up in bed quickly, scrubbing sleep from his eyes, and hit the acceptance key, then straightened as he recognized Yanakov. The Grayson admiral was bare-chested under a bathrobe, and his sleep-puffy eyes were bright.
“Sorry to wake you, Raoul.” His soft Grayson accent was clipped. “Tracking just picked up a hyper footprint thirty light-minutes from Yeltsin. A big one.”
“Masada?” Courvosier asked sharply.
“We don’t know yet, but they’re coming in from oh-oh-three oh-niner-two. That’s certainly right for a straight-line course from Endicott.”
“What do you have on impeller signatures?”
“That’s mighty far out for us.” Yanakov sounded a bit embarrassed. “We’re trying to refine our data, but—"
“Pass the locus to Commander Alvarez,” Courvosier interrupted. “Madrigal’s sensor suite is better than anything you’ve got. Maybe he can refine it for you.”
“Thank you. I hoped you’d say that.” Yanakov sounded so grateful Courvosier frowned in genuine surprise.
“You didn’t let that asshole Houseman make you think I wouldn’t?”
“Well, no, but we’re not officially allied, so if you—"
“Just because we don’t have a piece of paper doesn’t mean you and I aren’t aware