There is a gash in the side of Dicker’s hull. And on the other side of that hole, out in the empty blackness of space, is Jimmy.
Sound returns now. The silence was just a pause in my hearing after an explosion and Jimmy’s voice is in my helmet.
Not dead. Yelling at Valor, who I now realize is hooking a suit tether onto the side of the hull, about to exit the ship and join Jimmy in the deep dark.
“Right there! Right there!” Jimmy is yelling. Pointing a finger to the side of the hull.
“I got it,” Valor says. Calm. Too calm. He points his hands together and dives through the gash, following Jimmy outside.
Luck is floating across the room at the end of a tether. Shaking his head and blinking his eyes, trying to get his bearings just like I was.
We are all alive, that’s all that matters right now. So I unhook myself, reach for a safety tether on my suit and hook on to the nearest eyebolt.
I will not be sucked out of the ship. We have no air in here at all. We are in perfect equilibrium with the vacuum surrounding us. But one small thrust in the wrong direction could send me spinning away. And if you’ve never tried to recover a body-sized object in space—well, it’s a fucking bitch. There is no time to go chasing after anyone.
Valor and Jimmy are obviously dealing with some emergency on the outside of the ship.
“Get it off!” Jimmy is yelling.
“I’m trying,” Valor says, still calm.
I have no idea how Jimmy got outside. Maybe during the initial explosion or maybe he went out there on purpose.
But I don’t bother them. Whatever it is they’re doing, they don’t need my help.
I float up towards Xyla, my tether extending as I get further away from my anchor point.
“What the fuck happened?” I say into my helmet.
She has no helmet, or suit for that matter.
She was made for the vacuum of space and her body is self-contained and sealed. But she has an internal communication system that plugs right into our suits.
“They shot at us the moment we came out of the gate.”
“Who—” But I stop. Because I see who.
A massive Cygnian warship hovers off to the side of Bull Station. Its massive, bird-like form is silver and windowless. Just smooth metal. An aerodynamic design that mimics the wings of a bird diving for prey.
It lights up.
A pink glow surrounds the silver body. And even though I’ve never actually seen a Cygnian warship fire torpedoes, I know this is how it happens.
More than a dozen blue-white streaks leave the ship, arcing out into space as they lock on their targets, and seconds later Bull Station is just… gone.
Debris flies out in all directions, heading straight for Dicker’s hull.
I look over my shoulder and see Valor and Jimmy climbing back inside the blown-out hole.
“Can’t get it!” Jimmy says, his eyes locking on mine as Luck, now fully back from his blackout, pulls him and Valor back into the shelter of Dicker’s dead body as bits and pieces of the station float by outside.
“What the fuck is happening?” I say.
“They locked us with a traction torpedo the moment we exited the gate. And now they’re pulling us in.” Xyla turns her head up to me, her wild, lavender hair swimming around her face, and says, “They’ve caught us. And there’s no way to sever the traction without Dicker’s weapons online.”
“It doesn’t matter,” ALCOR says. Which surprises me. Because I figured he was out of commission with Dicker. “Just shoot me out to that ship, Xyla. And do it now.”
“What?” I say. Because I was obviously out for more than a few seconds and there’s a plan in motion I’m just now catching up to.
“ACLOR is going to infiltrate the warship and take it over.”
“Can you do that?” I ask.
“No one has any idea what I can do,” he says, voice low and calm in my helmet. It’s not his regular voice. No emotion at all. Just… stoic logic. “Not even me.”
A chill shudders up my spine, making all the little hairs on the back of my neck stand up.
“I’m getting an incoming signal,” Xyla says. “From Booty.”
“What the fuck?” I say.
“She’s here,” Xyla says. “With Lyra.”
“No—”
“The warship has locked on to her,” Xyla continues. “But she’s too far away to grab just yet. Torpedoes have launched. Booty has returned fire.”
“Now, Xyla,” ALCOR says.
“On it,” she says. “Valor, release Beauty.”
“What are you doing?” I ask.
But no one answers me. Valor just unhooks Beauty from her safety niche, pats her on her spherical head, and throws her out the gash in the hull.
“Now,” Jimmy says. “All we have to do is live through the next ten minutes until she reaches the warship.”
“Good news,” Xyla says. “The warship is heading towards us, so now we have less than a minute. And Booty is on an intercept course with the warship.”