The moment of weightlessness, as the Abilene and its contents spun around her, seemed to last for hours, time and space stretching out around her, matter dissolving into streaks of ephemeral light, until in a moment of dawning terror Haas became convinced she was about to meet the same fate as Officer Alvizo. She was coming apart. It should hurt shouldn't it? Atom by atom, her body was fading from her awareness and there was nothing she could do about it. The roar of the HD engines as they reached full power at last, and her sudden, painful re-acquaintance with gravity felt like being washed ashore after a storm. She hit the galley floor with a cry, half of pain and half of relief. Rolling back on to her feet, she stumbled through the scattered contents of the galley's cupboards, for the forward section of the ship and the Abilene's cramped flight deck.

With the HD blinds still down, and the ship still hurtling through HD space it was impossible to know their direction of travel, but the lurching in her stomach as she struggled to climb in to the pilot's seat, told her they were spinning wildly. As good a pilot as she was, in this kind of situation Louie was better, but she had docked with the Laurentic under manual control. The Abilene's auto pilot was off.

"Louie, get us level." She yelled, flicking the old fashioned toggle switch on the pilot's console, giving the AI control.

"Firing port stabilisers." The AI confirmed, and Haas felt the instant pressure of deceleration, pressing her in to her seat. The bullet wound to her right arm throbbed.

"Get us to the nearest gate," she ordered. "Before we crash in to something."

Louie didn't get the chance to confirm the order, because just at that moment they did crash into something.

Haas heard it before she felt it; a thunderous clang, that set the whole hull vibrating like the surface of a great bell. She tried to brace herself, as the impact threw her sideways, but still reeling from their plunge through HD space, her reactions were too slow. Her left shoulder collided hard with the pilot's flight console, sending sparks fizzing past her face, and not only from the control panel. The power to her arm sputtered and died.

"Not now!" She scrambled for the reset switch in the crease of her elbow, but that was dead too. She could try it a second time, but her attention was being monopolised by much bigger problems. The initial impact had been sudden and violent, but it was nothing compared to the long drawn out screech as whatever it was they'd hit scraped it's way along the top of the Abilene's hull. Her chair bucked beneath her, as the object hit something substantial, the sensors in the seat's base triggering the auto-harness to engage, pulling her hard into the backrest, squeezing the breath from her lungs. Behind her, the flight deck door automatically slammed shut and the air-lock bolts rammed home. That sound only meant one thing. They had a hull breach.

"What the hell Louie?" She yelled.

The impact had slowed the Abilene considerably but she didn't need the flight data screen to tell her they were once again tumbling out of control. The force of the spin pushed her into the left side of her seat, crushing her ribs against the hard metal of her ruined prosthetic. A dull, throbbing pain was beginning to coalesce behind her eyes. She tried to concentrate on the flight controls, to recall her training, anything that meant she didn't have to think about exactly how much of her ship was left, beyond the now sealed flight deck door.

"We are no longer in HD space." Louie finally announced. "We appear to have hit something."

"No shit!" She snapped back. Louie's previously reassuring calmness was now just infuriating. "Why are you not correcting?"

"We have wiring damage and shorts throughout the ship," Louie reported. "I still have HD control and the main engines are still functional but stabiliser jets are currently on manual control only." He said.

"Great." Haas strained against the auto-harness. The straps bit painfully into her damaged shoulder, but eventually she was able to reach the centre console with her right hand and flip on the manual over-ride. The pilot's yoke descended from the overhead console and she grasped it, relieved to feel the smart-grip automatically adjust to her fingers. The more systems that still worked, the more chance she had to get to safety. The controls for the stabilisers were situated at the base of the yoke. Starboard first, and then port, like the keys on the body of a saxophone. She gave the starboard one a delicate jab with her middle finger. Their spin slowed but didn't stop. She was still being forced painfully in to one side of her seat, but a more sustained burst on the stabilisers would risk sending them in to a spin in the opposite direction. As desperate as the situation was she'd have to take it slow.

"Louie, were we hit by the Laurentic?" She asked, teasing another burst of power from the starboard stabilisers.

"Unknown, Commander." Louie responded. "I am unable to establish contact with the Flight Data Recorder."

The Abilene's spin had decreased further. It was now down to a more gentle roll. More tolerable, but still dangerous. The pressure forcing Haas into one side of her seat had eased off considerably, and she wriggled back into a more comfortable position.

"Could it have been damaged?" She asked.

There was a pause. Lights flashed on and off on the control panels.

"That would be unlikely, Commander." Louie said, his diagnostic analysis complete. "We were struck from above and ahead. The Flight Data Recorder is stored beneath the aft cargo hold."

Probably something had just been shaken loose, Haas thought, as the Abilene finally began drifting back towards a normal flight orientation. They had taken quite a hit after all.

"What about the rest of the ship?" She asked. There was a sour taste in her mouth and a horrible tightness in the pit of her stomach. It could have been the effects of the spin. More likely it was fear. She knew the answer to her own question before Louie responded. It was there, in the sealed flight deck door, looming behind her like an accusation, a giant exclamation point at the end of her career, and even possibly the end of her life.

"We have a hull breach below the upper gun deck." Louie was explaining. "Weapons control is non-operational and environmental and communications systems have been compromised. I am currently unable to re-pressurise the damaged compartment or send a distress signal."

Haas found her gaze drifting towards the ceiling. The upper gun deck was only a few meters away, above the galley, and right behind the flight deck's bulkhead. No wonder Louie had activated the airlock doors so fast.

"What about damage to the ops room?"

Louie didn't immediately answer, and in the pause she felt a cold prickle of sweat in the small of her back.

"Readings suggest all other bulkheads are secure." The AI's voice was impassive but to Haas it felt like all the colour had just returned to the room. The mysterious book, which Sewati had passed to her the night before should still be safely hidden in the evidence locker. "Air pressure in the ops room is normal." Louie was continuing with his damage report. "And I detect breathable air in the bunk room and cargo bay."

"Is there any way to re-route the air from those compartments to the flight deck?"

"Negative, Commander. You must land before flight deck air and emergency oxygen tanks are depleted."

"Wonderful," Haas sighed.

Due to a lack of space, the Abilene's flight deck was not equipped with emergency pressure suits. They were stored next to the cargo bay airlock, at the rear of the ship, and each one came with a built in air supply good enough for a couple of hours. With no way to reach them though she would be reliant on what air she had and the flight deck's emergency supply, which amounted to two small tanks containing thirty minutes of breathable air each. Louie was right, she needed to land, and fast.

Landing. There was another challenge. There were only a few orbital stations on the Spur, and the chances of them being anywhere near one were slim. Planets by comparison were ten a penny. They weren't all habitable, but a surprising number of them were, so even with a hole in the hull they weren't completely out of luck yet.

"Louie, do we still have enough power for magshields?" She asked.

"Yes Commander. The HD drive was undamaged in the impact."

"That's good." Haas relaxed a little into her seat.

The magshields would maintain what hull integrity they had left during an atmospheric entry, but in all her time with the Regulators, Haas had never attempted a planetary landing with a holed ship. What a day to be trying something new.

"Louie, let's see where we are," she said. "Open the blinds please."

The flight deck's blinds operated just like their domestic namesakes, but only the truly eccentric would want a set hanging above their lounge windows. Unlike the opulent blinds on the Laurentic, the Abilene's more functional version were a shade of dull brown that even the most style-challenged of Admiralty pilots objected to, and the sound of each blade as it retracted into the bulkhead was unsettling, like being awoken in the dead of night by the long, drawn out hiss of a Molnean Constrictor. After hours staring at nothing but a blank brown square, being able to see the stars again was frequently a cause for celebration amongst Admiralty crews.

There was a thump as Louie released the clamps holding the blinds in place. Haas gritted her teeth. Considering the way her luck had been running, the entire flight deck could have fallen apart at that point and she would not have been surprised. But the Abilene stayed in one piece and the blinds retracted with their familiar, sinister hiss.

"Well, there's a sight for sore eyes." Haas allowed herself a brief smile as the lights on the flight deck dimmed automatically, and one by one a multitude of stars blinked into view beyond the windows.

"Louie, is there any chance we left HD space through the M'Nean Gate?" She asked.

"Unlikely Commander." Louie's response was immediate and absolute. "I detect no M'Nean ships in the area or any M'Nean transmissions of any kind."

The impact that had holed their hull must have thrown them out of HD space mid-lane, before they'd reached the M'Nean gate. Haas had never heard of that happening. HD space didn't follow the normal rules of time, space and distance. That's why it worked, and that's why its use was strictly controlled. All ships stuck to the shipping lanes, otherwise you could end up just about anywhere, including materialising inside a planet. The Abilene had avoided that fate, but they were still in unknown space, or at least horribly lost. Haas gazed out of the window. It was a wonderous sight, so many stars, so many worlds. But right now she only needed one, and a surge of familiar excitement provided a welcome distraction from the cause of their current predicament.

"You up for a little competition Louie?" She asked.

"Certainly, Commander."

The Abilene's targeting array flickered on, a bright grid of red squares overlaying the flight deck's windows. Haas started scanning down each column. She'd need to be quick if she was going to beat the AI.

"Shall we say on a count of three?" Louie was nothing if not unfailingly polite. And horribly naive.

"Sure Louie." She said, already on her second square. "You count down if you like."

Louie obliged, which meant Haas was already on her third square by the time he started scanning. The next few minutes passed in frantic silence, with Haas acutely aware of every oxygen diminishing breath she took, but ultimately her head start against Louie was for nothing. She had been taught to read star fields by her father, one of the Admiralty's most accomplished cartographers, but no human could beat an AI.

"Commander, I have located a life compatible planet," Louie announced, with what sounded to Haas like barely concealed pride.

One of the squares in the targeting array flashed green.

"I'll win one day, Louie," Haas muttered. "Expand target area please."

Louie complied and the targeting array disappeared as the view zoomed in on the selected square. One of the distant, golden lights was slightly bigger than the rest. Unlike the stars, which twinkled through the vast clouds of interstellar dust and debris that separated them from the Abilene's external scope, this object was pale and dull. It was reflecting light, not producing it, the fuzziness of it's outline holding out the slimmest hope of a breathable atmosphere. It was a planet, perhaps as close as Mars was to the Earth, and it was passing to the Abilene's port side, drifting slowly across the background field of stars.

"Louie, tell me that rock is habitable," Haas said.

"One moment Commander." The AI responded. "I'm calculating our location."

It wouldn't take long for Louie to analyse the background of stars but Haas wasn't about to wait for the answer. The distant planet was currently her best chance of survival. If there was nothing else within range of their sub-light engines there was little hope of a passing ship finding them before their air ran out. She nudged the yoke, to bring the unknown planet back to the centre of the Abilene's field of view.

"Commander." Louie had completed his analysis and there was a note of trepidation in his voice. "Would you like the good news, or the bad news?"

"The good, Louie." She said, without a second thought. "Right now I need the good news."

"The good news is long range censors suggest the planet does indeed have a breathable atmosphere."

"Yes!" Haas punched the release button on her auto-harness in celebration and was rewarded with a fresh stab of pain from the bullet graze to her right arm. "Lay in a course Louie and find us a place to land."

"Before I do that, would you like to hear the bad news?"

Haas figured her day wasn't likely to get any worse. She had not only managed to lose a foreign dignitary and friend, but she'd also succeeded in getting herself framed for his murder. There was probably a court of inquiry in her future, at the very least there would be a mountain of paperwork and weeks of hostile interviewing from Admiralty Legal. Compared to all that, how bad could the bad news be? She took a deep breath, and told Louie to let her have it.

"If my calculations are correct Commander, the Solarian designation for this planet is Pavonis b. I believe the locals refer to it as Ierus."

"That's not funny Louie." Haas muttered.

"I realise this must come as a disappointment." Louie said, as if he were on the cusp of breaking up with her. "But my analysis of the local star fields is correct. We are indeed inside the Pavonis Lazaretto."

The Pavonis Lazaretto. Three little words guaranteed to make most law abiding pilots, hell anyone who preferred to keep breathing, turn their ship around and head in exactly the opposite direction. Even the Regulators didn't cross the border. A combination of official orders and the combined testimony of those pilots who'd returned from the sector during the plague years, Haas among them, had kept them out. As a result the Lazaretto, which covered a half dozen habitable worlds, was now beyond the law, offering criminals both enterprising and desperate enough to ignore the quarantine order, the chance to operate inside the Lazaretto with almost complete impunity. Even if the smugglers didn't happily shoot you out of the sky, and the Hadari Peacekeepers, who patrolled strategically important parts of the border, didn't find some flimsy excuse to impound your ship before you made it to the surface of a habitable planet, there was a still the slim possibility you could catch some horrible, skin melting disease. A dozen ships had crashed in the Lazaretto since the quarantine order went up fifteen years ago. As far as she knew, the crews, if they had survived at all, were still there. Rescue was considered out of the question. No-one with any sense, or voters to answer to, wanted to be responsible for causing another outbreak of Pavonovirus on the Spur. Of course there were a few do-gooders who insisted the quarantine could be lifted, that the border leaked like a sieve anyway, and that all reports suggested the Lazaretto was now safe, but they all lived well outside the quarantined zone. Until one of them practiced what they preached, upped sticks and moved to the Lazaretto, no-one was going to take them seriously.

"Louie, is there anywhere else we could land?" Haas asked, even though she knew damn well there wasn't.

"Negative Commander. The nearest accessible HD gate is over a day away at sub-light speed. It would take five hours to reach the nearest Circinian outpost. The air supply on the flight deck will run out in less than 90 minutes."

"And the flight time to Ierus is?"

"Two hours and eighteen minutes, Commander. If my estimates of oxygen levels are correct you will need to use the emergency tanks"

The emergency oxygen canisters were stowed beneath the pilot and co-pilot's seats. If she used both they would give her another hour of breathable air, tops. At sub-light speed that would be cutting it fine. But her only chance of staying alive was to get on the ground, even if that meant little chance of rescue. She'd be stuck, inside the Lazaretto, with no way back, no way to clear her name, and no way to find out who'd set her up. It was a crummy choice, and a stew of anger and frustration was beginning to bubble in her gut, but it was the only option she had.

Haas felt something sting her eyes and realised it was tears. She's hadn't cried since she'd lost her arm. Bizarrely, the memory of her last cup of coffee sprang to mind. Rich, bitter, stimulating, yet soothing. It would probably be the last of the real thing she would get to experience for a long time.

"Oh well, in for a penny, in for a pound." She wiped her sleeve across her face. Louie might only be a sophisticated computer, but she still didn't want him to see her cry. Reaching across the pilot's flight console, she disabled the manual control. The pilot's yoke sank back in to its housing.

"Plot a course for Ierus, Louie," she said "Take us in, fast and easy."