Talia tuned them out. The Odyssey was tumbling, its main engine dead. She needed to match its erratic spin—not perfectly, but poetically. She fired the lateral thrusters in short, percussive bursts. Left, right, then a long, desperate burn that made the Skipper shudder like a dying animal.

The docking clamps on her hull extended. She had one chance.

“ Odyssey , this is Fleet Auxiliary Skipper . I’m coming in,” she said, her voice steadier than she felt.