Through the window, I could see the bridge crew donning ear protection. Twenty seconds later, the door swung inward. I used aeromancy to summon a gust of wind strong enough to wrench it open and hold it while Deb slipped inside.

This bridge was far more cramped than anything I’d seen on Star Trek. I counted nine people crowded together, most of them working over somewhat outdated-looking control panels. Thick cables were strung along the ceiling.

Heavy foam panels had been added to every surface, presumably for increased soundproofing. Additional panes of glass were welded into place over the windows.

I’d have recognized the commanding officer even if he hadn’t been sitting in the captain’s chair. The thick-shouldered, balding man made me think of a gargoyle, calm as stone as he observed everything happening around him. According to the reports Talulah had dug up, this was Commander Jeffrey Hill. He’d taken command of the Kagan two months ago.

Deb homed in on Commander Hill. I relaxed the wind and allowed the struggling crewman to drag the door shut.

Within three minutes, it opened again. Commander Hill stepped out, followed closely by Deb. Her magic tangled his thoughts, guiding him toward the CIC. Several people watched him leave, their expressions ranging from concern to confusion, but none tried to intervene.

Why struggle to hack locks and computers when you could hack the man in charge? Hill led us deeper into the ship, down another flight of steps, and through a heavy, narrow doorway. I barely noticed whatever it was he did to gain access through the next door. My attention had been caught by the sidearm secured to his hip.

That was no standard-issue military weapon. It was a JG-367 handgun, invented by Johannes Gutenberg shortly before his death. The titanium “barrel” was a solid wand. In addition to firing blasts of deadly energy, it could put targets to sleep, transform them, petrify them either temporarily or permanently, and more. The grip used a built-in telepathic interface, allowing the owner to switch modes at will.

We had field agents around the globe working to keep weapons like this out of mundane hands. How the hell had the Coast Guard gotten hold of one? The only place you could get a JG-367 was from the pages of a book by Stuart Pan. Gutenberg and the Porters had slipped several paragraphs into the final manuscript of his last bestseller, meaning any libriomancer—and nobody but a libriomancer—could use the book to create the gun.

It was possible Commander Hill had gotten it through the magical black market. I’d gone that route once or twice myself in the past. But given their knowledge of siren migration routes and their preparation against the vampires, it was more and more likely they were working with someone from the Porters.