Red Star (The Triple Stars, Volume 2)

They'd depleted the vessel's energy hull completely, and he'd had a clear missile shot well-inside any sensible metaspace jump boundary.
Then the instruction had come to him from Secundus Godel. She was not in-system; the Storm Gatherer was across the galaxy, far away, but her words had been sharp in his mind. As they always were.
“Do no destroy Lagan's ship. Hit it with the AI incursion device that you are armed with, then let it go.”
“Lagan and his whore are no longer on board; they fled into the atmosphere of the planet.”
“There is still much that we can learn from their vessel, perhaps more so now they are not there. Their ship intrigues me; it appears to have capabilities we do not understand. Follow your orders, then return to the planet to watch for the heretics in case they do re-emerge.
“Secundus.” Kane wondered, briefly, what it was that Godel hoped to learn from the Radiant Dragon. The location of the Refuge? They had searched in vain for Ondo's hideaway. It puzzled him why the Augurs were going to so much trouble: if the Refuge was that important, why had Omn chosen not to reveal its location?
It made little sense to Kane, and a strange surge of anger trickled through him. But, immediately, it defocussed and slipped away, and he returned to following his orders.

3. The Dust of Shattered Worlds
The grip of a hand on her wrist returned Selene to consciousness. Her suit calmly reported that its oxygen reserves were too low to be measured. The monitoring flecks in her brain stated the same situation with her bloodstream. She was on the point of death from asphyxia. This time, the desperate stab of panic that cut through her as her tissues screamed for air was muted. Her body was giving up.
She'd lost consciousness for four minutes after her efforts of reaching the skull. The ground beneath her back was the familiar bed of dust, moulded to the contours of her body, embracing her as if already claiming her. She still had the nightmares about Maes Far: of wading through the thick layer of grit, ash and bone in search of something that she couldn't find, couldn't name. Of grasping hands scrabbling out of the detritus to seize her, pull her under. All that order and structure and beauty reduced to lifeless dust beneath her feet.
No, she wasn't dead. Not yet. She was a long, long way from Maes Far. With a gasp of revulsion, she forced herself to full consciousness. In her clenched left fist, she still held the glass bead that had cost her so much to retrieve. Even to her enhanced touch it felt completely smooth.
She flickered her eyes open to see who had come for her. It had to be Ondo, miraculously restored to health. She wondered how such a thing was possible. But no, it wasn't him; the figure was surely too tall. Detail was hard to make out: either her eyes were malfunctioning, or light from somewhere was blinding her. She perceived the world as if through a tunnel. Agonies cramped her body, but they were distant, unimportant things, like the recordings of sensations.
She gazed at the figure looming over her. Its helmet was elongated, as if the head underneath was that of some snouted beast. Except, it wasn't a helmet she was seeing; it was the head, apparently made from some matt, silvery metal. There were three eyes in it rather than the usual two, set in a circle, and they were considering her openly. The light of sentience was clear in them. It was a horse's head carved in sharp angles, but with no mouth. How could that be? Could she trust what her senses were telling her? Evolutionary niches varied considerably, but every sentient lifeform she'd ever heard of breathed atmosphere to fuel biochemical processes, and nothing more complex than an extremophile could live in the post-nova void. Yet, there this creature was, calmly standing over her.
Its expression was static, impossible to read, but there was something like puzzlement in the way it tilted its head to one side and back, and in the open stare of its wide eyes. Was it attacking her? It seemed not; the grip on her wrist was firm but by no means painful. The figure was perhaps looking for biological activity, a pulse, trying to decide if she was alive. The fact that it had hold of her left wrist was probably causing it some confusion.
It stood tall again, receding into the glow of light above it, and she saw that its whole body appeared to be made from the same metallic flesh, utterly unblemished yet flexing as her own artificial skin might. Perhaps it wasn't biological in nature at all, but technological. Or some biological/technological hybrid. If someone stared into her artificial eye, did they see the same sapience there? Did they wonder the same questions about her? She regretted now, finally, her insistence on clinging to her natural flesh. Whatever this entity was, it was able to continue living when she could not. What had she been thinking? She'd been clinging desperately to a lost past.
Three eyes. That was familiar wasn't it? They'd seen that motif before. She'd have to check with Ondo. Three circles set in a greater circle, each a slightly different size. She couldn't recall the details. Was this some being sent by Concordance? A soldier come to capture them, a weapon to kill them? Maybe their enemies did know about the tunnels, and Ondo had been wrong. At least he'd died without knowing it. At least he'd be spared the torments that would be unleashed upon her.
The strangely animalian face reappeared directly in front of her own, and she felt the figure's arms under her knees and back. It was lifting her up, taking her. She struggled, but even with her augmentations she couldn't break free of the grasp. Either the figure was immensely powerful, or her strength was gone.