*   *   *

“You want me to do what?” Gold wasn’t sure he’d heard her right, but Gomez repeated herself, with Stevens behind her nodding in agreement.

“We want you to move the da Vinci into the hold of the Dancing Star.”

“So that you can then—”

“Dive into the nearest sun, yes.”

“Are you insane, Gomez?” He leveled a finger at Stevens. “You, I already know the answer. But you want me to take my ship into a sun? We’ll be incinerated in an instant!”

“No, we won’t, sir.” Stevens had that mad gleam in his eyes, the same one he got every time he played a practical joke—or came up with an amazing engineering trick. “The Dancing Star is built for this—it can dive into a star without being damaged.”

“In case you haven’t noticed, son, this isn’t the Dancing Star.”

“No, but that is.” Stevens stabbed his finger toward the viewscreen, which showed the Dancing Star sailing along beside them. “And its hold is big enough to fit this entire ship. Its shielding is designed to keep the heat and energy from bleeding into the inner compartments. Its crew survived sailing through a supernova, sir! We’ll be fine in there.”

Gold glanced at Gomez. “And you agree with this?”

She didn’t hesitate, which convinced him that either she was right or that she’d also gone mad. “Yes sir, I do. We can’t fight three Androssi at once, even with that ship, and we can’t outrun them without leaving the Dancing Star behind—and possibly being cut down anyway. This is our only option.”

He sighed. “You know, in the old days, I never had to worry about this kind of thing. I’d be sent to fight this ship or that one, or to carry this device from here to there, or to explore that area. No one ever asked me to fly into suns or through unstable rifts.”

“That’s true, sir,” Stevens replied, and the gleam intensified, “but you probably didn’t have nearly as much fun.”