Opening scenes – The Admiral and the Rebel

Sara strode up to the sentry post at Bargara’s shipping warehouse. “Inspector Lydia Simmons from Anaris Security.”

“Through the scanner, please,” the guard on duty said, gesturing at the gateway.

Sara passed between the double banks of scanners and stopped in front of the guard.

He frowned at the results on his screen and rolled his eyes. “You people don’t believe in cranial chips, do you? Give me your ID card.”

‘You people’ – short for backwards yokels from the outer worlds. It rankled but it didn’t matter. If he underestimated her, so much the better.

He took her card and inserted it into a reader. “You’re cleared.” He gave her a token. “Carry that with you. You don’t want the security bots to think you’re an intruder. Hand it in when you get back. Where do you want to go?”

“The cargo for Anaris freighter Fornost 6 is to be loaded tomorrow,” Sara said. “We want to be certain everything is in order. I wish to check some of the containers for content, so I’ll have to open them.”

“Sure.” He pressed a button to open the gate and a compact two-seater cart rose from its resting position. “The cart will take you to your cargo. Don’t go anywhere else, okay? If you do, you’ll be in trouble. Tell the cart which container you want opened and it will do the rest. Clear?”

Yes, Sara knew about that. She’d done her homework. Warnings first, then the security bots shot intruders. “Clear.”

She stepped into the cart, and it set off, navigating its way through corridors of cargo containers stacked twenty high, brilliantly lit by lights set in the ceiling. Security cameras set on the racks tracked every move. The vehicle turned a corner and a security bot passing overhead slowed to read her token before moving on.

The cart stopped. “Cargo for Fornost 6.”

The containers were ready to go, stacked separately so the cargo movers could work efficiently tomorrow, lifting them up to the waiting ship, which would leave immediately after the final piece was secured.

Sara pulled out the sensor hidden in her clothes. This was where it became dangerous. The bots shouldn’t be able to pick up the sensor any more than they could her implant. But if her coding hadn’t been good enough, she’d find out about now. She waited, rigid with tension.

Nothing happened. So far so good. Relaxing, she checked the labels on the containers.

The proton missiles were in the second row.

Pointing to the second container from the top, she said, “Retrieve that one and open it.”

A crane attached to the ceiling came to life. Mechanical arms descended to grip the top container and lift it sufficiently to allow access to the container she’d selected. The transport cart came in close and extended an arm to connect with the lock on the lid. It slid aside with a soft click.

She took out several of the bombs and pretended to look them over. A security bot flew past, checked her, then moved on. It would make another pass in three minutes. She’d have to work fast. She took out the detonator chip in her pocket and attached it to a missile, then placed it in the second row with the others she’d removed on top. She had just put the lid down when a voice barked, “What are you doing?”

Her heart pounding, Sara spun around. A uniformed security guard stood in front of her, his pistol pointed at her.

“I could ask you the same question.”

“You don’t have a head chip,” he growled, eyes narrowed.

“That’s right. We don’t believe in that sort of thing where I come from. The sentry guard gave me a token.”

“A what?”

“A token. It’s in my pocket. Can I show you?”

His head jerked in a brief nod. “Slowly. Don’t make me jittery.”

Sara took out the token and showed it to him. It flashed green. “See? I’m allowed to be here.”

“Yeah.” Licking his lips, he holstered his weapon. He looked quite young, and the uniform looked very new.

“I’ve finished now,” Sara said. “Is it okay if I go?”

“Yes. Do that.”

“I’ve finished,” she said to the cart. The cart locked the container she’d searched and the crane lowered the top container back into place. It seemed to take forever, with the young guard watching every action. That done, Sara climbed into the cart and headed for the entry, where she handed in the token. “I didn’t know you did foot patrols as well?”

The guard looked up. “What?”

“One of your colleagues held me up with his pistol.”

He sighed. “He’s new, getting a feel for the place. We do run foot patrols now and then. It’s a good way of understanding what happens here.”

She nodded. “Makes sense.”

Commander Trev Drexler knocked to announce his presence, then entered Admiral Fyn Nielsen’s office. “We have achieved Anaris orbit, sir.”

“How long do I have before the arrival ceremonies?”

“Three hours. It’s only just daylight down there.”

Fyn hated this part of being an admiral. He’d have to wear full dress uniform and inspect a platoon of the local army corps, also in full dress uniform. Then he’d have to smile politely to the local dignitaries while he and Lord Governor Malchor sized each other up. Ah well. Needs must.

“Have my shuttle ready. Give me a call when it’s time. Anything for me to check on?”

“You need to sign off on some transfers and requisitions. That’s about it.”

“Send them through.”

“Yes, sir.” Drexler retreated.

Fyn turned to the view screen showing the planet and zoomed in on the mountain range outside the capital. Clouds were caught up on the highest peaks but if he looked carefully, he could see the snow line, the deep green valleys, and a glint of lakes and waterfalls. Ten years ago, he’d been here for a week, a junior commander on a cruiser. He’d taken a day off to visit those mountains.

He opened his comlink and gazed at the image of the woman. Dark hair hanging around her shoulders, golden bronze skin, and dark eyes that held a spark of humor. She’d rescued him after his flitter crashed. Even after all this time, sometimes he’d see her in his dreams, reliving fantasies where they’d done more than just huddle together under a blanket while the snow fell outside the cave. He still kicked himself for his tongue-tied inadequacy when he said goodbye to her. There was no more time then, his ship moved on just hours after his return, but he could have asked her for her contact details. Or something. She’d saved his life and he’d pulled a pistol on her.

Where would she be now? The civil war had started months after he’d been there, she would have been mixed up in it. Thousands were killed in the coup. Maybe she was dead. Married with kids? An academic somewhere? He’d never know. So far, it was the greatest regret of his life.

He closed the image and attended to the admin Drexler had sent him.

***

Anaris hung against the black of space, the planet daubed in the usual green, brown, and blue of an inhabited world. White clouds circled over the oceans and a sparkle of lights was visible on the night side of the terminator line. Sara smiled. So many times she’d seen this view and every time it was that little bit different and always breathtaking.

Leo startled her out of her reverie. “Struth. What’s that?” Frowning, he bent over the bridge’s display screen. “Bloody hell. That’s a battle group.”

Sara increased the resolution. A battle cruiser, two destroyers, and three frigates, all floating outside the orbit of Anaris’s main space station which hung in geocentric orbit above Mythralis. Her nerves fluttered. “Crumbs. You’re right. I wonder what that’s about?” It surely couldn’t be a response to the destruction of the freighter from Bargara. Could it?

“I wonder if they’ll stop us?” Leo said, his voice dark.

“Not much we can do about it if they do.” She lightened her tone. “They might want to examine our cargo. Their admiral might fancy fine wines, brandy, lorvard scallops, and Servian sweet meats.”

Leo chuckled. “Wouldn’t that be piracy?”

“I guess so. I’ve not heard of the Feds doing much pilfering, though I’m sure it happens. It sounds more like what one of Malchor’s goons would do, greasing some admiral’s palm.”

That earned her a grin from her best friend and partner.

“We’ll just have to take it by ear,” she said, giving his shoulder a shake. “It wouldn’t be the first time.”

“No, it wouldn’t. But it’s only a few days since your visit to the warehouse. Maybe somebody talked to the guards.”

“Relax. Even if they did, there’s nothing to find, nothing to trace to me.” Which might have made him feel better, but she had to admit to a good dose of nerves.

Tension mounted in the bridge as the Confederacy ships grew larger in the scopes, then receded as Athena swept past into the traffic lanes for the space station.

“Looks like we’re clear,” she murmured, breathing out a hidden sigh of relief.

“I can’t believe how big these capital ships are. You could fit twenty Athenas in the hangar bays of that battle cruiser alone,” Leo said.

Sara let Athena’s AI take the ship in until station control took over to guide her into their usual bay in level ten. Leo prepared the hold for inspection by the local customs officials while she finished some of the arrival admin tasks before she went down to join him.

She arrived just in time to welcome the customs inspectors.

Oh bugger. Colmas.

The man was a slob and that was one of his more endearing features. His uniform could do with a press, and he’d spilled kaff on his shirt. His armed sidekick wasn’t any better.

The customs officer smirked at her. “Lovely to see you again, Captain York. Nothing to declare, I suppose?”

She handed him the manifest.

“Very fancy,” he said, flicking through it. “I couldn’t afford any of this on my wage.”

He was angling for a bribe, although, of course, he wouldn’t call it that. “Would the bill be better if I had fewer bottles of brandy? Maybe by a bottle or two?”

Colmas grinned. “Very likely. I’ll see what I can do.” His eyes narrowed. “Hmm. I see you’ve come from Malmos.”

Sara schooled her expression. “Yes. I do that run regularly, as you know.”

“How was Malmos?”

Uh-oh.

“Oh, just the same. High rise buildings, bright lights, expensive shops, too many people. Have you been there?”

“No.” He eyed her. “Notice anything odd while you were there?”

She chuckled. “Lots of things. Some people have a very strange idea of fashion. Can we get on with it? I want to get home even if you don’t.”

He was just trying to get a reaction out of her. He had nothing to go on except the name Malmos. Athena had left the planet before the explosion and nothing would point to her. Even so she felt a prickle of tension.

He stared at her for a moment. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”

Sara stepped aside. “You know the way.”

She followed the two men down to the hold and watched as they opened all the crates and checked the rest of the compartments. No matter how many times she’d endured these inspections, she was always a bit nervous when their scanners passed across the area in the bulkheads where her smuggling compartments were hidden. As usual, there was no reaction.

Colmas took two bottles of brandy from the case and put them aside. “Nice of you to give us a present.” Then he pressed a few buttons on his comlink and sent her a message. “That’s your customs bill. You’ll have to pay it before we release the goods.”

That was normal. A loader would come to collect the cargo and move it to the store planetside. When she’d paid the duty, she’d be allowed to collect.

Sara looked at the bill and winced. “Rates have gone up. Again. How am I supposed to make a profit?”

The odious man smiled. “Not my problem, lady.” He looked her up and down in a way that made her want to shower, then said, “Always lovely to see you. Have a nice day.”

He went through the external hatch, his companion a step behind him.

Leo waited until the two men had walked away. “A bit more thorough than usual?”

“Wasn’t it? Maybe because of those warships. Maybe because Malchor is making a fuss about his weapons shipment. Privately, of course.”

He shot her a glance. “He was getting a bit close to home talking about Malmos.”

She shook her head. “No. He’s an obnoxious little creep trying to get a cheap thrill out of making people think he’s accusing them of something. All he cares about is lining his own pocket. I’ll bet he doesn’t even know about the damaged freighter.”

“Maybe,” Leo said. “Let’s get through immigration and grab a beer before we go home. There might be some gossip in the tavern.”

Sara nodded. “Good idea.”

They arrived at the station’s shuttle bay in time to catch the flight down to the spaceport. Immigration for residents returning home was straight-forward after a bioscan. Sara detoured to the customs desk to pay the duty she owed and arranged for the courier to take the goods to Leo’s apartment. That done, she and Leo left the terminal.

The golden glow of late afternoon bathed the town. The older buildings clustered around the terminal might be showing their age, but they had charm because of that, contrasting with the soulless apartment towers a few streets back. Sara and Leo scampered across a roadway busy with pedestrians and people riding scooters.

The Nebula Nights tavern, the closest bar to the spaceport’s dirtside terminal, was first port of call for a host of regulars and visitors to the planet.

And, it seemed, quite a few uniformed Fleet personnel.

The crowded front bar pulsed with energy, a symphony of conversation, laughter, and the clink of glasses. Dim, warm lighting gave a suggestion of intimacy to the booths along the back wall. They eased into the room, avoiding a server droid carrying a laden tray, and managed to snag a table when a couple of guys in shipsuits left. Leo ordered drinks from the table menu, a beer for him, white wine for her.

While they waited Sara gazed around the room.

The people in white were crew from a cruise liner she’d noticed in orbit. The lot in the corner wore uniforms with a patch denoting Fornost Shipping. They would be crew from the large freighter they’d passed coming in. The rowdy group by the wall were Fleet. Some of the local ladies of the night were trying their luck with the cashed-up marines, with obvious success. The upstairs rooms in the tavern would be bouncing tonight.

A service droid arrived, lowering the platform where it held the drinks so it could place them on the table. Leo tossed down half of his beer in a moment. “Ah. That was nice. There’s nothing quite like your local brew.”

The din in the room lessened.

Two armed police had come inside, not the usual cops on the beat. The man and woman wore the fist and lightning symbol of Malchor’s security service, colloquially known as rozzers. They swaggered around the room gazing narrow-eyed at the patrons.

They contented themselves with staring at the fleeters and the cruise liner crew but demanded the Fornost crew produce their IDs. A couple of them were searched. That done, they moved on.

Toward Sara and Leo.

Sara’s heart beat a little faster. Settle down, they’re just fishing.

“Turn your chip off,” she said in Leo’s head. She pressed a button on her comlink to switch off access to her cranial chip.

He responded with a tiny nod.

The pair stopped at their table, hands on the pistols at their waists. A couple of Malchor’s finest, bullies abusing what power they had. Sara did her best to hide her contempt. Best to go with the flow. The sooner they finished, the sooner they’d go away.

The tall woman with the welded-on sneer got no result from her scanner and thrust out her hand at Leo. “Let’s see your ID.”

Leo handed over his card and she scanned it. “You’re just landed?”

“That’s right.”

“Where from?” She was reading from her comlink, so she knew where from. Stay cool, Leo.

“Coming home from Malmos.”

“Malmos, eh?” Still holding Leo’s card, she turned to Sara. “Card.”

She produced her ID card from a top pocket and handed it over. The officer scanned it. “You’re just in from Malmos, too?”

“That’s right.”

“Stand up.” She snapped the word.

Sara climbed off the stool. Typical security police, using terror tactics because they could.

“Legs apart, arms apart.”

Sara complied.

The woman took out her pistol and gestured to her companion. “Search her.”

The other grinning goon patted her down, being sure to grope her as he did so. He muttered, “nice” under his breath. Sara fought not to kick him on his ass while the woman enjoyed the show with vicious glee.

The officer straightened and stepped back. “Nothing.” He leered at her. “I can look again if you like.”

“Nah, you’ve had your fun. Search him.” She pointed at Leo.

Sara noted the rozzer wasn’t quite as intrusive with him but every bit as thorough. Still, they weren’t really expecting to find anything. This was all for show.

The woman shoved their cards back at them, giving them each a cautionary glare.

After the two officers left the tavern, the buzz of conversation picked up again. Sara switched her implant back on.

“You okay, Sara?” Leo said via her implant.

“Yes. Little people with a little bit of authority that’s gone to their heads.”

“Were they looking for someone in particular, d’you think?”

Sara grinned. “Nah. They’re pretending to be investigating but they’re really just enjoying themselves bullying people. There’s Mandy. If anybody knows anything, it’ll be her.”

She went to the bar, slipping in beside two people in Fornost shipsuits talking to each other and waved at the barmaid.

Mandy had worked at Nebula Nights for as long as Sara had been coming here, an older, well-upholstered woman with a ready smile, the sort that encouraged people to talk.

“Hiya, Sara. Just home?”

“Yes. Just got in from Malmos. I’ll have a white wine and a large beer, please. There seem to be a lot of coppers around.”

Mandy took out the wine bottle and a new glass. “More than usual. They’re there to keep the Fleet in line.”

“Speaking of which, there are plenty of them here.”

Mandy poured the beer, letting the generous head ooze down the glass, and handed the drinks over. “Suits me. Business has boomed.”

Sara paid in cash with a good tip, which Mandy pocketed. “Why are the Feds here? Any gossip?”

The woman grinned. She made a show of looking around, then leaned over the bar. “Not so much about the Feds. Seems to be a goodwill visit. But there’s a whisper that a cargo ship coming in from Malmos was wasted a few days ago. Some people reckon it was that terrorist group, Nemesis. I’m guessing that’s why the rozzers came in.”

“Really?” Sara did her best to look astonished. “Where was this?”

Mandy waved her hand, pointing at the ceiling. “Out there. On the way here, apparently.”

Sara snorted. “And they think it was Nemesis? That’s ridiculous. They’re just a bunch of local rowdies.”

Mandy shrugged. “They’re doing a lot of checking, for what it’s worth. And feeling up all the good-looking women. It wasn’t just you.” She moved away to serve somebody else.

One of the two Fornost people, an attractive young woman with short dark hair, turned to her. “I noticed you got patted down, too. Assholes.”

“You’re right about that. You, too, eh? Any idea what they’re looking for?”

“Who knows?” She leaned toward Sara and lowered her voice. “But there’s a rumor that it was one of Fornost’s ships that was hit.”

“Really?”

She nodded. “Yep. And they’re certainly getting heavy with security on our ship, too.”

“It must be a worry,” Sara said.

The woman nodded. “It’s a bit scary to think you can just be doing your job and then you’re shrapnel.”

The other Fornost crew member said, “The warship sent a squad to check our ship for bombs. That makes us feel a bit better.”

Sara took the drinks back to the table. Leo was just draining his beer when she sat down. “Any news?”

She told him what Mandy and the two Fornost crew had said.

On her implant, he said, “I had a look at the news. They’ve reported a ship was destroyed but not its name or what was on board.”

“They wouldn’t, would they?” Not when Sara had destroyed twenty crates of proton missiles and a stack of arms meant for Malchor’s army. She sipped at her wine, no longer wanting it, no longer wanting to be in this too noisy, fume-filled atmosphere.

Leo’s eyes lit up. “Well, well.”

He’d spied a couple of attractive young women who had just walked in and were looking around for a seat.

“Look, um. D’you mind if I..?” he jerked his head toward them.

She stood. “I’ll get out of your way. I’m going home. Catch up with me tomorrow, okay?”

“Yes, boss.” He threw her a mock salute and beckoned to the women.

Leo was a good-looking guy with glossy, dark brown hair that hung around his shoulders, and dark, come-to-bed eyes. No wonder the girls noticed him. But he wasn’t her type. After an initial knock-back, Leo had accepted that they’d just be friends. The arrangement had worked well for years. She wished him luck with the two ladies. He would have some competition from the Feds tonight.

Outside, the streets were settling down. The shoppers and workers going home had been replaced by people wanting an evening out. Lights on hoardings and in windows began to compete with the twilight.

Sara called down a taxi and directed it to her apartment in a block at the edge of the city. She lived in a gated community with five modern towers, all using far more AI technology than most of Mythralis.

The taxi settled on her private landing pad on the tenth floor long enough for her to get out, then headed back to the city to wait for the next customer.

Jason, her apartment’s AI, acknowledged her arrival in his soft, tenor voice. “Welcome home, Sara. I trust you had a good trip?”

“Thanks, I did. But it’s nice to be home.”

Sara went to the bedroom and changed out of her shipsuit into casual trousers and a top, and unpacked her duffel. That done, she collected a glass of water from the dispenser and draped herself on the sofa. “What’s in the news about a cargo ship being destroyed?”

“There are reports that a cargo ship was damaged on the way from a factory on Malmos to Anaris. None of the crew of six was injured. That is all.”

No crew losses. She’d tried to make sure there were none, but it was always a relief to have it confirmed. As for damaged… Huh. Permanently damaged.

That ship wouldn’t be going anywhere for a long time if it didn’t end up in the scrap yard. The media had been fed a story. Nothing to see here. Typical. But she’d bet Malchor was beside himself. He would have paid a lot of money, Anaris taxpayer money, for those missiles and the other munitions. They wouldn’t be using any of it against the planet’s resistance groups.

“No mention of why it exploded?”

“Nothing.”

Which didn’t mean they didn’t suspect anything.

“What can you tell me about that Confederacy fleet in our orbit?”

“The media reports announce that it is a goodwill visit and an opportunity for the complement of marines to engage in war games with Anaris’s military.”

“Really? Gosh, when Malchor’s got his very own guerilla war happening on Anaris right now.” Sara raised her glass in silent salute to the rebels.

“Would you like to see the vision of Malchor greeting the fleet’s commanding admiral, Fyn Nielsen?” Jason asked.

Sara paused, the glass halfway to her lips. Fyn. Her hand shook enough for her to put the glass down. “Let’s see it.”

The vision appeared on the screen, the Confederacy admiral and Miserable Malchor together. She sat upright, her heart thundering.

Fyn.