[The woman gives him a curt nod, but doesn't move from where she's steadying herself off the solid back of the pilot's seat. Far behind her, the Empress must not be very reassured by what he says: at least, she doesn't sway back the half degree she's leaned forward to watch, the coins braided into her pale hair glinting in the running lights of the ship and her gaze still intent. Thrum, thrum, thrum, the sensation of danger lurks heavy.]

Of course. [The woman in the cockpit nods, understanding.] And we thank you. But I'm afraid my Empress insists - is there no scan you can do to be certain if another of your ships has made it clear?