“Confirmed Dunkerque! The Sentinel is operational! We–” The Argent transmission was overwhelmed by a surge of electronic noise.

For a soundless moment, Captain Cerylia L’Orleans and Commander Toby DeMay stared at each other, their respective tactical and strategic minds coming to exactly opposite conclusions.

“We’ve got to take out that gun,” DeMay announced. He moved quickly to man the bridge engineering station.

“You don’t have the firepower or the standoff capability for that kind of assault, Commander,” L’Orleans replied. “And neither do we. Get your crew and join us aboard my corsair. We can approach that battle station by stealth and get you on the ground without firing a shot.”

“I’m not abandoning my command,” DeMay snapped, eyes intent on his engineering readouts.

“You were sent on a desperation mission that could only succeed against an abandoned or inactive installation. If that thing is operational, it will swat you out of space like an insect the moment you reach the perimeter. It’s a suicide run, Commander.”

DeMay looked up. “Are you asking me to trust you? I still have a wound on my neck from our first meeting.” His expression was as deadpan as he could make it. For all he knew, that Sentinel was already lining up a shot at his engine room, or worse.

L’Orleans walked across the bridge with a determined expression and stopped inches from her opposite number. Her bearing was unmistakable. She was a woman used to being listened to and unaccustomed to being doubted. Her eyes burned as she replied.

“I’m asking you if you want to be alive when this mission is over, Commander. And I only ask those kinds of questions once. You don’t have the manpower to put this ship in the fight and you know it. If you want to hurl yourself on your sword out of some misguided sense of duty, I’m not going to stop you. I’m also not going to stand here and be a target while you do it.”

DeMay watched as the pirate captain produced a commlink. “Notify Small Bird to lay in an evasive course for Point Bronco. Energize cloak and have the Master of the Ship make provision for ten–”

“Hostages,” DeMay finished for her. Cerylia smiled sweetly and reactivated her commlink.

"–guests. Condor out.”

Toby didn’t react. He looked like a man trying desperately not to betray his anxiety at making the decision to violate Skywatch regulations and abandon his command. Without breaking eye contact with Captain L’Orleans, he activated the intraship.

“All hands, this is the Captain. Rendezvous on Deck Three starboard and prepare to abandon ship.” He let go of the transmit button with an angry flourish. “And I just ended my career.”

“Negative, Commander,” L’Orleans replied as she holstered her commlink. “You just guaranteed yourself a fighting chance to see those gold maple leaves turn silver some day.”