Four hours had passed since they fled. Four hours since the Imperium's boarding pods had slammed against the hull. Four hours since Maya vanished. The Peregrine hummed at a frequency The Hearth never achieved. A low, structural thrum vibrated through the deck plates and into the soles of Lin's boots. At The Hearth, silence had been engineered; a curated absence of noise, the hum of scrubbers and recyclers working in perfect, predictable harmony. It was the sound of safety. Here, in the deep v...