Juno proves the distress signal is a pirate lure tied to a stolen registry squawk. Kael refuses the illegal first...
The distress pulse blinked inside Iron Hallow's defense cone every nine seconds, clean as a metronome and wrong enough to make Juno Pax's fingers shake above the sensor glass. Outside the bridge canopy, Ashgate debris flashed past in silver streaks. Four ore barges held tight in the carrier's wake shadow, their hazard tanks one bad turn from scattering fines and poison through the lane.
"Medical skiff beacon," the convoy captain said over comm. "Iron Hallow, you are obligated to assist."
Senn Orbit did not look away from the helm cage. "Assist means turn, turn means burn, burn means we coast home on prayers."
Kael Veyr watched the cone overlay rotate with the carrier's slow drift. Civilian escort rules glowed on the side panel: no first fire, no pursuit beyond logged range, defensive action only under documented threat.
Juno swallowed. "The squawk is stolen."
That changed every face on the bridge.
Tavia Renn moved closer, the crew compact slate braced against her hip. "Say that where the convoy can hear."
Juno opened the shared channel before fear could stop her. "Distress source repeats a registry checksum from a skiff decommissioned six months ago. Signal strength is too smooth for debris interference. It is not tumbling. It is parked."
The ore captain snapped back, "Or your apprentice is saving fuel by leaving wounded people to die."
Juno flinched.
Kael cut in. "Captain, hold formation. We will verify by drone ping without leaving the convoy."
"You have launch rails locked."
"Sensor drone on tether," Juno said quickly. "Short throw from the maintenance blister. I can bounce a ping."
Mara Quell broke in from engineering. "That blister has a cracked outer latch."
"I know," Juno said.
Kael heard the cost underneath the answer. A tethered drone was not a button press. Someone had to put it in a blister that might not seal right, while the carrier moved through a debris tide.
Tavia looked at him. "Crew risk requires compact acknowledgment."
"Acknowledged," Kael said. "Ask it."
The vote was not about glory. Juno stated the job herself, voice thin but steady: one tethered sensor drone, no launch rail draw, no rescue turn unless the ping showed a real hull or life heat. The crew approved by a margin that sounded like teeth grinding.
Orin Vale stepped to the old manual weapons panel again. "While the child sticks her hand outside, I want point-defense warm."
Tavia snapped, "No weapons activation."
"Warm is not fire," Orin said. "Cold guns answer nothing."
Kael held up a hand before the argument split. "Manual point-defense can spool capacitors only if locked to debris intercept, not target tracking. Mara?"
"Capacitors can take warm," Mara said. "Barrel One only. If he tries to swing toward the pulse, I cut the bus."
Orin's mouth twitched. "Fair."
That was the exchange that changed the bridge. Orin was no longer a drunk witness with opinions; he had accepted a leash in public. Tavia marked the limit, and Kael gained one more tool without stealing the compact's authority.
Juno's drone left the blister on a cable no thicker than Kael's thumb. The feed trembled through static. It showed debris dust, then a dark cylinder clamped to an old cargo rib, broadcasting distress from a stolen registry core. No skiff. No heat. No bodies.
"False distress confirmed," Juno said.
The cylinder split open.
A targeting flash washed the sensor board. Senn threw Iron Hallow two degrees down without a burn, using mass and drift instead of fuel. A missile track woke beyond the fake beacon and streaked toward the rear ore barge.
"Incoming from outside cone," Orin said. His hands hovered over Barrel One, waiting.
"Not fired at us yet," Tavia warned.
Kael's throat tightened. If he ordered fire early, Damen and Glasswake would have the violation they wanted. If he waited too long, the barge died.
The missile crossed into the logged defense cone and painted Iron Hallow's transponder as obstruction.
"Now," Kael said.
Orin slammed the manual trigger.
Nothing happened.
For half a second, the old carrier remained a dead monument around them. Then Mara cursed through engineering comm, metal shrieked somewhere below, and Barrel One woke with a single brutal cough. Point-defense rounds stitched across the cone and broke the missile into hot fragments that rang against Iron Hallow's port armor.
The ore captain's voice came back small. "Escort action logged."
Juno shouted over him. "Second contact! Corvette profile, fast flank burn. Registry squawk says Redledger."
On the display, the pirate corvette slid out from behind the false beacon, missile racks open, daring the carrier to chase beyond its lawful range.
Kael looked at the fuel margin, the cone edge, the locked guns, and the convoy still tucked behind his damaged hull.
"Hold formation," he said. "Let Redledger choose whether it wants a witness or a kill."
The corvette answered by firing first at the nearest ore barge, and Iron Hallow's one awake barrel began to turn.