“That and the money, yes,” Inverr agreed. “Now let me work.”

The next several minutes were Inverr showing that, whatever his deficiencies as an XO, he was possibly the best navigator that Gineos had ever seen. The entrance shoal was not retreating linearly from the Tell Me; it appeared to dodge and skip, jumping back and forth, an invisible dancer traceable by the barest of radio frequency hums where the Flow pressed up against time-space. Bernus would track the shoal and call out the latest data; Inverr would make the adjustments and bring the Tell Me inexorably closer to the shoal. It was one of the great acts of space travel, possibly in the history of humanity. Despite everything Gineos felt privileged to be there for it.

“Uuuuuhhh, we have a problem,” Interim Chief Engineer Hybern said, over the communication lines. “We’re at the point where the engines have to start taking energy from other systems.”

“We need push fields,” Gineos said. “Everything else is negotiable.”

“I need navigation,” Inverr said, still not looking up.

“We need push fields and navigation,” Gineos amended. “Everything else is negotiable.”

“How do we feel about life support?” Hybern asked.

“If we don’t do this in the next thirty seconds it won’t matter whether we breathe or don’t,” Inverr said to Gineos.

“Cut everything but navigation and push fields,” Gineos said.

“Copy,” Hybern said, and immediately the air in Tell Me began to feel cooler and more stale.

“Shoal is almost down to two klicks across,” Bernus said.

“It’ll be close,” Inverr agreed. “Fifteen seconds to shoal.”

“One point eight klicks across.”

“We’re fine.”

“One point five klicks across.”

“Bernus, shut the fuck up, please.”

Bernus shut the fuck up. Gineos stood up, adjusted her clothing, and went to stand by her XO.

Inverr counted down the last ten seconds, abandoning the countdown at six to announce he was shaping the space-time bubble, resuming it at three. At zero, Gineos could see from her vantage point behind and just to the side of him that he was smiling.

“We’re in. We’re all in. The whole ship,” he said.

“That was some amazing work, Ollie,” Gineos said.

“Yeah. I think it was. Not to toot my own horn or anything.”

“Go ahead and toot it. The crew is alive because of you.”

“Thank you, Captain,” Inverr said. He turned to face Gineos, still smiling, and that’s when she jammed the barrel of the dart-pusher she’d just retrieved from her boot into the orbit of his left eye and pushed the trigger. The dart unloaded into his eye with a soft pop. Inverr’s other eye looked very surprised, and then Inverr slumped to the ground, dead.