Details matter

Eris preened at the praise, her quicksilver form rippling in pleased undulations. "The Zenthari will release all cryo-pods simultaneously to avoid suspicion." Her ocular displays flickered with schematics of the orbital track's underbelly. "They store the pods here—directly beneath Scanner 49's relay nexus."

Susan studied the diagrams, her fingers twitching with the urge to adjust phantom flight controls. "And the racers? They'll notice sixty 'death' alerts popping off at once."

"Not if they're busy surviving this." Eris's fingers danced across the projection, overlaying a new trajectory—a hairpin turn through a debris field that hadn't been on the official schematics. Adam's eyebrows climbed his forehead as the simulation played out: pods shearing apart, engines overheating, at least three midair collisions.