“Evasive maneuvers!” Harking ordered. “Vent the plasma collectors and get me some distance from that fleshpot.”

“Aye, sir.”

Eidolon systems flared to life. Slots on the dorsal and ventral surfaces of the ship slid open to expel the collected waste heat from the engines and the various radiation energies absorbed from the Wraith’s traversal through real space. The arms of the fleshpot hadn’t fully latched on, and those few that lingered immediately detached, burned, when the vented plasma touched them.

Harking had another thought. “Once we’re clear, go dark again, as dark as possible, and call up the tactical AI.”

“Sir! That’ll—”

“I’m well aware, but anyone listening to this part of space already knows we’re here — knew, in fact, the moment the Abattoir showed up.” One consequence of using the tactical AI was that it emitted an EM field easily visible to anyone looking for it — which is why they were almost never used. Harking hoped it would have the added benefit of keeping the Abattoir at bay.