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An exit from the mirror universe, a big reveal, and Some Fun Happens.

The last episode to take place in the mirror universe that has occupied this season. It's partly plot development, I'm afraid, but there is some surprisingly important smut hidden here too. And some fairly large developments, which I hope you enjoy! Patreon subscribers, this should also be live for you with notes and maps and stuff.

Released under the Creative Commons BY-NC-SA license. Share, modify, and redistribute--as long as it's attributed and noncommercial, anything goes.

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Tales of the Dark Horse, by Rob Baird

S6E4, "The Wardrobe"

Stardate 67448

"Admiral Timea doesn't seem very happy," Hatfield began. "Even with evidence of co-conspirators aboard those so-called 'freighters,' they're going to file some damned protest or another. She doesn't appreciate being made to look like a fool. To look weak. Neither do I."

"Of course not, ma'am. Nobody should have such a misleading impression of you."

"Nice save." Captain Hatfield snorted, the derision in her voice obvious. "So, then. What are you going to do?"

"About?" the coyote asked. "About finding the Dark Horse, you mean?"

Hatfield leaned back in her chair, fingers templed, staring up at the ceiling. "Maybe it's time to try the carrot again. Maybe we can prove that we can help this one get back to where she belongs." She jerked her thumb towards Maddy at 'this one.' "Maybe she'd be less obstinate. What do you think?"

"How would you prove that, ma'am?"

"The research center. We take her to Ankiyana, and we let her talk to the researchers. They'll find an answer. Something that will let her return to her own universe. And we can find some sort of... suitable trade."

The coyote's ears twitched. May thought he was choosing his words carefully. "Have you, ah... spoken to the team at Ankiyana about this?"

"What do you think? Idiot," the doe said, scowling. "Alright. You're going to do it. Take the shuttle, and don't come back until you two have a plan. You're going to figure out how to get that ship back where it belongs."

"I'm not really--"

He jolted, and by Hatfield's smirk May figured she must've cut the coyote off by triggering his compliance bracelet. "Find a way. Let's be honest, Jonathan. You don't have the friends to keep fucking up. Get it done."

Twitching, he forced himself to steady his voice. "Yes, ma'am."

***

So it was that, with her Star Patrol uniform as baggage, she found herself bundled onto 'the shuttle' having barely had the chance to gather her thoughts. Immediately, she discovered new questions: "What is this ship? The inside looks like your technology, but the lines are... unique."

"It's equipped with a blinkdrive. We don't know how to build them. Nobody does. The hulls were centuries-old when we found them. But we've at least reverse-engineered how to use the drive. Instantaneous travel between known points."

"You don't know where they came from?" She was curious to see if he knew of the Hano, or their Wanesh descendants. Or, indeed, that he suspected she knew anything. The coyote shook his head. "It seems like it could be very useful technology."

"It is. For couriers and secret missions like this."

The Akita considered how to balance what he'd told her: that they used the ships, but had no idea how to make them. "It must be a scarce resource. I imagine you lose them sometimes. Your government is already stretched thin trying to communicate with and police its colonies..."

"Yes," the coyote acknowledged. "Not every ship has one of these shuttles."

She thought of how her own crew had used the Tempest, with its own unique hyperdrive--not just for reconnaissance, but as a secure courier, carrying messages that couldn't be trusted to the subspace network. A paranoid military state seemed like a good fit for such things.

Commander Ford at least knew how to program it; ten minutes after they departed the Agamemnon the world around them flickered, and then reappeared in a new and rather more dramatic configuration.

"What's that?"

In front of them was an asteroid, although its surface was studded with lights and activity buzzed about its periphery. "Welcome to the Ankiyana Special Projects Center. We're being scanned now..." He pointed to a flashing warning on the instrument panel. "If they don't like us, they shoot."

"And if they do?"

"Shoot? We're dead. You won't have time to notice."

"If they like us."

"Then we'll be allowed through the station's energy shield. This facility is highly classified. It's radio silent. The only way in or out is through the shield. And... there. My security codes were approved."

"No being shot at?"

"No. Now we just have to wait."

"How long?"

"Two hours. The shield opens on a regular cycle. Next window is in two hours."

"And until then?"

"I don't know. Smalltalk." There didn't seem to be anything else to do in the shuttlepod; a small closet built into the rear hatch seemed to be the only unused storage space, and it had just barely fit the Star Patrol uniform Hatfield ordered her to bring along. There was a water dispenser, but no shower or toilet; a few protein bars, but no proper galley.

"Smalltalk," she echoed. Did she have enough time to put a new plan into action? The Akita decided there was only one way to find out. "Here's a question. Why did you turn down my compliance device? You didn't have to."

He shrugged. "Sometimes the carrot is more useful than the stick. Captain Hatfield just likes using the stick more. I think it might get us into trouble. Maybe you would've helped us, you know? Without the threats or the bracelet."

"It wasn't so that I'd owe you a favor in return?" The Akita was beginning to develop her hunch about the coyote into something more useful. Many of the Agamemnon's crew seemed brutal and quick to violence--she was sure he'd probably committed his share of such infractions. But Ford seemed to have some moral center, at least.

"No. I don't know what favor I'd ask from you. You know, to be honest... I don't believe we're really going to get much from Ankiyana. What can they tell us? What can your ship do for us? Just kind of.... humoring my captain, though."

With the bracelet mostly disabled, the thought had occurred to her that she could overpower the coyote, and force him to change course. But that was definitely a gamble, and he'd been oversharing... so, instead, she laughed. "Oh, I suppose. I figured you could find some favor to ask of me. There's always something."

His shadowy ears perked, and he seemed to have cottoned on to her meaning. "I wasn't going to demand a prisoner get me off just because I stopped torturing her."

May laughed again: relaxing; shrugging lightly. "Well. I do owe you."

Jack's eyes narrowed. "Are you serious?"

"How long do we have again?"

"You didn't answer me." He repeated the question, although it faltered under the look she was giving him. "Are you serious? Uh. Seventy-six minutes until the next landing window."

Maddy slipped the harness from her shoulders, and settled fluidly from the jumpseat to her knees in front of the coyote. She peered up at him, watching the way his eyes took her in--seeing him caught between wondering if something was afoot and wondering what would happen if he played along. "Your captain must assume, anyway..."

"I don't know what she assumes."

She let her finger wander from his knee along the coyote's thigh, as if she, too, were still considering what to do. "She seems like that type. It's up to you, but... we do have the time..."

And he was still a coyote. Ford adjusted his stance spreading his legs a little wider to bring the Akita closer. He didn't stop her when she went for the clasp that secured his belt, or when she pulled his pants open. Perhaps two centimeters of bare flesh were already poking from his sheath, and he definitely didn't stop her when she brushed over him with the backs of her fingers.

Her experience wasn't terribly current--one of the drawbacks of being in command of a long-term deep-space voyage. Fortunately, teasing the coyote didn't present much of a difficulty. Just the act of stroking him, leaning closer until her breath washed over his crotch, had him swelling in front of her.

She had yet to decide how far she would allow the situation to proceed. She'd have to give him something, after all. It could remain entirely transactional, if she wanted. On the other hand, she didn't have to ignore the way the male's scent twinged and prickled nerves she rarely got the chance to feel.

Jack gasped when she tasted him for the first time, lapping over his half-erect shaft. His breathing grew shallow as she coaxed him stiff with her tongue, bathing every bit of the coyote's exposed cock, from the tip down to the curve where his knot would eventually form. Not bad, she thought. Solidly endowed.

Whatever. Might as well enjoy yourself. She took him into her muzzle, slowly, making every dragging lick count. Rocking the first few centimeters of the coyote between her lips, and beginning to suckle until he finally rewarded her with a gentle buck and a throb that pulsed new, salty heat into her mouth.

She wouldn't have described herself as especially skilled--not something they taught at the Academy, certainly, and nothing she'd picked up as a hobby. It was still nice to feel that she was doing something right. Glancing upward, she saw that his eyes were closed, and his muzzle opened in a hoarse moan as she sank down to take as much of his length as she dared.

The Akita sucked him firmly, steadily, until he was panting heavily and she felt reasonably certain he might be willing to do whatever she wanted just to keep her going. Or maybe he'll snap out of it, and you'll miss your chance. Maddy weighed her options, slipped her muzzle free of the throbbing canine shaft, and gave it a final lick. "This is a, uh... it's a short-range ship, right?"

He looked at her, charmingly baffled. "What?"

"So it doesn't have a bunk, is my point."

Jack shook his head, lifting his paw to point at the shuttle's rear hatch. "Folds down," he muttered. "The handle..."

"Show me?"

She rocked back on her heels and stood. The coyote didn't bother refastening his pants, although he was unsteady enough on his feet anyway when he made his way past her and twisted a handle on the hatch. Thin, flexible material unrolled from it like a carpet, snapping into place a half-meter over the deck.

It was only a few millimeters thick, but rigid and unyielding when she tested it with her paw; the top surface inflated with a hiss a moment later. "Oh. Well, that's a nice trick!" And not uncomfortable, either: it wouldn't have passed muster in any luxury hotel but, sitting on the edge of it, the ersatz cot wasn't that much worse than the bunks on her own cruiser.

And it supported the both of them admirably. Maddy slipped from the simple outfit she'd been given--she'd have to change into her Star Patrol attire before meeting the scientists anyway, the Akita reasoned--and scooted back to make room for the coyote. He followed, tearing off his own uniform eagerly.

She only caught the briefest glimpse of him, but it was enough. Her Jack was married: he had a ring, anyhow, and she'd heard him mention his wife. She also guessed they had something of an open relationship, because the coyote had definitely made first contact with one of their Uxzu allies--details of that encounter had filtered back into diplomatic channels.

Maddy had shrugged her shoulders at Felicia Beltran's mild protest about the lack of decorum. It hadn't hurt relations with the Uxzu Dominion: if anything it elevated the Star Patrol's stature. Inwardly, she'd grinned at the time. Now, though, the coyote's double was positioned over her, and she felt Jack guiding himself into place.

And then she felt the slick, firm pressure of his entry: heat, sliding into her, deeper and deeper and--deeper, oh fuck, she knew why the Dominion figured it was worth a diplomatic cable--she was gripping his shoulders tensely--gasping at just how thoroughly she'd been taken--

He stopped. Hilted. The coyote's eyes were slitted, and in the steady, rolling grind that followed his first thrust to tug and shift the cock buried solidly inside her Maddy sensed that he might not have had quite so many opportunities to sate himself as her own Jack Ford managed.

But if he was already worked up, at least he kept enough of his composure about him. The shadowy canine pulled back; thrust a second time, and started pumping his hips in a slow, steady rhythm. By the fourth or fifth, when she'd gotten used to the shock of having him fill her, Maddy heard herself gasping with the slowly building pleasure.

He bucked faster, growing more sure of himself--she was briefly driven back to the consuming thought that there was so much of him, that he was so achingly deep in her--and by the time that, too, broke her gasps had turned to open, wanton moans.

She meant to maintain some sense of control of the situation. As if she wasn't just letting him fuck her--she was a Star Patrol captain, after all, and practically his prisoner at that! But his tense, ramming thrusts felt unbearably exquisite; she wrapped her arms around his dark-furred back, and spread her legs wider to spur him on.

Jack voiced his own satisfaction in coarse huffs and groans as he pumped himself between her parted thighs, driving that long, glorious cock all the way in over and over. She felt him throbbing, twitching in her cunt, the faint slick wetness growing more unmistakeable the same way it took him more effort to force the base of his length inside.

It struck her that, if she'd intended to take advantage of his desires for her own purposes, the Akita would have plenty of opportunity to do so with the coyote tied to her and unable to go anywhere. He'd be distracted, after all... eyes sightless, ears back with that look of carnal triumph as he spilled his cum in her... thinking only of the bitch he had, pinned and utterly claimed, under him... using you for his own satisfaction... filling you up--

And. Also, it struck her that she had not been properly tied for years. Dave was too invested in maintaining some sense decorum, and Sabel Thorsen didn't seem interested. So what was the harm? She missed it. And she knew Jack wouldn't take much convincing.

Hooking one leg around him at the deepest part of his next thrust did most of the trick. She tugged when he pulled back, arching her hips to grind against his swelling knot, and the coyote sucked his breath in, groaning hotly. "Madison..."

It was a warning. She tugged again. The other dog grunted, sinking forward and into her fully. His next attempt at withdrawing was more fitful. He knew too much to try a third time. Even if he might've succeeded, and that was doubtful--even the effort sent twinging shocks right at the strained edge of pleasurable through the Akita.

He settled for short, hard thrusts, until they both knew he was tied--his cock was barely even moving no matter how heavily he bucked. Maddy found herself squeezing involuntarily on the thick bulge trapped in her. He was stuck good, and with his movements becoming increasingly frantic she decided she could enjoy the finish.

Not that it was much of a decision. She couldn't think of anything but the finish, now, hammering into her subconscious like the end of a siege she didn't even know she was fighting. Surrender came quick and easy: her head rolled back, and her eyes shut as sparks painted themselves against her darkened vision.

She hadn't been without recourse on her ship, but fuck there was nothing like getting off with another dog. Pleasure gripped her, tightened her muscles--forced the breath from her in gasping yelps. And no matter what he was still in her, that knot shoving a fresh wave of ecstasy into her thoughts with every squirming convulsion.

Then she felt teeth on her shoulder. Unsteady, and quivering, as the coyote bucked hard and halted. Drew back. Did it again, shuddering, and when he slammed forward a third time Jack bit down properly and as the sharp pressure of it counterpointed her climax she knew what was coming next.

He groaned, pulsing hard in her to herald the spray of warmth that followed. The coyote was all but motionless for the first few spasms. Then he let her shoulder go, growling unevenly next to her ear as he rocked with short, forceful thrusts to pump her cunt with a steady flow of coyote seed.

Maddy was still right up at the edge; she let him take her back over, crying out in bliss along with the coyote. Her paws dropped to his rump, squeezing him as his muscles flexed and he pushed rhythmically until he was done emptying himself, and her own peak faded.

Then he collapsed heavily on her, muttering in guttural oaths. Judging by their tone, she'd done well. The Akita smiled inwardly, gathered the coyote in her arms, and worked her fingers through the fur of his back. "Mm. Been awhile?"

"A little," he admitted. "I really wasn't planning on... taking advantage of... well..."

"Who 'took advantage' of whom?" she snickered.

"True."

"Before now, anyway."

"Huh?"

"You're a schemer, right?"

Now the coyote shifted uncomfortably, and his ears swiveled back. "What do you mean?"

"Hatfield isn't exactly making friends. Somebody's going to wind up being blamed, right?" The Akita had enjoyed their encounter--if nothing else, it was good to be tied--but she was also not above using Ford for her own ends. Not above wriggling back, putting her nose at his and watching how the teasing pressure on his knot sapped his concentration. "I'll bet she won't want it to be her."

"No... of course not."

"So. It seems to me that we could find another mutually agreeable outcome."

His ear gave the faintest little twitch. "What do you mean?" he asked again, although he was paying closer attention to her. Close, she thought, as if his interest was not merely personal.

This wasn't terribly surprising. "You know, it might be that you turned off my compliance device out of the goodness of your heart. It might be that somebody asked you to, though, right? So you could get close to me... win my trust..." She trailed off, and when he didn't react she squeezed him again, and repeated the question: "Right?"

"I can't speculate on, uh. On hypotheticals that exist in your head, captain."

"Mm-hm." She toyed with his ear thoughtfully; it stayed pinned. "You might've suggested to me that visiting Ankiyana would be a good idea, so that when Captain Hatfield proposed it, I'd go along rather than being stubborn. I'm not sure what you'll get out of me here. I mean... I know what you put into me, but... what do they really do here?"

"Research. I don't really know the details."

"Do you think I'll be able to help Dr. Cissonius? I'm not a physicist or an engineer. All I can do is let him convince me that the Dark Horse should help his research. Hatfield must believe he'll be... persuasive. Do you?"

"I think you genuinely want..." he shuddered at her touch, and the all-but-subconscious pressure of her hips, pushing closer. "Uh. I--you want to go home. If he can help--stop that!"

"No." She smiled, and tugged the coyote in with the leg she still had wrapped about him. "Hatfield must also believe that you're trustworthy. I think you have told me the truth--sometimes. You're smart enough to question her methods. You should be smart enough to realize that if this goes south, it'll be on you."

Silence. A genuine, pensive look crossed his face--subtle, but not impossible to see. The Akita still couldn't convince him to abscond with her, she felt. But there was some opening, and as a reward she relaxed, easing the pressure on his still-buried knot.

"Here's all I'm asking, Jack. I'll talk to the team here. But, whether you were telling me what I wanted to hear or not, you do know we're both at risk from Hatfield. All I'm asking is that, when I'm done listening to Dr. Cissonius, you listen to me about what happens."

"Sure."

"No, no. You listen to me, Jack. For yourself, not for Theresa. You are enough of a schemer to know it's a good idea. Keep that in mind."

And she had a pretty good sense that he would do just that.

***

Ankiyana looked like a Star Patrol research facility, full of large screens and computers humming away at some complicated problem or another. The scientists looked like they could've come from any other station, although they were only Terran--no Nizari, no Dereans, and certainly nobody from the worlds the Union must've conquered.

The guards, though: these were definitely unfamiliar, heavily armed, and brusque. Ford was not permitted to accompany her. She was guided, through the complex, to what appeared to be an empty office, pointed at a seat, and told to wait.

I wish... who did she wish had been there with her? Dave, probably, although he would've had questions about what she'd gotten up to with the coyote. Beltran. She'd know what to do, I bet. What would Beltran have been observing?

Maddy's ear twitched. She was wearing her Star Patrol uniform, and neither the guards nor the other scientists had batted an eye at her passing. There were no other military powers for the Union to be allied with; they must've recognized who she was. That was interesting, wasn't it?

That's not what Beltran would be observing, she thought. Beltran would take one look around the office and say something like: "the layout of the display is strongly hierarchical. Combined with their choice of information, it suggests a culture that highly prioritizes martial attributes." God, I miss that spotted weirdo.

I miss all of them.

She didn't notice anything about the office. There was a desk, with a computer display embedded in it. On the far wall there was some kind of locker, or a wardrobe perhaps--the glass was frosted, but she dimly perceived a suit of armor behind it. An Ulvar unit, like Sabel? In case it was needed to protect the scientist?

Besides the computer, the desk was adorned with only a small model ship. The design seemed familiar to her, at least vaguely. She reached over to pick it up. "No. Don't touch that." The voice had come from inside the room; the closet door slid open, and the suit of armor stepped free. "Have you no patience?"

"Dr. Cissonius, I presume?"

She could only see his eyes, behind the visor of the suit, and a bit of the greying fur around them. It was not armor--some kind of exposure suit, and flexible enough that he could, at least, shake her hand. "Captain Madison May, of the Star Patrol."

"Yes, that's right. Can you, uh..." She pantomimed taking the helmet off.

"The atmosphere here is toxic to those from our universe. I haven't adapted. I don't intend to risk it, either, not when my goal is so close at hand. The suit stays on."

May brushed her own bare muzzle. "I appreciate the concern for my own health, for the record. So. You're... Julian Cissonius. You were a scientist in, ah, 'our universe'?"

"Yes. Before being stranded here, I was a propulsion specialist at RC Leonardo. You want to get back, don't you? So do I. That's where you come in. Your ship--does it have a navigational repulsor array?"

"Yes."

He nodded. "I thought so. So did mine. The combination of the ship's reactor and the repulsor unit are what generated your unique aperture. A perfect storm of different factors--but I could recreate them. That's the only missing piece, now. You're the only missing piece now."

It occurred to May that anyone capable of surviving in the Union had probably managed to suppress their altruistic tendencies. "What would you need?"

"Your ship, specifically. Technology built in our universe, with its distinctive characteristics. I can't replicate them here. If you can bring your ship to Ankiyana, we can find a way to get us both home."

"What if I could find a way to get you aboard my ship without bringing it here?" If Jonathan Ford could be trusted, that seemed like a much safer option. "We could figure something out, right, and--"

"I'd need my team here. Their equipment, their expertise..."

"I'm not comfortable putting a Star Patrol warship in the Union's hands, doctor. There has to be some kind of other way."

"And what if there wasn't? I've lived here too long. We both have. Did your captors tell you that?"

"No. What do you mean?"

It was impossible to read the man's facial expression. She did, though, hear a bitter laugh. "When the ends of the aperture connecting our universes drift, the path connecting them experiences a distortion of time. I'd have to study it in more detail, but if you've been in this universe for days, when you cross back over, you'll find you've been gone for anywhere from seconds to years."

Her heart dropped. "That's a pretty big range."

"Yes. It is. There are, of course, options." He tapped at the computer on his desk, bringing up a map of the galaxy, and equations she was nowhere near equipped to recognize. "These are all the records that remain of the event that brought me here. There's a four-dimensional rotation in the aperture, as you can see. The energy components are high, but not insurmountable. It could be stabilized."

"Meaning?"

"Meaning that getting between the two wouldn't involve a temporal gap. It would happen instantaneously. Or I could create an entirely new aperture. But, I'd need time. I could ensure you and your crew were well-treated. Right now, you're basically criminals. Here, you'd be guests. Invaluable guests."

"If you succeeded, though... if you figured out a way to travel between the two dimensions regularly... what's to stop someone from doing that at their will, after we've made it back? That seems almost worse."

"You think the Union might... invade?"

"They might. If they could."

She did not like the way his eyes narrowed. She could almost see Julian's grin. "What did I say, when I called you 'invaluable'? Suppose they did? We would be the key to those gateways, Madison. We would have incredible power--on either side. If you're worried about what the Union might do, you could help direct it. Help lead it."

"You sound like Captain Hatfield."

"She's ambitious, but short-sighted. Don't think I misunderstand the potential of my work. It's been an investment. Every day I've woken up in this miserable place, working by myself with the atmosphere they're able to recycle so it doesn't destroy me from the inside out... every meeting I've taken in this suit when I have to tour the rest of the station... every nutritional supplement I've had to consume instead of eating real food..."

"You've promised them you could get them to the other side," she realized aloud. "But they wouldn't be able to survive in our universe, either."

"It's not that simple. I have reason to believe it's not as harmful, the other way around. So far, they've accepted those reasons. They've continued to fund my work. Given me the broad leeway I enjoy to find... unconventional partners."

Maddy stayed quiet; thoughtful. "I would need guarantees. About my ship and crew, but..." She decided to push. "Who would own any profit from the research? You? Me?"

"You could have whatever you wanted," he promised. "A fraction of a percent would be more than you could ever spend. Unless you, too, have ambitions--then... fifteen percent?"

"Twenty-five."

"Perhaps," he said. "I'd need to talk to my superiors. But it would be worth it... I think they'll agree. You... I looked up your records. They don't understand the... poetry that I do."

"Meaning..."

"They'll do the same thing: draw a mistaken conclusion about how threatening you are. In this universe, you captained a garbage scow. Died unceremoniously in an accident. How fitting would it be if they came to know you as a conquerer, instead? I see that in you. I know you could be a threat."

"Or a valuable partner?"

"Yes. Oh, yes. You see things the same way I do, captain. We're more like them than we might want to admit."

He's gone mad. She didn't know when, or how, but the Akita was certain of her conclusion. He had been on his own so long that he'd forgotten how the Star Patrol worked--forgotten that they were often ineffective, but never so corrupt. So willing to betray their ideals. "What do I say to convince my crew to go along with this?"

"Whatever it takes. They could be heroes here. Or--or tell them that they're going home. They can see Terra again. They'll like that. Won't they?"

They were on a mission of exploration. Somehow Dr. Cissonius had forgotten that, too--the Rewa-Tahi sector was Union space, after all. Terra held no particular draw. "They would, yes."

"And you don't even need all of them. The engineers are the only ones you have to convince, and even then... I can find my away around a reactor."

"Don't hurt them. I need that as a promise."

"Yes. Certainly, captain. They won't be harmed, if you don't want it."

The conditional gave her pause, and then an opening. "And if I were to go along with you--I'll need to do some persuading, you know--there is one last thing. Something your 'superiors' can help with."

"Yes?"

"Hatfield." She held up her arm, tugging the sleeve of her uniform back so he could see the bracelet. "Hatfield needs to be dealt with."

She saw his eyes narrow, the pupils stark vertical slits. The edges turned, speaking to the fanged grin hidden by his helmet. "Let us discuss our options."

***

"Contact! Eighteen hundred kilometers off our stern and closing."

Dave felt the same immediate jolt of adrenaline that had tinged the Ethiopian wolf's report. "Action stations! Crew and consoles to State Red; helm, take us about. How did we not notice them?"

Siraj Ahmed was trying to figure that out, himself. "There's no hyperdrive signature, sir. I think--uh, we're being hailed." He'd already figured out that the new ship was using something suspiciously like Hano technology, but that curiosity was immediately replaced by the one the incoming message engendered.

"Who is it?"

"Still trying to sync up with their comms protocols, sir. But... they're using Star Patrol authentication codes."

"Maddy? Put it through."

It was, indeed, Captain May. "Dave! You're a sight for sore eyes. Voice for sore ears? Whatever. Sorry for the abrupt appearance--it seems like they've found some old jumpdrives. I can explain more, but I'm requesting permission to come aboard. Me and, uh, Commander Ford. He helped me escape."

Leon briefly muted the transmission. "Sir, if I might raise an objection? How did they find us?"

"Good point." On the other hand, it was good to hear Maddy's voice. Bradley switched their mic back on. "Do you mind if I ask how you happened to find us?"

"Commander Ford has some contacts with the resistance. We jumped to the base in the... Amati System, is that it? Yes. And they were able to point us in your direction. You should be able to confirm that with them, if you have a good comm link."

There was, at least, a base in that system, according to Leon's charts. "I guess that's plausible enough, sir. If Commander Ford can be trusted..."

Of course, Dave had no way of evaluating that. If they couldn't trust Captain May, though, they had much bigger problems to deal with. "You're cleared to approach, captain. God, it's good to hear from you, too." He closed the channel, decided some caution would befit him, and turned to the tactical console. "Lieutenant Bader, get a detail together and meet us in the shuttlebay."

"Yes, sir. Right away."

The team was Leon, Sabel Thorsen, and Jack Ford--the pilot was a good marksman, and stepped in to assist when needed. As a coyote, he was also willing to adapt to strange circumstances, and he didn't bat an eye when Dave explained the guest May was bringing along.

And it was, as promised, only the two of them. Maddy wasn't surprised to see the armed team waiting for her; she gave her second in command a brief grin, anyway. "Wanted to be sure it was really me, eh? I don't blame you, Dave. We need to talk. Is the ship ready for combat?"

"Yes."

"Ensign..." She cocked her head at the shepherd's rank insignia. "Well, alright. Lieutenant, then. I'm assuming you have a plan for taking down the Agamemnon. At least one? Maybe several?"

"Several, ma'am," the shepherd confirmed.

"Knew I could count on you, Leon." The beam of pride was unrehearsed but very genuine--for both of them. "Captain Ford, what about the Tempest? Is she ready, too?"

Munro had been making regular updates to the cloaking device as they learned more and more about the Union's technology. The coyote nodded. "Yes, ma'am."

His counterpart blinked, and spoke out of turn. "Captain Ford? You're the same rank?"

"Formerly commander of an auxiliary group on a larger ship," Jack explained. "Before I made the good decision to transfer here."

The other coyote looked between Jack and the Akita. "That explains some things."

"It does? Explains what?" Jack asked.

Captain Ford's mirror shook his head. "Nothing."

The reticence was not, for obvious reasons, especially mollifying to the pilot. "Explains what?"

"We can cover more of the chitchat later," Maddy promised, aiming to spare any non-coyote members of her crew seamier details that only the two Fords would really have appreciated. "Right now, we need to start putting a plan together. We're taking the Agamemnon out of commission, and Hatfield with it. Time is of the essence."

"It is?"

In her ready room--the Akita was already feeling rather back at home--she explained further. "The Union has been conducting research into our... parallel dimensions. They've already learned plenty. For one thing, it seems to be easier--less destructive, anyway--to get from here back to our universe than the other way around, but they can't do it routinely. And it doesn't naturally happen often. Their scientists think the key would be getting access to one of our reactors--something about examining how the particles interact. I don't understand all the details."

She spared a glance at Dr. Schatz; the Border Collie misinterpreted the wary expression as an invitation. "I'm beginning to. There seems to be an infinitesimal difference between them, a small spatial gradient that expresses itself with a temporal dimension. It's a little like what was theorized by--"

Maddy caught up before her science officer could go any further. "Temporal, you said? Right. There's still an aperture connecting the two universes, torn open when the Pictor starship's reactor went up. We could create a similar detonation from this side, and reopen it long enough to cross back through. Both ends of the aperture are drifting, though. The movement is minute in terms of space. In terms of time, though--"

Pieces clicked into place for Barry, who gasped sharply. "My God. That's the missing piece. I observed this looking at the attenuation in a transmission we picked up--how it was received by our equipment. I tried resolving it through the Ivers-Yazin method, obviously, but some component was off. Quaternions have never been my specialty--honestly, I prefer--well, anyway, I think if rotate the data with an additional dimension..."

He had a hologram up, manipulating the algorithms while the others around the table--Maddy included--watched blankly. They could, at least, tell that something was happening: chunks of data that had been marked as red suddenly turned white and arranged themselves in a neat pattern. "If you rotate it," Dave echoed cautiously. "Something happens? What's happening?"

"The solution. For every 98 minutes we spend here, the aperture experiences a day of relative difference between the two frames," Barry finished. "If we crossed through it right now, we'd arrive back in our universe 160 days after we left."

Captain May, back amongst her crew and their penchant for such observation, now very definitely felt at home. "Something like that, yes."

"Exactly like that, ma'am. Ninety-eight minutes, four seconds. It explains everything."

"You mean we've been stuck here for months?" Commander Bradley felt his heart sink. "We must've been written off..."

"Not exactly 'stuck.' Time progresses the same way in both frames. Traveling back through the aperture, though, would take 160 days. We'll experience it instantaneously, but--"

Maddy cut the Border Collie off before they could continue quibbling over semantics. "The point is, we're going to return after six months of disappearance. And there's a war on. Now, the researcher I talked to at Ankiyana thought that maybe we could stabilize the aperture so that it wouldn't take any time for us to cross back through it. Or to open a new aperture, without any kind of drift--but those would both be gambles, and ones that entail spending more time here than I'd like to in case they don't pan out."

Nobody argued with her. "So what do we do?"

"You said 'stabilize.' But that apparently isn't necessary, right?" Dave looked between Dr. Schatz and May, who seemed most likely to know the answer. Barry was the first to nod. "We could just go back through, then, with a similar burst of energy?"

"Formally, the way our shields reacted with the energy burst, sir. But I'm still not entirely sure I know how we got here to begin with. That makes reversing it difficult."

"Something with the reactor," Maddy reminded him. She'd tried to take surreptitious notes at Ankiyana, although other things had been on her mind during the conversation after Cissonius began discussing options. "High-frequency interference... cascade? Does that make sense?"

"Maybe," the collie answered--dangerously. Dangerous, too, were the way his eyes flicked as he searched his brain for the pattern it needed. "Pictor ships are massive. If we set off... yeah! Then..."

He started calling up more diagrams on the hologram above the table. "If you know the answer, tell us."

"I'm not sure you really--"

"Tell us," May repeated.

Barry, perceptively, looked to Shannon Hazelton. "Pictor ships link their antigravity to the main reactor. So if they're FTL-capable, at those masses, they must have some kind of... a... low-diffusion tomophasic compensator, right? You would've seen--"

"Kedion radiation," the chief engineer confirmed. "Yeah. Exactly. I tried to reinforce the gamma isolator on those lines, but if it overloaded, and we were locked to that frequency, then it would've generated some kind of--"

"A feedback loop. Which collapsed when we were inside the subspace bubble created by the reactor after it went critical, interfering with our field generator."

Too late, Maddy realized how aptly she might've warned herself about getting what she wished for. "And this all means?"

"We'd need a reactor that generates those kind of fields, Mads. But if we had one, and if we set it off right next to us, and if we had our ship angled just right for the LRU to collapse the subspace bubble... we could get home."

"And you can do that?"

"Yeah. Sure."

Dave cleared his throat. "I heard a lot of 'ifs.'"

"That's my team's specialty, Dave. Leave it to us."

***

Captain "Shamrock" Ford's personal log, stardate 67451.2

This is not a plan. Not even a coyote would call this a plan, and it apparently came from one. How the fuck do they make them in this place? End l--

No. Belay that. I meant 'how the fuck do they make plans,' not 'how the fuck do they make coyotes.' I have a pretty good idea about that one. If you meet yourself, is it okay to be a little disappointed?

"So... so let me get this straight," Jack said. "You're going to betray your own captain and let her get captured by the resistance. Even though if the truth ever gets out, you're definitely going to be executed for treason."

The other coyote shrugged. "The truth won't get out. The Union has an interest in covering up what happened here. I think they'll also have an interest in Hatfield being out of the equation for a while."

"Why?"

"Ambition is one thing. Destabilizing the sector is something else. Captain May explained a lot to me about your world. Your 'Terran Confederation' doesn't make a whole lot of sense to me, I'll be honest, but I think you have something right. You're able to hold together a huge coalition without conflict--without too much conflict, anyway. I think we're at the limit of what fear can do."

"What about the strategic advantage of our ship? Our technology?"

"If we could integrate it, you mean. It's a loss, but it's not going to be anything revolutionary. We don't have enemies we need help defeating, either. We can manage."

Ciara's role in the operation would be simple--using the Tempest's cloaking device to get close to the Agamemnon, listening for a short-range transmission from Commander Ford so that she could transmit the right navigational commands to confuse their 'blinkdrive'-equipped shuttle.

In this sense, she was listening to Ford's explanation only as a formality. The coyote struck her as substantially more composed and less reckless than the one she was used to. A pragmatist, even. "Can I ask a question? What did you learn at this... research station?"

"Why? What do you mean?"

"How would it not be revolutionary? General Beltran thinks so, after all. Something must've spooked you."

His ears splayed. Now Jack was curious, too--unused to seeing a fellow coyote so hesitant. He'd come to Munro's conclusion, with a more intimate knowledge of what life as a troubledog was like. "She's right, ain't she? Can't just have been the, uh, the extracurriculars. You can tell us."

Commander Ford's ears pinned further when Jack accentuated 'extracurriculars' with a knowing, downwards glance. "Alright. I'm sure she'll tell you. Your 'Star Patrol' is pretty trusting with information, I guess. The head of the project comes from your universe, not mine. I didn't speak with him. But... May did, and the pieces fell into place."

"'Pieces,'" Jack echoed.

"He's not trying to get back home, the way you are. The facility at Ankiyana is planning an invasion. If they were able to control travel between the universes, we could strike at our leisure. We already know the terrain, don't we? We know your weapons are badly outclassed. That's why they're being funded. That's why Hatfield cares about you. The opportunity for plunder is... compelling, you have to admit."

"Yeah. Why not take it?" the other coyote asked. "It is compelling."

"The best-case scenario is a flood of new wealth, and our warlords squabbling to divide up the pie. Who would want to make sure the Link stays in check? Or the damned Uxzu--they're always looking for a fight."

"If Captain Hatfield used the opportunity to seize power," Ciara thought out loud. "She might try a coup. Something tells me that's how your government works, anyway."

"Yes. Theresa wants first dibs on your universe--she sees herself at the head any invasion fleet, I'm sure. It's not just the technology she wants. Resources, ships, slaves... others already see her as a threat. If she was a serious challenger..." the coyote shook his head grimly. "It would be a bad fight. And when Hatfield usurps the throne, there will be consequences. You've already seen the lengths she's willing to go to."

"And that's not the worst-case scenario."

"No. No, Jack, it isn't," he told his mirror. "The worst-case scenario is that we invade and lose. You might find a way to strike back. Or if you don't, maybe the Pictor in your universe do. Or anyone else. Theresa is a lit fuse, looking for something to detonate. I've gotten this far because I'm a survivor, Commander Munro. Your captain convinced me that I wouldn't survive this one."

They walked him to his shuttle and set the coyote up to launch. Their stealthy scout ship was waiting on the far side of the Kahil-class heavy fighter Munro had used to transfer back to the Dark Horse--they could return it to the Link after the battle, and there wasn't a good reason to let any Union officer see the Tempest up close.

As far as he was concerned, Ciara might just as well be flying the Kahil. And, when she entered the spy ship, the vixen felt similarly inclined. "Oh, my dear God." The Tempest's interior was filled with hastily spliced conduits, and blinking devices Ciara could only assume were fully operational no matter how half-assembled they appeared. "Captain, are you still out there? Do you know what any of this is?"

Jack cautiously made his way up to the gangplank and joined her, eyes sweeping the mess. A bundle of cables ran to the closed hatch for the ship's utility locker; a small piece had been cut away to let the wires through, with a computer terminal fixed in place just above it. "Not a damn clue. Display says something about links to the sensor grid. They're all 'OK.'"

The vixen sighed, reading the fine print aloud. "'Sensitive equipment. Contact Engineering before disturbing.' Spaceman Wallace's handiwork," she concluded. The display notes made sense, though, despite the otter's typically cavalier attitude to documentation. "This all must be to adapt the cloaking device to the Union's scanners. I guess we'll call that 'needed.' I wish I knew what this all did."

"You want to get him over here?"

They didn't have time, though, did they? Ciara shook her head, knowing she'd have to trust the otter. Captain Ford disembarked, and as she went through the pre-flight checklists she could at least reassure herself that the new equipment wasn't doing anything to mess the rest of the ship up.

At least, not more than usual: the Tempest was a prototype, after all, and Munro was painfully aware that behind every tidy-looking panel would be even more hacked-together electronics. After launch, she put it through its paces for a few circuits around the Dark Horse; the thrusters behaved normally, too.

"Dark Horse, this is the Tempest. Ready to engage the hyperdrive."

"Hey, Tempest. Captain says go for it. Good luck, vix." That was Mitch's voice and, despite Alexander many's quirks, Ciara found that she would've been quite happy to have the Abyssinian in the cockpit with her. As it was, she was on the mission by herself.

At top speed, the Agamemnon was only a half-hour away. She couldn't find 'Ankiyana' on any of the pilfered Union star maps, and it didn't match any names in her own database--how far distant was that, she had to wonder. Proper jumpdrives still bested anything the Tempest's brilliant designers could've conceived of.

She dropped out of hyperspace only a few thousand kilometers from her target. "Dark Horse. I've found the Agamemnon. I'm getting into position now." There was no reaction from the huge battleship--nothing to suggest she'd been discovered, and she closed the rest of the distance carefully.

Fifteen minutes later, the tactical alarm chirped to announce a new contact. It was Commander Ford's shuttle, blinking into existence. She wondered if the coyote knew they'd be able to eavesdrop on his transmissions. "Agamemnon, Shuttle Alpha requesting priority landing clearance." "Jonathan. We seem to only be picking up one life sign..." "Yes, ma'am. We need to talk. That's the priority." "Land."

The voice sounded frosty. Ford hadn't given anything away, though, at least not over the radio. Maybe he did know she'd be able to hear him. Or maybe he wasn't planning on triple-crossing the Star Patrol. "Dark Horse. The shuttle has landed. I'm still getting good telemetry from Commander Ford, and a solid downlink to the shuttle."

"Stand by," Mitch told her. Now the waiting game began.

The Tempest's scanners tracked Ford's marker, leaving the shuttlebay and making his way to the battleship's bridge. According to the telemetry, he was still alive. So far, so good. Her friends were already on the approach, and no more than ten or twenty minutes out.

Splitting the difference, the cruiser joined them with its weapons charged, its engines hot, and a course laid directly for the battleship. They hadn't been as precise as she had, or they wanted time to line up their approach, she supposed.

Whatever the reason, Hatfield reacted immediately. The Agamemnon's shields activated, and her tactical systems came up to full power. Missile guidance scanners swept in a frantic arc, focusing on the incoming cruiser--but catching, for a moment, too. Ciara frowned, and watched the next cycle, in case she'd missed something.

No. Fuck. "Dark Horse. My cloaking device is becoming compromised. I'm trying to counteract it. But..."

"Firing range in, uh... five minutes, vix. Can you hold position?"

Could she? Fuck, she swore again, internally. TJ Wallace, something of a sloppy genius, had done a good job programming the new equipment. He had not, however, given her much to go on when it came to diagnosing problems. And every time the sensors lit her up, the signal return was getting stronger. "I don't know. They're going to pick me up in... I'd guess two minutes. Maybe less."

"Understood. Keep us posted," Mitch said. No pet names. The Abyssinian would be trying to help from her side, while coordinating the cruiser's own attack. Ciara skimmed the readouts from her countermeasures, trying to find out what the Agamemnon was even detecting from the stealth ship.

Whatever it was stayed subtle enough to elude her. In another few seconds, she would no longer be a ghost the tacticians on the battleship could ignore. "Dark Horse, I'm not having any luck, here."

"Copy that, Tempest. Wait one." And then: "You need to back off."

But the voice had suddenly become much clearer. It didn't, for that matter, seem to be coming from over the radio. Ciara looked over her shoulder. "Mitch?"

The Abyssinian--standing, Munro noticed, in front of the now-open utility locker--shook her head. "No, not quite. Back us off. You're too close to them."

She made a split-second decision to obey, pulsing her thrusters and letting the battleship recede. The alarms quieted. "I'm staying close for a reason, you know..."

"Right. But we're generating reactor interference. You--" the feline cut herself off, pointing to a flashing warning on the computer console: signal lost. "Short-range passive-powered transmitter, yes?"

"Yes..."

"Narrow the scan radius and apply a phase compensation to the signal. I--I can show you? If you want?"

Munro did not know why the feline--Torres, wasn't it?--had stowed away on the Tempest. Anyone from the Link should have departed. Allowing her access to the ship's sensitive electronics was not a terribly good idea. Neither was ignoring the alarm. She gestured with her open palm to the copilot's station. "Go for it."

Torres took the seat and started work. "Because we got the ship's blueprints. We can just use that to adjust the filter... identify the signal phase and amplify that. You know?" She asked with the sincere tone of someone who expected her audience actually did.

Munro wasn't quite following, but another transmission cut in. "Tempest, what's your status?"

The signal lost alert had gone away. "Ah. Dark Horse, I think I'm safe for now. Still have a good signal from Mr. Ford, and there's no sign I've been detected."

And the Agamemnon had other things to focus on: they were maneuvering to meet the Dark Horse, turrets already aligned to open fire. Munro caught radio traffic: Hatfield, her voice as cold as before. "Captain May. I see you found your ship again."

"I see your lapdog found yours. Are you ready to surrender?"

Hatfield's response was to cut the channel, and then to open fire. Ciara watched with no small degree of concern: Hatfield's ship had what would've counted for a fleet's worth of firepower, in the Star Patrol. All of it was now trained on the Dark Horse, although they'd reinforced the deflector shields and the shots that landed failed to pierce them.

But she didn't return fire, coming ever closer as another salvo made a more dramatic effort to get through. At the last moment, perhaps fearing that the ship was a decoy and they were about to be rammed, Hatfield broke off the collision course. And, finally, the Dark Horse struck.

The cruiser yawed, skidding sideways as it slipped past the Agamemnon. Her particle cannons fired in two quick, narrow pulses, and the result was immediate. Between Eli Parnell and Leon Bader, they'd aimed cleanly and well: the battleship's power signature dropped precipitously as both deflectors and main engines went offline.

"Yes," Torres hissed. "How do you like that, you bitch?"

Gleefully, Ciara thought: the hiss had sounded gleeful. "Excuse me?"

The Abyssinian jerked her head over, looking at Munro as if startled by her own outburst. "She's earned the language, ma'am."

Ma'am was, as epithets went, even more surprising to hear from someone who looked like Mitch Alexander. "It's not over yet."

"Might as well be. Hey--is that important? Incoming transmission."

It was from Commander Ford, and it was one word only: go. Ciara pointed the Tempest at the now-disabled battleship and made her approach to its spinning hulk. Their downlink to the shuttle re-established itself; she sent the payload to reprogram its navigation computer, and waited.

"The Agamemnon will be able to restart her main reactor in another two or three minutes," Torres warned. "And their first step will be the targeting scanners, so be ready for that. My suggestion would be to put some more distance between you and them. Wouldn't want to catch a stray cannon pulse."

"The odds are not good for a 'stray.'"

"Even if they're not sure what this sensor anomaly is, they'll shoot at it. The Union isn't as cautious or as... polite... as you are. How are this thing's shields, if we get hit?"

Munro found herself considering another question. "You were hiding in the utility closet. Isn't that where the emergency egress suits are--'if we get hit'?"

"There were two, yes. I... moved one to another ship in the bay so I could make room. You, um. You can have the one that's left, if you want. But..."

"Or, I could back off. I see." Ciara fired their thrusters. Her view was still perfectly adequate to watch the Agamemnon's shuttle launch, and then disappear. "Can you fly at all? Like a Kahil-class fighter-bomber, maybe?"

"No. Sorry."

"Maybe..." She was thinking aloud. "If we put you off, anyway, the Link could pick it up, I guess. Would that work?"

"I... don't want them to pick me up. Why do you think I'm here?"

"I wasn't exactly sure about that, to be honest. I figured you didn't just fall asleep in the closet, though."

"No. And I know that I don't really... I mean. Let me try again: it's not like we've really met, right? You said we were friends in this universe. I'd like to try, at least. Things are different for you in this 'Star Patrol.' Better--I know I'd fit in better there than I do here. Hell, if you try to make me go back I will take that egress suit..."

"Did you talk to Commander Bradley about this?"

"Didn't have the chance. I will, I promise! TJ said he'd at least be willing to hear me out. You agree, don't you? Your culture seems awfully... enlightened. I want to believe I can trust you. I..."

"Yes?" the vixen asked, head canting.

"I want to believe that you want to believe that you can trust me."

"Can I?"

"I don't know. But you want to. Right?"

She sighed heavily. "I--hold on, it's my ship. Dark Horse, Tempest here. Go ahead."

"General Beltran just confirmed they've picked up Captain Hatfield's shuttle. There's a derelict Pictor freighter waiting at the site of our first battle. Can you hold position long enough to see if the Agamemnon is joined by any other ships before it finishes repairs, and then meet us there?"

Torres looked at her hopefully. Well, what's another few minutes? Captain May will know what to do, anyway. "Roger. I'll lay in a course. See you in a bit, Dark Horse. Tempest out."

***

Captain's log, stardate 67452

We've arrived back where we started--I think. Beltran has held up her end of the bargain; we have the ship we'll need to reopen the aperture. Dr. Schatz has come up with a plan for doing that, although he cautions that we'll only have one attempt. The link between our universes is already fraying, and the detonation will damage it beyond repair.

I think, and the crew agrees, that this is a good thing. We can't_, however, guarantee that it won't happen again. Schatz believes there may be something about this region of space that makes it particularly susceptible; I'm not interested in finding out. I'm not interested in being_ found out_, either, although the Union probably knows we're here: we found one of their probes, converted to serve as an automated listening station._

That means we're up against the clock.

It was worse than she'd feared--fifteen minutes after starting work, Mitch Alexander gave her the bad news. "That probe must've gotten a distress call out. We have indications of multiple vessels converging on our position--maybe an hour out, captain; no more than two."

May considered the possibility of fighting them off; Dave could practically see the wheels turning in her head. "Maddy, the Link has what they want from us. They're not going to stand and fight."

The Akita sighed; he was right, she supposed. "Can we get the ship ready?"

"We can. The Tempest will land in the next minute or so. I'll have Parnell start plotting our trajectories."

"Do it, then. They need to be as accurate as possible--every deviation from the optimum angle is going to cost us time. Our shields are operational, too? Whatever Shannon needs to do to make everything work?"

"I believe so. I can check."

At the CCI station, Mitch cleared her throat. "Uh, captain? Commander Munro says there's something wrong with the Tempest. She's asked to be met in the shuttlebay."

"By an engineer?"

"It just says 'someone,' ma'am. But she asked if you were available."

Maddy had bigger fish to fry. "Dave. Take care of it while you're on the way to engineering. If it does need maintenance, tell Munro it'll have to wait until we're back home. Shannon's first priority is making sure we can do this... thing. Got it?"

"Got it."

As he left, May started reviewing Barry's proposal. It aligned with what she'd heard the scientist say: the calibration of the deflectors, and the precise modulation of their own main reactor...

They had only an hour to set everything up for what, optimistically, were long odds of success. In and of itself, that didn't worry her: probabilities were for other people. But she felt the pressure of the coming armada, and of each new wrench in the works that made her job just that little bit more difficult.

The door slid open, and she heard her first officer's footsteps. Her hope was that he was about to make things better--for example, to tell her that Shannon Hazelton was completely ready to proceed with their work. This was, of course, not what he did: "We have a complication, Maddy."

"This isn't the time." The Akita didn't bother to look up from her console. She was trying to remember everything she'd learned at Ankiyana, everything she'd tried to get Dr. Cissonius to reveal, and double-checking their preparations. "Handle it. You're good at complications."

By this she meant that he was good at keeping the details from obstructing whatever May was inclined to focus on instead. "A stowaway, captain. They reconfigured the cloaking device on the Tempest to hide their signs from our internal scanners."

Now, finally, the captain looked over at Dave, and the Abyssinian standing next to him. The feline spoke before May had a chance to. "Captain May, I formally request asylum aboard the Dark Horse. I'd like to come with you."

The context having been provided, Dave summarized the only part he felt would be relevant to his captain. "Like I said: a complication."

"As the ranking Star Patrol officer, you're allowed to make a decision yourself. If adjudication is required, I assert my right to an impartial council under Article 26, Section 17 of the revised diplomatic codex."

May stared at her first officer. "Dr. Beltran coached her?"

"Dr. Beltran doesn't know, ma'am," Torres said. "That was Mr. Wallace."

"TJ coached you?" It sounded a little like: TJ can read? May shook her head. "We don't have time for this."

"Captain May, respectfully, I'm just--"

"Not now. Please. Your request is granted. We'll find you a room. Later."

"Thank you, captain!"

"Captain," Dave began. "We don't even know if she can survive in our universe."

"We'll figure it out," she assured him, and faced Torres. "Join Spaceman Alexander at CCI. We need to make sure the reactor is properly configured and our own modifications are back online before we set off the fireworks. You'll probably know that freighter's systems better than we do."

"Yes, ma'am." With a crisp nod, she bounded over to her twin's station.

Mitch made room. "Did TJ help you stow away, too?"

"No. I did that on my own. Why else did you send me to the Tempest to learn about its systems?"

"I'm not that reckless," the Abyssinian lied. She was that reckless, although she hadn't done anything deliberately. She did accurately guess she was liable to be blamed, at least in part; that could all come later, too. "Do you understand what we're trying to do? The low-power repulsor unit needs to exactly match the reactor's radiation profile."

"Yeah. Yeah, I think I get it. These older reactors, they've got a damping unit to control feedback. You think the harmonics are important?"

"We're trying to blow a hole open between parallel universes," Mitch said with a shrug. "How the fuck should I know? I guess we should try, though. That's what Barry seemed to be telling me."

"Alright. I'll take that on. You'll want to set the repulsor for two angles... I'll get those to you in a minute. That work?"

"That works."

By the time it did, the freighter's self-destruct sequence was five minutes from triggering. Mitch hoped she knew what to expect from the previous encounter; she started isolating their most sensitive systems so they could be quickly restarted. There was no telling what awaited them.

Eli Parnell had similar thoughts: the wolf's navigational plot showed them as being exactly on course--down to the barest fraction of an arc second. That course, however, involved being pointed directly at the hulk of a freighter twice the cruiser's mass, with a reactor that seemed to be increasingly unstable.

She had a reputation for being nervous. This, strictly speaking, was not completely unfair. But Eli was willing to count such concern as entirely warranted, given the circumstances. They were trusting Dr. Schatz's proposal, based on his intuition and Maddy's recollection of what she'd learned while in captivity.

Somehow, that ended in the decision to fly the Dark Horse straight into a freighter while it was being scuttled. "Helm?" Captain May prompted.

"Ready, captain."

"Engage."

The wolf advanced their throttles, precisely matching the navigation plot. The freighter, a speck at first, grew larger and larger on the forward viewscreen. Eli ignored the collision alarm. She ignored the coming impact. Like everyone else, she ignored every bit of trepidation for the last few seconds. Three... two...

Darkness.

But they'd all been ready for that. Mitch saw her paws, silhouetted by the emergency lightning; Eli felt the ship's controls under her fingers. And they understood what that meant: they were alive. "Damage report," Bradley ordered.

"Helm is minimally responsive. I have orientation, I think. Just barely."

"Deflectors and weapons systems offline, sir," Bader added.

"Main grid is nominal but stable," Mitch read from her console as it slowly rebooted. "DC bots are responding to a fire in the deflector control room, and the commlink to main engineering is... wait, it's back. Message from Lieutenant Hazelton: we should have main power in twenty minutes."

If they were ambushed, obviously, twenty minutes would be an eternity--before then, there was a bigger priority for Dave than the shields or their tactical systems. "Get enough reserve for the sensors. Where are we?"

Mitch went to work, and felt Torres nudge her side. "You have passive, at least. Right?"

Her twin's intuitive understanding of their systems was impressive; she'd made a good point. "Yeah. Uh. Okay. I'm picking up debris scattered in a wide radius, consistent with a ship's hull. Radioactive decay indicates it was destroyed 214 days ago."

And Eli Parnell realized that, even with only its most basic functions intact, the navigation computer wasn't giving the wolf an error--that was significant in and of itself. "I think we have a good astrometric fix, too, sir. We're in the right place."

Bit by bit, the ship pieced itself back together, and that certainty deepened. They'd made their way back to the right universe, if not the right time. There were no signs of Union patrol vessels. No signs of anything, for that matter.

"Long-range sensors are operational again, captain." Mitch started looking for signals before Maddy asked her explicitly to do so; the need was obvious.

"Scan for any Dominion ships. We'll want a tactical update as soon as possible."

"Yes, ma'am. I think... um. Hold on. This is weird. The integrator isn't--"

"It's fine," Torres said, shaking her head.

Maddy couldn't see what the two Abyssinians were looking at. "What's fine?"

"The integrator's giving some weird--hey!"

"It's fine," Torres muttered, batting Mitch's paw away. "Just purge the volatile bank. There. See? It's cleared up."

Yes, but. "It's still weird. I'm detecting a Star Patrol ship, ma'am, about nine parsecs away."

That got everyone's attention. "Who?" May demanded. "Is it us? It better not be us, spaceman."

"Uh. No. It's the Ui-te-Rangiora."

Dave, unlike the Akita, vaguely remembered that name. "A long-range survey ship. Probably looking for us, Maddy."

"Probably. Can we hail them, Mitch?"

"Subspace radio will be... spotty, ma'am, at this distance and without repeaters. But we can try."

"Do it."

Mitch fiddled with the long-distance transmitter until she was able to get an authenticated response. "Channel open, ma'am. Audio only."

"This is Captain Madison May, of the Dark Horse. How do you read me?"

"Barely, captain." The response was, indeed, crackly and indistinct. "This is the Ui-te-Rangiora, Commander Wilkes speaking. It's really you? We'd given up hope."

"It's really us. And a long story. I wasn't expecting to see any friends in this sector. Is the Star Patrol in the Rewa-Tahi now?"

"Yes, if you count us. I'm afraid we're it, captain. Doubling back to meet you now at flank speed. How is your ship?"

"Battered, but intact. We'll do our best to intercept you."

"Appreciated, ma'am. Admiral Mercure will want a battle readiness report, ma'am, if it's not too much trouble. I... I have to tell you the situation isn't good. But I'd best speak more in person."

Everyone on the bridge flinched at that--even Torres, who could tell the change in mood. May kept her head up. "Understood. Dark Horse out. Ens--Lieutenant Bader, sorry--I want that report as soon as possible. Helm, make to intercept the Ui-te-Rangiora and start moving the moment we have our hyperdrive back. Dave, track down Beltran and Lieutenant Vasquez and meet me in my ready room. Ah, and Dr. Schatz. Him too."

"Right now?"

"Right now."

***

It took only fifteen minutes, during which time the Akita found herself actually pacing, trying to deal with the gnawing pit in her stomach. She rubbed at her wrist--the compliance bracelet was gone, removed by their doctor, and she realized she was alone with her thoughts for the first time since departing Ankiyana.

She didn't like them.

The others picked up on her uneasiness immediately. "What's on your mind, Maddy? Is this about, uh... our new crewman?"

Dave's guess was logical; on the other hand, until he mentioned it Torres had completely slipped her mind. "No. Have Ayenni look at her, but... it'll be fine. She'll adjust."

Dr. Beltran opened her mouth to ask for clarification, but it was fairly obvious what must've happened. She suppressed the rhetorical question and, hoping against hope that her intuition was incorrect, tried the less worrying of the remaining possibilities. "If it is something else, and you want me here, you must be concerned about the Pictor."

"I am. But I want you for something else. The leader of the Union's Ankiyana Research Center is a Dr. Julian Cissonius. He's been working there for twenty years--ever since he came from our universe. I want to know who he was."

Dave's brow knit as the retriever digested the implications. "Our universe? That's why you think Torres will be able to survive here?"

"Yes. He spent our meeting in an exposure suit, but I'm not entirely certain that wasn't just an affectation. And he said... concerning things. I didn't like our conversation. I tried to download some images of Ankiyana from the shuttle. Barry, I'm hoping you might be able to match them to something in our database. If not there, in Qalamixi's records. My guess is that it's somewhere in the Rewa-Tahi Sector."

The Border Collie nodded promptly. "I'll do what I can."

Dave Bradley, in parallel, had been following up on something else--a different proper noun. "Julian Cissonius was Star Patrol. Or... no. Is Star Patrol?" He'd expected to see a 'ship lost' in the man's records, but an unsettling amount was phrased in the present tense. "Lieutenant Commander Cissonius, last stationed at Research Center Leonardo, working on some kind of propulsion project on the Beothuk. Cissonius is listed as MIA, but I can't tell the exact date. My security codes don't work--it's locked by the Admiralty."

And the unease she'd felt, talking to the figure in the suit, deepened. "Someone with diplomatic codes would have special access. I believe."

Felicia Beltran was used to the way her captain bent protocol--which was not to say the leopardess was comfortable with it. "It would be highly irregular for me to use that authority in this fashion, captain. Depending, it might even be grounds for disciplinary action."

"I know."

"ISD might, too," Lieutenant Vasquez volunteered. The wolf didn't know if that was why May had asked him to join her--and it wasn't, exactly--but the Internal Security Division gave him broader latitude than Beltran had. "Let me see, sir?"

Dave handed his computer over. "Be my guest."

It accepted Vasquez's biometric signature much faster than it should've--didn't even prompt him to confirm a 'need to know.' He cocked his head. "Okay. The Beothuk was lost with all hands in 2782, to some kind of main engine failure that destroyed the ship. Those are the classified records. Commander Cissonius was its captain, but then... his code is listed with an active command. It's--what..."

That was a rhetorical question, even if the wolf's tone was too flat for it to register as one. "Lieutenant?"

The broad latitude Vasquez had, as an ISD officer, demanded he recognize why the information had been classified and say nothing further to Madison or the others. He owed it, as a responsibility to his commanding officer. He fought through his shock to appreciate that conclusion, and that responsibility.

And then to discard it.

"Cissonius's cryopod was recovered, adrift, in 2784. His service record is blank for three months of rehabilitation; then he went back on active duty. But Julian Cissonius is still officially MIA--because by that point, he'd changed his name."

"To?"

"Gill Mercure."