It wasn’t fair to take out his building frustration on anyone else, so he took it out on his work. Another three coolant fixes and they were through the worst. Surit had done this kind of thing on his last ship, because retrieval units weren’t big enough that they could afford for the officer not to pitch in, but he’d never seen an engine fault this bad.

“Fractal Note is calling in shuttles, sir.”

Surit straightened. That meant conditions were stable enough that the Fractal Note no longer needed the extra maneuverability. They could limp back to get their repairs and code patch. He said into his wristband, “Approve return.”

He emerged from the engine niche into the operations room just in time to catch the moment they landed. One of the screens showed the open maw of the mothership as the Retrieval Two shuttle coasted up and clicked into its berth. A shudder ran through the flooring.

They were safe for now. The fleet had come to a halt to regroup and reorganize. It sat in a pocket of stable space while around it, like honeycombs, the clouds of chaotic space drifted, combining and recombining to create an unmappable maze of tunnels. Surit glanced at the main screen as he made his way back through the ops room.

Had Marit Yeni navigated the same space? It hadn’t been so dangerous back then: chaotic space had grown in the two decades since. The laboratory-station had been on the edge of the disturbance, like a fortress surrounded by a moat, until Marit had tried to seize it and it had been blown apart in the fight. Surit had always known it was part of her plan to seize power, some vague connection to the neuromodification research they’d done there, but now he knew the exact reason. Marit must have been after the remnants.

What were you thinking, Marit? Why did you do it?

“Rotate crew out to eat and rest,” he said. “I’ll need everyone with maintenance ratings back for a late shift.”

“What about us?” a voice drawled from the ops room door. Tennal was between the two pilots and leaning on Private Istara’s shoulder reluctantly, as if he’d previously lost an argument with both Istara and his own legs. He looked like a garbage dispenser had just spat him back out.

“Pilots, double break shift,” Surit said. “Private Halkana, go to Medical.”

Tennal gave him an incredulous look through what Surit guessed was a migraine. “You think a random medic can fix a reader?”