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“Does the Fleet know the station exists, officially I mean?” Zack stared at his sensor readout. “They’ve done a good job at hiding the place, but it’s not like Tortuga, stashed away inside a nebula.”
“A private colony like this on the Rim has its uses,” Talyn replied, her eyes glued to the navigation screen. “We ignore them provided they don’t cause trouble. Collecting taxes isn’t the Navy’s business. Mind you, they start to dabble in things we don’t like, and a visit by your friendly neighborhood frigate soon sets them right. The folks operating this place know that and tend to police themselves pretty well, better than some officially acknowledged colonies of your acquaintance.”
“Nice. It sounds like a great spot for subversives to plan and prepare for the revolution.” Decker scowled at the station’s image.
“If they’re not subverting the Commonwealth itself, we don’t care.” She shrugged. “The Fleet might even nudge a few useful idiots in the right direction if it’ll help keep the peace within our sphere.”
“They’re hailing us.”
“By all means, feel free to reply,” she said with a touch of asperity. “Try to remember that I’m Dynes, and you’re Gant.”
When he’d done so and listened to the reply, he frowned.
“The docking fees they just quoted are on the wrong side of extortionate. I’m assuming those were taken into consideration when the boss handed out our covert funding.”
“They were. Look at it this way: they can keep out the riff-raff by charging a lot for one of their slips. Only those who have profitable business on Kilia or have money to spare are going to bother docking. Anyone else either buggers off or keeps at a distance and shuttles in; though I have no doubt the hangar fees are equally eye-watering.”
“Makes sense. I’m glad we’re spending the taxpayer’s money and not our own. Back when I was sailing aboard Demetria, we wouldn’t have been able to afford it. Margins were much too thin.”
The memory of life before his return to active duty didn’t hurt quite like it used to, but he nonetheless felt a brief stab of pain in his gut.
“There,” he said a few minutes later, “we’re being welcomed by the Kilia Station cooperative. I hope the AI has been programmed for funky docking maneuvers. We’ve been assigned an outside docking arm and that thing is using spin for gravity.”
“No fears. I ran simulations to train for a situation like this.”
“That makes me feel so much better.”
“Why don’t you take the controls then, Mister Sarcasm?”
“I’m a Marine. We don’t sully ourselves by driving vulgar starships.”
She snorted with suppressed laughter.
“More like driving a starship is beyond a Marine’s limited abilities.”
Decker was about to utter a few pungent words in reply when the sensor readout drew his attention again.
“I think it might take a bit more than a frigate to scare these guys into obedience, Hera. That’s some heavy ordnance they’ve got pointing at us.”
“It wouldn’t do them any good against a volley of missiles. The station’s a sitting duck. A few kinetic strikes from a stand-off position and they’ll be singing the Commonwealth anthem with feeling.”
“True.” He nodded. “But I don’t see our chances as being good if they decide they don’t like the cut of our hull.”
“We’re not a frigate. Now, kindly keep any fantastic observations to yourself and let me dock, so we can get some fresh food. Then you can demonstrate that you’re good for more than just fighting and fucking.”
“Aye, aye, Captain Dynes, sir.” He tossed off a mock salute and went back to his detailed scan of Kilia.
A hollowed-out asteroid with a spin to approximate one standard gravity, the station blended in with the other remains of what had once been a major planet, destroyed in a cataclysm hundreds of millions of years earlier. Only close up did the marks of human habitation become evident.
Chimera’s naval grade sensors were able to pick the details out from a decent range but most civilian vessels passing through the system without knowing that Kilia existed would remain in blissful ignorance. Of course, if one didn’t know about the station, there’d be little incentive to visit this particular system since it had no habitable planets.
“Oh goodie,” he muttered when he finally got a clear look at the other ships docked along the asteroid’s rim.
“What?”
“I thought you told me to keep any observations to myself.”
“I know that tone, Zack. It means you’ve seen something I might wish to know about before we dock.”
“There’s a Shrehari trader in the slip next to the one we’ve been assigned and in these parts, it’s a given that he’s doing some commerce raiding on the sly.”
“If they’re docked, they have money and aren’t causing problems. If we run across any Shrehari on the station, we’ll give them our best snarl and go about our business. The war ended seventy years ago. Now hush. I need to make sure we line up with a thin docking arm stuck into a big rotating rock.”
**
“I’m pretty sure the last fifteen minutes took a few years off my life,” Decker commented, switching Chimera’s systems to standby mode, now that they were securely attached to Kilia Station.
“Everyone’s a critic. Tell you what: you can dock us the next time. I’ll bet you’re going to make way more adjustments than I had to.”
“Like I said, Marines don’t lower themselves to driving the damn things. There,” he stood, “we’re all set. Shall we sample the local wildlife?”
“The only sampling on the menu is fresh food and of course finding out whether or not this is the right place to start snooping.”
The airlock shut behind them with a finality that pleased Zack. Short of using high explosives, no one would be able to break in, and if they did manage to overwhelm his security measures, they wouldn’t make it through the inner hatch in one piece.
He sniffed the air cautiously as they climbed up a spiral staircase inside of the docking arm.
“Not rancid like the last unregistered station I visited.”
“That’s probably because Kilia is trying to stay on the lighter side of the gray zone.”
A barrier at the end of the slip slid aside after its sensor had determined they were who they said they were and carried nothing more worrisome than personal side arms. They passed through several additional airlocks before emerging into the natural cavern that had been enlarged and sealed to create the small colony.
“Not bad,” Zack stepped to one side and stopped to get his bearings. “I hate places that have been set up like a spinning cylinder. Looking up at the other side’s down always makes me feel queasy.”
“Give it time,” she replied. “It’ll eventually get big enough to build entirely around the axis.”
A trio of Shrehari, looking every millimeter the pirates they probably were, walked around the corner of a nearby building, apparently headed for their ship.
Although not military, they had the bearing and arrogance of warriors, right down to the crest of stiff hair on their bony, ridged skulls. They examined the two humans, and the nearest one said something to his companions that caused visible mirth.
“My understanding of their damned tongue might not be the greatest, but I get the feeling I’ve just been insulted,” he muttered in an aside to Talyn.
“He wondered whether a weak human like you was warrior enough to handle that stolen Imperial Armaments blaster on your hip.”
“Figures.”
Zack turned his head to look over his shoulder and shouted an imprecation in broken Shrehari at them. One of the humanoids made an obscene gesture at the Marine before they vanished through the open airlock.
“I wish you hadn’t done that,” Talyn said, amusement dancing in her dark eyes.
“Why? Some of the bastards never got over the fact that they didn’t win the war, even if it was seventy years ago.”
“Problem is, you told them to have sexual relations with their fusion reactors. I’m afraid they’re laughing even harder right now.”
“Meh,” he shrugged, “fusion reactor, mother, they both sound like a constipated raptor giving birth. Bloody barbaric language, that. Speaking through the business end of my gun used to get the point across just fine.”
“Brush up on your Shrehari if you’re not going to ignore them. Shouting out an invitation to commit acts of fornication with a power source won’t get you any respect.”
“Although it might be fun to witness the buggers do it. Crispy Shrehari. Sounds just about right.” He scanned the immense cavern again. “Where to?”
“The bazaar. It’s in the middle of the cavern.”
She stepped off so suddenly that he had to take long strides to catch up. They made their way between low buildings painted in a bewildering array of colors, dodging humanoids from a dozen species.
Decker’s eyes kept scanning his surroundings for threats, something that had long since become second nature for the Pathfinder. A quickly glimpsed face caught his attention before it disappeared again into the crowd.
He grunted softly.
“What?” She didn’t slow down but glanced sideways at him.
“I’m sure I just saw one of the sector’s head Jackals, the man our analysts figure was behind the little hijacking that had our guy and his rebel buddies end up in the Marengo stockade.”
“One of them on a semi-legal Rim station? Shocking.” She nudged him. “Next thing you’ll tell me is that they have their thumb on the local government. By the way, do try not calling the Confederacy of the Howling Stars by that name in public, okay. It’s not worth the trouble that’ll ensue.”
“I sure won’t call them Star Wolves. That would be giving the bastards a compliment they don’t deserve.”
“Then don’t mention them at all. It’ll be better that way, for us and the mission.”
She slowed her pace when they emerged from the side street into a large plaza dominated by a tall, central pyramid. The construct’s top tier seemed to merge with the cavern ceiling as if it were supporting the weight of the spinning asteroid.
“I think we’re here.”
“Your bazaar reminds me of the underground Casbah in Hadley,” Zack said, a sad smile twisting his lips, “except cleaner and less aromatic.”
“And safer.” She pulled him out of the way while she scanned the perimeter. “Or to be more accurate, it’s safer if you stick to the station’s rules. The policing here tends to be a bit harsher than elsewhere.”
“Personal experience?”
“I try to learn from the experience of others. You should try it someday.”
“Where’s the fun in that?”
“To each his own I suppose.” She nodded towards the left side of the plaza. “Let’s try over there.”
“Any reason why there and not in the other direction?”
“Was that an idle question or do you want a lesson in field craft?”
“Both.” He matched his stride to hers, heedless of people stepping out of their way to avoid being run down.
“Then pay attention, Ser Gant. I’ll explain this only once. See the rather subdued sign for a ship chandlery over there?”
“Sure.”
“That’s where we’ll order the fresh foodstuff you’ll need to cook me some gourmet meals.”
“Thanks for that completely unneeded reminder, funny lady.”
“And it’s bound to be the place most starship officers visit when they touch port, so the owner likely knows more of what’s going on along this part of the Rim - at least when it comes to dodgy business - than the average tavern proprietor.”
“I see,” Decker nodded, “a local and very informal intelligence hub. That does make sense for once.”
“Careful, big boy.”
“I am that.”
“Careful?”
“No, big.”
She jabbed him in the ribs with her elbow by way of reply.
They were halfway to their destination when a uniformed security officer stepped across their path. He wasn’t particularly menacing, but he did have a holstered blaster and a shock stick hanging from his belt.
“You are Dyne and Gant of Chimera?” He asked, looking from Talyn to Decker.
“We are,” Hera replied pleasantly, smiling. “I’m Captain Dyne and the big boy here is Gant, my first mate.”
“The port controller has asked to see you. If you’ll follow me.” He gestured towards the pyramid.
Hera looked at Zack, eyebrows raised, then she shrugged before nodding.
“I’d ask you what this is about, but I’ll bet your answer is going to be that you don’t know.”
“Correct.” The man replied, deadpan, and set off without looking back, confident that the two newcomers would follow him.
**
The port controller’s office turned out to be a relatively austere thing: a few pieces of furniture, the expected terminal, large view screens and not much more. The woman behind the desk seemed to be cut from the core of the asteroid itself: hard, craggy, and topped by hair that bristled like a steel brush.
She didn’t waste any time on niceties, merely waving towards two hard chairs in front of her desk by way of greeting.
“You’re Dyne and Gant of Chimera.” It wasn’t a question. She glanced at her terminal and back at the two operatives.
“We are,” Talyn confirmed.
“And you own Chimera? Or is it owned by a third party?” Her tone was matter-of-fact, emotionless. It matched her expression.
“We own it.”
“You have the appropriate documentation to prove ownership?”
“Indeed.” Talyn nodded. “May I ask what this is about?”
“As a law-abiding entity, we keep a lookout for vessels reported to have been taken through illegal means. Chimera is of a tonnage and configuration that approximates a ship called Syrah, stolen in the Nabhka system approximately one year ago.”
She paused, looking for some sort of reaction, but if she had hopes of witnessing a guilty glance between the two spacers, these were immediately dashed.
“We’ve owned Chimera for over five years,” Talyn replied.
“You’ll understand that I have to verify your claim of ownership.”
“It’s hardly a claim,” Decker said, shrugging. “More like a fact.”
Talyn fished a data wafer from her breast pocket and slid it across the desk.
“Proof of ownership,” she said.
“Thank you.” Eyes locked on her screen, the port controller downloaded a copy of the relevant documentation before returning the chip.
“Your proof seems to be in order, but of course, those things can be faked. I’ll still need to have your ship inspected.”
Again, the search for a reaction.
“We have nothing to hide.”
“And we’ll establish that quickly enough, Captain Dyne. The owners of Syrah have provided us with detailed specs to use as a baseline for comparison.”
“Who would these owners be? Or is that confidential?” Decker asked.
“The request was made via the Avalon Corporation on behalf of the conglomerate that owns both. Are you familiar with Avalon?”
“Private Military Corporation.” Decker shrugged again. “One of the bigger operations. Checkered reputation, but compared to some of the others, not all bad.”
The woman stared at him for a few seconds, then glanced back at her screen.
“My people are waiting by your airlock. I presume that you’ve rigged your ship to prevent unauthorized entry. Therefore, I’ll ask you to return to the docking slip and cooperate with the inspector.”
“Of course.” Talyn inclined her head politely. “I assume that we may go?”
“Correct.”
As they were about to leave the office, she spoke again.
“Be advised that if you’ve lied and are indeed operating a ship reported taken from its rightful owners, we will hand you over to said owners for disposition. Out here on the Rim, people don’t always involve Commonwealth authorities, especially when it comes to pirates.”
“As a ship owner myself, I wouldn’t wish it any other way,” Talyn smoothly replied, giving the port controller a quick smile. “Come now, Ser Gant, let’s not keep the inspectors in suspense.”
**
“Why wait until we’d disembarked?” Decker asked once they were back outside and headed for the docking ring. “They could have greeted us at the airlock with this little spiel.”
“It’s likely that they tried to get into the ship with us absent to conduct their inspection and found your little enhancements to our security. If we’d passed muster, we’d have been no wiser, and if they determined it was stolen, they’d have picked us up on the station with minimal fuss.”
“Smart.” Decker nodded. “Much easier than to come on like a herd of elephants with plasma carbines.”
“Something to remember, eh?” Talyn chuckled.
“I can be as subtle as the best of them. Except when it comes to my sense of humor, I suppose,” he added after a moment’s thought.
“Correct,” she replied, imitating the port controller’s tone. “There’s nothing discrete about that. The next time we have to set up a drop zone, I’ll program the markers.”
“And I’ll just reprogram them at leisure.”
They walked in silence for a while before he asked, “Is this kind of procedure normal? Checking out ships that look like others who’ve vanished?”
“Yes and no. The Navy and Constabulary issue be on the lookout for bulletins every time a starship is declared overdue and presumed lost by its owners. Actually inspecting a ship on suspicion of being stolen is a bit unusual, even on the Rim.”
“The long arm of the Coalition?”
“Perhaps. We’ve got the only recording of Amali’s execution, and the desert nomads are the only other eyewitnesses. Considering that they’re more likely to offer the same end to any Sécurité Spéciale goon than testify, Amali’s friends in high places are probably still trying to find out what happened, if only to make sure they don’t suffer the same fate.”
**
Six humans wearing station security uniforms waited for them at the bottom of the docking arm. There was nothing subtle about the weapons they carried.
Dyne and Gant were to be considered dangerous until the authorities established to their satisfaction that Chimera was not the ship that had belonged to Harmon Amali, a man last seen at his oasis hideout in the Nabhkan desert, said hideout now lying in ruins, its waters back under the control of nomad clans.
“Captain Dyne,” the team leader politely nodded at her the moment they stepped off the spiral staircase. “If you’d please disarm your systems so we can conduct our inspection?”
Talyn glanced at Decker and jerked her head towards the airlock.
“Open her up, Ser Gant.”
When Zack’s had rendered his booby traps safe, the inspector motioned him to stand aside and let his men step aboard. Though Decker remained expressionless, he was surprised that they didn’t send him in first.
Someday the station’s rent-a-cops would come across folks who forgot to either disarm all of the security measures or leave some active on purpose and then where would they be? With a shrug, he complied.
The search took hours. Four members of the security team were equipped with detailed specs of Syrah, and they consulted them frequently, measuring compartments, verifying component serial numbers, and their unique manufacturing tags, measuring power emission curves and much more.
Decker followed one pair around while Talyn followed the other, answering questions clearly designed to test their knowledge of the ship. Zack was glad Hera had made them crawl through every tube, examine every nook and cranny, and memorize every detail of the layout during their passage to Kilia.
It proved impossible for either agent to determine whether or not the inspectors found anything suspicious and at the end of it, the team departed without saying a word, pausing only to collect the duo they’d left guarding the airlock.
“So?” He asked once the armored hatch shut them off from the docking arm.
She reached out and brushed his hand with dancing fingertips, spelling out a message in the tactile code used by naval intelligence agents.
They probably bugged us.
Zack nodded his agreement. Their hands reversed position so he could signal.
If the engineers forgot to hide something that could link us back, they’ll wait until we’re both off the ship to take it and us.
It was her turn to nod.
“It’s been a long day, Zack,” she said aloud. “Why don’t you go get us stocked up with fresh food while I put the ship to rights. Our friendly inspectors weren’t exactly subtle.”
Her fingers signaled although we shouldn’t stick around longer than necessary, if we leave right away, it’ll look suspicious.
“Good idea,” he replied. “Any special requests?”
“Stick to fruit and veggies. I doubt their protein vats grow anything better than the rations we’ve got.”
“I’ll see. A good vat steak is pretty much indistinguishable from what passes for beef in most outer systems.”
“At your discretion, then. Just don’t overspend. Until we get a contract, we’re living off savings,” she added, for any hidden listening devices.
Her fingers danced one last time. While you’re out, I’ll see if they left anything nasty behind.
If you find something, don’t touch it until I’m back, he replied, blowing her a kiss before opening the hatch again.
