“Permission to speak freely, ma’am.”

“Granted.”

“With respect, I knew we left this sector too quickly the first time around. We can’t just blow it off now. Those readings have to be investigated.”

“It could be anything, pilot.”

“Or, it could be exactly what Calvin’s battle computer says it is. If a rogue mine hit us with SRS reflections, then there’s something active in that asteroid field and we should check it out.”

Captain Islington headed off her instinct to dismiss her pilot’s concerns. The most recent intelligence putting two battlegroups in the area had to be a higher priority. Nevertheless, Minstrel didn’t work that way. Finn McCampbell was many things, but he wasn’t impulsive nor was he the type of officer to approach things frantically. He had mastered the starship’s flight envelope to the point where he could do things with the agile little escort frigate that would quite literally tie other ships and crews in knots. His entire Skywatch record could be distilled to the word “dedicated.” He wasn’t the kind of officer smart captains ignored.

“The Sentinel emplacement was destroyed before we were assigned to Sector Two,” Islington said. “Scorpion One-Three was shot to pieces by massed Paladin attacks. We knew there was a better-than-average chance of active mines out there.”

“Still–”

“What’s got you so spooked, pilot?” The timbre of the captain’s voice changed subtly. It was smoother and even a little chilling. The unspoken tone of the question told Finn he had her full attention, and now even the captain’s curiosity was piqued. Her intent gaze would have been more than a little unsettling for anyone but her own bridge crew. What Lieutenant McCampbell knew better than most was that particular look in Islington’s eyes. Once Minstrel’s skipper got hold of a problem, it was bound to be left in one of two conditions: Solved or torn in half.

“Okay, consider this. We almost lost Argent and Exeter at X-Ray Tango because we weren’t looking for another base. It found us first. They tried to misdirect our fire control but the truth is if it weren’t for some fast thinking and some pretty heroic flying by Argent’s bomber squadrons, we could have been badly hurt.”

“Agreed.”

“So we hit both bases and moved on to Bayone, following the trail back to Atwell’s bigger base and managed to upset the Sarn in the process. With everyone watching Bayone and trying to survive whatever else we kicked up rescuing the Saratoga, nobody was paying any attention to the minefield. Nobody was watching X-Ray Tango any more.”

“And you think Atwell took advantage of that?”

“What better place to hide your strength than in the last place any of us would look? Nobody expected we’d be back out here sniffing around Dante’s Twins. That was Commander Hunter’s call, and it was a good one. What if Atwell established a third base inside that minefield, and what if it was the source of that probe?”

“Walsh is still livid over the fact we lost it in the EM interference from that solar flare,” Ensign Grant added.

“XO, what was the probe’s last known position and course?” Islington asked without looking up.

“One Seven Zero, ma’am. At a relative position 44 light hours from the Twins.”

The look on McCampbell’s face said it all.

“Cal, project the probe’s location against a look-down map of the long-course waypoints around the interdiction zone.”

The tactical projection appeared on Minstrel’s main viewscreen. The probe’s avatar was directly in the center of the display, with the waypoint located in the lower right-hand corner next to the last known position of the Scorpion One-Three Sentinel emplacement.

“Now project a linear course.”

A yellow line extended from the probe directly along a vector crossing the true coordinates circle at one hundred seventy degrees. It indicated the probe would cross the minefield, but would not intercept any of the labeled waypoints.

“Now correct for navigational hazards and the gravity well from the Twins.”

The line adjusted from a straight course to a shallow parabolic. It shifted to the right just enough to directly intersect waypoint X-Ray Tango.

“Mary and Joseph,” Lieutenant Winchester exhaled.

Captain Islington swiveled her conn chair to face the tactical station. “Cal, are you absolutely sure that signal intercept was an SRS harmonic? Was there something out there trying to target us for range?”

Ensign Grant nodded soberly. “Aye, captain. I’d stake my next paycheck on it.”

“So, a minimal bet, then?” Winchester quipped with a grin. Grant rolled his eyes.

Rebecca chuckled. “Alright, boys. You've convinced me. Signals, open a coded channel to Rhode Island. Get me Commander Walsh.”