Only Hyperion was turning out to be a trap, not refuge. With Cartel and Federation ships alike spread out in a filter-screen across the void, there'd be no chance for this lone Independent ship to land or hide there.
Unless—
Boone all at once was rigid. "Captain," he asked, "could you run to Uranus?"
"Uranus—!" The wizened officer swung, stared at him. "Are you crazy, man? Why would anyone in his right mind want to go there?"
"That's not the question. Could you make it?"
The other's eyes narrowed. "Yes. I suppose so."
"And could you think up a reason for it—some excuse that the Fedfleet might find convincing?"
"Maybe."
Boone drew in a breath. "Then start getting your story together." He strode to the screen, traced a course with his finger. "If you arc it right, we'll pass through Hyperion's field of attraction. When that happens, you can shoot a handful of us down in carriers without even stopping. You'll take the ship on towards Uranus. The Federation, the Cartel, won't even know we've left you."