‘How the hell do you expect us to “finish the job”?’ Martinez demanded. ‘The artefact is gone!’

‘We have the command structure,’ she reminded him. ‘We could activate the artefact ourselves, if Trader fails. And even if he doesn’t, we have enough drones left to let us try and stop him escaping with the artefact.’

‘Perhaps you’re forgetting who’s in charge of this expedition,’ Martinez spat, his face turning red.

Dakota regarded him with a weary expression. ‘You’re out of your depth, Commander. You don’t have any idea about the forces we’re dealing with, or the kind of power they have.’

Martinez started to move towards her with bunched fists, but Corso leaped up and grabbed him by the shoulders.

‘I want you to shut the fuck up for now,’ Corso barked at Dakota, then turned his attention to the Commander.

‘Eduard . . . listen to me. I know exactly what’s going through your head right now. It’s much the same thing that’s running through mine. I don’t want anything more right now than to go home. But I also don’t want to have come this far just to turn around. Especially not if something could still go wrong.’

‘I agree,’ said Lamoureaux, nodding vigorously and gazing around at them all. ‘We can’t just turn around now – not this late in the day.’

‘I’m sorry, sir,’ added Perez, ‘but, with the greatest respect, I’m with the others on this one.’

‘We still have most of the drones,’ Dakota pointed out, sweeping back the dark fringe of hair from her face. ‘And the new field-generators, too. We can do this.’

Martinez stared at her like she was insane. ‘Are you even listening to yourself? You already said the Emissaries know that we’re on our way!’

‘No, they only know where we are right now. And I don’t see any reason to believe they have any idea exactly where we’re headed, or that the Mos Hadroch even exists, let alone what it’s capable of

A sudden alert sounded, an insistent beeping that cut off abruptly when Corso reached out and touched the console nearest him.

‘Scouts,’ he announced a moment later. ‘Lots of them, and about one light-minute away. No details on their acceleration or specific vector, but definitely too close for comfort.’

Martinez tightened his hands again into fists before opening them wide, peering down at them as if seeing them for the first time.

‘I guess that clinches it, then,’ he said, dropping his arms helplessly to his sides. ‘We go on.’

The frigate jumped again less than twenty minutes later, running at approximately 40 per cent jump capacity – just enough to carry them several hundred light-years across the Perseus Arm and into the close vicinity of their target system.

Dakota took the interface chair for the jump procedure, fatigue washing over her like a dark tide.