Exploration into uncharted territory is always dangerous, but for space travel it is far worse. Etherspace coordinates do not often match the proportional real space distances, requiring long journeys in real space to map the mana densities and gravitational presences along the way. Without doing this, an Etherspace jump could easily place an explorer in mortal peril.

  – Diven Minegol, Exploratory Corps

  One short burn brought Apex closer, just as the yacht’s cannons started to turn. As Sallus had predicted, he couldn’t slide up close to it completely undetected… but he didn’t need to get within touching distance, only close enough to avoid its firing arcs. It was a civilian craft, even if it was a very high-tech one, so it simply couldn’t roll fast enough to bring their cannons to bear on him before he could close the distance.

  Claws latched on with much more care than usual, as Apex folded wings in to keep them out of the way. He’d very nearly matched velocity with the sleek, delicate-looking yacht, so the stresses were minimal. He took great care to place his claws directly over where he guessed the supporting ribs of the ship’s hull were placed. The entire point of his studies at the foundry had been to understand how ships were constructed for space, so he wouldn’t be relying on his senses telling him where the reactor was.

  “Nice. Looks like it’s fully intact. Let’s hope it stays that way for step two.” Sallus chimed in after doing her own scan, confirming the structural damage was minimal. It was just her in the bridge, since Naven had refused to take part in this operation no matter how desperate they were. Only forty minutes remained of their six hour grace period. Planning and then implementing this had taken much of the time they’d been allotted.

  Sallus had tried to get the Navy man to cooperated, but he had angrily put his foot down, insisting that innocent civilians shouldn’t be touched. Sallus had argued that the people on this yacht were far from innocent, but that hadn’t convinced him.

  Apex was a little worried about that. Naven was an excellent foil to Sallus, in his mind, because of their divergent beliefs. If they lost him because he was squeamish about a few deaths, that would be a pity. Pan might work for the viewpoint, but Naven’s naval experience was a lot more useful than the dying gobling’s growing proficiency as a galley cook.

  As for why Sallus thought this yacht would be ‘safe’ to disable, Apex didn’t understand. Something about politics and rule of law. All very Lesser Folk concepts that he didn’t care to learn about. There’d been a big fight about it, with Sallus insisting the yacht’s owner was just as evil as Gristlemaw, while Naven didn’t even think evil was a real thing.

  The dragon dismissed the memory from his concerns and set about step two. His tail curled upward, piercing the middle of the hull right beside the keel – he didn’t want any structural damage – and let the hot plasma from the drill spew through the decks. He’d been told that a craft like this didn’t have bulkheads that could stand up to a sudden surge of plasma like this, and he hoped that was true. He didn’t want the flash of heat to last more than a moment.

  In the span of a few seconds, everyone on board was incinerated.

  “I am still tempted to just jump to the third system.” The grumbling wasn’t particularly plaintive, but Apex disliked playing by these rules. “I’m sure that it’s a trap, but at least it would be over with sooner.”

  “I know you’re smarter than that, Apex. Stop complaining.” Sallus chuckled aloud. “You sound like a whiny teenager, not the millennia-old dragon.”

  Apex grunted. “Once you get as old and powerful as I am, you earn the right to whine about small annoyances.”

  It was the sort of exchange that gave him something to center his mind. The actual task at hand was much more complex and delicate, and the lion’s share of the dragon’s attention was on that. With surgical precision, Apex pried open the hull just outside of one of the two fuel tanks.

  Gertrude, the operations specialist of the crew, was already in a pressure suit and emerging from the hatch just below his neck, small bursts of propellant carrying her across the short gap between the two ships with the thick hose. She was probably the only one of the crew – aside from Sallus – competent enough to quickly attach the hose to the tank and allow Apex to pump the fuel out. Their timetable was much too short to try explaining it to an amateur.

  It still took almost thirty minutes to empty the tank, disconnect the hose, and bring Gertrude back in. They were really cutting it close, but the last part was both the shortest and the most complex portion of the plan. It wasn’t much of a plan, not really… but if it put them in a better position, that’s all that mattered.

  A huge amount of strain was put on his circuits, but Apex went ahead with the spell. It was slow going – comparatively – and took almost a full five minutes to build it up, slowly and painfully. If he’d been at full strength this would have been trivial, but no sense complaining about that again now. He had to make do, and he was sure that he was clever enough to work around the limitation.

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  At last, Apex finished his spell and shunted all his stored heat into the fuel tank. Another quick burn of his own thrusters gave the yacht some more velocity in the vague direction of the resort world, and his work was done. He released the yacht and let it continue to coast, the heat he’d stored inside releasing just enough to make it look like a normal yacht.

  “I’ve never planned around someone like this before,” Apex grumbled. He shut down all nonessential systems and kept his own cloak intact, letting the only heat signature be the yacht. A short burn of his own thrusters put some distance between them, diverging rapidly. As long as he didn’t move too much, he could keep this cloak up for a long while.

  The fuel tank he’d used to store heat would bleed it off at a regular rate, appearing like the yacht had. Since nobody was on board and it was disabled, the spell didn’t need to adjust for any variation. He’d added a more complex trigger to have it burst off irregularly, similar to how he’d shed heat during the chase.

  With any luck, it would look like Apex had destroyed the yacht, and then disguised himself as the ship in order to sneak up closer to the resort that had been their original goal.

  “Are you sure you want to skip checking out the resort?” Sallus posed the question once more as she watched the yacht float away, vanishing into the canvas of stars. “If Tifello is in this region, there’s a good chance he’s relaxing. He was never known for being the most responsible of the heroes.”

  Apex grunted. “If he is here, the conflict will draw him out anyway.” That was the excuse the dragon was using instead of revealing that he could sense the hero now. Something about the proximity tickled his mind, as if he was missing something, but every time he tried to focus on it the thought slid away from him. It was vexing.

  “I suppose now we wait.”

  “Shit!”

  Pan’s curse was heard by no one except the ship, which he was grateful for. The cup clattered to the floor, spilling water across the metallic surface and splashing across his shoes. His new shoes that Sallus had helpfully provided for him.

  The gobling tucked his hand against his belly, biting down on his lip as he waited for the tingling pains and the spasming tremors to stop. His other hand – his right – was still in the splint from earlier. That violent chase had thrown him around so much his entire body was bruised, but he’d been lucky. One of the crew had died outright.

  It was a bad day for his disease. Every breath hurt, and he had to gasp deeply to calm himself. The young hybrid dropped onto his bed, trying to ease the spikes of pain that were running rampant through his body now. Spots showed in his vision, and he thought for a moment he might pass out.

  It was entire minutes before the pain ebbed to a low ache, and Pan’s labored breathing leveled out. He laid back, head dropping into his pillow with a soft groan.

  The attacks were getting more frequent. Not excessively so – he reasoned he still had months left, just as the doctor and Apex had said. But a year ago they had been once or twice a month. When he’d joined the crew, it had been once a week. This was the second one this week, and an intense one at that.

  Maybe the stress from high-G maneuvers had aggravated his system… but Pan didn’t see Apex easing up on those any time soon.

  “You are not dying yet.”

  The dragon’s voice broke into Pan’s rest, but he was still aching too much to even jerk upright in surprise. The gobling just opened his eyes, staring at the ceiling. “No, it just hurts sometimes.”

  “The substances your mother used were not meant for mortal bodies.”

  Pan flicked an ear. He didn’t want to hear that right now. His mother had made many mistakes, but he’d never felt that she hadn’t tried to take care of him. He inhaled deeply… then sighed.

  “What do you want, Apex?” The question was asked bluntly, without a care that he was speaking to one of the most infamous villains in history. Apex had taken better care of him than anyone else at Mount Fang, anyway.

  “I have a question.” The dragon’s rumble lifted in a curious note. “You are weak and sickly, and cannot fight for yourself. Yet you survived in a harsh world.”

  True enough, but the comment made Pan roll to his side. “And?”

  “We are being hunted by someone with more raw power than myself, who is an intelligent and dangerous foe.” Apex paused, and then his voice grew more mellow. “I am not used to being in a position this dire. I thought that you, the weakest of the crew, might have some insight into how best to fight back.”

  Another ear twitch, and Pan rolled over the other way, easing himself up to sit on the bed. He tilted his head, unsure he’d head correctly. “You… want my advice because I am weak? Isn’t that… I don’t know… demeaning?”

  “Why?” The dragon’s tone was dismissive, or perhaps confused. The low throaty growl that was omnipresent in his speech made it difficult to tell the difference. “One does not become the strongest being in creation without observing worthwhile lessons where one finds them. You are weak, but you are a survivor. Prove your worth to me.”

  Pan closed his eyes. He should be insulted, being called weak like that, but there was no malice in Apex’s tone. It was a fact to him… and desirable, right now. “How strange that only the monsters find any value in me…”

  Apex chuckled at that, but did not argue.

  “Is the ship chasing us really that dangerous?” The gobling had to ask that. The violence of high-G maneuvers wasn’t strange, but the extended duration they’d had under those effect had been unusual… and grueling. Pan was not the only one who passed out multiple times and needed a quick check in the medical bay afterward.

  “Extremely so. He has a larger ship, is as fast as we are, and knows my tricks. He has far more weapons than we do, and our only chance is for me to get in close.”

  Pan nodded, then took a deep breath. His death may come much faster than he ever thought.

  “Okay. Here’s what you need to do…”