Nai made the field again, a light touch to the interface. The 704 dove down the gradient of the star of Nuerjal's gravity well, ditching the enormous energy of her V-charged mass off on to the other side of the interstitial boundary between normal and hyperspace. What havoc it caused there, by the rules of that otherplace, weren't Nai's concern. Only he could guess better than most. He rode it till the V played out like fishing line on a reel. He could feel it. It stretched to breaking like a rubber band, and then he dropped it. Closed the field down. Dead cold.
The 704 appeared, dead-stop relative, two thousand klicks outward from Nuerjal's huge and modern orbital station. Nai looked at the chrons and smiled smugly to himself. Only eleven minutes fifteen seconds after the wave
