From the pilot’s seat, Juri Makarov called back, “The crew on Vixen have studied it, Inspector General. The hypothesis is that Freelander leaks light and energy back to whatever universe it was stuck in for those missing hundred and twenty-nine years. Some of us speculate that sometime in the next tens of billions of years, our universe will be completely drained into wherever Freelander passed through on its transition to Donovan. Like having a pinhole puncture in a fuel tank. Leave it long enough, and eventually it’s going to be empty.”

Fenn made a face. It was bad enough having to go there, walk those halls. Feel the ghosts and see that dome of human bones. Last thing he needed to know was that part of him might be leaking away in the process.

Kalico’s words echoed inside his head: “Fenn, I need you to escort the Inspector General to Freelander. You know as much about that ship as anyone. You’re an engineer and a scientist as well as trained in physics. You can explain what happened on Freelander in terms I never could. Make him understand. And, this is critical. The man is a Board Appointed Inspector General. That means you will follow his orders. No matter what they might be. Do you get that? Anything he asks, you will comply.”

Fenn had gritted his teeth and said, “Yes, ma’am.”

But why the hell did it have to be Freelander?

The ghost ship disappeared overhead as Juri Makarov changed the shuttle’s pitch and rolled it onto its back. This was the final approach.

Fenn felt the g-force as Delta V slowed them to match Freelander’s orbit. To Fenn, in his seat, it seemed like it was the ship that lowered itself onto the shuttle. He could see the expanse of hull that appeared like a horizon against the stars, the line of shuttle bays disappearing around the derelict’s curvature. And then the great ship seemed to slip down around them. Dark, threatening, the walls of the shuttle bay barely visible where cables, tubes, and ducting hid in the shadows.

“And . . . full stop,” Makarov called. A clang could be heard, vibrations through the floor. “We have hard dock. Grapples engaged.” A moment later, Makarov added, “We have the lock engaged.” A pause. Then, “Hard seal. Welcome to Freelander, gentlemen.”

That old uncomfortable feeling, like a prickling wave, rolled through Fenn’s body, his vision detecting a shimmer, like a smearing of light, that passed only to leave an indistinct waver in his retinas.

“At your pleasure, Mr. Bogarten,” Soukup said, rising from his chair and tugging his gray jacket down. Doing so pulled the flaring shoulders higher and straight.

Fenn made a face, climbed warily to his feet, and headed for the hatch to the back.

He heard Juri Makarov mutter “Have fun” under his breath.

“Yeah.” Fenn barely mouthed the words. “I’d rather stick my finger in a light socket.”