The legate let out a laugh, and Rhea figured some form of emergency like this must have been common enough. After a short delay came the “Affirmative, Commander. But we have had nothing through our ship’s Oracle to verify.”

“Less chance of interception by Novan rebels. We had a run-in three jumps back that I’ve got to report to the general. If you prepare for us on the bridge, we’ll brief you.”

A long pause. “I don’t have any record of Novan run-ins. Did you not report to the Oracle?”

“Our comms are busted for long-range transmissions. We were hoping to use yours.”

Rhea hissed in a breath.

“Of course, Commander. In Tholos’s name.”

“He knows, or suspects,” Rhea said. The ship was too far away for her abilities to work, but she was well-trained in spotting lies on the faces of men.

“Oh, we’re so burned,” Ariadne said as soon as the call dropped. “They’re trying to send a distress signal. I can block it for now—”

“Fire,” Nyx said, not wasting time.

Clo and Nyx hit Lysicrates with electromagnetic pulses at the same time. The other ship shuddered. The crew tried to return fire, but Ariadne had locked onto their system remotely. She was already opening their outer hatches to the loading docks.

“They’re trying to get around the comms block,” Ariadne warned.

“On it,” Clo said, and she and Nyx fired again.

The Lysicrates shuddered again, drifting in open space. Clo maneuvered Zelus closer, trapping Lysicrates with a tractor beam. It was over so fast, Rhea’s mind was still catching up. They’d all moved together so seamlessly. Ariadne on comms and systems, Nyx and Clo firing in tandem like two hemispheres of the same mind.

“And that’s how you do it,” Nyx said, satisfied.

The crew of Zelus strapped on their weapons and armor and made their way to the shuttle. Rhea’s nerves fluttered. Ariadne would stay on Zelus, but she had given them sleep canisters—a gentler form of what the Oracle had used on Macella—and their group were all fitted with filters. Even if the soldiers were knocked out, there’d be remnants of their emotions floating through the ship like dust motes—the moment their pride turned to fear and shame.

It might not work in time. And if any were still awake, she’d have to influence them into surrendering. Tholosians didn’t give up easily. Death before dishonor was a refrain programmed by the Oracle, words etched into the core of their beings.