Stateroom, one of two heavy infiltration launches kept aboard the super freighter, was a product of the technologies developed for the Eternal Conflict. The extensive modifications to the former Commodore's Choice were similar developments. Of course, on the outside, the freighter looked exactly as it always had… until poked into a fight. Its performance characteristics were far and away superior to current Alliance technology.

“I was taught a poem," Lara said into the silence as everyone watched the freighter and landing craft close on one another. They maintained an open communication channel to Colonel Black, his image shifted to an upper corner of the Display as he waited to learn the fate of his lander and its crew. In space it seemed agonizingly slow but their closing speed was measured in kilometers per second. The Stateroom appeared like a ghost, closing rapidly to slip up alongside the charging Choice. With the port side ablation shield elevated, exposing the cargo pods turned landing bays, it was able to swivel about and reverse into the one designated for it in mere minutes.

The visible damage to it was extensive, much of the external plating along one side and its keel blasted away by the detonating asteroid revealing large swaths of mangled superstructure. Long lines of small, pocked craters revealed where it had been shot at making its escape from the hangar bay, obliterating the comms transmitter. Johan sent a probing thought at the presence normally in the back of his perception but only received silence.

Another long association, silenced, perhaps forever.

Salen.

“I was taught a poem, when I was a pup." Lara said in the lengthy wait, her tongue lolling and her eyes going dull as the air in the reactor control booth got hotter. “Ancient, from Earth. One of the kennel elders taught it to all of us pups in the quiet, when the overseers were gone. She did not know Rukath, she taught us in common." She bowed her head, ears backing as she recalled the memory, panting heavily, her fingers toying with the panel not visible to her audience. “Not long now, Auditor."

Sucking in a long breath, coughing softly, she drew back her lips, pink gums matte and cracked with the lack of moisture.

“Out of the night that embraces me, black as the pit of despair, I thank whatever stars that shine over me, for my unconquerable soul." Johan felt his throat seize immediately and a collective gasp from the crew on the bridge. Seconds later he saw Colonel Black stiffen in his view pane, dark eyes going wide. It was not the official, historic version, altered to suit the moreaus, but its meter and cadence was unmistakable. “In the fell clutch of master cruel, I have not yelped nor bitten nor cried aloud. Under the bludgeonings of chance and whip, my head is bloody, but unbowed." Her eyes seemed to pierce the intervening space, millions of kilometers, and light seconds, to seize Johan's gaze. “Beyond this place of pain and tears, looms but the horror of being culled. And yet the menace of fist, whip, and starvation finds, and shall find me, unafraid!"

A shuffle rustled through the bridge as the crew stood from their stations all around but Johan could not pull his eyes away from the distant, doomed shepherd moreau and her rapturous, toothless smile as she threw back her head to recite the last lines. Beside Johan captain Bander snapped to attention, his arm swinging to snap a sharp salute to his brow. Johan was behind by only a heartbeat and the rest of the bridge raised their hands slower still, each paw or furless hand reaching its brow at exactly the same moment across the entire bridge; the measured final salute of an Honor Guard. In the other pane The Colonel was blinking rapidly, his own hand snapping up to his brow a few seconds delayed.

“It matters not how painful the trial, how charged with punishment the whip, I am the master of MY fate." Lara gasped and held Johan as she paused, and then spoke the final line with a calm reverence. “I am the master of my soul."

Johan held his salute for the full twenty seconds it would take for her to realize the motion and, with a brief sidelong glance, Captain Bander did the same. Someone, some comms tech, had inserted the Final Salute, an evocative brass instrumental solo, into the transmission. In his pane, separated from the choice by long seconds, Colonel Black began to lower his hand and faltered before returning it to his brow. The bridge of the Choice remained on its feet, unmoving, unspeaking, salutes maintained, until Lara blinked and leaned back from her display.

She had witnessed their response, but she had no more tears to shed, a red warning light slowly pulsing against the bulkheads behind her. She leaned forward, fixing Johan with those gentle brown eyes as she smiled, though without showing her dried and cracking gums.

“I would have, you know? I should have, human, with you, scars and all. And, I think… no, I know. I would have enjoyed it."

And then, abruptly, she was gone. Just a brief flicker of orange that created an ink black silhouette and then white before a brief moment of static and then going blank. The proximity plot of the Choice in relation to the Falcon launch expanded to fill the main display, zooming in as they closed. “That was the reactor failing." someone said from below, their voice thick, as the crowd shifted, hands lowering and bodies shifting back into their seats. Ears and whiskers were back, tails low and fur drawn in, a few sniffles here and there, the furtive motions of hands clearing eyes as they returned to their duties.

“Time to recovery?" Jack asked with a soft, rasping growl.