REYNARD JUMPS FROM the transporter room. “Scott, I damaged the transporter.”

“It may not matter, Commander, if we don’t get power to hyper drive engines.” Scott bursts past.

“What help do you need?”

“Drag the cables while I connect them to the hyper drive. Chelsie, Amye, Doug, connect them so they reach the power cells in the forward section. We’ve got two minutes.”

Amye and Chelsie drag a cable toward the hidden door of the shuttle compartment.

“How will this work?”

“We’re bypassing whatever is preventing the power from reaching the hyper drive engines.” Amye drops the cable. “The crash caused a lot of damage.”

The smell of charred wires and smoke from an electrical fire hangs in the air. Chemical fire suppression foam covers most of the visible wires. Bent metal contorts out from the wall from an internal explosion.

“Smerth. The system couldn’t handle the redistribution of power.” Amye draws her knife. Before she pulls out some of the wires, she strips back some of the insulation to expose bare wires. “Follow the cable back and make sure all the couplings are secure.”

JC slides from Leeka’s quarters—without her headband—before switching places with Chelsie on the lift.

Scott attaches his end of the cable to the hyper drive systems. “Reynard! The engines are cooling. We don’t have time—”

Reynard understands, racing to the bridge. He grips his controls. “Athena, funnel any power left into the thrusters.” He stares into Australia’s sapphire eyes. “Do you have the jump coordinates locked in?”

She nods.

“Thirty-four seconds left.”

Amye hard wires the attachment clamps into the burnt wires. She scoops up the power cable. JC wraps her hand around the snaking tube. Before Amye protests, JC presses the tip of a medical syringe gun against Amye’s temple, flooding her system with a sedative.

“It always had to be this way,” JC says.

The Crimson Nova fires.

Reynard presses the hyperspace engine igniter.

Nothing.

The blast grows on the main view screen.

“You are condemning one of the crew,” Australia warns.

He keeps the button depressed. “One of us, or all of us.”

JC jams the plug into the socket. The junctions were never designed to be placed together while flowing with live power. Electrical lightning juts from the connector as the circuit completes, raining sparks through JC.

The restored energy ignites the hyper drive engines, and the Silver Dragon slips safely into hyperspace. Power fluctuates over the ship. Reynard holds her steady, leveling off: ensuring the rest of the trip through hyperspace will be smooth.

“Take the helm.” Reynard releases the joystick, resolving to keep his calm. He adjusts his gun belt. Squaring up his chest, he marches from the bridge.

The empty corridor gives him time to consider each and every member of his crew who were working to restore the engines. One of them was the last one to complete the connection.

The lift doors open. Two pairs of boots.

Reynard sees nothing but blind rage as Scott catches him.

“It’s not Amye,” Scott whispers.

Even worse.

Doug fondles the syringe gun. “JC drugged her in order to be the last person to make the connection. As if she smerth’n knew.”

“She did.”

“What about your medical tank?” Chelsie asks.

“Joe’s healing in it,” Doug says.

“The burns have rendered the bacterium useless,” Scott says.

“She gave her life for us.” Reynard slips JC’s pendant from his pocket. He squeezes it tight, imprinting the image into his palm. JC’s last thoughts burst into his mind. This was how it was supposed to end—my Admiral.