There are things you never really appreciate until you’ve lost them. Or, in Sarett’s case, almost lost. Bedridden for months and the mostly-willing participant in more surgeries than she could count, the novelty of being able to stand up on her own again still had not entirely lost its shine. She raised her left arm and rubbed at the scars around her eye with the ceramic thumb of her artificial hand, a gesture she’d picked up during therapy and had developed, now, into an almost subconscious reaction. Or, at least, something she did when there was more than usual on her mind. With an effort, Sarett caught herself and lowered her arm, wrapping her fingers around a railing. 

[i]Artemis[/i] was in an orbit the proscribed distance from Attica Station, ‘behind’ the installation in its orbital path. The ship’s bow was pointed just to the side of the station, which meant that Sarett had a breathtaking view through the command deck’s thick transparent forward plating. They were coming over the terminator and she could see the planet below, daubed with lapis oceans, they coasts marked with circular bays carved in continental shelves from orbital bombardments. The night side showed the spray of lights from the world’s single surviving city, along with the bright, ragged ribbons of fires that had been burning for a decade, and would burn for decades more. It was all so abstract, almost beautiful from 2800 kilometers. Ahead, If Sarett looked closely, she thought she could just see the tight cluster of lights another fifty kilometers out, more or less exactly according to the ship’s laser rangefinder. That would, of course, be the [i]Perseus[/i].

Sarett felt a sensation she still wasn’t entirely used to yet, the request for someone else to enter her mind. It had taken a few days, but she and Ava had managed to work out a protocol that didn’t make Sarett’s skin crawl or startle her to the point where she jumped out of her shoes. Part of that had just been time - cybernetics weren’t uncommon among the Empire’s ranks, but there were almost no officers with quite so much equipment shoved in their body, so many machines sharing space in their head. With a thought, Sarett allowed the connection.

“They’re tagging us again,” Ava said in Sarett’s mind, “If I were to guess, someone on the [i]Perseus[/i] is trying to find my return sensor with their rangefinder’s laser, see if they can burn it out with a straight shot down the optic.” Her voice was crisp, lightly touched with an accent Sarett couldn’t place. Arabic, maybe? 

“Are they close?” Sarett thought. Another bridge officer walked toward her carrying an infopad, handed it over with a nod.

“Not even a little bit,” Ava said, was there smugness in her voice? “They've managed a straight shot down a hull inspection camera - with the shutter closed. I'm going to guess that means they don’t have my plans.”

“And we don’t have the [i]Perseus’[/i] either,” thought Sarett, “That puts us on even ground. Sort of.”

The infopad was a status report from Tolliver, meticulous and almost over-detailed, but she had discovered rather quickly that was something to be expected. There would probably be a time that amount of information would be useful, but damned if she couldn’t figure out what it would be. The exact neutrino emission from the fusion core, the status of the ship’s ablative thruster armor, the exact rad count and tritium storage levels on each of the ship’s fusion warheads - Sarett scrolled through dense pages of information, her finger clicking on the info pad’s screen. She had read the first report, she really had - and she had also noticed that every report thereafter contained the same information, and that it did not change meaningfully from day to day. It made Tolliver happy to know, though, and for the moment the crew seemed happy enough to report that information. If nothing else, it made sure that people actually did visit every part of the ship regularly.

There was an addendum about the negotiations, which in contrast contained almost no information. The doors were still locked, the talks presumably ongoing. Nobody had any reason to believe that it would end any time soon, and there was some speculation that both sides may have walked into the negotiation room with briefcases full of stims. Sarett wondered if a peace treaty written under the influence of spray-injected drugs could be legally binding.

“Captain, we’ve got fighters and suits on approach to the hangar,” said Lieutenant Carys Myles, her voice touched by a Welsh accent.

“Let’s get them landed and put away,” Sarett said, “We have an advanced sensor pod on one of the fighters in the next flight?”

“Aye, the first ship out,” Myles said.

“Good. Maybe we can get some deep data on the Perseus - or maybe even find out if they’re still alive at the negotiation table.” Sarett said. She touched her finger to the infopad, acknowledging receipt, and handed it to another crewman, who left.

Myles turned her head away from her display for a moment, “Begging your pardon, Ma’am, but…Consul Nagwen’s ship?”

“A cat can look at a king, Lieutenant” Sarett said, wrapping her hands around the railing again, “So can 500 kilos of silicon and glass. If we’re wasting this much time, we may as well find some way to waste it productively. I’ll damn well put every mass sensor, every gravity wave observer and interferometer out there I can.”

“No active sweeps, then?” Myles said, and Sarett saw her shoulders relax.

“Not unless we have to. Make sure they keep the system charged and the transceiver active, though.” Sarett said, “If something happens, I want to know where every person is inside that ship.”

“Aye,” Myles said, and started tapping at her control panel, pulling a microphone close to her mouth.

Ava’s voice flitted though her head, “Commander Flynn would like me to remind you that you’ve missed your last two appointments.”

Sarett fought to resist the urge to wave a hand in dismissal, “I’ve been busy."

“And he understands that, but your implants will need checking and adjusting for the next few months at least. He needs some diagnostic data, and the only way he can get it is if you stop by so he can actually get that information.” Ava paused, then said, “Unless you’d like me to collect it, and forward the data on to him.”

“I don’t think we’re at that point in our relationship yet,” Sarett thought, and she couldn’t keep the tug of a smirk off her face, “Wait a minute, can you really do that?”

“I think so,” Ava said, “Although I’m not entirely sure if I can do it without shutting down the neural bridge interface.”

Sarett managed a mental sigh, which she was rather proud of, “Yeah, Flynn can’t do that either. Tell him I’ll see him after we get the pilots rotated.”

“Promise?” Ava said, and her voice held a tone that Sarett hadn’t heard for a long time. It made her smile.

“All right, all right.” Sarett thought.

“You also have a letter from Lara,” Ava said, “But I’m going to keep it until you see the doctor.”

“I could order you to hand it over,” Sarett's thoughts came with the mental equivalent of an arched eyebrow.

Ava’s voice was perky, bordering on insouciant, “But you won’t,” she said.

She was right. At least, for now.