by Cary Caffrey
It was then Sigrid heard the first of the alarms sounding—proximity warnings.
"Contact," Selene said. "Multiple. Close. Four thousand kilometers, closing fast—shit."
Sigrid heard the bang and felt the ship shudder under the impact. They'd hit something. Chunks of debris flew toward them, careening off their hull. Sigrid scanned the rubble; twisted bits of titanium, composite materials, organic material—bodies, she realized. Whatever this was, whatever they were passing through, it wasn't natural phenomena.
"Report," Sigrid said.
"It's a ship," Selene said. "Or what's left of it. Whatever it was, it was big."
More shrapnel peppered the hull of the Morrigan as they plowed into yet another wave of debris. The multiple signals were nothing more than the remnants, bits and pieces of what was once a ship now blasted into oblivion.
"Hang on!" Selene called out.
A huge section of the destroyed vessel, what looked like part of an engine pylon, hurtled toward them. Sigrid saw the fifteen-meter-tall thruster nozzle tumbling end over end, filling the view screen. Selene pulled hard on the control column, blasting up and away. The maneuver was drastic, desperate. The Morrigan's inertial dampers did their best to compensate, yet Sigrid still felt the crushing forces pushing her deep into her seat.
There was nothing Selene could do, nothing any of them could do but hold tight, hold their breath. Sigrid winced, bracing herself. When it came, the impact threw her from her seat, rattling her skull as much as it did the ship, the hull resonating like some great bell.
Sigrid waited, listening, scanning, but there was only silence. For a good minute no one moved, no one breathed.
Oddly, miraculously, inexplicably, they were alive.
Five amber alerts flashed on the tiny console on the arm of her chair. There was a breach in the cargo section, but the emergency seals were holding. The primary navigational array had been sheared off. Sigrid knew how close they'd come; the damage could have been much, much worse.
"What the hell happened here?" Suko said, climbing to her feet, leaning heavily on the arm of Sigrid's chair.
Sigrid didn't know. Yet this was too familiar, too much like her journey aboard the Agatsuma—the limpet mine they'd struck upon exiting warp space. Was this the result of a similar encounter? Was this another attempt on them?
"Two more ships," Selene called out. "Ten thousand kilometers—moving fast. They're headed toward the Relay. Damn."
"Show me," Sigrid said. "On screen."
Selene keyed the switch on her console, the forward monitor giving them a view of nearby space. Sigrid saw it then: a ship, an aging corvette, scarred and battle-worn, blasting toward the Warp Relay. But she wasn't alone. She was being pursued, hunted, by a much larger vessel to her stern.
The pursuing ship looked state of the art, a gleaming ship of the line. She was a cruiser, a ship of war, and hell bent on running down the much smaller vessel. Three fighters launched from her bays to swarm over the fleeing corvette and wreak further havoc.
The corvette was nearly to the Relay. She crawled closer, desperate for escape. But Sigrid knew she would not make it. For all its bulk, the cruiser was far swifter. She overtook the corvette, catching her easily, coming alongside and bringing all of her guns to bear. The entire port side of the cruiser was alight, her banks of rail turrets firing at pointblank range. Ballistic rounds raked across the fleeing vessel, tearing open huge rifts in her hull, breaking her back and splitting her in two. The drive and crew sections careened wildly away from each other, spinning end over end.
There would be no survivors from this encounter. The battle was over.
Sigrid scanned the battle area. The destroyed corvette registered as the Babenberg, a mercenary vessel registered to Clan Crossley. To her surprise, the cruiser was not a ship of the Guild. She assumed the pursuing vessel to be mercenary as well—perhaps from a rival clan retaliating against some incursion or slight against them. But she was wrong. The cruiser registered as a CTF naval vessel.
It was a Council ship.
Suko must have scanned the data, just a she had. She plunked her elbow down, resting her chin in her hand.
"Now what do you suppose a Council ship is doing mixing it up with mercenaries?"
Sigrid felt a knot of cold twisting around her spine. It didn't make any sense. The Mercenary Guild and the Council for Trade and Finance were hardly enemies. The Guild was a tool of the Council. The Council might pass the laws, but it was the Mercenary Guild who enforced them. The CTF employed mercenaries! They certainly held no jurisdiction over them. Yet she had just witnessed a CTF naval ship obliterate a mercenary vessel.
And why here? Why now? Just as they arrived in Bellatrix space.
The cruiser moved alongside the shattered remains of the Babenberg. Salvage tugs were launched from her bays, sweeping out to begin the work of clearing the debris while her fighters flew combat patrol, keeping a watchful eye.
One of the fighters came about in a wide, sweeping arc. Sigrid's eyes widened as she realized it was coming toward them. The twenty-five-meter, V-shaped vessel closed the distance quickly. As scrappy as her own ship was, Sigrid knew this fighter was a true bird of prey, and her sights were set squarely on the Morrigan. Missile pods and cannon extended from the mounts in her wings, looking like great talons, ready to rend and tear the flesh of her own ship apart.
"I hope they don't think we're involved," Trudy said worriedly. "We just got here!"
"I'm not sure if they care," Selene said. "Orders, Sigrid?"
Sigrid realized they were all looking to her.
"Do we fight?" Suko asked.
"We can still cloak," Selene offered. "We can make for the Relay."
"No. Hold your course."
Suko leaned closer. "Sigrid…" Sigrid heard the warning in her voice. There was danger out there; Suko saw it. She saw it too.
Sigrid sat back in her chair and crossed her legs. The incoming fighter was already within weapons range, yet she did not fire, not even a shot across her bow.
"We knew we had to test our cover sometime. We might as well find out if it's going to hold up—better sooner than later."
"Yes," Suko said, "but perhaps we can test it in a situation that doesn't involve them blowing us to bits."
Sigrid let out a long breath. All her instincts told her the same thing. Fight. Destroy the fighter before it could destroy them. They could cloak. They could run.
But she had a plan, she had a mission. To turn back now…
"No, Lady Hitomi assured me our cover would hold. I trust her. We're going in. We're going to Bellatrix. Hold your course, Selene."
Waiting, wondering, the girls watched in silence as the fighter closed the distance. But the fighter's only maneuver was to perform a gentle, sweeping turn to come alongside, matching their course and speed.
"They're signaling," Trudy said.
"On screen."
The forward monitor switched instantly to the cramped interior of the fighter's cockpit. Sigrid saw the three crew seated tightly side by side. She couldn't see their faces, masked as they were by their pressure suits and helmets.
"Identify."
"Charming…" Suko whispered at her side.
"This is the Helena, out of Rastaban," Sigrid said, offering their falsified designation. "Sigrid Peters, commanding."
"Destination."
"New Shēnzhèn. Our flight plan is booked and cleared with Relay Control."
A tense silence followed. Thanks to the pilots' helmets and mirrored faceplates, Sigrid could neither see nor hear what they discussed—if they were discussing anything at all. She could only hope her mistress's work was up to the task.
"Helena, you are cleared for Bellatrix travel. We are transmitting your new flight plan. Any deviation will result in arrest and seizure of your vessel. All ships must register with Customs and Border Protection at the Portside Orbital Facility. You will wait there until called. Once called, you will submit to
full inspection. Please have all documentation ready. Any hazardous items must be accompanied by the appropriate documentation. Good day."
With that, the screen winked out and the fighter peeled away, moving back to resume its combat patrol around the Council frigate. Their cover had held. So far.
"Hazardous materials?" Suko said.
"You don't suppose he means us?" Trudy asked.
Leta snickered at her side.
With the emergency over, the girls relaxed, chatting about the close call, eager to get on with their mission. But Sigrid couldn't stop thinking about the wrecked mercenary ships, the battle waged so close to the Relay. What had caused the mercenaries to run, and what had driven the CTF to pursue and prosecute with deadly force?
Why now, just as they arrived in Bellatrix space?
Sigrid feared she would find out soon.
*
For the next four days, they closed on Bellatrix, blasting their way toward the planet. During that time, Trudy kept close watch over the com-traffic within the system. There was a tremendous amount of ship-to-ship chatter about the battle. Within hours, reports began to flood in from the news feeds. Trudy and Sigrid were able to piece together a clearer picture of what had transpired.
There had been a bombing on Bellatrix. The Council Embassy in the capital city of Portside was the target. The word terrorism was bandied about in the reports, although the Council authorities were blaming it on mercenaries and linking Clan Crossley directly to the affair.
Representatives from Clan Crossley denied the charges, calling for immediate reparations after the destruction of two of their vessels, further inflaming the situation. Security had been heightened, all branches put on alert. All ships in and out of Bellatrix were to be searched thoroughly. Theirs included.
"It can't be mercs," Leta said. "There's no way! I know the Mercenary Guild—they would never sanction an operation like this. Not against the Council."
Sigrid agreed. "Keep listening, Trudy. Let me know immediately if you find anything else."
"This isn't exactly the reception we were planning on," Suko said. "I thought we were supposed to 'slip in' unnoticed."
Sigrid leaned over the command console. The space surrounding Bellatrix was crowded with CTF vessels and local security, a gauntlet through which they would be forced to pass directly through. There would be no hiding. Not this time.
"Lady Hitomi assured us our documents will pass inspection," Sigrid said. "We have to trust her. It will work."
When they arrived at the orbital facilities of Customs and Border Protection, they were forced to remain there for a total of eight days, waiting for their turn to be boarded and inspected. The waiting only served to feed Sigrid's anxiety. Her mind filled with several worst-case scenarios. She imagined security officials scrutinizing their falsified registries, detecting the lies behind it. Perhaps they already knew the truth? Maybe they knew exactly who they were, and were just waiting for the right moment to spring their trap?
Sigrid rubbed at her temples. She was being foolish, and she knew it. If security knew who they were, they would find out soon enough. There was little to be achieved in concocting doomsday scenarios. She had a mission to plan, and so far her 'plan' was somewhat lacking in detail. Beyond getting to the surface, there really wasn't much more to it.
Bellatrix was home to more than a billion persons. Thirty-seven million people resided in New Shēnzhèn alone. How did she possibly expect to find evidence of their enemies here?
But Hitomi had provided her with that one single clue: the information broker, John Mirren. Sigrid had no choice but to seek him out.
In their quarters, Suko came to stand behind Sigrid, placing her hands on her shoulders, working and kneading the twisted knotting of muscles there.
"You're very tense," Suko said.
Sigrid leaned back into the massage and closed her eyes, letting out a long moan. Suko's hands moved lower then, coming around to her front.
"Those aren't tense," Sigrid said.
"No, but they still require attention."
Sigrid smiled and reached back, grabbing Suko by the collar and pulling her close, enjoying a long kiss.
"Better?" Suko said.
"Much."
Sigrid felt the blip in her PCM. It was Trudy signaling through her comlink.
Suko mumbled a curse. "Tell her we're busy."
Sigrid hushed her, listening.
"We're cleared, Sigrid. We'll be docking in ten minutes. We're to submit ourselves to Customs directly."
"Thank you, Trudy. We'll be right there."
"I think I liked it better when that thing wasn't working," Suko grumbled, tapping Sigrid's head near where her comlink was embedded. "Can't get a wink of privacy on this ship."
Extracting herself from Suko's arms, Sigrid rose to retrieve her combat outfit from the hook by the door. Stripping off her ship wear, she stepped into the strong but stretchy uniform.
This was the very same uniform Hitomi had made for her, given to her that night on Earth. Made of a special nanofiber weave, the outfit allowed Sigrid a myriad of camouflage options. With it, she could blend perfectly into any environment, even achieve a cloak of pure invisibility, if only for a short time. Holding the effect was still incredibly draining, though Sigrid found ever since Dr. Garrett's upgrades she could remain cloaked for much longer periods.
But the suit was a prototype, unique to her and the special program Hitomi had designed for her alone. In time, all the girls were to be furnished with similar uniforms, but that plan had been derailed by Sigrid's failure to secure the needed supplies on Konoe.
The magenta and white trim were gone, stripped from the uniforms. They were freelancers now—at least they were on this operation. Freelancers would not sport the kinds of colors and insignia associated with the mercenary clans. They were ronin, their all-black garments lending credence to their claim.
Suko sat back on the bed and watched as Sigrid dressed. "You know, Trudy did say ten minutes." Suko gave the spot on the bed beside her a pat for good measure.
"Is that all you can think about?" Sigrid asked, scowling back at her.
"I think about lots of things. Food, for one. I'm positively famished. Do you think there's time for a last meal before we dock? Who knows how long this inspection will last."
Sigrid paused, the zipper of her uniform only half pulled up. "And now food? Am I so easily forgotten? Shunted aside just because your stomach rumbled?"
Suko rose to stand next to her. "Forgotten? Never. Completely impossible." Her arms wrapped around Sigrid, her hands finding those other parts equally in need of tending to.
"Ten minutes?" Sigrid said.
"My chronometer is already counting down."
*
Security on Bellatrix was handled much like Earth. The Morrigan would not be permitted to land, not directly. Instead, they were forced to dock with one of the many orbital platforms. From there, they would take one of the orbital elevators to the surface—but only once they were cleared for passage by the good people of Customs and Border Protection.
After turning her ship over to the inspectors, Sigrid, Leta, Suko and Trudy were escorted to the CBP offices. This resulted in even more waiting as they were made to join an impossibly long queue. Two hundred and seventy eight persons waited in line ahead of them.
"This will take forever," Trudy complained.
"Not for everyone," Leta observed. There was a great kerfuffle ahead of them; the milling crowds were pushed aside, forced to make way as the customs officials ushered a young woman through to the head of the line. Sigrid spotted her expertly tailored suit, the matching set of luggage carried along by what seemed an entire platoon of porters as they hurried to match her purposeful pace. Her papers were stamped, the woman waved through, all without any delay or questions or awkward probing searches. It reminded Sigrid very much of her travels with her mistress, the way Lady Hitomi circumvented such bureaucratic inconveniences.
> But there would be no relief for Sigrid and her friends, not on this trip, and they were forced to endure the never-ending queue.
It was hours later when they were waved forward. The customs officer greeted Sigrid with a bored stare, barely looking up from his screen.
"Purpose for entering Bellatrix?"
"Work," Sigrid said.
The officer glanced up, took one look at Sigrid and her companions in their form-fitting black outfits, then wagged his thumb in the opposite direction.
"Flesh traders check in at the south entrance. Take this." He waved a colored electronic form in her face. "Make sure to fill it out, hand it to the medical screener. You'll need these too." He handed her four clear plastic cups.
Sigrid took the form and the cups, and placed them right back down on his desk. "We're not flesh traders, sir. We're freelancers. We're here for work."
"This ain't no employment ministry. No work, no entry." He pointed to the sign above his head that declared exactly the same thing. "Bellatrix doesn't take unemployables. And there's no dole for nonresidents."
Sigrid sighed. Hitomi had warned her to expect this, and briefed her on the appropriate response. "We have our own weapons, sir, if that's what you're concerned about. And we have a contract." Sigrid produced the falsified documents. Hitomi had forged the contract through a subsidiary of a subsidiary of a small corporation, subcontracted through a brokerage. She assured them the papers would stand up to the staunchest scrutiny.
"We're freelancers, not freeloaders," Sigrid said, irritation creeping into her voice. "We came seeking profit, not charity"
The security officer looked up, grunted, took one brief look at the contract before slipping it into his filer. The contract was quickly scanned and registered. The officer handed it back.
Sigrid tried not to roll her eyes. So much for the much lauded scrutiny of Bellatrix's customs officers.
"Freelancers, eh? Don't look like no freelancers. What kind of work you say you're here for? Protection? Collections?"
