► Third Recon was one of the Empire’s forward squadrons, loaded heavier than many dedicated combat units because the Third was expected to run into the unknown and unpredictable as a matter of course. Navarch Plotu had seen things in her career that had frozen even her blood, a task few of her peers would have thought possible.

Misrem had looked over the report from Aymes and, despite misgivings about his presence in her squadron, felt that there was a decent chance that he and the fleet lord were correct. Something was very strange about the ship he’d encountered, and those changes in design could be explained quite neatly if they assumed that the anomaly had somehow teamed up with the Oathers.

Analysts were in a state of disbelief. In order for the anomalous vessel to exist, the unknown species and the Oathers would have had to agree to a frankly preposterous level of technology sharing.

The only other possibility was that the Oathers had somehow been conquered in the short time that had passed since the last Imperial reconnaissance of their systems, and that was impossible from a tactical point of view. More likely, two entirely different species had somehow lost their abyss-emptied minds and handed highly secret military technology to one another.

The analysts didn’t think either was possible, but Misrem wasn’t so certain. There was one factor that they were all forgetting, a very large one that might lead to an act of desperation.

The Drasin.

She hadn’t been willing to voice that theory to the fleet lord or the senate representative when she was assigned this mission, and for similar reasons she had no intention of even hinting that she thought Aymes might be less than insane and incompetent. Without evidence, voicing her pet theory would be akin to criticizing the senate decision to deploy the Drasin in the first place.

She was a minor noble, and Misrem was under no delusions that her status could withstand the level of response that move would bring down on her head.

“Hirau . . .” She walked over to her flag captain. “Does the squadron stand ready?”

“Awaiting your command, My Lady.”

She nodded, having expected no less.

“Very good. Then bring us out.”

“Destination, My Lady?” Hirau asked, signaling his helm controller and subaltern to issue the preparatory orders.

“We’ll take Captain Aymes’ advice,” she said simply. “Put us on a track to approach the first Drasin target. We will repeat his original task vector.”

Hirau issued the orders before turning back. “Permission to query the navarch, My Lady . . .”

“You want to know if I believe them,” she said with a faint smile, “or if I’m giving the captain a charge or two in the hopes that he’ll shoot himself and rid me of his presence?”

“The thought had crossed my mind, My Lady . . . and . . . more along similar lines.”