“I think we’re clear,” Beaulieu datavised. “Our combat wasps knocked out their combat wasp.”

Joshua reviewed the sensor data, which was calming as the expanding plasma wreathes from the explosions turned to purple then began to decay through the spectrum. Stars began to shine through the squall of enraged ions again. He reduced their acceleration to four gees, and switched course once more.

“We just ditched our softly softly policy,” Sarha grunted.

“Yeah,” Dahybi said. “Whoever possesses that hellhawk knows their tactics. One combat wasp was never going to hurt us. But it made us expose ourselves to the SD network.”

“Not just us,” Beaulieu said.

The sensors were showing them another combat wasp clash developing several hundred kilometres away from Tanjuntic-RI. “Syrinx, where the hell did it go?” Joshua datavised. “Could you get a fix?”

“It swallowed over to the moons,” Syrinx said.

Joshua already had the star system’s almanac file open. He reviewed the data on the twin moons. Airless rocks, three thousand kilometres in diameter. If they hadn’t been orbiting Hesperi-LN they’d be categorised as exceptionally large asteroids. “There’s nothing there for it,” he protested. “The Tyrathca don’t even bother mining them the ore’s so poor.”

“I know. We think it’s just a good location for a tactical withdrawal at this point in time. And it’ll be at least partially shielded from the SD sensors. The Tyrathca probably don’t know it’s here.”

“Great. Did you manage to get the team in?”

“Yes, they’re in. But Oenone is now holding station a hundred kilometres out from Tanjuntic-RI in case the hellhawk tries to swallow in and launch some more combat wasps. The arkship is very fragile, Joshua, it couldn’t withstand a nuclear assault. That leaves us totally exposed. The Tyrathca’s sensors have already locked on to us.”

The flight computer reported that three radars were already focused on Lady Mac ’s hull. “Shit.” Joshua shut down the fusion drives and let the starship coast along. Their trajectory wasn’t taking them anywhere near Tanjuntic-RI anymore. “They’re watching us, too,” he told Syrinx. “Now what?”

“It’s their move. We wait.”

The message came eight minutes later, beamed at both Lady Macbeth and Oenone from one of the low orbit docking stations. “Human craft, you are not permitted here. You have fired weapons above our planet. This is an act of war. Leave now. Do not return.”

“Brief, but not open to much misinterpretation,” Ashly said as the message began to repeat. “I’m surprised they didn’t put in an or else. ”

“They just have,” Beaulieu said. “Three ships on their way to intercept us. One-point-two-gee acceleration.”

“For them, that’s really racing along,” Liol said. “The Tyrathca hate high gees.”

“Another three fusion drive ignitions,” Beaulieu said. “One heading for us. Two aligning on Tanjuntic-RI.”

“At least we’re out of range from the platforms’ combat wasps,” Liol said. “That could have been nasty.”

“What’s your assessment?” Joshua asked Syrinx. He started to run the Tyrathca ship trajectories through some tactical analysis programs. While he was doing it, another two ships ignited their fusion drives and started to fly up on a course for the arkship.

“I think the situation’s still manageable,” she replied. “Providing it doesn’t escalate any further.”

“Yeah. I’m working on that aspect. We’ve got to make sure the team can continue. You’re going to have to stop that hellhawk from coming back to Tanjuntic-RI.”

“We can swallow out to the moons and keep it very busy. But that leaves the team without protection. One of those Tyrathca ships is bound to investigate the arkship. Even with their phlegmatism, they’ll want to know what we’re doing here.”

“Leave it to me. I’ll divert them. You get over to the moons.”

“Acknowledged.” Joshua lifted his head, and smiled round at his crew.

“Oh God,” Sarha moaned with unfeigned consternation. “I hate it when you smile like that!”

“Cheer up. We’re going to invade Hesperi-LN.”

The rotating airlock chamber had survived the spaceport bearing seizure almost intact. Samuel cut through the wall and floated into the big empty space. His helmet lights automatically defocused, throwing their radiance all around him. It was a cylindrical chamber, fifteen metres in diameter, and fifty long; stark even by Tyrathca standards. The walls were lined with a petrified sponge material resembling pumice stone, with thousands of regularly spaced indentations. Each one was just big enough to accept a Tyrathca breeder’s hoof.

There were three airlock hatches at each end, large circular affairs with chunky electromechanical locking rims. Precisely halfway down the chamber was a bulging hoop; the rotating seal to provide the Tyrathca with a pressurized transfer from the arkship to the spaceport. Now, its working fluid had evacuated, internal components were reduced to granular sculptures of their former selves; a technological cave etching.

Renato Vella squirmed into the chamber with jerky motions, knocking large chips of the wall material from the edge of the hole Samuel had cut. “Oh great, late era gloomy,” he pronounced. “They didn’t exactly go in for frills, did they?”

“I doubt a translator could even find an equivalent word,” Samuel datavised back.

The first serjeant was emerging from the hole, fracturing even more wall material as it came. There was an almost identical hole a third of the way round the wall, slightly larger. A matching opening had been made next to one of the airlocks at the ship end of the chamber. Samuel’s gauntlets gripped the indentations in the desiccated sponge fabric, and he moved cautiously hand over hand towards it.

“This must be where the archaeology team cut their way in,” he datavised. “Wait. Yes.” The suit sensors showed him a small plastic box fixed close to the jagged rim by a blob of epoxy, narrow lines of red human lettering covered a third of its dark blue surface. “Some kind of communication block. There are several cables running through the hole.” He ordered his suit communicator to transmit a standard interrogation signal. “No response. I guess the power’s drained by now.”

“Shame,” Renato datavised. “It would have been convenient to have some kind of communication net in there.”

“We could probably power it up again,” Oski replied. “It’s only a century old, the processors will be fully functional.”

“Forget it,” Monica told them. “The bitek processors can keep us in touch with each other and Oenone . We’re not going to be inside long enough to justify getting cosy.”

“We hope,” Samuel said. With the whole team now in the airlock chamber, his helmet lights refocused into wide beams. He grasped the edge of the old hole and pulled himself through.

The archaeology team had cut their way into a broad corridor that served one of the large jammed-up airlocks. It was a simple, square section shaft sliced straight through the rock, with the spongy hoof-grab fabric along the floor, and pipes fastened to both walls. He barely did more than look round, when Syrinx announced the presence of a hellhawk. She gave them a running commentary as the other team members emerged into the corridor.

“The Oenone is swallowing over to the moons to tag the hellhawk,” Syrinx told them. “Lady Macbeth will distract the Tyrathca.”

“For how long?” Monica asked.

“As long as possible,” Joshua replied. “Worst case, we fail completely. Their first ship should reach Tanjuntic-RI in fifty-three minutes—mark.”

“That’s no good. We won’t even have reached the second level by then.”

“I’ll swap with you any time.”

“Sorry, Joshua; that wasn’t a complaint. How did that hellhawk know we were here?”

“Probably followed us from the antimatter station,” Syrinx said. “It wouldn’t be too difficult.”