And now she watched Pirius, Dans, and their crews as they strove to evade their Xeelee pursuers. The incident, brought to her attention by patient semisentient monitors, unfolded in a Virtual image, a searing bright slice of Galaxy center light, here on the rim of Sol system.
Faya, her cousin, was with her. “They’re lost,” Faya sighed.
“Perhaps,” Luru said. “But if they find a way to live through this, or even if not, they might discover something useful for the future.”
“There is always that.”
“Watch…”
The tiny, remote drama unfolded.
Chapter 3
Aboard the Claw, a strange calm settled. The loops were all but silent now, save for the ragged breathing of Pirius’s crew. But behind them, that black cloud of Xeelee ships closed relentlessly.
Another ship came alongside the Claw. It had taken a lot of damage. One strut had been crudely amputated, and a second blister looked cloudy; but the pilot’s blister was a bright spark of light. Pirius looked back, but nobody else followed: just the two of them.
Pirius recognized the other’s sigil. “Dans?”
“Large as life, Pirius.”
“I recognized your lousy piloting.”
“Yeah, yeah. So why aren’t you dead yet?”
“Shut up.” It was Cohl. “Shut up.”
“Navigator, take it easy.”
“Do we have to endure this garbage, today of all days?”
“Today of all days we need it,” Enduring Hope said.
Pirius said, “Dans, your crew—”
“I’m on my own,” Dans said grimly. “But I’m still flying. So. Every day you learn something new, right? Those Xeelee always have something up their sleeves. If they have sleeves.”
“Yes. In retrospect it’s an obvious tactic.”
So it was. The Xeelee’s usual approach was to swathe a Rock with fire, trying to scour out the trenches and get to the monopole cannons, all the time harassed by greenships and other defensive forces.