Dans said, “That’s a magnetar. And I think it’s going to blow.”

Pirius understood none of that. “What difference does that make?”

“Here come the Xeelee,” Cohl snapped.

“Split up,” Dans called.

The greenships peeled away from each other. The single nightfighter, emerging from its own sequence of FTL jumps, seemed to hesitate for a heartbeat, as if wondering which of its soft targets to pursue first.

It turned toward the Claw.

“Lucked out,” Enduring Hope said softly.

“Hold onto your seats,” Pirius said. Lacking any better way to go, he hurled the ship toward the neutron star.

Still the Xeelee followed.

As the Claw squirted across space, Pirius called up a magnified visual. The neutron star was a flattened sphere, brick red, its surface smooth to the limits of the magnification. Blue-white electric storms crackled over its surface.

Cohl said, “That thing is rotating every eight seconds.”

Dans was standing off, Pirius saw from his tactical displays, watching the fleeing Claw and the dark shadow of her pursuer. “Help me out here, Dans,” Pirius muttered.

“I’m with you all the way. When you fly by, take her in as close as you can to the surface of the star.”

“Why?”

“Maybe you can shake off the Xeelee.”

“And maybe we’ll get creamed in the process.”

“There’s always that possibility. . . . The crust is actually solid, you know,” Dans said. “There’s an atmosphere of normal matter, no thicker than your finger. You can get as close as you like. Your shields will protect you from the tides, the radiation flux, the magnetic field. It’s worth a try.”

“OK, guys,” Pirius said to Cohl and Enduring Hope. “You heard Dans. Let’s set a record.”

That won him ribald comments, but he could see that both Cohl and Hope were calling up fresh displays and hunching over their work. For a maneuver like this, all three of them would have to work closely together, with Pirius controlling the line, Cohl monitoring Claw’s altitude over the star’s surface, and Hope watching attitude and the ship’s systems. As they settled to their tasks—and so put aside their Doctrine manuals or illicit prayer beads or whatever else they turned to for comfort—Pirius felt reassured. This was a good crew, at their best when they were committed to what they had been trained to do.

Light flared over his Virtual displays. “Woah . . .”

The star’s surface had changed. Cracks gaped, and a brighter light shone from within. For a few seconds there was turmoil, as the whole surface shattered and melted, and remnant fragments swam. But as suddenly as it had begun, the motion stopped, and the crust coalesced once more, settling down to a new smoothness.

“Dans—what was that?”

“Starquake,” said Dans briskly.

“Maybe it’s time you told me what a magnetar is. . . .”