The minute Skinner emerged from the upper decks near his tether, Lumos exploded into his helmet with enough force to make him stop in mid-drift. “Captain, we have numerous contacts entering the system. The leading three have been tagged as heavy cruisers. Venan-class. Zesian markings on their hulls. If the remainder of the fleet is similar, this is a Constellation raiding party. A large one. I recommend you return to the Dangerous as soon as possible!”

That wasn’t good. The Constellation were enemies of the Senate and meaner than just about anyone he’d met. While Skinner wasn’t exactly a friend to the Senate, he was even less of a friend to the Constellation. He’d work with their informants from time to time, but avoided dealing with proper fleets if at all possible. He’d seen firsthand the devastation they could cause to unarmed civilians on Frontier worlds and had a few brushes with individual species that allied with them. If the Constellation were here, he needed to be anywhere else. Especially if they were bringing Venan-class cruisers. Those were capable of surviving combat with some of the hardiest ships the Senate could produce.

“Way ahead of you, Lumos,” he said as he snapped his tether back into place on his belt. “Yank me.”

Lumos didn’t waste any time. The cable jerked him forward with so much force he almost lost his grip on the artifact he’d found. He was reeled across the chasm between the ships like a fish on a line, yelling in panic the whole way. It wasn’t until his boots hit the outer hull of his own ship that he stopped screaming.

“Captain, I am cloaking our position as best I can with our remaining power,” Lumos told him. “I recommend—”

“Save your recommendation right now,” Skinner said as he clambered down the side of his ship towards the gaping hole. “Tell me how to fix this garbage scow so we can get the hell out of here!”

“That was my recommendation, Captain,” Lumos said. If Skinner hadn’t known better, his normally impassive CI companion sounded exasperated with him. “Begin by taking out the damaged fuel lines and cutting a similarly-sized piece to fit.”

Skinner unwound the fuel tubes from around his body, keeping the artifact tucked under one arm. “Lumos, if we get out of this in one piece, do you know of anyone who specializes in identifying relics?”

“Captain Skinner, the enemy ships are 7.3 astronomical units and closing fast. I do not think this is the best time to be discussing future plans.”

“For the love of peace,” Skinner growled as he shoved the fuel line into place. He lined up the ends and crammed them into their sockets. It wasn’t a clean fix, but it was tight enough to allow the self-repair protocols in the ship to take over and fuse the lines in place. “Now what?”

“Reconnect relay box 4-C to the main power hub,” Lumos said, once again sounding irritated.

“English please,” Skinner said. “I’m not an engineer.”

“Connect the shiny green box labeled 4-C to the other shiny green box labeled MAIN using the shiny gold wires you recovered from the not-very-shiny wreck over there.”

Skinner growled. “Very funny,” he snapped, tearing out the broken wires between the relay box and the power hub. “Make sure this doesn’t fry me?”

“Yes Captain.”

He knew that Lumos wasn’t capable of sarcasm – not in the truest sense, anyway – but it still felt as though he was being mocked by her at times. He chewed on his lip as he fed the wires into their respective ports. “Try that,” he said, pulling his hands away from the exposed wiring.

There were a few sparks, but he saw the lights along the length of his ship come on. “Power restored, Captain,” Lumos informed him. “Now cover the assembly with the manifold so it doesn’t shake loose during transit.”

“You mean like last time?” Skinner grumbled as he pressed the manifold covering into place. The material was designed to absorb the stresses of extradimensional travel, and once again his ship’s limited self-repair protocols got to work integrating the piece of metal with the hull. “Ok. That should do it.”

“The Zesian ships are .93 astronomical units away, Captain. I recommend getting inside and preparing for an immediate evasive jump,” Lumos said. “The foremost vessel is almost within high-frequency scanning range.”

“Get us out of here, then!” Skinner said as he clambered towards the airlock as quickly as possible, the glowing crystal still tucked under his arm. “Pick a system and spin up the DSG as soon as I’m inside!”

“Affirmative,” Lumos said. “Please stand by. Selecting destination.”

Skinner keyed in his airlock password and jumped in before the door was fully open. “I’m not particularly choosy, Lumos. Anywhere that isn’t here sounds perfect right about now.” Lumos didn’t respond as he stepped into the cramped interior hallway of his ship. The gravity was a welcome feeling as he ran towards the bridge at the center of his circular craft.

“Captain, the leading ship is pinpoint scanning the Gesiak,” Lumos informed him. “I have selected one of three possible destin—”

“The second one! Now get us moving before those ships spot us and open fire!” he roared as he ran onto the bridge. He cast his helmet aside, shaking out his dark hair as he threw himself into the central chair. “Now, Lumos!”

“Destination set: System:Pharoc/Planet:Rasmura/Moon:Myhrede. Please prepare for departure.”

Skinner had absolutely no idea where the Pharoc system was and at the moment he didn’t care. All that mattered was getting away from the Constellation ships before they blew him out of the sky. “Confirmed, Lumos. Launch.”

As always with 8-Dimensional transit, Skinner felt a plunge in his organs as if he was descending a particularly steep slope. His ship seemed to descend for a moment before the exterior of his forward viewports was bathed in rainbow light. His ship’s shields kicked in a moment later, protecting them from the effects of crossing dimensional boundaries as they descended into the realm of Dark Space.

He flopped back against the ratty captain’s chair with a groan, throwing one arm over his eyes. “Thank you, Lumos,” he said.

There was silence for a few moments before the image of an Erythian flickered into view on one of the hologram panels. She was tiny, even by her people’s standards, and would have only been two and a half feet tall if she’d been real. Her body was covered in a similar skintight polyform suit to his, but he could see the gray skin of her hands and face. Her head was egg-shaped and large in relation to her body, with a tiny mouth and virtually no nose or ears. Her eyes took up at least forty percent of her face and were jet-black and void of any emotion. “You are welcome, Captain.”

Skinner didn’t say anything for a few minutes as they traveled. The stress of almost being intercepted by a Constellation fleet had finally caught up with him. All he wanted to do was disappear off the grid and sleep for a while. Maybe a few days. Tangling with those monsters always terrified him. “So much for going back for the Gesiak, I suppose,” he said. “Not with the Constellation crawling all over it.”

Lumos nodded her head sagely, tapping her foot and regarding him with her impassive eyes. “With respect, Captain, I would like to broach the possibility that you were set up.”

“Ya think?” Skinner asked, moving his arm and fixing her with a baleful stare. “The Gesiak is lost for a thousand years and somehow both the Constellation and I find it on the same day? That’s a bit extreme for a coincidence, isn’t it?”

Lumos nodded again. “I believe the arms dealer you purchased the information from likely sold the information to his contacts in the Constellation,” she said. “This way, whether you found anything of value or not, he was guaranteed a paycheck even if you took some treasures and fled.”

“Well guess what we’re doing now, missy,” Skinner said. “I’m not taking that whatchamacallit back to Peralata. I’m going to find someone else to tell me what it is.”

“Ah, I see. This is why you asked for a relics expert,” Lumos said.

He scoffed dryly. “No, I figured I’d go back to school for xenoarchaeology.”

Lumos gave him an odd stare before turning her attention to the relic he’d brought back. “Captain, I am not sure if this object is safe,” she said. “In addition to Type-II radiation, I am detecting very odd energy signatures emanating from it. Nothing fatal at the moment – mostly some abnormal Gamma and Delta waves – but I suggest you use extreme caution when handling this artifact. In addition, I am unable to ascertain a species of origin for it.”

“Me neither,” he said as he stood up and walked over to the chair where he’d thrown the crystal relic. It had opened back up; the toroidal structures having moved back out away from the vertices. They’d also resumed spinning in their bizarre, bidirectional way. “I’ve never seen anything like it before.”

Lumos nodded for a third time, never taking her implacable black eyes off their newly acquired treasure. “I would recommend taking it to either Lead Researcher Izeti on Allenka or to Lead Researcher Cutlep on Schunston. Both specialize in the identification of historical artifacts. As this was discovered on an Erythian ship, I recommend seeking the expertise of an Erythian first as a starting point.”

“Not a bad idea,” Skinner said. “How far are Allenka or Schunston from wherever we’re heading?”

“Myhrede is approximately 890 light years from Allenka and 441 light years from Schunston, Captain,” Lumos informed him. A holographic map of several star systems appeared in her hands, showing him the relative positions of the planets in question.

“Okay,” he said. “We’ll resupply at Myhrede and then head for Schunston. Hopefully your pal Cutlep can tell me a bit more about this thing.”

“This sounds like an excellent plan, Captain,” Lumos said. “I will remain in contact with you once we land on Myhrede to inform you of any developments.”

“Please do,” Skinner said as the energy outside began to fluctuate. “The last thing I need is to be caught with my pants down again.”

The energy outside dissipated completely as they emerged from Dark Space. In front of them was a massive gas giant which dominated most of the forward viewport. A pair of huge pinkish-green storms whirled in its atmosphere like lopsided eyes as the rest of the clouds danced and eddied around them. Numerous moons were present in orbit around it and the integrated display in the glass began to label them. His eyes flicked over a few of them – Shaffma, Woodaca, Jensek… before he found Myhrede. “Who does this system belong to, Lumos?”

“This is a fledgling Frontier system, Captain. It claims independence from both the Senate and the Constellation and is currently ruled by a joint effort between Heil and Scain,” she answered. “The local population also includes Taeski, Humans, Alinteans and some Erythians.”

“Excellent,” Skinner said as he picked up his helmet. “Atmosphere readings?”

“Predominantly hydrogen and argon. I will prepare a protite syringe for you before we land.”

Skinner scowled but nodded. Protite syringes were a necessary evil when visiting new and exotic locations. Rather than try to balance the various atmospheres needed amongst the different races, protites worked by converting incoming gases into a particular balance beneficial to the user. In his case, they would convert the hydrogen and argon into nitrogen and oxygen by reassigning their electrons. The only problem was that they had to be injected directly into the lungs… a process he was less than fond of doing. “Don’t suppose I could just wear my helmet, huh?”

“I would recommend conserving your remaining oxygen tanks, Captain. While Myhrede lacks the necessary facilities to fully refill them, I would suggest attempting to do so when we reach Schunston. Especially if you plan on being able to repair the Dangerous again.”

“Noted,” Skinner said. “God, I hate it when you make sense.”

Lumos winked out from her holographic pad as their ship began its automated descent towards Myhrede. The planet was mostly swamp, from the looks of it. Yellow-green oceans covered about half the planet’s surface. The rest was covered in heavy vegetation, wetlands and sprawling moors. The air probably stank to high heaven down there. “Oh well… let’s get this over with,” Skinner said as he walked back down the hallways. The piping to his left and right rattled and hissed as he passed, some of the pressure gauges spinning madly. A small hatch opened and presented him with a six-inch syringe capped off with a trimolecular needle.

He sighed and took the needle. No matter how many times he did it, it never got easier. “Thanks Lumos,” he said as he lined the needle up with the valve on the chest of his polyform. “I won’t be long – I just need to pick up some more repair supplies and we’ll be off.”

“I will keep the ship warm for you, Captain.”