*   *   *

“Everybody ready?” Sonya settled herself in the command chair, and Fabian had to suppress a wince. The last time a Starfleet officer sat in that chair, it was Salek. Fabian still remembered the sight of the Vulcan’s ashes piled on the cushion before he and Duffy piloted the Dancing Star into Randall V’s sun.

“All set here,” he replied from the tactical station.

“Ready, Commander,” Soloman called from the computer console.

“Good to go,” Pattie chimed in from navigation.

“Of course,” was Tev’s only reply from ops.

“Then let’s move some moonshine,” Sonya said with a smile. “Distance to firing point, Tev?”

“Point-zero-seven light-years,” came the immediate response.

“Current speed?”

“Warp one-point-one-five,” Pattie said.

“Time to Androssi arrival?”

Fabian checked his monitors. “Point-eight-nine hours.”

“Time to Cardienne, at estimated speed?”

“Point-eight-seven hours.”

Sonya sighed. “It’s going to be close. Tev, prepare to engage tractor beam, on my mark.”

“Ready, Commander.” It amazed Fabian that the Tellarite hadn’t insulted anyone all day. Maybe it’s his time of month, he thought wryly—and was glad he hadn’t said it out loud.

“And, three, two, one—mark.”

“Tractor beam engaged.”

“Changing course,” Pattie called out. “Speed dropping to warp one-point-zero-nine.”

“Release tractor beam—now!”

“Tractor beam released.”

“Now on course for Cardienne,” Pattie announced, antennae waving. “Speed at warp one-point-three-nine!”

“Congratulations, people,” Sonya said, leaning back in her chair. “It worked!”

“Yeah,” Fabian couldn’t resist adding, “those cops’ll never catch us now.”