Dragon and Liberator

"Great," Jack grunted, glancing over the Essenay's systems as he strapped in. The only ships he could see ahead of them were the Advocatus Diaboli, the Foxwolf, and five of Frost's Djinn-90s. The latter, to Jack's mild surprise, had spread themselves wide to all sides instead of flying in a group between him and two bigger ships. "Uncle Virge, do you have a tag on the rest of Neverlin's fleet?"

"They're about a thousand miles behind us," Uncle Virge said. "In three different groups, like Draycos said. All three groups are moving up fast."

"Pretending they're chasing the poor defenseless Foxwolf and Advocatus Diaboli," Jack said, nodding grimly. "Uncle Virgil and I ran this scam I don't know how many times."

"How do we defeat it?" Draycos asked.

"All it takes is a toot on the whistle," Jack said, keying the long-range transmitter. "K'da/Shontine fleet, this is the Essenay," he said. "Please respond."

There was no answer. "K'da/Shontine refugee fleet, this is Jack Morgan aboard the Essenay," Jack tried again. "I have someone here who needs to speak to you." He gestured Draycos toward the microphone. "Draycos?"

Draycos let loose with a torrent of alien speech. Jack listened in fascination at the flow of the words, regretting the fact that he wouldn't be able to understand and therefore fully appreciate the astonishment that would undoubtedly be part of the fleet's response.

But there was no response, astonished or otherwise. "Uncle Virge?" he asked.

"Radio's working perfectly, Jack lad," Uncle Virge assured him. "Neverlin must be jamming or bubbling the signal."

"Of course he is," Jack said, disgusted with himself for not having realized that sooner. "That's why those five Djinn-90s are flying wide—they're adding their own jamming to the mix."

"What method of jamming is he using?" Draycos asked.

"Either a blank bubble or a jamming static field," Uncle Virge said. "I can't tell which from this distance. A bubble absorbs or scatters all radio signals passing through it, while a static field simply broadcasts noise on all frequencies so as to drown out everything else."

"It's probably a bubble," Jack said. "It's classier and a lot more subtle. It's also easier to keep your own communications open with a bubble than it is with static."

"If the Advocatus Diaboli is able to signal through the bubble, does that mean we can do the same if we use its frequency and pattern?" Draycos asked.

"In theory, yes," Jack said. "In practice, we'll never find the pattern in time."

"Then what do we do?"

Jack gazed out the canopy at the drive glows ahead in the distance. "We get past the bubble," he said, getting a grip on the control yoke and firing up the main drive. "And since those Djinn-90s were kind enough to pull way out to the sides out of the way, it looks like our best bet will be to go straight up the middle."

"Up the middle?" Uncle Virge echoed. "Jack, you don't mean—?"

"I sure do," Jack confirmed as he ran the drive to full power. "We're taking this crate right up the Advocatus Diaboli's tailpipe."

The Advocatus Diaboli's living areas were deserted as Alison made her way aft from the bridge.

Not surprising, really. All of the crew were at their emergency stations, and all the Malison Ring mercenaries still on board were guarding the bridge, the Death, and other vital areas.

One of those areas was Neverlin's office, she saw as she rounded the final corner and came within sight of the office door. There were three men on duty: two flanking the door, the third holding station down the corridor halfway between the office and Alison.

There was no way she could take out all three of them, positioned as they were, at once, not even with Taneem to help. Alison would have to play it another way.

"I need to get into Mr. Neverlin's office," she announced as she strode forward.

The nearest of the guards stirred, as if preparing to move into her path. Alison gave him a brief, lofty look, and he seemed to think better of it. "It's a thumbprint lock, Ms. Davi," he said instead.

"I know," Alison said. "He's already programmed me in."

The other's lip twitched. "Colonel Frost left orders that no one was to be allowed near the office."

"Colonel Frost isn't in charge of Mr. Neverlin's office," Alison countered as she strode past him. "You can check with Mr. Neverlin if you want."

She got two more steps before the sergeant at the door worked through his own hesitation and nodded to the man now behind Alison. "Give him a call, Halberd," he said.

Alison glanced back over her shoulder as the mercenary tapped his comm clip. "Halberd for Mr. Neverlin," he called.

Alison kept going, forcing herself to maintain a calm, even pace. Neverlin hadn't been wearing a comm clip, which meant Halberd's call would have to go through one of the Advocatus Diaboli's crew, all of whom were rather busy right now. With luck, that would give her the time she needed.