Книга: On The Imperium ’s Secret Service

On The Imperium’s Secret Service

Christopher Nuttall

http://www.chrishanger.net

http://chrishanger.wordpress.com/

http://www.facebook.com/ChristopherGNuttall

All Comments Welcome!

Cover Blurb

The Imperium; a million worlds, trillions upon trillions of humans and aliens, an empire that dominates half the galaxy...an empire that is falling into chaos, revolution and civil war.  Only a handful of people are struggling to keep the Imperium together, knowing that the brutality of its rule is infinitively preferable to the chaos of its fall.  This is their story.

Mariko and her sister were independent shippers and ace pilots, until they ran afoul of the law on a minor planet and ended up jailed and enslaved.  Their new owner, Lord Fitz, seems to be nothing more than another harmless aristocrat with more money than sense – and besides, at least they can keep flying spacecraft.

But Fitz isn't all he seems.  He works for Imperial Intelligence, attempting to track down and destroy the Secessionist Movement before it launches a plan that threatens the very heart of the Imperium – and Mariko and her sister have just become his latest tools.  But as they are drawn deeper into the seedy underside of the Imperium, one question comes to dominate their minds...

Does the Imperium even deserve to survive?

Foreword

One of the ideas I have been working on as a Kindle writer is a set of books set in the same universe, but written by different writers.  These wouldn't be collaborations (collaborations can be tricky), just different stories set in the same universe.  I went through my earlier books and decided that On The Imperium’s Secret Service (which had been intended as the start of a series, if The Empire’s Corps fell through) would serve as the introduction to the shared universe.

If you like this book and you’re interested in reading more stories set in the Imperium, please don’t hesitate to post on my facebook page or discussion forum.  And if you write kindle books yourself and you want to write one for this universe, please feel free to contact me.

As always, I welcome comments, feedback, spelling corrections and good reviews <grin>.

Christopher Nuttall

Chapter One

“Hey, bitches!”

Mariko looked up as one of the prison guards came bursting into the underground complex where they’d been held ever since they’d been arrested.  She’d lost track of time as the days wore on, leaving her unsure if they’d been held for a week or much longer.  The other prisoners hadn't been much help; they’d either been shipped out to start their sentences or bribed the guards enough to secure their release before they’d been willing to chat openly with the girls.

The guard leered down at her as he stopped outside her cage.  It was a neat prison, she had to admit, a network of wired cages that allowed the guards to move freely without giving the prisoners a chance to plan an escape together.  And even if they had managed to break out, where would they go?  Mariko and Mai, her sister, both had the Japanese features that had been engineered into their line by their distant ancestors.  They’d stick out like sore thumbs on Dorado and their freighter, according to the guards had been confiscated and sold for a small profit.  The guards had claimed that the profits had barely been enough to pay for their stay in prison.

“The bidding war has been completed,” the guard informed her.  He smiled as he heard Mai gasp from behind him.  Mariko winced.  Her sister was only sixteen, barely old enough to be allowed out on her own...and now she was looking at lifetime involuntary servitude as punishment for a crime she hadn't committed.  “Your new owner should be along to take custody of you within the hour.”

Mariko blanched.  Despite herself, she’d hoped – prayed – that there would be a way out of the trap, but nothing had ever materialised.  Their father was rich enough to pay a ransom, yet there wasn't enough money in the universe to soothe the man they’d offended.  And yet what else could they have done?

It had been less than six months since they’d left their homeworld and headed out to the Rim, the very outskirts of the Imperium itself.  As independent freighter owners, they could hope to make a reasonable profit and perhaps even found a proper shipping line of their own, but first they had to make contacts and build a reputation.  Dorado was one of the worlds which lay off most of the shipping lanes, so she’d decided that they should go and see if the world had anything to offer the rest of the sector.  In hindsight, it was clear that most of the bigger shipping corporations had good reasons not to visit Dorado.

The first two days had gone well; well enough that she’d agreed to visit a nightclub near the spaceport with her sister.  There, Mai had caught the attention of a half-drunk local who had tried to ply her with drink, and then, when she proved resistant, had tried to have his way with her by force.  Mariko had stepped in and kicked her sister’s assailant in the groin, only to discover – too late – that the bastard had had friends.  The beating they’d received had been savage, and when the local police had finally arrived they’d arrested the two sisters instead of the local youths.  And then Mariko had discovered that the man she’d kicked in the groin was actually the son of one of the local aristocrats, the big men who ran the planet.

She’d tried to argue, but the local courts were as corrupt as they came.  Their trial had been brief, formal and edgy; the judge had dismissed their pleas and sentenced them to involuntary servitude.  Carlos – the man she’d assaulted – had watched them from the audience as sentence was passed, his eyes silently promising bloody revenge for what had happened to him.  Mariko had no doubt that Carlos would win the bidding for a pair of slaves, even though slavery was technically outlawed within the Imperium, and when they fell into his hands...

It would be horrible.  Of that, she had absolutely no doubts at all.

“Perhaps you should have considered entertaining us a little,” the guard said, his eyes leaving a trail of slime all over her breasts.  There was no official prison uniform and so they’d been forced to wear what remained of the clothing they’d worn when they’d been arrested.  It had been falling apart even then.  “Some of us even considered bidding on you when the reserve price was announced.”

Mariko doubted that it would have made any difference.  From what the other prisoners had said, life was cheap on Dorado.  The police, who existed more to enforce the rules laid down by the wealthiest men on the planet, wouldn't have been able to do more than drive the price up a little for a matched set of exotic slave girls.  They’d probably console themselves with a visit to the nearest brothel while Mariko and Mai found themselves entertaining Carlos.  The guards had been quite happy to tell them all about Carlos and his tastes...and if half of them were true, Mariko knew that Mai would not survive the first night.  Her sister was younger and vulnerable; she’d never even had a boyfriend before leaving their homeworld.  All Mariko could do was pray that Carlos fell asleep next to her, giving her an opportunity to slit the bastard’s throat.  His father would have her killed for it, but it would be worth it if she took him down first.

The guard stepped back and turned to look at Mai.  Mariko’s sister had retreated into herself ever since they’d been arrested, almost as if she was in a permanent state of shock.  Mariko wanted to hold her, to promise her that everything would be all right, but the guards hadn't even allowed them to share a cell.  It was yet another form of torment for two prisoners who they hadn’t been allowed to touch physically.  Whatever they had said, their actions suggested that they would have raped both girls if Carlos hadn't been interested in them.  They’d certainly raped another female prisoner, in full view of all of the other prisoners, before taking her out of the prison to an unknown fate.  But maybe even that would have been preferable to spending the rest of her life as Carlos’s slave.

She covered her eyes, allowing her long black hair to fall over her face.  Coming to Dorado had been the biggest mistake of her life, she knew that now.  Her ambitions had led her to overlook the signs of trouble on the planet; her determination to enjoy her life had caused her to agree to go away from the spaceport and find a place to relax.  And she’d led her sister to her doom.  The planet didn't even have a wormhole station that was connected to the interstellar communications network.  She couldn’t send a message home begging for help.

A whimper from Mai caught her attention and she looked up.  The guard was reaching through the bars, his hand clutching Mai’s breast.  Mariko felt a flash of dull helpless anger even as she stumbled to her feet, trying to reach out to the guard and pull him away from her sister.  The guard glanced back, smirked at her, and then moved just out of her reach.  Mariko watched helplessly as he groped Mai, who seemed unable to even crawl away from him.  Her sister’s spirit had been broken and it was all her fault.  And there was nothing she could do to save Mai from facing a lifetime of servitude.

She gritted her teeth and called out to the guard.  “Let her go,” she said, trying to sound inviting.  “Let her go and I’ll...I’ll suck you off.”

The guard let go of Mai at once, his hands reaching down to his pants.  Mariko winced inwardly as his manhood, already hard, sprang out of confinement.  He stroked it twice and then stepped towards her, inviting her to take it into his mouth.  Mariko braced herself, trying not to breathe, and then grabbed his testicles in both hands, hard.  The guard let out a bellow of pain as she squeezed, trying her hardest to crush them before someone arrived to save her victim from his well-deserved punishment.  Mariko heard the sound of footsteps just before someone struck her with a shock-rod.  The guard screamed louder as Mariko let go of him and flopped to the floor, her entire body twitching with the residue of the electric shock.  He had to have taken some of the shock himself.  They’d certainly been in bodily contact when his comrade had zapped her.

She would have laughed as the other guards had started to work on her cell door, if it hadn't been so hard to even stutter.  The guards looked merciless, even the female bitches who were often worse than the men.  Their comrade had been hurt and they wanted to punish her.  Even the thought of what Carlos would say, or do, in response to any visible damage wouldn't deter them.  At least they were focusing on her, rather than Mai.  Her sister would have a chance to recover before they turned their attention back to her.  And perhaps they’d cut her throat after they’d used her, spiting Carlos at the final moment.

The first guard came into the cell, picked up Mariko’s twitching body and pushed it against the bars.  She grunted in pain as he locked her hands to the metal and then started tearing at her clothes.  Oddly, she felt herself growing distant from the scene in front of her, feeling more contempt than fear for the men who intended to torture and rape her.  Dorado might never be a paradise, but if men like Carlos’s father and these thugs who passed for police officers and guards were removed, perhaps the ordinary human and alien citizens would have a chance at a better life.  Instead, they tolerated them out of fear, or the cold knowledge that without them the aliens who worked the plantations would turn on the humans.  How could anyone consider it worth the price?

A hand touched her bared breast and she shuddered, trying not to show any sign of pain.  It started to grip tightly as she closed her eyes, and then stopped.  It took her a moment to realise that the other guards had fallen silent too.  And then the hand fell away from her and she opened her eyes.

There was a newcomer in the underground prison.  He wore the black top hat and dinner jacket of a person of true importance, a Class One Citizen from Homeworld itself.  His face was handsome, almost too handsome to be real; his dark eyes seemed to flicker over her position for a moment before they narrowed in disapproval.  He carried a black cane, topped with a silver bird’s head, in one hand, leaning on it in a languid pose that suggested that he'd seen it all before and he hadn't been impressed the first time.  The guards stared at him, as well they might.  No one on Dorado, as far as Mariko knew, would have worn such an outfit unless they were trying to pass as a Grand Senator from Homeworld.  Even Carlos, for all of his local power and influence, couldn't match a Grand Senator, or even the least of their relatives.  Such men had enough money to buy entire star systems.

“Good morning,” the stranger said.  His voice had the aristocratic tones of Homeworld too, a slow drawl that suggested that the speaker knew himself to be the most powerful person in the room.  “I came to pick up my property.  I trust that I have not come too early?”

He stepped forward, the cane rapping out his footsteps on the stone floor.  “What do you think you are doing to her?”

The guards looked at their chief, a man who seemed to enjoy the perks of his career as a jail supervisor.  “We...we were teaching the bitch some manners,” he said, finally.  Mariko had never heard someone sound so terrified before, even her mother when she’d pleaded with their father not to allow the girls to set out on their own.  “She injured one of my men.”

“I did not pay fifty thousand credits for damaged goods,” the stranger said.  There was something about his voice that suggested that there would be unpleasant consequences in the future.  Fifty thousand credits!  Mariko knew that the value of the Imperium’s Credit had been declining for centuries, but one could still buy a bulk freighter for fifty thousand credits and have spare change to hire a crew.  “I am The Honourable Lord Fitzgerald d'Anconia Narragansett Grytpype-Thynne.  We do not pay anything for damaged goods.”

Mariko felt her eyes widen in shock.  The Grytpype-Thynne Family was a legend, one of the oldest of the families that made up the Grand Senate.  There was no way to know how Lord Fitzgerald was related to the Grand Senator who headed the family, but there was no doubt that they would respond to an insult to their name.  The next visitors to Dorado might be a squadron from the Imperial Navy, intent on teaching the locals some manners.  It had happened before and would probably happen again.

Lord Fitzgerald glanced at her again and shook his head.  Unlike the guards, he didn't seem to linger on her body.  “Release her,” he ordered, “and then open her sister’s cage.”

The guard stared at him.  “But they’re dangerous criminals...”

“...Who happen to be my property,” Lord Fitzgerald said, firmly.  Mariko felt herself blanch inside.  She was a slave now.  The only good thing about it was that Lord Fitzgerald didn't seem to be like Carlos.  Maybe he’d decided to buy them on a lark and he’d give them their freedom sooner or later.  “Release them, and then go find their property.  I paid for that to be included in the auction.”

“Yes, Milord,” the guard said, and started barking orders at his subordinates.  The guard Mariko had hurt was helped to his feet and dragged off to the medical bay, where he would probably be given some painkiller and told to get back to work.  Dorado was not known for having a good healthcare system, unless one happened to be rich and powerful.  “I’m afraid that some of their property was taken before we managed to secure their ship.”

“I’m sure it was,” Lord Fitzgerald said, dryly.  The police would have gone through their property, taken anything interesting or valuable, and then shipped the rest to the prison, where the guards would see if they found anything interesting or valuable.  Mariko had no idea how much of their property had survived long enough to be sold with them, but right now she found it hard to care.  They wouldn't have been able to take the funds from their Imperial Credit Bank account.  There would be enough there to get transport back home, if necessary.  “Now, leave us.”

Mariko slumped to the floor as the handcuffs were removed, her body still tingling after she’d been shocked.  Lord Fitzgerald walked over and offered her a hand, helping her to her feet, before stepping aside to allow her to hug Mai tightly.  Her sister was crying openly, as if she thought that they’d been reprieved – and in a sense, they had been.  Surely Lord Fitzgerald couldn't be as bad as Carlos.

“I was given to understand that you were both qualified space pilots,” Lord Fitzgerald said, after a moment.  He’d been kind enough to let them hug each other before interrupting.  “Is that true?”

“Yes, sir,” Mariko said.  The qualifications had been why they’d been allowed to purchase a freighter and set off on their own, although on Dorado she suspected that it was easier to bribe the local Imperial Shipping Officer than actually sit for the exams.  Maybe Lord Fitzgerald had had reason to distrust the local claims when he’d entered the auction.  “We were both tested on Edo two years ago – our files should be accessible if you use the codes on our ID cards.”

“Which isn't actually possible on Dorado,” Lord Fitzgerald said, dryly.  Mariko flushed.  She should have realised that that wouldn't be immediately possible.  Lord Fitzgerald might have had enough money to buy the planet and everyone on it, but he couldn't alter simple geographical realities.  The nearest system with a wormhole station was twenty-three light years away.  “But rest assured I will inspect them once they are back in your hands.”

He turned and led them out of the prison complex, up a long flight of stairs and into a large open room that had clearly been designated as the clearing house.  Most of the guards had vanished, but two had remained to sort out the boxes containing everything they’d taken from the Happy Wanderer.  Seeing the small pile of clothing and a handful of datachips made her wince.  Their property had been pawed by strangers and most of the good stuff was gone.

“Here, Milord,” she said, as she recovered the wallets containing their ID cards.  They, at least, were difficult to fake without causing major problems for anyone who actually tried to use them.  “You should be able to check the certificates easily.”

Lord Fitzgerald nodded and pulled a reader out of his suit’s pocket.  Mariko left him to it and concentrated on digging through the boxes.  The searchers had had odd priorities.  Some fashionable clothes from Edo had been ignored, but they’d taken all of her sexy underwear and a handful of short skirts.  The strictly boring underwear she wore while in deep space had been left behind, as had her shipsuit.  But Mai’s shipsuit – which was more fashionable – was gone.

“Dress quickly,” Lord Fitzgerald said.  Mariko remembered their position and scrambled to put on some clothes, urging Mai to do the same.  They were his slaves – and would remain that way until he let them go.  No one would protect them against a Grand Senator’s family.  “We have a great deal of work to do.”

But it could be worse, Mariko told herself firmly.  It could be a great deal worse.

Chapter Two

The air was hot and muggy, smelling of burning hydrocarbons and cooking mixed together into an unpleasant stench that pervaded the capital city, but it seemed heavenly compared to the prison.  They hadn’t been allowed to shower, let alone wash themselves thoroughly, and Mariko was painfully aware of her own smell.  The prison had been so bad that she’d worried that they might catch something their enhanced immune systems wouldn't be able to handle.  Now...

Lord Fitzgerald didn't seem to notice how badly his slave girls smelled, but Mariko knew that they couldn't go into public smelling so badly, or everyone would be staring at them.  It was bad enough that they had just walked out of jail with a man wearing clothes from the heights of society...she shook her head, smiling at herself.  She should be grateful that she was alive, if not free.  At least they weren't being marched to face Carlos’s tender mercies.

“I think we will make a brief stop at my hotel and then go shopping,” Lord Fitzgerald said, once they had climbed into a taxi.  The taxi driver seemed about to object until Lord Fitzgerald waved a sheaf of local currency under his nose.  Imperial Credits from Homeworld would go a long way on a third-rate planet on the edge of the Imperium.  “I trust that you have no objection?”

Mariko winced, inwardly.  They were slaves, little better than the Indents who made up most of the labour force along the Rim.  What would it matter if she objected?  “No, Milord,” she said, glancing over at Mai.  Her sister was staring at their buyer with wide admiring eyes.  He’d saved them both from a fate worse than death, after all.  “We do need a wash.”

The Hotel Imperial was easily the most expensive hotel on the planet.  She’d looked at it, trying to determine if the exchange rate between local currency and their small collection of various other currencies made it possible for them to stay there, but it would have been too expensive before they made several other shipping runs.  Lord Fitzgerald, on the other hand, would have had no problems paying for a week’s accommodation at the luxury hotel.  Mariko fought down a flash of envy as the taxi stopped outside the building, allowing them to walk inside and up a flight of stairs that led to a vast suite of rooms.  How could one man need all of that space?  She could have landed a small freighter in his suite without scraping the walls.

“There are towels and soup in the bathroom,” Lord Fitzgerald said.  He seemed oddly concerned for them, in a high-handed manner that Mariko wasn't sure she liked.  Maybe he was just taking care of his investment.  “Wash yourselves clean while I give your clothes to the chambermaids to wash.  We can burn them once we find you some new clothes.”

“Thank you, sir,” Mai said.  She started to undress right in front of him.  Mariko caught her arm and dragged her towards the bathroom, hoping desperately that Lord Fitzgerald hadn't wanted a show.  The guards had made it clear that slaves had no rights.  Even the customary legal protections accorded to indents, protections that were often simply ignored, didn't apply to people sentenced to involuntary servitude.  “Mariko...”

“We’re not safe yet,” Mariko hissed at her sister, the moment she closed the bathroom door behind them.  “We don’t know what he wants, remember?”

She sighed as Mai finished undressing and stepped into the shower.  Her sister was beautiful, her body showing hints of a more mature beauty to come when she finally grew up, yet she was now nothing more than a slave.  And even though she wasn't a slave to Carlos, she had little hope of escape.  Lord Fitzgerald could use them in any way he wanted and they would have no grounds to complain.  Maybe she ought to offer to do anything he wanted, provided only that he left her sister alone.  But why would he even consider making such a bargain?

Water splashed down over her as she joined her sister in the shower, using one of the sponges provided to scrub herself thoroughly.  Dirt and grime seemed to cascade off her body, revealing a handful of bruises from where the guards had beaten her before they tried to rape her.  Maybe Mai was right to think of Lord Fitzgerald as a kind of Prince Charming.  He’d saved them from being raped and he’d asked about their piloting licences, not about how good they might be in bed.  Maybe they’d find that he wasn't anything like as bad as Carlos.

Of course, that wouldn't be so difficult, she thought wryly.

***

One hour later, wearing clothes that had been cleaned by the chambermaids, they took a taxi into the richest part of Dorado City.  Mariko had been entranced the first time she’d seen the city, but looking on it with vastly more cynical eyes she could see the gulf between rich and poor on the planet.  There were fancy shops and restaurants for the wealthy, while the poor had to use tiny shops and small eateries set up in various alleyways.  Hundreds of youths, mainly human males, wandered about aimlessly, deprived of anything productive to do with their time.  The few aliens in the city kept themselves to themselves.  If Edo, one of the more cosmopolitan planets in the Imperium, had been able to give birth to anti-alien riots, what would it be like on a poor planet that had little hope for the future?  Carlos’s father probably used aliens as an excuse for the planet’s poor economic performance.

She frowned as she caught sight of a small convoy of vehicles passing through the town ahead of her.  Policemen surrounded it, keeping the crowds back and glaring about them at anyone who seemed likely to shout abuse or hurl things.  One of the local bosses, Mariko decided, moving from place to place with a police escort.  They clearly knew that their position was vulnerable; there was no reason why an uprising couldn't succeed in bringing down their government.  But then, why would they tolerate someone like Carlos?  They had to know that sheltering a rapist wouldn’t make them popular.

But it isn't about popularity, she thought, wishing that she’d had that insight before they’d even landed on the planet.  It’s about power.

The taxi stopped outside a mall and a uniformed man stepped forward, clearly hoping for a tip in exchange for helping them with their shopping.  Lord Fitzgerald dismissed him and led the way into the huge shopping mall, a building that seemed to be almost deserted.  Mariko couldn't understand how it was profitable; one look at the price for a new handbag almost made her faint.  Only the very wealthiest of the planet’s population could afford to buy coats imported from the Core Worlds, or bags made out of skinned animals from a dozen worlds across the galaxy.  The rest of the planet’s population would consider it nothing more than a mocking reminder of their own poverty.

Lord Fitzgerald led them into a small private eatery and motioned for them to sit down.  A fawning waitress, wearing a uniform that exposed most of her breasts and thighs, passed them three menus, but Lord Fitzgerald merely ordered roast beef and dumplings.  Mariko blinked in surprise and then ordered for herself and Mai.  Roast beef was incredibly expensive on a planet that couldn't be bothered to establish a proper food production and distribution system.  The prices were enough to make her blanch.  They offered sushi, but back home they could have bought an entire swimming pool of fish for the same amount of cash.  She ordered anyway, wondering if Lord Fitzgerald would refuse to pay, yet he said nothing.  It was all petty cash to him.

“So,” Lord Fitzgerald said, as soon as the waitress had departed with their orders, “how did you end up on this planet anyway?”

Mariko sighed and began to tell him the entire story.  Lord Fitzgerald was a good listener, she discovered to her surprise, and very good at asking questions to push her into revealing more than she had expected.  She skimmed through her determination to earn her own place in the galaxy, just like her father, and how eventually they’d purchased a freighter and set out to earn money.  It had been harder than she’d expected – and eventually they’d had a fight with the wrong person and ended up in jail.  God alone knew what Carlos would do when he realised that the objects of his ire had escaped his wrath.

“A moment of carelessness,” Lord Fitzgerald said, dryly.  Mariko nodded in rueful agreement.  Now they were washed and dressed, the horrors of the past seemed like a distant memory, a nightmare which was long over.  “But I’m sure that you will be more careful for the rest of your life.”

Mariko felt herself flush as the waitress returned with three plates of food.  Of course she’d be more careful; her life was no longer her own.  “I’ll do my best,” she muttered, and winced at his droll smile.  He probably knew exactly what she was thinking.  “What are you going to do with us?”

Lord Fitzgerald cut off a piece of beef and examined it thoughtfully before popping it into his mouth.  “I thought I’d take you shopping,” he said, blandly.  “You need a few sets of clothes if you’re going to be my retainers.  And you will probably want to replenish the supplies you had on your ship before it was confiscated.”

“They took our ship,” Mariko said, dully.  She’d fallen in love with the Happy Wanderer, ramshackle tramp freighter that she’d been.  Some Captains placed security programs onboard their ships to prevent customs officers from trying to seize them for non-payment of fees, but she’d never bothered to invest in one herself.  A mistake, all the more so because her ship had probably already been taken to another world.  She could have ensured that the person who purchased the ship found he’d inherited something useless.

Mai looked up.  “Couldn't you buy it back?”

“I’m afraid the new owner took it out-system,” Lord Fitzgerald said.  He shrugged, as if it wasn't a matter of great importance.  To him, it probably wasn’t a matter of great importance.  He took another slice of beef and chewed it thoughtfully.  “I suggest that you eat up, young ladies.  The food won’t last forever.”

They’d been overcharged, Mariko decided, a few moments later.  The sushi was appallingly bad, even by the standards of the cheap places she’d known as a young girl.  Hell, some of them had been much better than a place that charged exorbitant rates.  Dorado should have been able to afford a proper fishing industry – it wasn't as if the planetary survey report had found any good reason why fish from Homeworld couldn't be introduced into the planetary ecosystem – but instead the corruption infesting the planet had probably put anyone who tried to open a new industry out of business.  Mai was devouring something made of chicken with evident enjoyment.  At least one of them was going to be happy.

“I'm afraid I have business to attend to here,” Lord Fitzgerald said, when they’d finished their meal and paid the waitress.  He had even added a tip, to Mariko’s surprise.  Surely the roast beef hadn't been that good.  “You know what you need to buy for yourselves?”

“Yes, sir,” Mariko said.  She did have a good idea of what they needed, including some things she would have preferred not to have to show to Lord Fitzgerald.  He would probably find them rather upsetting.  “Where should we meet you afterwards?”

Lord Fitzgerald checked his watch and then nodded to himself.  “I’ll meet you down in the lobby in three hours,” he said.  He passed her a credit chip that made her blink in disbelief when she touched her thumb against the reader on the side.  She’d never seen an unlimited credit rating before, not even from some of her father’s wealthier customers.  Imperial Credits were good anywhere; they could buy everything in the store using the chip.  “Just remember that you have to carry everything you buy back to the shuttle.”

He winked at them and walked off, his cane tapping against the floor.  Mariko watched him go, staring at the chip as if she’d just been granted access to the Fountain of Youth, and then looked up at Mai.  Her sister was definitely smitten with Lord Fitzgerald.  Mariko sighed inwardly.  Her sister had always been a little naive – although she hadn't been much better when she’d believed what she’d been told about Dorado.  The planet’s representatives had had every reason to lie about the true state of affairs on their homeworld.

“Come on,” she said, pocketing the chip.  He’d shown an astonishing amount of trust in her by giving her the chip, knowing that she could use it to book passage to the nearest world with a wormhole station.  But perhaps it wasn't such a great gamble.  Everything she purchased would be registered in the computer records and he could have tracked them down with ease.  And there was no way that anyone would stop him from reclaiming his property.  “It’s time to go shopping.”

Disdaining the two fanciest clothing stores, she led Mai into a smaller store that seemed to have more reasonable prices.  Shipsuits were standardised everywhere, but she insisted on checking them all thoroughly before purchasing three pairs for herself and three pairs for Mai.  Lord Fitzgerald had hinted that they would have to look nice for him and so they found a set of dresses that showed off their assets for best advantage.  One of them looked uncomfortably like a wedding dress; the other two looked good enough for formal occasions, assuming that they were ever allowed to attend another formal again.  Class Four Citizens – Indents – were rarely allowed to have a social life.  Their owners believed that they stayed more productive without one.

Moving on to the next store, she purchased a selection of survival gear and a pair of computer readers to replace the ones that had been stolen by the policemen who had confiscated her ship.  Most datachips with stored books and videos were expensive, so she limited herself to a chip containing the complete works of Darrin Webster, a former Imperial Navy officer turned writer, and a chip with a thousand historic movies, the ones produced long before the Imperium started censoring new movies.  She hesitated for a long moment before picking up a pair of Mark-45 Krypton Blasters – whatever laws Dorado had on firearms ownership might refuse to allow them to buy the weapons – but the dealer didn't hesitate.  The colossal mark-up on the price probably allowed him to bribe the police if they ever came around sniffing for evidence of illegal arms trading.

“We should get some of those,” Mai said.  Mariko followed her gaze and winced again.  Mai was pointing right towards an expensive lingerie store, with a handful of holographic models doing things that made her blush.  “If we have to look nice for him...”

Mariko stared at her sister, and then realised that she might be right.  Lord Fitzgerald might not be as crude as Carlos, but he’d purchased them and he’d certainly expect to get his money’s worth.  Mai was a virgin, as far as Mariko knew, yet she’d come within a hairsbreadth of losing everything to a lout with more money and power than sense.  No wonder she was already clinging to Lord Fitzgerald and trying to make herself look nice for him.  He was the new rock of stability in her life.

Their mother had insisted that Mai was too young to set out on her own, even if she did have her elder sister taking care of her.  Mariko wished, not for the first time, that she’d listened to their mother.  If they’d stayed on Edo, they would never have been enslaved...but they would have been bored.  Now, of course, boredom was not a problem.  Boredom was good.

She allowed Mai to lead her over to the store and started trying on various outfits with the help of a pair of maids.  Some of them were just too shocking, even for her; other outfits were really nothing more than overpriced nightgowns.  Eventually, she selected a handful of bras and panties for herself and Mai, vetoing half of Mai’s choices.  Her sister seemed to have turned into a silly girl overnight.  Mariko felt another twinge of guilt to add to the problems already facing her.  She had brought Mai to this world.  She was to blame for her sister being molested and nearly raped by the police.  And she was to blame for their current state of enslavement.  All of the fancy clothes in the entire galaxy wouldn't change the fact that they were slaves, even if the chains were made of golden silk.  They might never be free again.

A noise from outside brought her back to herself.  All around them, the store owners were shutting up hastily, pulling down shutters and locking their doors.  The maids who had been helping them looked nervous as the noise grew louder, clearly expecting them to pay quickly and then depart before the source of the noise came closer.  It sounded like an angry mob shouting the same words over and over again.

“Independence!  Freedom!  Liberty!  Independence!  Freedom!  Liberty!”

They took the packages from the store and headed out towards the lobby.  A handful of armed security guards had already sealed the main entrance into the mall, leaving them trapped inside.  Lord Fitzgerald was seated in one chair by a small cafe, drinking something from a delicate cup.  He looked up at them as they arrived and motioned for them to take the other two chairs.

“You’re just in time for the show,” he said, airily.  “The Secessionists are in town.”

Chapter Three

“Independence!  Freedom!  Liberty!”

Mariko watched in surprise as the crowd slowly came into view, marching right through the richest part of the city with a solid determination that seemed to push through all opposition.  The police – and the private security guards – were fingering their weapons, but clearly unwilling to risk provoking an incident with the crowd.  Not all of the crowd was even human, she realised as they marched past the mall; there were at least a dozen different alien races represented in the march.  But then, the Secessionist League had always pushed for alien rights as well as independence from the decaying Imperium.

She hadn't paid much attention to local politics, but she had heard of the League – and of its enemies.  The League believed that the systems along the Rim were poor because their masters on Homeworld deliberately kept them poor, not least by piling crushing regulations and red-tape on any attempt to create a proper business.  Meanwhile, the massive interstellar corporations, with the clout to have the Imperium’s laws rewritten in their favour, moved in and took over, exploiting the locals mercilessly.  It was hard not to sympathise with the League for wanting to change the system.  She’d certainly had to spend days trying to fill in the forms for ownership of her own private freighter.

On Dorado, she guessed, the League would also be pushing against the established power order, including Carlos’s father.  They’d want to crack down on the League, but with so many of their own citizens joining the League a crackdown could have disastrous effects.  If the entire population, human and alien, rose in revolt, they’d never be able to maintain their power.  The Imperium would probably respond by dispatching a unit of Imperial Marines to restore order, but by then it would be too late for Carlos.  He’d be hanging from a local lamppost when the revolution finally started.

It was nearly an hour before the last of the marchers finally walked out of sight and the mall came slowly back to life.  Lord Fitzgerald sprang to his feet, paid the waiter for the tea he’d been drinking, and then studied the packages the girls were carrying before calling for another taxi.  A driver appeared out of nowhere and helped them carry the packages down to the car, waiting outside the mall.  Mariko wondered if she should carry the blasters before deciding that it was likely to be dangerous.  Ideally, she didn't want Lord Fitzgerald to know that they had them, or the rest of the survival gear.

The car roared to life and drove out towards the spaceport, rather than the hotel.  Mariko forced herself to relax as they headed out onto the highway - the one excellent road on the planet, she’d been told – and drove north.  Long-standing practice kept the planetary spaceports well away from settled areas, but Dorado hadn't bothered with the standard safety precaution.  A single crashing shuttle could kill hundreds of the poor people living in makeshift shacks along the road.  Yesterday, while she’d been in jail, she’d almost envied them.  Poor and hopeless they might be, but at least they weren't in jail.

But they might as well have been, she realised, as she studied the shantytowns and saw the listless faces of the people inside.  They had no jobs – and no hopes of getting them.  Their lives depended upon the food they could beg, borrow or steal from their social superiors.  She found it easy to believe that most of them would become criminals or prostitutes as they grew older, no matter how horrid the concepts seemed to her.  They had no other hope of survival.

On Edo, there were at least some jobs being created and educational systems to prepare children for a career in the Imperium.  But on Dorado...there was no hope.  How could there be, when the people in charge kept their boots firmly pressed down upon their people’s throats?  Educated citizens often became more discontented citizens.

The spaceport was surrounded by armed guards, twice as many as she remembered seeing the last time they’d left the spaceport.  Lord Fitzgerald spoke briefly to one of the guards and he waved them through without checking their paperwork or even their ID cards.

Mariko felt a tear welling in her eye as they drove into the spaceport itself and stopped outside one of the sealed hangers.  She’d been an independent trader-captain.  Now she was little more than a slave to a man she barely knew.  She looked at Lord Fitzgerald and saw him looking back at her, his bright eyes intent on...something.  He’d been privately evaluating her, she realised, and shivered inside.  She was nothing more than his property now.

Lord Fitzgerald climbed out of the taxi and pressed a key-card against the hanger door.  It hissed open, revealing a modern shuttle sitting inside, ready to launch through the hatch in the roof.  Dorado was too poor to afford the force fields that other spaceports used to protect shuttles and starships from the weather, even though most spacefaring craft would hardly be damaged by a downpour from high above.  Instead, they used solid hangers, making it far harder for anyone to take off without paying the proper landing fees.  Mariko had discovered, the hard way, that everything came with a charge.  They’d even tried to charge her for disposing of her ship’s waste.

“Wow,” Mai said.  “Are you going to let us fly that?”

Lord Fitzgerald smiled indulgently.  “Of course,” he said.  “She is a beauty, isn’t she?”

Mariko couldn't disagree.  The shuttle was a long thin craft, easily capable of carrying the three of them and their packages to orbit.  It even looked new, as if Lord Fitzgerald had bought it only yesterday.  Mariko was experienced enough to spot the subtle signs that the craft was much older than it looked, but even so...Mai had always been the one to love riding shuttles, as opposed to flying starships, yet Mariko found herself wondering if she would wind up competing with her sister over flying rights.  And yet it was great to see her sister slowly coming back to normal.

A trio of workers helped them load the shuttle, accepted a tip as though it was their due, and then departed as the hatch overhead slowly hissed open.  Lord Fitzgerald sat down in the pilot’s seat, tapped a command into the autopilot, and then stepped back to allow the computers to bring the engines online.  Mariko stared at him, unable to understand how someone could own such a craft without learning to fly it.  There were millions – probably billions – of people across the Imperium who would have sold their souls for such a shuttlecraft, something they could fly right across their star system if they chose.  Why would Lord Fitzgerald not know how to fly it?

She hesitated, and then asked why this was.

“I have people to do that for me,” Lord Fitzgerald said, grandly.  “Unfortunately, my last pilot suffered an accident on this planet and I needed a replacement.  Luckily, I heard about you two and decided that you were worth gambling on.”

The shuttle slowly rose into the air as the autopilot brought the thrusters online.  Mariko had never seen a computer intelligent enough to fly a shuttle on its own, even unimaginatively.  There were harrowing horror stories shared among pilots of what happened when the computers were trusted too much, even computer systems that were supposed to be the best of the best.  Computers simply didn't have the intuition of a human pilot, or the willingness to cut corners and safety regulations where necessary.  And they might believe what they were being told by the ATC system until it was too late.

But there was little flying through the sky to worry about, she told herself firmly.  She still felt nervous until the shuttle had cleared the atmosphere and started to head outwards, towards the holding orbits favoured by starships on brief visits to friendly worlds.  Dorado didn't have many ships in orbit, but she was surprised to notice a pair of bulk freighters and a converted light cruiser that was probably a pirate ship.  No one on the planet below would question the origin of any cheap goods that happened to be put on offer, even if they were still covered in blood.

A single starship, occupying an orbit of its own, slowly came into view through the shuttle’s cockpit.  Mariko felt another twinge of envy as the starship took on shape and form; a flattened arrowhead, painted a glowing white and gold.  She was easily sixty meters long, with two stubby wings that probably doubled as phase drive generators and nacelles, her hull smoothed in a manner that no military or commercial ship would have matched.  Her ship, wherever she was, had been a blocky ugly brick; this ship was almost beautiful.  And they were expected to fly it for a man too stupid to learn to fly it for himself?  How could anyone not learn how to fly their own ship?

Surprisingly, there was a second shuttle docked under the port wing; a classical assault shuttle design dating back several hundred years.  The Imperial Navy had withdrawn them from service long ago, selling off their remaining shuttles to private interests.  Hundreds of them had ended up on the Rim, being used by traders, smugglers and pirates alike.  Mariko had even planned to get one for the Happy Wanderer once they stuck it big.  Now...now they would be forever passengers on someone else’s ship, even if they were the pilots.

The shuttle altered course and came up under the starboard wing, docking with a gentle thud that ran through the ship.  Mariko was impressed to note that the artificial gravity didn't even fluctuate as the shuttle matched its fields with the starship.  A moment later, the hatch hissed open and Lord Fitzgerald led the way into his ship.  Mariko opened her mouth to ask what the ship was called and then stopped when she saw the name, carved neatly into the wooden panelling covering the bulkhead.  Bruce Wayne.

“Bruce Wayne?”  She repeated.  “Who was Bruce Wayne?”

“An old hero of mine,” Lord Fitzgerald said.  He didn't seem offended by the question, or by her ignorance.  “There was a fashion for naming private spaceships rather silly things in High Society.  I decided to name my ship after one of my heroes instead.  It is definitely better than Sticky Fingers or Pretty Mouth.”  He chuckled as he led them up a set of recessed stairs and onto the next deck.  “Do you both want to share a cabin or have your own individual cabins?”

“Share,” Mariko said.

“Separate,” Mai said, at the same time.

Lord Fitzgerald chuckled.  “I’ll assign you to two adjoining cabins,” he said.  “You don’t need to worry about water usage on this ship, so feel free to have another shower and get changed into something more suitable for ship duty.  After that, meet me in my lounge so we can have a proper chat about your duties.”

One of the recessed doorways hissed open at his touch, revealing a modest-sized cabin.  A ground-gripper, someone who had never left the planet that birthed them, would have been shocked at how small it was, but it was larger than Mariko had expected.  There was a bed, a handful of drawers under the bed, a wardrobe for their clothes and a tiny washroom.  And there was a water shower as well as the sonic showers she’d seen on other starships.  Only the most luxurious of ships carried water showers.

“There’s a small set of starship plans here,” Lord Fitzgerald said, picking up a set of papers and passing them to her.  “Take your time.  I’ll see you when you’re ready.”

He departed, leaving the two girls staring at each other.  Bruce Wayne had to be the most expensive starship Mariko had ever seen, let alone piloted.  The wooden panels on the wall, concealing the metal bulkheads underneath, would cost thousands of credits alone.  A brief glance at the starship plans revealed that Bruce Wayne seemed to have larger drives than would be standard in a ship of her size, at least a non-military ship.  How could one person – or even both of them – handle her?  Her computer systems had to be the most advanced and automated in the known galaxy.

“I think we’d better wash and dress,” Mariko said, finally.  They would have time for sorting out the rest of their purchases later.  The only thing she wanted to do was put the blasters in a drawer and bury them under her older clothes.  “Hurry up.  I don’t think we really want to keep him waiting.”

Twenty minutes later, she looked at herself in the mirror and smiled.  The new shipsuit fitted perfectly, giving her some protection in case there was a disaster onboard.  Anyone who wanted to qualify as a starship pilot had to know precisely what to do at all times – and which corners could not be safely cut, for any reason.  It would probably take several days to grow used to flying Bruce Wayne, but they should have the time.  The ship’s computers could probably throw simulations at them to give them some additional practice before something went genuinely wrong.

Mai stepped out of her cabin and struck a pose.  Mariko opened her mouth to object and then closed it again.  Mai’s shipsuit was at least one size too small, clinging to her body and showing off everything she had.  Their mother would have taken her hairbrush or slipper to Mai’s behind for wearing something so blatantly sexual, probably giving Mariko the same treatment afterwards for letting her sister show herself off so bluntly.  But what was the point of objecting now?  They were slaves and all the luxury around them belonged to someone else.

Lord Fitzgerald’s cabin was on deck two, easily the largest single compartment on the ship.  The first thing Mariko saw as she stepped inside was the stars hanging outside, burning relentlessly in the inky darkness of space; their light shining through a transparent panel to illuminate the bed at one end of the cabin.  Mariko wasn't too surprised.  It would probably be romantic to make love under the stars, if she’d gone to the bed of her own free will.

“Welcome aboard,” Lord Fitzgerald said.  He’d been studying their ID cards, using a reader of a design Mariko had never seen before.  The cards included their pilot licences and various other qualifications, some of which were almost meaningless.  “I trust that you like your cabins?”

“Yes, Milord,” Mariko said.  Lord Fitzgerald didn’t seem to have even looked at Mai, but she thought it was better that she did the talking.  “Sir...exactly what will we be doing for you?”

Lord Fitzgerald grinned at her.  “I need a pilot or two,” he said.  “Without one, this lovely ship becomes nothing more than a very expensive space station.  I am sure that such qualified pilots as yourselves will have no problems leaning how to fly Bruce Wayne.”

His expression sobered suddenly.  “I understand that you did not exactly...choose to join my crew,” he said.  Mariko nodded, quickly.  “And I don’t think that I would get the best out of you by keeping you in bondage.  So I have an offer for you.”

Mariko frowned, but said nothing.  “I had to pay fifty thousand credits for buying you both out of jail – and out of your friend Carlos’s tender clutches,” he continued.  “I am prepared to hire you both at a flat rate of one thousand credits per month...”

“One thousand credits...!”  Mai gasped.

“One thousand credits,” Lord Fitzgerald confirmed.  Mariko shared her sister’s shock.  The standard rates for pilots, even on the most prestigious shipping lines, were never very much over three hundred credits per month.  “I will also give you food, lodging and basic supplies as part of the arrangement.  Should you wish to be free of me, you can pay back the money I spent on you and we will separate peacefully.”

But at one thousand credits a month, who would want to go?  Mariko asked herself.  Lord Fitzgerald had to be insane, or simply too wealthy to understand the value of money.  A few years of working for him, after they had cleared their debt, would give them enough money to purchase a new freighter and start again.  And if they made contacts with others who were just as wealthy and powerful as Lord Fitzgerald, they would be well-placed to start a whole new shipping line.

“Your duties will be mainly piloting,” Lord Fitzgerald said.  “I may also require you to serve as escorts when I go planet-side, or accompany me on other...exclusions.  Those will be completely voluntary and I will pay you a bonus for them.  I trust that you find those conditions acceptable?”

Mariko found them too good to be true, but she couldn't think of any way that Lord Fitzgerald could want to trick them.  He would be perfectly within his rights to insist that they worked for free; after all, they were his slaves.  And yet he was offering them better wages than they could hope to find anywhere else.  Mariko would put up with a great deal for one thousand credits per month.

“Perfectly acceptable,” she said, finally.

Lord Fitzgerald grinned.  Perhaps he knew what she was thinking.  “I will draw up the contracts then,” he said.  “I suggest that you get some sleep.  I am expected at Tuff within the week and the death of my last pilot has already cost me several days.”

“We need to get checked out on the ship’s computers first,” Mariko said.  She wouldn't want to just take the helm without checking to make sure that she knew what she was doing first, at least unless they were under attack.  “What are you going to be doing on Tuff?”

Lord Fitzgerald’s grin grew wider.  “I'm going on safari,” he said.  “And you can come, too.”

Chapter Four

Bruce Wayne had a very odd bridge, but it took Mariko several moments to realise what was so odd about it.  The designer had clearly wanted to create a bridge that would convince the ship’s owner that they were just as important as a real starship commander – and he’d done it by giving the owner a command chair and a pair of consoles, even though the owner probably didn't know anything about flying the ship.  It was a waste of space, even though it looked remarkably elegant.  She resisted the temptation to sit down in the command chair and instead looked down at the helm console.  It was more advanced than the one on the Happy Wanderer, but it followed the same basic principles.  The designer wouldn't have wanted to risk creating a completely unique ship.

Tapping the controls, she brought up the standard menu and began to work her way through it, frowning as she did so.  Bruce Wayne seemed a very odd ship.  She was surprisingly overpowered for her size, with engines that matched the best the Imperial Navy could produce, all so heavily automated that one person could operate the entire ship from the bridge.  There was a stunning amount of redundancy built into the ship, allowing her to still slip into phase space even if one of the nacelles had been completely destroyed.  She carried no obvious weapons, but her shields were tough and she could probably outrun any pirate or kidnapper intent on bagging someone related to a Grand Senator.  Her hull was military-grade ablative compound, giving it a surprising amount of resistance even without her shields.  It looked almost as if the designer had set out to build an unarmed gunboat.

The first simulation appeared in front of her and she began to work her way through it, biting her lip as the simulation became more and more complicated.  Each simulation was intended to test the pilots to destruction, throwing more and more disasters at them as they overcame the last set of disasters.  Nothing like them had ever appeared in at least five thousand years of space travel, but that wasn't the point.  The point was to become intimately familiar with the starship and how it responded to different situations.

And Bruce Wayne responded magnificently.  If the simulations were accurate, and she saw no reason why they wouldn't be accurate, the ship she was flying was one of the most agile starships in space.  Even a military-grade gunboat would have problems keeping up with her, at least until she began to take damage.  The tiny crew – Mariko and Mai were the only real crewmembers – couldn’t hope to complete repairs in time to save their ship.  Bruce Wayne was so small, compared to a superdreadnaught, that even a light hit could be very dangerous, perhaps disabling the ship.  And once she was disabled she would be nothing more than a sitting duck.

Eventually, she looked up at the chronometer and discovered to her surprise that two hours had passed.  It hadn't felt like two hours, but then it never did.  Pilots became so involved in the simulations that they never felt time passing around them.  Mariko stood up, stretched a little to work the kinks out of her muscles, and walked towards the stairwell.  One thing Bruce Wayne lacked was an internal transport system.  She was so small that it was hardly necessary.

The ship’s interior was a surprising combination of standard and extraordinary.  Deck one housed the bridge, the starship’s control systems, sickbay and a handful of other vital facilities, all automated.  Mariko hoped that the auto-doctor was better than the last one she’d seen, as thousands of years of development couldn't give electronic doctors the same insight as flesh-and-blood doctors.  One of them had kept insisting that she was pregnant despite a scan revealing no trace of a growing child within her womb.  Lord Fitzgerald might be taking a terrible risk by relying so completely upon automated systems.  Mariko had some medical knowledge, as it was a legal requirement for commanding a starship, but not enough to do more than delay the end for someone badly injured.

Deck two held Lord Fitzgerald’s cabin, a kitchen and dining hall and a handful of other cabins that were clearly intended for aristocratic guests.  Mariko had taken a look inside one of the cabins and rolled her eyes at its grandeur: too much gold and silver for her tastes.  Deck three held their cabins, various supply rooms and a small machine shop, although she couldn't imagine why Lord Fitzgerald would want a machine shop.  Maybe his former pilot had been a metalworker and wanted to carry on with his hobby once he'd entered Lord Fitzgerald’s service.  It seemed to be as good an explanation as any other.  Deck four held the engines, some storage holds and a sealed room they had been told never to enter without permission.  Given how much they were being paid, Mariko had decided to keep her curiosity firmly under control.

The starship’s engines – a pair of modern fusion cores, producing more than enough power to run the entire ship at max – were housed towards the end of deck four.  Mariko watched inside and smiled as she saw Mai examining the computer systems and running automated diagnostics programs.  One thing she didn't like about Bruce Wayne was that her engines were sealed units, impossible for the crew to open and fix.  If they ran into an uncharted gravitational field in phase space they were likely to end up stranded in interstellar space, too far from an inhabited star system to signal for help.  The sublight drives wouldn't be enough to save them dying a very isolated death.

“These power cores are magnificent,” Mai said, as she entered the compartment.  She sounded happy...and more her old self.  “Do you know that we actually have four spares in the cargo holds?  We may not be able to fix these designs, but we could replace them if necessary.  Of course, we’d have to be sure that there was no damage to the connecting power channelling and distribution nodes...”

Mariko smiled as her sister chatted on.  She’d always been more of an engineer than a pilot, once admitting to Mariko that she would have preferred to serve on one of their father’s ships as an engineer, rather than commanding her own ship.  Their mother had been horrified when Mai had dismantled the family aircar to see how it went together – and then fixed it before her father could call a qualified engineer.  Privately, Mariko was much less impressed with the concept than Mai.  There was no guarantee that anything that hit the drive system would only knock out the power core.  Without a bigger crew, fixing all of the possible problems might be impossible.

“So,” Mai said, sitting back and grinning at her.  A patch of oil had marked her face and stained her suit, but she looked happy.  “What do you make of our new boss?”

“Very generous,” Mariko said.  She’d seen the contracts and read through them carefully before she’d signed them, but she hadn't been able to spot any hidden surprises.  Lord Fitzgerald simply didn't need to con them into anything.  A quick check through the ship’s computer database had revealed that he had an expense account big enough to buy most of the sector, assuming that he could find someone willing to sell.  “I think you like him far too much.”

Mai’s face changed slightly.  “Why shouldn't I like him?”

“Because he’s our boss,” Mariko said.  Her head was spinning.  Over the last two days, she’d gone from knowing that they were about to meet an awful fate to starting a new career as a wealthy aristocrat’s private pilots.  “And because he’s probably at least twice your age.”

“But does it matter?”  Mai asked.  “Mother always said that we should marry older men.”

Mariko bit down the response that came to mind.  Their mother was a strict traditionalist from a family that considered its daughters little more than pawns for expanding their influence and reputation.  They had taken a gamble by allowing one of their daughters to marry an up-and-coming tradesman, but it had paid off for them.  Until, of course, the time came when they found out their grandchildren had effectively become slaves.

“I don’t think he’d be interested in marriage,” Mariko said, finally.  “I think it’s time you started to work on the simulations on the bridge.”

“I suppose,” Mai said, reluctantly.  She needed to be checked out on the ship’s piloting systems before they left orbit.  Lord Fitzgerald had told them that he wanted to leave as soon as they felt comfortable piloting his ship to the point where she could slip into phase space.  “And what if he expresses an interest in me?”

Mariko tried to think of an answer and gave up.  There was nothing she could say.

***

“We’re ready to go, Milord,” Mariko said.  Lord Fitzgerald had been in his cabin during the hours the girls had spent learning how to fly his ship.  It was so simple that she couldn't understand why he hadn't bothered to learn himself.  What would happen to him if there was an accident and both of his pilots ended up dead?  “I request permission to take us out of orbit.”

“Granted,” Lord Fitzgerald said.  He didn't sound concerned.  “Do you want me on the bridge?”

The honest answer to that was no, but Mariko wasn’t sure if that was a good answer.  “If you want to watch, come onto the bridge,” she said.  “If not, there shouldn't be any problems down here.”

“I shall stay here,” Lord Fitzgerald said.  “Make sure you get some sleep once the ship is in phase space.  Tuff is not a very relaxing planet.”

Mariko nodded and returned to the bridge.  One advantage of being in orbit around Dorado was that it had almost no system in place to control the movements of orbiting systems.  A handful of low-orbit automated weapons platforms and a couple of cutters so old that they looked to be pre-Imperium weren't enough to protect the planet if someone nasty came calling, or stop Bruce Wayne from leaving orbit if she chose.  Mariko sent a burst transmission to the OTC anyway and closed the channel without giving them time to respond.

“Naughty,” Mai observed, from her console.  “Shouldn’t you wait for an acknowledgement?”

“No,” Mariko said, as Bruce Wayne came to life under her hands.  The starship was soon throbbing with more power than Happy Wanderer had ever enjoyed, although their old freighter had been a bulky brick with over four times the mass of Bruce Wayne.  She ran her hand down the list of commands that activated the drive completely, removing the interlocks that prevented the drive from coming to life accidentally.  “Let’s go, shall we?”

There was always something different about actually flying a starship, instead of working a simulation.  Mariko felt the ship shivering under her as she took direct control and started to navigate a path out of orbit and up towards the phase limit at the edge of the planet’s gravity field.  Bruce Wayne seemed to be friskier than any other ship she’d flown, almost as if she was pushing her pilot to go faster.  The hum of the drives grew louder as more power flooded into them, generating a drive field that pushed them forward.  Mariko found herself grinning as Dorado retreated behind them, leaving Carlos and his men to enjoy their lives of wealth and power on a godforsaken world.  Who knew?  Maybe the march they’d seen was merely the beginning of an uprising that would leave Dorado’s established power structure in ruins.

“The drives are handling well,” Mai said, thoughtfully.  “Power curves are nominal; little feedback...  Hell, if I didn't know better, I’d say that there was almost no feedback.  Whoever designed these systems knew what they were doing.”

Mariko nodded.  Drive field generators always produced feedback, feedback which wore away at the generators and eventually forced them to be replaced.  Most of her basic maintenance classes had been focused on preventive measures that saved the cost of replacing the generator.  But Bruce Wayne seemed to be advanced enough to minimise the effects of feedback.  She’d heard rumours about such generators, but the costs mentioned had been so high as to make them prohibitively expensive for almost everyone.  Lord Fitzgerald, clearly, could afford almost anything.  Just how rich was his family?

She shook her head a moment later.  A Grand Family’s wealth was almost impossible to describe in simple terms.  They’d have vast fortunes, but they’d also have corporate stocks and shares, massive patronage networks and thousands upon thousands of people who owed them a favour or two.  Turning back to the helm console, she activated the gravitational reader and studied the hazy line that marked the edge of the planet’s gravitational field.  They would cross it in less than five minutes.

“Check the phase drive,” she ordered.  They’d both already tested it twice, but they hadn't been running the sublight drives at the time.  “Is it still ready to go?”

“Yes,” Mai said, flatly.  She was never happy when her sister questioned her competence.  “The phase drive looks ready for instant activation and transit into phase space.”

“Good,” Mariko said, deciding not to make an issue of it.  The hazy line came closer and closer...and then they slipped across it.  “Prepare for activation in ten, nine, eight...”

A deeper hum ran through the ship as the phase drive came online and powered up.  “Ready,” Mai said.  “...Two, one...now!”

The stars in front of them seemed to twist into a whirling spiral of light and then winked out altogether, leaving nothing but the omnipresent darkness of phase space.  Bruce Wayne had effectively created a pocket dimension around herself that would allow her to travel faster than light.  A timer started counting down to the moment when the pocket dimension would collapse, returning her to normal space in another star system.  Four days, seven hours and twenty-one minutes.  Unless, of course, a pirate managed to track her course and set up an artificial gravity well in her path...

“See,” Mai said.  “I told you that the phase drive was working.”

The intercom beeped before Mariko could come up with a response.  “Well done, both of you,” Lord Fitzgerald said.  Mariko was tempted to point out that it was easy to fly a ship as advanced as Bruce Wayne, but kept it to herself.  “Please would both of you join me for dinner now?”

“Of course,” Mariko said.  It wasn't as if they had a choice.  “We’ll just check the drives and everything and then come join you.”

***

Happy Wanderer hadn't had a real kitchen; they’d had to make do with pre-packaged meals they’d purchased at military surplus stores.  Bruce Wayne did have a real kitchen, but it was evident that Lord Fitzgerald didn't know how to use it either.  Mariko couldn't understand why he hadn't brought along more staff members, even as she decided to simply heat up a packet of foodstuffs that Lord Fitzgerald had picked up from somewhere.  They were pilots, not cooks.  She knew better than to claim that she could cook when the best she could do was boil water and make coffee.

“Food isn't so important on this ship,” Lord Fitzgerald explained.  For all of his chatter, he seemed oddly diffident when it came to talking about himself.  But if he was ashamed of his own uselessness, why didn't he take lessons in piloting his ship, or cooking for himself?  “I used to serve in the Grenadier Guards.  Their cooking was appalling.”

Mariko blinked in surprise.  It seemed unlikely that Lord Fitzgerald had served in any military unit, certainly not one of the elite.  And even if he had, surely he would have taken his own staff with him when he’d transferred...no, she didn't think that she believed him.  He was just trying to impress them.

But Mai seemed fooled.  “Why didn’t you get them to cook better food?”

“It turned out that a consortium of senior officers were conspiring to use the food allowances they’d been set by their superiors to enrich themselves instead of feeding their men,” Lord Fitzgerald said.  “They bought the cheapest food they could find for the soldiers and pocketed the difference.  The Guards were on the brink of mutiny when they got their latest unqualified commanding officer whose parents had purchased his commission.  Me.  It took me several weeks to work out what was happening and then I made a stink about it.  But the conspirators had some highly-placed allies who were draining the military of its funding and a couple of them managed to frame me as being involved with the thieves.”

He shrugged.  “So I got given a choice between resigning my commission and taking a long vacation or being the star attraction at a drumhead court martial.  I thought about it for a few minutes, managed to secure the dismissal of the worst offenders and then resigned and went off on Bruce Wayne.  And then eventually I ended up at Dorado.”

Mariko took a bite of what tasted roughly like chicken and considered.  Could the story be true?  But surely anyone who had had any military experience would know more than Lord Fitzgerald?

The conversation went on and on into the night.  Mai listened to everything Lord Fitzgerald said and seemed to believe him, while telling him everything about their family.  Mariko could believe that their mother would be overjoyed at the thought of linking their family to a Grand Senator’s, even though it was unlikely ever to happen.  Lord Fitzgerald merely smiled and listened indulgently as Mai chatted on, before eventually rising to his feet and dismissing them.  They all needed sleep before starting the promised training sessions on the holographic creator.

“Good night,” he said, as he left the kitchen.  “Don’t forget to turn off the lights after you go to bed.”

Mai was still chuckling at the weak joke twenty minutes later.

Chapter Five

Galactic Standard Time was an illusion, one fostered by an Imperium that liked to believe that everything of importance marched to Homeworld’s drum.  Most starships operated according to the local time of their destination, allowing their crew and passengers to become accustomed to the environment without suffering starship lag.  Lord Fitzgerald had altered the ship’s clocks to follow Tuff’s local time, but it still felt like local night to Mariko.  It was local night on the planet they’d left behind.

She lay on her bed, staring up at the ceiling.  Their lives had changed overnight, from prisoners and slaves to...employees of a wandering aristocrat.  Part of her was unable to grasp how quickly everything had changed, even though she knew that they had good reason to be grateful.  They were free, or as free as they would ever be, actually taking wages for their services.  It wasn't quite the life of an independent trader she’d hoped for when they’d departed Edo, but at least they weren’t servicing Carlos.  And they could eventually buy themselves free and purchase another starship.

But she was worried, more worried than she wanted to admit, about Mai.  Her sister seemed to have changed during their time in jail, clinging to Lord Fitzgerald as if he was their saviour – and indeed, he had been their saviour.  Mariko had had her own crushes when she’d been younger and she knew how easy it was to delude oneself into believing that one’s affection was returned, but it might be dangerous to start any romance with Lord Fitzgerald.  Mai had followed their mother in reading all the social news from Homeworld, including hundreds of carefully-written articles praising the Imperium’s aristocracy.  She might believe that Lord Fitzgerald was a Prince Charming in truth.  Mariko, a little older and a little wiser, knew better.  Lord Fitzgerald might use Mai and then discard her, as so many other aristocrats had done to their young lovers.  Mariko would have understood if a romance came to its end; Mai was too young to understand that certain romances were doomed from the start.  Lord Fitzgerald would eventually be expected to have children and a Class Two Citizen, assuming that they were still considered Class Two, would not be a suitable mother.

Shaking her head, she stood up and picked up her nightgown.  One thing her father had taught her, more than once, was that if she had good reason to fear something, it was better to confront it directly.  Plain speaking, he’d said, was easier to understand than anything else, even if it did sometimes cause offense.  And that was most important of all when discussing marriage agreements.  Mariko knew that he’d rejected no less than three suitors for her hand because they hadn’t been blunt enough to suit him.  And because they didn’t bring anything he wanted or needed to the family.

Donning the nightgown, she stepped out of her cabin and into the darkened corridors.  The lights came on automatically, illuminating the wooden panelling and giving the whole ship a faintly spooky atmosphere.  It was possible to fly an advanced starship with one or two crewmembers, but it left the ship feeling isolated, almost abandoned.  Mariko had never had any problems onboard the Happy Wanderer, yet Bruce Wayne seemed to feel haunted.  Perhaps it was the ghost of Lord Fitzgerald’s dead pilot, she told herself; Lord Fitzgerald hadn't been very clear on how he’d died.  Cursing under her breath, she walked up to deck two, tapped a computer to check the status of the phase drive, and then stopped outside Lord Fitzgerald’s door.  She hesitated, just long enough to curse herself for her own cowardice, and pressed her hand against the door chime.  There was a long pause and then it hissed open, revealing a fully-lighted cabin.  Lord Fitzgerald sat in an armchair, reading a datapad.  He looked up at her as she entered his cabin and smiled.

“Can’t sleep?”

“No, Milord,” Mariko admitted, feeling herself flush.  She was tired, and she knew that she needed to sleep before they started running more simulations tomorrow, but she also felt too keyed up to sleep.  “I wanted to talk to you.”

“Draw some hot milk from the producer,” Lord Fitzgerald said, waving towards a small drinks machine set into the nearest bulkhead.  Mariko had seen a small collection of expensive wines and other drinks in the kitchen, but it seemed that Lord Fitzgerald was not in the habit of drinking to excess.  There certainly didn't seem to be any alcohol in his cabin.  “And then have a seat and talk to me.”

He put the datapad aside, blanking the screen first, and looked up at her expectantly.  Mariko wondered if he’d been accessing porn or something else he would have preferred not to share with anyone else, but there was no way to know.  Besides, she wasn't sure that she wanted to know.  Lord Fitzgerald seemed more of a decent aristocratic fop than anything else.  Or perhaps not.  He was wearing a pair of tight pyjamas and it was alarmingly clear that he was stronger physically than she had expected.  It might have been the product of the body shops, or genetic modification like her own, but it was still surprising.  She hadn’t seen him lift anything heavier than a knife and fork.

Mariko settled down and studied him for a long moment, trying to decide what to say.  She knew how to bargain with other traders, or planet-side shipping agents, but she’d never had to broach such a delicate subject with anyone.  The hot milk tasted good in her mouth, good enough to make her feel like yawning.  Lord Fitzgerald merely watched her and waited patiently for her to speak.  Unlike some of the spoiled children she’d known from Edo, he seemed perfectly capable of waiting without becoming impatient.

“I need to talk to you,” she said, finally.  Lord Fitzgerald nodded, his lips twitching into a very brief smile before fading back into a droll blandness that seemed almost mocking.  “It’s about Mai, my sister.”

Lord Fitzgerald lifted a single eyebrow and waited.  “She...she has a crush on you,” Mariko said, stumbling over the words.  She sounded absurd, she knew, and yet she couldn't think of anything better to say.  “Please don’t act on it.  I...”

She broke off.  “Speak freely,” Lord Fitzgerald said, dryly.  “I have learned the hard way to listen to truth when I hear it.”

Mariko flushed, remembering his story about brief military service.  Maybe there had been some truth in it after all.  “My sister is young,” she said.  “She doesn't know the universe as well as I do.”

“Why, you sage old thing,” Lord Fitzgerald said.  It took Mariko a moment to realise that she was being teased.    “I hope that you have learned a few things from winding up in jail on one of the most corrupt planets in the sector?”

“Yes, Milord,” Mariko said, feeling her flush deepen.  “Look, it’s like this.  I don’t want you to sleep with my sister.”

Lord Fitzgerald looked mystified.  “Surely that’s up to her,” he said, after a moment.  He sounded as if he didn't quite understand what she was saying.  “And me, of course.”

Mariko took a breath.  “You’re a young man with a young man’s desires,” she said, although in truth she wasn’t sure how old Lord Fitzgerald actually was.  The records she’d pulled from the starship’s database hadn't been very clear, probably because the aristocracy preferred to keep biographical details to a bare minimum.  Lord Fitzgerald could have been much older than her, using rejuvenation therapy to remain young and physically fit.  “You have to be attracted to her.”

“Perhaps,” Lord Fitzgerald said, vaguely.  He looked at her sharply, his eyes suddenly narrowing.  “Speak freely.  What are you trying to say?”

“I will do anything with you,” Mariko said, feeling sweat trickling down her back.  Every other boy she’d dated, and allowed into her bed, had been on the same level as herself.  Lord Fitzgerald, on the other hand, was very much her social superior.  “Whatever you want, no matter how disgusting, I will do it.  Just please don’t take Mai into your bed.”

Lord Fitzgerald grinned, looking oddly boyish in the light.  “And what if I take her on the bridge instead?”

“Anywhere,” Mariko said, trying to cover her embarrassment with anger.  “You can have me, willingly, anywhere you want, as long as you don’t touch her.”

There was a long pause as Lord Fitzgerald studied her.  “I do not intend to touch your sister,” he said, finally.  Mariko had the odd impression that he was telling the truth.  “She works for me, as do you.  And I learned the hard way not to touch anyone who works for me.”

Mariko looked at him, wondering what had happened in the past.  A maid, perhaps hired for her youth and beauty, pulled into her employer’s bed?  Or perhaps one of his tutors?  There was no way to know, but some of the nonsense her mother had devoured about the aristocracy suggested all kinds of perversions.  Perhaps Lord Fitzgerald liked boys instead of girls.  Homosexuality wasn't forbidden in the Imperium, as a general rule, yet homosexuals tended not to produce children.  Lord Fitzgerald might have been exiled because he refused to take a wife and produce children with her, even through artificial insemination.  The aristocracy granted its children huge freedoms, but it expected them to live up to their obligations as well.

“You can touch me,” Mariko said, knowing that she sounded desperate.  “Just don’t touch her.”

“I won’t touch her,” Lord Fitzgerald said.  He grinned, suddenly.  “I think that you’ve been under too much stress lately.  Go lie down – take a relaxant if you still can't sleep.  You’ll want your wits about you tomorrow.”

He hesitated, and then smiled again.  “And call me Fitz,” he added.  “This ship is too small for you to keep calling me Milord.”

“Yes, my...Fitz,” Mariko said.  She was still flushing from a mixture of embarrassment and relief.  “I’m sorry for troubling you.”

“It’s no trouble,” Lord Fitzgerald...Fitz...assured her.  “But do get some sleep.  You’ll feel much better in the morning.”

He stood up, helped her to her feet and winked at her.  On impulse, Mariko gave him a hug, curious to know how he would respond.  He seemed surprised and then embraced her, almost like a brother would embrace a sister.  And then he helped her to the door and waved goodbye.  Shaking her head, Mariko walked back to her cabin and shut the door behind her.  A moment later, she was in bed and trying to sleep again.

***

“Hunting is one of the great sports,” Fitz said, the following morning.  They’d shared breakfast in the dining room, checked out the ship’s systems, and then gathered in the small holochamber.  “Some of the beasts are incredibly dangerous and have been known to kill hunters who think that they’re smarter than the dumb animal.  I’ve lost a couple of friends to animals they held in absolute contempt.”

He shook his head as he opened the ship’s weapon’s locker.  Mariko felt her eyes open wide with surprise as she took in the collection of hunting rifles, assault rifles, handheld pistols and other weapons, including a handful she didn't recognise.  The Imperium had strict laws on transporting weapons from world to world, although Fitz would probably be considered immune from prosecution.  Besides, the laws simply didn't work very well.  Along the Rim, having a gun in the house could make the difference between a settler surviving an alien attack or dying on a world thousands of light years from Homeworld.  There were more illegal weapons drifting around the Rim than there were planets in the galaxy.

“This is a basic hunting rifle,” he said, plucking one of the weapons off the rack and cocking it with easy skill.  “It is designed to kill a charging animal before it can trample you into the dirt, assuming that you can get a shot off in time.  I’ve hidden in trees and sniped wild animals from a distance, or gone on walking tours where we shot at everything that moved.  Have you ever used a rifle before?”

Mariko hesitated, and then nodded.  Spacers were expected to know the basics, even if they didn't all carry weapons.  Pirates were no respecters of merchant shipping and being able to fight back might have made the difference between survival and death.  The hunting rifle looked more dangerous than the rifles she’d fired to prove she’d mastered the skills, but the basic principles seemed the same.  Fitz passed it to her and she clicked the safety off, then on again, her tutor’s words echoing through her head.  Never take anything for granted when a weapon is involved.

“This is a single-shot weapon,” Fitz observed.  “Multiple-shot weapons are considered cheating, even when you’re being chased by a Raptor with bad intentions.  The bullets are designed to inflict as much damage as possible on their target in the hopes that trauma will help stun the beast even if it isn't killed outright.  If you take off the butt and replace it with this” – he passed her a heavy clip – “you can use it in the simulator, simulating bullets.”

He keyed a command into a console and activated the holochamber.  They were suddenly standing in the middle of a desert, looking around them nervously.  Two moons were rising in the far distance, even through the sun was blazing down from high overhead.  Mariko had seen worlds with multiple moons before – they were very common – but this was something different.  The world itself had been shaped to be exotic.

A shape flickered at the corner of her eyes and then vanished.  She turned, staring into the distance, but saw nothing apart from the haze.  And then something moved again, racing towards them with blinding speed.  It was moving so fast that she could barely get an impression of more than its size, just before it leapt up and lunged at her.  Sharp teeth glimmered in front of her just before the illusion passed right through her.

“If that had been a real Roadrunner, you’d be dead,” Fitz observed.  He sounded oddly amused by her fake death.  “They move with terrifying speed; I saw one once run down a man wearing powered combat armour.  Maybe not quite as dangerous as the Mimic, or the Evolved Saurian, but quite dangerous enough.”

Mai caught her breath.  “You mean that Mimics are real?”  She asked.  “I always thought that they were a myth...”

“They’re real enough,” Fitz assured her.  “But we won’t be hunting them.  Far too dangerous for anyone to try to hunt a Mimic in its own territory.  Even the Imperial Zoo on Homeworld refuses to keep samples of the creatures.”

He shrugged and tapped the console again.  The desert vanished, to be replaced by a jungle.  Mariko could hear a constant chattering in the background as the heat struck her, a sound that sent shivers running down her spine.  The noise seemed to blend together into the sound of a generator, perhaps something she might use to power up a crashed system in emergencies.  She couldn't think of what it could be.

“Insects,” Fitz said, when she asked.  “All of them making noises constantly until it becomes one sound.  The sound of the jungle...when it stops, you know you’re in trouble.  And with that in mind, I suggest you look for the Chameleon.”

Mariko looked around.  The jungle seemed an impassable mass of trees and creepers hanging down from high overhead.  She couldn’t see how anyone could beat a path through it, at least not without powered equipment and a certain lack of concern for the environment.  It was alive with activity, with thousands upon thousands of insects skimming into view and vanishing again in the trees.  One tree seemed to be completely infested with thousands of ant-like creatures who marched in and out of it as if it was theirs and theirs alone.

Something went crashing through the trees in the distance and she raised the rifle, peering into the gloom.  Something was moving there...or was it just her imagination?  It struck her suddenly that they were standing still, making themselves targets for anything that decided to hunt them instead of being hunted, but what could they do about it?  The tiny clearing seemed to be an inescapable prison.  She pointed the rifle towards the half-seen shape in the gloom and then hesitated.  It seemed to have gone while she was looking for it...

“A Chameleon can blend in with its surroundings,” Fitz said.  He didn't seem bothered, but then he knew that it was all illusion.  So did Mariko, but it still felt alarmingly real.  Holochamber systems were rare outside the Core Worlds, even in pilot training centres.  “You have to keep watching for signs of movement.”

Mai looked up at him, still alarmingly worshipful.  “How many of them have you killed?”

“Nine,” Fitz said.  He sounded pleased with himself.  “And three almost killed me.”

Something moved...and Mariko snapped off a shot at it.  The bullet snapped through the branches and vanished into the distance.  There was a flurry of motion as birds and insects scattered, hoping to escape the predatory humans, but no sign that she’d hit the Chameleon.  She tried to listen, hoping to hear its footsteps, yet the sound of the living jungle drowned out its tread.  And then she saw a faint shimmer right at the edge of the clearing and fired at it.  Something the size of a large cat hit the ground and slowly shimmered into existence.

“Its natural camouflage is very good,” Fitz said.  “When it dies, it slowly reverts to its normal appearance.  You need to watch the bastards at all times.”

He grinned at them.  “Do you think that you could learn to enjoy hunting?”

“I don’t know,” Mariko admitted.  “It seems terribly unsporting, somehow.”

Fitz laughed.  “Ah, but that’s where Tuff comes in,” he said.  “The animals on the planet have an excellent chance of killing you, too.”

Chapter Six

“Approaching Tuff Phase Limit,” Mariko said.  “Prepare to drop to sublight.”

“Preparing to drop to sublight, aye,” Mai said, from her console.  Neither of them could avoid a little tension, even though Bruce Wayne’s drives had performed perfectly, better than either of them had expected.  But leaving a pocket dimension, even at the projected endpoint, was always riskier than entering one.  “Drive ready to disengage.”

“Disengage in ten,” Mariko ordered.  She counted down the seconds to zero.  “Now!”

The unearthly darkness of phase space seemed to come alive with light as they plunged back into the normal universe, heading directly for the planet ahead.  Tuff was surrounded by starships, mostly space yachts like Bruce Wayne or interstellar passenger liners from a dozen different worlds.  The Imperial Navy had installed a handful of planetary defence stations in orbit and backed them up with a small squadron of destroyers.  It seemed an excessive amount of protection until Mariko realised that Fitz was hardly the only wealthy nobleman to come to Tuff on safari.  They’d want some heavy protection if they were going to be slumming it along the Rim.

“OTC is hailing us,” Mai said.  “They want to know who we are and what we’re doing here.”

“Shoot them our IFF and request an orbital slot,” Mariko said.  Each planet had its own set of regulations about what they could and could not do in orbit.  Some of them even tried to ban non-local shuttles from operating in their airspace, citing safety concerns.  Mariko privately suspected that it had more to do with a determination to take every last credit from the visitors that they could.  “And then download the local traffic regulations for us to study.”

“I shouldn't worry about them,” Fitz said, from the hatch.  He’d changed into a safari outfit, complete with hat and gun slung over his shoulder.  “They generally allow everyone to use their shuttles as long as they keep OTC updated.”

“We should check it anyway,” Mariko said.  Fitz could go through life ignoring rules, but little mortals such as herself needed to obey the law.  A black mark on her pilot’s licence would make it harder for her to get a job in future.  “They might have changed the rules since you were last here.”

“Picking up a signal,” Mai said.  “It’s addressed to Lord Fitzgerald.”

“Put it through,” Fitz ordered.  An image of a large woman, wearing so many jewels that Mariko couldn't understand how she could walk upright, appeared in front of them.  “Lady Mary.  Such a pleasure to see you again.”

Lady Mary smiled with what seemed to be genuine warmth.  “Fitz,” she said.  “It has been such a long time since you honoured my planet with your presence.  My gamekeepers have already started driving the animals towards the hunting grounds for your entertainment.”

“That’s good to hear,” Fitz said, “but I also hoped to do some hunting as well as shooting.”

Lady Mary laughed, a spine-chilling sound.  “You always were a funny one,” she said.  “I’m afraid that some areas have been marked as unsafe, but the rest of the planet is open to you – for a small consideration, naturally.”

“Naturally,” Fitz echoed.  “We’ll be down on the planet soon enough.  I look forward to meeting you again.”

Lady Mary’s image vanished from the display.  “She was sent out here as punishment for some misdeed,” Fitz said, answering the question before Mariko had a chance to ask.  “I don’t know the details – I don’t know anyone who does.  But she’s turned Tuff into a roaring success.  All of the hunting set come here for the season and go away chattering about her hospitality.”

Mariko frowned.  They’d spent four days practicing hunting and shooting in the holochamber and she’d decided that she didn't like it very much.  She’d died so many times in the simulator that she rather suspected that she wouldn't last a day on the planet, where the local animals were tough and fond of eating humans.  The statistics suggested that there were at least four deaths every season, all through some hunter underestimating the animal that he was hunting.  And yet the hunting fraternity continued to flock to Tuff.

Harvard Tuff was one of the few names that almost everyone in the Imperium knew.  He’d been a planetary engineer during the days of Emperor Montgomery, who had founded the modern Imperium five thousand years ago.  Tuff had turned thousands of lifeless worlds into living space for humans, but his real dream had been to create something unique.  Eventually, he’d found Tuff and started to reengineer the planet’s biosphere.  It was now a rapidly shifting jungle that seemed to have taken on a life of its own.

He’d also created new species to inhabit his masterwork.  Some of them had been drawn from Homeworld and remained largely familiar, others had been radically modified or simply created from various different animal species' DNA spliced together in a test tube and force-grown in a cloning vat.  He’d crossed the line when he’d started splicing in human DNA to give the new creatures a form of intelligence, enough to convince a reluctant Emperor to order his arrest and incarceration.  By then, it had been too late.  Planet Tuff had become a nightmare of competing animals struggling for dominance.  Naturally, the aristocracy had turned it into a safari park for themselves.  The thrill of hunting near-intelligent creatures simply couldn't be beaten.

“We’re taking up standard orbit now,” Mariko said, pulling her attention back to the console.  “Do you want to take one of our shuttles?”

“We might as well,” Fitz said.  He seemed oddly unconcerned by the whole affair, even though he’d been the one rhapsodizing about the wonders of hunting trips.  “Make sure you download a weather report and a safe zones map from OTC.  There are some places on this planet we really don’t want to crash.”

Mariko nodded.  “I’ll see to it,” she said.  “We’ll pack the shuttle first.”

“Bring something you can wear to a formal ball,” Fitz said.  “There’s always one held on the first night.  It’s very tedious for those of us who like to escape High Society, but it is the only way for Mary to catch up on news from home.”

He shrugged and headed towards the hatch.  “I’ll pack my own bag,” he added.  “Just make sure that you stow all of the hunting rifles onto the shuttle.  And plenty of ammunition.”

***

Tuff hadn't contented himself with fiddling with the planet’s plant and animal life, Mariko realised an hour later.  He’d also messed around with the planet’s weather – and done so in a way that was almost impossible to fix, even several thousand years later.  The weather could change with alarming speed, moving from brilliant sunshine to rainstorms and even snow crashing out of the sky.  Strong winds blew up out of nowhere and threatened to slam the shuttle into the mountains or down into the ground.  There were even a handful of volcanoes belching smoke as the shuttle flew overhead, preparing for another eruption.  Tuff had to have been out of his mind...

...Unless, of course, he’d actually intended to create an unstable world.  There were theorists who believed that an unstable world had been the key to humanity’s development and expansion into space.  Mariko had no idea if that was actually true, if only because there was very little information on what had happened to humanity before the Imperium, but it certainly sounded plausible.  Tuff might have hoped that one of his creations would eventually grow into true intelligence, breaking the laws on uplifting unintelligent life forms or creating new forms of intelligent life.

Or maybe he’d just been completely insane.

The jungle below seemed impassable, until they finally sighted Lady Mary’s lodge and the spaceport beside it.  It was a massive complex, walled and heavily guarded, almost as if they expected someone to try to break into the complex at any time.  Mariko checked the beacon from the spaceport, overrode the automatic systems that tried to take control of the descent and handled the landing herself.  The sudden and violent changes in the local environment were just too unpredictable to trust an automated system to handle.

Not all of the buildings were behind the walls, she noted as they came in to land.  A number of small houses were outside the walls, guarded by their own handpicked guards and presumably invisible force fields to keep out unwanted guests.  The documents she'd downloaded from OTC suggested that the worst nightmare on the planet was the insects, including some that seemed to be little more than flying piranhas.  They had been advised to wear repelling bracelets at all times, even if they were genetically modified to be unattractive to hunting insects.  Some of the insects on Tuff were supposed to be worse than the flying nightmares on Beowulf.

The shuttle touched down neatly on the hard surface.  Immediately, a team of workers came forward to unload the bags.  Fitz met them at the hatch, handed out a generous tip and ordered them to carry the bags to one of the outside cabins.  The workers set off at once, while Fitz checked a pair of handheld pistols and passed them to the girls.  Mariko blinked in surprise at how casually he was arming them, before spotting the sign at the edge of the tiny spaceport.  WARNING!  DANGEROUS CRITTERS!  REMAIN ARMED AT ALL TIMES.

Mai looked over at Fitz and frowned.  “Do the animals sometimes get inside?”

“They’ve been known to,” Fitz said. “Better to have the gun and not need than to not have it and need it.”

They scrambled out of the shuttle and closed the hatch behind them.  Fitz had given them both the combination to unlock the shuttle if necessary, after paying what seemed an exorbitant price to keep the shuttle on the ground.  Apparently, most of the passenger liners left their shuttles in orbit and waited for a call before returning to pick up the tourists.

The heat struck them as soon as they emerged from under the force field protecting the spaceport.  Tuff was hot, hotter than any other world she’d experienced, hot enough to leave sweat trickling down her back.  The workers, who seemed to be better paid than typical Indents, wore shorts and shirts.  Some of the women didn't even seem to wear bras, leaving their shirts clinging to their bodies.  It might have been deliberate, Mariko realised; they could attract a sugar daddy and take as much of his money as they could.  Fitz didn’t seem to be impressed, but she was starting to see that he wasn't often impressed by anything.  There were depths to him that were very well hidden.

They passed through a security check and into the main complex, looking down at a swimming pool crammed with visitors.  Some of them were swimming naked, showing off their bodies to all and sundry; others were merely tanning themselves on the edge of the pool.  One of the girls, Mariko saw, was actually an aristocrat, with features that were easy enough to identify.  The Apteryx Clan was famous for their noses, which they had engineered into their family’s dominant genes.  Perhaps she was relaxing while her father hunted wild game.

A number of younger children were clustered around an arcade, supervised by older children who were clearly resentful, even if they were being paid for it.  Some of their toys made Mariko flush with envy; she’d never seen anyone fly in a tiny aeroplane until she’d come to Tuff.  She would have loved such a toy as a child, but she didn't know if they were on sale anywhere – and if they were, they would be hideously expensive.  A handful of children even had bio-engineered gills, allowing them to swim underwater indefinitely, something that she’d only seen before with people engineered to live on water worlds.  Body-altering wasn't something to be used lightly, and yet these people did...

“The very rich,” she muttered, “are different.”

“Yes,” Fitz agreed.  Mariko hadn't even realised that he could hear her.  “They have more money.”

The centre of the complex was a towering mansion, built in a style that matched the holiday homes on Homeworld.  Fitz led them inside, nodding politely to a handful of people he knew, and walked into a room that seemed to be a combination between an office and a social chamber.  Lady Mary – bigger in real life than she had been on the ship’s display – rose up to greet them, holding out her arms for a hug.  Fitz hugged her politely before removing his hat and gracing the other visitors with a low bow.

Mariko remembered her manners and curtseyed hastily.  God knew how the aristocrats would react to any hint of disrespect.  Mai followed her a moment later.

“Welcome to my home once again,” Lady Mary cooed.  “You must tell me everything about your travels.”  She waved a hand imperiously, and half of her audience stood up and left the room.  “The last I heard, you were going to Sumter,” she added, with a gentle reproof.  “Did you find it so interesting that you could not send me a postcard?”

“Sumter has only one thing of great interest, and I don't think they sell postcards of it,” Fitz said, which provoked a series of high-pitched giggles from Lady Mary’s cronies.  “But I did visit Tyler’s Folly, Henderson’s World and Dorado.  Tyler’s Folly is well worth a visit, even if the sky might come crashing down on their heads one day.”

“And who are your friends?”  Lady Mary asked, changing the subject with astonishing speed.  “What happened to Doug?  I liked Doug.”

“Doug retired five years ago,” Fitz said, patiently.  He nodded to Mariko and Mai.  “These are my new retainers.  I picked them up on Dorado and saved them from a little trouble.”

“Always out to save people, eh?”  Lady Mary said, with another giggle.

Mariko wasn't sure what to make of her.  She seemed stupid, yet there was something about her that suggested that she was brighter than she seemed.  But then, if she’d been exiled from Homeworld, she had to have done something truly awful.  The aristocracy forgave everything, up to and including incest.

But the Lady had gone on: “I trust that they are...suitable retainers?”

“Very suitable,” Fitz assured her.  “Now, I understand that you gave me the same cabin...?”

“That I did,” Lady Mary said.  “And I also arranged for you to have an invite to the Welcome Ball.  The Gossamer Twins are here and I believe that they are still in need of someone to escort them to the ball.”

“They don’t have a single brain cell between them,” he protested, looking quite put out.  “Look, Auntie, I honestly don’t want someone else choosing my dates.”

Lady Mary cackled.

“And vetting your shags?”  she asked, with a crudeness that shocked Mariko.  “But you should know better by now.  It is your duty to start producing the next generation of your family.  Even if you are the reincarnation of the Duke of Doncaster, you still need to produce children.  Close your eyes and think of your father.”

Her cronies laughed again.

“I will certainly take your advice into consideration,” Fitz said, tightly.  “When do you intend to start the safaris properly?”

“In two days,” Lady Mary said.  “I had a message from Lord Luther on the last courier boat – he’s been delayed at Sumter and won’t be here for another day.  I’m leaving him an additional day to be sure.”

“He probably wanted to miss the party,” Fitz said, mildly.  “Quite understandable, isn't it?”

Lady Mary snorted.

“You always were a funny one, Fitz,” she cackled.  “Now go and see to your rooms, and then prepare for the dance.  Even if you won’t escort the twins, there are plenty of other women out there who would be interested in getting to know you a little better.  You’re quite the man of mystery.”

She stood up and winked at Mariko.  “And you make sure that he goes to the ball,” she added.  It was unmistakably an order.  “I want everyone to enjoy their first night on the planet.”

“Yes, Milady,” Mariko said, quickly.

“Now go,” Lady Mary ordered.  “I’ll see you all tonight.”

***

“I'm sorry about Lady Mary,” Fitz said, when they settled into the cabin.  Outside the walls, the heat was stronger and seemed to pervade the entire room.  The air conditioning was fighting a losing battle to keep the room liveable.  “She’s always trying to influence us all from a distance.”

Mariko nodded in understanding.  “Who was the Duke of Doncaster?”

“Planetary governor from two hundred years ago,” Fitz said, as he started to unpack.  “He was famous for being a predatory homosexual – he had a string of lovers as long as my ship.  Not actually a bad administrator until he tried to seduce the Crown Prince, who didn't approve and made his attitude clear to the Grand Senate.  Doncaster was sent into exile and someone else took over his position.”

Mai looked up at him, her bright eyes wide and innocent.  “Do you like men?”

“I don’t really have time for romance,” Fitz said.  There was something...awkward in his tone, something that suggested that he didn't want to talk about it any further.  “And besides, five minutes spent in the company of the twins is enough to turn anyone into a raving madman.  The thought of having children with them...”

Mariko snickered.  “Would they allow you to marry them both?”

“Right now, they just want heirs,” Fitz said, rolling his eyes.  “Far too many of us are suffering the effects of too much inbreeding.  We need new blood.”

He shook his head.  “Wear your dresses tonight, but keep your guns where you can get to them easily,” he added.  “There are dangerous creatures out there – and some of them walk on two legs.  They even look human.”

Chapter Seven

“I feel strange in this outfit,” Mariko muttered.  The heat seemed to have grown even stronger as the sun went down, leaving Lady Mary’s complex the only source of light on the planet’s surface.  Sweat made her entire body sheen under the light.  “Why do we have to dress up for this again?”

Fitz looked at her, just long enough to make her blush.  “Because we are expected to look our best,” he said, with some irritation.  It didn't seem to be directed at her, but at Lady Mary.  “You look good enough for me, for what it’s worth.”

Mariko flushed.  She’d picked a simple blue and white dress that clung to her body without revealing much of her bare flesh.  Mai had worn something similar, but altered it so that it revealed the top of her breasts to any watching eyes.  They’d both woven bands into their hair in order to call attention to their pale faces, although they’d only put on minimal makeup.

Fitz, as far as Mariko could tell, hadn't seemed interested in what they wore.  He wore another black suit and hat, with his cane tucked neatly into his belt.  If he carried a gun, as he had advised them to do, she couldn't see where he was hiding it.

“Thank you,” she said, sourly.  She had been to formal balls before, when her mother had been trying to introduce her to suitable young men, but none of them had had anyone much above her own social level.  Here, she might as well be an insect for all the attention she’d get from the others at the ball.  “What should we do inside?”

“Just chat to anyone interested in chatting to you, and dance,” Fitz told her.  “I would suggest that you don’t let any of them get too close to you.  They might not have your best interests in mind.”

The sound of music grew louder as they approached Lady Mary’s mansion.  Someone had opened up all the rear doors, allowing the music to drift out while the party itself spilled out into the lawn.

Fitz took their arms and led them towards the stairs leading into the ballroom itself, pausing in front of a man wearing an over-decorated uniform and passing him a neat, handwritten card.  The man cleared his throat as he stepped to the top of the stairs and addressed the crowd below.

“The Honourable Lord Fitzgerald d'Anconia Narragansett Grytpype-Thynne, with Mariko and Mai Wakabayashi,” he said.  Mariko felt herself flush and fought hard to control it.  She had never had anyone announce her formally before, certainly not in front of a crowd far more aristocratic than she could ever hope to be.  “Give them great honour, as they deserve.”

A number of male aristocrats raised their glasses in their direction, but apart from that there was nothing.  Fitz didn't seem to be particularly offended, however; he led them down the stairs and onto the dance floor.  Instantly, he was surrounded by a handful of well-wishers, some more sincere than others.  He chatted briefly with them as he allowed a younger aristocrat to take Mai for a dance.  The music kept playing, changing frequently, but never stopping.  Some of the dancers had clearly not been fashionably late.  Mariko felt her breathing grow faster as she lost sight of Mai, even though she trusted that Mai would be reasonably safe in this environment.  Fitz’s reputation would protect her from serious harm.

“Come on out and dance,” Fitz said, finally separating himself from the well-wishers.  A number of more senior aristocrats had already started forming small groups by the tables, taking to one another in low voices.  “There isn't much else to do here.”

Fitz was a good dancer, Mai discovered with some surprise.  He didn't tread on her toes, nor did he try to peek down her dress while she moved.  She didn't know all of the steps, but the dances were simple and she picked them up very quickly.  A couple of young women attempted to cut in and take Fitz from her, but he seemed to prefer to dance with Mariko.  If the young women talked like they giggled, Mariko recognised, he might have had a point.

Eventually, Fitz grew tired and led her over to a small table, where they sat down.  A handful of aristocrats, whose names and faces were unknown to her, came over to chat briefly with Fitz, but none of their conversations seemed to make any sense.  Some of them seemed to want Fitz to support them in political deals; others just seemed inclined to have a friendly chat.  But the way they talked suggested that there were hidden knives in the dark just waiting for them.

“Fitz, dear boy,” a voice said.  Mariko looked up to see a handsome young man with very old eyes.  “I haven’t seen you in years!”

“This is Lord Kay,” Fitz said.  He hadn't introduced any of the others, suggesting that Lord Kay was more important than he seemed.  “He used to be my mentor when I was a child.”

He looked up at Lord Kay and smiled.  “I came here for the hunting,” he said, openly.  “What did you come here for?”

“Oh, this and that,” Kay said.  He sounded friendly, but his smile never touched his eyes.  “I never saw the point of shooting dumb animals.  It’s much more fun to shoot at people who can shoot back.”

“It’s testing yourself against the animals,” Fitz said, without apparent irritation.  “Can a human, with senses that are so limited compared to a dog’s senses, shoot a wild animal before the animal gets him?  Can brains and equipment make up for an animal’s natural advantages in teeth and claws?  And can you trick an animal into a position for the perfect shot?”

“Seems like an excuse to play at being a great hunter.” Lord Kay snorted.  He waved a hand towards the far wall, which was decorated with a number of animal heads.  Some were alarmingly humanoid.  “The man who designed this planet was mad, and should have been shot as soon as he was captured.”  He nodded at Mariko and left the table.

“He never approved of hunting animals,” Fitz muttered to Mariko.  “But he does like hunting girls.  There are always hundreds of desperate aristocratic girls at these gatherings and he wants to see how many he can lure into his bed.”

Mariko blinked in surprise.  “And the girls let him have them?”

“You would be amazed how accommodating some people become when given a hint that he might take them as his wife,” Fitz said, rather cynically.  “We wouldn't have half so many bastards if people like him didn’t set out to seduce people who want to be seduced.”

He looked up as Mai came over, red in the face.

“He tried to put his hand down my dress,” she protested, angrily.  “What sort of manners do they teach people here?”

“They teach them that they can take whatever they want,” Fitz said, as an angry-looking young man stumbled out of the crowd.  He had a nasty looking bruise on his cheek where Mai had slapped him.  “Ah, Sir Hugh.  What can I do for you?”

Hugh was spitting with rage, much to the amusement of the rest of the crowd.

“You can hand that bitch over to me for a proper whipping,” he snapped.  “Doesn't she know better than to refuse...?”

“She was under strict orders to go no further than dancing,” Fitz said, in a pleasant tone that fooled no one.  “I suggest that you walk away before something...unfortunate happens.”

Sir Hugh glared at him for a long moment, and then stalked off.

“It’s going to be unpleasant for his people tonight,” Fitz remarked, reluctantly.  He held out a hand to Mai.  “Would you like to dance?”

Mariko watched them on the dance floor until another young aristocrat invited her to dance, allowing her to move from partner to partner.  The aristocrats didn't seem interested in anything apart from dancing, which was something of a relief.  But then, they'd know that she wasn't a noblewoman and couldn't really make any deals with them.  By the time she returned to their table, she found herself almost enjoying the party.

Then a hand tapped her on her shoulder.

“Miss Wakabayashi,” a steward said, “my mistresses would like the pleasure of your company at their table.”

He nodded towards a table on the other side of the room.  Two girls, barely older than Mai, sat there.  They were almost identical, with dark faces, long dark hair and wearing the same white dresses that looked almost like wedding gowns.  Their faces seemed pleasant enough, but there was a look in their eyes that Mariko wasn't sure she liked.  Fitz seemed to have some sense of responsibility, even if it wasn't one that she really understood.  These two looked as if they enjoyed playing games purely for the hell of it.

But she didn't seem to have any choice.  “I would be delighted,” she said, rising to her feet.  The twins smiled at her as she walked over to them.  “You wanted to speak with me?”

One of the twins smiled.  “I am Clarissa and that is Marissa,” she said, indicating her sister.

“No, I am Clarissa and that is Marissa,” the other twin said.  Her smile seemed slightly different, although Mariko realised that she could be exaggerating the differences between them.  “You have to keep us straight in your mind.”

Mariko glanced at them.  They were almost completely identical.  “I think I’ll just call you both Jane,” she said, picking the most common name in the Imperium.  “Would that help me to keep you straight?”

The twins burst into identical giggles.

“So funny,” Marissa said.  Or was it Clarissa?  “Tell us about your master?”

“Lord Fitzgerald?”  Mariko asked.  “Why do you want me to tell you about him?”

“Because we’re interested, dummy,” Clarissa said.  Her twin had another fit of the giggles.  “We want to know all about him.”

Mariko understood, suddenly.  The twins must want to marry – or at least seduce – Fitz.  And that bothered her for some reason.  Not because she was jealous, but...why did it bother her?  She looked at the girls, with their perfect faces and bodies, and understood.  They looked perfect, but they were shallow, too shallow for anyone to endure for very long.  Fitz had even said as much, back when he’d been talking to Lady Mary.  They were just too irritating for anyone to enjoy their company.  She wondered, in a fit of sudden amusement, if they giggled in bed?  Or did they share their bed with a single man?

“He’s a good man,” she said, finally.  And she was telling the truth.  A nastier man could have taken advantage of their powerlessness, or of Mai’s crush on him.  “But that’s about all I can tell you.”

“What a shame,” the girls said, in unison.  “And where did you come from?”

Mariko briefly considered telling them the entire story, before dismissing the idea and cursing herself for being an idiot.  She’d known enough girls like them when she'd been a little girl, growing up on Edo.  Stupid, self-obsessed bitches, clinging together and stabbing their friends and enemies in the back.  They simply could not – ever – be trusted.  Any secrets shared with one of them would be public knowledge by the end of the day.  And they would do anything to marry the right person so they didn't have to work to earn a living.

“I’m just a retainer,” she said, finally.  She sighted Fitz heading back to their table with Mai in tow and stood up.  “Thank you for your time.”

Fitz gave her a concerned look when she returned to their table and sat down.  “Are you all right?”

“I think so,” Mariko said.  Mai looked flushed, but happy.  The dancing had been good for her, at least once she’d danced with someone decent.  “How long do you want to stay here?”

“No longer,” Fitz said.  He stood up and headed towards the open windows leading out into the lawn.  “Come on. We’ll go back and get some sleep.  Tomorrow will be a tedious day.”

***

He’d been right, Mariko decided, midway through their second day on the planet.  There was very little to do except swim, play games or brush up on one’s hunting skills while waiting for the final guest to arrive for the safari.  To add to her concerns, Fitz seemed occupied all day, leaving them to explore the complex alone and enjoy themselves.  No one seemed rude enough to tell them to buzz off, but the aristocrats either ignored them or stared until they went away.  Sir Hugh must have been busy spreading his own version of why Mai had slapped him around the complex.

The only interesting part was a long series of lectures – complete with holographic images – about the type of creatures they might encounter in the jungle and precisely how dangerous they were.  Tuff had bent the laws on genetic modification, and had created creatures right at the limit of what was allowed.  Several species could actually cross-breed, producing new and interesting combinations.  Some of them were large and bulky, so large that they might not realise that they had been shot even if a bullet went through their brains.  Others were so fast that they were extremely difficult to see until they were already on their targets, trying to kill them.  And, just as Fitz had warned, some looked like hairy humans, complete with disturbingly human faces.  The speaker commented that it had been the neo-apes that had sealed Tuff’s fate when he’d been hauled in front of the Emperor.  They were just too human to be taken lightly.

The more she heard, the less keen Mariko felt to go out on safari.  Space was dangerous, and often unpredictable, but she was used to it.  The jungle, on the other hand, was a vast unknown; the speaker freely admitted that they hadn't really catalogued all of Tuff’s creations, let alone the cross-breeds produced by several different races blended together.  He’d taken samples from a hundred worlds and dropped them on his creation just to see how they’d survive and adapt to their new environment.  The tiny crab-like creatures with poisonous claws, the social spiders who aggressively attacked each and every creature that entered their territory, the rock snakes from Anderson’s World...they’d all made niches for themselves on Tuff.  It had become a teeming biological maelstrom of life forms, all fighting and mating with each other.

“I’m not sure that I am very keen on this either,” Mai said, when Mariko raised her concerns, “but they wouldn't really let people get hurt, would they?”

“They have,” Mariko pointed out.  Since Tuff had become the greatest safari planet in the galaxy, seventy-four people – including some quite high-ranking aristocrats – had died trying to hunt the various creatures that infested the planet.  There was even a joke that the monsters had become intelligent and were keeping it to themselves to lure new food packets to their planet.  “I think we just have to be careful and avoid the more dangerous expeditions.”

Fitz didn't seem to agree, nor did most of the other young aristocrats.  They’d signed up for safaris that would take them dangerously close to the spider cities or the steaming lava pools that apparently hid some of the planet’s nastier monsters.  He didn't seem to mind that the girls were reluctant to go with them; in fact, Mariko suspected that he viewed it as a positive bonus.  The real hunters would go out, leaving the more timid aristocrats behind, and they’d bring back plenty of carcasses to show off and then eat.  Some of the animals on the planet were dangerously inedible, thanks to Tuff, but the remainder should be safe to eat.  Mariko just hoped the cooks knew the difference.

“Get plenty of sleep,” he advised them, after a brief dinner in the smaller dining room.  He’d managed to beg out of the large dinner being hosted by Lady Mary, much to Mariko’s relief.  “You will really want to be fresh for tomorrow.”

Mariko scowled.  She wasn't sure that she wanted to be fresh for anything.

“Come on,” Mai said, when Mariko expressed her doubts out loud.  She’d been reading about some of the more interesting exploits carried out on Tuff.  “It might just be fun.”

***

Mariko lay in her bed, trying to sleep.  It wasn't easy; the heat was still an omnipresent sensation, a mocking reminder that the planet was unpleasantly hot for baseline humans, despite the air conditioning.  Tuff might have eventually intended to engineer humans specifically for his world; certainly, it had been one of the charges levelled against him at his trial.  She was still tossing and turning when she heard someone walk through the next room and open the door.  Slipping out of bed as quietly as she could, she peered into the darkness and saw Fitz’s dark form slipping into the jungle.  Mariko remembered all the horror stories about what lurked inside the jungle and shivered.  He had to be out of his mind.  Surely no one would be insane enough to go on safari in the middle of the night.

She hesitated, and then picked up her pistol and protective bracelet before hurrying outside and looking around for him.  He was briefly visible against the jungle before he vanished, heading north towards the Lava Pools.  They’d been warned that the Lava Pools were among the most dangerous parts of the planet, utterly unsuited for human exploration without proper equipment and an escort of trained specialised.  And yet Fitz was going on his own!  She couldn’t leave him alone, even if it risked them both being killed by the monsters lurking in the shadows.

After a moment, Mariko started to follow him into the jungle.

Chapter Eight

Five minutes after following Fitz into the jungle, Mariko was already regretting her decision.  The heat kept growing stronger and she could feel the insects buzzing around her, invisible in the darkness.  Even the slight illumination provided by the first of the planet’s moons rising in the distance didn't help her to keep track of Fitz.  He seemed almost invisible, moving from place to place as if he moved only when she wasn’t looking.  There were clearly layers to him that he kept well hidden.

Sweat poured down her body as she heard the sounds of animals moving in the distance.  Most of the dangerous animals, they had been assured at the briefing, slept during the night, but many of the creatures they hunted were nocturnal.  She found herself glancing back, only to realise that she’d completely lost track of the cabin where they’d been staying.  If she turned back, there was no guarantee that she would manage to get back to safety.  In hindsight, walking out in the woods alone might have been her most dangerous mistake since she’d come to the Sumter Sector – and that included fighting Carlos and his goons.

She turned...and cursed as she realised that she had lost track of Fitz.  He seemed to have shimmered into the darkness, to have vanished completely.  She stumbled forward, staring around her, but she saw nothing.  He was gone, and she was lost.  She didn't even have a beacon she could use to find her way back to the cabin.

At least Mai wasn't with her, she told herself as she came to a halt, trying to decide what to do.  She’d be safe back at the complex even if Mariko was eaten by Tuff’s homemade monsters.  Maybe she should just try to walk back, or start screaming for help.  But screaming would probably attract the monsters long before it attracted anyone human.

Something moved at the corner of her eye.  She was still turning when a dark shape slammed into her, knocking her to the ground.  Mariko would have cried out if a hand had not clamped down over her mouth, almost choking her.  She tried to struggle, but her assailant knew how to hold someone down and render struggling impossible.  Resistance was futile.  Strong arms rolled her over and she found herself staring up at a very familiar face.

“Mariko,” Fitz said, in surprise.  He didn't sound like a vain fop or playboy aristocrat, not now.  “What are you doing here?”

Mariko stared up at him in shock.

“I followed you,” she said, finally.  No lie came to her mind that would have seemed even remotely believable.  “I saw you going off into the darkness and thought I’d better go with you.”

Fitz glared down at her.  “You came out into the jungle without any protection?”

Mariko nodded, shamefaced.  She knew the dangers of outer space, but she hadn’t quite taken the dangers of the jungle seriously.  Fitz wore a black outfit that allowed him to blend into the darkness and carried several weapons on his belt.  He probably also had a repulsing field to keep the various animals and insects away from him.  Mariko was already ruefully aware that some of the insects had decided that she tasted good enough to eat, even with the genetic modifications running through her bloodline.  Tuff had probably thought that engineering a taste for human flesh into his creations would make his safari world more interesting to the aristocracy.  He’d been right.

“Silly girl,” Fitz said.  He rolled off her – it was curious how there hadn't been anything intimate about how he’d held her down – and climbed to his feet.  “I ought to send you back to the cabin, but I bet you didn’t even bring a compass.”

“No, Milord,” Mariko admitted.

“And I can't afford to risk leaving you here to wait for me,” Fitz added, as he held out a hand to help her stand upright.  “You’d better come with me. Just don’t interfere or get in the way.”

He turned, without waiting for her to say anything, and led the way further into the jungle.  Mariko hesitated and then followed him, finding it difficult to match his pace.  She hadn't believed that he’d served in the military, still less an elite unit like the Grenadier Guards, but now she found herself wondering if there was some truth to the story after all.  He was carrying more than she was, and wearing an all-encompassing outfit, yet he seemed to slip through the jungle like a ghost.  Maybe he’d been going on safari since he was old enough to carry a gun – the aristocracy would ignore all Imperial laws about gun ownership – or maybe he had some pretty heavy sequencing worked into his genes.  The aristocracy made a big thing about being pureblood humans, but she doubted that there were any pureblood humans around these days.  There were just too many advantages to modifying the genome of one’s children, even on a world that normally shunned advanced technology.

She wanted to ask him a dozen questions, but his forbidding expression kept her lips firmly closed.  Time passed slowly until he finally held up a hand to stop her, just outside what looked like a natural firebreak sliced through the jungle.  Or perhaps it wasn't natural at all.  A closer look revealed that nothing grew in a two-metre gap between the part of the jungle they were in and a second part leading up towards the lava pools.  The sky was taking on an inhumanly red tint from the volcanoes, from where the lava bubbled up to the surface.  Fitz produced a tool she didn't recognise from his belt and waved it around, scanning for something.  A moment later he took her arm and led her firmly across the firebreak.

It struck her at once, an unpleasant sensation vibrating down into her very bones.  She wanted to turn and run, as if what lay beyond the invisible barrier was something she would never want to see.  The fright she’d felt the first time she’d come face-to-face with the utterly inhuman Spiders was nothing compared to the reaction she felt as they crossed the roar.  Sheer terror would have rooted her to the spot if Fitz hadn't been dragging her along; as it was, she almost managed to tear herself free and run back towards the cabin.  An eternity in a jungle filled with savage man-eating animals seemed preferable to facing whatever lay beyond the barrier.

And then the sensation was gone, as if someone had simply clicked off a switch.  Mariko sagged to the ground, breathing heavily, her body aching worse than it had done after they’d been arrested.  The repulsive sensation had vibrated through her entire body and soul.

“Standard zone of emotional repulsion,” Fitz commented.  He didn't seem to have been affected, the bastard.  “Anyone who brushes against the field will be gently repelled, often without realising that they have been repelled.  But if you try to actually walk through the field, the sensation gets stronger and stronger until you turn and run for your life.  You need special training to walk through a field without being seriously affected.”

“Training that you have,” Mariko said, between gasps.  “Milord...who are you?”

“All in good time,” Fitz said.  He leaned closer to her and brushed his lips against her ear.  “From now on, we must be very quiet and careful.  That won’t be the only security measure they set up to keep out unwanted intruders.”

Mariko wanted to ask who they were, but Fitz led the way into the jungle before she could say anything.

Unlike the previous section, there were almost no animal or insect sounds in the darkness.  The repulsion field would probably affect animals as well as humans, she realised, driving them out of the area in a manner they couldn't resist.

But why would anyone want to seal off part of Tuff?  It was an entire planet of crazily engineered plant and animal life.  Outside of the hunting and shooting fraternity, she couldn’t imagine why anyone would want to live on the world.  It was simply too dangerous to support a colony.  There were desert or ice worlds that were more supportive of human life.

Fitz had donned a pair of goggles and was scanning from side to side, looking for signs of a second security measure.  It wouldn't be something visible to unaugmented human eyes, Mariko was certain.  She’d studied starship security systems during her training and while she’d never looked at any devices for use on the ground, the basic principles had to be the same.  The most useful security device was one that was never seen until it was too late.  She found herself glancing around, wondering if the birds or insects had been rigged out with cameras and watching sensors.  Given unlimited time and money, the entire jungle could have been turned into an early warning system.

In the distance, she could hear a very faint sound, almost like people chanting.  Fitz held up a hand and motioned for her to remain where she was, and then slipped off into the darkness, leaving her alone to try to figure out what she heard.  A long moment passed.  She was sure the words were on the edge of comprehension, as if they were something she’d heard before, but any possible meaning was lost after Fitz crawled towards her and motioned her forward.

She moved from tree to tree, and was surprised when she saw a small, dark object affixed to one of the tree trunks.  Fitz winked at her, his face visible as rays of light shone down from the moon overhead, indicating that he had disabled it.

He stopped for a moment and then motioned for her to get down on the ground, following her until they were lying together under a bush.  Mariko suddenly saw a dark shape gliding through the trees ahead of them.  A man, carrying a gun...a watchman.  She felt her heartbeat pounding so loudly that she was astonished that the watchman couldn't hear it as he walked his lonely beat before he faded into the darkness.

Fitz put one hand on her back to keep her on her hands and knees as they slid forward, seemingly unbothered by the prospect of crawling through mud.  Mariko wondered how they would ever explain their muddy clothes to Mai, or who would be charged with washing them after they got back to the cabin.  She was sure, for some reason, that Lady Mary would not approve of Fitz’s night-time excursion.  But what was she hiding on her world?

Fitz moved forward carefully, watching for more sentries as they approached the sound of the chanting.  The patrols didn't seem to be very frequent, but there didn't seem to be any pattern to them either.  It struck her that a routine patrol pattern would be easy for someone to subvert, simply by timing the sentries and slipping through the gaps in their coverage.  Thankfully, Fitz seemed to be good at spotting them.

Mariko suspected that Lady Mary’s guards – if they did belong to Lady Mary – would have orders to detain any intruders and then, perhaps, drop them in the lava pools.  Even aristocrats died on Tuff.  How many of the dead had been killed by wild animals and how many of them had stumbled across something they shouldn’t?

There was a gap in the trees up ahead.  Fitz crawled towards it and peered through, and then beckoned for her to follow him.  Mariko found herself staring down at a cliff she hadn't even realised was there, a cliff leading down to a hollowed-out volcano that had died long ago.  Someone had replaced the volcano’s stone with concrete, turning it into a training area.  And hundreds of humanoids were marching across, drilling in a manner she vaguely recognised as comparable to the Civil Guards she’d seen training as a young girl.  Some of them were human, others were very definitely non-human.  And they were all carrying weapons.

The sight made her blanch.  Everyone knew that the Imperium had imposed unity and discipline on alien races too primitive to understand the need for it, giving the aliens a place within humanity’s framework where they could live in peace.  And if it demanded in return that aliens work for human masters, what did that matter, compared to the prospect of peace?  But some aliens were too primitive to understand the necessity of their situation and rose in revolt against their human overlords.  Because they couldn't be trusted, giving aliens weapons was utterly banned.  There was no way of knowing that they wouldn't end up pointed at humanity.

But the aliens below were not only armed, they were being drilled by humans!

She tried to count the number of human traitors below and found it impossible.  Some of them were clearly enhanced humans from the heavy-world planets, others so pureblood that they might have come directly from Homeworld itself.  And they had given the aliens weapons!  She shuddered as she recognised some of the weapons: HVM launchers, capable of bringing down a starship or a shuttle with a single hit; heavy plasma cannons, used only by the Imperial Marines; even a single close-in defence system, capable of shooting shuttles or orbit-dropping Marines out of the sky.  There were no signs of any starships, but they wouldn't be needed, not until the army went elsewhere.  They were already more than strong enough to overrun the minimal defences on Tuff.

She looked over at Fitz and saw the grim expression on his face.  Another of his gadgets was in his hand, recording the entire scene below.  He looked back at her, his face set, but somehow unsurprised.

He’d suspected as much even before they landed on Tuff, she realised. He hadn't come for the safari, but to check out Lady Mary’s world.

Just who was he? And what did he want?

Somehow, she was sure that he could have flown the Bruce Wayne on his own, without the need for a pair of pilots.  But if his cover was that of a weak and useless aristocrat...

He tapped his lips, reminding her to keep silent, and then crawled back towards the jungle.  Mariko waited until he signalled her, and then followed him, no longer concerned about the mud that covered her body.  After what she’d seen, she no longer knew what to do.  As pilots, they had standing orders to report any hint of alien rebellion to Imperial Intelligence – or to the local Civil Guard – but there was no Civil Guard on Tuff.  And the person in charge of the planet had to be conspiring with the rebels.

But why would Lady Mary risk her position for a bunch of alien scum and human traitors?

For all she knew, Tuff might be an excellent place for the rebels to base themselves.  Who in the Civil Guard would risk his career by investigating a world owned outright by the aristocracy?  No one would want the enmity of Lady Mary’s family, even if they did manage to secure proof that Lady Mary had been working with the rebels.

“All right,” a voice said, so close that she almost jumped out of her skin.  “Stop right there!”

A red dot of light danced between her and Fitz, warning them that the guard carried a gun with a laser targeting device.  “Stand up, very slowly,” the guard ordered.  “Keep your hands in the air at all times, where I can see them.”

Mariko obeyed, feeling sweat and mud trickling down her body.  It crossed her mind that she had to look a ghastly sight, and she almost giggled.  Fitz moved beside her, one hand concealing something that she prayed wouldn't be visible to the guard.  There was only one guard, Mariko realised, as they turned around, a guard who didn't seem to have summoned any reinforcements.  He kept his rifle moving swiftly between Fitz and herself, ready to shoot them both down instantly, if necessary.  But surely his superiors would want prisoners...

“Good grief,” Fitz said, suddenly.  “Look at that.”

The guard’s eyes only twitched, but it was just long enough for Fitz to hurl himself at the guard’s legs and send him tumbling to the ground.  He moved so fast that he was almost a blur, suggesting that he had been augmented as well as genetically-modified.  The guard let out a yelp that was hastily suppressed as Fitz pushed something against his head.  He sighed and collapsed to the ground.

“Mental disruptor,” Fitz muttered, as he retrieved the guard’s weapon and placed it on his chest.  “He’ll be out of it for thirty minutes...and when he wakes up, he’ll have short-term memory loss.  It’ll look like he fell asleep while on duty.  His superiors will not be happy.”

Mariko hesitated, and then whispered back, “What if he called in before he intercepted us?”

“Then things get interesting,” Fitz admitted.  He finished positioning the guard and returned the disruptor to his pocket.  “Come on.  We’d better get back to the cabin.”

The return trip was more of a nightmare than the trip to the hidden training camp.  Mariko found herself pushed by the repulse field and Fitz had to pick her up and carry her over the firebreak before her mind stopped panicking and returned to normal.  It didn't seem to have a softer setting on the way back, and was probably intended to keep the alien trainees from deserting if they had second thoughts about taking up arms against their human masters.  After that, Fitz just walked back as if he had a GPS in his head, which he probably did.  If he’d been augmented, finding his way around the planet wouldn't be a problem for him.

“So,” she said, when they reached the cabin.  “What now?”

“Now?”  Fitz asked.  “We shower.  And then we sleep.”

He made a show of checking his watch.  “We only have a few hours before we’re expected to go on safari, remember?”

Chapter Nine

Mai was still asleep, Mariko realised with some relief.  Explaining why she looked muddy, why they both looked muddy, would have been beyond her.  The exhaustion hadn't hit her until they’d stumbled into the cabin, barely bothering to glance around to check if anyone was watching for their return.  She left a set of muddy tracks on the floor as she headed towards the bedroom, before Fitz put a hand on her arm.

“You don’t want to shower in there,” he said, seriously.

Mariko realised that he was right.  Leaving the shower muddy would have tipped her sister off that something was wrong – although she would have to tell Mai sooner rather than later.  She’d already gotten Mai into deep trouble once by accident and she didn't want to do it again.

“Come and share mine” Fitz added.  “I have a maidbot to clear up the mess.”

A day ago, she would have taken that for an invitation to share more than just a shower, but now she realised that Fitz was far more complex than he appeared.  She followed him into his suite and realised, not entirely to her surprise, that he had a far larger washroom than his retainers.  The shower looked large enough to hold ten oversized men comfortably and there was a bathtub that could have held four people, provided they didn't mind being intimate.  Fitz turned on the shower and warm water cascaded down from high overhead as Mariko struggled to take off her overalls.  She was too tired to worry about modesty right now.  Fitz didn't even seem to be interested in sneaking a peek.

“Just ditch them in the disposal bin,” Fitz advised, as she finally managed to pull off her sodden trousers.  “There’s no point in trying to wash them here and if we hand them over to the laundry staff they’ll know what we were doing.  We can get you another pair later.”

“Thank you,” Mariko said, thickly.  She hadn’t even considered the possibility that their clothes might betray them.  But then, it had only been three hours since she’d set out to follow Fitz.  It felt like years.  “What about your...outfit?”

“It can be washed in the shower and then returned to the ship,” Fitz said.  He stepped past her, still dressed, and into the curtain of water.  Mud ran off his outfit as he slowly undressed, spiralling down towards the plughole.

Mariko wondered suddenly if the mud in the water would also betray them, before realising that the whole complex ran largely on automated systems.  They wouldn't notice anything unexpected in the water as they purified it and returned it to the storage tanks.

“Come on in,” he told her. “The water’s lovely.”

It felt almost too hot for Mariko, but she followed him in anyway, picking up a soapy brush and using it to scrub her body.

Fitz kept his back to her, leaving her feeling faintly ashamed for looking at him, but he was worth looking at.  She hadn't seen him lift anything heavier than a martini glass, yet the muscles under his skin were as hard as steel and there were a handful of faint scars that suggested that he’d led a more active life than his public persona would admit.  There were even faint traces suggesting that he had been augmented, perhaps as much as an Imperial Marine or a Bloody Blade.  Direct augmentation was rare outside the military, even for the aristocracy.  It hadn't been that long since the Cyborgs of Calculus had made their own bid for power, once they’d created a hive mind from thousands of unwilling human subjects.  The old taboos still remained.

After everything they’d gone though, she suddenly found it easy to feel desire again, to want to take him in her arms and see where it would lead.  He was attractive – and he was clearly far more than just a playboy.  But she pushed the impulse aside, ruthlessly.  She didn’t know what was going on with Fitz, or on Tuff itself.  Who knew who had really raised the army in the jungle?

“You shouldn't have followed me,” Fitz said.  He was holding a small device in his hand, one that she vaguely recognised as a counter-bugging system.  “I told you that it was dangerous out there.”

“Yes, Milord,” Mariko said, repentantly.  He was right, after all.  But without her, would he have made it back alive?  He probably would have.  His story about being in the Guards had to be literal truth, even if it was incomplete.  He would probably have managed to avoid attracting attention altogether if he hadn’t had to worry about her.  “What was that army doing there?”

“I wish I knew,” Fitz admitted.  He looked at her for a long moment, the light playfulness gone from his eyes.  The stranger looking at her was far more dangerous than anyone she’d met in her entire life, even Carlos.  “I picked up a rumour on Diaphone and followed it to Dorado, but my attempt to track it down cost my ally his life.  Don’s life wasn't worth what few clues I managed to salvage.  I couldn't even recover his body for a proper burial back home.”

“Your former pilot,” Mariko guessed.  Fitz nodded.  “That’s why you needed us, isn’t it?  You needed to maintain a cover of aristocratic uselessness.”

Fitz chuckled.  “Something like that,” he agreed, with another glance at his counter-bugging device.  “If I’d actually been identified as Don’s partner, I would have had to haul ass out of there and sneaked back in through another starship, probably with a much better disguise.  But instead I got to maintain my cover...”

“Unless they did penetrate it and just wanted to see what you would do,” Mariko said, slowly.  She had read enough spy novels to know how the business worked.  “They might have been looking for your contacts...”

“Nothing is ever certain in this business,” Fitz agreed, sardonically.  “Yes, they might have identified me.  But the alternative is pulling out and hoping that someone else will be able to figure out what’s going on here before it explodes in our face.”

He shook his head.  “Two more minutes before the bugs in this compartment penetrate my cover,” he said.  “Luckily, they’ll assume that we were sharing some pleasure instead of talking about anything else.”  He turned and winked at her.  “Don’t say anything else out loud until we’re back on the ship.  You never know who might be listening.”

Mariko was shocked.  “Lady Mary bugs her own guests?”

“It’s the simplest way to get inside information she can use,” Fitz said.  “Just because she’s thousands of light years from Homeworld doesn't mean that she’s not interested.  And everyone knows it, of course.  Sorting out the truth from the deliberate falsehoods will take her weeks, if not months.  Luckily, everyone knows that Lord Fitz is pretty much useless...”

He patted her shoulder, a curiously intimate gesture.  “I’ll tell you everything once we’re back on the ship,” he promised.  “Until then, keep your mouth shut, even when you think you are alone.  Understand?”

“Yes, Milord,” Mariko said.  She stepped out of the shower and started to dry herself with a towel.  “I won’t say anything, even to Mai.”

***

“Wake up,” Mai said.

It felt like seconds after Mariko’s head had hit the pillow and she’d closed her eyes.  Her dreams had tormented her, constantly reminding her of how much could have gone wrong when she’d followed Fitz, or what could still go wrong in the future.  They might be in worse danger than they’d been when Carlos had arranged for them to be enslaved and indentured.

“Come on, lazy bones,” Mai demanded. “Wake up!”

Mariko pulled herself out of bed, biting down the reaction that came to mind.  Mai had had nine hours to sleep; Mariko had barely had four before it was time to wake up.  Sunlight was streaming in through the window, bright enough to dispel everything that had happened last night as a dream...except that her overalls were missing and her body ached everywhere.  She staggered into the shower, washed herself thoroughly, and then dressed in the safari outfits provided by Lady Mary’s people.  A tight shirt, so tight that it displayed the outlines of her breasts for all to see; a pair of shorts and a single metal hat.  None of the outfit suggested that it would provide much protection against wild animals, let alone humans with guns and bad intentions, but perhaps that was the point.  Tuff’s dangerous reputation only added to the thrill the aristocracy felt at hunting in the planet-wide jungle.

She’d felt absurdly self-conscious in the tight shirt until she realised that it was actually one of the more modest outfits in the complex.  The twins, who had been making eyes at Fitz as if they expected him to drop everything and jump into bed with them, wore outfits that only covered their nipples and the little patch of hair between their thighs.  They made thongs seem modest...and they weren't even the most exposed!  A handful of girls who were clearly servitors, rather than aristocrats, wore skirts made out of leaves and left their bare breasts visible for all to see.  Mariko couldn't decide if they were dressed that way to add primitiveness to the entire scene, or if someone had ordered them to lure as many of the older aristocrats into bed as possible.  Who knew what some indiscreet pillow talk could tell Lady Mary?

“Come along,” Fitz said.  He too was wearing a safari outfit, although she noticed that his managed to cover up the little hints of augmentation that would be visible to a skilled eye.  “We’d better get some breakfast before it all goes down Lord Randolph.  He just comes here for the food.”

Mariko smelled the food on the mansion lawn before she actually saw it.  Great carcasses, some from animals she didn't recognise, were being roasted over vast fires powered by locally-gathered firewood.  A hundred tables had been set out for the eaters, although most of the aristocrats seemed to prefer to walk around carrying their plates so they could talk to friends and cut enemies dead.  One man, wearing black robes and a grey hat, was merely sitting at the end table, scowling around him with an expression of fixed doom and gloom.  Mariko couldn't understand what he was doing there, or why he was scowling.  Did he think that the revelry was going too far?

“He’s a denier,” Fitz said, as they queued for great steaming hunks of meat.  “His family has been pushing for reform for the last seven hundred years.  They might have made headway if they hadn't been so keen on granting aliens more rights than they generally get under the Imperium’s Constitution.  Instead, they get cut out of every social occasion worth mentioning.  If they weren't so rich and powerful, someone would probably have accused them of treason by now.”

Mariko looked over at the Denier and then back at Fitz.  “So why is he here?”

“Maybe it’s a way to remind people that his family still has power,” Fitz said.  “Or maybe he’s here to strike a private deal with Lady Mary.  Anything is possible here.”

Mariko said nothing, but she thought hard.  Whoever had built the army in the jungle clearly didn't care about the laws forbidding giving aliens weapons.  And the Deniers clearly wanted to grant aliens more rights.  Could there be a connection there?

She looked out over the field of aristocracy and began to see patterns.  Some aristocrats stayed close together, sharing meaningless chatter about nothing as they ate their food; others refused to even look at other groups, as if they were reluctant to even acknowledge their existence.  Fitz seemed to be among the few who could move from group to group without incurring any enmity, although few of their conversations were important.  Most seemed to want to chat about the upcoming hunt, and acted as though they had already single-handedly slaughtered most of the planet’s animals already.

Mariko looked over at the forbidding jungle and wondered how many people would survive the day.  Most of them, probably.  The hunters would have guns, motion sensors and other advantages the animals couldn't duplicate, no matter how intelligent they were.

“I tell you, Fitz, there’s nothing that beats the lakes on Poseidon,” one young aristocrat said.  He’d captured two of the serving girls and was playing with them while stuffing himself upon meat and bread.  The girls didn't look too keen on being the subject of his attentions, but at least they weren't being forced to serve drinks and appear pretty for the guests.  “Moonlight on Poseidon. You’ll be sure to find a pair of legs opening for you, it’s so romantic.  And then you are guaranteed a night of pleasure on one of their boats.”

He laughed as he quaffed something that smelled like strong ale.  “They have the craziest boat drivers in the universe,” he added, with another laugh.  “You’ll be sure not to keep your lunch if you eat before boating...”

“The Master is correct,” a dour-faced man said, beside him.  “Poseidon is known for its boating adventures.”

Fitz nodded, smiled politely, and left the young aristocrat to his breakfast, walking towards an older-looking woman who had clearly decided to forgo the body-shaping that gave Lady Mary and her fellows the bodies of younger women.  “Four more attacks in as many months,” she said.  “I’m telling you, Fitz, they just don’t take the Rebel seriously.  Those damned Secessionists are cutting right into Archie’s profits.”

“They are a concern,” Fitz agreed, calmly.  “I am sure that Archie is doing what he can to alert Admiral Von Rutherford about the dangers.”

“But he isn't taking it seriously,” the woman insisted.  “Admiral Von Rutherford is convinced – convinced, I tell you – that the Rebel is just another charismatic figure intent on screwing the BEMs out of everything he can before disappearing into the underground.  I think that he’s doing a damn good job of pretending to be a rebel if that’s all he is.  And Archie doesn't really want to rock the boat.  Just because Admiral Stupid is a relative of his on his mother’s side, he thinks that he shouldn't press too hard.  What is going to make him wake up?  The presence of subversives on Greenland itself?”

“Perhaps I should visit,” Fitz said, after a long moment.  “Greenland is not too far off my course and I could make an assessment for myself.  Admiral Von Rutherford might listen to me when he won’t listen to Archie.”

Mariko listened in private amusement, realising that Fitz had been angling for the invitation to Greenland all along.  She didn't know much about the planet, if only because she hadn't considered it as a possible destination, but judging from the woman’s claims it was probably owned directly by the aristocracy or an aristocracy-dominated corporation.

“I’d be delighted to have you visit,” the lady said.  “Archie will be happy to see you – he might not listen to me, although I am related to the Childe Roland by blood, but he will listen to you.”

“Certainly, Auntie Jo,” Fitz said.  “I will be more than happy to assist you.”

The trumpets blew before he could visit anyone else.

Lady Mary’s team of attendants brought out the neo-elephants, colossal creatures genetically altered by Tuff to be faster, smarter and more capable than their cousins on Homeworld or Eden, the garden planet near Homeworld.  Each elephant carried a single box, which would hold a dozen aristocrats with guns and bad intentions towards the local wildlife.  Mariko wondered if the elephants would make such a racket that most wildlife would head in the opposite direction as fast as possible, before remembering that Tuff had programmed the wildlife he’d created and seeded to be extremely aggressive.  The shortage of safety precautions only added to the thrill, as far as the aristocrats were concerned.  Judging by the looks shared by some of the attendants, they were rather more worried about losing an aristocrat on their watch than the aristocrats were about getting killed.  Even if the standard safety precautions had been legally omitted, they might still be blamed if the dead man was important or well-connected enough.

“I booked one of the smaller safari expeditions,” Fitz said, leading them over towards a pair of seven elephants.  Mariko honestly couldn't see how they were intended to climb up to the box until one of the attendants pressed a ladder against the beast’s skin.  The elephant eyed them with disturbingly human eyes as they scrambled up the ladder and into the box, which moved from side to side as the elephant stamped his feet.  “I trust that neither of you get seasick?”

Mariko swallowed hard as the elephant lurched into life, heading down towards the gates that marked the pathway through the jungle.  They were heading away from the lava pools, she realised with some relief, away from anyone who might have seen them last night.  The elephant trumpeted as the elephant handler – the mahout – touched it with his whip, shocking him gently.  She glanced back and saw the rest of the aristocracy following them, heading out into the jungle.  Up close, the canopy looked even more forbidding than it had done in darkness, even if they were proceeding along a road, of sorts.

“Take your gun,” Fitz said, producing his own and checking it quickly.  “Remember: you see something, shoot it first and worry if you were right later.  Some of the creatures here are very dangerous.”

“And some pretend to be human,” the mahout added.  “Anyone not wearing clothes is almost certainly fair game.”

Mariko and Mai exchanged glances.  Would the twins be shot because they weren't wearing enough clothes?  That would be embarrassing for Lady Mary and her cronies to explain.

Fitz shrugged.  “Try not to shoot anyone important,” he said, lightly.  “Their relatives will make such a fuss.”

Chapter Ten

Four days later, Mariko was getting thoroughly bored with hunting – and she could tell that Mai felt the same way.  Most of the hunting trips they’d been on simply hadn't been very interesting, once she’d gotten over the thrill of shooting at half-seen shadows and seeing shapes thumping to the ground, only to be picked up by the handlers accompanying the shooters on their elephants.  Some of the more dangerous safaris were closed to them, but Fitz went on one of the tours and came back covered in animal blood.  Mariko was actually starting to suspect that despite the hype, there were a few safety precautions that kept the less-capable shooters from coming face-to-face with dangerous animals.  Or perhaps they were only allowed to go on the tours that were reasonably safe.

The aristocrats didn't seem to care.  Young men exchanged lies about how many animals they’d bagged, including one who claimed to have taken a shot at a mahout and struck the poor man between his legs.  His companions seemed to find it hilariously funny.  A couple of retainers were blamed openly for spoiling shots that should have certainly struck their target, or for taking shots that should have been left to their masters.

Fitz, at least, didn't seem to care.  He maintained a bored nonchalance that would have fooled her if she hadn't followed him into the jungle the first night.  If he had gone out again and again, she didn't know.  She’d just been too tired after hours of pointless hunting and shooting that she went to sleep almost as soon as her head touched the pillow.  Every day, she wondered if she would see him again, only to discover him emerging from his room with a grin that suggested that he was definitely looking forward to the next hunting expedition.  It was a surprise, therefore, on the fifth day when he called her into his suite for a chat.

“I need you to help me with something,” he said, shortly.  Mariko had been dressing for the ball in the evening and half-wondered if she’d wasted her time.  “If you can do this for me, it will be the last thing I will ask you to do without filling you in completely.”

It would also be the first, Mariko noted.  She hadn't really given him any choice when she’d followed him into the jungle.

“I’d be happy to help,” she said, seriously.  “What...are we safe to talk here?”

“Fine time to ask,” Fitz teased.  “Yes, we’re safe; just try and look a little rumpled when you leave my room.”

Mariko flushed, wondering how Mai would take it if she thought that she was sleeping with their employer.

“But listen carefully.”  He leaned closer, as if he intended to whisper in her ear.  “I’ve been monitoring the OTC system on this planet,” he told her, “but I haven’t been able to hack into their system and pull a data download without setting off the alarms.  I need ten minutes alone in their control room.”

Mariko nodded in understanding.

“I see,” she said.  OTC would have monitored starships passing through the system and landing on the planet at all times, even if some of the ships were unplanned and landing somewhere within the jungle rather than at the complex.  “But how do I get you some time there alone?”

“They’re having a ball tonight,” Fitz said.  “The important detail is that they will only have one person on duty – Tuff isn't Homeworld, and there’s relatively little traffic coming in and out of the system, particularly at night.  I need you to lure that person out of the room and distract him for at least ten minutes.  After that, you should be able to let him go and return to the ball or the cabin if you want.”

Mariko frowned in puzzlement...and then suddenly understood.  What would her mother say?

“You want me to seduce him just to keep him out of your way?”

“Yes,” Fitz said.  He had the grace to sound ashamed at what he was asking.  “I wouldn't ask if there was any other way...”

“I believe you,” Mariko said, slowly.  She knew a little about how OTC systems functioned.  No one wanted just anyone to be able to hack into the computers, or wreakers would be able to cause no small amount of chaos just by directing starships to crash into each other or slam into the planets below.  The Imperium had strict laws on how the systems were supposed to work, even on isolated planets like Tuff.  “And...if I do this, what will you do in exchange?”

“If you and your sister decide you don’t want to stay with me, I’ll let you both go on the next civilised world,” Fitz said.  He certainly sounded sincere.  “I can cancel your debts, even ensure that you have enough cash to get home or buy a new ship.  But I need this done for me today.  Tomorrow we have to leave the planet, or eyebrows will be raised.”

“I see,” Mariko said.  The thought of being a whore, even pretending to be a whore, was repulsive.  And yet she’d been willing to be his whore to spare Mai the same fate.  What did it say about her that she changed her principles on a daily basis?  “I’ll do it for you.”

“Thank you,” Fitz said.  He reached over and rumpled her dress.  “See you at the ball, my dear.”

His acting was astonishingly good.  Mariko wouldn't have believed that he wasn't anything more than an aristocratic playboy if she hadn't seen the transformation for herself.  No wonder Fitz had been so certain that his disguise was perfect – and even though his comrade had died, no one had suspected him.

“Of course, Milord,” she said, with a curtsey.  “See you at the ball.”

***

The sound of thumping music was still audible three floors above the ballroom, where live musicians played dance tunes that echoed all the way back to the years before the Imperium, at least according to Lady Mary.  Some of the aristocrats enjoyed dancing to tunes that were officially frowned upon everywhere else, as if it gave them a thrill they couldn't get through sex or hunting.  Fitz had commented, rather snidely, that there were a few things forbidden to those of even the highest pedigree, which was partly why they wanted them.  Drugs – including one made from processed alien flesh – and certain forms of enhancement augmentation were being passed freely around the ballroom.  Mariko could only hope that Mai had the sense not to touch anything and just dance with the other retainers.

Fitz led her up a flight of stairs and down a long corridor, each doorway leading to a small bedroom where an aristocrat and his chosen partner could linger for the night, if they saw fit.  A handful of doors were closed and locked, but a couple of occupied rooms were open, revealing group orgies that made Mariko blush.  She’d never even considered the possibility of having more than one man at a time, let alone being part of a group that included both males and females.  And there was the room with ten men and ten women, the women bent over while the men moved from woman to woman...

She looked over at Fitz, who seemed to have ignored the whole scene.  “Is it always like this?”

“You tell people that the mere fact of their birth gives them licence to do as they please to those who weren't so lucky in choosing their parents and you get little monsters,” Fitz said.  For once, he sounded angry rather than unconcerned.  “I used to be one of them.”

Mariko looked up at him, just before he held up a hand to stop her and glanced into the next room.  “That one,” he hissed.  “One man in it; get him out of there.”

“Understood,” Mariko hissed.  She felt herself frozen, unable to move.  How could she seduce a complete stranger – and then prevent him from going all the way?  “Ten minutes, you said.”

Fitz nodded and slipped into a nearby room, leaving her standing alone and twisting her fingers together.  What would Mai say if she knew what her sister was about to do?  What would her mother say?  She’d disown Mariko on the spot; she still liked to delude herself that her daughters were virgins.  And yet...the price was right, better than she had expected.  Lord Fitz would probably keep his word.  Under the two personas he projected to the world, there was a good, almost kind person.  He could have easily taken advantage of her back on the Bruce Wayne.

She braced herself and stepped forward, walking into the OTC room.  It was nowhere near as elaborate as she had been expecting, not like the worlds with regular space traffic at all hours.  A single monitor tracked the ships in orbit; another kept a wary eye on flying aircars packed with hunters who thought that they would have better luck taking pot-shots from high overhead...and almost nothing tracking activity inside the complex itself.  There had to be another station that monitored Lady Mary’s guests, she decided, one well-hidden from view.  She wouldn't want them all to realise that she was monitoring them, would she?

The operator looked up from where he had been sitting, his feet propped up on the console in front of him, and looked over at her.  Mariko had altered her dress slightly to show off more of her breasts, even pushing them forward in a manner calculated to attract attention.  Despite herself, planning her presentation had almost been fun.  Perhaps Fitz felt the same way when he moved between his fop and secret agent personas.  The operator wasn't particularly attractive, Mariko realised, but he didn't look to be one of the sadists from down below either.  She could do it!

“Hi,” she said, with a giggle she’d borrowed from the twins.  It was almost easy to slip into the persona she’d designed, as if it was just another form of dress.  “Are you bored up here on your own?”

The operator swallowed.  “I’m afraid this place is closed to everyone, but staff,” he said, with some difficulty.  It wasn't as if OTC on Tuff was particularly important, after all.  “You shouldn't be here.”

“But I have been paid to give you a good time,” Mariko said, with a wink.  “You don’t need to stay here, you know.”

His eyes dropped to her breasts and never moved from them as she came closer.  He probably spent his time watching aristocratic women and the paid retainers showing off their stuff, without ever being able to touch them.  Lady Mary wouldn't have bothered to consider that she should have ordered her retainers to please the rest of her staff as well.

She took his hand and helped him to his feet, smiling down at him as though he was the most attractive man in the world.  He staggered forward and somehow ended up with his hands pushing briefly against her breasts, before stumbling backwards as if they were made of red hot coals.  Mariko fought down a giggle and took him in her arms, pushing her lips against his.

He hesitated and then returned the kiss with surprising passion.  Her guess about him having watched so many of his superiors enjoying themselves without being able to join in must have been right.  He didn't know what to do with his hands; they seemed to slide over her bottom, then jump away as if he didn't seem to realise that she was truly there for him.

Oddly, the thought gave her strength as she led him out of the chamber and down the hallway to one of the open rooms.  He was kissing her passionately even before she had locked the door, half-pushing her towards the bed.  Like so many other young men, part of her mind noted, remembering her adventures as a younger girl, he wasn't really capable of controlling his passions.

“You don’t have to hurry,” she said, as she allowed him to pull off her dress.  His fingers fumbled over the catches, before unlocking them and revealing her bare breasts to his gaze – and wandering hands.  He didn't seem to be trying to hurt her, unlike the guards who had threatened to molest her in prison, something that made it easier for her to tolerate his touch.  Clumsy as he might be, unpleasant and evil he wasn’t.  “We have all night.”

Ten minutes passed slowly as she introduced him to a few things no girl had ever done for him before.  She had already determined that she wasn't going to have sex with him – she hadn't fallen that far, not yet – but she could play with him until his manhood twitched and spurted white liquid over her hand.  Helping him to his feet, hiding her amusement at the shame on his face, she pulled him into the shower and washed him down, even as he tried to twist away from her.  Did he think that he was the only man to have a premature ejaculation, really?  Men liked to claim that women had more problems with sex than they did, but Mariko suspected that it was the other way round.

“Don’t worry about it,” she whispered to him as they pulled on their clothes.  His face was still glowing bright red, even though his breathing had calmed down.  “We’ll see each other again.”

His eyes seemed to light up.  “Really?”

“Of course,” Mariko said, feeling a flash of shame.  It was a promise she would not be able to keep.  What would he think when she didn't materialise at the next ball?  She thought about the short-term memory loss the guard had experienced five days ago and wondered if they should do the same to him, but such a procedure had to be risky.  A simple memory scan would reveal what had happened, even if it couldn't retrieve the lost memories.  “And you were very good.”

She glanced at her watch – twenty-seven minutes had gone by since she’d taken him away from his duties – and then led him out of the corridor, back to his station.  There was no sign of Fitz or anyone else, but there was a single red light blinking up on the console.  She felt a sudden shock, fearing that Fitz might have left some sign of his presence, before the operator tapped a control and the red light turned into a starship requesting permission to enter orbit.

“They had to wait,” he said, and started to giggle.  Mariko joined him, even though she couldn't help, but feel that someone might have a few hard questions for him within an hour.  “Nothing too important, just supplies from Sumter.  Maybe the snobs down there will have to go without their caviar or baked spice cakes for another hour.”

Mariko frowned, inwardly.  She’d been part of the interstellar trading community and she suspected that the bulk freighter taking up orbit was simply too large to be bringing supplies to a single planet.  Unless, of course, they were bringing more than processed foodstuffs.  Almost all planets, even the poorest in the Imperium, could produce enough food to keep their population well fed.  It was rare for any world to be reliant on supplies from the outside universe.  But not every world produced advanced weapons and protective armour for soldiers.

“I have to go back to the ball,” she said, sadly.  She wondered if Fitz felt the same guilt when he manipulated Lady Mary or his Auntie Jo.  Maybe she wasn't cut out to be a secret agent after all.  “Have a good life, all right?”

She left, heading down the corridor before he could call out after her.  The orgy was still going on with as much enthusiasm as ever, probably aided by nanotech supplements that delayed orgasm in men and increased orgasm in women.  They too were carried from world to world by various freighters, sometimes being worth an Emperor’s ransom on worlds that had religious prohibitions against such devices.  A man called out for her to join in and she hesitated, half-wondering if she was already too compromised to object to joining an orgy, before shaking her head and walking onwards.  And then a shadow stepped out of another door.

“Milord,” she said, recognising Fitz.  She would have preferred to be alone, but that wasn't going to happen.  “I...”

Fitz winked at her, took her arm, and led her down the stairs back to the ball.  It was hard, so hard, to keep a normal expression on her face, even though they were surrounded by men and women who considered her one step above an animal, if that.  The care and attention that some aristocrats were prepared to lavish upon their small collections of dogs, cats and even horses never failed to surprise her.  Someone could have fed an entire town on what they spent to feed their pets daily.

Everyone seemed to know...she knew she was imagining it, but their glances seemed to mock her even as she danced with Fitz.  He was a good dancer, moving his feet in time with the music and smiling at her whenever she looked at him.  How could he be so normal about it?  He’d just carried out a data raid on Lady Mary’s OTC and he didn’t seem to even care...he just smiled at her and danced.

“We’ll go back to the ship tomorrow morning,” he whispered in her ear.  He sounded as foppish as ever.  “Have everything packed up for 1000.”

“Yes, Milord,” she said.  She had to maintain her own act, after all.  “And where are we going next?”

“I’ll let you know in the morning,” Fitz said.  He’d promised to tell them other things as well, but...would he keep his promise?  There was no way to know.  “Get an early night.  I have to speak with a few people before I go to bed.”

Mariko nodded, found Mai, and headed back to their cabin.  If nothing else, perhaps they could leave him at the next civilised planet they visited.  And then they could go home.

Chapter Eleven

It was surprising – or perhaps it wasn’t – just how much the Bruce Wayne felt like home.  Mariko felt nothing but relief the moment the shuttle docked and they were out of reach of a vengeful Lady Mary.  If the operator had reported his little encounter with her to his mistress, might his mistress realise that Fitz had used the time to access her computers and download information she would surely prefer to remain hidden?  And then what would she do?  The safaris made an excellent cover for disposing of nosy intruders.

“Take us out of orbit and on a direct course for Greenland,” Fitz ordered, as soon as they had disembarked from the shuttle.  He was holding a small case in his hands, but the remainder of their luggage had been left in the shuttle.  They could empty it out during the voyage to Greenland and replace it with whatever they needed for that planet.  “And then meet me in my cabin for a chat.”

Mariko nodded, fighting down a yawn.  She hadn't really been able to sleep last night, even though she’d been exhausted.  Seducing someone still felt wrong.  Maybe she’d bought their freedom, maybe she’d won them a chance to restart their lives, but it still felt wrong.  She could never discuss it with her parents, even their father.  And their mother would be totally irrational about it.  What if everything had gone horrendously wrong and she’d been caught?

She headed up to the bridge and checked the download from OTC.  On impulse, she put it on the main screen and displayed the take from Bruce Wayne’s passive sensors against the official list.  Two starships had been tracked entering low orbit that hadn't been included on the direct download from OTC, as if Lady Mary hadn't wanted to draw anyone’s attention to them.  Starships in orbit generally relied upon OTC rather than their own systems, which made it a neat way of disguising ships without having to use a cloaking device.  And if someone did ask questions, Lady Mary could dismiss it as a sensor glitch, perhaps caused by Tuff’s odd atmosphere.

“Mariko,” Mai said slowly, “are you all right?”

Her sister was more perceptive than she seemed, Mariko reminded herself.  God alone knew what Mai was thinking.  They’d both been prepositioned by various aristocratic fops over the last week and it had taken a combination of diplomacy and determination to avoid being dragged into their beds.  Mai might have even been wondering if Mariko had failed to evade one of the aristocrats and ended up servicing him one night.

“I think so, yes,” she said.  “But we do have to talk to Fitz once we get into phase space.”

She tapped the console, powering up the phase drive as she sent Bruce Wayne hurtling away from the planet.  Mai left her to her own thoughts as she ran a series of diagnostic programs to check that the drive was working properly before starting the countdown to entering phase space.  Mariko keyed in the command sequence as they passed the phase limit, expecting that any moment would bring an outraged demand from the planet that they stop and prepare to be boarded.  Instead, two minutes after they crossed the phase limit, the stars blurred into a spinning whorl of light and then vanished in the inky absolute darkness of phase space.

“Phase drive online, all readings nominal,” Mai informed her.  There was no reason why they shouldn't be nominal – the Imperial Navy had surveyed the Sumter Sector centuries ago and charted all of the gravitational masses large enough to interfere with phase drive – but Mariko was feeling paranoid.  “What do you want to talk to Fitz about?”

“What I did for him on the planet,” Mariko said, softly.  Right now, it seemed like a dream more than real life.  “Come on.  Let's go find him.”

Surprisingly, they found him in the machine shop, studying a set of devices she didn't recognise.  “Phase space is really little more than a pocket dimension surrounding a ship,” he said, by way of explanation.  “The really interesting part of that little datum is that if anything should happen to be transmitting while we’re in phase space, the signal will be reflected back to us, allowing it to be isolated, tracked down and then destroyed.”

If someone had bugged them, Mariko realised.  “And is there anything?”

“Not as far as I can tell,” Fitz said, with a smile.  “Of course, the smarter people would have programmed their bugs to remain dormant while they’re in phase space, knowing that they wouldn't be able to get any signals out until we return to normal space.  But then, they might not be in position to pick up the signals before we track down the transmitters anyway.”

He shrugged and picked up a small metal wand.  “Lady Mary might well have tried to sting us with bugs, just to see what we might say in private,” he added.  He leaned over and waved the wand over Mariko’s body, and then Mai’s.  “Nothing.  Either she didn't try to bug us or we lost the bugs somewhere along the way back up into orbit.”

Mai stared at him.  “Why do you expect Lady Mary to bug you?”

“She’s up to something,” Fitz said, as he shut down his sensors and headed for the door.  “And she certainly wants leverage she can use to get permission to return to Homeworld.  A single indiscreet conversation on Tuff might give her the tools to blackmail her family into permitting her to return from exile.  Who knows what people might talk about several thousand light years from home?”

Mariko looked at her sister.  “I’m sorry we didn't tell you,” she said, “but...”

“Talk about it in my cabin,” Fitz said, firmly.  He led the way along the corridor and into his suite of rooms.  Mariko and Mai took the sofa, leaving him to sit on a rickety old armchair that might have been worth about as much as the starship itself.  “It’s a very long story.”

Mai was glancing from Fitz to Mariko, her expression a mixture of puzzlement, concern and hurt that they hadn't confided in her earlier.  Not that there had been much choice, Mariko told herself firmly.  The bugs that Lady Mary had scattered everywhere might have picked up on it and then they would have been in real trouble.

“I am not quite as useless as I seem,” Fitz said, after they’d settled down.  “I work for...a small group that is doing whatever it can to stabilise the Imperium.”  He looked over at Mariko, his eyes cold and serious.  “You can tell your sister what we saw in the jungle.”

Mariko hesitated, and then outlined everything from the moment she’d followed Fitz into the jungle to the point where they’d escaped the patrolling guards and made it back to the cabin.  Mai stared at her, as if she didn't quite believe a word of it, until Fitz displayed images taken during their excursion.  One of his augments must include improved eyesight, perhaps even a nanotech camera built into one of his eyes.  No wonder he’d had little difficulty navigating through the jungle.  Darkness probably meant little to him.  The small army of humans and aliens training together, in defiance of all law, shocked Mai just as badly as it had shocked Mariko.  Who knew what the ultimate plan for such an army might be?

“It’s impossible to be sure, but I think that the camp wasn't large enough to take more than a battalion at a time,” Fitz said.  “Unfortunately, there’s no guarantee that that was the only camp.  A planet is a big place, with plenty of room to hide training camps.  There might be a dozen more scattered all over the planet.”

Mariko frowned.  “Then why did she build it so close to the safari complex?”

“There are rare elements scattered through the ground near the lava pools,” Fitz said.  “Basic sensor sweeps wouldn't pick up much of anything from orbit, or even overflights though the atmosphere itself.  Even if someone did happen to pick up on something, there would be a suitable cover story in place to explain energy discharges that just happen to look like a plasma cannon.  And besides, it’s possible that some of the visitors to her complex are actually connected to the plot.  Having the camp a few hours walk from the complex might suit her purposes very well.”

He shook his head.

“But that doesn't answer the real questions,” he added.  “Why is Lady Mary operating a training camp for a mixture of human and aliens?  Who is she working for, if anyone?  And how many soldiers have graduated from that camp and gone...elsewhere?”

Mai looked at him.  She still seemed stunned, but Mariko knew she was thinking hard.  “How long does it take to train a soldier?”

“Civil Guardsmen get eight weeks basic training – assuming that their superiors haven’t decided to pocket the training budget for themselves and simply declared their men competent soldiers,” Fitz said.  “They’re supposed to get an additional four weeks learning a MOS, but that simply doesn't happen very often.  Imperial Marines get a great deal more training before they are unleashed upon the Imperium’s enemies.  Most of the other units fit in somewhere between the two.”

“So...assuming the camp has been open for a year,” Mai said slowly, “it could have produced a minimum of six thousand soldiers?”

“And if there are more camps, that figure is likely to rise rather steeply,” Fitz agreed.  “It is possible that they have adopted a plan where the graduates move on to train newcomers at once, which means that the number of trained soldiers could be in the millions by now.  They won’t have the same level of training as Imperial Marines, but quantity has a quality all of its own.”

Mariko scowled.  “But what does Lady Mary get out of it?”

“I don’t know,” Fitz admitted.  “Maybe she thinks that she was thrown off Homeworld unjustly and has pretty much joined the Secessionists herself.  Or maybe she thinks she can raise her own private army and take the galaxy by storm.  There’s no way to know, short of taking her prisoner and interrogating her – and that might prove impossible.  The Secessionists have been using augments to make themselves interrogation-proof.  There’s no reason to assume that Lady Mary couldn't have done the same for herself, even if it is technically illegal.”

“Typical,” Mariko said.

Fitz nodded, ruefully.

“How did you find out about the camp, anyway?” she asked.

“Don and I were following hints that were leading us towards a recruiting centre on Dorado,” Fitz said, after a moment.  “Someone has been very busy. They’ve been looking for humans and aliens who are dissatisfied with their lot and sending the ones they feel can be trusted into an underground railroad leading here.  We located the recruiting team on Dorado and launched a data raid that went spectacularly wrong.  They had more guards in the building than we realised and...”

He shook his head.  “Don managed to cover me as I escaped, taking the data with me, but they killed him before he could get after me.  I saw the explosion as his body was vaporised, leaving no clues that would have led them to my ship – and me.  It took two days to fake an accident that explained Don’s disappearance to the local authorities, and then I had a bit of a problem.  I’d gone to great lengths to appear a harmless aristocrat, so if I flew the ship out of the system on my own, someone might start to suspect the truth.”

“And then you found us,” Mai said.  She looked at him worshipfully again, much to Mariko’s irritation.  Fitz wouldn’t have been a safe partner for her even before they’d discovered that he was far more than a harmless fop.  “We owe you our lives.”

“I’m very much afraid that you do,” Fitz agreed.  “It is quite possible that Carlos and his family are linked into the Secessionists in some way.”

Mariko considered it for a long moment.  “You seem to be sure that the Secessionists are involved...?”

Fitz snorted.  “Who else benefits?”  He stood up and started to pace, as if he could no longer remain still.  “No planetary governor could hope to benefit from rebelling against the Imperium.  It might take months or years, but the Imperial Navy would respond and the rebellion would be crushed.  And his family would be forced to pay for price for nurturing a traitor.  But the damned Secessionists would benefit from a sector-wide rebellion.  If nothing else, it would be a great deal harder to stop before it spread into nearby sectors.”

He shrugged.  “And besides, the local governors have good reasons to oppose giving aliens the right to bear arms.  But the Secessionists don’t have any problems with treating aliens as equals.”

Mariko looked down at the carpeted deck.  Once, she would have agreed with Fitz; aliens weren't human and shouldn't be treated as human.  But she’d been a slave since then, all-too-aware that her master could do whatever he wanted with her.  Fitz had treated them decently even before they’d been swept into his private intelligence-gathering operation, but he could have treated them badly instead.  He could have treated them as his property and there would have been no recourse, no way to gain their freedom legally.  They had been less than even the Indents.  How could she not feel sympathy for others, even BEMs, who were treated as slaves?

She took her life in her hands and asked a single question.  “Shouldn’t we try to treat the aliens better?”

Fitz shrugged.  “Answer me a question,” he countered.  “How much of the Imperium’s industrial base is dependent upon alien labour?”

Mariko hesitated.  Her father had commented once that it was a great deal easier to hire aliens than humans, although she’d been too young to understand why.  She’d certainly never had the money – or the desire – to hire other crewmen for the Happy Wanderer, not when she and Mai could operate the entire ship by themselves.

Mai guessed, “Fifty percent?”

“Try eighty percent,” Fitz said.  “Oh, there are some parts of the economy that are reserved for humans alone, but alien labour is the linchpin that keeps the Imperium ticking over.  The alien workers don’t have many rights, certainly far less than human workers.  They can be hired and fired on a whim, unlike humans.  And there is a vast and powerful constituency that bases its power upon alien labour.  Do you think that that constituency is going to allow anything to occur that would threaten its power?

“Of course not,” he added, answering his own question.  “Give aliens equal rights to humans and they might start demanding better treatment, all of which would cut into the profits for the next few decades.  And besides, what will happen if aliens start voting themselves into the government – will they undermine the political consensus that keeps the Imperium together?  Or what if they want to leave the Imperium altogether?”

“And then there’s the minor detail that aliens outnumber humans one hundred to one, officially.  Unofficially, it might be a far greater imbalance.  What happens if the aliens decide they want to enslave humanity?  They’d have the votes to make it happen, leaving us with no choice, but to accept enslavement – or start a civil war.”

He shook his head.  “Right now, the Imperium is held together by spit and baling wire,” he said, softly.  “And yet it is all we have.  If the Imperium falls, what happens to civilisation as we know it?  It will go straight down into civil war on a scale unmatched since the Warlord Era.

“The Secessionists believe that if they managed to separate themselves from the dead hand of Imperial control, they would be able to start a new age of economic development vast more efficient than the development dictated by Homeworld.  They don’t seem to realise it, but if they manage to bite off a large chunk of the outer sectors the Imperium itself might collapse.  Or the Grand Senate will do whatever it takes to reassert control over the sectors, sending the Imperial Navy in to bombard rebellious worlds back to the Stone Age.  Billions of humans and aliens will die because the Secessionists refuse to work within the system.”

He shook his head.  “I used to think that I was entitled to my wealth and power because of my birth,” he said.  “And then I met someone who gave me a wake-up call.  And now I do what I can to cripple the Secessionists before they spark a civil war.”

Mai held up a hand.  “Could there be people on Homeworld who want a civil war?”

“It’s a possibility,” Fitz admitted.  “The Grand Senate has been scrabbling over the pieces of a shrinking pie for the last five hundred years.  They may feel that outright war with the Secessionists is the key to gaining more wealth and power.  And then there are the ones who look at the alien powers along the Rim and consider the value of striking at them first, before they can hit the Imperium.  But even if the Imperium won a civil war, it would still be gravely weakened.”

He walked over to the transparent bulkhead and stared out into the inky darkness.

“I’ve told you all I can,” he said after a long pause.  “I do need help, but I won’t drag you any further into this unless you want to be involved.  Just let me know what you decide before we reach Greenland.  I may need your help there.”

“We’ll talk about it,” Mariko said, firmly.  “Is it safe to talk on this ship?”

“If it isn't, we’re dead,” Fitz said.  He smiled, rather sardonically.  “You should be able to talk about anything on my ship.  Just be careful what you say when outside her bulkheads.”

Chapter Twelve

“You did what?”

Mariko felt herself flush again as Mai stared at her.  Confessing to following Fitz into the jungle had been easy, compared to admitting to her sister that she’d seduced a young man on Fitz’s command.  She hadn't had sex with him, but somehow that seemed like a weak excuse when confronted with her sister’s shock.  But maybe it was a good thing.  Mai was just too admiring of Fitz and learning about what he’d asked Mariko to do might convince her that he wasn't her Prince Charming.

“I seduced someone to win him time to carry out a data raid,” she said, flatly.  After hearing about what had happened to Don, Fitz’s last partner, she realised just how badly it could have gone wrong.  What if Lady Mary had had that part of the complex bugged?  “I took him into a room and played with him until he came...”

Mai shook her head.  She'd always known that her elder sister was wild, but wild by the standards of Edo, not by the standards of the aristocratic brats on Tuff.  One or two boyfriends, perhaps some experimentation with another girl...shocking on Edo, yet nothing compared to the pleasures enjoyed by the aristocracy.  And yet deliberately setting out to seduce someone was shocking, particularly when the seduction was little more than an attempt to manipulate him and distract him from his duties.

“You’d better not tell mother,” Mai said, finally.  She hesitated.  “You don’t think he’ll want me to do it too?”

“I very much hope not,” Mariko growled.  She was in two minds about Fitz’s offer to drop them off with enough money to get home or to buy a new freighter.  On one hand, working with him was dangerous, even without the prospect of having to seduce another man at his command.  And she didn't want to put Mai in any more danger.  But on the other hand, they did owe Fitz their lives and...

...And what if he was right?  Mariko had never paid enough attention to politics, but there was no logical reason to raise an army on Tuff unless it was intended to be deployed somewhere else.  Taking Tuff itself – and thousands of aristocratic guests – would have been easy, if the objective was to take hostages for ransom, yet that wouldn't have needed a whole army.  If the Secessionists intended to start an uprising in the entire sector, however, what would happen to the shipping lanes?  None of the half-remembered reports from other revolts were encouraging.  The Secessionists – or the other rebels – had taken freighters from their crews and pushed them into service transporting supplies from world to world.  Many of the captured ships had been destroyed by the Imperial Navy when the revolts had finally been crushed.

If it had just been her, she might have joined Fitz without a second thought.  But with Mai...her sister was brilliant in her way, with an engineering genius that should have seen her heading to Homeworld to study there, but she was largely unaware of how the universe worked.  She could blunder into trouble just by trusting the wrong person.  And perhaps she’d been wrong to trust Mariko, her sister.  Mariko had failed to understand the true nature of Dorado until it had been far too late.  She could have easily gotten them both raped and killed if Fitz hadn't come along and saved their lives.

“We will stay with him,” Mai said, when Mariko outlined her concerns.  “Quite apart from the fact we owe him, do you really want to go back home with a different freighter we would have to explain to father?”

Mariko shook her head, sourly.  Their mother might be more of a snob than Fitz’s foppish exterior, but their father was a hard-headed businessman.  He would probe away at their story until he found out the truth, and then disown whatever was left of them for gross incompetence and indecency.  The only hope for returning home in something like triumph was through working with Fitz, hoping that his family would be willing to give them long-term contacts that would ensure their financial security.

“I’ll go tell him the good news,” she said, reluctantly.  “You can stay here and keep studying the ship’s systems.  See how many surprises the designers might have buried in a mundane hull.”

“Nothing about this ship is mundane,” Mai countered, as she turned back to her console.  “You just remember to find out everything about where we’re going next, all right?”

Mariko was still flushing when she found Fitz on the bridge, studying the navigational console with a thoughtful expression.  Of course he would know how to use it, Mariko told herself firmly.  He could probably fly the ship better than both of them put together.  A star chart was flickering up in front of him, displaying starship trade routes running through a sector too undeveloped to have many formal trade routes.  It took her a moment to realise that he was studying the data he’d pulled from the OTC computers while she’d seduced the operator.

“We would like to stay with you,” she said, shortly.  Fitz smiled, in delight or relief; she couldn't tell which.  “What do you intend to do on Greenland?”

Fitz grinned at her.

“Ideally, pick up a line that should lead me to another recruiting centre,” he said.  “It’s difficult to be sure, of course, but Greenland is definitely a good place for anti-Imperium rebels to be recruiting.  Auntie Jo may not have even scraped the surface when she started worrying about the prospects of real trouble on her world.”

Mariko sat down beside him and studied the star chart.  “Was it worth...what I did to get the information?”

“I’m not sure,” Fitz admitted.  “There was a routine programmed into the system which would automatically handle certain incoming freighters, without letting the operators know that the freighters were even there.  That’s dangerous as all hell on a system like Homeworld, with hundreds of thousands of ships visiting every day, but reasonably safe on a planet like Tuff.  The freighters were even stacked up on the other side of the planet from the complex – not a perfect way to hide anything, yet more than good enough.  Very few visitors would see any reason to question OTC’s account of what was going on in orbit.”

He shook his head.  “Assuming the worst, seventeen bulk freighters visited the system within the last three months that could have been bringing in new recruits from somewhere else,” he added.  “That suggests an army numbering in the millions, one that is likely to be a serious headache for even the Imperial Marines.  But if that’s the case, why haven’t we heard anything by now?”

Mariko considered.  “The longer they have the army without using it, the greater the chance of someone stumbling across their existence?”

“Even so,” Fitz agreed.  “Of course, they could be hiding their army in interstellar space, or on one of the primitive worlds without even a token presence from the Imperium, but it’s still risky.  That suggests that there’s a timetable here we can’t see yet.  Why would they risk a delay when every day they wait increases the chances of discovery?”

“I don’t know,” Mariko admitted.  All of the possible explanations seemed to fail when exposed to logic and reason.  “Perhaps Lady Mary intends to take the war directly to Homeworld...?”

“She’d have to be insane.” Fitz grunted.  “Even in these days, Homeworld and the Core Sector are the most heavily defended worlds in the galaxy.  The strongest units of the Imperial Navy are based in orbit around Homeworld and there is a massive Imperial Marine presence backing them up.  There’s no way they’d get through that kind of firepower and survive.  Besides, it would take years to get there without the wormhole network and ships heading to Homeworld are always searched first.”

He shook his head.  “I hate this moment,” he told her.  “The sense of seeing part of the puzzle, but not all of it – not even enough to be sure that you’re not just looking at the tip of the iceberg.”

Mariko placed a hand on his shoulder, feeling the muscles under his skin.  “Can you tell where the freighters came from?”

“I can tell you where they officially came from, according to the manifests hidden within the OTC system – Jericho,” Fitz said.  “But they could have altered course at any point once they left the system.  They could be going anywhere, and no one would know for sure.”

He shook his head.  “I’ll see what we turn up on Greenland,” he said.  “Until then, it’s time to get you checked out on some of the equipment on this ship.”  He grinned, in a boyish manner that made him looked younger than Mai.  “Some of the toys I have here are really cool.”

***

“I feel naked,” Mariko said, twenty minutes later.  “Why do I feel naked?”

“Because the suit is clinging to your body,” Fitz said.  Mariko looked down at herself and flushed again.  Her nipples were clearly outlined against the black material that made up the suit.  Every curve of her body was visible to his inspection.  She felt even more exposed than when they’d both been naked and showering together.  “It’s actually only a bare few millimetres thick, but it provides a surprising amount of protection from energy weapons fire and active sensor sweeps.”

He looked over at Mai, who was struggling with her own suit.  “Relax and let it adapt to you,” he said, firmly.  “It won’t fit properly unless you give it a chance to adapt.”

Mai was flushing even brighter than Mariko, ashamed of what she was wearing.  Fitz, on the other hand, seemed to be completely professional, barely glancing at them long enough to be sure that they were donning the suits properly.  Mariko did her best to relax and tried moving inside the suit; it moved almost as smoothly as if she were genuinely naked.  The garment seemed to be adjusting to her surroundings, its colour changing to match the images displayed by the holochamber.  She would be almost impossible to spot once she donned the hood and slipped into the darkness, or even against a patterned background.  If they’d been wearing this on their trip into the jungle, they would never have been spotted by the guard.

“They have a chameleon effect, but it isn't perfect,” Fitz said.  “You can spend the next two days practicing until you understand just how they work – and when they don’t work very well.  A standard sensor network won’t notice you unless you get very unlucky, but an advanced sensor network will probably deduce your existence through subtle clues and start vectoring security guards towards you.  Leaving a trail of footprints behind you would be very careless, for example.”

He chuckled as he passed Mariko the hood.  Pulling it on was difficult, for there were no eyeholes or even anywhere for her to breathe.  She started to panic before she realised that she could breathe right through the material, almost as if there wasn't anything covering her mouth at all.  Pressing a finger against the suit, she could feel something blocking her path to her mouth, something that felt too strong to allow oxygen to pass through the material.  Her vision cleared suddenly and she found herself looking at Mai, who was little more than a dark shadow.  And then the chameleon effect cut in and her sister became almost invisible.

“The suit automatically filters the atmosphere for you, allowing you to breathe even if the enemy fills the area with nerve gas,” Fitz said, “but it won’t supply you with oxygen if there isn't any in the air.  You will need to take oxygen packs with you if you suspect that you will be going into vacuum.  It’s also tough enough to withstand a standard knife, but a monofilament blade will cut right through it as if it were made of paper.  Someone who tries to cut the suit slowly, instead of through naked force, will also manage to stick a knife into your body.  There are training simulations in this holochamber and I expect you to work your way through them.”

He shrugged.  “Take off your hoods,” he ordered.

Mariko obeyed, not without a sensation of relief.

“The other thing you need to practice with are the stealth battlesuits,” he told them. “If you will come with me...?”

Bruce Wayne had a dozen hidden compartments, Mariko was starting to realise.  She’d deduced the existence of a couple of them when she’d realised that Fitz was much more than he seemed, but others had been completely unnoticeable until Fitz had pointed them out.  Even in hindsight, she couldn't see how she could have found them without disassembling the entire ship.  The experts who had put the ship together had done a wonderful job.

One compartment housed no less than seven light battlesuits, of a design she’d never seen before.  Combat infantry had been wearing battlesuits for centuries and the designs had been improved over that long period, but these suits were odd.  They might have been specially designed for Imperial Intelligence.  Mariko couldn't understand why he’d brought seven of them on his ship.  Had he expected to lose some suits along the way?

“These suits are designed for both stealthy operations and active combat,” Fitz said.  “In theory, you can enter a planetary atmosphere completely undetected and land safely on the planet’s surface.  When active, they are a match for everything short of Marine Heavy Combat Armour, but don’t get cocky!  One direct hit from a plasma cannon and you’ll lose most of the stealth coating that gives you your advantages.  A second hit means you’ll probably lose active shielding.  And then a third hit will kill you stone dead.  You’re going to be running endless simulations until you’re fully checked out on these machines, just in case we need them.  I hope we won’t, but if we do I need you to be ready.”

He looked at Mai, who stared at one of the combat suits as if it were her dream man.

“You won't find it easy at first to handle them,” he added.  “The Imperial Marines lose more people in battlesuit operations than they do in other missions.  These days, enemy forces reprogram automated systems to cope with battlesuits as they plunge from the sky, taking advantage of enemy surprise to get into the midst.  Try looking up the disaster on Heavenly Gate one of these days.  It’s what happens when someone thinks that a battlesuit makes them invincible.

“And while you’re taking a break, study Greenland carefully,” he concluded.  “I shall expect you to know everything about the planet once we arrive.  I’ll see to packing the shuttle – I just want you to be ready to use the equipment if we need it.  Do you understand me?”

“Yes, sir,” Mariko said, quickly.  She had a feeling that it wouldn't be easy.  “Do you think we should wear them down on the surface?”

“I think we’ll be taking the camouflage suits down to the surface,” Fitz said.  “I sincerely hope that we won’t need anything else.  But I’ll discuss contingency plans with you once I know how much you’ve learned about using a combat suit.”

***

The next four days passed very slowly.  Mariko found herself left with a new respect for the Imperial Marines after she failed, time and time again, the basic tests for operating an armoured combat suit.  It was easy enough to use it violently, slamming armoured fists against holographic opponents and tearing them apart effortlessly, but the more delicate operations constantly failed, no matter how hard she tried.  The training simulation insisted that she should be able to shake a person’s hand without crushing it like an eggshell, yet every time she shook hands with a holographic representation she crushed their hand or pulled their arm right out of its socket.  Frustratingly, Mai seemed to be much better with her armoured combat suit, graduating quickly to training simulations that matched her against any number of opponents.  Mariko hadn't realised how many weapons were crammed into the suits until she saw Mai deploying a dozen different weapons against as many opponents.

“Women generally do better than men without biofeedback augmentation,” Fitz said, that night over dinner.  He seemed more than willing to play the harsh taskmaster, constantly reviewing their performance and commenting on how it could be improved.  “There was an argument for the combat suits that claimed that they would allow women to take their place on the battlefield alongside men.”

Mai considered it.  “Did it work?”

“Of course it worked,” Fitz said, dryly.  “But the moment someone else invented a system that countered the suits, the women found themselves in deep trouble.  Warfare is a constantly evolving state; every time the Imperium makes an advance, its enemies make an advance of their own.  The Secessionists have been sharing data on resistance tactics right across the Imperium, making each new rebellion considerably harder to put down than the last.”

Mariko rubbed her aching arms.  Despite her best efforts, she was still getting an uncomfortable level of feedback from the armoured suit, suggesting that she wasn't ready to take it onto the battlefield.

“Maybe we can surprise them,” she said.  “They won’t expect to see armoured soldiers in a ship like this, will they?”

“The Grenadier Guards used to deploy from a mangy old freighter,” Fitz observed.  He looked over at Mai for a long moment.  “I’m afraid that you will be staying on the ship this time, just in case we need backup.”

Mai started.  “I can't come down to the planet?”

“You wouldn’t like it,” Mariko reminded her.  She’d been reading up on the planet and the kindest word she could think of for Greenland was hellish.

“And beside, Archie is known for his wandering hands,” Fitz added.  “It will provide an excuse to keep you in orbit, out of sight and out of mind.”

Chapter Thirteen

From orbit, Greenland didn't look any different from countless other worlds that had been terraformed into something suitable for human life.  It wasn't until Mariko brought the shuttle down into the atmosphere that she started to see signs that something wasn't quite natural about the planet.  Great plantations of green crops were understandable, even recognisable, yet there were also vast ruins that marked the existence of a pre-technology intelligent race.  Beside her, she heard Fitz grunt in dismay as the extent of the devastation became clear.  The humans who had settled Greenland had largely crushed a flourishing alien civilisation to suit their needs.

Greenland had been perfect, except for an atmospheric balance that was ill-suited to human settlement.  Instead of either engineering a race of colonists who could live naturally on the planet, or simply leaving it and its inhabitants alone, the settlers had embarked upon a terraforming effort that had turned the atmosphere into something humans could breathe.  The aliens, seemingly more adaptable than humans, had somehow survived the transformation of their world, but that had only been the start of their suffering.  Human settlers had transformed vast sections of their land into giant plantations and put the aliens to work for the benefit of their human masters.  What remained of the alien civilisation had been shattered by contact with the Imperium.  Some of them worshipped their human masters as gods, a concept that Mariko found faintly blasphemous.  Others would do whatever it took to have the humans removed from their world.  Just because they hadn't developed any serious technology before they’d been discovered didn't mean that they were stupid.

But, as the report had made clear, it was unlikely that the planet’s owners would ever leave Greenland to its own devices.  By a sick twist of fate, the terraforming program had created a grape-like fruit that could be turned into wine, a wine that had rapidly become Greenland’s greatest export.  Anyone who wanted to free the locals and send them back to the life they’d enjoyed before human contact would have to contend with the aristocrats who had grown rich on selling the wine.  Water of Life, they called it.  Absently, Mariko wondered what their customers would have thought if they’d known the truth of its origins.

“That's the beacon there,” Fitz said.  Unlike most worlds, Greenland had no proper spaceport while OTC was handled by an independent company in orbit around the planet.  Each of the giant plantations had their own landing pads, allowing them to invite their customers down for a drink and a chat before assigning them sections of each year’s crop.  There was no futures market on Greenland; once the prices were set, it was a matter of first come, first served.  “And that’s Archie’s residence just behind it.”

Mariko lifted an eyebrow in disbelief as the colossal white house came into view.  It was situated neatly in the midst of an elegant garden, one showing both human and alien plants from a dozen different worlds.  A handful of children, all human, played a game of catch through the foliage, watched by a pair of matrons who seemed to divide their attention between knitting and watching the children.  There were no aliens in the innermost compound at all, not even someone from one of the more trusted alien races.  The natives were all on the outside.

She saw them working on the crops as the shuttle floated overhead and came down towards the landing pad.  They were roughly humanoid, but their skins were slimy, as if they were used to more water than was in the air.  There was no data in the files on just what Greenland had looked like before the terraforming had begun, yet Mariko was convinced that the world had been cooler and wetter.  It might take centuries before the locals evolved into something that found the new climate comfortable, unless the humans helped them out with genetic engineering.  But that would have required an empathy that the settlers seemed to lack.

“They simply don’t care what happens to the aliens,” Fitz said, when Mariko pointed that out.  “As far as they are concerned, the good times will keep rolling and the aliens will remain happy and contented to be oppressed...and in the meantime, this world serves as a recruiting poster for the Secessionists.  They can just point to Greenland and ask if anyone expects that their worlds will be shown any more forbearance if there’s money in it.”

The shuttle touched down and Mariko stood up, donning the utility belt that Fitz had produced for her.  No one would question her carrying a firearm, thankfully, and even if they did Fitz had obligingly produced a pair of blank permits for them to carry.  The other devices in the belt might come in handy if they managed to track down the recruiting station the Secessionists had installed on the planet, somehow.  Right now, Mariko wouldn't have been surprised to discover that every non-human on the planet was a die-hard secessionist.

“Come on,” Fitz said.  “Let's go and meet Archie.”

The planet’s atmosphere smelt wrong to her, almost as soon as she stepped out of the shuttle.  It was cool, yet dry, with a faint smell of something dead slowly drying out in the sun.  Perhaps the entire planet was dying slowly, she told herself as Fitz followed her out of the shuttle, closing the hatch behind them.  The terraforming program hadn't been unleashed on a dead world, one that could be brought to life with some care and attention, but on a living world that might have started to fight back.  Her eyes stung as the wind shifted course and blew right across them, making her eyes sting due to the little flakes of dust in the air.  She found herself blinking rapidly to get rid of them.

Archie turned out to be a tall aristocrat, wearing a white suit and a large hat that kept the sun out of his eyes.  He carried a small whip curled up at his belt, along with a gun and a grim expression that just dared anyone to pick a fight with him.  The vast hordes of natives outside the walls could have overwhelmed him and the rest of the plantation staff within  minutes if they’d chosen to charge, but somehow they remained broken.  They’d probably had a demonstration of what human weapons could do if they rebelled openly against their overlords.  Mariko had learned, while learning how to use the armoured combat suit, that some planets kept a QRF of armoured soldiers on standby in orbit at all times.  They could get to any rebellion and crush it before it got out of hand.

“It’s good to see you again, Uncle,” Fitz said.  Mariko would never have known that he had sounded just as sickened as she was by what Archie’s relatives had done on Greenland, if she hadn't heard him on the flight down to the planet’s surface.  “Auntie Jo sends her regards.”

“Jo worries too much,” Archie said.  He had a gruff voice, but one with an undertone of smug satisfaction that Mariko didn't like at all.  “And who is this radiant beauty that you have brought to see me?”

“This is Mariko, my current retainer,” Fitz said.

Archie took Mariko’s hand and shook it firmly, all the time allowing his eyes to run up and down her body.

“I’m afraid that she’s currently assigned to me, and me alone,” Fitz said, sounding regretful.

“What a pity,” Archie said.  “Anyway, if you will both come into the house, I’ll have some drinks served at once.”

Mariko managed to keep herself from flushing, although she wasn't sure how.  Retainer didn't just mean assistant or servant to the aristocracy.  It also included courtesan or whore.  But at least Fitz seemed to have ensured that Archie wouldn't be pawing at her tonight.

Archie waved towards a woman on a house in the distance.  “I’m afraid that Cecelia is currently on horseback, and you probably won’t see her until dinner.  But once she is here, you will get an earful about her horses.”

Fitz didn't quite groan.

“I look forward to it, Uncle,” he said.  Mariko could tell that he was being untruthful.  “But I’m afraid that your wife did have some concerns she wished me to discuss with you.”

“Ah, women are always worrying,” Archie said, as they walked inside.  He elbowed Fitz gently.  “You just can’t get a woman to relax unless you have enough money or power to convince her that you will take care of her.  Why I married Jo, I will never know.”

“You wanted to unite your assets with her share in this plantation,” Fitz said, rather dryly.  “Does Lady Mary still have interests in this planet?”

“Lady Mary owns the plantation two hundred miles from here,” Archie said.

Mariko glanced at Fitz, who winked at her when Archie wasn't looking.

“She doesn't sell as much as we do,” Archie told them, “but what she does sell is very good.  I keep offering to buy her plantation and operate it properly, yet she keeps refusing.  Jo might have been able to talk her round, but Jo...seems to think we should double our security here.”

“Or possibly triple it,” Fritz murmured.  So far, Mariko hadn't seen any signs of any security.  “Do you not have a starship assigned from the sector fleet?”

“Ah, that would cost too much in bribe money for the ship and her commander,” Archie said, firmly.  “Right now, the Slimes know better than to pick a fight with us.  Why, if it wasn't for us, they’d still be grubbing in the mud, trying to rub two sticks together to make fire.  Instead, they have access to all the tools of our superb civilisation to improve their lives.”

“I think that that is what Jo’s worrying about,” Fitz said.  The irony slid past Archie and vanished somewhere in the haze.  “Right now, some active security might be a very good investment.”

“Relax,” Archie said.  “A handful of tiny attacks are nothing!  If they attack us, well...they know what they will get.  And who cares if a convoy or two gets shot at by the rebels?  It isn't as if they can actually do any damage in the long run.  Relax.”

***

“Is it just me,” Mariko said, when they’d been shown to their rooms and checked them for bugs, “or is Archie completely insane?”

“He’s been absolute master of the universe for so long that he has problems recognising that that could change,” Fitz said.  He’d pulled a small terminal out of his belt and started to tap away on it.  “The Slimes could charge up to his house and paint the walls with WE ARE GOING TO KILL YOU HUMAN BASTARDS and he wouldn't notice.  He is right about one thing: the Slimes might kill every human on the planet, but that won’t deter the Imperial Navy from retaliating.  The Slimes would die in their millions as fusion beams pour down from the skies high overhead.”

“But would they understand that?”  Mariko asked.  “If they were a pre-space race before they were discovered, would they even comprehend that starships and orbital weapons even exist?”

“There were a few thunderbolts from the skies back when the planet was being settled,” Fitz said, absently.  “I assume they know what they face, even if they don’t really understand it.  But they’re not stupid and if the Secessionists are involved, chances are that they understand exactly what will happen if they rise up in revolt.”

Mariko winced.  A modern planet, with a combination of ground-based planetary defence centres and orbital weapons platforms, could reasonably hope to hold off the Imperial Navy for days, perhaps weeks.  Taking a defended planet by storm was never an easy operation at the best of times.  But Greenland possessed no defences at all, not even a handful of orbital weapons platforms.  A single gunboat could take up position in orbit and systematically bombard the planet back to the Stone Age.

Fitz looked up from his console.

“Lady Mary owns the Halfway Plantation, two hundred and thirty miles from here,” he said, changing the subject.  “And, incidentally, the Halfway Plantation is the only place that hasn't reported any rebel activity at all.  They're on the coastline so you’d expect to see thousands of deserters, or rebel attacks, but none have been reported.  A small staff operates the place for Lady Mary and generally only supplies Tuff with Water of Life...”  He grinned at her.  “Fancy another excursion tomorrow morning?”

Mariko blinked.  “You think they’d just let us go?”

“I think that Archie wouldn't think that we would be in any real danger,” Fitz said.  “We can take a hovercraft and set out on a course that will bring us right up to the border between the two plantations, and then...see what happens to us.  I’ll ask Mai to launch a pair of stealth drones to overfly the plantation and take a careful look for any signs of trouble.  This isn't Tuff – it will be a great deal harder to conceal something without leaving signs that can be picked up from orbit.”

He stopped as there was a knock on the door.  “Come in,” he called, once he’d buried the terminal under the pillow.

A maid stepped in and bowed.

“Yes?” he asked, sounding every bit the bored, jaded aristocrat.

“Lord Archie and Lady Cecelia would be pleased to see you in the drawing room,” the maid said, with a bow.  She was pureblood human, oddly.  On a world with so few humans, having one as a servant was a sign of wealth and power.  “Afternoon tea will be served in ten minutes.”

“Come on,” Fitz said.  He recovered the terminal, then stood and held out a hand.  “Let’s go see what they have to say for themselves.”

***

Five minutes after meeting Lady Cecelia, Mariko became convinced that she was the most boring woman in the entire galaxy, even more boring than some of her mother’s older friends.  The only thing that seemed to cross – or canter across – her mind were horses, of which she owned an entire stable that she’d been raising on Greenland.  She had a private starship that allowed her to attend hundreds of different horse fairs right across the galaxy, only coming back to Greenland to inspect her livestock and keep a wary eye on her subordinates, who – she seemed convinced – spied on her genetic experimentations and stole horse DNA for her rivals.  A woman old enough to be Mariko’s grandmother should not be so boring – her father’s mother had been exciting until the day she'd lain down and died – but Cecelia was just too tedious for words.

She wasn't even the strangest member of the dysfunctional family that ruled the plantation and upwards of a hundred thousand aliens who were slaves in all but name.  Two of the younger sons were well on their way to becoming spoiled brats, casting lustful looks at the maids as if they wanted to rip their clothes off on the instant and make love to them.  One of the girls was a screaming child who seemed to expect everyone to pay attention to her right now – and the other one was silent and withdrawn, as if she had grown up too much in the shadow of her louder sister.  Even the servants seemed almost part of the family, if very junior members of it.  But then, they were humans on a world where there couldn't be more than a couple of thousand humans at most.

“I tell you, the population in sector four just keeps rising,” one of the older women was saying, with a vehemence that seemed quite unsuited to the topic at hand.  “We should never have given the Slimes modern medicine and insights; right now, every egg they lay pops out a healthy young Slime.  If something doesn't happen soon to the birth rate, we’re going to be drowning in Slimes.  I think we need to consider spaying them as they reach their maturity, before they can start popping out more eggs.”

Mariko shuddered at the calculating disdain in the woman’s voice.  She wasn’t being cruel; it would have been easier to accept if she was just being sadistic.  But instead, she was merely calculating the advantages and disadvantages to the plantation if the birth rate continued to rise.  Mariko knew enough, from the reports, to know what happened if a primitive population got hold of modern medicine.  There was always a colossal population explosion, which evened out over the next hundred years or so.  But on a planet as fragile as Greenland, an additional few thousand mouths to feed might be disastrous.

“But they wouldn't thank us for sterilising them,” a younger man pointed out.  “It’s not as if they have much of a life working for us...”

“It’s for their own good,” the older woman insisted.  “They don’t have the perspective we do to know that a population explosion would be bad for them...”

Fitz took Mariko’s arm and steered her away gently before they realised that she had been listening.  “Come and look at this,” he muttered in her ear, as they approached the balcony.  They could look out over the plantation as the sun slowly sank in the sky, turning the air fiery red as it sunk below the horizon.  “Listen.”

For a moment, there was nothing...and then there was a long mournful howling from the Slimes in the field.  The howl rose in pitch until Mariko felt shivers running down her spine, understanding that the Slimes were mourning a world gone forever.  They might not know precisely what the human race had done to them, but they certainly knew that something had happened.  The undercurrent of loss and helpless rage seemed to cross species barriers.  How could anyone mistake the Slimes for barbarians?

And how could anyone expect them to remain slaves forever?

Fitz nodded back toward the crowd inside the lighted room.  None of them seemed to hear the howl, or to care.  They just chatted about nothing as their time slowly ran out.

“We go out on our trip tomorrow,” Fitz muttered.  “And pray to God that we’re in time.”

Chapter Fourteen

“Do you know how to drive this thing?”

Mariko nodded.  The hovercraft was almost brutally simple, little more complex than an aircar.  Apart from making sure that the cushion of air remained firmly under the hovercraft’s lower body, there really wasn't much else to do, but steer.  The technology had been familiar for thousands of years.

“Enjoy your drive,” one of the innumerable ladies called.  The wink she sent towards them suggested that she expected that they intended to stop somewhere along the way and make love.  Mariko would have flushed if she hadn't been too busy checking the hovercraft’s systems.  “Don’t forget to get back in time for dinner.”

Fitz nodded politely, waved his hat towards them and settled down into his seat.  “Get us out of here,” he ordered, tightly.

The hovercraft roared to life at Mariko’s command and headed down towards the gate, which opened automatically at their approach.  She felt the vehicle shake right and left before she managed to master it properly and take it out of the gate, onto the wide road leading northwards.  On each side, she saw endless lines of plants – and thousands of aliens tending them.  The Slimes looked uncomfortable as they moved, slowly and with infinite care, from one plant to the next.

“I’ve called Mai and told her to monitor us from orbit,” he told her.

Mariko glanced upward, but of course there was no sign of Bruce Wayne.  “What do you expect us to find?”

“I don’t know yet,” Fitz said.  He sounded irritated; he’d had to spend the morning listening to Lady Cecelia babbling on about horses and how her latest cross-bred horse had won the Imperium’s Grand Planetary Race.  In some ways, she seemed just as insane as Tuff when it came to splicing several different animals together into a new breed.  “Ideally, we should find some clues on Lady Mary’s plantation while we try to order some of her Water of Life for the ship.”

Mariko smiled as the hovercraft picked up speed.  They’d worked out an elaborate cover story for their visit, only to discover that Archie and the rest of his family hadn't even bothered to ask why they were going.  The family had been so unconcerned that Mariko had wondered if they too were tied in with the rebels, because it seemed madness not to keep close track of the handful of humans on the planet.  If some of the reports were to be believed, quite a few humans had vanished since day one.

She looked over at the Slimes and shivered.  They seemed to be obediently working on the plants, as ordered by their human masters, but there was something in the air that suggested that they were just biding their time.  Their position was so hopeless that even a futile revolt, one that forced the Imperial Navy to scorch the planet, must have seemed a better deal than continuing to work for their human overlords.  How long would it be before they marched on the plantations' houses and burned them and their masters to the ground?

Mariko considered herself a loyal citizen. Edo had been part of the Imperium since its inception, five thousand years ago.  What few records of the Warlord Era had survived suggested that it had been disastrous for the human race, with entire planetary populations wiped out on a whim, and the Imperium – as unpleasant as it was – was a definite improvement.

And yet...the planters on this world had effectively destroyed an entire alien civilisation just to grow a few grapes.  How could she blame any of the aliens on the planet for joining the Secessionists?  What did they have to lose, apart from their chains?

Edo enjoyed the same limited autonomy as most of the other developed worlds, but there were hundreds of thousands of worlds that were at the mercy of their core world masters.  It hadn't been something she’d understood when she’d left Edo, yet now she was starting to see why the Secessionists kept trying to overthrow the established order.

So many worlds would have become gardens by now if they hadn't had to keep repaying their founding loans to the Core Worlds, or allow themselves to be raped by older and richer worlds and corporations.  It was a chilling thought, but might the Secessionists have a point?  And what about the countless alien races ground under by humankind?

“I asked myself the same question,” Fitz admitted, when she chanced bringing the subject up.  “Does the Imperium even deserve to survive?”

He looked over towards the endless rows of vines, thinning out as they reached the edge of Archie’s plantation, and scowled.  “Maybe we should have treated the other races better from the start. Maybe we should have constructed a political system that wasn't weighted so heavily in favour of the older worlds.  But that doesn’t change what we have to deal with right now.  If we granted aliens the same rights as human beings, the Imperium would fall apart within a decade, followed rapidly by genocide.”

She looked at him in alarm.

“The Slimes aren't the only race that hates us,” he reminded her.  “They’d all turn on the human race, and only a handful of us would survive.

“The only real hope is gradual reform, but there are thousands of entrenched interests that will fight reform tooth and nail.  Here, on this planet, you’ve seen the planters.  They have their supporters back home; hell, there’s an entire industry built around Water of Life.  None of them will agree to any reforms that might destroy the industry, or grant the slaves some rights that will make it harder to force them to work in the plantations.”

“They could move the vines to an orbital settlement, one configured to match the environment on Greenland,” Mariko pointed out.  “Wouldn't that be a great deal simpler than keeping the planet midway through a terraforming cycle?”

“Of course it would,” Fitz said.  “And if you asked Archie, he would come up with hundreds of excuses about why it couldn't be done.  Propose the plan back on Homeworld and there would be millions of lobbyists lining up to speak against your plan, while Archie’s family and everyone else who profits from Water of Life would be quietly moving to have the plan permanently shelved.”

He shrugged.

“The hell of it is that Greenland isn't the worst place in the Imperium,” he added.  “Start granting aliens rights and the entire edifice will start to shake – and then we will go all the way down to a new dark age, the twilight of the human race.”

Mariko looked at his grim face and understood, suddenly.  Fitz cared, more than he was prepared to admit.  The Imperium wasn't much, but it was all they had and he needed to work to prop it up, which meant condoning thousands of atrocities committed by humans against their fellow humans – and countless alien races.  She recalled what he had said about the Imperium slowly dying and wondered what would happen when the links between Homeworld and humanity’s far-flung colony worlds snapped.  How long would it be before the power vacuum was filled with warlords, or aliens intent on revenge against humanity?

They drove onwards through the remains of an alien city, pausing long enough to study the alien buildings that were now overgrown with genetically-engineered plants.  The terraforming team hadn't cared about the damage they were inflicting on the Slimes; they’d created plants that absorbed the planet’s previous atmosphere and pumped out the oxygen-nitrogen mix favoured by humanity.  Their creations had grown at astonishing speed and torn an alien city apart.

Mariko shuddered as she studied the odd buildings, subtly wrong to human eyes.  The Slimes had never had a chance.  Most of them had probably never realised why their world was changing so rapidly, why their atmosphere was slowly becoming poisonous.  It would have been worse for the children and the elders, she reflected, as she looked up at a giant alien temple, now coming apart at the seams.  They would have died, leaving their helpless parents and children terrified for the future and mourning their loss.

Orbital bombardment would have been kinder.

“They would have forced the population to move away from their cities,” Fitz said, as Mariko turned the engine back on and steered north, away from the fallen city.  “Most of the survivors would have gone into work camps intended to make them slave for their new masters, in exchange for supplements that would help them to survive their new world.  Others would have hidden in the countryside, and perhaps thought of striking back.  But how could they have grasped the concept of starships and aliens from another world?”

Mariko nodded, feeling bitter shame for the entire human race.  A culture that had barely climbed out of the water – or the slime, for the Slimes – would not have been able to comprehend the ideas behind modern technology.  They wouldn't have understood starships, or directed energy weapons, or even the processes behind terraforming.  Some of them would have worshipped the newcomers as gods; others would have been unable to cope with such a shift in their worldview and died.  The Janus Legend would have claimed another victim.

“Janus wasn't like they say,” Fitz said, but he refused to be drawn any further on the subject.  “How long until we reach Lady Mary’s plantation?”

“About an hour,” Mariko said.  The hovercraft didn't seem to have any problem on the alien-built roads, even though she couldn’t understand why anyone would have used brute labour to build a road when machines were cheap.  But they would have had to have been shipped to Greenland while the alien population was already present.  “Maybe a little less if we can pick up speed now.”

Fitz shrugged and returned to his thoughts.

Mariko glanced at him, and then looked back at the road.  A handful of Slimes – they had to be children – appeared out of nowhere, saw them and then vanished back into the foliage.

Auntie Jo had to be right, Mariko realised, although she wouldn't have willingly granted that woman anything.  The Slimes had returned to their cities and were hiding entire armies in the spaces between plantations.  Who knew what they might be planning in the long term?  A renunciation of the Janus Legend?

She knew the story, of course: every human learned it in basic education, even on the primal worlds where technology above a certain level was banned.  Janus had been a planet surprisingly close to its primary star for life to develop, too close for any form of terraforming to turn it into a place humans could live.  A number of scientists had set up research bases in orbit and sent teams down to study the unique vegetation that had flourished on the surface.  One of those missions had discovered a real surprise: intelligent life on a world where carbon-based intelligent life should have been impossible.  The scientists, having no designs on the world, started to talk to the aliens rather than bringing them under humanity’s sway.

They’d been open with the aliens, perhaps too open.  The aliens hadn't known about the stars – their planet’s atmosphere was simply too thick for them to realise that their sun was only one of millions of stars – or about the existence of other life forms.  They’d eventually realised that the galaxy belonged to humanity, that anything they might do for themselves had already been matched and surpassed by the human masters of the universe.  And then, the entire race had committed suicide.  They’d seen no point in living in a universe dominated by the human race.

The Purity League had been quick to point out that the aliens had been ill-suited for life in a human universe, that in fact the universe was humanity’s and no other race should be permitted to survive.  They, Mariko knew, wouldn't have hesitated if they’d been offered a chance to wipe out all non-human forms of life.  Perhaps they saw it as a final solution to the problems facing the Imperium, the dependence on alien labour combined with alien reluctance to serve the Imperium without being granted rights.

But others had been less inclined to accept that judgement.  They’d argued that there should be no direct contact between humanity and a primitive race until the primitive race discovered spaceflight.  Maybe then, contact could be made on more even terms.

But if the Janus Legend she’d been taught wasn't the truth...?

“I never asked,” she said, to Fitz.  “How did you get involved in this in the first place?”

“My father sent me to the Guards in the hopes they would make a man of me,” Fitz said, flatly.  “I told you what happened to me then.  Luckily, I attracted interest from some others interested in trying to save and reform the Imperium; one of them arranged for me to have the training and augmentation I would need to move around the Rim as a trouble-shooter.  And then I had the ship constructed to my specifications and set out with Don in the hopes of saving the Imperium.”

Mariko heard the edge in his voice and shut up.  He’d worked with someone with the same augments and training as himself, someone who had clearly been much more than a subordinate – and that person had been killed by the Secessionists.  Now he had to carry on his mission with a pair of amateurs as his only support.  Mariko had seen enough during their training sessions to be aware of how much they didn't know.  And they certainly weren't augmented, unlike Fitz.  They would be at a gross disadvantage in a fight.

The hovercraft continued to rumble along as they turned down a side road and headed up towards Lady Mary’s plantation.  In the distance, Mariko could see clouds forming with astonishing speed, as if it were going to rain at any moment.  Tuff had had frequent rainstorms, despite the best efforts of Lady Mary’s weather control technicians, but rainstorms weren't that common on Greenland.  The terraforming program had screwed up the weather beyond easy repair.  She heard the sound of thunder from the sky and shivered.  The last thing she wanted was to be caught in the open by a rainstorm.

“Drive faster,” Fitz ordered, as a second peal of thunder echoed through the sky.  “We should be able to take shelter in the plantation house if it does start to rain...”

The world seemed to explode around them.  Mariko screamed as the hovercraft spun wildly to one side, gravity forces pushing her back into her chair.  The rows of vines were coming at them at terrifying speed...and then they crashed through the vines, the air cushion collapsing and leaving them heading right for the ground.  There was a terrible crash as the hovercraft hit bottom, glass windows shattering with the force of the impact.

Mariko suspected that she’d blacked out for a second.  She appeared to have crashed without any clear memory of how they’d managed to fly off the world.

Fitz was pulling at her, tugging out of her seat.  “Are you all right?”

Mariko managed to scramble out, with his help, and stand on unsteady legs outside the hovercraft.  A plume of smoke was rising up from the side of the road, marking the point where something had exploded beside their vehicle.  Mariko remembered what little she’d been taught about hovercraft and realised that the explosion had forced them sideways, right into the vines.  Thousands of credits worth of vines had been destroyed as the hovercraft scythed through them before finally crashing to a halt.

“I think so,” she said, finally.  She’d coped with near-disasters in space without losing her cool, so why was she shaking now?  “What happened?”

“An IED,” Fitz said, grimly.

The term meant nothing to Mariko.

“An Improvised Explosive Device,” Fitz explained.  “Very common on worlds that don’t have a proper weapons industry of their own.  A smart person can invent an IED from common materials available anywhere and place it somewhere for an unwary Marine or Civil Guardsman to stumble over.  Given enough raw materials, you can make life very unpleasant for a heavily-armed combat unit even without technological equality.”

He shook his head as another burst of thunder rippled through the sky.  “We’ll have to go to Lady Mary’s plantation house and hope we can call Archie from there,” he said.  “If not...”

Mariko frowned.  “We could call Mai, couldn't we?”

“I’d prefer not to reveal that we can do that unless the situation turns from serious and becomes desperate,” Fitz said.  He didn’t sound as if he were joking.  “And besides, if someone left an IED here to discourage visitors, they might have an HVM launcher hidden away as well.”

They walked back onto the road and started to head northwards, Fitz leading the way and watching for other IEDs.  Mariko could understand why the devices were so feared, even by the most advanced military forces.  A single IED in the right place could bring an advance snarling to a halt.  She hadn't seen any sign they were about to trigger one until it had actually exploded; even a military force in battlesuits would have difficulty noticing one until it was too late.  The experts who defused them had to be the bravest men in the Imperium.

The vines beside them rustled suddenly and a dozen Slimes appeared out of nowhere, carrying what looked like primitive weapons in their hands.  Mariko froze as the semi-amphibious aliens pressed in around them, fish-like hands pawing at their belts and removing weapons, tools and communicators.  A moment later, two of them pulled her hands behind her back and used a metal tie to secure them behind her.  Fitz, it seemed, was getting the same treatment.

“Come,” the lead alien hissed, as if he – or she – had a permanently sore throat.  “You come now.”

Alien hands pushed at her and she started to walk after the aliens as they headed back into the vines.  Fitz didn't seem to be too worried, at least.  He grinned at her as they were pushed onwards, just before he pulled his foppish persona around him.  He wouldn't worry about a thing.

High overhead, another roll of thunder announced the start of a rainstorm.

Chapter Fifteen

The rain came down like a tempest out of a nightmare.  Sheets of water hit the vines overhead, splashing down on the humans below.  Mariko felt the water running over her body and shivered, wishing that she could raise a hand to cover her stinging eyes.  The rainwater tasted funny, as if something had been mixed with the droplets of water.  Part of the terraforming program, perhaps, or something different?  She stumbled, slipping and sliding through the mud, and watched the aliens resentfully as they seemed to have no problems with the water.  Indeed, they seemed to enjoy it.

I should have researched the Slimes more thoroughly, she told herself, angrily.  Her father had always taught her to research carefully but she had always tried to ignore his advice.  Lack of research had gotten her into trouble on Dorado, and now Greenland.  She didn't even know what the Slimes called themselves, if any research had been done on their civilisation and culture prior to its destruction.

The aliens burbled to one another in voices that seemed more alive in the rain, speaking a language she couldn't understand.  Imperial Standard One didn't seem to have anything in common with their language.  But then, that wasn't surprising, she told herself.  Their mouths were clearly very different from human mouths.

A hatch opened in the ground and the Slimes marched right in down a darkened tunnel that seemed to be covered in slippery mud.  Mariko slipped as she stepped inside and had to endure the indignity of a pair of aliens grabbing her shoulders and holding her upright until she managed to regain her footing.  Water drifted through the air, providing a moistness that reminded her of parts of Tuff, something that was probably good for the Slimes.  Once they reached the bottom of the tunnel, the walls were illuminated with dull red lights, each one casting an eerie glow over the complex.  Hundreds of Slimes seemed to infest the complex, all carrying weapons that looked crude, but effective.

Mariko wondered how anyone could build such a complex without the human overlords noticing, before remembering how unconcerned Archie had been about the Slimes.  Anything they saw would probably be dismissed as unimportant.

The liquid in the air seemed to grow stronger as they were thrust into a small room, with the door firmly closed and locked behind them.  Mariko struggled against the tie around her wrists, but it was metal and refused to budge, no matter how hard she struggled.  Fitz seemed to have remained inhumanly calm, sitting down on a damp bed and rolling his eyes at her in the dim red light.  It must have been what the Slimes found comfortable, or something they remembered from the day before their world was reshaped to suit humanity.  Mariko opened her mouth to demand that he do something, before realising that the cell would almost certainly be bugged.  But what would happen now?  Kidnapping someone like Lord Fitzgerald wasn't like killing a handful of workers or even raiding a plantation in the middle of the night.  There would be questions asked by his family, perhaps with the Imperial Navy ordered to investigate directly.  And that would risk exposing the presence of the rebel cell to human forces.

She smiled, rather sourly.  It was unlikely that the Imperial Navy would be as disinterested as the planters on Greenland.  The rebels could hardly hope for someone less observant than Archie and his family, with the possible exception of Auntie Jo.  But Jo was back on Tuff, she assumed, visiting Lady Mary.  Or would she have come to grief in the jungles when Lady Mary realised what she wanted the Imperial Navy to do?  One careful investigation might reveal Mary’s involvement with the Secessionists.

“Don't worry about a thing,” Fitz said, in his foppish voice.  “I’m sure that this is just a misunderstanding and we will get it sorted out soon enough.”

Nearly an hour passed before the cell door opened and a pair of armed guards came inside.  One of them grabbed Mariko and pulled her to her feet – the Slimes were stronger than she’d realised, or perhaps these Slimes had been raised in what they considered a natural environment – before pushing her towards the door.  The other one helped Fitz to his feet and shoved him after Mariko, forcing them both down a long muddy corridor.  Darkness seemed to fill half of the rooms, only vaguely broken by the eerie red light.  It was easy to imagine that the darkness was filled with monsters, just waiting for a chance to reach out and snatch her from her captors.  A human would never have found it a comfortable place, but the Slimes seemed happy and content in the mud.  The handful she saw as they were marched down the corridor seemed to stare at the humans almost defiantly.  It was difficult to read their expressions – their faces seemed curiously immobile compared to human faces – but they didn't seem to be happy.  It was easy to imagine how they might take the opportunity to extract a little revenge by killing both of them.

Just how large was the complex?  It was impossible to tell.  There were no recognisable markings on the walls, nothing that a human might use to navigate from place to place; the dull red light seemed to make it even harder to navigate.  It was possible that they were being pushed through the complex in a pattern intended to suggest that the complex was larger than it actually was.  But if they’d used primitive mining tools to build the complex, and installed shielded generators to power the complex, it was possible that it stretched for miles under the surface.

Archie and his family wouldn't even have a clue until it was far too late.

She shivered again as they passed through a force field and into a larger chamber.  If the Imperial Navy did arrive and scorch the planet back into submission, how many aliens would survive in the underground complexes?  It would depend on what weapons were used, but Archie’s relatives would be rather unwilling to allow the Navy to unleash a planet-cracker, something that would utterly destroy their investment.  A mild scorching, using energy weapons to wipe out the visible alien settlements, would spare the underground cities.  And who knew what would happen after that?

Fitz stepped in front of her as her eyes slowly adjusted to the gloom.  Three figures were standing in front of them, their faces hidden in the shadows.  One of them was clearly a slime, a second was human...and the third was from an alien race she didn't recognise.  He was humanoid, but the shape of his body suggested a very different evolutionary path to the human race.  His eyes glinted red in the gloom.

“This is an outrage,” Fitz said.  If Mariko hadn't know that it was an act, she would have believed it.  “How dare you arrest us like common criminals.  I demand that you take me to the nearest representative of the Imperium at once.”

The human tittered lightly.

“The Imperium has no sway here,” he said.  Every planet had a different accent, but Mariko couldn't place his.  Not Edo, definitely, nor Homeworld.  That only left a few hundred thousand human colony worlds as possible points of origin.  “You are a prisoner of the Secessionist League.”

“I know nothing about politics,” Fitz protested.  “I came to pick up Water of Life for my ship, and then we had an accident...”

“Silence,” the alien said.  He inched forward, revealing scaly skin and sharp teeth.  “You suffered no accident.  You are our prisoner.  Your survival depends upon how useful you make yourself to us.”

Fitz stared at them, as if he couldn't quite believe what they were saying.

“I could pay a ransom if you let me go,” he said.  “I won’t tell anyone about what happened today...”

“The word of an aristocrat is not to be trusted,” the slime said.  “We were promised assistance in surviving what your race did to our world.  Instead, we have merely been enslaved by your fellow aristocrats.  You will be held to account for their crimes.”

“We cannot keep him here,” the human said.  “We’ll have him shipped off-planet tonight, and then moved to a secure storage point along the Rim.  There, we can interrogate him at leisure and then ransom him back if his family is willing to pay.”

“You don’t have to inform my family,” Fitz said, hastily.  “I have access to my own accounts on my ship...”

The trio ignored him, looking instead at Mariko.  “And who, precisely, are you?”

“His retainer,” Mariko said, with icy dignity.  She’d seen enough of the higher-ranking servants of the aristocracy to know that they always kept themselves aloof from their lords and masters.  The junior ones were just desperate to please.  “I am his pilot...”

“And his whore too, no doubt,” the human muttered.  “We will allow you a chance to join us, if you wish.  However, as we cannot trust you until we have scanned your mind properly for buried conditioning, we will have to keep you under lock and key until we can confirm that you haven’t been conditioned to servitude.  I suggest you spend the time considering how best you can be useful to us.”

Mariko opened her mouth, and then stopped.  What could she say?  If Fitz had been like some of the others they’d encountered on Tuff, she would probably have been more than willing to abandon him and join the Secessionists.  But he’d treated them decently after saving their lives...and she liked him, God damn it.  And he was right; if the Secessionists managed to bring down the Imperium, there would be a colossal bloodbath.  What would happen on Greenland when the Slimes rose in revolt, turning on their masters and tormentors with blood in their eyes?

And what would happen right across the sector?  There were countless places where human and alien settlements intermingled.  The slaughter would be truly horrific on both sides.

“Take them away,” the human ordered.

“A Snake,” Fitz said.  He sounded a great deal less foppish all of a sudden.  “How can you deal with a Snake?”

The guards grabbed them and pulled them away before anyone could answer the question.  Mariko stared at Fitz, suddenly understanding the presence of the mystery alien.  She’d heard about the Snakes, but she’d never actually met one; they were very rare in the Imperium outside the Sumter Sector and its neighbouring states.  No wonder she hadn't recognised the alien until Fitz had named it.

“In,” the guards grunted, as they shoved them back into their cell.  “We will come for you.”

Mariko hesitated, and then asked a question that was bothering her.  “Can you undo our hands?  We will need to use the toilet sooner or later...”

“Go in the mud, like you make us go,” the alien burbled, and then slammed the door in a thoroughly human manner.  Outside, she could hear him speaking to his comrades, followed by the sound of alien laughter.

She turned to look over at Fitz and received a surprise; he was busy removing the tie around his wrists and pulling his hands free.  A moment later, he stepped over to her and pressed his fingers against the tie around her wrists; she felt a rush of heat.  The tie disintegrated in his hands.

“Cutting implant,” Fitz muttered, pressing his lips against her ear.  “Don’t say anything; just follow my lead.”

Mariko nodded, watching as Fitz stepped over to the door and pressed his ears against the wood for a long moment.  An instant later, he pressed one of his fingers against the lock.  There was a brief flare of blue light before the lock crumbled to dust.  Mariko had used a molecular disintegrator before, but she’d never seen one small enough to fit into a finger, let alone remain undetectable to basic scans.

But the Slimes didn't look to have bothered to scan their bodies, or else they would have known about the implants.  Perhaps their allies hadn't been entirely straight with them after all.

Fitz looked up at her, winked, and pulled the door wide open.  A pair of aliens on the other side gaped at him, just before Fitz launched himself at them with blinding speed.

They never stood a chance.

He slammed his augmented fists into their skulls, leaving them both dying on the muddy floor.  Fitz dragged the first one inside, motioned for Mariko to search the alien for anything useful, and then pulled the second guard into the cell.  Mariko took one of the rifles, examined it quickly to figure out how to fire it, and then slung it over her shoulder.  The other rifle seemed to have been bent out of shape by a blow from Fitz.  Just how strong was he if he could bend metal with his bare hands?  She unhooked the clip and pocketed it, before he motioned for her to follow him down the muddy corridor.

“They’ll have the exit heavily guarded,” he muttered, as they passed a series of darkened doorways.  There were no sign of any of the Slimes, but Mariko knew that that wouldn't last.  “These people are always suspicious of their own, with very good reason.  A single betrayal could bring down the entire organisation.”

He held up a hand as they approached a corner and then peered around it carefully, before lunging around the corner and slamming into four guards.  The Slimes were taken completely by surprise and folded rapidly, allowing them to break into the guarded room.  Mariko couldn't understand what she saw in the dim light, until Fitz found a flashlight and tossed it to her, allowing her to see properly.  It was a pile of computer equipment, mostly of human manufacture, all highly illegal in alien hands.  Some of the other equipment looked to have been designed by aliens, for aliens.  The Slimes had never invented computers for themselves, but there was no reason why a more advanced race couldn't design computers they could use easily.  No doubt one of the Secessionists had been happy to produce weapons and other systems for them.

Fitz cursed out loud as a dull subsonic began to echo through the complex.  Someone had discovered the missing guards and realised that their prisoners had escaped.  He grabbed a set of computer datachips and stuffed them in his pocket, before leading the way out of the room and back down the corridor.  The sound of feet splashing through the mud suddenly grew louder as a small army of Slimes appeared at one end of the corridor, levelling their weapons at the human pair.  Mariko lifted her rifle, pointed it down the corridor and opened fire on full automatic.  The Slimes howled in pain and rage – a disquietingly human sound – before they fell back, leaving a dozen bodies in the mud.  Fitz pulled her into a side room as the next group of guards started to push forward, jumping from doorway to doorway.  There was nothing wrong with their bravery, Mariko realised, even as she fired a shot at one of them in the hopes it would discourage his advance.

“Let’s hope they don’t have grenades,” Fitz said.  “One or two grenades hurled up here, and we’re dead.  Hold the door for a moment.”

He slipped into the room for a long moment and then returned with a bottle of cleaning solvent.  “They probably intended to use this in their IEDs,” he said, by way of explanation.  “Safe at room temperature; explosive when subjected to very high temperature.”  He tossed it down the corridor.

Seconds later, it exploded violently.  A wash of fire scorched the advancing guards, leaving them gasping for breath as the flames receded.

Mariko recoiled from the heat, realising that it would have to be much worse for an alien race to endure that was partly amphibious, like the Slimes.  Fitz grabbed her hand and rushed her down the corridor, carrying two more bottles in his hand.  He seemed to have a certain idea of where they had to go to escape, something that wasn't too surprising.  His augments would probably have recorded the entire trip since they’d been captured by the Secessionists.

“Hold this,” he snapped, passing her one of the bottles.  Mariko couldn't see how he intended to detonate it, until she realised that one of his other augments was a laser built into his little finger.  The bottle in his hands rapidly turned red with heat, then he threw it ahead of them and yanked her into a side room.

A second explosion left alien guards screaming and choking on the floor, their greenish skins scorched clear of the slime that was their lifeblood.  It had to feel horrible for them, Mariko realised, worse than a human burn.

“Run!” he yelled.

She heard the sounds of running guards in the distance as they fled up the hatch to the outside world.  There was only darkness ahead of them, but Fitz seemed to navigate it as smoothly as broad daylight.  He slowed, pushed at something above their heads, and the first twitch of daylight poured through the gap.  Mariko joined him in pushing it open and followed him into the vineyard.  A moment later, he heated up the final bottle of solvent and tossed it down the shaft.  An explosion billowed out far below.

“Halt,” a voice burbled.

Mariko cursed out loud as she realised that they had run right into an alien patrol returning from planting IEDs or making contact with other dissidents.  They were trapped, unable to run...

...And then a missile screamed from high overhead, slamming directly into the base.

Chapter Sixteen

“Get down,” Fitz snapped, knocking Mariko down into the mud.  He lay on top of her as a series of explosions sent shudders through the ground.  The Slimes seemed to be totally confused, some of them shooting up towards their unseen tormentor and the others running in all directions.  “Stay down...”

Fitz moved off her and lashed out at the remaining aliens.

They never stood a chance, Mariko realised, as she lifted her head to watch.  Fitz moved with blinding speed, so quickly he seemed to be capable of anticipating what they would do before they could even consider it.  One of their heads was torn off by a single blow, landing in the mud in front of her before she could react.  More fire poured down from high overhead, strafing parts of the plantation that seemed to be harmless.  It took Mariko a moment to realise that their unknown ally was clearing a landing site for the assault shuttle.

“Come on,” Fitz said, helping her to her feet.  His entire outfit was stained with blood, but he seemed surprisingly cheerful.  “We need to get out of here and whistle up some more help.”

She never wanted to get him angry at her. If that was what augmentation could do, she couldn't understand why it wasn't widespread.  She wanted that sort of augmentation for herself.  Even an engineered genetic superhuman couldn't have matched what Fitz had just displayed.

The assault shuttle was coming into land on a smoking patch of ground that had once been part of Lady Mary’s vineyard – and Mariko started as she recognised the ship.  It had last been seen attached to the Bruce Wayne...and that meant that it had to be Mai piloting the craft.  She turned to look accusingly at Fitz before realising that he hadn't had any choice but to call for some support from Mai.  They’d left her in orbit for that reason, after all.

Behind them, smoke and flames continued to rise from the alien base, while flames spread through what remained of the vineyard.  Mariko didn't want to think about how much money had just gone up in smoke, although she doubted that Lady Mary would dare to complain too loudly.  A full lawsuit might expose her involvement with the Secessionists.

She clambered into the shuttle, just before the ground started to shake violently.  Mai launched them into the air, barely in time to save their lives.  A thunderous explosion destroyed the remains of the rebel base – and all traces of its existence.

Fitz swore as he slammed the shuttle’s door closed.  “Damn it,” he said, angrily.  “I needed to get back in there with a proper data analysis team.”

“But you took some chips,” Mariko pointed out.  “Won’t they be useful?”

“I doubt they will provide anything that we really need,” Fitz said.  He sounded calmer once the shuttle clawed into the sky.  “The Secessionists haven't survived this long by leaving star charts around that point to their bases.  Chances were that only a couple of the people on Greenland knew how to make contact with other cells – both of them are probably dead by now, lost in the explosion.  And all the proof of the Snakes being involved with the Secessionists will have been lost as well.”

He cursed again as he led the way into the cockpit.

Mai looked up briefly at them and then returned to flying the shuttle.  “The alien base you told me about seems to have been completely destroyed,” she said.  “Lady Mary’s plantation house has also been destroyed – it went up like a baby nuke.  Someone really wanted to wreck the place.”

“Someone has succeeded,” Fitz growled, as he sat down at one of the consoles.  “Thank you for your timely support.  You saved both of our asses.”

Mai preened.

Mariko looked at Fitz.  “How did you call her?”

Fitz tapped the side of his head.  “Fold-space communicator built into my head,” he said, with a wink.  “Pretty much undetectable unless you have some really advanced sensor gear, which makes it very useful at times.  Once I realised that we would have to escape, I called Mai and ordered her to take up a position where she could provide support, if necessary.”

“And so I came,” Mai said, with a grin.  “This shuttle is really quite easy to fly.”

“It was designed for the Civil Guard,” Fitz said.  “Complexity would have been counter-productive.”  He chuckled, as one does at a joke that isn't really funny.  “Take us back to Archie’s compound.  I have to tell him what happened and warn him to take a few precautions.  It might be time to withdraw from Greenland until they can get some proper protection in place for the humans living here.”

Mariko frowned.  “Do you think he will listen?”

“I’d be astonished if he did,” Fitz said, crossly.  “But I owe it to Auntie Jo to at least try, one final time.  And I will file a report with the Imperial Navy, coded with a priority code I’m not supposed to know exists.  Maybe that will get some action, even if Archie tries to deter it.”

He shook his head as Mai took them back down towards the plantation house.  “You can get into the other shuttle at once,” he added.  “No reason to expose you to the idiots in the house, particularly not looking like that.”  Mariko looked down at herself and flushed, something that was hidden under the mud covering her face.  “Once we get back into orbit, we can clean up and then take a look at the chips.  You never know.  We might have struck gold.”

***

Fitz had promised that he wouldn't spend more than twenty minutes talking to Archie.  But it was nearly an hour before he came back out of the plantation house and over to the shuttle, his face fixed in a grimace that told the whole story.  Archie and his family had refused to listen to him, even looking like someone who had just crawled through a sewer.  He stalked into the shuttle, closed the hatch firmly behind him, and sat down on the co-pilot’s chair.

“They didn’t listen,” he said unnecessarily, as Mariko brought the shuttle’s engines online.  “Get us out of here.”

“With pleasure,” Mariko said, and triggered the engines.

The shuttle leapt into the sky, allowing her to see the plantations before they merged into a green blur far below.  How many of the aliens, she wondered, knew that part of their plan was uncovered?  Would they decide to take the chance of launching their uprising now, before the Imperial Navy could arrive or Archie’s more careful fellows could hire mercenaries to protect their investment, or would they hope that all news of the planned uprising had been lost along with their base?

“Fitz,” she ventured, “didn't that – well, what just happened – blow your cover?”

“I think not,” Fitz said.  “Everyone who knew who we were on the alien base died in the explosion, although Archie might realise that something was odd about me if he ever bothers to consider the point.”  He shook his head.  “We may need another cover in the future, but for the moment we still need the Bruce Wayne.  And she can't be explained without having someone like me along.”

Mariko nodded as the shuttle passed through the last wisps of atmosphere and headed out into space.  From high overhead, Greenland looked almost beautiful, as if the terraforming operatives had created a paradise.  There was no sign of the atrocity they’d committed – the first of many – to make the world habitable.  A few million Slimes compared to the uncounted trillions of humans within the Imperium...no wonder the Imperium hadn't cared, when it had discovered what had happened to the natives.  But she had a feeling that the boot would have seemed different if on the other foot.

“There are a dozen freighters in orbit,” she said, sourly.  “How many of them belong to the Secessionists?”

“We’ll compare them against the OTC records from Tuff,” Fitz said.  He smiled in a mildly reproving manner.  “You ought to know that every ship has a unique drive signature.”

Mariko nodded again as they matched orbits with the Bruce Wayne and docked with the luxury craft.  Mai had already docked her shuttle and taken control of the ship’s drives, ready to throw it away from the planet and into phase space if necessary.  Fitz tapped his wristcom as the hatches mated and he stepped into his ship, opening up a channel to the bridge.

“Take us on a leisurely course to Karats,” he ordered.  Mariko lifted an eyebrow.  Karats was only a day or so from Greenland, but it wasn't particularly special.  “No need to push the drives too much, I think; give us an ETA of three days.”

“Understood, Milord,” Mai said.

She was less keen on being informal with Fitz, even though she still had a crush on him.  Mariko hoped that she’d get over it sooner or later.

But Mai had gone on.  “Should I file a plan with the planet’s OTC?”

“Don’t bother,” Fitz said.  That was technically illegal, but Greenland’s OTC was a makeshift business at best.  “If they demand a flight plan before we enter phase space, tell them that we intend to visit Sumter.  They can draw their own conclusions from that.”

“There’s a wormhole station at Karats,” Mariko said, slowly.

“Very good,” Fitz agreed.  “We go to Karats – and then we can be at Sumter within seconds.”

“But shouldn't we be going faster?”  Mariko asked.  “If you want to alert the Imperial Navy...”

“I don’t think it will matter,” Fitz said, savagely.  “Archie has too much pull with the Sector Governor.  Useful fucking idiot.”

He shrugged.  “Go clean up,” he said, changing the subject.

Mariko caught a whiff of how she smelled and winced.

“I’ll see you both for dinner this evening,” he said with a smile.

Mariko had been tempted to ask if he wanted to share another shower, but he headed for his own suite before she could find the words to ask him.  It felt odd to feel so...horny after barely escaping certain death; was it natural, or was something wrong with her?  And she’d killed, she reminded herself as she stumbled down the corridor to their cabin, peeled off her clothes and climbed into the shower.  A dozen Slimes had died when she’d opened fire on them – and more had died when Mai convinced them that the only choice left was to blow up their entire base.

She slumped in the shower as hot water poured over her, washing away the mud and grime from their adventure.  The Slimes had done nothing to deserve the destruction of their entire existence, let alone the near-genocide forced upon them by their human masters.  They’d only been guilty of trying to fight back against an attack of such scale that resistance was futile.  What did it matter if they killed a few dozen humans when their world was turning rapidly poisonous to them?

Perhaps that was why Fitz had decided not to hurry to Karats – or Sumter.  Perhaps the revolution would take place and Archie and his family would be summarily executed by the Slimes as they retook their world.  By the time the Imperial Navy arrived, there would be no humans left to save.  It seemed cold-hearted, even ruthless, but she’d seen enough of the contempt Fitz held for most of his fellow aristocrats...and she’d seen enough to them to know that that contempt was fully justified.  She wiped water over her breasts, watching the mud falling from her body and vanishing into the ship’s water purification system, and then started to shake.  They’d come far too close to death.

Fitz thinks that he can make a difference, she thought.  But what if he’s wrong?

Greenland was hardly the worst place in the Imperium, nor was it the only planet that had seen its indigenous life form pushed to the brink of extinction by human settlers.  And there were hundreds of thousands of millions of aliens labouring away in the Imperium for their human masters.

The Imperium was steadily decaying – Fitz had said as much and Mariko suspected that he was right – but what would happen when it fell?  Could the chaos following the collapse of imperial order be truly worse than that order?

Shaking her head, she used a sonic sweep to flick the water off her body before she stepped out of the shower and into her cabin.  At least she’d had the foresight to buy a nightgown that covered everything as well as the sexy nightwear Mai had thought they might need for their new master.  It was funny how she would almost have preferred being a courtesan to being an assistant secret agent, even if being a secret agent was much more interesting that doing little more than showing off her body for Fitz.  Out of habit – Fitz had drummed it into them time and time again – she picked up one of the pistols he’d given them and dropped it into her pocket before leaving the cabin.

Mai, according to the ship’s computer, was still minding the bridge.  Military ships manned the bridge at all times, as did the larger civilian vessels, but there was little point on the Bruce Wayne.  The only thing that could touch them in Phase Space was an artificial gravity well and if that happened, there would be no warning until they actually slammed right into it.  But Mai took her duties seriously – and besides, she’d discovered the engineering texts loaded into the ship’s computers.  They included data on systems that the Imperium considers highly classified, including wormhole generators.  Fitz’s only comment had been to warn Mai not to share her knowledge too widely.

Bracing herself, she touched the chime on Fitz’s door and was surprised when it hissed open at once.  Fitz was seated at his desk, studying a star chart that showed the Sumter Sector and its surrounding territory.  Beyond the Rim, beyond the stars officially controlled by humanity, eighty stars glowed bright red.  The Snake Empire was tiny compared to the Imperium – and if it came down to a straight fight the Imperium would steamroll them into the ground, blasting their worlds to radioactive dust – but it was formidable enough to make conquering it a difficult proposition.  It had been hundreds of years since the human race had encountered another multisystem polity and overrun it, assimilating their developed worlds into the Imperium.  The old lust for conquest and unity no longer existed.

“The Snakes have a vested interest in keeping the Sumter Sector destabilised,” Fitz said, by way of explanation.  “And rumour has it that they have been backing the Secessionists with whatever they want, as long as it can’t be traced back to them.  The Snake we met on Greenland does tend to support that rumour.”

Mariko nodded.  The Snakes had been lucky.  Some three hundred years before the wavefront of human expansion would have washed across their homeworld, a group of human renegades had given them access to technology they wouldn't even have been able to dream about before they met the human race.  Within fifty years, they’d united their homeworld and created a number of colonies, occupying a number of worlds with their own intelligent races as well as worlds they could settle without opposition.  By the time they met the Imperium formally, they had a fleet that could protect them against anything short of a full Imperial Navy Task Force.  And in the political paralysis gripping Homeworld, it was unlikely that the Imperial Navy would ever be permitted to gather the force necessary to crush the Snakes...

But that would change if there was clear evidence that the Snakes had been aiding the Imperium’s enemies.

“They have to be mad,” she said, finally.  “What does supporting the Secessionists get them?”

“A distracted Imperium,” Fitz said.  “There’s a great deal we don’t know about the Snakes – starting with the exact size of their Navy.  What if they plan to wait another few hundred years and then invade?  They could put together a fleet that would be a match for the entire Imperial Navy if they were prepared to spend hundreds of years working on it.  It isn't as if we’ve been building capital ships for the last few hundred years ourselves.  What new production we’ve been focusing on is small ships to protect our shipping.”

Mariko could see the problem.  The Imperium was so large that it was difficult to imagine an enemy that could actually hope to win a war of attrition against the human race.  It was possible that the Snakes might be able to take the Sumter sector and its neighbours, but the invasion would unite the human race against them.  The Imperium would be able to bring overwhelming firepower to bear against the Snakes...

...Except that seventy percent of the Imperium’s industrial base was manned by aliens, aliens who might welcome the Snakes as liberators.  The Imperium was huge, but could it survive uprisings on every major industrial node and countless other worlds besides?  And what of the aliens serving in the Imperial Navy?  Would they turn on their human comrades?

“Dear God,” she said.  The carnage would be appalling, far worse than civil unrest or even a civil war.  “But why would the Secessionists go along with them?”

“'He who pays the piper calls the tune',” Fitz quoted.  It had been a favourite saying of her father as well.  “And besides, what if the Snakes offered human worlds autonomy or independence – and protection from aliens who might want a little revenge?  Some of the Secessionists have always proclaimed human and alien equality.  Why should they not work with the Snakes?”

He shook his head.  “But the Snakes have always resented us. They might turn on their allies once the war is over.”

Mariko closed her eyes, in pain.  “I wanted to ask you something,” she said, as she sat down.  “Is it...normal for me to feel shock over killing people?”

Chapter Seventeen

Fitz did her the honour of considering the question seriously.

“I felt the same way after I first killed someone,” he said, finally.  “He was trying to kill me at the time, but I still felt dreadful when I realised what I had done.”

Mariko looked at him.  “How did you cope with it?”

“I had to keep reminding myself that if I hadn't killed him, he would have killed me,” Fitz admitted.  “And the Slimes you killed down on the planet would have killed you without a second thought.”

“Because their world is dying,” Mariko said.  “Isn't there anything you can do for them?”

“I wish there was,” Fitz said.  He looked down at the deck for a long moment.  “It’s possible that the Slimes will revolt and that someone will decide that Archie and his friends have been poor stewards who should no longer remain in control of the planet.  Provoking an alien uprising is a serious offense...a few words in the right ear, and they might lose control of the planet.”

“You intend to suggest that,” Mariko said.

Fitz nodded.  “But it may not work.  Far too many people enjoy drinking Water of Life, or have money invested in its production and distribution.  But I could also invest in space habitats which provide proper farmland without destroying an entire planet’s biosphere.  Given a few hundred years, Archie will be ruined, and perhaps the terraforming of Greenland can be reversed.”

He shrugged.

“Who knows?  Maybe the Secessionists would even give us some good press after we save the Slimes from extinction.”

“After pushing them to the brink in the first place,” Mariko said.  She hesitated, and then plunged on ahead.  “Thank you for saving my life.”

“After endangering it in the first place,” Fitz observed, dryly.  “I didn’t anticipate an IED – and I should have.  Auntie Jo clearly didn't even know the half of what was happening on Greenland.  And you owe Mai some thanks, too; if she hadn't come down with the shuttle, we would both have died on the planet’s surface.”

“I know,” Mariko said.  She looked at him, feeling an odd mixture of twisted emotions.  Part of her wanted to grab him and kiss him, even though she was technically his employee.  And part of her thought that she couldn't afford a relationship with him.  “Fitz...thank you for saving my life.”

She leaned forward and planted a kiss on his mouth.  For a moment, he kissed her back...and then broke contact.

“I know how you’re feeling,” he said, softly.  He looked almost boyish in the light, slightly embarrassed.  “You survived – and you want to celebrate.  Ask me again after we have broken the Secessionists and prevented them from launching their planned uprising.”

Mariko blushed, so brightly that her face felt as if it had caught fire.

“Are you always so...unemotional?”

“You should see me when I am trying to relax,” Fitz said.  “I just think that we would be better off avoiding emotional entanglements until after the mission is completed.”  He picked up one of the captured datachips and looked at it, pretending to ignore her embarrassment.  “I need to crack the protection on this baby and the others.  I don’t suppose you know anything about hacking datachips?”

“Nothing,” Mariko said, tightly.  She felt too embarrassed to even look at him – and to think she’d managed to seduce someone at his command!  “Mai’s the engineer, but I don’t think she knows much about computer hacking.  I thought that hackers were executed when they were caught.”

“Apart from the ones who go to work for Imperial Intelligence,” Fitz said.  “A computer hacker or two can be very helpful for the spooks.  But right now all I have to depend upon are my own little skills.”

“Good luck,” Mariko said.

Fitz reached out and took her hand.  “It’s nothing to be ashamed of,” he said, seriously.  “I felt the same way after my first mission.”

Mariko scowled.

“And what did you do about it?”

“After I got home, I found a partner and partied for several days,” Fitz said.  “And then I went off on another troubleshooting mission.  Get some rest, Mariko, and I will see you at dinner.”

Mariko smiled, despite herself.  “Shouldn't you get some rest, too?”

“Rebellion never rests,” Fitz said.  “I have to know what’s on these chips before we can decide what to do next.”

***

Dinner was an oddly surreal affair.  Mai chatted happily about flying the shuttle to the rebel base and launching missiles at it, completely ignoring the threat of hidden antiaircraft missile launchers that could have taken out the shuttle before she could react.  Fitz seemed to listen politely, although his mind was clearly somewhere else; Mariko found it difficult to concentrate, despite taking several hours to sleep off the last remnants of their brief imprisonment and escape.

The food tasted as good as ever, yet it was dry in her mouth.  Every time she took a bite, she remembered what was happening to the Slimes and felt sick.  Fitz’s long-term plan to save their planet’s biosphere wouldn't work in time to save most of them from death, fighting an enemy they could neither comprehend nor match.

“I went through the chips,” Fitz said, once Mariko had cleared away the plates and dropped the remaining food in the recycler.

The thought of recycled food – which included every other form of organic waste on a starship - made groundhogs feel sick, but she knew there might come a time when they were glad to have it.  Crews had lost their drives and had been forced to limp back to the nearest star system, eating recycled food all the time.  On Happy Wanderer, they had sometimes been so short of cash that they’d had to eat recycled foodstuffs until they picked up their next charter.

“What was on them?” Mariko asked, interested despite herself.

“A couple of them are seemingly ruined,” Fitz told them. “I’ll have to hand them over to Imperial Intelligence researchers on Sumter to see if they can pull anything out of the damage.”

“It takes a great deal of punishment to ruin a datachip,” Mai pointed out with a  frown.  “They might have simply rigged them up to look ruined.”

“It’s a possibility, but the equipment I have onboard is not good enough to pick out and scan a handful of microscopic good sectors from the damaged parts of the chip,” Fitz admitted.  “Contacting the people on Sumter is a risk, yet it may be the only way to find out what’s on the chips.”

“You don’t want to talk to your friends in Imperial Intelligence?”  Mariko asked, dryly.  “Won’t they know you?”

“They shouldn't know me,” Fitz said, flatly.  “If I was the Rebel, plotting an uprising in the Sumter Sector, the first thing I’d do is try to compromise the Imperial Intelligence assets in this sector.  The whole idea of my role as a trouble-shooter is that I can visit places without alerting the local intelligence staffers.  I do have the ID to approach them, but they might talk amongst themselves and word might get back to the Secessionists.”

He grinned.  “But we may have had a stroke of luck to make up for the disaster on Greenland,” he added.  “One of the chips contained blackmail information.”

Fitz stood up, picked up a remote control and keyed a switch.  A picture appeared on the wall-mounted display, showing a human man making love to a green-skinned woman.

Mai gasped out loud, while Mariko stared in disbelief.  The second picture was of the same man, naked beside a spidery creature that seemed to be pawing at him.

“There are five hundred of these pictures, all with the same human male,” Fitz said, professionally.  If he was bothered by the content, he didn't show it.  “I cut his face out and ran it through the computer records, comparing him to everyone working for the Imperium in the sector.”  He chuckled, rather unpleasantly.  “All that insistence on writing reports in triplicate may just have paid off.  Meet Data-Entry Clerk Gavin Richardson, a low-level operative in Sumter’s bureaucracy and the star of three pornographic movies, all of which would be on the banned list if they were ever uploaded onto the Imperial Net.”

Mariko stared at the last picture, profoundly shocked.  Interspecies sex wasn't exactly banned in the Imperium – with trillions of humans, it was likely that millions would be tempted to cross the species line – but it was heavily frowned upon.  Anyone exposed as an interracial fornicator was likely to feel the full weight of society’s disapproval, even if they hadn't committed any actual crime.  It wasn’t as if interracial sex could produce children, although someone like Tuff could presumably create a human-alien hybrid if that wasn't specifically banned by Imperial Law.

“I think that Richardson got into trouble in one of the multiracial brothels on Sumter,” Fitz said, quietly.  “He would have been filmed in a variety of compromising positions and then offered a choice between working for the Secessionists or being exposed to his superiors.  Even if his superior was a liberal-minded man, he would still have had to move Richardson somewhere harmless at the very least; someone who had been compromised so badly would be vulnerable to all kinds of pressure.  It looks to me as if Richardson preferred to work for the Secessionists than admit to his nightly activities.”

He shook his head.  “It’s an old trick. You find someone a prostitute, film him from all angles and then threaten to expose him if he refuses to play ball.  Sometimes it fails – I heard of a case where the victim laughed in their faces and thanked them for the holiday snaps – but mostly it works.  Anyone going to an interracial brothel probably has needs that can’t be met by purely human girls.”

Mariko grimaced at the thought.  She knew how humans mated with other humans, but with aliens...?  The very thought was repulsive.  How could anyone even match up the sexual organs between a human and someone from a humanoid race, let alone someone from a race that was utterly inhuman?  Weren’t there races where the female killed the male after mating?  Would that be murder, part of her mind wondered, or merely a crime of passion?  Or would it be buried by the authorities, who wouldn't want to admit that interspecies sex existed on such a scale?

“All right,” Mai said.  She seemed to have recovered quicker from looking at the pictures than Mariko.  “So they have a lowly clerk who's been blackmailed into following orders.  Just how much damage can he do?”

“According to the records, which were complete as of six months ago, Richardson works in both the starship tracking department and the personnel department,” Fitz said.  “That isn't uncommon on worlds out along the Rim, even the Sector Capital.  They can’t trust any alien with that position and trained humans from the Core Worlds don’t really want to migrate out here.  In that position, with the right access codes, he could cause a hell of a lot of damage.  Perhaps there’s someone the Secessionists want to recruit in the local Imperial Navy squadron.  They could get Richardson to copy his file so they could scan it for weaknesses they could use against him.  And then they can arrange for the files to claim that that officer died in a shuttle accident, hiding the fact that he was recruited by the Secessionists.  Any investigator looking for him would be misdirected, convinced that he was already dead.”

Fitz paced the compartment, snapping out points one by one.

“You could do anything if you subverted the right people in the right department,” he added.  “All of a sudden, we don’t dare trust records that might have been fiddled with by Richardson.  At the very least, we would have to check them all thoroughly – and that would do wonders for our morale, I'm sure!”

Mariko understood.  The regulations covering the ownership and operation of freighters demanded that owners fill out endless forms before they could be given a licence to operate in the Imperium.  It would be even worse for military starships.  A sudden demand for all the paperwork to be resubmitted would not go down well with starship commanders, who would prefer to spend their time commanding their ships rather than filling in the damned paperwork.

Fitz was right.  Morale would go right down the tubes.

“So we know how they’ve been fiddling the records,” Mai said.  “Do you think that Richardson might have been quietly removing the warnings about the growing crisis on Greenland?”

“I wouldn't have thought that he had the access,” Fitz said, after a moment.  “And then there’s the minor detail that Auntie Jo has been sounding the alarm for years.  If she happened to get an interview with the Sector Admiral and demanded to know what had happened to her previous messages...well, blatant tampering would definitely expose Richardson to Imperial Intelligence.  I think they’d prefer to leave him in place, quietly cooking the books and passing on any intelligence that walked across his desk.”

He made a face.

“But we have to deal with him directly,” he said, finally.  “We cannot risk bringing the rest of Imperial Intelligence in on this.”

“Because they might be compromised,” Mariko said.  She rolled her eyes.  “I thought Imperial Intelligence was supposed to be incorruptible, never resting in its pursuit of the Imperium’s enemies.”

“That damned The Man From The Double-Eye entertainment series has a lot to answer for,” Fitz muttered.  “Imperial Intelligence spends more time promoting itself to the public rather than actually developing sources in alien empires and positioning assets in threatened sectors.”

“It can't be easy to get aliens willing to help the Imperium,” Mariko said, remembering what had happened to Greenland.  Perhaps the reason Archie was so unconcerned was because he had Slimes whispering in his ear, telling him how grateful they were for the destruction of their world and the enslavement of their entire race.  “How many assets do they have in the Snake Empire?”

“I wouldn't know,” Fitz said.  “They’re not supposed to tell me anything I don’t need to know.”

Mariko knew him well enough by now to know what he wasn't saying.  It was quite possible that there were no assets in the Snake Empire, or that what assets there were consisted of Snakes who were actually working for their own people, whispering soothing lies into Imperial Intelligence’s ears.  Besides, the Snakes were several dozen light years from the Imperium’s borders.  Someone with an eye on the budget might point out that they were less immediately threatening than the countless rebel groups within the Imperium itself.

“I’m going to have to send a report from Sumter to my superiors,” he added.  “If we’re lucky, we might convince them to send some support – and perhaps a team from the IG to turn Admiral Von Rutherford’s fiefdom upside down.  Maybe that would force the Secessionists to pull in their horns long enough to give us a chance to build new defences.”

“You don’t sound confident,” Mai noted.

“I’m not,” Fitz admitted.  “Homeworld has too many other problems to worry about the Rim right now.  Too many people crying wolf for the Grand Senate’s peace of mind.”

Mariko tapped the table.  “So we find him and then...what?”

“We want to turn him into a source for us, ideally,” Fitz said.  “We need to know what he’s done for the Secessionists and what standing orders they’ve given him, if any.  There will be at least one Secessionist agent on Sumter, probably unconnected with the public face of the Secessionist League, who will be collecting his reports and passing them on to higher authority.  We have to find that person and use him to lead us onwards to his superiors.  Chances are there will probably be a cut-out or two along the way.  The Secessionists haven’t survived this long by being stupid.

“Failing that, we kill him and make it look like an accident.”

Mariko stared at him, seeing the ruthlessness hiding behind his pleasant face.  The Imperium would try Richardson and probably execute him for espionage, but that was a far cry from killing him themselves.  She opened her mouth to protest and then realised that there was no point.  Fitz was right; they couldn't leave Richardson in place, not when he was betraying the entire Imperium to the Secessionists – and through them, the Snakes.  And yet it felt badly wrong to murder someone in cold blood, no matter how justified.

“I’ll go through the remaining chips and see if there’s anything useful they can tell us,” Fitz continued, seemingly unaware of her inner thoughts.  “Convicting Richardson will be easy; convicting Lady Mary will be a great deal harder.  She may have been exiled, but the rest of the aristocracy will close ranks behind her unless the evidence is damning.  The last thing they want is to give the commoners a chance to see their betters dying – it might give them ideas.”

He looked over at Mai.  “Bring us out of Phase Space on the edge of the Karats System,” he ordered.  “We have some work to do before we reach the wormhole and slip into Sumter.  I think it's time that Lord Fitzgerald was put to one side.”

Mariko blinked in surprise.  “You don’t intend to announce yourself when you reach Sumter?”

“The Admiral is something of a social climber,” Fitz said, with palpable annoyance.  “If I go in openly as Lord Fitzgerald, he will demand that I stay at the official residence, attend various parties and generally brighten up his dining table.  It will make it difficult to snatch Richardson without attracting attention from the official Imperial Intelligence operatives on Sumter.”

He grinned.  “And besides, the Bruce Wayne has been seen too much recently,” he added.  “It’s time for a change.  And this ship is truly remarkable when it comes to changing its identity.”

Mariko frowned.

“But she’s a very recognisable space yacht,” she pointed out.

“Wait and see,” Fitz assured her.  “Just wait and see.”

Chapter Eighteen

Karats was a fairly normal system, illuminated by an average G2 star.  From the reports that Mariko had read, the original survey team had found nothing of great interest, apart from a habitable world and a gas giant for mining.  There was no native intelligent race, which meant that the development corporation hadn't had to commit any atrocities to make the world suitable for human life.  At the last census, conducted five years ago, Karats was home to over twenty thousand humans, mainly farmers and asteroid miners from the Core Worlds.  It was rated as a nice, quiet place to live.

Edo had been founded in an attempt to preserve what the founders could of traditional Japanese culture, although Mariko suspected that the culture they practiced had mutated considerably over the thousands of years since humanity had spread across the stars.  Karats was much less dogmatic about who they allowed to settle, but then a new world wouldn't be in a good position to object to almost anyone.  The only settlement bar was on Indents and aliens.  Karat was a human world, and would remain so.

Shaking her head, she turned the spacesuit around and looked at the Bruce Wayne.  This far from the system primary, she was only illuminated by her running lights, which revealed a very strange sight indeed.  Some of the luxury flashes on her hull – stubby wings and ‘go-faster’ stripes – were receding into the metal, while the colour was changing into the black and red lines of Interstellar Couriers.  In hindsight, Mariko hadn't been too surprised to discover that there was a link between Imperial Intelligence and Interstellar Couriers, which had a reputation as the fastest shipping line in the Imperium.  Interstellar Couriers could send a ship anywhere and no one would look any further than the cover story.  Fitz had produced paperwork for his ship which he swore blind was real, if not something he had intended to use openly.  The IFF had already been reprogrammed to claim that the ship was actually the Wally West, a fast courier.  Anyone who looked inside the ship would know that she wasn't a courier, but the paperwork should prevent anyone from growing too curious.  Interstellar Couriers had a very close relationship with the Grand Senate, and no one wanted to provoke them too far.  Entire worlds had been embargoed for meddling with Interstellar Couriers in the past.

Her radio crackled in her ear.  “How does it look?”

“Remarkable,” Mariko admitted.  She’d volunteered to go outside the ship to watch with the naked eye as the ship underwent its transformation.  Programmable hull metal and paint – and nanotech worked into the hull – was good, but it had its limitations.  “She looks perfect enough to fool me.”

“Swing around the hull and check everywhere,” Fitz ordered.

He seemed amused and Mariko knew why.  She’d expressed her doubts too loudly.

“And then come back inside.  We have an operation to plan.”

Mariko muttered an acknowledgement and keyed the console on her suit’s arm.  Some people could never bear to walk in space – they were convinced that they were falling, even though they weren’t – but she loved it.  The sense of freedom, of flying through the universe all on her own, was remarkable, only made stronger by the absolute silence of space.  All around her, stars burned in the darkness, without the twinkling that groundhogs took for granted.  No wonder that the Cyborgs of Calculus had attracted so many volunteers before they’d turned into a nightmare of flesh fused with metal.  They could walk in space without even needing a spacesuit.

There were a handful of new blisters she hadn't seen before, hidden in the ship’s hull until they were necessary.  One of the other reasons why no one messed with Interstellar Couriers was that their ships were always armed to the teeth.  Bruce Wayne had hidden her weapons under the programmable hull; Wally West proudly displayed them to the universe.  A real warship could have destroyed her, of course, but she would have had to catch the courier boat first.

“Everything seems to be fine,” she said, finally.  “Do you want to check, too?”

“I will later,” Fitz assured her.  “Come on back inside.  We have work to do.”

Mariko obeyed, steering the suit towards the airlock and dropping neatly into it as the ship’s artificial gravity field reasserted itself.  The first time she’d re-entered a ship, she’d landed in a rather undignified manner, coming right down on her ass.  Now she was almost a professional at EVA, even though it was something she just hadn't been able to do enough for her satisfaction.  The Happy Wanderer had kept them too busy as they moved from world to world.

She sealed the airlock behind her, stepped into the middle chamber and began the task of removing the spacesuit.  At least she’d been able to wear her normal clothes under the suit’s protective coverings, unlike the suits they’d used for training back on Edo.  The instructors had claimed that it was a taste of what early spaceflight had been like, but the cadets had universally agreed that it was just another form of torture for prospective pilots.  Mai had taken to it like a duck to water, although she had later admitted that she didn't like EVA very much.  Mariko had been happy to take all of the EVA burden upon herself.

Leaving the suit behind, she walked through the ship’s corridors until she reached the dining room.  Fitz was sitting at a table, working on a pair of ID cards.  He grinned up at her as she entered, waving for her to take a seat on the sofa besides Mai.  Mariko flushed, unaccountably convinced that they had been talking about her, and then blinked in surprise as Fitz tossed one of the ID cards to her.  It landed in her lap and she picked it up thoughtfully, studying it carefully.  The top legend ran IMPERIAL INTELLIGENCE and identified her as a senior intelligence officer, with a line of code numbers that could have meant anything.  There was no name, only a picture that made her look as if she’d been dead for a year and dug up just long enough for the picture to be taken.    It made her look cruel and heartless, she decided.

Fitz chuckled when she said it out loud.

“Imperial Intelligence Investigators are meant to be cruel and heartless,” he said.  “E Branch – never mind about the others right now – is specifically charged with watching for disloyalty, espionage, corruption and other naughtiness among the Imperium’s personnel.  It has close ties with the Inspectorate General, which has the same basic mission, but unlike the IG it attempts to turn enemy agents rather than just eliminate them.  By the time we reach Sumter, you are going to be word perfect on these details.  They might save your life.”

Mariko stared at him.  “But will these cards pass if someone checks them?”

Fitz’s grin widened.  “Anyone who checks them will get a coded response confirming your authority – which, just incidentally, isn't limited to just forcing people to answer your questions.  You can commandeer entire starships if you want, or get the support of everyone from the Marines to the Civil Guard.  And you could even draw on the vast funds available to Imperial Intelligence and buy an entire planet if you wanted it.”

“But we don’t work for Imperial Intelligence,” Mariko protested.  She was stunned.  She had known that Imperial Intelligence enjoyed powers beyond almost anyone else, but this was too much.  “Surely someone would question us...”

Fitz assumed a contemplative pose.

“You know, a court ruled five years ago that a forgery made by Imperial Intelligence counted as the real thing,” he said.  “But those cards aren't really forgeries.  They were originally produced on Homeworld; all I did was add a few details, a couple of really bad pictures and update the records accordingly.  My superiors will confirm that the cards are real if anyone pushes the question up that high, which isn't likely.  The cards will pass a basic check; after that, most people will be too scared to ask any more questions.”

He shrugged as he passed Mai her card.  “But don’t abuse it too much, or my superiors will ask very sharp questions the next time I return to Homeworld,” he added.  “Ideally, we won’t be using them at all until we confront Richardson himself; the cards will establish our bona fides and convince him that we have the authority to decide if he gets turned into a valuable source, and therefore becomes a hero, or if he gets thrown to the dogs.”

“Right,” Mariko said, slowly.  She was still nervous over that prospect.  “And how do we approach him?”

“We get his address details out of the system computers first, then we decide how best to approach,” Fitz said.  “I’d bet good money that he lives alone, probably in one of the vast apartment blocks they construct for lower-ranking civil servants.  But we’ll just have to wait and see.”

He produced a second set of cards and passed them over to Mariko.  “These are the Interstellar Couriers' ID cards,” he added.  “As we won’t actually be docking with any of the orbital stations, we won’t need to worry about them searching the ship, but they may insist on searching us when we land.  Keep the Imperial Intelligence cards out of sight unless they push too far, in which case feel free to tell them that they are interfering in an intelligence operation and the best thing they can do is let us through as quickly as possible.  But I’d prefer to avoid that.”

“Because they would talk,” Mariko said.

“They’d talk, even if we told them to keep their mouths tightly shut,” Fitz confirmed.  “And sooner or later the word would reach the Imperial Intelligence officers on Sumter.  They’d probably make a fuss to their superiors about being kept in the dark...and if one of them is working for the Secessionists, they’d warn their friends to duck and cover.  We’d lose our chance to track them before we actually realised that we had a chance.

“We’ll get a good night’s sleep here, and then we will proceed to the wormhole,” he added.  “Once we’re done on Sumter, we may not have time to sleep properly – and walls have ears, anyway.”

Mai looked up at him.  “Are you going to leave me on the ship again?”

“I don’t think so,” Fitz said, with a grin.  “There’s too much firepower in orbit around Sumter for us to risk using the assault shuttle again.  The Imperial Navy ships on duty would fire first and ask questions afterwards.  You can come down to the surface with us, and then...I think Mariko will take the lead on confronting Richardson.  I’ll be her bodyguard and assistant.”

Mariko looked at him.  “But I don’t know anything about confronting a spy...”

“That's what we’re going to practice in the holochamber,” Fitz said.  “Simulations are never perfect, but they will give us a chance to train you in the basics.  I’d do it, but male spies seem to respond better to females than males.  Perhaps they think that females are a softer touch.”

Mai chuckled.  “They don’t know much about women, do they?”

Fitz shrugged.  “This guy has been putting his penis in alien bodies,” he said, sourly.  “I don’t think he knows much about human women at all.

“It isn't unknown for someone with considerable achievements to his name to be shy around women, or to curse the men who somehow find it easy to convince women to open their legs for them,” he added.  “These people are social outcasts; bright enough to make their own way in society, but not capable of making connections with their fellow humans.  Some of them are bullied and treated like shit by their fellows as they grow older.  They seethe with resentments that they can never vent into the open air, or lack the confidence to approach women when they become older and more mature.

“And then someone spots their weakness, and uses it to seduce them into becoming traitors.  It’s a very common pattern, one dating all the way back to the origin of humanity.  Sometimes they turn completely, devoting themselves to the side that seems to recognise their true value; sometimes they are pushed into treason and then blackmailed into going further, until it is too late to seek help from their own people.”

He gave them a long, level look.  “Richardson could be anything from a willing traitor to blackmail victim.  We need to discover his story so we can manipulate him for ourselves.”

Mariko frowned.  “And what will we do with him if he cooperates?”

“It depends,” Fitz said.  “I’d like to leave him in place, reporting to us.  If he cooperates and is then exposed, I can probably arrange something for him that will give him a new chance at life.  But if he refuses...”

“Things could get nasty,” Mariko said, quietly.

“Don’t waste your sympathy,” Fitz advised.  “Richardson may be responsible for thousands of deaths – and millions more if the Secessionists launch their uprising and the Imperial Navy responds with brute force.  Outright traitor or blackmail victim – he isn't going to get out of this without a great deal of suffering.”

***

Five hours later, Mariko staggered out of the holochamber, feeling tired and utterly overloaded with information.  Fitz was a hard taskmaster when it came to preparing for operations – “Prior Planning and Preparation Prevents Piss-Poor Performance,” he’d said – and they’d run the entire simulation countless times.  The simulated traitor had given one response, then another...and they’d followed them all carefully.  At least one of them had ended with the traitor drawing a knife and stabbing it into her chest, something that had sent phantom pains scurrying all over her body.  The simulation was so real that it was hard to escape the belief that she had actually been stabbed in real life.

“That’s a persistent problem,” Fitz admitted, as the simulation vanished around them, to be replaced by grey bulkheads and a single projector built into the roof.  “Holographic addiction is becoming a major problem in the Core Worlds – and VR addiction is even worse.  Do you know that you can experience any kind of sex you like without actually finding a partner and seducing them?”

“Because someone else recorded their experience and it gets played into your head,” Mariko said.  She’d heard about the technology, although it was rare on strict, traditionalist Edo.  “Do people manage to break the addiction?”

“Not easily,” Fitz said.  “Given the right life support, a person can exist in a VR fantasy for years without ever returning to the mundane world.  Worlds where they are masters of all; worlds where they are gods; worlds where they can experience anything they like without fear of social disdain...it’s incredibly tempting to pretty much anyone.  I know a hundred young aristocrats who dived into VR worlds and never looked back.  Why experience the Imperium, with all its problems and moral compromises, when you can enjoy a perfect world?”

“You make it sound so attractive,” Mariko said.  “Can't the technology be abused?”

“Of course it can,” Fitz said.  “It’s astonishing how easy it can be used for interrogation, or blackmail, or all kinds of other unpleasant tricks.  I heard a rumour that it was once used to warp a fine, morally upstanding man into a complete monster.  And what happens when most of our population chooses to retreat into a fantasy world?”

Mariko winced at the thought.

“The Imperium falls apart,” she said.  “There won’t be enough humans keeping the system going.”

“And then the Snakes and a dozen other powers try to muscle in on our territory,” Fitz said.  “My father was part of a consensus that wanted to ban holographic and VR technologies completely, at least for civilian use.  They put it before the Grand Senate, hoping that enough Grand Senators could be swayed to issue the ban.  But there was too much money in the business for them to make much headway.  They even had the gall to claim that VR technology prevented people from becoming addicted to drugs, as if that was a major problem after they discovered how to directly simulate the pleasure centres in the brain.”

Mariko looked up at him.  “Does it ever end?” she asked.  “I mean...is there no end to the problems facing the Imperium?”

“I think that each solution we find creates its own problems,” Fitz said.  “And all we can really do is run around patching up the leaks, try to let some of the pressure blow out gently and hope that we can buy enough time to produce a permanent solution.  But everything we do runs into a wave of opposition from the factions who profit from the current chaos.  Did you hear about the Alien Homeworld Bill?”

Mariko shook her head.

“It was proposed ten years ago,” he said.  “It would have banned settlement on worlds that had given birth to intelligent life, even granted the aliens autonomy on their own homeworlds.  The reformers hoped that it would give the aliens a greater stake in the Imperium.  But the bill never even reached the Senate.  Too many enemies meant that it could be killed before it was put before the elected representatives, let alone the Childe Roland.  And so we lost another chance to reform the Imperium.”

He touched her shoulder lightly.  “Go get some sleep,” he ordered.

Mariko nodded.  Practicing for the mission had taken a great deal out of her.  Mai had spent the time brushing up on the procedures for wormhole transit, lucky her.

“Tomorrow,” he said ominously, “we may have no time for sleep.”

Chapter Nineteen

“Secure for wormhole transit,” Mariko ordered.  “Transmit our IFF to Karats OTC and request a slot for transit.”

Mai tapped her console.  “IFF sent.”

Of course, Mariko knew. it would be several seconds before Karats responded, even though the OTC station was established right next to the wormhole.

“All stations report secure for wormhole transit,” Mai said, rather unnecessarily.

Mariko smiled.  A starship with a large crew would have had live officers to check that the ship was secure, but Bruce Wayne had only the most advanced automated systems in the galaxy.  Securing for wormhole transit wasn't difficult, luckily.  The only real danger was a gravimetric flux that would toss around anything that hadn't been fixed to the bulkheads or sealed away before they entered the wormhole.

“We’ve been given a slot,” Mai said, after a moment.  “We're number nineteen.  And they want to be paid.”

“Pay them,” Mariko ordered.  It was exorbitant, but necessary.  “And then make sure they give us a receipt.”

Mai nodded as the wormhole came slowly into view.  It was a colossal ring of metal, easily fifty kilometres in diameter, with a line of starships proceeding towards it one by one.  When a starship entered the ring, there was a flash of light and it vanished, catapulted across seventy light years to Sumter, the wormhole junction for the sector.  On the other side of the ring, other starships were appearing and shaping their courses towards Karats or away from the system, having used the wormhole to skip seventy light years of travel.  It was humbling to realise that the wormhole network was all that bound the Imperium together, and that much of the wormhole was essentially invisible.  Most of it was really a complex structure of exotic matter and gravity fields that created a singularity that resonated with another in Sumter.

No other race, at least according to the Imperium’s propaganda, had invented wormholes for interstellar travel.  They weren't as useful without phase drive as one might expect, if only because it took years to cross interstellar space without some form of FTL drive, yet once established they had rapidly become the backbone of the Imperium’s economy.  The wormhole network also allowed the Imperial Navy to reinforce threatened sectors by funnelling ships through the network, giving it a speed and flexibility no mere system-defence force or alien power could match.

Mariko studied the giant ring as another starship vanished, wondering why the Imperium kept so many details about the wormholes to itself.  The files they'd found on the Bruce Wayne had been the only ones they’d ever seen, even when they’d been training to be space pilots.  But surely they weren't a secret any longer...

“Two more ships to go,” Mai commented, which brought Mariko out of her thoughts.  “And then it’s us.”

The ring was now visible with the naked eye, glowing with eerie energy that seemed to build to a crescendo as the starships approached the singularity and vanished in a flash of light.  It wasn't the largest construction built by humanity in space – the Imperial Palace, in orbit around Homeworld, was much larger – but it was easily the most impressive.  She was suddenly aware that Fitz had joined them on the bridge, strapping himself into the command chair as the countdown ticked down the final few seconds.  He probably hadn't seen many wormholes either.

“Here we go,” Mai said.  “Three...two...one...zero.”

Mariko braced herself as a faint sensation ran through the ship.  For a moment, she was convinced that they were falling down an endless rabbit hole, before the stars blinked around them.

Of course the star patterns are different, she thought scornfully.  We just travelled seventy light years in a single second.

Behind them, the wormhole junction flickered and another starship emerged.  The automated systems had already thrust them away from the gate, but she took control and put some additional distance between them and the following ship.  It was rare for starships to collide, outside deliberate ramming actions, yet it was alarmingly possible near a wormhole.  Too many starships trying to enter the same area of space.

“Impressive,” Fitz murmured.  “I never get tired of seeing the junction.”

“It’s very impressive,” Mai agreed.  “Do you think they’d give me a look at the generators if I asked nicely?”

“Only if you want to spend the rest of your life on a penal world,” Fitz said, dryly.  “They guard their secrets very carefully.”

Mariko shrugged.  The wormhole gate at Karats had been impressive, but the wormhole junction was something else.  It was an entire series of gates, rotating around a central core that seemed to flicker in and out of existence every four seconds.  Her mother had used balls of wool to knit when she’d been taking a break from bringing up two very untraditional children and the junction reminded her of them.  There were no less than twenty-four gates worked into the junction, nineteen of them leading to works within the Sumter Sector itself.  The remaining five reached further out, connecting with other sectors in a chain that eventually led back to Homeworld itself.  A starship with emergency priority could cross the entire Imperium in a chain of jumps within days.

“I'm picking up a message from OTC,” Mai said, as one of her consoles started to beep.  “They’re demanding a full accounting of us before they can allow us to proceed any further.”

“Shoot them our IFF and priority codes,” Fitz said.

A pair of gunboats swooped towards the Bruce Wayne, their weapons ready to open fire on a ship that refused to cooperate.  Behind them, there was a small flotilla of destroyers maintaining patrol around the junction.

Oddly, Mariko felt reassured.  Sumter was the one system in the sector that the Imperium could not afford to lose, so it was good to know that the Imperial Navy was taking good care of it.

“They should agree to let us enter orbit without searching the ship,” Fitz put in after a pause.

Mariko looked at him.  “And what if they insist on searching us?”

“We have to wave the cards under their noses,” Fitz said, “and that will attract attention.”

“They’re backing off,” Mai said.  “And they’ve dumped us one hell of a lot of forms they expect us to fill in before we can land on the planet.”

“Typical,” Fitz said.  He picked up a datapad and downloaded the forms to it.  “I’ll read through them, fill them out and then upload them for their attention.”

“If any of them pay any attention to them at all,” Mai muttered.  She had less patience with officialdom than Mariko.  “Do you think they’ll just throw them in the electronic shredder and forget about them?”

“Of course not,” Fitz said.  “They will have the papers scanned by an expert program, which will blink up an alert if there’s anything wrong with them.”  He smiled.  “Now do you see why someone in Richardson’s place is so dangerous?”

***

Sumter had only been settled for three hundred years, but it was already the most densely-populated planet in the sector, according to the welcome pack transmitted by the gunboats.  Five million humans – there were no figures on alien settlers – had moved to Sumter to enjoy the greatest economic opportunities since the first expansion into space, a claim that had Mariko shaking her head in disbelief.  As the Sector Capital, Sumter was assured of a great deal of development, but there was so much paperwork that it was hard to imagine that anything actually got done.  A semi-autonomous world like Karats would be more likely to enjoy unbridled economic growth, assuming it discarded most of the red tape that kept the Imperium from developing too quickly.

The planet was orbited by a dozen orbital stations, a medium-sized shipyard and a single, brooding orbital fortress.  A quick check revealed that the Sector Governor and the Sector Admiral, the man charged with defending the entire sector against secessionists, alien rebels and outside threats, made their homes on the fortress.  Perhaps they had good reason to fear that Sumter wasn't as safe as the welcome pack claimed.

Mariko worked her way through the paperwork with a sigh, even though she was mainly checking Fitz’s work.  The bureaucrats wanted to know everything about the Wally West, starting with her last five ports of call and her crew’s medical records.  There was a danger that a cross-species infection could spread from world to world on starships, but the threat was vastly overstated, providing nothing more than an excuse to harass shippers until they agreed to pay a bribe.  Fitz had filled in most of the sections by citing Interstellar Couriers’ specific shipping regulations, which asserted that all security precautions had been taken without actually providing any details.  It was something that would probably annoy the paper-pushers on the ground, but it wouldn't actually give them an excuse to deny them entry.  The last thing the Governor would want was someone with as many connections as Interstellar Couriers yanking on his chain, demanding that the bureaucrats be unceremoniously removed from office.

Even posing as Interstellar Couriers, they hadn't been given a low planetary orbit, but a high one well outside weapons range.  That wasn't too surprising, she had to admit; any naval commander worth his rank would hesitate to allow an unchecked ship anywhere near vulnerable installations in orbit around the planet.

“Done,” she said, finally.  “You think they’ll let us land without further ado?”

“I think they’ll insist on checking us thoroughly,” Fitz said.  “It would probably be quicker to get a smuggler to slip us down to the surface, but there’s no need to be covert just yet.”

Mariko nodded and headed off to prepare the shuttle.  Fitz had warned her to be careful what she packed outside the concealed compartments, noting that the shuttle was almost certain to be searched by the locals before they were allowed to leave the spaceport.  Even Interstellar Couriers wouldn't be allowed too many liberties.  The guns and a handful of tools Fitz had insisted on bringing with him should be well hidden.  Their clothing included some of the sexy underwear that they’d picked up on Dorado, in the hopes that it would distract the searchers.  Mariko remembered watching customs officers pawing through her bags on her first port of call and suspected that they would do the same thing here.

Twenty minutes later, once the autopilot had been brought online and carefully checked, she took the helm of the standard shuttle and steered it down towards the planet.  Sumter’s OTC was paranoid, compared to Dorado or Greenland, as they sent her a single course and warned that any deviation would result in weapons being locked on her shuttle; if she then did not resume the stated course, they would immediately destroy the shuttle.  It seemed far too paranoid of a policy, although Fitz seemed to take it in stride.  A single shuttle that crashed in the wrong place could do a great deal of damage.

Terrorists were very fond of that tactic.

Sumter City was a giant domed edifice, a reminder that even after three hundred years the planet hadn't been fully terraformed.  Mariko couldn't understand why the Imperium hadn't chosen a more habitable world – like Karats – before realising that all of those worlds would have had settlers who had fled the Imperium in the past in the hopes of escaping its grip.  The Sector Capital couldn't be allowed a resentful and bitter underclass, although as they flew over smaller domes surrounding the city dome she realised that one had developed anyway.  There would be thousands of aliens who had come in search of a new life, only to discover that they were – at best – second-class citizens of Sumter.  And there must be plenty of humans who felt the same way.

The spaceport came into view and she guided the shuttle towards the landing pad that had been specifically earmarked for them.  Mai rolled her eyes as the intercom suddenly barked out a series of orders and threats from OTC, ordering them to move to a different pad and land within two minutes.  Mariko ignored the threats and did her best to follow orders, although she couldn’t see any reason for the change.  Maybe they were just trying to annoy the Interstellar Couriers.  It was as good a theory as any other.

The moment they touched down, the landing pad started to rotate before sliding down a long shaft.  Mariko looked up as a solid hatch closed high overhead, blocking their escape back to the ship.  They were trapped.

“They’ll move the shuttle into a private compartment,” Fitz said.  He didn't seem surprised.  “They don’t let people stay in their own shuttles overnight.  Officially, it’s for security reasons, but I suspect that they probably get kickbacks from the local hotel managers.  Even if your business can be concluded within a day, they still expect you to book lodging in the city overnight.”

“Money talks, common sense walks,” Mariko said.

“Exactly,” Fitz agreed.  The shuttle came to a halt facing what looked like a secured airlock, with an access tube that reached out towards them.  “We’ll have to leave most of our tools in the secure compartment for the moment.  Depending on the situation on the surface, we may have to come back and pay extra for access to our shuttle.”

“Bastards,” Mai commented.  “Do they want to convince people not to visit Sumter?”

“The juniors see the seniors profiting from corruption on a much greater scale and wonder why they should bother following the rules,” Fitz said.  “Shoot a few thousand corrupt officials and they would be replaced within the day.  Even E Branch has problems tracking everyone who might be corrupt.  Outside the Marines and a handful of other elite units, corruption is a major problem – and one that is rarely acknowledged, let alone challenged.”

He stood up as the access tube mated with the shuttle’s airlock.  “We’ll go to the hotel directly after this,” he added.  “You’ll want a shower after they finish pawing you.”

Mariko looked over at him as she picked up her bag and slung it over her shoulder.  How bad could it be?

***

The answer turned out to be pretty bad.

As soon as they stepped off the shuttle, they were separated by sex, leaving Fitz striding off down a separate corridor with a jaunty air.  Mariko and Mai looked at each other and then walked down the female corridor, into a room with four female officers with bored expressions.  Their bags were scanned, searched and then passed through a secure barrier, leaving the girls separated from their bags.  A moment later, they were urged into a scanner which seemed to leave their teeth vibrating in their mouths, before their prints were checked against the planet’s records of wanted criminals.  It was several minutes before the guards reluctantly conceded that they weren't on the list of people to be arrested on sight, or transferred to the next starship leaving the planet for another world.

That would have been enough on any other world, but Sumter clearly operated under different rules.

The guards bounced questions off them quickly, demanding to know where they’d been last and where they were going, leaving Mariko to fall back on the reminder that Interstellar Couriers had special dispensation to keep their shipping destinations secret.  They didn't seem to like that reminder, but didn't press it too far, something that puzzled her until she realised that they knew just how much clout Interstellar Couriers had.  The guards could lose their posts, or be automatically reclassified as Indents, if they pushed hard enough for Interstellar Couriers to make an official complaint.

Finally, they waved a paper under Mariko’s nose and insisted that she sign it.  It confirmed that they hadn't visited any world under Imperial Quarantine within the last six months and acknowledged that they would be held personally responsible if they lied and disease spread into Sumter’s ecosystem.  Mariko signed with a flourish and marched through the gates as if she owned the building, Mai following behind in her wake.  They probably couldn't see the sweat on the back of her neck, she hoped.  Fitz had once told her that the secret to dealing with minor functionalities was never to let them think that they had the upper hand.

Fitz was waiting outside with a droll smile on his face, consulting a datapad someone had given to him.  “You’ll be pleased to know that they have recommended a number of very expensive hotels,” he said, with a wink.

Mariko rolled her eyes.  She would have bet good money that most of those hotels were heavily bugged too.

“I’ve ordered a taxi to take us to the Sumter Ritz,” he told them. “It seems to be the best of a bad bunch.”

Mariko said nothing as they took an elevator to the surface and looked out over Sumter City.  For a Sector Capital, there was something oddly depressing about it: a mixture of cheap buildings under the dome, along with a handful of more permanent edifices.  Most of the buildings lacked any sense of elegance, being nothing more than reinforced concrete blocks.  A number of humans and aliens lived beside them, on the streets.  Mariko realised, with a shock of horror, that they didn't have anywhere else to go.

The taxi ride only added to the sense of desolation.  Few building seemed to be more than temporary measures, illuminated only by the pale light that shone down from the dome high overhead.  It would have been simple enough to expand the dome or provide limited adjustment so that humans could survive in the outside environment, but the Imperium hadn't bothered.  Sumter’s real wealth lay in the wormhole junction and the excessive fees that they charged for transit.  There was no incentive to improve conditions on the planet itself.

Fitz tapped his lips as they finally reached the hotel.  Given what they were paying, it should have been luxury personified – and they did try.  But there was something sad about it, as if the owners no longer really cared about trying to make a profit.  Mariko took one look at the menu and rolled her eyes.  The owners would have gone out of business on Edo long ago.

“We start work tomorrow,” Fitz said, for the benefit of any unseen ears.  He searched the rooms carefully, working his way through all the places where a bug could be hidden.  One of them was hidden, rather neatly, in a power socket.  Another had been more blatantly hidden in an overhead chandelier.  “Go run a bath.  We all need a soak.”

Mariko nodded – running water would make it harder for the bugs to hear them – and went to do as she was told.  The real plan didn't involve sleep – at least, not yet.  They had to be on their way before something else went wrong.

Chapter Twenty

“What a dump.”

Fitz didn't disagree with her as he led her up the stairs of Apartment Complex #77.  It was a squalid building, reeking with the stench of something she didn't want to identify, barely illuminated by a series of fluorescent lights embedded in the ceiling.  Small piles of rubbish lay everywhere, as if the cleaners couldn't be bothered sweeping it all up and discarding it, or even feeding it into a fabricator as raw materials.  Some of the concrete used to make the apartment block even looked decayed, as if it was on the verge of collapse.  Mariko couldn't imagine why anyone would want to live in the complex.

“Clearly the Secessionists aren't bothering to pay very much,” Fitz muttered, as they stopped outside the right door.

Mariko waited while Fitz checked the remainder of the corridor for security devices, and then pressed a sonic screwdriver against the lock.  There was a click and the door opened, revealing a darkened room inside.  Fitz unhooked a flashlight from his belt and shone it around rather than turn on the light; the local monitoring software might notice an unexpected power drain and sound the alarm.

Mariko followed him into the room, her heart pounding like a drum.  Fitz had told her that the key to a successful burglary was never to allow fear to overcome you, but in practice it was harder than it seemed.  She knew that she was out of place, even though they were carrying cards from Imperial Intelligence.  A real intelligence officer would know that merely waving the cards in front of any investigating policeman would convince any policeman to help with the burglary.

“Stay there,” Fitz ordered, as he swept the room with a bug detector.  “Let me sweep the room first.”

Nothing appeared.

This puzzled Mariko until she realised that Imperial Intelligence wouldn't bother to spy on someone as low-ranking as Richardson, while the Secessionists knew better than to risk exposing their agent by bugging him.  After all, there were still the occasional, random loyalty checks carried out by Imperial Intelligence to worry about.

Mariko unhooked her own flashlight and glanced around.  The apartment was neater than she had expected, but there were two piles of dirty clothes in the corners, as if the owner couldn't be bothered to wash them.  A pile of neatly-washed plates sat on one end of the kitchen sink beside a fridge that seemed to be on its last legs.  There was a very faint smell of incense or something that he might have used to cover up the stench from outside.

When she got to his bedroom, she saw a single bed and a pile of books borrowed from the local library.  Most of them appeared to be trashy thrillers set in the glory days of the Imperium, but a couple were more recent.  And one of the books was a technical manual relating to starship operations.  Mariko didn't think it was classified – most data on starship operations was in the public domain – yet she couldn't think of any reason for Richardson to have it.  He was nothing more than a simple data-entry clerk.

“No private computer system,” Fitz said.  He spoke normally, but it seemed so loud that Mariko almost jumped out of her skin.  The urge to whisper was overpowering.  “The one here is from the Imperium – he won’t store anything delicate on it if he values his life.”

Mariko nodded in understanding.  The Imperium gave computers to its workers, carefully not mentioning that they had backdoors that allowed Imperial Intelligence to get past the security systems and access whatever data was stored on the device.  Mostly, according to Fitz, they found nothing more than pornography, but sometimes they found evidence of security breaches or worse.  Anyone with money would buy a system that hadn’t already been hacked by intelligence services, even though having one was regarded as grounds for suspicion in its own right.

Fitz pushed a datachip into the computer and it whirred to life, using Imperial Intelligence’s codes to carry out a complete data dump.  Everything Richardson had stored on the computer would be dumped onto the chip for future analysis, perhaps by Imperial Intelligence’s people on Sumter if Fitz couldn't find anything for himself.  As soon as it was finished, Fitz removed the chip, placed the computer back where he’d found it and took one, final sweep around the room.  There was no sign of anything else interesting, apart from a handful of holographic porn datachips.  All of them, according to the scrawled notes on their side, featured humans and aliens copulating in a manner that would bring neither children nor long-term happiness.

“Not much food in the fridge,” he observed, as he pulled the fridge away from the wall and studied the concrete panelling.  There seemed to be nothing there; after a moment, he put the fridge back.

He wandered over towards a portrait of a smiling lady on the other side of the room.  He poked and prodded it for a long moment, and then found the catch.  The painting opened like a cupboard, revealing a hidden safe.

Fitz chuckled and made a single snide comment: “Traditionalist.”

Mariko went to study the safe.  There was no way to open the unit, apart from a standard DNA scanner, presumably keyed only to Richardson.  “Can you open it?”

“Probably, but it's too risky,” Fitz said.  He placed his hand against the metal of the safe, presumably using one of his implants to scan the interior.  “This kind of safe is a devil to open unless you have the right DNA pattern.  Imperial Intelligence put a price on the head of the person who invented them, just because they had problems opening two belonging to suspects.  Even when they cracked the system, they still didn't manage to break into the secure compartment half the time.  One safe had a HE charge attached that took out the entire building after someone pushed the wrong button.”

He snorted.

“It will be much easier to get Richardson to open it for us,” he assured her, carefully replacing the painting where it covered the safe.

Now that he’d pointed it out, Mariko could see that the painting didn't fit in with the rest of the room.  Richardson should have covered his entire wall in paintings to ensure that the safe was better-hidden.  But she was anxious to be gone.

“Just let me put a couple of bugs in here,” Fitz said, apparently picking up on her anxiety, “and then we can be on our way.”

Mariko waited impatiently as Fitz hid one bug in the living room and another in the bedroom, before shining his flashlight around to make sure that they hadn't left any obvious traces of their presence.  Fitz had issued them fingerprint gloves that would conceal their identities if a forensic team examined the room, but he’d been insistent that they leave as few traces as possible.

Shaking his head, he beckoned for Mariko to follow him outside into the dingy corridor, locking the door behind her.  Then, he led the way down the unpleasant staircase to the outside world.

Darkness seemed to be falling over Sumter, although it was hard to be sure.  The local population looked busier, with hundreds of small cars driving about with a reckless disregard for the rules of the road.  Mariko was surprised to see them, until she remembered one of the pieces of data from the briefing notes.  Sumter had attempted to start up its native industry too early and ended up with a great many cars that were unsuitable for export, even to the more deprived worlds in the sector.  The local population had been able to obtain them at knockdown prices.

“Over there,” Fitz said, pointing to a small cafe.  “It’s time to start the oldest tradition of the spying industry.”

Mariko looked over at him, catching his smile.  “And that is?”

“Waiting,” Fitz said.  He led the way across the road, dodging a pair of tiny cars carrying young men with no hope in their eyes, and pushed the cafe door open.  “We get a bite to eat, dump the data to the ship...and we wait.”

The interior of the cafe almost made Mariko recoil.  On Edo, or on any other core world, it would have been shut down as a hazard to public health.  The genetic engineering in her system had its limits, she knew, and eating something from this cafe would push them right to the limits.  A huge stick of meat rotated in front of a glowing cooker, surrounded by a horde of flies that seemed intent on crawling all over the food before it could be served to the cafe’s human patrons.

Not that there were many patrons.

Mariko had the impression that the locals generally knew better than to buy food at such an unhealthy place.  There were only two other men in the cafe and they were both drinking beer at an astonishing rate.

“I think I’ve lost my appetite,” she said, as they sat down on a pair of filthy seats.  “You can't mean for us to eat here?”

“Maybe that part of the plan needs revision,” Fitz agreed.

The waitress tromped over towards them.  She was short, fat and utterly unhygienic.

Mariko took one look at her hands and resolved never to eat anything she might have touched.  It was a minor miracle that she hadn't killed anyone through food poisoning.  Of course, most of the planet’s inhabitants would have improved immune systems spliced into their DNA.  They’d be able to eat the food, even shake hands with the waitress.  They just wouldn't enjoy it very much.

“Two sealed cans of Coke-Cola, please,” Fitz told the waitress.  The waitress nodded and ambled away.

Mariko blinked in surprise, and then understood.  No one was quite sure of the exact origin of Coke-Cola, but the corporation that currently held the right to produce it came down very hard on anyone who tried to manufacture their own.  The cans would have been produced several light years from Sumter and shipped to the planet through the wormhole, rather than produced on Sumter itself.  It wouldn't be infected with the waitress’s hideous touch.

“Good call,” she said, after a moment.

The waitress ambled back towards them, carrying the pair of cans and two menus, dropping them both on the table.  Fitz eyed his can carefully before unsealing the lid and taking a swig.

“Does it taste normal?” Mariko asked.

“It seems to be,” Fitz agreed.  Despite the best the corporation could do, there were a hundred different places to manufacture the drink and the flavour was always a little different.  “Have a drink while I study the menu.”

Mariko opened hers and rolled her eyes.  The cafe boasted everything from bacon and eggs to something called a roast beef hash, all promoted by glossy photos that looked more appetising than the real thing.  She found herself looking wistfully at a hamburger before glancing around the cafe and deciding that their food wouldn't look anything like the pictures in the menu.  It would be covered in flies, for one thing.

“I repeat my earlier comment, with added sarcasm,” she said, dryly.

Fitz nodded in agreement, put the menu on a nearby table and pulled a terminal out of his pocket.

“What’s that?”

“Live feed from the bugs we put in,” Fitz said.  He placed the terminal on the table and settled back in his uncomfortable chair.  “And now we wait.”

The next hour passed very slowly, broken only by the waitress’s increasingly unsubtle hints that they should order something or get out.  Fitz spent it reviewing the data pulled out of Richardson’s computer, although he found nothing worthy of further investigation.  Mariko guessed that the fact that Imperial Intelligence could prowl through their own computers was an open secret by now.  It would be a foolish spy who left evidence lying around for Imperial Intelligence to find.

“Unless he wants to be caught,” Fitz commented, when she said as much out loud.  The waitress had vanished; Mariko didn’t want to think where.  “I’ve seen that before in some spies.  They feel guilt for what they’ve done and even though they don’t dare confess, they make mistakes. And that allows an investigator to track them down.  But Richardson has gone too far, I suspect, to want to be caught.  By now, his crimes would almost certainly earn him the death sentence.”

Mariko frowned.  “But how does that encourage him to help us?”

“It doesn’t,” Fitz said.  He winked at her.  “Why do you think I wanted to deal with him myself, rather than go through the Imperial Intelligence office here?  I can make a deal with Richardson, get him away from the planet, before I tell the local intelligence officers what has been happening on their watch.  They’re the ones who will be most vocal in their demand for a death sentence.”

“Because his existence makes them look incompetent,” Mariko guessed.

“Precisely,” Fitz said.  He shook his head sourly.  “But heads are going to roll, probably literally.  Richardson was an obvious weak point, in hindsight; someone with a lifestyle like that was bound to be vulnerable to blackmail.  The locals will have to explain a fairly embarrassing failure to their superior officers – and they won’t even be able to claim that they caught Richardson themselves.  They sat here, playing with themselves, while we discovered his existence and set out to turn him into a possible ally.”

“I see,” Mariko said.  “What are you going to do about it?”

“My report to my superiors will include a suggestion that Imperial Intelligence sends in a team of internal security agents” – he grinned, rather savagely – “devils in human form, to investigate possible security breaches on Sumter.  That team will identify what happened with Richardson and use it as grounds to remove the boss of the local intelligence station, probably along with his second.  Then someone new can be brought in, and everything will be re-examined in the hopes of catching any other blackmail victims.”

“But we don’t have any proof that there are others,” Mariko pointed out.

“We don’t have any proof that there aren’t others either,” Fitz countered.  He took another sip of his coke.  “You know the real problem with intelligence work?”

Mariko lifted an eyebrow.

“Nine times out of ten, you have the data you need right in front of you, but you can't make it fit into the right pattern,” Fitz told her.  “After the disaster you failed to see coming hits, the Grand Senate will crucify you for not having warned them in advance – after all, you had all the data, so why didn't you put it together?  And even when we do have all the data and the right picture, our political lords and masters don’t listen to us.”

He shrugged.  “Did you hear about Han where you were?”

“I was getting my qualifications at the time,” Mariko said.  There hadn't been much on the Imperial Communications Network, but rumours had been flying everywhere.  “I heard something, but...”

“There are times when I think the only thing we’re good at is suppressing information,” Fitz said.  His face was artfully blank.  “Han was settled by a group of people who believed that they had to be fruitful and multiply.  So they had their genes modified to ensure that they would have triplets every time, along with some other modifications ensuring that they practically went into heat at least once a year.  A few hundred years later, they had a major population problem – and a growing alien underclass.  We kept telling the Grand Senate that Han was a disaster waiting to happen, a problem that needed to be solved through copious intervention.  They didn’t listen to us.

“Until the day that Han rose in revolt, and much of the Imperium’s presence on the planet was destroyed.  The Civil Guard largely went over to the rebels.  They managed to take a number of starships intact and used them to raid nearby star systems, creating new living space for their population.  The Imperial Navy had to put them down savagely – and they still didn't listen.  An entire Marine battalion was wiped out because the Admiral commanding the operation didn't listen to intelligence warning him that they were going to land on top of a fortified position.  They had to kill over three million humans and aliens to convince the rest to settle down and accept the removal of most of the genetic modifications they had spliced into their bodies.”

He smiled, rather bitterly.  “Whatever you do in the intelligence world, there’s always some wiseass who thinks he knows better than you,” he concluded.  “And that person is normally the one authorising the budget.”

“You don’t have to worry about that,” Mariko said.

“Not always,” Fitz agreed.  “But there are times when Lord Fitzgerald cannot be seen to move openly.”

He stopped, looking out of the grimy window towards the darkening street.  “That’s him,” he said.  Mariko followed his gaze.  Richardson was a slight man, bent over as if he were carrying some great weight.  He was alone, naturally.  All the signs in his apartment had pointed to a bachelor life.

Mariko started to stand up, only to be stopped by Fitz.  “Let him get upstairs first, then the bugs will confirm that he’s gone to his apartment,” Fitz said.  “No point in chasing him when we know where he has to be going.”

He watched the terminal, waiting until one of the bugs revealed that Richardson had entered his apartment.  Mariko found herself wondering if he’d notice that they’d visited the flat, even though they’d done their best to hide their presence.  Richardson might have set up traps to warn him of the presence of unwanted guests.

“Time to move,” Fitz said.  He stood up, dropped a pair of coins from the local currency on the table, and headed towards the door.  “Showtime.”

Chapter Twenty-One

“Remember to show assurance at all times,” Fitz muttered, as they made their way up the dingy stairs.  They made no attempt to conceal their presence this time.  “You’re an officer in Imperial Intelligence.  Such people don’t make mistakes.  You know he’s guilty and you are going to hammer him if he refuses to cooperate.”

Mariko nodded as they reached Richardson’s door.  He couldn't have left without the bug alerting them, nor was there any way out of the apartment without going through the main door.  It struck her as a fire risk, but the Imperium had used the cheapest possible supplier to build their apartments.  They’d probably thought that they could move on to something better by now.  She raised her hand and knocked on Richardson's door sharply.

There was a flurry of motion from within…and then, silence.

They exchanged glances and Fitz nodded at her.  She rapped on the door again.

It opened slowly, as if Richardson didn't want to speak to anyone.  “Yes?”

Mariko put her foot in the door, as Fitz had instructed her.  “I am Agent 008 of Imperial Intelligence,” she announced.  When on official duty, Imperial Intelligence officers didn't use names, something that made little sense to her.  “We need to talk to you.”

Richardson staggered backwards as if she’d struck him physically, allowing Mariko to follow him inside and Fitz to close the door behind them, blocking out the gaze of interested neighbours.  There had been no one in sight, but Fitz had warned her that most residents had a sixth sense for official trouble.  Mariko made a show of keeping her eyes on Richardson, while Fitz pretended to roam the room, searching for anything interesting.

“But...”  Richardson stammered, and then tried to clear his throat.  “I didn't do anything!”

“Matter of opinion,” Mariko said, firmly.  Fitz had told her to open about where they’d found the pictures, in the hopes it would dislodge any loyalty he felt to the Secessionists.  “We discovered images of you in a Secessionist base we raided.  Those images were used to push you into spying for them.  We know you did it. And your only hope is to cooperate right now.”

Richardson swayed, only to be caught by Fitz before he hit the floor.

“There’s no point in trying to deny it,” Mariko said, in a more gentle tone.  “We already know you’re guilty.  The only hope is to cooperate with us right now.”  Fitz had told her to keep drumming it into his head, time and time again.  “We have two possible sets of orders for you,” she continued.  “One will see you taken away to jail, interrogated under various truth drugs and then executed for espionage and treason.

"The other, if you cooperate, will see you transferred to another planet where you can live out the rest of your life in peace.  What are you going to choose?  Death...or cooperation?”

A hard-boiled infiltrator might have dared her to do her worst, but Richardson had been living under immense stress for years.  The earliest picture, according to Fitz, was at least six years old, suggesting that he might have been blackmailed for that long.

Mariko wondered, with an odd flicker of sympathy, if the lie Richardson had been forced to live was better or worse than what Carlos had had in mind for them, back on Dorado.  Maybe better, as Richardson had opened himself to blackmail through doing things that society frowned upon, not entirely without reason.

“I...I want to deal,” Richardson said, finally.

“I’m glad to hear it,” Mariko said pleasantly.  “Start from the beginning.  Who contacted you, and why?”

Fitz had warned her not to let up, even for a moment.  Given time to think and plan, Richardson could start lying to them – or insist on guarantees that they were in no position to give.

Richardson hesitated, and then took the plunge.

“I never knew his name,” he admitted.  “He must have seen me in the slums, because that’s where I went for my...sessions.  I opened the door and he walked right in, shoving a packet of pictures in my face.  He knew everything: he had pictures, details, sworn statements...I knew my career was doomed the moment I saw them.”

He started to shake.  Perhaps the shock was finally getting to him.

“He told me that if I didn’t do as he said, copies of the pictures would be sent to my superiors, my family and even my few friends at work,” he added.  “And what he wanted me to do at first was so harmless.  He only wanted data on starship flight paths, something anyone could have put together with access to the OTC feed.”

Fitz and Mariko exchanged glances.  Having a vague idea of a starship’s flight path wasn’t good enough to intercept the starship, but having a precise flight path was more than good enough.  It would be simple to intercept the starship in question, which might be an ordinary merchant ship, or a passenger liner with thousands of wealthy passengers who could be picked up for ransom.  There was no way that sort of data could be described as harmless.

“And then he wanted more data on shuttles and shuttle accidents, and then he wanted me to start adding details to the databanks,” Richardson continued, bitterly.  “I wanted to protest, but he just kept reminding me that my career was doomed – and that I would be charged with espionage if anyone found out the truth.  There was nothing I could do about the trap I was in – he even enjoyed reminding me that I was in his power.  By the end of the year, I was just giving him everything he asked for.”

Mariko frowned.  “And what did he ask for?”

“All sorts of things,” Richardson said.  “Imperial Navy files on personnel recruitment, classified intelligence files...everything I could access, he wanted.”

Fitz leaned forward.  “You shouldn't have been able to access classified intelligence files,” he said, sharply.  “How did you get into them?”

“They’re all on the same computer network,” Richardson confessed.  “I managed to hack into part of the intelligence network and write myself admin rights.  All of the signs of my intrusion were erased long before anyone from intelligence could possibly see them.”

Fitz said a word under his breath.  “Those damned fools,” he said.  “Didn’t it occur to any of them that someone could crack their goddamned files?”

Fortunately, Richardson paid no attention to this.  Instead, he looked directly at Mariko.

“I want to deal,” he said.  “I have information that you need and I will give it to you if you make a deal with me.”

Mariko scowled.  They’d given him too long, allowing him a chance to gather himself.

“I could take you to an interrogation chamber instead,” she pointed out, untruthfully.  “You have no augments that might interfere with probing your mind.  We would have everything we needed, and you would be nothing more than a vegetable.”

“You need to deal,” Richardson said, desperately.  “I have vital information that you need!”

“I’m sure you do,” Mariko said.  “But if you want us to deal, you have to give us some reason to convince our bosses that we gain more by making a deal than by handing you over to the interrogators.  A few minutes under the probe, and most people want to confess to crimes they committed in a past life.”

Richardson stared at her, wildly.

“I kept copies,” he admitted.  “Everything I sent to him, everything I did for him, I kept copies of it all.  I can give them to you if you’ll make a deal with me.”

Mariko looked over at Fitz, who raised one hand in a pre-arranged signal.  Deal.

“It sounds very tempting,” Mariko said, after a long moment.  “But I am afraid that we are going to have to verify the information before committing ourselves to anything.”

“But then I would have nothing to bargain with,” Richardson pointed out.  “Deal, or don’t deal.”

“Very well,” Mariko said.  They’d discussed the outlines of any deal while they’d been planning on the Bruce Wayne.  “You give us what you’ve got and assist us in the future if we deem it necessary.  In exchange, we will see to it that you get a safe place to live to spend the rest of your life.  It won't be on a resort world, but it will be somewhere where you can make a new start.”

Richardson stared up at her.  “But how do I know that you will keep your word?”

Mariko made a show of being tired of the game.

“You don't,” she told him.  “What you do have is the certainty of public naming and shaming, followed with a trial for treason and a certain death penalty.  Your only hope is to cooperate fully with us, which will hopefully allow us to round up the Secessionists on this planet before they do something we can't handle.  The choice is yours.”

She stepped back and watched him, aware that Fitz was watching him through implants that could measure his body temperature, heartbeat and even the electricity running through his brain.  He could practically read his thoughts; he could certainly tell if Richardson intended to lie to them.  Mariko felt a hot flash of envy as Fitz winked at her.  She would have sold her soul for a similar pair of augments.  Perhaps, if they stayed with Fitz after this crisis was solved, they would get such augments for themselves.  Or maybe they were only given to agents who had proved themselves to be paragons of trustworthiness and honesty.

“I’ll show you what I have,” Richardson said, finally.  He stumbled to his feet and staggered over towards the safe, and then reversed course.  “I...”

“We already know the safe’s there,” Fitz said, dryly.  “You’re wasting your time trying to hide it.”

Richardson flushed and turned back to the painting, moving it aside with a delicacy born of long practice.  The safe clicked open after it scanned his hand, noted that his DNA matched a permitted pattern and he was still alive.  A second layer, below the first one, demanded a numerical code.  Fitz would have memorised it, Mariko was sure, but she did her best to remember it as well.  Anyone who killed Richardson and used his still-warm body to break into the safe would find themselves stymied when they reached the second layer.  Putting in the wrong code would probably have explosive consequences.

Inside, there were several high-capacity datachips and a handful of devices she didn't recognise until Richardson brought one of them out into the light.  The glass-like wafer was actually a section of internal memory from a standard computer, something that could be removed and replaced easily, if necessary.  They could carry thousands of terabytes worth of data and were only usable if reconnected to the right computer.  It was a neat way to confuse searchers right from the start.

Behind the chips, there were a small bundle of papers tied up with a bow and a single outdated projectile weapon, of a design Mariko didn't recognise.  Richardson picked it up, looked at it thoughtfully and then put it back in the safe, moments before Fitz could take the weapon from him with augmented strength.  The papers turned out to be printed copies of the blackmail material and a sealed letter addressed to the head of his division.  Suicide had clearly been much on his mind.

“Give me the chips,” Fitz ordered, flatly.  “And then tell me which computer you used to read the internal wafers.”

“The standard one, over there,” Richardson said, pointing to the computer they’d seen earlier.  “It’s possible to partition their network drives to keep out watching snoops – it’s one of the secrets we share amongst ourselves.  And it’s not something obvious unless you take the computer to pieces and discover what’s no longer there.”

He shook his head at Fitz’s expression.  “Now, about my deal...?”

“That will depend on how fully you cooperate,” Fitz informed him.  He was studying one of the chips thoughtfully, turning it from side to side in his hand.  “Are there any unpleasant surprises on these chips?”

“No,” Richardson said.  “I wanted them to be visible to everyone if...”  He didn't finish his sentence.

“You were caught,” Fitz said, flatly.  “Or when you finally decided you couldn't live a lie and killed yourself.  Why didn't you bring it to Imperial Intelligence right from the start?”

Richardson looked at him as though he was insane.  “And ruin my entire life?  No one would ever trust me again!”

“I suppose someone who saw you fucking a Pixie would have real problems trusting you again,” Fitz said, tightly.  “You know what they say about Pixie-fuckers?”

Mariko didn’t, but suspected that she didn't want to know.

“That’s why I couldn't go to them,” Richardson insisted.  “They would have condemned me for doing something lawful, but...”

“Frowned upon?”  Fitz offered.  “Why didn't you just use a VR package?  You could have enjoyed yourself for hours without opening yourself to blackmail.”

“But that wouldn’t have been real,” Richardson protested.  “I mean...”

“I know what you mean,” Fitz said.  “But I’m afraid that my boss and I” – he nodded towards Mariko, who had forgotten that she was meant to be in charge – “now have to clean up the mess you have created.  When is your next meeting with the person who contacts you?”

“I don’t know until I get an email from a junk mail service,” Richardson said.  “Whenever I get it, I have to go down to Undercity and make contact with the bastard.  He takes what I have to give him and issues new orders.  And I...”

He stopped, as if something had just occurred to him.  “You intend to snatch him, don’t you?”  He asked.  “Let me help.”

“Oh, you’re going to help,” Fitz assured him.  He smiled, rather unpleasantly.  “How often do these meetings occur?”

Mariko listened to the interrogation, shaking her head in awe as Fitz went over the same points time and time again, changing tack slightly on every question.  Keeping a set of lies straight was difficult when the liar was being harassed by a trained interrogator, but the truth had the advantage of being true and didn't have to be made up.  Richardson had met his contact in the lounge below the brothel he favoured, a lounge where humans and aliens met in near-equality.  There was little difference in the treatment of lower-class humans and aliens, at least not on Sumter.  Other worlds held out the promise of lasting cooperation if the Imperium didn't manage to ruin it.

The contact was a human male, with a face so bland that Fitz suggested that it had been cosmetically reshaped – or was really nothing more than a simple mask made from living flesh.  It did suggest that the contact might not be human, but Richardson was adamant that the contact was definitely as human as he was.  There were subtle clues suggesting an alien nature from even the most human-like alien.  Their gait might not be quite right, their proportions might be badly wrong...and they might have problems with their senses of smell and taste.  Some human foods couldn't be eaten by other humanoid races, which had their own foodstuffs and mostly refused to allow humans to eat them.  Besides, a Secessionist agent who was human might be able to call upon human justice long enough to escape, rather than face immediate punishment as an alien rebel.

And if the meetings did take place every two weeks, as Richardson suggested, they were approaching the deadline for another one.

“All right,” Fitz said.  “This is what I want you to do.”

He looked down at Richardson, who quailed under his gaze.  “You will continue your life as normal, but you will use a communicator I will give you” – he put one down on the table – “to inform me the moment you receive a request for another meeting.  When you go to that meeting, you will not go alone – but you will appear to be alone.  If possible, we will give you something you can wear to report on your location and relay what you are saying to us; if not, we will just follow you from a distance.  Once you have concluded the meeting, you will go home by the quickest route and wait for us to contact you.”

Richardson swallowed hard.  “What happens if you don’t contact me?”

“I will leave instructions for your pardon and exile to a less...sensitive…world with the officers on this planet,” Fitz assured him.  “Should we come to grief, other agents will pick up the case and run with it.  I assure you that they will find out if you helped contribute to our deaths and that would mean the end of any deal.  Do you understand me?”

“Yes, sir,” Richardson said.

Fitz nodded at Mariko, who realised that she was now meant to play the good cop.

“You have done something very stupid, but you have a chance to serve the Imperium now,” she said, in a very gentle tone.  “Don’t fuck this up. We will take good care of you.”

She patted him on the shoulder and watched as Fitz placed the chips, wafers and computer in his rucksack.  Each of the chips could hold thousands of terabytes of data; even with the best computer analysis software, she didn't see how they could review them all in time.  But they’d know what Richardson’s contact asked for, wouldn’t they?  Perhaps they could use that to guide them to the important parts of the collection.

“Come along,” she said, to Fitz.  “And you” – to Richardson – “get a proper dinner, some sleep, and then reflect on how lucky you are to have a chance to make up for your indiscretion.  Not everyone gets that sort of chance.”

Outside, pitch darkness had descended, broken only by sallow streetlights that produced plenty of shadows for footpads and muggers to hide in.  The streets were almost deserted, apart from a handful of drunken men singing their way down the other side of the street.  Their song made her blush the moment she worked out what half the words meant...

“Back to the hotel,” Fitz said.  “And then back to analysis.  The enemy doesn’t sleep, so neither can we.”

Chapter Twenty-Two

“You should have taken me along,” Mai said, when they returned to the hotel.  “I’m sure I would have been useful.”

Fitz grunted as he walked over to the first bug and carefully removed it with the sonic screwdriver, before taking it into the next room and burying it under a mountain of pillows.  The second bug was harder to remove, so he used the sonic screwdriver to disable it before returning the device to his pocket and jumping down to the floor.

“They probably won’t notice,” he said, by way of explanation.  “Plenty of travellers in these hotels disable the bugs, even ones on legitimate business.  It’s the ones who ignore the bugs you have to watch; they’re either ignorant, which isn't too bad, or they’re using the bugs to lull the hotel into a false sense of security.”

He looked at Mai.  “It’s better to have someone back here watching from afar if something goes wrong,” he said.  “If it was entirely up to me, I would have a trained team backing me up, ready to jump in with weapons blazing if the shit hit the fan.”

“But I have no weapons,” Mai pointed out, weakly.

“I could find some here,” Fitz said.  “Whatever the Imperium may say, the trade in illegal weapons has been booming over the past few hundred years, even on worlds that are supposed to be secure.  I’d prefer to avoid having to call upon Imperial Intelligence stockpiles, but I can probably locate an arms dealer in Undercity without too many problems.”

He shrugged as he picked up the first datachip he’d taken from Richardson.  “A pity we don’t have a bigger team,” he said, after a moment.  “Some of us could work with Richardson, forcing him to guide us through the files he modified or handed over to his contact.  As it is, we have to leave him alone and hope that he doesn't decide to betray us.”

Mai looked up, alarmed.  “Is that possible?”

“He may feel that the Secessionists could get him off this ball of rock before Imperial Intelligence could tear the planet apart looking for him,” Fitz said.  “Or he may decide to buy a ticket out-system himself and flee both factions.  The behaviour of a man who feels like a hunted animal isn't easy to predict.  One way or another, we have to keep a close eye on him – and one hand wrapped around his nuts.  We have to keep him feeling that his only hope for getting out alive is working with us.”

“And it is,” Mariko said, softly.

“Order whatever food you want,” Fitz ordered.  “It will probably taste better here than at the diner.  I’ll eat once I’ve started reviewing the files.”

Fitz was right, Mariko discovered, ten minutes later.  The hotel’s food actually managed to look appetising, although there was a lack of local specialities that surprised her.  But then, most of the population was probably fed on fish and vat-grown algae.  There would be no room for a genuine local style to develop yet.  The chicken tasted suspiciously bland and the fries were rather flat, yet it was edible.  She felt a great deal better after eating enough to quiet her stomach, so she picked up a plate of nibbles and took them into Fitz’s room.

“You need to eat,” she said, putting the plate down beside him.  “I don’t think that even your augmentation can do much without proper fuel.”

“I’ve known soldiers to force themselves to eat their own flesh when they were running out of supplies,” Fitz said.

Mariko was appalled – and yet it was technically possible.  Given the right sort of inner nanotech, it was possible to turn almost anything into a fuel source for the body.

“But you're right.  I do need to eat,” he admitted with a smile.  “The picture emerging in front of me is not a happy one.”

Mariko nodded.  She wasn't surprised.

“I think we all knew that that was going to happen,” she said, dryly.  “What has he been doing?”

“I don’t have a complete workup yet,” Fitz said, “but the least dangerous thing he’s been doing is passing personnel files on to the Secessionists.  Anyone with a skilled expert in psychology could use those files to identify someone else who might be weak enough to succumb to their pressure and turn him into a second Richardson.”

“I see,” Mariko said.  “How many?”

“He passed over hundreds of thousands of files,” Fitz said.  He snorted.  “They can't all be spies, or we would have lost the war decades ago.  But anyone mentioned in these datachips will have to be regarded as a potential suspect.  Investigating them all will take years...”

“Which could be the point,” Mariko pointed out.

“You’re getting better at this,” Fitz said agreeably.  “Imperial Intelligence will go mad trying to sort through all the possible suspects.  Anything that even smacks of disloyalty will be grounds for a category-one investigation.  Our morale is going to go right down the tubes...

“I’m seriously considering withholding this part of the data for the moment,” he added.  “A witch-hunt will tear us apart.  Perhaps we should just start cutting movement orders, get the suspects scattered over the Imperium.  Except that many of them will be of long-service in this sector and married to local women.  Damn!”

“They won’t want to go,” Mariko said, quietly.

“To say the least,” Fitz said.  “I’d bet half my father’s estate that almost all of the people in the files haven’t been approached, but how the hell do I prove it?  The local station is going to shit itself when it discovers what Richardson has been doing under their very nose...and they will overreact to any other possible leak.  I need to take this to someone with enough authority to hold the locals back from doing anything stupid.”

Mariko picked up a chicken stick and chewed on it thoughtfully.

“Is there anyone with that much authority?”

“Only people back on Homeworld,” Fitz said.  “I’d have to convince them that it was important, and that won’t be easy.  Overruling a station chief is never good for Imperial Intelligence’s morale.”

He shrugged, picking up a second set of chips.

“This merry lot involved fiddling with the manifests of various lost shuttles and a couple of starships.  Around eighty personnel with Imperial Navy records were reported as being on the shuttles when they exploded, leaving few traces behind for an assessment team to recover.  Those officers are now legally dead...”

Mariko saw where he was going.  “So where are they now?”

“That’s the question,” Fitz said.  “What’s more worrying is that their service records suggest long-term crewmen with experience, but without the connections to become mustangs and rise in the ranks.  The Imperial Navy has a major problem with officers being promoted because of family connections or outright back-scratching.  These crewmen would have known that their careers were going nowhere, while they had to take the orders of inbred morons with a perfect pedigree and little else.”

The anger in his voice surprised her.

“I thought that was how you joined the Guards?” she ventured.

“One of their long-serving sergeants was kind enough to put me in my place,” Fitz said.  “Some of the orders I gave on a training field would have killed my men if I’d issued them in combat.  But not everyone is bright enough to recognise that they might want to listen to people who have been in the military longer than the inbred morons have been alive.”

He shook his head.  “At least eighty personnel, missing and presumed dead,” he told her.  “Maybe more, if Richardson wasn't the only spy; eighty people who could be anywhere by now.”

“Eighty isn't that many,” Mariko protested.

“You can run a superdreadnaught with eighty men if those men know what they’re doing and don’t mind having no damage control section,” Fitz corrected her, darkly.  “Maybe not a realistic prospect for a long engagement, but more than enough for a surprise attack.  And guess what else Richardson has been fiddling with?”

Mariko saw it, clearly.  “Starship numbers,” she said.  “He’s helped them to steal an entire fleet.”

“Only seven ships, the largest a battlecruiser,” Fitz said, savagely.  “They were supposed to be part of the Imperial Navy reserve, ships placed in mothballs because we didn't have the trained crewmen to operate them.  Richardson appears to have manipulated the system very well; orders to renovate them came from one source, papers for their transfer came from another source and IFF codes that allowed them to use the wormhole network came from a third.  I don’t think Richardson did all of this on his own.  Someone very high up has been helping him to manipulate the paperwork.”

“Lady Mary,” Mariko said.

“She isn't a Navy officer,” Fitz said.  “But she will have allies – clients – among the Imperial Navy officers in the sector.  A few nights on Tuff and they’d probably be eating out of her hand.”  He snorted.  “But we can leave the rest of the analysis until later.  What do you think this means?”

Mariko saw what the Secessionists were doing and swore out loud.  Revolt was futile because the Imperial Navy would put it down, by orbital bombardment if necessary.  But if the Secessionists had a fleet of their own...

“They’re building their own navy,” she said.  “They could stand off the Imperial Navy, couldn't they?”

“Perhaps,” Fitz said.  “But nineteen ships won’t stand up against a full battle squadron, not unless they intend to use hit and run raids against our shipping.  That won’t keep them going for long once the Imperium is aware of the threat.  They’d be forced to flee to the Rim, or get crushed.”

Mariko considered it.

“What if they call on the Snakes for more support?”

“It’s a possibility,” Fitz agreed.  “The Snakes could certainly give a single battle squadron a very hard time, perhaps destroy it outright.  But then the Imperium would send an entire fleet to settle the score and just drive on their empire.  The Snakes would be brutally crushed, and that would be the end of that.”

He hesitated.

“I happen to know that there are planners in the Imperial Navy who believe that we should take out the Snakes now,” he added.  “Put together a task force and just advance on their systems, forcing them to confront us or watch us turn their homeworlds to radioactive glass.  Not a pleasant thought, but if we fight it out now, we may not have to worry about fighting them later.”

“As the Imperium continues to decline in strength,” Mariko said, grimly.  The prospect of so many deaths, even alien deaths, was horrifying.  “What did the Imperial Navy have to say about the planned attack?”

“They claimed that the planners were mad,” Fitz said.  “And then, they insisted that they should all be removed from sensitive positions and exiled out to the Rim.  The last thing they want is a foreign war that might call attention to how far the rot has spread into the Imperial Navy.”

“I’m sure they know already,” Mariko said.

“In the Core Worlds, people don’t realise that the Imperium is actually contracting,” he said, shaking his head in negation.  “Why should they?  Even the poorest of humans there has a life that the humans out here would envy, built upon an alien underclass.  They have more than enough to eat or drink, they have their VR simulations, they have an attitude towards sex that would shock anyone from Edo...”

Mariko snorted, remembering how many times she’d been shocked since she’d joined Fitz’s team.

“So why should they worry about the future?  But the lights are going out, one by one, and every time it grows a little harder to mend them.  One of Homeworld’s major fusion plants failed last year – it took months of investigation before they realised that the contractors hadn’t been performing basic maintenance.  The techs who should be able to repair it are not coming out of the schools.  Instead, we get kids in adult bodies who feel that the Imperium owes them something – and they will riot if their demands are not met.  And, every year, the burden on the alien underclass grows stronger.  Something is going to blow.”

He stood up and walked around the room.

“The Secessionists are building a fleet,” he said after a minute, possibly listing the points in his mind.  “Why?  Presumably, they want to deter the Imperial Navy from moving against rebellious worlds.  If so, they would have some room to negotiate with the Imperium, perhaps to request limited autonomy like the Core Worlds.  But that won’t please the corporations who own those worlds and their indentured populations.  The Grand Senate would probably be pushed into a costly naval operation anyway.”

“Perhaps they don’t know that,” Mariko said, softly.

“They would have to know it, unless they are complete idiots,” Fitz said.  “We could defuse a hell of a lot of ticking time bombs if we agreed to give those worlds some independence, but the corporations keep blocking it before it ever gets in front of the Senate.  So we'd end up with a major space battle, which the Imperial Navy wins...the corporations take a big hit, but the Secessionists get smashed.  It hardly seems worthwhile.”

Mariko considered this, remembering what her father had grumbled about the big interstellar corporations.

“What if the corporations are having a financial crisis and cannot afford a delay in production?” she asked after a long pause.

“They’d have a worse crisis if those worlds became independent by force,” Fitz pointed out.  He considered, briefly.  “The problem is that the records we need to check are sealed, even to Imperial Intelligence, without a court order.  And getting one of them would be very difficult.”

Mariko blinked.

“Even for the dreaded Imperial Intelligence?”

“Makes you wonder what they have to hide,” Fitz said, sardonically.  “I have a feeling that when we discover precisely what has been going on inside the Imperium’s economy, we will be looking at a major economic collapse.  Countless fortunes will be wiped out overnight; families like mine might lose everything they have...the result would be absolute disaster.  We might not even be able to pay the Imperial Navy and the Marines, let alone the Civil Guards.  And what will happen then?”

“Perhaps that’s the point,” Mariko offered.  “What happens to the Secessionists if this looming disaster suddenly breaks out into the open?”

“Seems goddamned risky,” Fitz countered.  “They might be ruthless, but they’ve never shown a direct willingness to sacrifice entire planetary populations for their cause.  And they are not idiots.  What are we missing?”  He paced around the room, repeating the question out loud.  “What are we missing?”

“Perhaps we should ask Lady Mary,” Mariko said.  “Couldn't we go back to Tuff and get some answers from her?”

“We might have to,” Fitz said, sourly.  “But I’d prefer to avoid an environment where everyone will recognise me.”  He shook his head as he sat back down on the bed.

“You and Mai get a wash and some sleep,” he ordered.  “I’ll keep an eye on our friend as I read through the rest of his documents.”

***

The next two days passed slowly.  Fitz continued to mumble aloud as he worked through the documents, occasionally pointing out something that had caught his attention, but drawing no closer to the Secessionist plan.  Mariko slept, watched Richardson in his apartment when he returned home after work, and took Mai on a handful of sight-seeing trips that were really reconnaissance missions.  Sumter’s dome was giant, large enough to hide a few spectacular buildings as well as the reinforced concrete apartment blocks; her suspicion that Fitz had ordered them out because he couldn't stand sharing the same set of rooms with them any longer didn't hide her admiration for them.  Halfway through the tour, she realised that she could send a message back home...

...But what could she say?

“Tell them as little as possible,” Fitz advised that evening.  He’d gone out as soon as they’d returned, warning them to keep an eye on Richardson and inform him at once if the traitor received a message.  “The last thing they need is to know the truth.”

She was still mulling it over the following day, when the tap Fitz had inserted into the apartment’s communications network pinged.  Richardson lived a lonely life, she’d come to realise; the only messages he received that were not work-related were from people intent on inviting him to sample new brothels.  He didn't seem willing to go these days, probably because he knew that he was being watched.  His search of the apartment had been incompetent, according to Fitz, and he’d broken off midway through, as if he’d been scared to find anything.  Mariko didn't have much experience in reading faces, but he looked like a man who was on the verge of breaking.

“He’s got mail,” she called over, to Fitz.  He’d brought them tunics that would be worn by class-three humans on Sumter, fashion nightmares in Mariko’s opinion, but too common to arouse much interest.  Besides, she could hide a surprising number of tools below the shapeless outfit.  “It’s the one calling him to a meet.”

“Good,” Fitz said.  He picked up his coat and pulled it on over the tunic.  “You can get to Point Alpha and wait there; I’ll go shadow Richardson and meet up with you at Point Alpha.”

“Assuming he goes there,” Mai pointed out.  “Are you sure you don’t want me to come?”

“Not this time,” Fitz said, firmly.  Someone as...unspoiled as Mai would attract a great deal of attention, even in a shapeless tunic.  “I need you to keep working on the starship schedules; let me know if you see a pattern there.”

Mai didn't look happy – Richardson had created false records for Secessionists, but they didn't all go to the same place – but she accepted it.

“Grab your coat,” Fitz ordered.  “And remember, keep the weapons out of sight unless you have no other choice.  The last thing we need is official attention.”

Chapter Twenty-Three

Point Alpha lay on the vague boundary between the poorest parts of the city and Undercity, where the aliens resided.  It was an area bleak with despair, as thousands of humans had been crammed into a handful of buildings and makeshift slums, all of them knowing that there was no way out of the poverty trap.  If Sumter had been habitable, they could have spread out over the countryside, but instead they were all confined to the domed city.  Mariko saw a dozen prostitutes, both male and female, and a handful of pimps watching them to ensure that they didn't keep their ill-gotten gains.  They all wore shapeless garments that made them look identical, just like her.  The scene would just not have happened on Edo.

She looked up from under her hat as Richardson moved through the streets, walking in a manner that suggested depression.  No one tried to mug him. Mariko couldn't decide if that was because they recognised that he didn't have anything worth taking, or if it was a form of protection extended by his contact.

Or perhaps it was something simpler than that.  He’d been going to brothels whose owners would want him to keep going to brothels.  They might have warned the local thugs that mugging him would have dire consequences.

Behind him, there was no sign of Fitz – but then, he’d warned her that she might not see him.

Turning slightly, she started to follow Richardson, keeping her distance as he walked down into Undercity.  On Edo, there were relatively few aliens; here, it looked like there were more aliens crammed into Undercity than there were on her entire homeworld.  A dozen different alien races were represented within the first few metres, from the elfin Pixies to the brutish Trolls, a race known for their limited intelligence and considerable talent for violence.  The Imperial Navy might have been banned from recruiting aliens for front-line combat forces, but thousands of crime lords were much more equal opportunity.  Most of the Trolls who left their homeworld did so as part of a mercenary operation of one kind or another.

The stink got stronger as she walked further into Undercity.  A floating, dank mist seemed to reach out towards her, only to recoil before it pressed against her skin.

Undercity was hotter than the rest of the city, perhaps because it was close to the geothermal struts that powered Sumter City.  A long trickle of warm water ran down the middle of the street, heading towards a pond that had been filled with alien life forms.  Not all of the aliens in the Imperium were humanoid.

Richardson paid no attention to the aliens, which watched him with sullen expressions, or the handful of salesmen who attempted to convince him to buy handmade souvenirs from Undercity.  Mariko ignored them as best as she could, too, although it was hard to turn down a Pixie when he looked at her with wide, innocent eyes.  The child-like aliens were surprisingly popular on Homeworld, at least among younger humans.  But they’d never managed to translate it into political power, and they never would.

Richardson stopped outside what looked like another diner, set inside a surprisingly clean set of buildings, and knocked once on the door.  It took Mariko a moment to realise that money talked, even in Undercity.  Those who ran the brothel would have enough money to ensure that they lived like kings, while the rest of the alien population suffered.

Mariko hesitated as the door opened and Richardson stepped inside.  Before she could react, she sensed movement behind her and tensed, one hand dropping to the pistol she’d concealed inside her overalls.  A hand caught hers and she looked up to see a stranger looking back at her.  Only the eyes clearly identified him as Fitz.

“He went inside,” she muttered, grimly aware that there might be eyes watching everywhere.  There were aliens who enjoyed living in the sewers, assuming that Undercity had sewers.  The stench suggested otherwise.  “What do we do now?”

“I managed to get him to take a wire,” Fitz muttered back.  He was listening to the chatter inside through an earpiece.  “His contact is busy complimenting him on his last great success.”

Mariko scowled.  Richardson’s last success had involved rewriting computer files so that various people who boarded shuttles and starships for interstellar trips had no longer officially taken those trips.  The Imperium was a vast producer and consumer of data, with a bureaucracy that insisted on having all forms filled out in triplicate, but what could even the most sophisticated data analysis program do with garbage data?  They would never be able to discover the missing naval personnel until it was too late.

“Go check to make sure that there’s no other door out onto the surface,” Fitz ordered.  “I’ll keep listening to our friend.”

Mariko nodded and walked around the building, hoping that they weren't watching for watchers themselves.  There seemed to be no other way in or out, not even any windows.  It was possible that one of the walls concealed a hidden escape route, but she couldn't see any sign of it.  She walked back to Fitz, only to hear him muttering to himself.  He looked up at her and smiled, wanly.

“And now he wants a list of shipping schedules,” Fitz said.  He sounded rather perturbed.  “That’s interesting.”

“What?”  Mariko asked.

“He mentioned the Wally West, by name,” Fitz said.  They shared a long glance as Mariko’s blood ran cold.  Interstellar Couriers would be an odd target for the Secessionists, if only because they did have the clout to convince the Grand Senate to dispatch reinforcements to the Sumter Sector.  Or had the Secessionists managed to crack their cover story?  “I think we need to ask them why.”

Several minutes passed before Richardson emerged from the building and headed back towards the human part of town.  “Leave him,” Fitz ordered, already walking forwards towards the door.  “We need to meet his contact before it’s too late.”

Mariko stared at him.  “But there’s no other way out of the building,” she pointed out.  “He has to leave this way, doesn't he?”

“They’ve probably been digging down into bedrock,” Fitz said.  “Last year, part of Undercity collapsed because they’d been digging living space under the area officially assigned to the non-humans.  Sheer luck they didn't crack the dome and kill thousands before it got sealed.”

He shook his head.  “We can't count on anything with them,” he told her, as he produced his sonic screwdriver.  “You can bet that they would have a way out of here if the shit hit the fan.”

There was a whirring sound from the screwdriver and the door opened, to reveal the shape of an angry Troll.  Mariko gulped and stepped back – the Troll looked as if he had been roasted in a large fire and yet was somehow still alive – but Fitz held his ground.  The Troll couldn't be Richardson’s contact, could he?  No – he’d specifically said that his contact was human.

Fitz lifted one hand, flexed it in a pattern that caught the Troll’s piggish eyes, and then slammed the other hand right into the Troll’s throat with augmented force.  The blow would have killed an unprotected human, but the Troll only stumbled backwards, one hand grasping for the club he wore at his belt.  Fitz smiled, feinted again, and then poked the Troll right in the eye.  The Troll lashed out with staggering force, but Fitz was never quite where the Troll thought he would be.  It was a matter of minutes before the Troll was lying on the ground, groaning.

“And stay down,” Fitz snarled, as he drew his pistol.  “Richardson’s signal came from...”

There was a crash up ahead and a set of alien females – close enough to human to be instantly recognisable as female – ran out and right at them, carrying a set of makeshift weapons in their hands.  Fitz shot the first one neatly through the head, then ran at them and sliced through them with carefully-calculated strength.  Mariko felt distinctly useless as he finished knocking the last alien to the floor, shaking his head at their clothing.  What sort of monster would want an alien woman wearing a solid gold bikini?

The next room held an alien who looked like a giant slug and a human, holding something that reassembled a sensor wand in one hand.  “Stop,” Fitz snapped, as he burst into the room.  “You are all under arrest...”

He stumbled backwards as the wand produced a spray of plastic that covered his upper body.  Mariko lifted her weapon, unsure of what to do – and the moment of hesitation almost killed her.  The human slapped her pistol out of her hand and backhanded her, sending her crashing to the floor.  Her hand hurt so badly that she suspected the slap must have broken something, perhaps a bone or two.  All the genetic modification in the universe couldn't prevent broken bones.

The giant slug was still inching towards the exit and Fitz was still down on the floor, struggling against something Mariko could only vaguely see, a thin sheen that appeared to have covered his body.  She used her left hand to pick up the pistol and point it at the slug, who seemed to stop and wave both hands in the air as if it were trying to surrender.  Without a proper voder, it was likely to be unable to talk to her and announce its surrender formally.  But with speed like that, it wasn't going to be a major threat without some help – or augmentation.  She couldn't see how a creature like that could even have evolved without some tinkering back in the early days of creation.

She reached for Fitz...and swore as she felt something translucent gripping at her hands.  It was a capture web, she realised, something designed to immobilise an augmented opponent without risking life and limb.  The more Fitz struggled, the harder the capture web would grip at him until he was completely stuck.  And she didn't know how to get it off him!

Fitz lifted one hand and pressed it against his mouth, which was covered by the filmy substance.  He had to be having trouble breathing, she realised, and his augments wouldn't be able to keep him alive forever.  It wasn't as if he was a full cyborg.  There was a flash of red light as his implanted laser burned through the material and freed his mouth.  The webbing seemed to recoil, but then it started to expand again, almost as if the laser had supercharged it.

“Water,” Fitz gasped.  “Get the water from the pool...”

Mariko followed his pointing finger and saw a pool of slimy water under where the slug had been sitting and ran over to pick it up.  She didn't know what to do with it – and the webbing had covered most of Fitz’s body – so she settled for splashing the disgusting liquid over him and hoping.  It worked; the capture webbing dissolved rapidly, setting Fitz free.  He stumbled to his feet and pulled off most of the remaining webbing before it could dry and start trying to capture him again.

“Thank you,” he said, seriously.  “I never anticipated a capture net.  That would have been the end of me if you hadn't been there.”

Mariko felt herself glowing with praise, just before Fitz glanced at her sore hand.  “The bastard broke several bones,” he said, prodding it lightly while Mariko tried her best not to scream.  Improved pain resistance was supposed to be part of the modification package, but it didn't seem to be working very well.  “I can fix them on the ship, but we might have to take you to a hospital here and come up with a cover story for your injuries.”

He looked over at the slug.  “Where did your friend go?”

The slug belched, emitting a stench that made Mariko stumble backwards as she cradled her damaged hand.  “No voder,” Fitz muttered.  He pointed his pistol right between the slug’s eyes.  “Move from this room and you’re dead.”

He led the way outside before Mariko could say anything, checking through the rooms in the brothel.  The sound of panic from high overhead caught his attention and he slipped upstairs, running into a group of naked humans, both male and female, who seemed convinced that there was a raid underway.  Their panicking would provide a perfect cover for the Secessionist agent, Mariko realised.  He could be in the midst of them and no one would ever notice.

Fitz boosted his voice until he drowned out everyone else.  “Get down to the main lobby and wait there,” he ordered.  “Anyone who attempts to leave will be charged with gross indecency and giving aid and comfort to the enemy.  Move!  No, don’t bother to get dressed first – move!”

Still protesting and complaining, the naked humans shuffled downstairs.  They’d all have to be checked, of course, Mariko know; if Richardson could be blackmailed so effectively, so could the rest of them.  She looked for a familiar face among the brothel’s customers, but she didn't see the Secessionist agent.  But her memory might be hazy; she’d barely had a look at him before he’d slapped her down and vanished.  He might even have fled out the door and run into Undercity before she’d managed to free Fitz from the capture web.

“Perhaps,” Fitz muttered, as they started moving from room to room.  Most of them held an alien female of some kind, although a couple held males and one held a spider-like alien who was utterly inhuman.  Mariko didn't want to imagine how mating between her – if it was a female – and a human might have proceeded.  One room held a set of canes, whips and paddles, something she puzzled over until she remembered one of her ex-boyfriends and his odd tastes.  Who would pay to have his bottom whipped?  “But he doesn't know that we are alone.”

The next room was completely empty, without even a bed.  Fitz checked it carefully, looking for something he didn't seem to want to talk about, before finally deciding that the room was as empty as it seemed.  But the moment he was outside, he slipped along the corridor wall and started to tap away at it.  Mariko watched in confusion as he slipped into the next room, took a brief look at the wall, and then walked back to the first room.  It didn't seem to make any sense.

“That wall is really too thick to be real,” Fitz said, by way of explanation.  “There’s almost two meters of solid concrete between this room and the next room – does that seem reasonable to you?”

“No,” Mariko said.  Planet-side construction wasn't her strong suit, but reinforced concrete had survived so long because it was strong.  There was no reason to make a wall two meters thick when it would cost far more than anyone would be willing to spend.  “Why would anyone do that?”

“They wouldn't,” Fitz said.  “I bet you dinner tonight that there’s a gap in this wall – and a hidden chamber....ah.”

There was a click, the hidden door slid open, and...something burst out of the door, moving with blinding speed.  Fitz lunged forward, supercharging his own augmented muscles, lashing out at his opponent.  They were moving so fast that Mariko couldn't tell them apart, or fire at them for fear that she would hit Fitz.  Both combatants seemed to be evenly matched – and then the Secessionist managed to hit Fitz neatly in the chest.  Fitz staggered backwards, giving the agent a chance to turn and run for his life.  Mariko started to follow him, only to be pushed to one side by Fitz as he ran with augmented speed.  Clutching her damaged hand, Mariko followed him, only to watch them both blazing down the corridor and smashing right through the plaster at the far end.  Part of the building’s wall had to have been faked, she realised dimly, just before she heard the sound of someone opening fire with automatic weapons.  Fitz hadn't been carrying one, had he?

Carefully, she advanced forward until she could peer out of the hole they’d torn in the plaster.  Black-clad men were appearing from the surrounding buildings, advancing on the brothel with weapons raised and ready.  There was no sign of Fitz at all.  They had to be Secessionists, she realised, and yet how could they have moved an entire army onto Sumter?  And they were all human...she slipped backwards as she heard crashes and shouts of outrage from below.  They weren't Secessionists, but Civil Guardsmen or Imperial Intelligence.  What did she do now?  If Fitz had been there, he would have known what to do...

She heard the sounds of running footsteps coming up the stairs and saw a pair of heavily-armed men swinging round to look at her.  “Drop the weapon, now,” the leader snapped.  Mariko hesitated, and then complied.  “Turn around and put your hands on your head!”

A moment later, she screamed in pain as she was cuffed and searched, with all of her tools removed.  They didn't seem to care about her damaged hand.  There was a long pause while they sorted through her possessions, which ended with an audible gasp when they found the Imperial Intelligence ID card.  Mariko almost snickered at how quickly they undid her cuffs once they had checked the card.  Arresting someone working for Imperial Intelligence was not a good way to enjoy a long and happy career.

“I think you’d better come downstairs,” the lead agent said.  He sounded rather discomforted.  A complaint from Mariko could end his career...but it couldn't, because she wasn't a genuine agent.  Fitz had told her to be as arrogant as possible if she had to use the card.  Real agents were always convinced that they were the lords and masters of creation.  “We may have arrested your subordinate as well.”

Chapter Twenty-Four

“I am Colonel Prather, Imperial Intelligence,” a heavyset man said. He was about ninety, Mariko guessed, although it was hard to tell when someone’s face had been rebuilt several times.  At least he didn't have the absurdly young appearance of someone who had been entitled to rejuvenation treatments from a very early age.  “What the hell do you mean by operating in my patch?”

Fitz met his rage calmly.  “As a Priority-One Operative, my patch is the entire Imperium,” he said.  He didn’t sound angry, although he’d had several sharp things to say about the agents who had added to Mariko’s pain.  He’d managed to ensure that they stopped in a medical chamber before facing the senior intelligence operative on Sumter.  “I was under no obligation to inform you of my presence or my operations.”

“Except for the minor detail that your operation and my operation collided,” Prather snapped back at him.  “We have had that nest of Secessionists under observation for the last few months, waiting to see who would make contact with them.  And then you go blundering in and wreck months of careful surveillance.”

“Except it wasn't that careful,” Fitz pointed out.  “You missed at least one enemy operative working in the Sector Government.  How many others were missed, or deliberately ignored...?”

Prather seemed to lean forward on his hands.  “Are you accusing me of working for the enemy?”

“I merely note that your surveillance missed at least one person working for the enemy,” Fitz said.  “I think that you need to investigate your own ranks – someone either missed the operative’s presence, or managed to suppress it for their benefit.  Who in your office might be working for the Secessionists?”

There was a long pause.  “I would have thought that they were all loyal,” Prather said, finally.  “But if you’re correct...”

“I made a deal with Richardson, after uncovering him by chance,” Fitz said.  “I suggest that you send a couple of trustworthy agents to pick him up, bring him in and then start the standard procedure for interrogating captured spies.  Once that’s done, you can arrange for his exile to a reasonably harmless world.  Amish, perhaps.  He couldn't cause any trouble there.”

Prather’s lips worked, angrily.  “It sticks in my craw to have to make deals with scum like him,” he said, bitterly.  “I never made a deal with him.”

“I did,” Fitz said, sharply.  “And if we should happen to acquire a reputation for not dealing honestly with people, how many others are going to willingly make deals with us?”  He shook his head.  “There is a priority here, Colonel.  That’s tracking down the Secessionists on this planet and dismantling their network piece by piece.  Richardson is useless to them now – they’ll know that he’s blown.  I think we had better watch out for attempts on his life, to shut him up before he can start talking.”

“Understood,” Prather said, sourly.  He looked up at Fitz.  “You do realise that I will be making an official report to Baron Yu about your failure to cooperate with my investigation?”

“I could also make a report about your failure to realise that you had been penetrated so badly,” Fitz said.  “I suggest that we hold off on angry missives until we actually manage to discover just how badly the local station has been...compromised.  I’d call for a team of inspectors if I were you, perhaps after you shuffle a few people to less sensitive posts.”

They locked eyes.  “Goddamn special agents,” Prather muttered, finally.  “You come in here and think that you know this place backward.”

“We have a reputation to keep,” Fitz said.  He smiled, charmingly.  “And now we’re the best of friends, might we start comparing notes?  Perhaps we should start by considering who else might have fallen prey to blackmail.”

Prather nodded, slowly.

“I’m taking direct command of the investigation myself,” he said.  Mariko guessed that that was unusual, judging by Fitz’s complaints about how paperwork turned good agents into babbling morons.  “As you can see” – he opened a file and spread the pictures out on the desk – “there are serious security implications in the brothel’s clientele.”

“It certainly seems that way,” Fitz said.  By now, Imperial Intelligence had identified everyone who’d been arrested in the brothel, even if it hadn't been able to hold them for long without formally charging them.  “My, my; the Special Assistant to the Governor, a senior Imperial Navy Commodore, two heavy-duty businessmen who should know better than to get into bed with the Secessionists...”

He shrugged as he skimmed through the remaining file.  “And we have no way to know if they have been compromised or not,” he added.  “And what about the small fry?  Richardson was small fry and he managed to create a security nightmare all on his own.”

“They will all be investigated,” Prather assured him, “but the bigger fish have political friends who would go to bat for them if I tried to hold them longer than the allotted time span.”

“We could just charge them with Conduct Unbecoming,” Fitz pointed out, before shaking his head.  “But that charge wouldn’t really stick, would it?”  He smiled, thinly.  “Confront them all with the evidence, offer to bury the fact that they have been fucking alien women – for a certain value of women – in exchange for them taking loyalty tests.  If they refuse to take the tests, you would have grounds to confront their political allies with their nightly activities and probably destroy their political support.  I can't see the Governor being too happy with his Special Assistant after all this, can you?”

“Risky,” Prather observed.  “It could create a political stink.”

“So could the security nightmare created by a bunch of Secessionists operating right in the heart of the Sector Capital,” Fitz snapped.  “Deal with fallout first, and you might not have to worry about political blowback.”

“I hope you’re right,” Prather said.  “And my misguided fellow agents?”

“I suggest you start baiting traps,” Fitz said.  “Now...seeing you were kind enough to kill my dance partner, what do you know about him?”

***

“He’s one of ours,” the doctor said, as he pulled back the covering over the body.  Mariko had seen dead bodies before, but there was something inhuman about this one.  Five bullets had gone through his chest and head and yet, according to the reports, he’d kept trying to fight until his augments had lost the ability to keep him going.  “The augmentation he was given is identical to that used by Pathfinders and Marine Force Recon operatives.  He doesn’t seem to have the biomods given to augmented intelligence officers, which at least allows us to narrow down his origin a little.”

“But not enough,” Fitz said.  He sounded tired and unhappy.  It took Mariko a moment to realise that the man he’d fought had almost been a brother, a fellow augmented human.  “Can you pull a serial number off his implants?”

“I’m afraid not,” the doctor said.  “The moment they registered his brain death, they activated a suicide program that turned all of the recognisable components into dust.  That includes his ID chip and any programs his superiors might have used to contact him.  They also inflicted considerable damage to his genome.  Getting a clear DNA pattern to compare against the records may be impossible.”

“Keep working on it,” Fitz ordered, quietly.

Mariko put her hand on his shoulder, trying to provide support.  “How many augmented soldiers have been lost in the last two decades?”

“Hundreds,” Fitz said.  “Nearly seventy on Han alone – and believe me, that was the most shocking loss rate for the Pathfinders in recorded history.  Most of the records are highly classified; some of the nastier terrorist groups have developed a habit of locating the families of augmented soldiers and going after them.  I’d have to fire a request back to Homeworld to get them to check their records...”

“Start with personnel lost in shuttle crashes,” Mariko said, remembering what Richardson had been doing to the computer files.  “Or could someone have wiped him out of existence completely?”

“I doubt it,” Fitz said.  “All of those records are read-only, unless someone has developed a technique that can somehow rewrite sealed crystal records.  Even the later additions only cover the first files – they don’t overwrite them.  No, we’d find our mystery friend somewhere in the files; we’d just have to know him when we saw him.”

Mariko nodded, remembering the pain of her broken wrist.  “How...how could someone who was considered loyal enough to the Imperium to be granted combat augmentation turn on it?”

“All kinds of possibilities,” Fitz said, as he turned away from the body and started to study what little the local station had turned up on the augmented Secessionist.  “Perhaps he was ordered to do something he considered really raw and decided to desert rather than obey orders.  Or perhaps he decided the Secessionists had a point and deserted to offer them his services instead of the Imperium.  Or he might have fallen in love with a woman on a colony world, one of the hundreds trying to get out from under the crushing weight of corporate exploitation and Imperial taxation.  They’ve all happened, over the years.

“Giving people augments is always a gamble.  Some start thinking that they’re superhuman and don’t have to abide by society’s laws any longer.  Others find that they can no longer close their eyes and ears to short-term problems caused by the Imperium.  You need people honest enough with themselves to keep themselves in check, but those people are also the most likely to question orders, particularly when the orders seem to have...unfortunate effects on the local population.  And then they start feeling mutinous.”

He flipped through the file thoughtfully.

“Prather’s team did a good job,” he said, reluctantly.  The mystery augment had had to go through customs when he landed on Sumter and they’d recorded his fingerprints, every time.  Checking through the records had revealed that he’d come in from a starship that hailed from Paradise, every time.  And, three days after he arrived, he left, heading back to Paradise.  “He can’t be going much further, or he would have had no time to keep his schedule with Richardson.”

Mariko followed his line of logic.  “You think there has to be a Secessionist base on Paradise?”

“I think it’s the most likely possibility,” Fitz said.  “Paradise is not known for keeping good records and they pay as little homage to the Imperium as they can get away with.  It will be a good place to continue our investigations.  Prather and his men can finish up here; I’ll see to it that he gets some help from higher authority, once I message home.

“But approaching Paradise will be tricky,” he added.  “The Secessionists might have realised that there is a link between the Wally West and the Bruce Wayne.  They were interested in the Wally West...”

Mariko remembered him commenting on that, back before they’d charged into the building and almost lost their lives.  “Why?”

“A fast courier ship might be very useful if one wanted to coordinate operations across an interstellar scale,” Fitz said.  “Or they might have realised that it was nothing more than a cover identity and there wouldn't be any fallout from Interstellar Couriers.”

He shook his head.  “The only person who could have told us is dead,” he said, nodding at the body on the table.  “An accident...but that doesn't make it any easier to handle.  It will look bad on my record – and Prather’s, of course.  Fratricide is a risk in intelligence operations, but this time it could have cost us badly.”

“Sir,” the doctor said.  “You might want to take a look at this.”

Fitz walked over to the body and peered down at its neck.  “What is it?”

“There's a microscopic tattoo here,” the doctor said.  He pointed a scanner at it and displayed its take on the main screen.  A tiny globe and anchor shimmered into view.  “What is that?”

“An Imperial Marine icon,” Fitz said, grimly.  He looked down at the body, thoughtfully.  “At least we can narrow the search a little.”

“Unless he was a poser,” the doctor pointed out.

“Not with that level of augmentation,” Fitz said.  “You can't get anything like it on the civilian market, even out along the Rim.  That’s why genetic engineering is so popular in the civilian world.  They just can't get the augmentation.”

“So he was a Marine,” Mariko said.  She remembered watching a recruiting film when she’d been thinking about ways to rebel against her parents.  “I thought Marines were incorruptible.”

“I’m sure this one was, too,” Fitz said, bitterly.  “He just saw the crimes committed in the name of the Imperium and couldn’t look away.”

***

Mai surprised Mariko with a hug when they returned to the hotel, even going so far as to throw her arms around Fitz as well.  Fitz took it like a gentleman, managing to disengage himself at the earliest possible opportunity.  Some of Mariko’s ex-boyfriends wouldn't have been so gentlemanly.

“I thought that you were both dead for sure,” she exclaimed, as she helped Mariko out of her worn clothes.  The Imperial Intelligence officers hadn't offered them a change of clothes, which might either have been a subtle insult, or a recognition that the undeclared agents might need to slip back to the hotel undetected.  “I lost the signal when you went into the intelligence building and I was all set to come after you, but...”

“Be glad you didn't,” Fitz said.  He settled down on the bed, rubbing his face with his hands.  “Colonel Prather would not have been happy to see you invading his headquarters, even with an ID card that marked you as a Priority-One agent.”

He shook his head again.  “Mariko, I owe you an apology,” he said, sounding tired.  “I led you into a very dangerous situation because I underestimated my opponent.  If you want to slap me, I will understand...”

“I’ll beat you with a stick later,” Mariko promised him, mischievously.  “It wasn't your fault.”

“In hindsight, I should have been more careful, perhaps tried to recruit help from the local station,” Fitz admitted.  “I just assumed that Prather was dirty and couldn't be trusted.”

“How do you know he can be trusted now?” Mariko asked, frowning.

“I don’t,” Fitz said.  He looked up at her.  “He lost his chance to gun us both down and swear blind that it was an accident, a case of mistaken identity – such things are common when two operations, working the same problem from two different angles, collide.  But he could still be dirty.  His outrage at our operation could easily have been shock that he came so close to being exposed.  I would prefer not to have to deal with him more than necessary.”

Mariko grinned.  “Is that why you carefully didn't tell him that we have Richardson’s files?”

“You noticed,” Fitz said, grinning back at her.  “I may have to consult with Baron Yu and my...other…supporters before handing them over to Prather – perhaps copying them first so we can continue to work on them ourselves.  Prather will throw a fit about how we’re concealing data and he would be right, dirty or clean.”

“I know where we’re going next,” Mai announced, firmly.  “Paradise!”

Both Fitz and Mariko looked at her in surprise.  Fitz recovered first.  “And what makes you say that?”

“Well, since you two left me alone, I just kept number-crunching,” Mai said, a trace of resentment in her voice.  “I worked my way through all the records that Richardson was ordered to erase, seeing I figured that those were the records that had something to hide.  It took me some time to see the pattern, but half of them went directly to Paradise from Sumter.”

“Not bad,” Fitz said.  “Where did the rest go?”

Mai smiled widely.

“Apart from two exceptions,” she said, “they went to Pechanga, Marius’s World and Freeland.  All three of them are barely ten light years from Paradise.  My guess is that they changed liners there, probably without ever setting foot on their official destinations, and headed onwards to Paradise.  It wouldn't have meant more than a couple of days delay.”

“And it would have left a false trail for anyone following them,” Fitz said.  “Where did Richardson change the records to say they were going?”

“He didn't,” Mai said.  She held up one of the datapads she’d used to read the copied records.  “He just wiped them completely.”

“And so anyone trying to follow up on it would have decided that they’d bought passage on a freighter,” Fitz muttered.  “Something which is damn near impossible to track, which is why so much attention is paid to arriving freighters.”  He smiled at Mai.  “Not bad; not bad at all.”

Mai’s smile could have lit up the entire room.

“We’ll leave tomorrow morning, but we won’t go directly to Paradise,” Fitz ordered.  “Once we get to the ship, we’ll set a course for Marius’s World.  Almost as corrupt as Paradise, and with a great deal less reason.  I think we’re going to need a new disguise before we go any further.”

He smiled, rather coldly.  “Get some sleep, but make sure you’re up early tomorrow morning,” he added.  “Knowing the customs here, we could spend hours being cleared for transit through the wormhole to Marius’s World.”

“Yes, dad,” Mariko said.

Fitz chuckled at the weak joke.  “And once we’re in orbit, remind me to take a proper look at your hand,” he said.  “I don’t trust half the doctors on the surface these days.  You never know who credited them and confirmed that they were actual doctors.”

“But they worked for Imperial Intelligence,” Mariko protested.

“You haven’t met all of the doctors who work for Imperial Intelligence,” Fitz said, darkly.  “When they get together, they’re more murderous than an entire Marine Division armed to the teeth.”

Chapter Twenty-Five

“We’re still having to wait,” Mai called. “I think we’re at least number nineteen.”

“Typical,” Fitz commented.  “I wonder who bribed the dispatcher to let them move ahead in the list.”

The trip up from Sumter had been surprisingly quick, which puzzled them all.  Fitz’s best guess was that Colonel Prather had figured out their cover identities and quietly ordered the customs officials to expedite their departure.

Mariko shivered slightly as he moved a tiny scanner over her hand.

“They did a good job of repairing the damage,” he said.  “Some minor swelling, but a brief injection of nanites will help deal with that.”  He opened a secure cabinet and removed an injector and a tiny tube of nanites.  It was chilling to realise that there were billions of the tiny machines inside a tube smaller than her little finger.  “And how about your mental health?”

“You heard me screaming,” Mariko said.  It wasn't a question.  She’d had nightmares the previous night, and woke up with Mai trying to comfort her.  “Is that common in the intelligence world, too?”

“More common among analysts than operatives,” Fitz said. “They’re the ones who sit around dreaming up horror stories from tiny fragments of enemy operations, often demanding a bigger budget from the Grand Senate in the hopes of fixing even a tiny percentage of the gaping holes in our defences.  The bastards normally turn to coffee, drink and drugs in the hopes of stopping the nightmares.”

He finished programming the nanites and pushed the injector against Mariko’s hand.  There was a tiny sting, then nothing as the machines were shot into her bloodstream.  The nanites would carry out their work and then disintegrate, leaving no trace behind.

He shrugged.  “A psychologist would probably say that you should be on the bench for a while, but I’ve never had any faith in a profession that can twist a perfectly ordinary dream into a mental condition requiring years upon years of expensive therapy.  How do you feel?”

“I want to see this through to the end,” Mariko said, standing upright.  “How about yourself?”

“I don’t think it ever ends,” Fitz admitted.  “Being in the Guards was simple compared to operating as a trouble-shooter out here, along the Rim.  At least then I didn't have to worry about a knife in the back.”

Mariko nodded.  “I meant to ask you.  Can an unaugmented person defeat someone who has been augmented?”

“Not unless the augmented person deliberately wants to lose,” Fitz said, after giving her a sharp look that suggested he was questioning her motives.  “Even the merest form of augmentation includes massive strength enhancement and neural computers to help the augmented man come to terms with his new status.  We used to have a whole string of incidents when newly-augmented personnel would shake hands with unaugmented personnel and accidentally crush their hands because they didn't fully understand their own strength.  Now, we push them through all kinds of tests and simulations first before letting them out into the real world.”

“Sounds like fun,” Mariko said, dryly.

“It was a nightmare,” Fitz said.  “They treat you as a child with superhuman strength, a mixture of fear and condescension.  Every test has to be completed. If you refuse to cooperate, you can be threatened with having your augments removed.”  He shook his head.  “More advanced augments get reinforced muscles and bones, quick-healing nanotech, implanted weapons...even some experimental systems that allow them to exist unprotected in space for a time.  The laws against creating new cyborgs are bent in our case, for all sorts of reasons.  Some of the really dangerous augments have battle-analysis software in their minds.  They run through a thousand possible versions of a fight before they throw the first punch.”

Mariko looked over at him and saw the pain on his face.

“The whole process hurts,” he added.  “They don’t tell you that until it’s too late.”

“I’m sorry,” Mariko said, honestly.  “I didn't realise.”

“It isn't something commonly advertised,” Fitz said, dryly.  He shrugged.  “If your unaugmented fighter is allowed weapons, it gets a little easier.  Even the fastest augment can't outrun a laser beam, or see it coming before it hits.  Automated sentry computers can respond to augmented speed far quicker than a flesh and blood human brain.  Tricks like capture webbing can turn an augment’s strength into a weakness; I would have been in deep shit without you being there earlier.  And the right sort of suppression field could neutralise most of the implants without actually harming the augmented person.  Augments aren't superhuman – hell, do you know the percentage of the population that can actually take the full augmentation package?”

Mariko shook her head.

“Less than a percent of a percent,” Fitz admitted, as he stood up.  “Which should give us a few million out of the Imperium’s trillions, but it doesn't seem to be that easy.  The precise number of augments is classified...yet I’d be surprised if there were more than five hundred thousand running around in the entire Imperium.  Nowhere near enough to solve all of our woes.”

“And some of them think they can solve all of our woes,” Mariko guessed.

“It’s happened,” Fitz agreed.  “The Cyborgs of Calculus should have shown us the danger in that line of thinking, but some augmented men aren't smart enough to realise that it’s a recipe for disaster.  As if we didn't have enough problems.”

He helped her to her feet and turned his back as she pulled her shipsuit back on.

“I think your sister is getting impatient up there,” he added, as he headed for the hatch.  “We’d better go help her before she gets suspicious.”

Mariko rolled her eyes.  Men!

***

There seemed to be a small armada of ships making their way from Sumter to Marius’s World, something that puzzled Mariko until she realised that they probably didn't intend to stop at the notoriously corrupt planet.  Using the wormhole would get them across thirty light years in a split second, making it impossible for them to be intercepted by pirates or hijacked by various resistance movements.  The simplest way to hijack a passenger liner was still to get infiltrators on board in the disguise of passengers or staff, which was at least partly why the Imperium searched passengers carefully.  A team of hijackers could fly their captured prize to a desolate star system where it could be looted at leisure, before being dispatched into the sun or simply abandoned in an unstable orbit.

“They’ve given us clearance,” Mai said, as they entered the bridge.  “Finally!  What were they doing over there with themselves?”

“As private parts to the customs officers are we, they play with us for their sport,” Fitz intoned, dramatically.  Mariko shot him a sharp glance before realising that he was still technically their boss, even if he was also their friend.  “Someone probably just kept offering bribes to get earlier transit clearance, while those of us who decided to be honest had to wait.”

The wormhole appeared in front of them and – again – there was an uncanny sense of falling, before they popped out on the far end.  Here, there were almost no Imperial Customs Officers enforcing the Imperium’s laws, just a pair of gunboats that tried to keep traffic from ramming each other.

Mariko took the helm and steered towards Marius’s World, unsure why they wouldn't try to take advantage of the wormhole in their sector.  But it wouldn't have been particularly politic, she told herself.  Marius the First might have been a ruthless bastard with his eye on the Imperial Throne, but his descendents knew better than to irritate the current Emperor – and the Grand Senators who controlled him.  They’d be squashed like bugs if they decided they wanted to try to make another bid for the Imperium.

According to the official history, Marius I had believed that he had a better claim to the Imperium than the other descendents of Montgomery I, who had ended the Warlord Era by being a more ruthless bastard than the rest of them combined.  His coup plot had rested more on unquestioned assumptions than actual planning, with the net result that his scheme to seize Homeworld and the Home Fleet had never had a hope of getting off the ground.  The Emperor at the time had ordered Marius and most of his family exiled to a world named after him, rather than the standard bloody purge that followed an unsuccessful rebellion.  Mariko hadn't been able to figure out why Marius had been spared; the official story, that his mother was a close friend of the Emperor’s mother, didn't seem sufficient, somehow.  Marius had even been granted a Dukedom in perpetuity, one he could pass down to his children and their children, providing they never left the planet.

“I think it was probably the Emperor’s idea of a cruel joke,” Fitz said, when Mariko asked out loud.  As an aristocrat, he would have access to more honest histories than herself.  “They would once have been able to travel over two thousand light years for lunch.  Now they are confined to a single world, unable even to leave...a very cruel joke.  And he may have believed that the other colonists would kill their new overlords.”

Mariko nodded.  The Emperor hadn't been content with exiling them to a distant world and forgetting about them.  He’d found them a colony population by the simple expedient of offering all the condemned prisoners on Homeworld a chance to move to Marius’s World instead of being executed.  Marius would have found himself stripped of his protection, facing a population that bitterly resented him once they realised that they, too, were trapped.

And yet somehow he had managed to turn Marius’s World into a success, of sorts.  His successors might not be able to leave the planet, but they maintained absolute control over the surface and had fingers in every orbital pie.  Thousands of corporations had even moved there to escape the Imperium’s increasingly burdensome regulations.  They could never leave, but they were rich.

“Get a line to one of the local starship dealers,” Fitz ordered, turning her mind back to business.  “Download a list of their stock; we’re looking for a medium-sized freighter, perhaps one large enough to carry the Bruce Wayne in a single hold.  If not, we’ll live with it.”

Mai looked up at him.  “You don’t intend to leave the Bruce Wayne here?”

“Hell, no,” Fitz said.  “I’d prefer to approach Paradise in something a little less noticeable.  The Bruce Wayne can remain in interstellar space, if necessary.”

Mariko keyed a request into the orbital datanet and frowned as she started to navigate through it.  The locals didn't seem to have set up a single datanet, choosing instead to allow a hodgepodge to form from many separate systems.  Navigating it was complicated because it was far less orderly than anything she was used to, even on Dorado.  It took several minutes to discover a search engine and then use it to track down a used starship dealer.  Unsurprisingly, there were a dozen listed in orbit around Marius’s World and five more down on the planet’s surface.

“Ignore the ones on the planet’s surface,” Fitz said.  “They may not have much in the way of customs here, but I’d bet good money that they do have links to the Secessionists.  We don't really want to attract more attention if it can be avoided.”

It was difficult to buy a starship in the Imperium proper because there were hundreds of regulations that had to be complied with for each transaction – or, put differently, dozens of officials to be bribed.  On Marius’s World, they were prepared to issue anyone official papers and sell a starship almost immediately, even though the Imperium had been known to complain loudly about the practice.  Mariko could have bought a gunboat or a destroyer if she’d had the money, although there seemed to be only a handful of military ships on sale.  Maybe the Secessionists were buying them all...

The list of more standard freighters was longer, long enough to force her to start weeding through the possibilities.  Some of the really old freighters needed a full-sized crew to operate, something that Fitz would have probably rejected on sight.  Others were odd designs, ones that would be remembered even by the most jaded shipping companies.  Building starships was an expensive business and few corporations could afford to keep failed designs in a warehouse when they could be sold to someone who didn't care about having a standard design.

And then she let out a yelp of shock.  “It’s the Happy Wanderer!”

Fitz looked over at her.  “It can’t be,” he said.  “The ship was confiscated on Dorado.”

“It’s my ship,” Mariko insisted.  The used starship dealer had provided a complete description, including the pair of replacement engines that Mai had pulled out of a junkyard and spliced into the engine mount.  That was probably why the ship hadn't sold; running engines from two different designs together was complicated unless one had a proper computer system...and the mash-up Mai had created probably didn't inspire confidence in anyone who didn't know her.  “Can we buy her back?  Can we?”

Fitz considered it for a long moment.  “We don’t have time for extensive repairs,” he said, finally.  “You and Mai can visit the ship and see how she functions after a few months in someone else’s hands.  If she can be used without major repairs, we’ll buy her – if not, it will have to wait until after we return from Paradise.”

Mariko wanted to argue further, but one look at Fitz’s eyes convinced her that it would be futile.  “Bloody thieves,” she muttered.  “Why did they bring her over here anyway?”

“Dorado isn't a good place to sell a starship,” Fitz commented.  “Most of the population is dirt poor and those wealthy enough to own a ship probably couldn't maintain it.  Marius’s World would have seemed a much better bet.”  He shook his head.

“We’ll be docking at the main station in less than an hour,” he concluded.  “Remember what I said; we only buy her if we can use her.”

***

“A lovely light freighter with a very caring crew,” the dealer oozed an hour later.  He was human, but most of his staff was not.  Some of them were even from races that were officially confined to their homeworlds.  “Much of her drive frame is unconventional, but she makes up for that in additional speed and automated control systems.”

“Glad to hear it,” Mariko said, carefully resisting the temptation to land a punch right between his eyes.  How dare he try to steal her ship and then sell her as scrap?  “You have had the control routines tested by the most through analysts in the system?”

“I’m afraid that they could not be certified, as they splice together three different sets of code,” the dealer said, quickly.  Mariko knew that was due to Mai’s ingenuity at work.  “However, I am quite sure that they are safe.”

“But you will not be the one who uses the drives,” Mariko said.  Fitz had pointed out several possible angles of attack to use on the dealer.  “I fear I shall demand a reduction in the overall cost of the vessel.”

She stepped onto her bridge and – barely – managed to keep from bursting into tears.  The team that had searched the ship for anything sellable had torn open a dozen consoles, scattered pieces of debris and food wrappings everywhere, and then performed only basic repairs.  They probably hadn't stopped the ship from flying, as most of the control systems were located under the deck, but the consoles would have to be replaced before the ship could be flown safely.  On the other hand, they were interchangeable devices.

“I’m afraid that I am already offering too much of a discount as it is,” the dealer said, quickly.  “I could throw in additional control consoles for the ship...”

“That would be very good,” Mariko said.  “And would you pay for an experienced team of workers to install them?”

The dealer hesitated, clearly trying to decide how much he could gorge from her.  “I think that that would not be included,” he said, finally.  “Experienced tech teams work for very high rates, these days, as I am sure you are aware...”

“But without an experienced team, this ship is nothing more than junk,” Mariko said.  Mai would have slapped her if she’d heard, but she’d gone down to check the engines.  “I expect a discount rate on the experienced repair team – and I will pay a bonus if the work is completed within two days.”

The dealer studied her thoughtfully.  “What sort of bonus?”

Mariko named a sum.  The dealer countered it with one of his own.  They haggled back and forth for several minutes before managing to settle on a compromise.

“I’ll have the repair crew here within the hour,” the dealer said.  “Your ship should be ready by the end of the day.”

Mariko frowned; either he’d managed to trick her into paying more than she needed to pay, or the repair team wasn't particularly busy.  Or perhaps he just intended to pocket the bonus for himself.

He smiled.  “Now, about actual payment...”

“You will be paid once the ship has been taken out and tested,” Mariko said, firmly.  “I’ll pay a small deposit, but you won’t get anything else until the ship has been checked thoroughly.”

The dealer looked offended, almost as if she’d hurt his feelings.  “Are you saying that you don't trust me?”

“Of course not,” Mariko said, as sweetly as she could.  “But you are trying to sell me a ship without a history or an ISR record.  I think I’d like to make sure of what I’m buying before it’s too late.”

With that, she walked down to join Mai in the engine room.  It might take some time, but they had their ship back.  And that made all the difference in the world.

Chapter Twenty-Six

Happy Wanderer and Bruce Wayne hung together in empty space, two light months from the nearest star.  Happy Wanderer hadn't been designed to mate with another starship in empty space, but Mariko hadn’t been surprised to discover that Fitz had an airlock that was capable of adjusting itself to mate with another ship.  Besides, there was no logical reason for that regulation.  It wasn't as if pirates or smugglers couldn't transfer goods through open space to other starships.

Of course, the tech team hadn't been anything like as good as the dealer had led her to expect, but Happy Wanderer was up and running again.  Some of the hidden compartments had even remained undiscovered by the thugs who had taken her ship, thankfully.  Someone might have been in for a rude surprise if they’d purchased her.

“Happy now?” Fitz asked.

“It’s my ship,” she said, with a grin. “You do know how that feels?”

“Vaguely,” Fitz said, “but given that I had to wreck another ship to get out of a nasty trap, I never let myself get too attached to anything.”

There was a warning in that, Mariko decided.  Fitz knew the stakes he was playing for – that they were playing for – and he might have to sacrifice his own life, or theirs, to stop the Secessionists plunging the sector into chaos.  And he also had to wonder if Mariko and Mai wouldn't head out on their own, now that they had their ship back.  Mariko couldn't blame him for wondering, even though it was a little insulting.  She intended to stay with him until the mission was completed, maybe longer.  Imperial Intelligence might be interested in accepting her as a full-time agent.

“Good for you,” she said, tartly, and saw him smile in return.  “Why did you want to purchase so much crap from a dozen different dealers?”

“Starship components aren’t crap,” Fitz pointed out, dryly.  Happy Wanderer had been crammed with starship components, bought through so many dealers and agents that it would be difficult for anyone to put together a complete picture of what he’d bought.  “And they’re just what the Secessionists would like to buy, if they were offered cheaply enough to suggest that we came by them dishonestly.”

Mariko nodded.  The Sumter Sector didn't produce very much for itself, beyond food and a handful of basic components, forcing the inhabitants to order their supplies from the inner sectors of the Imperium.  Between the high prices and taxes, it was often cheaper to buy smuggled goods – or items stolen from convoys by pirates.  But a smuggler could hardly run to the law to complain that someone had cheated him on an illegal deal.

“You seem to have thrown money around like water,” Mariko observed, finally.  “Do you think that that won’t attract attention?”

Fitz looked over at her.  “I have a nasty sense that we’re running out of time,” he admitted.  “The Secessionists might just pull in their horns and go underground, or they might just launch their plan ahead of time.  And I still think that their plan, as far as we understand it, is suicide.”

“But they don’t,” Mariko said, quietly.

“They must think that they have a chance to win genuine independence for this sector,” Fitz said.  “Which leads to a single, obvious question: what are we missing?”

He shook his head again.  “Call Mai up to the bridge,” he ordered.  “I’m afraid that she isn't going to be very pleased with her part of the plan.”

***

Mai wasn’t.

“You can't leave me on the Bruce Wayne all on my own,” she protested.  “I can come with you to Paradise and I won’t fuck up...”

“I’m not saying that you will,” Fitz said, calmly.  “But I am saying that we may need you in position to come charging in to save our lives, again.  And to do that, we need you hiding in the system, waiting for the call.”

“I thought cloaking devices were illegal,” Mai pointed out, snidely.

Fitz managed to look shocked.  “They are?  Details, details.”

He looked at her, seriously.  “I need you to stay in the ship because you’re the most capable of flying her into combat on your own,” he said.

It was true. Mariko was the better flyer, but Mai could fly at the same time she used the ship’s concealed weapons array against multiple simulated targets.  Bruce Wayne could probably take a gunboat, perhaps a destroyer, but anything bigger would probably destroy her if the enemy got a clear shot at her hull.

“And you did save our lives on Greenland,” Fitz said, in a tone of placation.  “We may need you to do it again.”

Mariko watched Mai stamp off to the other ship, and then looked at Fitz.

“She’s going to sulk for hours,” she predicted.  “Don’t you want to risk exposing her or something?”

“She has a remarkable engineering talent,” Fitz reminded her.  “I will recommend her to the Imperium’s Engineering Corps, if we live long enough to return to the Core Worlds.  The Imperium just doesn’t have enough trained engineers these days.  You saw the dome on Sumter.”

Mariko nodded.  From what Fitz had said, the entire Imperium was decaying slowly through a lack of maintenance.  The Imperial Navy hadn't built a new capital ship in decades, no new wormhole junctions had been established since Sumter – even though building one out towards the Snakes might have kept them under control.

Or would it have simply taught them how to make wormholes for themselves?  Humans were the exclusive owners of wormhole technology, but the laws of science worked the same for every known race.  There was no physical reason why the Snakes couldn't develop wormhole theory for themselves and produce their own networks.

“I have a question,” she said.  “Why don’t we just train up more engineers?”

“You want a list of problems?”  Fitz snorted. “Let’s see – the teaching establishment these days isn't very good at actually teaching, so kids don’t really learn very much.  And then there are security concerns about knowledge spreading to the colonies along the Rim, because they might use it against the Imperium.  And then, kids like to have easy days at school where they just regurgitate what the teachers tell them rather than actually thinking about the material.”

He shook his head, bitterly.  “I heard that the ICE actually has to run remedial courses for prospective engineers,” he added.  “Many of the candidates are so useless that they crumple when faced with the actual prospect of having to think.  And that takes engineers away from actually maintaining the Imperium....half of our tech is modular because our people don’t have the experience to know how to fix something.  One tiny flaw, and an entire component needs to be discarded.”

Fitz sat down in front of one of the consoles and motioned for her to take the helm.  “Mai,” he said, keying the communications switch, “follow us through phase space, but cloak the moment we return to normal space.  Hold position until we call you.”

“Understood,” Mai’s voice said, tightly.  She definitely didn't sound very happy.  “Call me as soon as you need me.”

Mariko keyed a pre-programmed switch and the Happy Wanderer’s phase drive came online.  It was nowhere near as smooth as the Bruce Wayne’s drive – they’d had to add additional drive nodes in order to generate a proper phase field – but it felt perfect, almost like coming home.  The inky blackness of phase space yawned open in front of them, sealing the ship off from the rest of the universe.

But not quite.  One glance at the sensors told her that Mai had followed them into phase space.

“She is a good pilot,” Fitz commented, when Mariko pointed it out.  “And besides, anyone scanning us as we return to normal space is unlikely to notice that two ships came out of phase space, not one.”

Mariko nodded as she stood up.  The five hours they’d spent in interstellar space probably wouldn't be noticed by any watching observer.  Interstellar shipping schedules could never be quite guaranteed by anyone, even the finest ships in the Imperial Navy.

“It’s two days to Paradise from here,” she said.  “What are we going to do until then?”

“You implied that you wanted to learn how to fight,” Fitz said.  He leered cheerfully at her.  “Or have you changed your mind?”

“But you said that it was impossible for an unaugmented person to beat an augmented person,” Mariko said, crossly.  “I don’t know what to believe any longer.”

“There’s no such thing as an invincible warrior,” Fitz countered.  “Take it from me.  Anyone can be defeated by someone who refuses to panic when under attack.”

***

“You're sure you’re not cheating?”

Mariko ached, almost everywhere.  Even with his implants stepped down – or so he said – Fitz was stronger and faster than Mariko.  The only time she’d come close to beating him was when she’d used the capture web they’d purchased on Marius’s World, and that hadn't held him down for long.  It took her several tries to realise that the ex-Marine they’d faced on Sumter had managed to stick him to the floor as well as covering his mouth and nose.

“I’m afraid so,” Fitz said.

He was sweating too, although she was sure that he’d kept the pain dampeners online.  She’d managed to hit him in the chest and that should have hurt.

“Why do you think they make military training so harsh?”He answered his own question a second later.  “Because the training pushes you right to your limit and you learn to cope with little things like fear, panic or chaos.  And you learn to push pain to one side, even without a dampening implant.  I once knew someone who kept firing at rebels even though his legs had been blown off by enemy fire.  And he wasn't augmented; he was just a bloody tough soldier.”

Mariko staggered to her feet and glared at him.  “You’re really sure you’re not cheating?”

Fitz started to laugh.

“A few hours of training isn't really enough to turn you into Stellar Star, Heroine of the Space Ways,” he said, dryly.

Mariko flushed.  She’d devoured that show when she’d been a kid, but later experience had shown that it was all terribly unrealistic.  Stellar Star’s fighting style was absurd, particularly in a tight uniform that showed off a pair of breasts too large to be natural.  And her boyfriend, the loyal but dumb Buck, had had muscles on his muscles.

“A few weeks might have you mastering some of the basics,” he told her. “Then you could move on to the next few steps.”

Mariko rolled her eyes at him.  “And how long did it take you to learn how to fight?”

“Months, even before I was augmented,” Fitz said.  “I took being in the Guards seriously, you see.  One of the Sergeants was happy to beat the crap out of me every day for six months, until I learned to defend myself.  I was too stubborn to quit.”

“I wish I felt that stubborn,” Mariko said, sourly.  “Right now, all I know for sure is that I don’t want to piss you off.”

They shared a laugh.

“Get a shower and wipe off the sweat, then get into your shipsuit,” Fitz said.  “We’ll be arriving at Paradise within three hours.”

Mariko nodded dumbly and stumbled down into the ship’s washroom.  After the Bruce Wayne, it was almost unpleasant to go back to sonic showers, but Happy Wanderer didn't have the space to carry a large water tank, even with recycling.  She stripped down, scowled at her reflection in the mirror, and then stepped into the chamber, allowing the vibrations to push the dirt and sweat off her body.  Water would have felt a great deal better, she realised, and then cursed herself.  Fitz had spoiled them by allowing them to use water on his ship.

The timer on the bridge had almost counted down to zero when she returned and took the helm console.  At her suggestion, they’d modified their official records to make no mention of Mai – and to imply, if not confirm, that they’d only just purchased the ship at Marius’s World.  Very few in the Imperium would take that on faith, but Paradise simply wouldn't care.  The inhabitants hated the Imperium with a passion that seemed inexplicable, until one looked at their planet.  Few more ill-named planets existed in the Imperium.

“Ten seconds,” she said.  Fitz didn't even look exhausted by the workout, damn him.  “Are you ready?”

“The IFF is online, but I won’t send it until they ping us,” Fitz said.  “We don’t want to catch their attention by being too efficient.”

The Imperium’s Survey Service hadn't taken a good look at Paradise, leaving the task of conducting a detailed survey to a contractor who had filed a report claiming that Paradise was...well, a paradise.  No one had bothered to check while the settlement rights were being sold off, eventually being purchased by a loyalist group who were too loyal to the Emperor for the Grand Senate’s comfort.  They’d taken sixty thousand people from Homeworld through the wormhole network to Paradise, where they’d discovered – too late – that the contractor had forged the entire report.

Paradise was a remarkably inhospitable world, complete with poisonous seas, deadly animals and a biology that seemed to repel human crops.  Matters had only been worsened when the first reports were quietly ignored by the Grand Senate, something the new settlers assumed was a deliberate attempt to leave them to die.

They’d eventually carved out an enclave on Paradise, but in doing so they had openly rejected the entire Imperium.  Paradise played host to smugglers, pirates and even rebels, ignoring the Imperium’s demands that they did something about the rogue elements in orbit around their world.  The lawsuit over the forged settlement certification was still working its way through the courts, and had done so for the last one hundred and eighty years.

Mariko's eyes opened wide as she took in the sheer level of space activity around Paradise.  There were more freighters in orbit than she’d seen anywhere else in the sector, with over five hundred circling the planet or landing on its surface.  The giant ring the locals had built around their planet, a magnificent construction in its own right, played host to hundreds more, all docked in a neat array.  There wasn't anything like it outside the Core Worlds.

“They needed something vast in orbit,” Fitz said, quietly.  “Every world is supposed to be able to feed itself, but Paradise can't – not without orbital farms and food imported from elsewhere.  The ring provides enough living space for millions of people, as well as space to farm and raise animals.”  He shook his head.  “Malice, or incompetence?”

Mariko blinked.  “I don’t understand?”

“My...mentor used to say that there was no point in looking for malice when incompetence would do to explain something that's gone wrong,” Fitz said.  “Do you think that the settlers were sent here through incompetence, or malice?”

“I don’t know,” Mariko said.  She’d studied the files, both the official histories and the alternate versions Fitz had had with him, but there was no clear answer.  “Incompetence, perhaps?”

There was a chime as the local OTC finally hailed them.  Fitz tapped a switch to send their modified IFF back to the ring.

“Even with the wormholes, ruling something the size of the Imperium is difficult from Homeworld,” Fitz said.  “The smart solution would be to grant all of the worlds internal autonomy and allow them to solve their own problems; hell, they’re the people on the ground.  They should know what needs to be done.”

He snorted.  “But one thing most of the colonies need is a rejection of corporate power, and that will never get through the Grand Senate.  If we could find a simple solution to the whole problem...”

Mariko frowned.  “Is there a solution?”

“I don’t know,” Fitz admitted.  “As God is my witness, I don’t know.”

The console chimed again as another message appeared on the display.  Compared to Sumter, the local customs officials seemed to be slacking off; they only wanted confirmation that the ship wasn't carrying any infectious diseases or a handful of prohibited goods.  Mariko looked at the brief list and shook her head.  She could have raised an entire army without buying anything on the prohibited list.  Fitz confirmed that they were disease free, their status having been checked on Marius’s World.  Mariko doubted that the customs officers would accept that and, moments later, they were informed that they would both be screened before they were allowed to enter the ring proper.

“Typical,” Fitz snarled, without real fire.  “Everyone’s still worried about another Scarlet Plague.”

Mariko found it hard to condemn the planet’s guardians.  Five hundred years ago, a disease had appeared on the other side of the Imperium, infecting seventy worlds before its presence was noted and the Imperium swung into action to contain the threat.  Eventually, a cure and a vaccine had been found, but no one – according to the official histories – had ever located the source of the Scarlet Plague.  It was enough to make someone wonder if the disease had been engineered by an alien race who didn’t like humans.

“We’ve been sent a docking slot,” she said.  “Should we confirm?”

“Yep,” Fitz said.  “And then link us into the local datanet.  It’s time to advertise what we have and see who comes crawling out of the woodwork.”

“You are confident that the Secessionists would want to buy what we’re carrying?”  She scowled.

“They’re building a fleet,” Fitz said.  “No one would want everything we are carrying unless they had a respectable number of starships at their disposal.  We can hedge the advert to make it more enticing to anyone willing to pick up the entire load in a single purchase.  That should discourage buyers unless they want it all.”

Mariko hoped he was right.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

“While we do understand why you would wish to dispose of all of it, I cannot take your entire cargo,” the dealer said.  “I would be willing to make a very sweet offer for the GR-17 control nodes and the Type-IV phase cannons...”

“But not for everything else,” Mariko said, refusing to rub at her stinging arm.  The oily man was getting on her nerves, if only because he kept dropping his eyes to her breasts every other moment.  “Which I am afraid we have to sell.  I’ll take your details – in the event we change our minds, you will be the first person to know about it.”

The dealer dropped her a contact chip – a use-once chip, she noted – and walked away, leaving them in their rented office.

The dealer wasn't the first to inquire about their merchandise. There had actually been an entire string of visitors who were interested, but none of them had wanted all of it.  Unsurprisingly, the weapons and their control systems seemed to be much in demand.  They could have sold them for a handsome profit, if they’d only been on Paradise to make money.

But then, pretty much everyone on the ring surrounding the planet was intent on making money.  Money kept the planet’s limited infrastructure from tipping over into ruin.

“Hang on,” Fitz said.  He’d been allowing her to take the lead again, as the owner-commander of Happy Wanderer, while he’d been playing her crewman, bodyguard and general dogsbody.  “It seems our last friend left us a surprise.”

Mariko rolled her eyes as he used a multitool to remove the bug from the chair and vaporise it.  Knowledge was power on Paradise and it seemed as if everyone wanted power, to judge by the number of bugs that had been covertly left behind in their office.  Luckily, removing the bugs wouldn't alert any of the unseen watchers; anyone who visited Paradise fairly often would know to bring their own bug-detectors and removers.  Or they could buy them remarkably cheaply in the markets scattered through the ring.

“Another shifty bastard selling goods to pirates,” Fitz muttered, after running a second sweep of the room just to be sure.  Paradise’s bug designers were alarmingly ingenious.  “Pity we can’t report him to anyone who might take action.”

Mariko shook her head.  She still found it hard to believe that no one would take action, not when pirates were the scourge of interstellar shipping.  But Paradise didn't give a damn what happened outside its system and it had enough firepower to keep the peace on the ring.  The system prospered by providing neutral ground for smugglers, pirates and secessionists.

“You could just bring in an entire team from the Imperium,” she pointed out.  “A small squadron of warships to stop anyone escaping while you searched the ring...”

“It would be blocked,” Fitz said, sourly.  “Paradise has a remarkable number of friends in high places, people who have been compromised or who come to Paradise to obtain things they just can't get anywhere else.  It’s been proposed, from time to time, that the system should just be occupied and the leadership dumped on a penal world.  The idea never manages to win the official stamp of approval.”

He glanced down at the datapad in his hand.  “So, Captain, we have seven offers on the GR-45 weapons arrays, five offers on the TSR-34 sensor nodes and one suspiciously high offer on the Type-One internal security system.  And our friend who just left probably wants to make his own offer.  It’s a shame we can't sell them all, collect the money, and then vanish before they realise that they have been duped.”

“We could,” Mariko offered.  “Do you think it would be worth the effort...?”

“Breaking a contract isn't a harmless little prank like piracy, rape and murder, not here,” Fitz said.  “We’d have what passes for the local authorities after us, too.  On the other hand, we just can't stay here very long.  The docking fees are eating up our meagre supply of credits.”

Mariko nodded.  A freighter on the ground or docked in orbit wasn't making any money for anyone, apart from the owners of the docking space.  The economics of interstellar trade dictated that a freighter had to spend most of her life moving from star to star, not costing money in a docking port.  Their would-be customers knew that they were hoping for someone to buy them out of everything they’d brought, but they would also know that the longer they waited, the harder it would be to refuse deals for individual parts of their stock.  Mariko’s best guess was that they could wait no more than five days before they had to leave, without purchasing additional supplies from Paradise, or start selling their stock off piece by piece.

Fitz stood up and checked the computer that came with the rented office, no doubt loaded with surveillance software to ensure that the office’s owners knew what was going on inside the machine.  There were two more emails, both requesting afternoon appointments, without any ID header to note their source.  Probably more dealers who crossed the line between the civilised universe and the dark and shadowy world occupied by the pirates.

“Nothing until after lunch,” he said.  “Should we go eat, my Captain?”

Mariko flushed at the stress he put on the words.  The shipsuit she still wore felt grimy against her skin, ever since the medical team had stabbed her with a needle to run a complete bio-check on her.  It seemed remarkably barbaric, until she realised that it was a way to keep visitors from the Imperium reminded that this wasn't really an Imperium world.

“Yes, we should,” she said, pulling herself to her feet.  “Do you think we can get anything to eat here?”

“Oh, I’m sure,” Fitz said.  “The onboard database lists no less than fifty places to eat within five miles.”

Outside the rented officers, the ring buzzed with life.  Countless capsules ran through the tubes connecting one part of the ring to the rest, moving at a speed that would take them around the entire planet in less than an hour.  Thousands of humans rubbed shoulders with aliens, who looked a great deal more uppity than they would on any other world.  Each of the dining places offered food from right across the galaxy, even sushi from Edo.  And the businesses seemed to be cleaner and more welcoming than the places she remembered on Sumter, even the ones that they’d visited officially.

She led him into the sushi parlour.  A taste of home would go down very well, even though they were light years from Edo.

“It’s astonishing what you can do when you decide to throw out most of the rules,” Fitz commented.  “And also what you can do if you don’t tax every start-up business into the gutter.”

Mariko had to smile as she saw the Japanese writing on the menus, and the surprisingly familiar pictures of wide-eyed aliens who decorated the walls.  Feline aliens were common in the Imperium, but she’d never actually met one of the race which had supplied the image for a piece of odd fashion.  Perhaps they’d existed and died out so long ago that they’d been forgotten, or perhaps they’d just been invented out of whole cloth by pre-Imperium humans.  There was no way to know for sure.

“I assume you have some recommendations,” Fitz said.

His fake bio claimed that he’d been born on Darwin, a world known for being almost as horrific as Paradise.  Its principal export was people, people who would eat everything and mate at the drop of the hat because it was the only way to keep their population stable.  There was no shortage of stories about people from Darwin, stories that they probably didn't find very funny themselves.

He lowered his voice, significantly.  “Or maybe the woman watching us over there has a suggestion of her own?”

Mariko had to remind herself sharply to keep her eyes on Fitz, not to look around in a manner that would have betrayed an awareness of their shadow.

The waitress arrived with a brilliant smile.  Mariko ordered for both of them, choosing a sample platter for Fitz.  He most likely wouldn't have had sushi before, but at least he would be able to eat several samples and decide what he liked before ordering again.  For herself, she ordered fish from the Divine River, only seventy miles from their family home.  It might be as close to home as she ever got.

“One woman, with white hair and a very pale face,” Fitz muttered, when the waitress had departed, taking their orders back to the chef.  “She’s been following us since we left the office, but I wasn't really sure until she followed us into here and took up a place where she can watch us.”

Mariko frowned, feeling crosshairs taking aim at the back of her neck.  “You think we ought to go somewhere else?”

“Not yet,” Fitz muttered back.  “I think we ought to wait and see what happens.”

The waitress returned with two trays of sushi, leaving them to dig into the fish.  It tasted surprisingly good, although nowhere near as good as the food her mother had produced for their birthdays, back when they’d both been children.  But the presence of the unseen watcher spoiled the meal. There was no way to know what she had in mind.  Was she a pirate, hoping for a chance to take their cargo by force?  Or a rebel from the Secessionists?  Or perhaps even someone from Imperial Intelligence?

Mariko would have been astonished if there wasn't a covert presence on the planet, quietly monitoring everything and hoping for a chance to strike.  What would happen when Paradise played host to someone so notorious that her friends in the Imperium couldn't overlook it?

“She’s standing up,” Fitz said, very quietly.  “And coming over here.”

Mariko tensed as she heard soft footsteps, just before the woman came into view.  She was breathtakingly beautiful, with a porcelain face, pale white hair and bright white eyes.  For a moment, Mariko wasn't even sure if she was human, before recognising the signs of body-shaping.  Taking on a rather inhuman form was unusual, but it would certainly ensure that whatever her original form had been would pass unnoticed, should she have to revert to it.

“Greetings,” she said, in a soft seductive voice.  Mariko found herself hating her on sight.  “I understand that you have a cargo you wish to sell.”

Mariko bit off the response that came to mind.  “We do,” she said, shortly.  “Are you interested in buying it all?”

“You appear to have bought a lemon,” the woman observed.

The hell of it was that the woman was right, technically.  Anyone looking at their cargo manifest would see a pair of inexperienced shippers who had been taken for a ride by various dealers.  Fitz had assured her that some of the smartest people in Imperial Intelligence worked hard to look like nincompoops, but being taken for an idiot felt personally insulting.  It was worse than when they’d been on Tuff and she’d been taken as Fitz’s whore.

“How long have you two been trading across the stars?” she asked.

“Two weeks,” Mariko lied, tightly.  “We do hope to sell all of our stuff.”

The woman sat down next to Fitz, uninvited.  “I’m sure you do,” she said, with a faint smile that suggested that that was a joke.  “But I’m sure you have realised by now that you cannot hope to sell everything, not individually.  And the stuff you can sell might not bring you enough to get to a different planet and buy more produce you can take elsewhere.  Do you know what happens to debtors on Paradise?”

Mariko did, having taken the precaution of looking it up after running afoul of Dorado’s corrupt law and order establishment.  People who couldn't pay their debts were sent down to the planet to join the endless fight to turn it into a habitable world.  It was a hard life, with no chance of parole; workers died early, only to be buried and replaced by another debtor.

“We could still sell enough to remain here for a few more weeks,” Fitz said.  He sounded insistent, if uncertain.

Mariko kept her smile at his acting skills concealed.

“What do you have to offer us?” he asked.

“My...associates and I would like to buy your entire cargo,” the woman said.

Mariko gaped at her.

“We are also willing to offer you a shipping contract that should bring in some steady income, which is what you two desperately need.”  The watcher smiled, not entirely pleasantly.  “What do you think of that?”

Mariko exchanged glances with Fitz.

“It seems too good to be true,” she said, finally.  Long-term shipping contacts were generally offered to crews with good reputations, or bonded with various shipping corporations.  She’d never heard of one being offered to newcomers.  “What’s the catch?”

The pale lady smiled, more openly.

“You would need to take the cargo onwards to another location, one where you would be met and your ship unloaded,” she said.  “We would pay you, of course, for the travel expenses – and we would offer you the contract, as I said.  You’d only be taking a datachip or two under the terms of the contract, so you would be at liberty to take other cargos as well.”

She shrugged.  “But I’m afraid we need an answer quickly,” she added.  “We’re not that keen to help you get out of the hole you dug for yourselves.”

“I assume that you have a copy of the contract with you,” Mariko said.

The pale lady pulled a datachip reader out of her robes – Mariko wasn't even sure where she’d hidden it – and dropped it on the table.

Mariko picked it up and skimmed through the contract.  It offered a reasonably fair sum for their entire cargo, as well as standard shipping rates for convoying it to an unstated destination.  After that, they would be tapped to serve as data couriers, transporting datachips from world to world.  The rate they would received for their services was low, but fair.

“It looks good,” she admitted.

Fitz took the reader and skimmed through it.  “Very good,” he agreed.  “Where do you want us to take the cargo?”

“Two of my...associates…will be shipping with you,” the pale lady said.  “They will give you the coordinates once you have entered phase space.”

“And I am sure that those associates will be unarmed and as meek as kittens,” Mariko said, sharply.  Even the newly-minted spacer she was claiming to be would know better than to allow strangers onto her ship.  It was still the easiest way to hijack a ship.  “All the money in the galaxy won’t make a difference if we lose the ship to you.”

“You can search them, if you like,” the pale lady assured her.  “They will be unarmed, completely defenceless.  Should we worry about you taking them and flying off in the opposite direction?

“I stick to my contracts,” Mariko said.

“And so do we,” the pale lady countered.  “We will pay you half of the money now, up front, and leave the rest in escrow on Paradise.  Whatever else you may have heard about the system, it does not allow crooks to manipulate the system.  The money will be lost to us whatever happens.”

Mariko looked at Fitz, who nodded, very slightly.

“We accept your terms,” she said.  “When do you want us to leave?”

“This evening, local time,” the pale lady said.  “I suggest that you send your regrets to your other prospective buyers.  It’s simply good manners.”

She stood up and walked out of the diner, swinging her hips from side to side.  Mariko looked over at Fitz, who tapped his lips.  The pale lady had left a few bugs behind her, naturally.  She was starting to think that half of the ring’s population spent their time spying on the other half.  Nothing else could explain the vast number of bugs scattered everywhere.

They finished their meal and walked back to the office.  Naturally, someone had broken in while they were gone and scattered even more bugs around.  Fitz carefully removed them, including a couple that had been scattered in places Mariko would never have thought of looking.

“At least two separate groups of intruders,” he commented, when he had finished.  “I wonder if they ran into each other while we were at lunch.”

He seemed to find it amusing.

Mariko was much less amused.  “Fitz, that woman...”

“Was modified to pump out pheromones,” Fitz said, very seriously.  “I think we’re lucky that she thought you were in charge; the pheromones she used were configured more for unaugmented men than women.  If your tastes ran towards other women, you might have found her very arousing.  There was a whole planet of people who altered themselves so that resistance was literally unthinkable.”

Mariko shuddered.  “And seeing that we’re not their slaves today, what happened to them?”

“They didn't understand what they were doing – genetic engineering isn't an exact science, even today,” Fitz said.  “They planned to make everyone else extremely vulnerable to the smells they emitted on cue.  Instead, they made their victims aware of the attempt of control without actually controlling them.  And they were so confident that they released the modification as a genetic-altering retrovirus without actually testing it properly.”

He grinned.  “Four months later, the last of them was brutally killed by the people they considered serfs,” he added.  “And good riddance to bad rubbish.”

“Oh,” Mariko said.  “Engineering a superhuman isn't that easy?”

“No,” Fitz said.  “But you’re right.  Something about this deal stinks like limburger.  We need to do some planning before we take on our guests this evening.  At least we can check to be sure that we got paid.”

Chapter Twenty-Eight

“All of your papers seem to check out,” Fitz said, studying their two guests.  They were both human, one an elderly gentleman who might be well over two hundred years old, the other a young woman who had a calm, but alert pair of eyes.  “And thank you for paying us.”

“We were told that you would wish to search us,” the young woman said.  Her voice was sharp, almost as if she hailed from Homeworld itself.  “Might I suggest that you hurry?  We have a rendezvous to make.”

“Of course,” Mariko agreed.  She nodded at the young girl, feeling oddly nervous.  “If you will accompany me to the medical bay, we will check to make sure that you didn't bring any unwanted surprises along with you.”

Fitz had briefed her carefully on how to conduct the search, but passing a scanner over another woman and then searching her physically was something completely outside her experience.  Mariko checked everything she found, yet there was nothing more dangerous than a packet of breath mints that came all the way from Homeworld.  The girl admitted, with a shy smile, that she’d grown addicted to the brand, even though they were expensive along the Rim.  Mariko almost found herself liking her as the girl did up her clothes and smiled at her.

“You never told us your name,” she said, once the girl was decent again.  “What should we call you?”

“Most people just call me Red,” the girl said.  She ran a hand through strikingly red hair that she swore was all natural.  Mariko privately doubted it.  “My family has long forgotten me, and I am doing my best to forget them.”

“That’s a good idea,” Mariko said.  She had started to wonder if she would be better off forgetting her own family, if she kept working for Fitz.  Who knew what Imperial Intelligence’s enemies might do to her father’s company if they linked her to him?  “How did you meet up with the old gent?”

“I do a lot of bodyguard work,” Red admitted, with a wink.  “It’s not hard, provided you keep a careful eye out for traps and make sure you know what you’re getting into before you take the money.  He’s just my latest client.”

Mariko nodded as she led Red back into the small corridor.  “We’ve given you linked cabins, compartments A-12 and A-13,” she said.  “I’m afraid we can't allow you on the bridge while we leave the planet and enter phase space.”

“That’s quite understandable,” Red said.  “But I’m equally afraid that I won’t give up the coordinates until we enter phase space.”

“That’s fine with us,” Mariko assured her, as she found the cabins.  The elderly gentleman was already seated in his, studying a datapad he’d brought with him.  “We’ll call you once we’re underway.”

She left them behind and walked onto the bridge, where Fitz was already running through the pre-flight checks.

“We may be in trouble,” he grunted, as she closed the hatch behind her.  “I did a DNA scan on that gentleman.”

Mariko looked at him as she took the helm console and checked that the local OTC had given them a flight path.  “And?” she asked, delicately.  “Do you know him?”

“Not personally, but he’s in a database reserved for very important people indeed,” Fitz said.  “His name is Professor Oscar Snider – and he’s one of the Imperium’s foremost experts on wormholes.”

Mariko stared at him.

“They’re trying to build a wormhole network of their own?”

“It’s possible,” Fitz said.  “But it’s also possible that the Snakes want to get their claws on him.  They don’t have a wormhole network, or the theory to build one...”

“But the Professor could help them fill in the gaps,” Mariko said.  She completed the checks and sent a PTL burst to the local OTC.  The OTC didn't seem to have any objections to them leaving; they merely designated a course that would allow them a clear run up to the edge of the gravity well.

“Do you think we should take him to the Bruce Wayne instead?” she asked after a long moment.

“I’m not sure,” Fitz admitted.  “But if we intercept him now, we lose our chance to track down the Secessionist base.”  He shook his head.  “I’m ordering Mai to follow us at a safe distance.  Whatever is waiting for us on the far side, we will have at least one surprise up our sleeves.”

Mariko watched as he passed on his orders while the Happy Wanderer climbed out of the gravity well.  It struck her as risky, but as long as the Professor was onboard a ship they controlled, he couldn't be turned against the Imperium.

Or could he?  There was no way to know. Red might have tricks that wouldn't show up on a basic scan.  Fitz had commented that some augments were deliberately designed to be largely undetectable...

...but perhaps she was just getting paranoid.

“I have a course laid in for Theta Sigma,” she said, grimly.  “Do you think that that will suffice?”

Theta Sigma was a small colony ten light years from Paradise, an understandable destination for a pair of spacers desperate for money and not too picky about how they got it.  Like most new colony worlds, Theta Sigma preferred to pay smugglers rather than Imperium-authorised shipping agents.  The smugglers were cheaper.

“It should do, for starters,” Fitz said.  Ahead of them, the open stars seemed to beckon the freighter onwards.  “And then we can see where our guests are taking us.”

“Phase drive in three, two, one...”  Mariko keyed the switch and space compressed around the freighter, tossing them into the dark dimension of phase space.

There was nothing outside, apart from a very faint distortion that had to be Mai.  The Bruce Wayne was a marvel of a ship, she had to admit.  Following someone through phase space was not easy.

“Phase space achieved,” she told him.

“Then let’s go and have a word with our guests,” Fitz said.  “It’s time to find out where they want us to go.”

***

Red was sitting on her bunk when the hatch opened to admit Mariko, almost as if she were meditating while awaiting her time to act.  She uncurled her legs the moment Mariko looked inside and stood up, wearing nothing more than a tight shipsuit she’d had in her bag.

“Time to change course?” she asked, smoothly.  “Of course; silly question.  Take me to your bridge.”

“And why should I take you to my bridge?” Mariko countered, stung.

“Because you want to know where to go, don’t you?”  Red lifted one delicate eyebrow.  “Or do you feel that you can take us somewhere else and sell us into slavery?”

“I’ve never had much patience with being mocked,” Mariko said, as she motioned for Red to follow her.  “And besides, who would want to buy you as a slave?”

“All sorts of things happen out along the Rim that no one notices,” Red said, wryly.  “There’s even an alien world where having a human slave is a status symbol.  We dominate the universe, but they know that they can still dominate individual humans.  Really sad, isn't it?”

She smiled as she stepped onto the bridge.  “Ah, a modified bridge,” she said, with some interest.  “Did you put this together on your own, or did you have a team of monkeys to assist?”

“I did most of the work,” Fitz said, from his station.  “Where do you want us to go?”

Red grinned at him.  “Are you in such a hurry to get rid of me, handsome?”

“I want to know where to steer the ship,” Fitz said, patiently.

Mariko felt a hot flash of jealousy, as he seemed to be interested in Red.  The girl’s blatant sexuality was disconcerting, which might have been the point.  A man might underestimate her…until it was too late.

“There are nine possible destinations within thirty light years along this vector,” Fitz told her, “but we would have to alter course more radically if we departed along the wrong vector...”

“Oh, don’t get your knickers in a twist.” Red said, as she bent down to examine the console.  “Merely alter course a few degrees and head directly towards IAS-482352.”

Fitz shrugged.  “And just what happens to be there?”

“Very little, apart from an abandoned research station from back when the scientists were wondering just what was going on in the heart of a very strange red dwarf,” Red said with a smile.  “But it makes a good place to meet our friends, wouldn't you say?”

“A nice, isolated place,” Mariko agreed.

“Oh, yes,” Red said.  Her grin grew wider.  “How long will it take to get there?”

“Around seven hours,” Mariko said, as she carefully altered course.  “Maybe a little longer – the last interstellar survey picked up traces of shadow graviton particles that might make maintaining an active phase drive field harder.”

“No one quite knows what’s going on inside that sun,” Red said.  She smiled at Fitz, who smiled back.  “Would you like to spend the next two hours with me, instead of watching boring consoles on the bridge?”

Fitz hesitated.  “Ah...”

“I'm afraid that we both have duties,” Mariko said, quickly.  “I suggest that you return to your cabin and wait for the reversion into normal space.  At that point, we can meet up with your friends and start transferring the cargo.”

Red leered at her.  “Frightened I’ll ruin him permanently for you?”

“I pay him for actually working,” Mariko countered, icily.  “He can seduce you once he’s off-duty.  Which won’t be until we meet up with your friends.”

“What a great shame,” Red mocked.  “But you could join me in my cabin instead.”

“No, thank you,” Mariko said, tightly.  “Go to your cabin and wait there.”

Red bowed and left through the hatch, pausing just long enough to wink at Fitz before leaving.  Mariko stared after her, a helpless rage boiling through her.  Red was already getting on her nerves...

“It’s a power play,” Fitz said, when Mariko gave vent to her frustration.  “Keeping you off-balance is a good way to maintain control of the situation, even if you are the Captain of this ship.  And it allows her a chance to try to build influence with me...never accept anyone who is so blatantly trying to get you into bed.  They always have an ulterior motive.”

Mariko looked at him as she settled back down in her chair.

“How many times have you had sex while on duty?  How many women have you seduced to save the day?”

Fitz laughed.

“Those shows about interstellar men of mystery have a great deal to answer for,” he said.  “I never had to seduce anyone in my career, unless you count a girl I met while developing a cover identity on Francisco.  She was sweet, the caring mother of two young girls, and I liked her.  But when it was time to move on, I said goodbye and left without looking back.”

Mariko frowned.  “You just left her there?”

“She didn't know who I was,” Fitz said.  “And I never made her any promises.  Does that make it any better?”

“I don’t know,” Mariko admitted.  “It’s a dirty business, isn't it?”

“Yes,” Fitz said, flatly.  “When I was...recruited, I was told that I might find myself doing things that would bring a whole load of short-term pain – and that pain might not fall on the deserving bastards who started the shit rolling in the first place.  All I could really do was hope that I would make a difference in the long-term, for everyone.  But I cut myself off from my family, built a playboy persona around myself, and...and I could never really relax again.”

Mariko reached out a hand and placed it on his.  “Is it always that way?”

“For those of us who operate alone, it is always that way,” Fitz said.  His voice was surprisingly wooden.  “I always envied people like Prather, even though I didn’t trust them – they had friends and allies in their departments.  I had Don, but I never wanted to get close to him.  We always knew that we might end up giving our lives to save the entire Imperium.  And now Don’s dead, and I’m still alive.”

Mariko hesitated, and then answered a question that had been bugging her.  “Were you and Don lovers?”

Fitz chuckled, humourlessly.

“Homosexuality is forbidden among the aristocracy,” he reminded her.  “The Grand Senators are obsessed with having children, even though the rejuvenation treatments make it harder for us to have kids.  Anyone who was openly homosexual could expect Extreme Disapproval, at the very least.  Someone who chased alien women could be at least gunning for the right sex.  But homosexuality...it’s funny how many freedoms there are for the young nobility, but they don’t include homosexuality.”

“That doesn't answer the question,” Mariko pressed.  “Were you and Don...?”

“No,” Fitz said, flatly.  “But we were pushed together on a mission and if you do that, you either end up very close friends, or you wind up killing each other.  We got along, learned to read each other’s minds – having the same augmentation helped.  And then we fucked up and Don died, while I escaped by the skin of my teeth.  Don will be missed back home.”

“You have us,” Mariko said.  She tried to push sincerity into her words.  “I will stay with you.”

“You’ll need a great deal of training before you are truly fit for this job,” Fitz said.  “What about your sister?”

“You said you could get her a job more suited to her talents,” Mariko pointed out.  “Can't you do that?”

“If it’s what she wants,” Fitz said.  “The Engineering Corps won’t want someone who doesn't want to be there.  And I wouldn't send her anywhere if she didn’t want to go.”

He stood up and paced the bridge.

“You may have to cut yourself off from everyone you know and love,” he added.  “Maybe it won’t matter in your case, but in mine...I can't afford to have people like the Twins thinking that I might be spying on them.  The excesses of the young nobility are a major cause of unhappiness in the Imperium, and we do what we can to curb them.  So I go around acting like a fop, all the time watching and waiting for the moment to act.  Do you think that you could live that life forever?  Because that’s what you’re talking about.”

Mariko studied him for a long moment. “Who recruited you into this...conspiracy of light?”

“Someone very senior – and no, I won’t tell you his name,” Fitz said.  His grin widened unpleasantly.  “One of the things you are going to have to learn, if you really want to keep this job, is when not to ask questions.  This is one of the really bad times to ask questions.”

He reached out and gave her a hug, before heading towards the hatch.  “I'm going to check up on our guests, then take a brief nap.  I suggest you take a nap, too; it won’t be long before we need all of our wits about us.”

***

IAS-482352 had seemed unremarkable, until a team of astronomers had noted a peculiar quantum signal in the star’s core, suggesting that someone had actually modified the star somehow thousands of years ago.  The Imperium, according to the records Mariko had pulled out of the Happy Wanderer’s database, had been very interested; altering a star’s inner structure was a feat beyond human technology and the Grand Senate wanted to know how to do it.  But a research program that lasted forty years had turned up nothing, eventually convincing the Grand Senate to cancel the study and officially dismiss the claims of stellar modification as lies and misinterpretation of the data.  If someone did possess a technology superior to humanity’s, the Grand Senate didn't want anyone actually believing in them.  Who knew what would have happened to humanity’s sense of superiority if they’d known that such technology existed.

Mariko brought the freighter out of phase space some distance from the phase limit surrounding the star.  The smaller stars tended to produce curious shifts in their phase limits, for reasons no one fully understood.  Running right into the phase limit would, at best, force them back into normal space; at worst, no one would ever see them again.

Fitz scanned the system as they coasted towards the red sun, looking for anything interesting.  IAS-482352 had little of interest, apart from a handful of asteroids, a scattering of comets and a single abandoned research station.

“Take us towards the research station,” Red ordered.  She’d come back to the bridge, ignoring polite suggestions that her company might be better appreciated elsewhere.  “They’ll make contact with us there.”

“They?”  Mariko asked, as she changed course as instructed.  “Who are you...?”

An alarm chimed as a spatial distortion appeared above their ship.  Moments later, it revealed itself as a decloaking cruiser, seemingly of Imperium design.  Old it might be, but there was nothing old about the weapons array that was locked on the Happy Wanderer.  One single missile from her, and the freighter would be blown into flaming debris.

“You must excuse our paranoia,” Red said, smoothly.  “But we know that you’re working for the Imperium.  I suggest that you surrender and save yourself from a quick and unpleasant death.”

Mariko stared at her.  “Is this how you treat all of the people who work for you?”

“You were scanned as you entered the Paradise ring,” Red said.  “Imagine our surprise when we discovered that one of you was heavily augmented.  And you were offering such a tempting booty for anyone who needed it all.”

Her smile widened as the cruiser grew closer.  “Surrender,” she said.  “Surrender, or die.”

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Fitz lashed out with his augmented strength, knocking Red to the floor.

“Actually, you can’t have that ship open fire,” he said, sharply.

Mariko tossed him a packet of duct tape, and he started to use it to tie Red up.

“If you destroy us,” he told the captive Red, “you also kill the Professor.  And I imagine that your people won’t want to risk that.”

Mariko blinked.  “Are you sure?”

“If they wanted to deprive the Imperium of Professor Snider, they could just have killed him on Paradise and vaporised his body,” Fitz pointed out, dryly.  “Why would they need to have a show of bringing him onboard this ship?”  He shook his head as he finished tying Red up and left her lying on the floor.  “Come on, quickly!”

Mariko followed him down to one of the compartments of survival equipment.  “What are they going to do now?”

“At a guess, they’re going to wait for us to respond, which we won’t, and then start boarding us.” Fitz grinned at her, manically.  “It may take them some time to realise that we’re not responding, which gives us time to strike back.”

Mariko frowned.  Happy Wanderer’s only weapons were a pair of outdated phase cannons, scarcely a danger to anything larger than a shuttle.  Every freighter commander dreaded a pirate attack, if only because pirates were often savages.  Run from them and the pirates might extract revenge on one’s crew; surrender at once and, very often, the pirates might torture the crew anyway.  Thousands of wrecked ships had had the tell-tale signs of rape, murder, and looting before the hulks had been abandoned to drift through interstellar space.

“You intend to fight an entire cruiser on your own?” she asked, as he opened the compartment to reveal two of the battlesuits he’d transferred from the Bruce Wayne.  They would certainly have been found by an Imperium customs team searching the ship, but Paradise never bothered to search any ship.  “And what about the Professor?”

Fitz checked a console as he pulled out the first battlesuit.  “Put it on,” he ordered, “and then get to the main airlock.  I’ll deal with the professor.”

Mariko stumbled as she slipped into the battlesuit, her fingers trembling as she locked the various switches and felt the battlesuit come to life around her.  Mai would have done better, she knew without jealously, but Mai wasn't with them.  She was with the Bruce Wayne, watching from a distance and no doubt worrying over what to do.  Her ship wouldn't be any match for a cruiser in a direct fight.

The battlesuit’s combat systems came online as she clomped towards the main airlock, the only one large enough to accommodate a pair of battlesuit-wearing individuals.  There was no live feed from the Happy Wanderer’s sensors, something that worried her; the enemy cruiser could be launching assault shuttles right now, targeted on her hull.  Or she could be waiting to hear their reply.

Remembering one of the tricks in the suit’s arsenal, she activated the communications scan and started looking for incoming communications.  The Secessionists were just repeating their surrender demand, with a handful of threats added this time.

She looked up to see Fitz dragging the Professor towards them, having forced him into a spacesuit with a disabled control matrix.  That was illegal under Imperial Law, but under the circumstances she doubted that anyone would care.  Fitz dumped the Professor in the airlock and ran back to get his own battlesuit, leaving Mariko to watch the elderly gentleman.  It was hard to tell, but the Professor appeared to have been drugged by Fitz or Red.  There was no way to know for sure.

“This is your final warning,” a voice boomed in her ear.  “You will surrender now, or we will take steps.”

Mariko switched the channel to her link with Fitz’s battlesuit.  “They’re running out of patience,” she said, hoping that he’d donned his suit by now.  “I can hear them issuing threats.”

“I’m on my way,” Fitz said.  He had always been able to don the battlesuit faster than she could, something he put down to long training.  “Get into the airlock and prepare the emergency vent cycle.”

“Understood,” Mariko said.  She hesitated.  “Are you sure you know what you’re doing?”

“Of course not,” Fitz said, as he clomped into view.  As well as donning a battlesuit, he’d brought along a plasma cannon far too large to be used by an unarmoured human.  It was nearly the size of the cannons used by Imperial Marines as light artillery.  “I’m just making it up as I go along.  Keep one eye on the Professor at all times.  We cannot allow him to fall into their hands.”

There was a groan from the Professor.

“What happened to him?”

“Red hit him with something I didn't have time to analyse,” Fitz told her, as he started to key the airlock control panel.  Mariko admired his fine control; if she’d tried to program the airlock using her armoured fingers, she would have broken the entire panel.  “Probably a mixture of sedative and hypnotic, something to keep him docile and cooperative.”

He snorted as he finished tapping in commands.

“As soon as the airlock opens, get out onto the ship’s hull and prepare to repel boarders,” he added.  “They won’t be expecting us to challenge them in open space.  Activate your suit’s chameleon function, and they might not even be able to see us.”

The airlock hissed open, revealing the inky blackness of space.  Mariko realised that the Secessionist cruiser was approaching from the other side of her ship, unable to see them as they crawled out of the airlock and onto the hull.  Fitz pulled the Professor with him, tethering him to part of the hull before standing upright and clomping after Mariko on magnetic boots.  The suits had their own internal manoeuvring systems for operating in space, but using them might have been detected.  Wearing the suit made a person feel invincible, yet Fitz had reminded her, time and time again, that there was no such thing as an invincible weapon.  A single burst from a high-intensity plasma cannon would cut the suit in half and kill her instantly.

Fitz touched her suit, making her jump.

“There,” he pointed, using the induction contact system to avoid any betraying transmissions.  “They’re on their way.”

It was difficult to make out the cruiser against the stars without the passive sensors within the suit, but something disengaged itself from space and zoomed into view, heading right towards them.  Her suit identified it as an Alicia-class assault shuttle, one originally developed for the Imperial Marines before entering common usage and finally being replaced with another design.  She managed to shut the suit’s databanks off before it provided her with a full breakdown on the class, its history, its known weaknesses and everything else anyone might have wanted to know about the shuttles.  How Marines and the other elite units managed to use the battlesuits constantly was beyond her.

Fitz lifted his plasma cannon and took careful aim, sighting on the shuttle as it closed in.  Mariko braced herself, knowing that the moment he activated the plasma containment chamber, it would send out a betraying emission to the enemy ship.  Warnings flashed in front of her as Fitz clicked off the safety and pulled the trigger, sending a series of blinding white flashes towards the enemy shuttle.

The shuttle was hit twice, spun out of control and then exploded in a huge fireball, taking all hands down with her.

Mariko felt a brief moment of pity for them.  But she reminded herself that the Secessionists had set out to hijack her ship and then take them prisoner – and presumably kill them.  They didn't deserve sympathy.

“Target destroyed,” Fitz said, with heavy satisfaction.

Above them, the cruiser started to move, advancing towards the Happy Wanderer.  It made no sense to Mariko; if they’d decided to cut their losses and vaporise her ship, they were already well within weapons range.  Happy Wanderer had almost no defences at all.

“Good shot,” she said, as the enemy cruiser came closer.  “Now what do we do?”

“Activate your linked combat modules and brace yourself,” Fitz said.  “This is going to be a stunt.”

Mariko wondered what he meant as he switched channels and started sending coded signals to Mai, who was presumably watching from a distance.  But what would happen if she had lost them?  Fitz’s contingency plans hadn't included a possible hijack; he hadn't even considered the possibility after confirming that Red and the Professor were unarmed.  Her sister might be left waiting helplessly for months before finally realising that they were gone, leaving her with no alternative but to go back to Sumter and contact Prather.

“All right,” Fitz said.  “Here we go.”

Mariko felt her legs bend against her will as the linked combat datanet took control.  She kicked off the ship and found herself flashing through the void, right towards the enemy cruiser.  It grew rapidly from a dot of light into an intimidating teardrop-shape, covered with sensor arrays, weapons blisters and communications domes.  Someone had been trying to turn an old patrol ship into a long-range sensor ship.

The perspective changed once again as she found herself plummeting towards the ship’s hull at terrifying speed.  Then all of her weaponry came online.

She shot at the weapons blisters as they moved to track her.  A dozen were blown into flaming debris before they even started to shoot back.  She silently blessed Fitz’s insistence they practice shooting, then continued to fire ...

She hit the deck with a bump she felt even through the suit’s compensators, no longer fully in control of a suit which had developed a mind of its own.  The suit laid waste to the enemy hull, picking off weapons and sensors with remarkable ease.  They didn't even seem to be shooting back any longer; maybe they couldn't depress their own weapons far enough to shoot at targets on their hull?

Fitz rampaged his way towards one of the airlocks and washed his plasma cannon down the hatch, making the super-strong compound used for starship hulls run like water.  It withstood his fire, but now they’d have to blow it open from the inside if they wanted to get out.

Another airlock opened too quickly for them to intervene and burn it closed.  Mariko’s suit whirled around and opened fire, picking off the Secessionists as they emerged from the airlock and tried to find cover before they were burned down.  None of them escaped in time to prevent Fitz from running up behind her and launching a plasma grenade into the hatch.  The resulting explosion sent atmosphere venting out of the ship, although not for more than a few seconds.  Despite the damage they’d inflicted on the ship’s sensors and weapons arrays, the ship’s integrity was still intact.

A plasma bolt shot past her.  The suit sent her diving to the hull.

Some Secessionists emerged from a third airlock, advancing towards them in battle array.  Half of them wore battlesuits that looked to be outdated Imperium designs, while the remainder wore suits that her suit couldn't identify.  A present from the Snakes, perhaps, or something constructed on a hidden world along the Rim?

There was no way to know, but she suspected that neither she nor Fitz would like the answer when they found out.

Paradise had blossomed by ignoring the Imperium’s laws; what might have been possible on a world completely unknown to the Imperium?  An entire battle fleet, perhaps?

“Keep firing,” Fitz ordered.  “Mai should be coming soon...”

Mariko snorted.  She was effectively a passenger in her suit as it fought the battle for her.  Every time an enemy showed himself, the suit shot a load of plasma at him, forcing the target to duck quickly to save his life.

Mariko saw beams of light blazing away from the undamaged weapons, just before Bruce Wayne came into view.  Mai was a good pilot, Mariko acknowledged, as the tiny ship evaded the incoming fire and shot back, scarring the enemy hull.  But a single lucky shot would cripple her ship...Mariko wanted to scream at Mai to run, even as she came in for another attack run.  She didn't want to see her sister die while she watched, helpless to affect the outcome.

The hull of the cruiser tilted suddenly as her helmsman brought her about, trying to bring her surviving weapons to bear on their tiny tormentor.  Mai couldn't win, but she could keep them distracted while Fitz and Mariko made their escape.

Fitz led the way back to the other side of the ship, shooting a handful of weapons and sensor blisters before they could be turned against the Bruce Wayne.  The enemy cruiser had to be half-blind by now, Mariko told herself, as she opened fire on a pair of enemy soldiers trying to creep up on them.  Mai might be able to win after all if she stayed in the ship’s blind spot.

New alerts flashed in front of her. She cursed.  The cruiser, clearly accepting that it had picked on something more dangerous than itself, was rotating, preparing to leave by the shortest possible route to the phase limit.

“We have to get back to the Happy Wanderer and secure the Professor,” Fitz snapped.  “Mai can keep them off-balance long enough for us to escape.”

Mariko sighed in relief, feeling sweat pouring down her face even in the cool interior of the suit.  How could combat in an automated suit that did most of the work be so exhausting?

He fired a final spread of shots at the enemy, forcing them to keep their heads down, and then threw himself into space.  Mariko followed a second later, trusting in the suit’s guidance systems to find their way back to the Happy Wanderer.  They still couldn't use the onboard systems, for fear of being detected and vaporised by the enemy cruiser before it left.

It struck Mariko that the ship might fire on the Happy Wanderer anyway, in the hopes of eliminating the Professor and all evidence of what they had been doing with him.  But what had they been doing with him?  Why would they want a wormhole expert?  None of the possibilities she could think of sounded very pleasant, or possible.

Mariko’s ship loomed in front of them and they impacted on the hull, just before a burst of laser fire scorched the side of Mariko’s suit.  Red warnings flashed in front of her, warning that her left arm had been compromised, the outer layer of armour almost completely destroyed.  She hit the hull of the ship and clung to it like it was a life preserver, desperately trying to figure out what happened.  Had Red broken free of the duct tape and set out to get revenge?  But Fitz had knocked her down effortlessly...

Fitz swore as he opened fire.

“They sent a team over here while we were over there,” he said, angrily.  “God damn it – I thought there was a small number of troops trying to kill us.”

Mariko felt a hot flash of anger as her suit managed to stabilise itself, although real repairs would have to wait until they were back on the Bruce Wayne.  How dare someone try to board her ship?

Fitz was still firing, but he was placing his shots carefully; it took Mariko a moment to realise that the enemy boarders had managed to capture the Professor, as they'd removed him from where he’d been tethered.  Mariko’s weapons array had been damaged, yet she realised there was enough left to force the enemy to take care.  She opened fire with gleeful abandon, trying to drive them away from her ship.

Her radio crackled.  “I don't seem to be able to damage this thing properly,” Mai said, angrily.  “Should I try to take out the phase drive?”

Mariko smiled. Her sister sounded fine, but irked.

“Absolutely not,” Fitz said, sharply.

Mariko blinked in surprise.  Taking out the cruiser’s phase drive would leave them stranded in the isolated system.

“We really don’t want them stuck here with us,” he added.

Mariko understood, suddenly.  The cruiser still had a manpower advantage; they could still win, particularly if they couldn't retreat.  And if they got their hands on the Professor, they might call it a victory, even if they had been humiliated by a pair of operatives in battlesuits.  They’d even have data they could use to ensure that the next encounter didn't go the same way, perhaps altering their shields to prevent slow-moving objects from slipping through without being interdicted.  It would cost them in power, the engineer in her said, but it would be worth it.

The cruiser was picking up speed, heading directly towards the phase limit.  For a moment, Mariko wondered if it intended to abandon its soldiers on the Happy Wanderer, just before they gathered themselves and leapt away from her ship on a course that would intersect with the cruiser.  Fitz cursed out loud as they sped away, carrying the Professor with them.  There seemed to be no point in giving chase, not when the enemy had managed to turn the undamaged part of their hull to cover the incoming soldiers.

Fitz lunged forward, his suit rapidly reconfiguring itself to deploy a single weapon.  A long, thin tube emerged from his arm, which he pointed in the direction of the fleeing soldiers.  There was a brief pause as he took aim...

And then, as Mariko stared in surprise and horror, he fired, burning right through the Professor’s spacesuit.

Professor Snider, wormhole expert, died instantly.

Chapter Thirty

“What the hell did you do?” she demanded.

“What had to be done,” Fitz said, as the enemy cruiser recovered her soldiers, crossed the phase limit and vanished into phase space.  “There was no way we could allow them to take him.”

Mariko stared at his armoured form in complete disbelief.  Killing someone who was trying to kill her was understandable – and it worried her just how quickly she’d become used to it – but murdering someone in cold blood...?  That was something different.

He turned as Mai brought the Bruce Wayne in towards the Happy Wanderer.

“We both need a shower and a rest,” he said.  “After that, I know where we’re going next.”

“No, we don’t,” Mariko snapped.  “I want to know why you killed him!”

“And so do I,” Mai chimed in.  The airlock on the Bruce Wayne gaped open, invitingly.  “Come aboard and tell us!”

Mai sounded shocked, worse than Mariko herself; perhaps it would kill the crush she’d had on Fitz.

Fitz jumped to his ship. Mariko followed.

She wasn't sure how she felt.  Part of her was very attracted to Fitz and she believed the feeling was mutual, but she didn't really know him.  She had certainly never expected him to kill Professor Snider in cold blood.  If nothing else, he was one of the very few experts the Imperium had – and killing him would weaken the society Fitz was trying to protect and preserve.

Inside the hull, she climbed out of the battlesuit and rubbed uncomfortably at her shipsuit.  The brief battle had lasted no more than fifteen minutes before the enemy cut their losses and retreated, but she was covered in sweat and gel from the suit.  Despite that, her body ached.  The suit’s automated combat system was designed for a trained and enhanced Marine, not for an inexperienced newcomer.

“Red is still aboard your ship, unless they triggered a suicide implant remotely,” Fitz said.  “She should be safe for the moment, but we will have to move her to a secure cabin onboard this ship sooner or later.”

Mai looked up from where she’d been waiting at the end of the corridor.  “This ship has a brig?”

“One of the cabins can be sealed,” Fitz said.  “You’d never know unless you took the command modules apart to discover what’s hidden inside.”

He sounded tired and worn, almost bitter.  Like Mariko, his face and body was streaked with sweat.  He stank...and Mariko was uncomfortably aware that she probably smelled worse.  For a moment, she considered suggesting that they went for a shower after all, before stiffening her resolve.  They had to know why Professor Snider had been sentenced to death...

And what if you don’t like the reason? she thought, mockingly.  Are you going to leave him now, despite giving your word to stay and see this to the end?

She looked at Fitz’s back as he headed towards the dining room, and shivered again.  It was hard not to like him, but part of her was also scared of him.  She’d thought she'd known him – a common delusion among women, part of her mind said derisively – and yet she hadn't realised that he would carry out what amounted to cold-blooded murder.  Professor Snider had never done anything that caused him to deserve death, had he?

And yet...what if Fitz had let him go?  The enemy could have snatched victory from the jaws of a bloody stalemate.

“Water,” Fitz ordered, as they entered the dining room.  “Water, and some supplement bars.  Mariko and I burned a great deal of energy over the last fifteen minutes, and the suits don’t let us stop.”

Mai nodded.

Mariko collapsed into a chair, the tiredness threatening to overwhelm her.  Fitz had his augments to keep him walking, but she just wanted to close her eyes and sleep.  She barely noticed the water until Mai held it under her nose, eventually splashing a little into her mouth.  It tasted of almost nothing, like all water that had been recycled time and time again, but Mariko found herself gulping it greedily.  The supplement bars tasted ghastly, as usual, yet she crammed three down her throat before remembering her manners.  Her mother would have screamed at her.

“There's a variant on those suits for civilians,” Fitz observed.  He seemed tired too, despite his augmentation.  “They make people do exercises and they don’t let up, even when the person inside is screaming for mercy.  But they’re quite popular if you have money to burn; if your kid is too fat, you put him in one of the suits and make him exercise.”

“Seems cruel,” Mariko commented, sharply.  “Why did you kill Professor Snider?”

Fitz looked at her.  “Because there was no choice,” he said, levelly.  “I realised what the bastards planned to do.”

Mariko stared at him.

“You worked out what the Secessionists intended to do just from the Professor?  How long did you spend talking to him?”

“Not long enough to learn everything, but there were a few hints from what he mumbled,” Fitz admitted.  “You know he was famous, right?  And very important?  So why was he muttering about being demoted by the Wormhole Engineers?”

“Maybe he wasn't as brilliant as everyone said,” Mai offered, after a moment.  “There was that big scandal on Edo a couple of years about a Professor who had been stealing the work of his interns and claiming that it was his.”

Fitz shook his head.

“Professor Snider was a wormhole expert,” he said, grimly.  “He couldn't have faked his genius for long, not with so many other experts nearby, willing to check everything.  And he was a genius, one of the few that these depraved times have produced.  He couldn't have faked it, so why was he threatened with demotion?”

He stood up and started to pace the compartment, rapping out his words like bullets.

“The Secessionists have to be out of their minds to think they can win an insurgency against the Imperium using conventional strategy,” he told them.  “And the Snakes would have to be completely insane to try to match themselves against the Imperial Navy, which has no qualms at all about bombarding alien worlds.  The Snakes could cause havoc for a month or two, devastate this sector and a couple of others...and then the Imperial Navy would drive on their star cluster and obliterate their empire, piece by piece.  There is no way they can build up a fleet capable of standing off the Imperial Navy, once a hundred battle squadrons are concentrated in one place.”

Mariko was appalled.  If Fitz was going where she thought he was going…

But Mai was on an entirely different track.  “Perhaps they’ve invented a new weapon, something more powerful than anything we have invented,” she suggested.  “Or perhaps they’ve improved on our designs...”

“Quantity has a quality all of its own,” Fitz said, harshly.  “Think about it.  What keeps the Imperium together?  What gives the Grand Senate the confidence that it can deal with any crisis despite cutting the military budget back to the bone?  What gives the Imperial Navy a decisive advantage over the Snakes or any other challenger?”

Mariko knew the answer: put that way, any freighter commander, or anyone familiar with interstellar economics, would know the answer.

“Wormholes,” she said.

“Precisely,” Fitz said.  “Wormholes. They are the core of the FTL datanet, the means for jumping hundreds of light years in a split second, the link that binds the Imperium together.  And the key to massing the Imperial Navy in one place, if necessary.  Right now, those battle squadrons are scattered all over the Imperium, but if called, they could move through the network and appear almost instantly anywhere along the Rim.  That’s what gives the Grand Senate the confidence that they can win any dispute with the Snakes, or anything else that might have hostile ambitions.”

He stopped and turned to face them.

“The Secessionists are planning to collapse the entire wormhole network,” he said, quietly.  “That’s their endgame.”

It—it was unthinkable, Mariko knew.  Wormholes bound the interstellar economy together.  Without them, interstellar trade would rapidly become a shadow of its former self, with shipping lines that had once crossed half the galaxy reduced to servicing a single sector or two.  It would take months to send messages from one Sector Capital to another, far longer to push a message all the way to Homeworld and receive a reply.  Years would be needed to put all of the worlds of the Imperium back in contact with one another.

And because it was so unthinkable, she realised, the Secessionists might just manage to pull it off.

“Collapse the wormholes,” she breathed.  “Is that even possible?”  She looked over at Mai, who shrugged.

“There isn't enough data in what you gave me to suggest an answer,” her sister admitted. “But maintaining the wormholes requires vast amounts of power.  If that power was to be stopped, the wormholes might start to desynchronise and collapse.”

“Even desynchronising would be disastrous,” Fitz said.  “Anything that stops the wormholes from working normally would threaten the entire Imperium.”

He resumed pacing, angrily.

“Think about it,” he said, after another long moment.  “The network is gone, lost forever.  All of a sudden, the sectors are completely on their own.  Whatever units of the Imperial Navy that happen to be stationed there are stranded, unable to ask for orders from higher authority.  Interstellar trade will be effectively shattered; hundreds of worlds, dependent upon support from outside, will collapse into barbarism.  How long will it be before the aliens start lashing out at human populations, intent on freeing themselves from human domination?

“Some Imperial Navy officers are known to be dangerously ambitious.  How long will it be before they start setting themselves up as warlords, rulers of their sectors?  Or if not them, what about the Sector Governors?  And if there are Secessionist cells scattered on hundreds of planets, they may rise in revolt against what remains of the Imperium’s authority.”

He shook his head.  “And even that may not be the worst of it.  What happens when the Snakes invade?”

He stared into space, his eyes showing the same horror that Mariko felt.

“Homeworld won’t be able to concentrate the Imperial Navy to stop them, not without the wormholes,” he reminded them.  “They won’t even know that the invasion has begun for years.  What units of the Imperial Navy remain in place out here won’t be able to do more than slow them down.  All of a sudden, the sheer size of the Imperium works against it...

“Five years later, there won’t even be an Imperium.”

“You could be wrong,” Mai said.  “Collapsing the wormholes...”

“Is unthinkable,” Fitz snarled.  “Of course it’s unthinkable – that’s why we didn't think of it.  But the wormholes don’t work for the Secessionists, or the Snakes; why shouldn't they look for a way to bring down the wormholes and shatter the Imperium?”

He marched over to the small kitchen unit and ordered a drink.

“You have to hand it to the bastards,” he said.  “It’s a really neat plan. And if it works, it might just win them everything they wanted in one fell swoop.” He savagely took a drink.

Mariko shivered.  What happened if Fitz got drunk?

Could an augmented man get drunk?

Then she shook herself into sense.  Fitz's augments were probably programmed to filter the alcohol out before it entered his bloodstream.  Hell, there were nanites that did similar jobs, available cheaply to anyone who needed them.

But was he right?

Mariko considered what she knew of the interstellar economy and realised that Fitz probably was right.  The disaster would be worse, if anything, than the scenes he’d painted.

Severing the connections between the different sectors would bring down the entire economy.  The big corporations the Secessionists so detested would be utterly ruined, throwing billions of people out of work.  Maybe it would be a fitting end to corporations that had raped so many worlds, rewriting the rules to make theft legal as long as it was committed by them, but it would be a colossal disaster for their employees and everyone who depended upon them.  And Homeworld, dependent upon interstellar shipping for even the smallest thing, would collapse within a year.  God alone knew what would happen to the Emperor, the puppet Emperor, or the Grand Senate.  The chaos would be endless.

“We built the first wormhole network,” she said, finally.  “Couldn't we build a second one?”

“It would take years,” Fitz said.  He hesitated, and then admitted something else.  “And much of the knowledge behind building wormhole generators may have been lost over the years.  Even if we somehow managed to rebuild the entire network within a year, the results would still be devastating, and the Imperium would be utterly shattered.”

“And it couldn’t be done within a year,” Mai said, very quietly.  “It took centuries to build the first network, decades to add the junction to Sumter...at the very least, we’d be looking at fifty years just to rebuild the core part of the network.  What could the Secessionists or the Snakes do with fifty years?”

“Too much,” Fitz said.  He finished his drink.  “I'm going to go fetch Red and secure her in a cabin, then get a shower.  Mai, set course for Marius’s World and slave Happy Wanderer to us.  Once I'm back aboard, take us away from this star and back to the wormhole network.”

“That’s why you killed him,” Mariko said, quietly.  Now she understood.  “You killed him because he could have told the Secessionists how to collapse the wormholes.”

“Perhaps,” Fitz admitted.  “They demoted him, and the only reason I can think of for demoting him is stumbling upon something the Wormhole Engineers wanted to keep firmly under cover – like a way to collapse the wormholes.  Too many scientists ask questions without bothering to consider what the answers will do to the world around them.  But Red had drugged him, which suggests that he might already have said too much.”

“So we might be too late,” Mariko said.  “You killed him for nothing.”

“I intend to find out from Red, if I can,” Fitz said.  He looked at her and shook his head.  “There’s nothing neat and tidy about this job, Mariko.  Like I said, it isn't for everyone.”  He walked out of the dining room, leaving them alone.

“I don’t understand,” Mai admitted.  “How can he be so...cold?”

Mariko would have smiled – her sister didn't seem to have a crush on him any longer – but she was too tired.  Cold-blooded logic told her that Fitz was right. Professor Snider could not be allowed to fall back into enemy hands, whatever the cost.  The sheer magnitude of what he might do for the Secessionists dictated that they had to do whatever it took to stop them, including gunning down a Professor who might have been drugged rather than an willing Secessionist agent.  But part of her was still shocked at how quickly and ruthlessly Fitz had made his decision.  Would he dispose of them as quickly, if he felt it necessary?  Or would he expect them to abandon him if the situation called for it?

“I think it’s just the way he is,” she said, finally.  “I think you should find someone safer to chase.”

She remembered, suddenly, offering herself to Fitz in the hopes that he wouldn't take her sister.  What a fool she must have sounded to him, who had known that they would become involved in something far more dangerous than Carlos’s sexual sadism.  And yet...maybe she understood him a little better now.

Mai blushed.

“It’s hard to laugh, isn’t it?  The entire universe could be on the verge of crumbling around us and...”  She made a show of covering her nose.  “Go take a shower,” she added, firmly.  “This compartment will probably have to be fumigated before we try to host guests aboard again.”

Mariko nodded tiredly and followed orders.

Halfway to her cabin, she met Fitz, who was carrying a struggling Red in one hand.  The bodyguard glared at her angrily, trying to shout abuse through a mouth that had been covered with duct tape.  Mariko ignored Red's attempt to kick her as they passed and walked into her cabin, surprised by how much it felt like coming home.

She pulled off the shipsuit and stared at herself in the mirror.  Her pale body was covered in bruises and her eyes were haunted.  Perhaps she had grown up too much, too quickly.  There was a universe out there that she had never really known existed until she was enmeshed in it, a universe where no one had the luxury of foregoing the hard choices.  If she had had to choose between killing Snider and allowing the Secessionists to take him...what would she have done?

Or would she have hesitated until it was too late?

She stepped into the shower.  The water felt warm against her skin, even when it touched the bruises the battlesuit had left behind.  If she did stay with Fitz, and part of her wanted to stay with Fitz, she resolved to ask for augmentation of her own.  Real combat soldiers, marching across alien worlds in battlesuits, didn't wind up covered in bruises.  Some of them lived in their suits for days on end.

“We’re about to enter phase space,” Mai said, through the intercom.  “Mariko, I have orders to tell you to sleep.  We’ll wake you up when something interesting happens.”

Mariko nodded, stepped out of the shower and dried herself as the ship slid into phase space.  A moment later, she stumbled to her bunk and turned out the light.  She was asleep almost before her head hit the pillow.

Chapter Thirty-One

“I don’t recall seeing this part of the ship before,” Mariko said.  The cabin had lost its bunk, shower and compartments for guests to stow their luggage.  Instead, there was a single chair positioned in the exact centre of the room, where Red sat, tied firmly to the metal.  A set of tubes had been linked to her arm, providing food and drink to keep her reasonably healthy.

“I reconfigured it,” Fitz explained.  “You’ll be amazed at how much of this ship is reconfigurable.”

“I’m not sure I would be amazed by anything right now,” Mariko said.  “What do you intend to do with her?”

Red stared at her, cold murder clearly visible in her eyes. But Red said nothing.

Fitz attached another device to Red’s forehead.  “Interrogate her,” he said, simply.  “Or at least I’m going to try.  Secessionists give their important agents implants that suicide if they detect that they are being interrogated.”  He looked at Red.  “Isn't that true?”

Red merely glared at him.

“It’s a bit of a problem,” Fitz admitted.  “Try to drug her, and the implant will turn her brain into ashes.  Direct neural simulation?  Her brain turns to ashes.  Simple, old-fashioned torture?  That’s very bad news for her, too.”  He grinned.  “Not least because torture is nothing more than inflicting pain, which means that sometimes an implant can decide that an injured person is being tortured and kill her.  That was actually how we managed to uncover a Secessionist ring on Zebra IV.”

He straightened up and peered down at Red.

“I know, you’ve probably been prepared to resist tricks that won’t set off your implant,” he said, addressing her.  “But I don’t think that you’re really prepared for something that is nothing more than a lie detector.  Are you?”

Red said nothing.

“This is how it is going to go,” Fitz said.  “I am going to ask you some questions.  You are going to give me the answers.”

“Get fucked,” Red said, icily.

Fitz ignored her.  “If you cooperate long enough to allow me to solve the rest of the puzzle, you have my word as a Peer of the Imperium that you will be transferred to a penal colony where you will spend the rest of your life,” he said.  “If you don’t...you won’t be taken to an empty cell and blasted.  You’ll go into one of Imperial Intelligence’s little cells, where they will try to outsmart the person who created your implant.  They haven’t had any luck so far, but maybe you’ll be the lucky one who survives the procedure.”

“Try it,” Red said.

Mariko ignored her.  “Why can’t you just remove the implant?” she asked Fitz.

“Because the implant is wired directly into her brain,” Fitz said.  “Removing it will trigger it, killing her.  Using nanites to break it down will probably trigger it as well, or send particles crashing through her brain.”  He shook his head.  “It’s been tried, several times.  Every time, the implanted person has ended up dead.  Very frustrating if you want to get information out of them.”

He looked back at Red.  “There’s no need for this, you know,” he added.  “You could just cooperate...”

Red said nothing, merely sneered.

“Very well,” Fitz said.  “The Secessionists plot to bring down the wormholes, correct?”

“Of course,” Red said, mockingly.  “And then we’re going to turn Homeworld’s star into a supernova, turn the alien population into toads and then declare unlimited rice pudding and custard for everyone.”

Fitz studied a datapad wired into the chair.  “Interesting,” he said, cheerfully.  “And did Professor Snider produce the plan for bringing down the network?”

“No,” Red said.

“Ooh, a lie,” Fitz said.

Red looked shocked.

He grinned at her.  “Oh, don’t be so surprised.  I’m not poking a probe into your brain, merely monitoring the patterns that suggest if you’re telling the truth – or trying to lie to me.  And even what you choose to lie about will give me valuable data.”

His smile widened.  “Tell me if this statement is true.  Professor Snider’s plan reached the Secessionist leadership.”

Red said nothing.

“It’s true,” Fitz said.

Mariko realised that Red might have been able to keep her mouth shut, but she couldn't control her brainwaves.

But Fitz had gone on.  “Have you seen this plan?”

“Of course,” Red sneered.  “We’re going to blow up Homeworld’s star.  I told you.”

“Lies,” Fitz said, dispassionately.  “You haven’t seen the plan.  I assume that means you don’t know how they intend to do it?”  He nodded to himself, using the datapad to monitor her reactions.  “None too surprising; they wouldn't trust anyone in such an exposed position with knowledge of their main plan.  I always used to hate that need-to-know shit when I was going through basic training.  Half of them seemed to think that no one ever had a need to know.”

He winked at Red, who glared helplessly back at him.

“Where do you come from, Red?”

“Prime Number,” Red said.

Mariko had heard of Prime Number, a world where numbers determined everything.

“I was born there and had to leave because I found it so stifling.”

“Another lie,” Fitz observed, “but a clever one.  I could read planetary names to you all day and not touch upon the one that gave birth to you.  Still...

“Chances are that it was a colony world,” he added.  “The colonists suffer worst under the Imperium, apart from the aliens, of course.  Which one gave birth to you...?”

He laughed.  “Oh, I’m wrong.  A core world, then?  Or perhaps one of the corporate...ah, a hit!”

Mariko shook her head as the absurd question and answer session continued, eventually revealing that Red had been born on Hades as the youngest daughter of a worker peon, a Class-Three citizen so heavily in debt that he was on the verge of being automatically downgraded to Class-Four, a status that would have automatically been passed down to his children and their descendents.

The system was rigged, of course.  Why would the corporate worlds pay cheap labour when they were legally enslaved?

Red had left the planet as soon as she was old enough and never looked back.  And then she had been given her basic training on Tuff.

Fitz went over that time and time again, trying to pull as much information as possible from the resisting girl.  She had been picked up by a Secessionist recruiter and transhipped to Tuff.  Later training had been from someone who had probably been in the Imperium’s service at one time or another, perhaps one of the officers whose disappearance Richardson had masked.  She’d become a practiced bodyguard and sent out on her first mission, followed by a string of others, but she never saw the ultimate result of her work.  And her first failure had come when she’d underestimated Fitz at the dull red star.

“Curious,” Fitz said, finally.   “My offer does stand, you know.  Cooperate openly, and I will ensure that they don't kill you while trying to crack your implants.”

“Go fuck yourself,” Red said, and followed up with several words that Mariko had never heard before.  “You fucking piece of...”

“That will do, thank you,” Fitz said.  “I’ll arrange for your transfer as soon as we reach Sumter.  You have that long to change your mind.”

He led the way out of the cabin, followed by a pensive Mariko.  Automated subroutines would monitor Red at all times, even though she should be unable to move enough to scratch an itch, let alone escape.

“You’re very quiet,” he said, when the hatch had hissed closed and sealed itself.  “Are you all right?”

“I didn't like watching that,” Mariko admitted.

“I don’t like doing it,” Fitz said, softly.  “There are people who live for breaking suspects, but they’re the ones you really don't want in charge of an interrogation room.  The idea is to use everything from drugs to outright torture to extract information, not to indulge someone’s sadistic little habit.  I knew an intelligence agent who got dismissed after punching out an interrogator who enjoyed his work too much, the little bastard.”

He shrugged.

“Not that it matters much in her case,” he added.  “Getting anything else out of her will be difficult, and I suspect that whatever else she knows won’t be very useful.  But we do have to try and beat that implant before we catch the person who knows everything.”

Mariko looked up at him.  “And you know who that person is?”

“There’s only one place left to go now,” Fitz said.  “Lady Mary is involved in this, right up to her stupid headdress.  We have to go back to Tuff and grab her.”

“But...”  Mariko stared down at the deck.  “Last time we went there, we might have triggered all kinds of alarms.”

“But they let us leave peacefully, so we didn't,” Fitz said.  “Besides, didn’t you promise your boyfriend a second date?”

Mariko felt herself flushing, again.  After everything they’d seen and done, it didn't seem like that much, but the memory still made her want to cringe.

“You’re a bastard,” she said, finally.

“Literally,” Fitz said, with some pride.  “Uncle Hercules couldn't get his wife pregnant, so he banged a serving maid and, nine months later, out popped I.”

Mariko gaped at him.  “Hercules?  As in the Grytpype-Thynne?”

“That’s the one,” Fitz said, cheerfully.

“But...”  Mariko swallowed and started again.  “Wouldn't that make you the Heir to one of the most powerful men in the Imperium?”

“Matter of opinion,” Fitz said.  He grinned at her as they reached the bridge.  “Uncle Hercules doesn't have another direct child, but there are several in the cadet lines that may have a better blood claim than I do.  He could declare me his Heir if he wanted, yet that would come with excessive scrabbling amongst the family.  Better to keep the vultures guessing who will be nominated when the time comes.  The real jackals might betray themselves in the meantime.”

“I'm surprised he lets you out of his sight,” Mariko said, faintly.  She’d known that Fitz was an aristocrat, but she’d never realised just how powerful he stood to be if he did inherit.  Why would anyone throw that away to go charging around the Rim trouble-shooting for the Imperium?  “Doesn’t he worry about you?”

“The only person he’s ever worried about is himself,” Fitz commented.  “The bastard is a hard man to love, but he does have the well-being of the Imperium at heart, which is more than can be said for many other Family Heads.  He knows what I do for the Imperium and blessed me when I left.  We really need more people like him.”

He shrugged.

“Besides I never quite fitted in at court,” he added.  “Everything has been so tense for the past two hundred years.  You don’t dare cough for fear that someone will take it as a sign to start something violent.  It’s so much more comfortable out along the Rim.”

Mariko giggled.  “Does Prather know just how high-ranking you are?”

“No one does, apart from my superiors,” Fitz said.  “And now that you know, please keep it to yourself.  The last thing I need is overawed people crawling around me.”

“The Twins know, don’t they?”  Mariko guessed, teasing him.  “What would have happened if you had gotten them pregnant?”

“It would have been difficult to say,” Fitz said.  “But once the fatherhood test proved that the kids were mine, they would have been in line for a share in the family’s holdings.  It would have been very interesting to watch...from a safe distance, of course.”

***

They passed through the wormhole at Marius’s World and emerged at Sumter, where Fitz promptly made contact with Prather using codes he pulled out of his implants.  An hour passed before there was a reply, ordering them into a holding orbit that would take them away from the standard shipping lanes.  Mariko steered them into the orbit and waited, wondering just what Prather and his subordinates were playing at, until a large freighter signalled them with Imperial Intelligence codes.  The docking tubes were extended and Colonel Prather walked onto the Bruce Wayne.  Fitz would have preferred not to allow him onboard, but he’d been insistent that they needed a secure environment.

“Remarkably luxurious, for a courier ship,” he said, rather snidely.    “Anyone would think that you were stealing money orders and ripping them off.”

Fitz scowled at him.  “We don’t have time to argue,” he said.  He passed Prather a chip, one he’d spent the last day putting together.  “This is what we have found out from our mission, including a detailed idea of what the Secessionists are planning.  We also have a lead on a major Secessionist leader that I intend to follow right now.”

“Oh,” Prather said.  His tone turned sarcastic.  “And what does the high-and-mighty Priority-One Agent wish his loyal subordinates on Sumter to do while he’s gone?”

“I expect you to look to the junction’s security,” Fitz said, sharply.  “The Secessionists, we believe, intend to take and collapse the wormholes.  Order the Admiral to concentrate the Sector Fleet and ensure that the junction is secure.  Pull intelligence priority if you must.”

Prather stared at him in disbelief.  “Are you out of your mind?”

“I just killed one of the Imperium’s foremost experts in wormhole science to keep him out of enemy hands,” Fitz snapped.  “And we have a Secessionist agent on this ship who can corroborate the basic idea behind their plot.  I suggest you start taking this seriously before the Secessionists arrive and start their operation.  Losing the wormholes would mean the end of the fucking universe!  Do you understand me?”

“You can't come in here and give me a crazy story...”

“That’s what they’re counting upon,” Fitz hissed.  “It is a fucking crazy story.  That’s what they thought when they calculated that no one will believe us.  You have got to listen, right now.”

Mariko glanced at him in alarm.  She had never heard Fitz so stressed.

“I’ve already sent a compressed packet through the datanet to Homeworld,” he added.  “Do you want to take action now, while you can, or do you want to explain to the Imperium why you did nothing?”

Prather locked eyes with him for a long moment, and then looked away.

“You don’t understand,” he said.  “Part of the Sector Fleet has been dispatched to Iceberg and is beyond recall for at least three weeks.”

Fitz gaped at him.  “In God’s name, why?”

“Iceberg has been experiencing heavy levels of piracy recently and their governor managed to be very persuasive...”

“Paid a very large bribe,” Fitz injected.

“...To the Governor and Von Rutherford, the CO of the Sector Fleet,” Prather continued.  “Over half of the Sector Fleet’s active units were dispatched to patrol the region in the hopes of stopping the bastards before they cut into the profits...”

“And the Governor’s bribes,” Fitz snapped.  “I suggest, very strongly, that you urge the Governor to recall them, at once.  If that fails, get in touch with Baron Yu and convince him to order the Governor to recall them – and send some reinforcements while we’re uncovered here.  You have got to understand, Colonel; we’re looking at complete disaster for the entire damn Imperium if we fail.  Can you really take the chance that we’re wrong?”

“...No,” Prather admitted, finally.  For some reason, he didn't look keen on the idea, even if success would win him certain promotion.  “And your prisoner?”

“Take her on your ship, get her to higher authority, try and crack the implant in her head,” Fitz ordered.  There’s a transcript of the original interview I did with her on the chip; see if your experts have any other ideas we can use to break her.  And if you can convince her to turn state’s evidence in exchange for cancelling the death penalty, do it.”

“I’ll do my best,” Prather said.  He hesitated.  “Do you remember that we had a handful of important officials who might have been targeted for blackmail?”

“Of course,” Fitz said, impatiently.  “I thought you were interviewing them.”

“We were,” Prather said.  “Two of them ended up dead, seemingly in Undercity.  The bodies were recovered carrying wounds that suggested that knives were used to kill them.  We cannot understand how they escaped protective custody...”

“Unless they had help from the inside,” Fitz snarled.

“Precisely,” Prather said.  “I’ve contacted Baron Yu and asked for assistance, but so far I haven’t had a proper reply.  What’s going on in the heart of the Imperium?”

“I wish I knew,” Fitz said.  “Believe me, I wish I knew.”

There was something in his voice that made Mariko look up at him, sharply.

Prather stood up.  “I’ll take the prisoner now and then let you go,” he said.  “Do you need another wormhole transit?”

“A priority passage,” Fitz agreed.  “At least that won’t look unusual for the Wally West.  We might have to leave the Happy Wanderer here, perhaps on a powered down orbit.”

“It could go into the docks here,” Prather pointed out.

“I’d prefer it somewhere where it won’t be noticed,” Fitz said.  “And Colonel...I wasn’t joking about the fate of the Imperium riding on this.  Don’t let up.  Even if we defeat this threat, the universe will be changed forever.”

“I won’t,” Prather said.  “Good luck.”

***

Later, after they had passed through the wormhole and set course for Tuff, Mariko found herself standing with Fitz as the ship ploughed her way through phase space.  There was nothing out there to see, of course, but the darkness attracted her on a primal level.  Others, groundhogs mostly, never grew used to phase space.  A handful even went insane when they saw the endless darkness.

“I’m scared,” she confessed, finally.  “Everything could be riding on us.”

“I know,” Fitz admitted.  He put an arm around her shoulders and she relaxed into his grip.  “I’m scared too.”

Chapter Thirty-Two

“It looks just the same as before,” Mai said, as the shuttle swooped down towards Lady Mary’s compound.

Fitz smiled, but his heart wasn't in it.  “What did you expect?  A massive brooding planetary garrison?  A flashing light with SECRET REBEL BASE blinking on and off?”

Mai looked at him in surprise.  They’d been working every day on possible scenarios in the holochamber, rehearsing what they might have to do with Lady Mary.

“I would have expected her to run and hide,” she said, with great dignity.  “Instead...”

“Here she is, inviting people to come and hunt the Hex,” Fitz said.  He’d picked up a copy of the brochure when they passed through Ming, a colony world only ten light years from Tuff.  It was also connected to the wormhole network, a stark warning of the chaos that would rage over the entire Imperium if the Secessionists succeeded in bringing the network down.  “It’s a perfect cover for her.  She looks innocent, yet she has a chance to feel the pulse of the entire sector.”

“It looks busier, too,” Mariko observed. Yet despite that, OTC had already assigned them a berth. “How many people do you think are here?”

“As many as she can get,” Fitz said.  “Hunting the Hex isn't something you can do anywhere else.  I’d bet you good money that half of the wild sportsmen in the Imperium have decided to come this year.”

The shuttle dropped to the ground and landed.  Mariko shut the systems down, one after the other, and opened the hatch, allowing the warm smelly air of Tuff to flow into the shuttle.  Mai wrinkled her nose as she picked up her share of the luggage and stepped out of the hatch.

They were met by a pair of porters.  This time, they would be staying inside the walls of the compound.  Fitz had special-ordered it while they’d been waiting for permission to land.

“Take these bags to our quarters,” Fitz said, drawing the Lord Fitzgerald persona around him like a shroud.  He produced a pair of silver coins from his pocket and passed them to the porters.  “And then please let Lady Mary know that we have arrived.”

Mariko blinked before realising that Lady Mary had no reason to connect them to Imperial Intelligence.  Or so she hoped.

But what if someone had made the connection between them and Imperial Intelligence along the way?  What if Prather was dirty?

She felt naked despite her expensive, all-covering shipsuit.  Did Fitz feel this way all the time?

The sense of unreality grew stronger as they walked out of the shuttle and up to the giant mansion.  It was surrounded by visitors enjoying themselves swimming, eating and chatting up the expanded staff.  Lady Mary had clearly hired additional servants to keep her guests happy, mostly young and female Indents.  Mariko wondered how many of them would be paid well enough to pay off their debts, before realising that it was unlikely that they would ever be paid enough to be free.  Indenture was effectively permanent – and ran through the family.  No wonder Indents were the most rebellious humans in the Imperium.

But why had Lady Mary turned against the Imperium?  It had given her everything, from a social position that everyone outside the Grand Senate would envy to wealth and power and a planet of her own.  Mariko puzzled over the question as they entered the mansion and allowed one of the butlers to guide them to their rooms.  They’d been given a suite larger than many homes in the Imperium, complete with a shower, bathtub and drinks cupboard.  Mariko poured herself a glass of water and drank it while Mai started to unpack their clothes.  The protective camouflage they’d wear tonight – two dresses, low-cut enough to make her blush – and the dark suits they’d use when the time came to deal with Lady Mary.  And, below them, equipment for the hunt.

Fitz tapped on the door and came inside, carrying a bug detector in one hand.  Two bugs were quickly located and just as quickly destroyed; a third, hidden inside a wooden statue of a horse-like animal with a human head, was removed and placed inside a locked cabinet.  It wouldn't hear anything from there.  Fitz insisted on holding their discussion in the bathroom and running a hot bath while he talked, just in case he'd missed something.

“I recognised a number of people who came to the hunt,” Fitz said.  “Most are sportsmen, people who go from planet to planet blowing up big game, but several are planetary governors from this sector and its neighbours.”

Mariko felt her eyes narrow.  “Don’t they have duties on their homeworlds?”

“All work and no play makes a planetary governor a dull boy,” Fitz told her. “At least, that’s probably how they justify it.  But then, most planetary governors are dull boys anyway.  That’s not the point.  The point is that we may have less time than we thought.”

Mariko put it together in her mind.  “If the governors get murdered on the same day the wormhole networks go down...”

“The sector will be effectively leaderless,” Fitz confirmed.  “Maybe that won’t be as bad as they think – two of those governors are men who were sent out here in the hopes they wouldn't be able to harm anyone important – but it will still be disastrous as the sector starts struggling with the effects of being cut off from the Imperium.  A long argument over who is actually in charge won’t help the population when the Snakes invade.”

He shook his head as he started to undress.  “I got a timetable from one of the butlers,” he added.  “Tonight, there’s going to be a masked ball to welcome everyone to Tuff; tomorrow, the hunt for the dreaded Hex begins.  We have to move tonight.”

Mariko nodded.  “What are we going to do?”

“Snatch Lady Mary, get her back to the ship and into an interrogation chamber,” Fitz said.  “Find out what she knows in the hopes that it will lead us to the Secessionist leadership.  And then try and stop them before their plan reaches fruition.”  He shrugged.  “Any questions?”

“Yes,” Mai said.  “What will I be doing while you two go after Lady Mary?”

“I want you ready to head for the shuttle the moment we send the signal,” Fitz said.  “You should get there first, so power up the engines and wait for us.  As soon as we are aboard, take us out of here...”

“And remember that you can’t count on the data from OTC,” Mariko put in.  “Keep one eye on your own sensors at all times.”

Mai shot her a cross glance.

“Now leave me to have my bath, and then wash and dress yourselves,” Fitz ordered.  “And make sure you bring your tools with you in your dresses.”

***

“I feel silly,” Mariko confessed.  She wore a golden mask and feathered headdress that did a good job of hiding her identity, and a golden dress that clung to her body in all the right places.  “And we look like twins.”

Fitz gave a low whistle as he studied them.  “You look like women pretending to have more status than they actually do, which isn't a bad thing in a masked ball.  No one ever looks past the obvious; instead, they spend time congratulating themselves for having spotted the obvious.  Idiots.”

He shook his head.  “How do I look?”

Fitz wore a black and gray uniform with a bat-symbol on his chest, surrounded by a black cloak he rustled around him for dramatic effect.  His mask only concealed his eyes and hair, little else.  Anyone who knew him would have been able to see through the disguise easily.  But that, he’d explained, was part of the point.  Anyone who considered themselves important would not want to go unrecognised, even at a masked ball.

“Dark,” Mai said.  “Who, exactly, do you think you are?”

“He was a character from the past, banned now,” Fitz said, as he struck a dramatic pose.  “I think the idea of someone standing up for truth and justice didn't go down well with the censors, for some strange reason.  You probably won’t have heard of him; few outside the collecting world have heard of any of those characters.”

“This one was human, at least,” he said with a grin..  “Can you believe that they used to portray aliens as being superior to humans, having powers beyond human comprehension?  I’m not surprised that they were banned.  Who wants to suggest the idea of superior aliens to the Imperium?”

“Right,” Mariko said.  “Where do we go now?”

Fitz made a show of checking his watch.  “We go to the masked ball for an hour, long enough to make sure that everyone remembers us, and then we take our leave,” he said.  “Apparently, Lady Mary will not be attending the ball.  The butler told me that she has last-minute scheduling issues to deal with.”

“That’s worrying,” Mariko pointed out.

“We could hardly have snatched her in front of the great and good of the Imperium,” Fitz said.  He looked worried, his tone belaying his words.  “Never look a gift horse in the mouth, my father always said.”

Mariko’s father had said the exact opposite, she recalled as they walked down the stairs and entered the ballroom, but she kept her thoughts to herself.  Normally, the aristocracy would try to outdo one another in being fashionably late, yet that didn't seem to apply for a masked ball.  Hundreds of couples were already on the dance floor, dancing to a tune that seemed oddly familiar.  Their dancing was more enthusiastic than skilled, part of her mind noted, before she realised that most of them wouldn't have danced in costumes.  Several women had even come completely veiled, covering their entire bodies in shapeless black garments.  Mariko couldn't resist the thought that they all looked absurd.

Fitz grabbed her wrists and pulled her onto the dance floor, leaving Mai standing on her own beside the wall.  Mariko felt a brief twinge of guilt before a masked man appeared beside her sister and invited her to dance.  She kept one wary eye on Mai as they spun around the floor, but found it hard to take her eyes from Fitz.  Silly costume or not, he managed to dance better than the rest of the aristocrats.

“Long practice in this costume,” he muttered, as they reached the side of the room.  Nude waitresses, wearing masks that concealed their faces even as they exposed everything else, walked past, holding trays of drink.  Mariko started to reach for one before Fitz shook his head.  “You need a clear head tonight.”

The night wore on as the ballroom grew more and more crowded.  A woman started shouting at her dance partner after he accidentally tore off her mask ahead of time.  Several waitresses managed to separate the couple and lead them to different parts of the room.  A fight threatened to break out between a group of masked men in gaudy costumes, although Mariko couldn't see what – if anything – they were fighting over.  By the time Fitz caught her arm and pulled her away from the ballroom, it was almost a relief.

The tiny rooms for couples were as drab as she remembered.  She took off the mask with a sigh of relief and put it on the bed.  A moment later, the outer part of the dress joined it.

“Lock the door as we leave,” Fitz ordered.  “And then follow me.”

Outside the ballroom, the mansion’s corridors were almost completely empty.  The public corridors, at least; Fitz had explained that Lady Mary’s massive building had private corridors to keep the servants away from her guests, as well as concealing part of the building’s infrastructure.  Underground, who knew how far it might have expanded?  Tuff wasn't a tectonically stable world, but given advanced technology and enough money it could have been safeguarded against almost anything.

“Walk naturally,” Fitz hissed at her, as they walked up a flight of stairs.  Lady Mary had the entire sixth floor to herself.  Suspiciously, there was only one public link between the rest of the mansion and her quarters.  It would certainly be guarded.  “Remember, you’re not a thief; you’re just lost and searching for your way back to your quarters.”

He stopped outside a painting of a scowling aristocrat from decades ago and waved his sonic screwdriver over it.  “Gotcha,” he said, as he started to prod away at the latch.  A moment later, the painting yawned open, revealing another corridor running parallel to the first.  “Come on...and stay quiet.  We’re not meant to know about this place.”

Mariko grinned as she followed him into the secret passageway, closing the painting behind her.  “How did you know it was here?”

“The painting was out of place,” Fitz whispered, as he started to slip down the darkened corridor.  “My grandmother – on my father’s side – was an avid art collector; her collection was big enough to require a larger building than this place to store it.  She insisted on my learning everything I could about art, lecturing me every time I came to visit...”

He shook his head.  “She wasn't a bad person, but she could be boring at times.”

Mariko could understand that, all right.

“And when she passed away, she left me many of her paintings.  I never realised that she painted, too, until I saw them after her death – and how many people had feted the artist, never realising who she was.”

Mariko blinked.  “She hid her identity?”

“If you’re born to the aristocracy, you’re surrounded from an early age by people telling you what they think you want to hear,” Fitz muttered, as they reached a stairwell leading upwards and started to walk up towards the sixth floor.  “They would have told her that she was the reincarnation of every great artist in the past if they’d known who she was, even if she lacked talent.  She was smart enough to work under an assumed name.”

“Like you,” Mariko said.  “Or is your real name your cover?”

Fitz shook his head.

“If I succeed or fail, no one will ever know my name, at least not as a secret agent,” he said.  He didn't sound entirely pleased about it, but he’d clearly accepted the need for it a long time ago.  “I’m not in this business for fame.”

He snorted as they reached the top of the stairs.  “This should get us in without being noticed.  If not, get ready to stun everyone you can and start hunting for her.”  A crack of light appeared as he pushed open the hatch leading back into the public part of the building and stepped out, stunner in hand.

There was no one there to greet them, but the atmosphere struck her at once as being very different.  The air was cool, and there was an unmistakable sense of purpose in the corridor.  No paintings decorated the walls; no fine carpeting covered the floors.  In the distance, she heard what sounded like a woman talking.  She didn't sound happy.

Fitz tapped his lips and slipped off down the corridor, pressing his feet against the walls.  Mariko followed him, pulling her stunner from her belt and bracing herself to use it.  Stunners weren't designed to kill, which was one reason why they were fairly common in the Imperium despite gun control laws, but hitting a person in poor health could push him over the brink.  She would rather have carried a real pistol.  Fitz stopped outside an opened door and peered through it.  Mariko followed him a moment later.  Someone was sitting in a chair with their back to the door, talking into a microphone.

“Things are getting too damn complex,” the woman said.  Oddly, she didn't sound like Lady Mary.  “Our source on Homeworld says what?”

Mariko couldn't hear the response, but she did hear the muffled curse from the woman.

“Get the fleet ready; we have to move now, or we risk losing everything.  Whoever killed Snider put a spanner in the works, all right.”

There was another unintelligible response.

“Well, find out,” she said.  “Someone learned enough to guess the truth...what will they do once it actually sinks in, through the disbelief and shock and complacency that makes up the Grand Senate?”

“Hey,” another voice bellowed.  “Who are you?”

Mariko turned, to see a man wearing a blank uniform running towards them, drawing his weapon.  Fitz stunned him before he could finish drawing it, leaving his body slumping to the ground, before running into the room to confront the woman.

Lady Mary – it was Lady Mary – spun around to stare at him.  He stunned her...and then she seemed to shrug off the stun blast.

Damn it, she's augmented, too! Mariko thought.

Lady Mary struck Fitz right in the nose with augmented strength, sending him flying backwards, directly into the wall.  The force of his impact seemed to echo through the entire room.

Mariko lifted her stunner and shot Lady Mary, time and time again, but there was no effect.  Even the mildest levels of augmentation could easily counter a stun blast.

Strong hands grabbed her from behind, tore the stunner out of her hands and pushed her to the floor.  Mariko struggled, but her attacker was either augmented or naturally stronger than she was.  Resistance was futile.

A moment later, she felt something touch the back of her neck...and the world plunged into darkness.

Chapter Thirty-Three

Mariko felt sick.  It was as if she'd swallowed something so vile that her genetic improvements couldn't cope with it.  There was a roaring in her ears that hurt, badly, yet seemed oddly familiar.  Her entire world seemed to shift around her, no matter how she tried to focus.

And then she felt another prick in her forearm. The queasiness started to fade away.

“You may as well open your eyes,” a voice said.  “I know you’re waking up.”

Someone must be talking, she realised. Maybe she'd been talking for a while, but she’d been so scrambled that all she’d heard was a dull roar.

Mariko opened her eyes.  Lady Mary stood in front of her, studying her face.  The aristocrat didn't look anything like as welcoming as the first time Mariko had seen her; in fact, she looked terrifyingly angry.  Mariko realised in horror that someone had stripped her naked before cuffing her hands behind her and shackling her legs.  Escape would be impossible, even if Lady Mary turned her back.  She looked around for Fitz and saw him seated in another chair, cuffed heavily.  A simple metal collar ran around his neck.

“I already know why you came,” Lady Mary said.  “You sang like a canary.”

“I didn’t,” Mariko said, trying to find the strength to defy her.  She’d been drugged, clearly, but she wouldn't have talked...would she?  “Why...?”

“Amazing stuff, truth drugs,” Lady Mary said.  “And your nanites were hardly up to the task of scrubbing the drug out of your bloodstream before it took effect.  Who would have thought it?  Useless old Fitzgerald, the bastard son of one of the most important men in the Grand Senate, serving as a spy.  And a very competent one, too.”

Her lips twisted into an unpleasant smile.  “He really had me taken in,” she said.  “I wonder how many other useless old farts are actually spies sent to keep an eye on me.”

Fitz coughed from his chair.  “What makes you think that you’re so important?”

He sounded weak, Mariko realised in horror.  What could weaken him?

“There’s a twenty million credit bounty on my head,” Lady Mary said, cuttingly.  “Not under my real name, of course.”

“You?”  Fitz said.  “You’re the Rebel?”

“And you’re a spy for the Imperium, one of the ones who try to keep a thoroughly rotten system running,” Lady Mary pointed out.  “I hardly think that you're in a position to complain about someone else adopting a disguise.”

Mariko gathered herself.  “Why?”

“Oh,” Lady Mary said.  “Is this the moment where I offer you a large cup of tea and tell you all my plans, while you work out a way to stop me?”

“No,” Fitz said, weakly.  “It’s the moment where you tell us why you decided to betray the system that gave you everything.”

Lady Mary shrugged.

“And there I was, thinking that you knew everything,” she mocked.  “Isn't Imperial Intelligence supposed to know everything?  Dear me – so many ideals are falling down today, aren't they?”

Her gaze fixed on Fitz.  “I was fourteen, in control of my life, and I wanted a child,” she said.  “I seduced someone in the hopes that he would give me a child...well, it didn't work out and my family was most angry.  They called me a foolish little girl, and they were right.  I wasn't mature enough to understand that a child would have blighted my life until it grew up and became an adult.  But they felt that I hadn’t learned my lesson.  They exiled me out to a planet named Vulcan.”

Mariko shook her head.  There were a hundred million worlds in the Imperium, ranging from worlds where humans could live without terraforming to rocky uninhabitable worlds only colonised because they possessed raw materials that couldn't be found anywhere else, or because the colonists really wanted privacy.  She couldn't remember them all.

“Vulcan was a hellish place, even by the standards of the Imperium,” Lady Mary said.  “The population were all Indents, of course, worked to death by their owners – and they were rebellious as all hell.  Someone had given them enough genetic enhancement to allow them to survive Vulcan’s toxic atmosphere for several hours, pushing human enhancement to the limit.  Robots would have been better suited for mining there, but robots were expensive and Indents were cheap.  You can guess which way the managers jumped when they were forced to decide.

“The Indents were rebellious, of course, and ingenious.  Small colonies lived on the surface away from the mines and life support domes, raiding the installations with the help of insiders on the mining crews.  Each raid cost the managers money, so they hired mercenaries to put the rebels down.  But the mercenaries weren't prepared for Vulcan’s environment, so the fighting just stalemated.  I was told that I would be taking over as manager with orders to put the rebellion down.  Instead, I wound up joining it.”

“I’m surprised they let you go to Tuff,” Fitz commented.

“I banished most of the mercenaries from the world and made the rebels a number of concessions,” Lady Mary said.  “Most of them cost very little compared to the stupendous wealth pulled from Vulcan’s underground deposits.  Profits would have gone up, I thought, but the family council thought differently.  They thought I’d set a dangerous precedent that would eventually wind up costing them large parts of their income.  And so they banished me out to Tuff, not knowing that I had already made contact with the Secessionists.”

Fitz coughed, again.  “Do you know what sort of chaos you’ll unleash if you bring down the wormholes?”

Mariko glanced at him, worried.

“Of course,” Lady Mary said.  “Have you seen the Imperium lately?  You and I, Lord Fitzgerald, sit on top of a system powered by slave labour, strangling the life out of the entire galaxy until there is almost nothing left.  How many wrecked worlds have been abandoned because they were no longer profitable, leaving the locals to die in polluted atmospheres?  How many...?”

“Then help us to change it, instead,” Fitz snapped.  “You don’t have to bring the entire edifice crumbling down.”

“You’re an idealist,” Lady Mary said.  “Do you really think that the Grand Senate would agree, voluntarily, to give up most of its power to let the Imperium breathe?  They won’t even consider granting the outer worlds autonomy, and those are human worlds.  Their power has to be broken, completely.  And as for the pain and suffering I will inflict, can you tell me that the fat and happy populations of the Core Worlds don’t deserve it?”

She paced around Fitz and looked down at Mariko, one hand stroking Mariko’s chin.  “But you have your doubts,” she said.  “You could join us.”

“No,” Mariko said, flatly.

Lady Mary smiled, coldly.  “Are you sure?” she asked.  “Because otherwise, you will share his fate.”

She’d had time to think about what would happen if the Secessionists succeeded.  Billions of lives would be lost as the Imperium shattered, followed by billions more as warlords and alien invaders started fighting over what was left of human space.  And besides...she didn't want to abandon Fitz.

“I’m sure,” Mariko said.  “Go fuck yourself.”

“I have given some thought about what to do with you,” Lady Mary said, shrugging.  “I could kill you both right now, but that would be too easy.  Tell me; what do you know about the Hex?”

Mariko felt her eyes widen with horror as she remembered what they’d been told about the Hex.

“Precisely,” Lady Mary said.  She grinned, almost girlishly.  “The hunt...is on.”

Mariko felt a cold metal object being pressed against her neck...and then she blacked out, again.

***

Someone was shaking her.  “Wake up,” Fitz said, urgently.  “Can you hear me?”

Mariko groaned.  Whatever they had used to put her out, twice, was powerful.  “Yes,” she slurred, and was shocked at the sound of her own voice.  She coughed twice, and then opened her eyes as her stomach finally rebelled against Lady Mary’s mistreatment.  “Yes...”

She rolled over and threw up, violently.  Fitz caught her before she fell facedown in the midst of her own vomit.

“That’s a natural result of truth drugs,” Fitz admitted, as he helped her to her feet and held her until she felt steady again.  “I’m sorry.  I seem to have blundered twice now.”

Mariko remembered what she’d done and shuddered.  “I’m sorry,” she said, feeling her body start to shake again.  “I didn't mean to tell her anything.”

“I know,” Fitz said.  “Don’t worry about it.”

“But...”

“You were drugged,” Fitz said.  “I gave you nanites that should have provided some protection, but I think they just kept upping the dose until it overwhelmed the nanites and took effect.  Everything you knew about me, now they also know it.  Damn.”

This seemed a surprisingly mild response for what Mariko knew was total disaster.

“What do we do now?”

“Look around,” Fitz advised, dryly.  “And then tell me what you think we should do.”

Mariko, for the first time, because aware of their surroundings.  They stood in the middle of a jungle, completely naked.  No, not completely; Fitz had a collar wrapped around his neck.  Their cuffs and shackles had been removed, leaving them free to move, but they'd been completely disarmed.  They could be thousands of kilometres from Lady Mary’s compound, completely isolated.  Who knew what would have happened to them in Tuff’s weird jungle?  There were so many deaths in the jungle that two more would hardly be noticed.

“Shit,” she said, finally.  “Where are we?”

“Unknown,” Fitz said.  “I think we’re not actually that far from the compound, but there’s no way to be sure until tonight – if we get a clear sky.”

Mariko stared at him.  “But don’t you have a compass in your augments?  And a GPS?”

Fitz tapped the collar.  “Suppressor,” he said.  “Most of my implants are currently useless, or scrambled.  Lady Mary wasn't going to let us out of her grasp without crippling us as much as possible.”  He shrugged.

Mariko's dismay at their plight doubled.  Even after the experience with the capture webbing, she still thought of augmented people as being invincible.  But now Fitz was helpless, reduced to the levels of a normal man.

“Not helpless,” Fitz said, when she said that out loud.  “Just...tired.  These implants are lighter than the first designs, but my body is still heavier than yours – or any other unaugmented human.”  He looked up at the sky.  “But I think we’d better get walking.  You do remember what a Hex looks like?”

Mariko shivered.  The beasts were disconcertingly human, at least on the surface.  Tuff had altered their minds, giving them a savage nature that made them utterly fearsome, combined with a feral intelligence that made them dangerous.  And they were in the middle of their range on the planet...

“It’s worse than that,” Fitz pointed out, as he pulled a leaf from one of the trees and broke it up in his hands, creating a smelly mess.  He rubbed it over his chest and then Mariko’s back, giving her enough for her to rub his back and her own chest.  “Each day, idiots with guns are going to set out, having been informed that their targets look like humans.  What happens when they see us?”

Mariko looked down at her naked body and blanched.  The Hex were naked, of course; Tuff hadn't bothered to program them to have any sense of modesty.  They would look like Hex, particularly to any Lord looking to improve his score.  He’d shoot them before he had a chance to realise that he was taking pot-shots at real humans.

“There have always been whispers that some of the darker hunting fraternities actually do hunt humans,” Fitz muttered, as they slipped through the jungle, heading north.  Or what Fitz swore was north.

Mariko could only hope that he was right.  Despite the stench they’d rubbed on themselves, the insects were starting to bite.

But Fitz had gone on: “Dark tales of secret worlds where convicted criminals are hunted to death, their heads taken as trophies.  Even the Grand Senate would never stand for it if it was exposed, but no one knows for sure.  Those who do aren’t telling.”

“I suppose that they have a taste for the forbidden,” Mariko said, finally.  “Just like Richardson.”

“And now I wonder if Lady Mary hasn't been at the heart of it for a very long time,” Fitz said, nodding in agreement.  “What if she invited some of those fraternities here to hunt the Hex, only the Hex are really live humans?  Once she had footage of their activities, they would be vulnerable to blackmail.  It would give her a whole series of sources inside Homeworld, probably inside the High City itself.  Hell...what if the Emperor came out here?”

“He’s a child!”

“He won’t remain a child forever, although the bookies have been offering long odds for his survival until he reaches his majority,” Fitz explained.  “What if they brought him out here, allowed him to hunt a couple of humans, and then used it to blackmail him?”

Mariko considered it.  “But if they’re bringing down the wormholes, they won’t have the time to bring the Emperor out here,” she pointed out.  “Right now, don’t we have proof that Lady Mary is involved?”

“Assuming we live long enough to deliver it,” Fitz said.  “Without it, we only have suspicions – our successors only have suspicions.  We...”

He broke off as they came into a small clearing, with a single pool of water at the centre, glimmering brightly under the sunlight.  “Careful,” he snapped, as Mariko made her way towards it.  “We don’t know what’s in there.”

Fitz picked up a stick and held it out towards the edge of the pool.  It had barely touched the water when sharp claws appeared from under the surface and shredded the stick to splinters.  Mariko found herself staggering backwards in shock, even though the...creature didn't seem inclined to come out of the pool after them.  But it was an effective guard, she realised.  There was no way they could pull water from that pool...

“Interesting,” Fitz mused.  “I wonder what that thing actually is?”

They ran the risk of dehydration and he was calling it interesting?  Mariko had to bite down an angry response.  Instead, she glared at him.  “You don’t know?”

“Not everything Tuff created was catalogued,” Fitz admitted.  “And he gave the whole biosphere a massive push towards forced evolution.  Something could easily have evolved since he was dragged off to face a long sentence in suspended animation.”

The hours wore onwards as they kept moving north.  Mariko spotted what looked like a pear tree, guarded by ant-like creatures the size of her fingers; Fitz managed to snatch two of the pears before the ants responded with an angry charge to drive them away.  Mariko almost wanted to start diving into the pears, but Fitz warned her to be very careful and started to go through a long process of testing the pears first.  They didn't seem to cause any immediate reaction when he rubbed his hand against them, followed by opening one up to look inside.  Finally, he tasted one very carefully and nodded in relief.

“It should be edible with our genetic enhancements,” he said, passing her the pear he’d tested, “but if you feel any reaction, spit it out at once.”

Mariko nibbled on the pear, waiting after each bite for her stomach to rebel.  Nothing happened, apart from being increasingly aware of her growing thirst.  Fitz finished his pear, careful not to eat the seeds inside, and started to walk north again.  Mariko followed him, holding the remains of her pear in one hand.  Fitz seemed to have an idea in mind for using them.

The next pond they encountered was deeper, clear enough for them to see down to the bottom.  There didn't seem to be anything lurking in the water apart from a handful of tiny fish, but Fitz was still very careful as he started to prod the side of the pond.  Eventually, he reached inside, pulled up a little water and swallowed it.  There was a long pause before he pronounced it drinkable.  Mariko knelt down beside him and started drinking greedily.  It tasted funny, but right then it was the best water she had ever tasted.  Fitz eventually led her away as darkness started to fall, taking her under cover as a spacecraft flew through the sky.  It was heading towards Lady Mary’s compound, Mariko hoped.  They were heading in the right direction.

“I’m sorry I brought you into this,” Fitz said, as they found a place to rest.  “I didn't intend to risk your life so badly.”

“I knew the risks,” Mariko told him, although that wasn't entirely truthful.  She hadn't understood all of the dangers.  “It wasn't your fault.”

“Too desperate to find answers,” Fitz said.  He lay down next to her.  .  “I should have left you both on the ship.  At least you might have been able to rescue me.”

Mariko was suddenly very aware of his nakedness, despite having followed him all day.  And she was naked too

“And not shoot my mouth off to her,” Mariko said, bitterly.  “I betrayed you.”

Fitz took her hand.  “You didn't do it willingly.”

She sat up.

“I think that that’s all that counts,” he said earnestly. “You're not at all to blame.  I am; I failed my superiors and led you to your death.”

It might be their last night alive; the hunters might start looking for them tomorrow.  And Mai no longer lusted for him.  She had to do something to make him feel better.

Mariko rolled over and climbed on top of him.  He stared at her, but didn't try to stop her.  Instead, his manhood stood up, rubbing against her naked ass.

“Not your fault,” she whispered, as she kissed him.    “Not your fault at all.”

And then there was nothing but exploring one another.

Chapter Thirty-Four

“I’m sorry,” Fitz said, the following morning.  “I shouldn’t have...”

“You shouldn't have what?  Slept with me?”  Oh, you stupid, stupid man, Mariko thought.  I make love to you, and you apologize?

She settled for pointing out icily, “I think I made the first move, not you – and thank you for being a gentleman.”

Fitz flushed.  “I...I have made our lives more complicated...”

Mariko felt her anger dissolve into laughter.

“We’re naked in the middle of a rainforest and we’re being hunted by men who think we’re animals...how could it be less complicated?”

Fitz stared at her, and then started to laugh, too.  “I...you’re right,” he said, as he broke down into giggles.  “I hope it was good for you.  I’m a little rusty.”

Mariko grinned at him.  “Good enough, I’d say,” she said.  Her entire body felt tingly.  “I think...”

She broke off as Fitz held up a hand.  There were footprints around where they’d been sleeping, human footprints.  Fitz looked from side to side, suddenly alert, but saw nothing.  The jungle seemed as impenetrable as ever.  Mariko felt a chill run down her spine.  Had someone – or something – been there while they’d been asleep, watching them in the night?

“Hex, maybe,” Fitz said.  “They might not recognise us as being different than them.  Or maybe they were just curious.”

“I thought they were extremely brutal,” Mariko pointed out.  All of a sudden, she felt naked -and uncomfortable with being naked.  “Or could they think of us as potential mates for themselves?”

“I don’t know,” Fitz admitted.  “All human variants are supposed to be able to interbreed, but the Hex weren't a proper human variant.  It is possible that they might able to breed with us...”

Mariko shook her head.  The thought was disgusting.  “What do we do now?”

“We keep walking,” Fitz said.  “No, first we go back to the pond and get some water, then we keep walking.”

An hour passed slowly as they kept heading north.  Mariko was starting to wonder just how far they were from the compound when she heard something. Fitz stopped in his tracks and held up a hand to alert her.  It sounded oddly familiar, but it took her a moment to place it as a horse neighing.

Fitz pulled her into the undergrowth as the jungle started to shake, revealing three men on horseback carrying guns.  Mariko didn't recognise the outfits they wore at all; why would anyone wear blunt metal suits when they could wear something a great deal more comfortable?

“Their uniform,” Fitz hissed, as the horsemen came to a stop nearby.  Two of them dismounted and headed off to answer the call of nature; the third remained on his horse, looking bored.  “Stay here.”

Even without his augmentation, Fitz could still move surprisingly quietly.  He was out of the undergrowth before the third knight looked up and saw him.  The knight reached for his gun, opening his mouth to shout the alert, but Fitz was on him before he could do either.  Fitz caught the knight by the throat, choked him while taking a knife from his belt, and then used the knife to cut the knight’s throat.  He slumped off the horse and hit the ground with an alarmingly loud crash.

“Hey,” a voice shouted.  “Roderick!  Are you all right?”

Fitz had Roderick’s gun in his hands as the other two knights crashed back into the clearing.  They reached for their weapons, just as Fitz shot the first one right through his armoured cowl.  The second knight dived to one side, trying to shoot back, only to be shot down by Fitz before he could take aim.  A moment later, he was dead.

“They trained me before I was augmented,” Fitz said, sardonically.  “Idiots.  Don’t they know it’s not safe to relax in hostile territory?”

He passed Mariko one of the guns and started to go through the bags attached to the horses’ saddles.  “Some food and drink, thankfully,” he said.  Mariko took a bottle of water with some relief and drank it gratefully.  “And a GPS.  Let's have a look.”

Mariko watched him fiddling with it as she undressed the three bodies and then dragged them into the undergrowth.  Most of Tuff’s fabled savage life forms didn't seem to exist in this part of the planet, but she was sure that something would come along and eat the bodies before it was too late.

“Not too far from the compound, or the rebel base,” Fitz said.  “All things considered, I think we’d better head for the base.”

“But they might not have a starship there,” Mariko pointed out, carefully.  A nasty thought had occurred to her.  “And what about Mai?”

“Hopefully, we can find a shuttle we can use to get to orbit,” Fitz said.  He looked over at her.  “It’s quite possible that Mai is perfectly safe...”

“Lady Mary knows that she’s with us,” Mariko said, cursing herself.  Had a walk through the jungle and passionate sex actually blinded her to her sister’s needs?  “Won’t she try to hurt her?”

“I don’t know,” Fitz admitted, “but I do know that we should check out the base first.  If it’s still training recruits, it may be a sign that they’re not ready to launch their offensive.”

Mariko shrugged.  “Don’t they know they’re blown?”

“It will still take time for the Imperium to react,” Fitz said.  He started to pull on one of the intact suits of armour, and then stopped.  “Don’t bother about the armour; just concentrate on the horses.  Have you ever ridden one before?”

Mariko hadn't ridden anything before, apart from the neo-elephants she’d used the last time they visited Tuff, back before she’d discovered that Fitz was far more than just another playboy aristocrat.  But the horse seemed docile enough.  Following Fitz was remarkably easy, even though it hurt to ride for too long as the saddle just hadn't been designed for female anatomy.  Fitz consulted the GPS as the horses found their way through half-hidden paths, paths that might have been created by the Hex.  If there were any Hex...there was no reason why Tuff couldn't have shipped a breeding population of humans to his world, given them a genetic problem that made it hard for them to communicate with unaffected humans and then declared them his own invention.

They cantered across a long road that seemed to lead right around the planet, and then suddenly stopped.  The horses protested loudly when Fitz tried to push them into going further.  A moment later, Mariko felt the field of emotional repulsion they’d experienced the last time they were here, although this time Fitz seemed just as badly affected as she.  He tethered the horses to a tree trunk, hopefully out of sight of the road, and then walked directly into the field.  Mariko followed, taking his hand in hers.

The desire to run grew stronger and stronger.  She continued to resist it silently, telling herself she knew all about it and would not give in ...

And then it snapped off.

“Curious,” Fitz said.  “They took down the entire field.”

Mariko blinked in surprise.  “Why?”

“I don’t know,” Fitz admitted, “but I don’t think we’re going to like the reason when we find out.”

The jungle seemed less impenetrable than it had the last time they’d visited the rebel base, almost as if someone had removed trees at random.  Fitz suggested that it might be punishment duty for rebel soldiers who hadn't obeyed orders, noting that military punishments were meant to involve backbreaking labour as a reminder to obey orders in the future.  This time, there was no sign of any guards, but they still crawled the final metres to the cliff face they’d used to look down upon the base once before.  Fitz swore quietly as the rebel base came into view.  Mariko followed his gaze and understood.

When they’d last seen it, the rebel base had been a single field; now, it was several fields, all surrounded with barbed and charged wire.  Each field held a number of prisoners and more were arriving.  Mariko saw a long line of people, their hands tied behind their backs, being marched down into the detention centre.  It was hard to be sure, but from their fine clothes she suspected that most of them were aristocrats.  Fitz gritted his teeth as a protesting teenage girl was forced into an open cell, her tattered dress falling in rags around her.  With her hands tied, there was nothing she could do to cover herself.

“Most of the guards are human,” Mariko observed, shocked.  The remainder were from a dozen separate alien races.  “How can they do this to their own people?”

Fitz snorted.  “How could Carlos have you and Mai lined up for an eternity of sexual torture just for refusing him?  Who needs evil alien races when humanity is perfectly capable of brutalising itself?”

He shook his head.  “I think we can get down to the main buildings over there,” he said, pointing to a place where the jungle ran down to the buildings.  “Come on, carefully.”

Mariko followed him as he crawled down through the mud, walking almost like a climbing monkey as he inched downwards towards the base.  It was hard for her to follow him, even though she knew there was no choice; being covered in mud wasn't her favourite activity.  But she kept following him somehow, hoping that the jungle would be enough to shield them both before they reached the rebel buildings.  If nothing else, being completely naked might distract the guards long enough for them to get the drop on them.

But nothing happened as they reached the side of the building and inched towards the door.  It was locked, but Fitz picked up a piece of metal from the ground and went to work on it; a moment later, it clicked open.  He chuckled, very quickly, as they slipped inside, stepping into an air-conditioned room.  A quick check revealed a handful of rebel uniforms in a locker, next to a shower.  Mariko pointed Fitz towards it and he nodded.

“Good thinking,” he said.

They showered before donning the rebel uniforms.  The uniforms had clearly been tailored for humans, suggesting that humans might actually be the majority race in the Secessionists.  But perhaps that wasn't a surprise.  The human race was almost certainly the most numerous race in the Imperium – and besides, it was going to be difficult for the Imperium to extract revenge on humans by indiscriminate bombardment.  No other race could say that.

Fitz stepped into an office and stopped.  Two young women stared at them – both clearly astonished to see the intruders.  Fitz jumped forward and knocked one of them down, while the other stumbled backwards until she hit the rear wall.  Mariko found a roll of tape and used it to tie up the first woman while Fitz dragged the second woman over to her.

Once they were both tied and gagged, Fitz checked through the office.  It included a surprising amount of paperwork for a rebel organisation.

“Even rebels need to be organised,” Fitz commented, sardonically.

Mariko blinked at the anger in his tone.  All this hadn't just been going on under the noses of the Grand Senate, but had been actively created by someone who might have risen to the Senate one day.

“See if you can find a list of prisoners...ah.”

Mariko followed as he left the office and glanced outside through a pair of transparent windows.  “They intend to keep the governors and most of the aristocrats hostage until Zero Hour, which appears to be four days from now,” he said.  “But everyone who isn't considered useful has been transferred to an underground cell.”

“And that includes Mai,” Mariko guessed, as they found the shaft leading down into the underground part of the complex.  It reminded her of the base they’d found under Greenland, but much more secure.  So close to the lava pools, it would be easy to trigger charges to destroy the base and all evidence of what they were doing there.

“I hope so,” Fitz muttered back, as they reached the bottom of the stairs.

Two rebel guards stood there, both carrying shockers.  Not lethal, therefore safe enough in the hands of prisoners – but enough to discourage prisoners from trying to escape.

Fitz raised his voice as they approached the guards.  “We’re your relief.”

One of the guards looked puzzled.  “We only just got on duty,” he protested.  “I think there’s been a scheduling error.”

“Well, it’s an error in our favour,” the other said, quickly.  “These two can stay on guard and...”

He passed Fitz his shocker, who promptly used it to shock the other guard to his knees.  The guard barely had a moment to react when Fitz brought the shocker down on his head, sending them both to the ground.  Fitz kicked them both precisely and they fell into darkness.  Mariko rather pitied them; they would have to explain their failure to Lady Mary and her rebel subordinates.  She was likely to hurl them into the parts of the jungle that contained really dangerous creatures.

Fitz pulled the door open and looked inside.  Nearly two hundred people were seated in a dark room, their hands bound.  Some of them looked to be on the verge of death; others were constantly testing their bonds, trying to escape.  Mariko saw Mai in one corner, a nasty bruise on her face, and ran to her sister.  Mai looked up, as if she couldn't quite believe what she was seeing, and then cried as Mariko hugged her.  The knife she’d taken from one of the mounted huntsmen was enough to slice through Mai’s bonds and free her sister.

“Interesting,” Fitz said, as he managed to brighten the lights.  “How many of you have some form of augmentation?”

In the bright light, Mariko realised that most of the prisoners had been given suppressing collars, just like Fitz.  She let go of Mai and started to release the other prisoners, one after the other.  Some of them got to work, finding their own knives; others looked around as if they expected Fitz to start barking orders.  Most of them, she decided, were probably bodyguards who had lost the ability to protect their charges before they even realised it.  A number clearly had some augmentation.

“Right,” Fitz said.  He cleared his throat.  “For those of you who don’t know what’s going on, this is a Secessionist base and the people you meant to protect are Secessionist hostages.  The Secessionists have a cunning plan that could mean complete disaster, so I’m afraid it's up to us to stop them.  It's also the only way to save your charges – they’re not going to kill them at once, but if their main plan comes off, the hostages will suddenly decline in value.”

He broke off.  “Where did you hide that?”

Mai giggled.  “Wouldn't you like to know?” she asked, as she held up a sonic screwdriver. “They slapped me around a bit and dumped me in here, but they never bothered to search me.  Don’t they know I always carry a sonic screwdriver?”

Fitz looked at her, his expression unreadable, then ordered her to start removing the collars.  Mai complied, starting with Fitz.  He looked visibly relieved as his collar came off.  Then he turned to the hostages.

“The only chance we have is for us to work together to take this base, liberate the hostages and capture as many of the Secessionists as possible before they escape.  As a Colonel in the Grenadier Guards, if retired, I am assuming command.  Would anyone like to object?”

There was a click as another suppressor collar fell to the floor.  The liberated bodyguard promptly went to work on another, while Mai moved on to the next person.

Mariko shook her head proudly, and then moved on herself – and stopped.  She recognised the man staring at her, his eyes wide with horror.  Carlos hadn't changed a bit since she’d last seen him, the day he’d watched her and Mai get beaten and then hauled off to jail for a show trial.  What was he doing on Tuff?

The answer was obvious, when she thought about it.  Carlos’s dad was part of the government, after all, and with so many men removed from Dorado the Secessionists would have little trouble securing control.  The government was so unpopular that there would hardly be a fight if most of it had already been decapitated.  And yet...she stared at him, feeling the knife in her hand.  He was bound and helpless; it would be easy to cut his throat for his crimes.  Mai was hardly the first girl he had tried to force into bed – of that she was sure – and she doubted that having them both thrown into jail was his first abuse of authority.  She could kill him...

Carlos whimpered, and tried to back away.

She barely noticed when Fitz put his hand on her shoulder.  “Your choice,” he said.  “I understand. If you want to cut his throat...”

Just for a moment, she understood Fitz a little better.  He cared, but at the same time he couldn't deal with all the evil he saw – and Carlos was a very small evil indeed.  And yet he had tormented his own people long before he’d ever crossed their path.  How could anyone tolerate his existence?

Her hand shaking, she reached out and sliced Carlos’s throat.  Mariko dropped the knife, staring at what she'd done, and then looked up at Fitz.  He understood.

Mai gasped as he slumped to the floor, bleeding to death.  None of the others seemed to care.

“Everyone free?”  Fitz demanded, as he strode back to the front of the room.  “Remember, we want prisoners. But if it comes down to the safety of our people, kill them all.”

With that, he led them out of the chamber and back up the stairs.

Chapter Thirty-Five

Fitz caught her as she reached the top of the stairs.  “I’m going to put everyone who isn’t augmented under your command,” he told her.

Mariko stared at him in disbelief.  After killing Carlos, she wanted to sit down and cry.  But there was no time.

“Keep back; let us handle the hard stuff.  And take care of the prisoners if you can.”  He smiled.  “Don’t put up with any crap, though.”

“No, sir.” Mariko reached out and embraced him.  “Don’t you dare get yourself killed.”

“I’ll do my best,” Fitz said.  “All right, everyone; let’s go.”

The line of augmented bodyguards followed him towards one of the Secessionist weapons rooms.  There were two guards in front of it, but neither of them was prepared for a sudden attack by a force of angry, augmented men.  They were both knocked down with minimal fuss and the weapons room was opened, allowing the bodyguards to pick up a hundred assault rifles, shotguns and hunting weapons.

Mariko kept her group back as the men filed out of the building and opened fire.  The outsiders seemed confused at first, and then returned fire.  None of them had expected trouble, Mariko realised, even though they were guarding prisoners the Imperium would do whatever it took to free.  And there were fewer of them than Mariko had expected.  Most of the Secessionist soldiers had apparently gone elsewhere.

But where?

The fight was short, but very savage.  Once they recovered from their surprise, the Secessionists tried to launch a counterattack against the building Mariko was holding.  The unaugmented men defended the building while Mai took over one of the communications consoles and tried to access a live feed from the Bruce Wayne.  Mariko glanced at it as soon as it started to stream from orbit and frowned.  It wasn't easy to tell the difference between the two sides, but it seemed as if most of Tuff had simply been abandoned by the enemy.  Lady Mary’s complex appeared nearly deserted.

“Call down the assault shuttle,” Mariko ordered.  “We’re going to need support if they have reinforcements in the jungle.”

Fitz had once told her that a successful Imperial Marine assault had turned into a disaster when automated systems had opened fire on the Marines, instead of the enemy force they needed to remove.  This was why no one trusted the shuttle's autopilot to fire on ground targets without human supervision.

The shooting was dying away as the remaining Secessionists were outflanked and rapidly wiped out.  Few tried to surrender.  The handful who did were marched into the prison cell formerly occupied by the bodyguards after a brief search and scan for augmented surprises.  Most of them didn't seem to be dedicated soldiers, only trainees with a handful of real soldiers to stiffen them up and provide lessons on military tactics.

But what had happened to the real soldiers?

Mariko wondered how many of the prisoners had been hurt in the crossfire and how many of them deserved it.  Most of the spoiled brats she’d seen on safari could do with some pain to remain them that their lifestyles were based upon the slavery of thousands of others.  But some of them didn't like to hunt; she'd seen that herself, the first time she was here.

Had the innocent been caught up with the guilty?

“Free the prisoners, and then prepare to head to Lady Mary’s compound,” Fitz ordered two of the augments, who went to unlock the cages.  “See if their vehicles are working...”

The assault shuttle flashed by overhead, spinning around to provide fire support if necessary.

“Good thinking,” Fitz complimented her.  Mariko felt herself blush.  “Call the shuttle in to land at the landing pad so I can load her up with volunteers.”

Some of the prisoners seemed to expect that they’d be taken home immediately.  They demanded that their bodyguards see to their needs personally, whatever the other demands on their time.  Mariko watched one of the bodyguards patiently try to explain that he was needed elsewhere, before stunning the aristocratic lady who had insisted, time and time again, that he take her home.  The fact he might not be able to take her home never seemed to occur to her.

How can they be so freaking unaware of the universe around them? Mariko thought as she clambered into the assault shuttle. How can they be so blind to how savagely they are hated?  The Secessionists had been remarkably disciplined, all things considered; their other enemies would be far less inclined to be merciful.

She took control of the shuttle and checked the live feed from Bruce Wayne.  Unsurprisingly, the vast number of starships in orbit had left orbit only a few hours after they’d been captured and dumped in the jungle.  Lady Mary’s people had made an attempt to get into the Bruce Wayne, but after the automated defences had fired warning shots, they’d backed off and left the modified ship alone.  Mariko couldn't understand why they hadn't simply blown her out of space, before realising that they probably wanted to dissect her to discover what Imperial Intelligence built into its modified hulls.

“Move,” Fitz yelled at his small team of augments.  Mai followed him, looking somewhat out of place compared to the tough men who were scrambling into the shuttle.  “Mariko – you ready to take us to the compound?”

Mariko ran her hand down the controls, bringing the engines online.  “As soon as you slam the hatch,” she yelled back.  “Now?”

Fitz banged the hatch closed.  “Now,” he ordered.  “Get us out of here!”

The shuttle leapt into the air and raced for Lady Mary’s compound.  Mariko silently blessed Fitz’s insistence that both she and Mai practice flying the assault shuttle until they were perfect, for the moment they headed towards the compound they picked up signs that there were automated defences hiding in the jungle.

Mai took control of the weapons and launched HVMs towards the hidden sensor systems, hoping to destroy them before they could open fire on the shuttle.  Great explosions billowed up from under the jungle canopy as they swooped down on the compound, heading right for Lady Mary’s lawn.

Mariko yanked the shuttle to a halt and then dropped down, landing with a bump.  Fitz and the other augments didn't seem to be particularly bothered by the hard landing.  Those who had combat experience, she decided, would have been through worse.

“Go, go, go,” Fitz yelled.

The augments spilled out of the shuttle, weapons in hand.  Smoke was still rising from the jungle, where Mariko’s missiles had taken out weapons pods and sensor platforms, but there was no sign of any resistance.  The entire compound seemed to have been abandoned.  Mariko looked towards the landing pads and saw nothing, not even the shuttle they’d used to land two days ago.  It felt as if they’d been on the planet for a lifetime.

She monitored Fitz’s progress as best as she could from the shuttle, watching through the sensors as the augments moved from room to room in the massive mansion.  The building appeared to be completely deserted.  There was no sign of anyone, human or alien.

But they didn't have the manpower to search it properly. She saw them discover hidden compartments and passageways allowing Lady Mary to move servants and rebels around without being seen by her guests.  Someone with access to the mansion’s internal sensors could have avoided them with relative ease.

“They’re all gone,” Fitz’s voice said, through the communicator.  “The birds have flown the nest.”

“Understood,” Mariko said.  “What do you want us to do?”

“For the moment, nothing,” Fitz said.  “I think I need to establish some order here.”

“Want me to work on the computers?”  Mai offered, eagerly.  “I might be able to pull something out of them.”

“I don’t think so,” Fitz said.  “The entire system has been melted down into slag.  My guess is that they don’t intend to come back here after...after they carry out the rest of their plan.”

Mariko cursed.  Whatever had been in those computers would be lost forever, she knew.  It was difficult to erase something permanently, particularly on a computer designed and produced by the Imperium, but vaporising the memory cells would definitely do it.  Lady Mary probably wouldn't have been foolish enough to keep all of the details of her plans on her planet, yet there might have been something they could use to guess where the Secessionists were going.  And then it dawned on her that there was only one place they could go.

“Fitz,” she said, slowly, “I think they’ve gone to Sumter.”

There, the Secessionists could try to make their plan work, despite the disruption they’d suffered at Tuff, or they could withdraw back into the shadows, giving the Imperium time to take precautions against an Imperium-wide wormhole collapse.  If they could take precautions...if they couldn’t find a counter, the Secessionists would just keep trying until they succeeded.

“I think so too,” Fitz admitted.  He’d clearly had the same thought.  The Secessionists could try to make their plan work, despite the disruption they’d suffered at Tuff, or they could withdraw back into the shadows, giving the Imperium time to take precautions against an Imperium-wide wormhole collapse.  If they could take precautions...if they couldn’t find a counter, the Secessionists would just keep trying until they succeeded.  “Either way, we have to go to Sumter ourselves.”

Mariko glanced at the screen as the Bruce Wayne forwarded an alert.  “There are multiple engine signals heading away from the rebel base,” she said.  “They’re coming this way.”

“Hopefully, that means that they got the rebel vehicles to work,” Fitz said.  “But stay on alert anyway, just in case.  There’s no proof that was the only rebel base on the planet.”

***

An hour later, Mariko was starting to wish that they’d killed more of the former hostages in the crossfire.  She’d never heard so much complaining in her life, particularly not from people who should know that they were lucky to be alive and free.  Aristocratic boys who seemed to think that the world revolved around them, girls who believed that everyone should drop to their knees and worship their beauty, older women who played political power games for fun...they were intolerable.

“I demand that you find us a flight off this world at once,” one of the older women was saying.  Her face had been scrubbed clean of makeup by the Secessionists, something else she’d been bitching about at great volume.  Mariko privately doubted that any amount of makeup would turn her face into something attractive, but her series of husbands had presumably disagreed.  “I intend to make sure that the Grand Senate hears about it in person and...”

Fitz studied her, shook his head, and turned away again.

The woman gasped, shocked by his dismissal.  Why didn’t she think that the Grand Senate had more important things to do than debate what had happened to an insignificant woman on an even more insignificant planet?  Mariko watched with some amusement as the woman was frogmarched out of the room by a pair of augmented bodyguards and escorted to one of the small rooms Lady Mary had prepared as love nests.  She could stay in there until starships arrived to lift the entire population off this rock and back to the Imperium.

“Now you know why I spend as little time in High Society as possible,” Fitz muttered, as soon as the woman was hauled out of the room.  “I take it you found no working shuttles?”

“No,” Mariko confirmed.  The handful of shuttles they’d located in hangers had had their guidance systems removed, a simple way to immobilise a shuttle without making it immediately obvious what they'd done.  “I think Lady Mary doesn't intend to come back.”

“Or if she does, it will be after she succeeds in bringing down the wormholes,” Fitz agreed.  “What did the hunting parties find?”

“They located enough food for” – she checked her datapad – “roughly six months, assuming they follow strict rationing procedures,” Mariko informed him.  “There's going to be a great deal of argument from the aristocrats over the rationing, Fitz.”

“That’s their problem,” Fitz said.  He snickered.  “Besides, they won’t have access to the body shops here.  They’ll have to actually work to keep their bodies unless they want them to go to fat.”

Mariko had to chuckle.  “There are some decent huntsmen among the former hostages,” she added.  “They may be able to shoot some animals we can eat and add to the rations that way.”

“I’d be careful about that,” Fitz said, thoughtfully.  “Tuff worked a great many surprises into his masterpiece.  I’d be surprised if some of the edible animals didn't turn out to be poisonous, if not cooked very carefully.  We did get to eat some of the meat from animals we shot, but Lady Mary’s staff always saw to their preparation.”

He shrugged.  “Maybe we can test it out on the complainers first,” he added.  “See if they get sick.  If not...better luck next time.”

Mariko giggled.  “Speaking of complainers, over a hundred have demanded passage on the Bruce Wayne back to Sumter,” she informed him.  “A number have offered cash bribes amounting to seventy thousand credits; others have threatened you and yours with all manner of political punishments if you refuse to give them passage.”

“And what would they do,” Fitz mused, “if the wormholes fell?”

He shook his head.  “Tell them that the Bruce Wayne has a special mission and cannot be used to transport anyone anywhere,” he said.  His face twisted into a grin.  “Such a pity we didn't bring the Happy Wanderer.  We could have stuffed everyone in the hold and forced them to endure it for a few weeks as we took the long way back home.”

Mariko shrugged.  “There’s not much else to tell you,” she said.  “When do you want to leave?”

“When do I want to leave?”  Fitz asked.  “Now.  When are we going to leave?  Shortly after I’ve had a chat with my second here, someone with enough augmentation and seniority to keep everyone else under control.”

“Understood,” Mariko said.  “What will happen to these people if the wormholes fall?”

“It would be bad,” Fitz said.  “Long-term, Tuff isn’t really a place for humans.  You can't grow human foods on the planet easily and what we can eat often comes with a sting in the tail.  And the devices that keep the most dangerous animals from going near the compound will eventually start to fail, because there will be no spare parts coming in.  Everyone here might wind up dead in a year if the wormholes fell and no one came back to check on them.”

“Or maybe they will build their own society,” Mariko said.

“Maybe,” Fitz agreed.  “I wonder how long it will be before it devolves into savagery?

Mariko walked over to the window and looked outside.  Hundreds of aristocrats were lying on the lawn near the shuttle, either trying to recover from their ordeal or hoping that there would be a chance to get onboard the shuttle and fly away from Tuff.  Very few of them were doing anything to actually help, even though there was plenty that needed to be done to get the compound ready for long-term survival.  How long would it be until their bodyguards realised that they were the ones in control – and that their charges could no longer call upon vast reserves of money and power to squash imprudent employees?  And then what would happen?

There was a click as the door opened.  “You wanted to see me, sir?”

The bodyguard looked surprisingly friendly, with a very pleasant face.  “Yes,” Fitz said.  “Listen carefully.”

Mariko slipped away as Fitz started to explain what was going to happen in the very near future – unless they managed to stop it.  She walked down to the shuttle and clambered in through the hatch, ignoring the pair of aristocrats who tried to push their way into the shuttle after her.  Both of them had to jump back to avoid having their hands mashed in the hatch as it closed.  Mai was sitting in the pilot’s console, running through a series of simulations using the data on wormholes Fitz had picked up on Sumter.  It hadn't been a very complete data package, he’d noted at the time.  The Imperium wanted to keep all details on wormholes classified as much as possible.

“I still don’t know what they intend to do,” Mai admitted, finally.  “I think I understand the basic equations, but I don’t quite see how they link into reality.”

The hatch opened behind them to admit Fitz.  “Take us to orbit,” he ordered, shortly.  “We’ve done all we can here.”

Mariko tapped the loudspeaker and spoke into it, knowing that it would be deafening on the outside of the hull.  “THIS SHUTTLE IS ABOUT TO TAKE OFF,” she said, as she brought the engines online and prepared to launch.  “PLEASE MOVE AWAY FOR YOUR OWN SAFETY.”

Fitz chuckled as they watched the aristocrats pick themselves up and run.  “I think that they have learned something from this,” he said.  “The universe doesn't bend to their will, no matter how much they scream and protest about it.”

Mariko grinned and gunned the engines.  The shuttle leapt into the bright sky and climbed towards orbit.  There was little else in space to worry about, but she kept one eye on the sensor feed anyway.  She wouldn't have put it past the Secessionists to mine local space, just to ensure that their hostages remained firmly stuck on the planet.  Mines were illegal, but then so was revolution.  She couldn't remember if destroying the wormholes was actually a crime – the Imperium wouldn’t have wanted to give people ideas – yet it hardly mattered.  It would be terrorism and treason on an unheard-of scale.

“So,” Mai asked.  “Now what?”

“Now?”  Fitz said.  “Now we stop Lady Mary, whatever the cost.”

Chapter Thirty-Six

“Take us out of orbit,” Fitz ordered, as soon as they were onboard the Bruce Wayne.  “Set course for...”

He hesitated.  Mariko understood; if the wormholes were already down, heading to the nearest wormhole would only add to the time it would take to reach Sumter through phase drive.  But if the wormholes were still active, they’d cut weeks off their transit time by heading to the nearest wormhole station.

“Take us to Ming,” he ordered, finally.  “A few extra days probably won’t make much difference if the wormholes are already gone.”

Mariko nodded and walked up to the command deck.  The ship’s automated systems were already blinking up reports, noting that there had been three attempts to enter the ship’s personal space – Imperial Law stated that a sphere of space around a ship was reserved exclusively for that ship, and could not be entered without permission or a valid warrant – and it had eventually resorted to firing warning shots to deter further attempts to land on its hull.  Mariko dismissed it impatiently and brought up the main drive, ignoring half of the checks to speed their departure from Tuff.

“I looked at the tracking data from the ships that left Tuff a day ago,” Fitz said.  “They all headed in the general direction of Ming, too.”

Mariko looked up at him.  “You think that their plan has already begun?”

“I think so,” Fitz said, “but it is extremely difficult to coordinate any sort of operation across interstellar distances.  Just ask Admiral Custer-Bomb.”

Mariko blinked.  “Who?”  She tapped the final command into the console and Bruce Wayne started sliding out of orbit, heading for the lower edge of the phase limit.

“He had a plan that looked great on paper,” Fitz explained.  “It called for three prongs of attack directed against a small alien empire, using the overwhelming might of the Imperial Navy to defeat them – it looked unbeatable.  But when the plan was actually launched, it was an absolute disaster; fleets were delayed, or unable to coordinate with the other fleets...the aliens managed to defeat two of the prongs before the third finally drove home and ended their threat.”

He shook his head.  “Lady Mary is smart, so I don’t think that she will repeat that mistake.  She should also know not to count on the wormholes; after all, she’s planning to destroy them.  So my guess is that the Secessionists have concentrated their forces somewhere nearby, without being detected, and she’s gone to join them.  At which point she will lead them against Sumter, presumably helped by a fifth column on the planet.”

Mariko nodded, slowly.  “So,” she said, “what are we going to do?”

“If we get there before the Secessionist fleet, we will warn Prather and the Admiral – and use priority codes to summon reinforcements from the Imperial Navy,” Fitz said.  “And if not...”

He shook his head.  “We will have to improvise.”

Bruce Wayne crossed the phase limit, picking up speed all the time.  “Take us into phase space,” Fitz ordered, “and push the drives as hard as you can.  They should endure long enough to get us to Ming.”

Mariko nodded, watching the power levels rise slowly, but surely.  Overloading a phase drive eventually led to it burning out, standing a starship in interstellar space if it happened at the wrong time.  Fitz was confident in his ship, but Mariko wasn't so sure.

Yet he was right.  If they reached Sumter before suffering a catastrophic drive failure, it would be worth the expense of rebuilding the ship’s drive from scratch.

“Here we go,” she said.  She glanced at the timer and scowled.  “Thirty-seven hours to Ming, assuming the drive manages to bear up under the strain.  Interstellar Couriers would be proud of us.”

“So would the Imperial Navy,” Fitz observed.  “Once we reach Sumter, we will assume Clark Kent mode instead of Wally West.  Assuming we get there first, of course.”

He shook his head again.  “There’s no point in speculating now,” he added.  “Make sure you get some sleep and...”

“You’re always telling us to sleep,” Mariko said, dryly.  “Or do you have something else in mind?”

“Better to sleep when you have the chance,” Fitz said.  “You might not be able to sleep when you need it.”

Mariko smiled.  “Military wisdom?”

“Something like that,” Fitz said.  He held out a hand.  “But something else would be good, too.”

***

Mariko lay on Fitz’s bed, looking up at the darkness of phase space.  It would be romantic if the stars were blazing down, she told herself, and then nearly burst out laughing.  How could she worry about romance at a time like this?

They were on their way to what might very well be a suicide mission.  Lady Mary wouldn't let the grass grow under her feet.  As soon as she had her fleet ready, she would move against Sumter and take the wormhole junction by force, perhaps with the help of the Snakes.  And then where would they be?

“You’re good,” she whispered.  It was true; Fitz was the best lover she’d had.  “Thank you.”

“I learned it in school,” Fitz said, with a wink.  “The spies academy taught me how to hit the G-spot every time.”

Mariko gaped at him and then burst out laughing.  “That...that is absurd!”

“Why?”  Fitz asked, seriously.  “You honestly think that Richardson is the only person who got into a compromising position because of his lusts?”

Mariko shrugged.  The thought had never occurred to her, and she said so.

“You’d be amazed at how many security headaches have started with someone being a little indiscreet,” Fitz informed her.  “Get a lusty young man into a bugged bedroom, give him a night to remember with a hot blonde right out of Central Casting – and then hit him with the pictures and a threat to inform everyone if he doesn't cooperate.”

He grinned.  “Or someone can be tricked into thinking that the hot little honey on their arm is actually in love with them.  It’s astonishing what people will say if they are very subtly interrogated after having sex.”

“You just like being disconcerting,” Mariko said.  She grinned, mischievously.  “Two people can play at that game.  When are we getting married?”

Fitz looked alarmed, just for a second.  “You do realise that being married to me isn’t going to be particularly safe?” he asked.  “Even if Lady Mary is killed before she can blow my cover throughout the entire Imperium, there will always be a chance that someone else will figure out the secret and target my wife in revenge.”

He hesitated.  “On the other hand, if I marry you, I probably won’t become my father’s Heir,” he said, thoughtfully.  “That sounds wonderful.  Marry me!”

They shared a laugh.

“More seriously, people do get pushed together when risking their lives,” he added.  “If you can still stand the sight of me a year from now, ask me then and we will see.”

Mariko nodded as one of his hands reached up to play with her breasts, and then let out a throaty sigh as his other hand moved between her legs.  “You’re still horny?” she asked.  “How long can you go on for?”

“Ah, the joys of augmentation,” Fitz said.  “Would you be surprised to hear that a boosted penis is everyone’s favourite present once they mature enough that they can take it?”

“Not at all,” Mariko said.  Such modifications were not common on Edo, but she could easily see the rich slipping off to a different world with more liberal laws to have it done.  “How easy is it to have it done?”

“If you’re old enough, very easy,” Fitz informed her.  “But there are some black clinics, too, that cater for those too young to have it done properly.  Sometimes it works; sometimes it leads to disaster and they have to have their penises repaired by proper doctors.  You’d think that people would listen when qualified doctors try to tell them that they can’t have their penises boosted until they’re older.”

“Idiocy is the essence of the male mind,” Mariko said archly, and then gasped as one of his fingers found a sensitive spot.  “And...”

Fitz rolled over and mounted her...and, for a long while, neither of them spoke again.

An hour later, Fitz stood up and walked across to one of his sealed cabinets.  “I’d like you to have something,” he said.  He opened the cabinet with his thumbprint and removed a small box, barely large enough to hold a wedding ring comfortably.  It opened, revealing a tiny golden cross on a long chain.  “This is something that was given to me by my superiors.”

Mariko picked it up and looked at it.  It was tiny, yet there was something about it that was nagging at her mind.  It felt familiar, even though she’d never seen it before in her life.  She turned it over and over again, until it finally clicked.  The long part of the cross was a datachip, covered in a very light sheath of gold.  She could have slipped it into any reader and accessed the data stored on the chip without needing to remove the gold first.

“Actually, you would need the right codes to access what’s stored on the chip,” Fitz said, “and if you tried to unlock it without the right codes the chip would vaporise, ruining your reader in the process.”

He took it from her hand and placed it around her neck, allowing it to dangle between her breasts.  “There are those of us who are fighting the decline of the Imperium,” he said, softly.  “We believe that we can gradually push the Imperium into reforming while standing off the threats that threaten to tear it apart, threats like the Secessionists or the Snakes or one of a hundred thousand different problems that appear out of nowhere because we don’t have the resources to nip them in the bud.  It isn't easy, but we’re doing our best.”

Mariko touched the cross with her hand as he looked at her.  “The golden cross is our symbol,” he said.  “It is modified to allow us to share data without compromising our identities.  Should I not survive this mission...”

“You will,” Mariko said, sharply.

“Should I not survive this mission,” Fitz continued, remorselessly, “please take it to Baron Yu, the Director of Imperial Intelligence.  The ID cards I gave you will get you into his office; give him the cross, report on everything that happened since I met you, and then see what he says about the future.  Can you do that for me?”

Mariko stared at him.  Fitz had saved them from a fate worse than death, even if he had been doing it to maintain his cover.  And then he’d treated them decently, before revealing his true nature and asking – asking – for help.  He was a decent person and Mariko – she would admit it to herself, if only in the privacy of her own mind – had fallen in love with him.  Not the aristocratic fop he pretended to be, but the real man under the mask.  And now she had to think about the prospect of him dying...

“I will,” she said, finally.  “But you’re not going to throw your life away, do you understand me?”

Fitz chuckled.  “Think about how many lives will be ruined if the wormholes fail,” he said.  “It makes the old Good of the Majority equation far too easy to solve.”

***

“So,” Mai asked, “when’s the wedding?”

Mariko blinked in surprise.  She’d showered with Fitz – showering with a man was strange and fun at the same time – before heading back to her own cabin to pick up a new shipsuit and some equipment.  It hadn't been until Mai had tapped on the door that she’d realised that she’d donned sexy underwear instinctively, wondering what Fitz would make of her dressed like that.  But Mai had had a crush on him...

“Wedding?” she repeated, trying to sound dumb.  “What wedding?”

Her sister gave her a pitying stare.  “I may not be quite as old as you, but I can read the subtle signs,” Mai said.  “I mean...you’re positively glowing.  And you’re wearing some of the underwear I picked back on Dorado.  And you and Fitz have been almost embarrassed around each other while I’ve been with you.”

She paused.  “Was it good?  Is he going to marry you?  Will you be his super-spy wife...?”

Mariko flushed.  She would almost have preferred Mai being upset.  It was hard not to sing and shout; she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror and realised what Mai meant.  She did look better.

“Yes, we’ve become lovers,” she confirmed, tiredly.  “And I don’t know what’s going to happen in the future.”

“Mother will want you to marry him, of course,” Mai said, dryly.

Mariko’s flush grew deeper.

“And I’m sure that father would be interested in all the contacts he could make with people very high up in the Imperium, just because his daughter married into one of the Grand Senate families.  All of their dreams for a dynasty would mean nothing, compared to the opportunities Fitz could offer them.”

Mariko stared at her sister, unsure what to say.  Their father had intended to use his daughters as pawns, although not, thankfully, as tradition from Ancient Japan would have dictated.  He had given them an education and he had given them some responsibilities – and perhaps he would have given them more, if they had stayed on Edo instead of heading out across the Imperium.  But he had intended to choose their partners, linking his family to others with industrial or shipbuilding concerns he could use to build his empire.

Mariko had resented it terribly.  In truth, part of her had seriously intended never to return to Edo.  The Happy Wanderer had been freedom, or at least it had been freedom before Carlos and his family had confiscated her and thrown the sisters in jail.

“I don’t want to marry for father’s contracts,” she said, finally.  “I want to marry for love.”

“So you can do both,” Mai pointed out, snidely.  “And I am sure that those elderly men mother was trying to set up with you will be so disappointed when Fitz puts a ring on your finger.”

Mariko glared at her sister.  “Mai, shut up or...”

Mai laughed.  “Or what?”  She demanded.  “I’m too old for you to spank any longer.  And besides, you’re the one who started experimenting with boys first.”

Mai was right.  She had sinned – or at least her mother would definitely see it that way.  And yet part of her found it hard to care.

“I was young and foolish,” Mariko said, finally.  “And now...”

“And now you’ve grown up,” Mai said.  “I watched you cut Carlos’s throat.  You didn't even bat an eyelid as he bled to death.”

Mariko remembered, even though she’d tried to push that memory down into the back of her mind.  But she also remembered what Carlos had done to them.  He was too dangerous to leave alive, even if he could never threaten them again.  God alone knew how many other victims he'd had over the years.

“I know,” she said.  “I know...”

And yet part of her was horrified by what she’d become.

Mai reached out and took her hand.  “I think that you and Fitz make a very good couple,” she said, after a moment.  “And if you get married, I want to be your Maid of Honour...”

Mariko started to laugh.  “If we get married, I’m sure there will be a place for you there,” Mariko assured her.  “But we have to survive the next few days first.”

The intercom buzzed before she could say anything else.  “Girls, we’re approaching the Ming System,” Fitz said.  “I suggest that you get into your shipsuits and then get up to the bridge.  We have work to do.”

***

There was little notable about the Ming System, save only its wormhole gate orbiting a safe distance from the colonised planet.  Settled for fifty years, Ming had required minimal adjustment before becoming habitable and currently boasted a population of upwards of fifty-seven thousand humans and an unknown number of aliens.  There was surprisingly little activity in the system’s asteroid belts, but as they returned to normal space sensors picked up no less than three mining platforms orbiting the gas giant.  Ming’s reputation as an interstellar fuel dump was clearly very important to the system’s growing economy.

“I’m picking up a data dump from the wormhole station,” Mai said, as they raced towards the giant ring.  Normally, there would be an entire line of freighters and other starships waiting to make transit.  Now, there were only a handful of ships, all gunboats, orbiting the gate.  “They’re warning that there is a military emergency underway in the Sumter System and all gate transits have been cancelled until further notice.”

“We’re too late,” Mariko breathed.

“Maybe,” Fitz said.  He took one of the consoles and began tapping in commands, using his priority codes to unlock the encrypted Imperial Navy signals being relayed through the gate to the gunboats.  “The wormholes are still active; they’re just holding back traffic because the system is under attack.  One moment.”

He spoke rapidly into the communications system.  “They’ve agreed to open up a wormhole for us,” he said, after five minutes of arguing.  The links are still working, thank God.  Without that we’d be in real trouble...”

Mariko nodded as the wormhole station sent them an updated transit pass.  The wormhole was already spinning open in front of them, ready to jump them right to the Sumter System – and right into the middle of a shooting war.

“All weapons and defences online,” Fitz said.  As an augment, he could control them with more precision than either of the girls.  “Take us into the fire.”

Chapter Thirty-Seven

“Report,” Fitz snapped, as they burst out of the wormhole.  “What’s going on out there?”

Mariko concentrated on flying the ship as Mai studied the live feed from the sensors.  “I’m not sure,” she admitted, finally.  “There’s a battle going on, but it’s hard to tell the difference between the two sides.”

“Shift a tactical analysis program into active mode and let it run through the combat patterns,” Fitz said.  He hesitated.  “I don’t understand.  Imperial Navy starships should be broadcasting IFF signals, at the very least.”

“Unless the other ships were also broadcasting Imperial Navy IFF signals,” Mai pointed out, slowly.  “The ships Richardson helped to disappear were all Imperial Navy designs.  If they all look like they belong to the Imperial Navy, and have the right IFF codes, who would be able to tell the difference?”

“A decent Admiral would know which ships were under his command,” Fitz said, bitterly.  “But no; they send out Admirals who are too dumb to turn into a threat along the Rim – and that makes them too dumb to deal with a clear and present danger to their command.”

Mariko barely heard him.  Three gunboats were arcing towards them, locking weapons on the Bruce Wayne.  They were clearly of Imperial Navy design, but who was flying them?  And then it occurred to her that there was another problem.  Those gunboats could be controlled by Imperial Navy loyalists under the impression that the Bruce Wayne was a Secessionist ship.  They might be blown out of space by friendly forces.

“The tactical program has identified two sides and a handful of ships that could belong to either,” Mai said, finally.  “I’m assuming that the Haverford remains the Admiral’s command ship, so his forces are the blue guys.”

Fitz swore out loud.  “They’re outnumbered,” he said, bitterly.  “What was he thinking when he sent away half of his command?”

Mariko flipped the ship around to evade the gunboats as they closed in for the kill.  “These guys are going to try to kill us unless we can talk them out of it,” she snapped.  “Which side are they on?”

“Unknown,” Mai said, sharply.  “They were merely guarding the station.”

“I’m trying to pull a tactical data dump from the Imperial Navy’s datanet,” Fitz said.  “I’ve shot the gunboats our ID...”

Bruce Wayne shook as pulse cannon blasts slammed into her shields.  “I think they’re unfriendly,” Mariko said, gunning the drives.  “Can you get rid of those shits?”

Bruce Wayne flipped around as Fitz took direct control of her weapons, firing back at the gunboats as they moved to follow his ship.  One of them took a direct hit and staggered out of formation, the other two closed in, firing repeated shots directly into the Bruce Wayne’s shields.  The ship was powerful, more powerful than anything else her size Mariko had ever seen, but she couldn't stand up to that bombardment forever.

And then Fitz scored a direct hit that wiped out one of the remaining two gunboats.

“Take us away from the junction, towards the system’s edge,” he ordered, designating a course.  His voice changed as something new popped up.  “The Imperial Navy’s datanet is badly scrambled.  I think the Secessionists probably had a willing collaborator somewhere on the planet, or in the orbital fortress.”

Mariko nodded as she threw the ship into another evasive pattern.  The gunboat maintained pursuit, firing furiously...and then simply backed off.  It puzzled her until she realised that the gunboats were intended to secure the wormhole junction, rather than chase down everything that might come through individual wormholes.  She took a glance at the tactical display and saw what Mai meant.  Two fleets were fighting it out near the planet, both composed of nothing heavier than battlecruisers – apart from a trio of outdated battleships from thousands of years ago.  The Secessionists had to have found them and renovated them, perhaps stealing them from a system defence force or a museum.  There had to be a reason why they’d been taken out of Imperial Navy service...

“They were always missile-heavy,” Fitz commented, when she asked him.  “Good enough in their day, but as primary armaments moved swiftly towards energy weapons, they were found to be too slow and underpowered to handle the demands from the new designs.  So eventually they were retired and offered to SDFs.  Most of them didn't keep the battleships for very long.”

Mai blinked.  “Why not?”

“They were also manpower intensive,” Fitz said, thoughtfully.  “They required crews of over ten thousand men if facing serious combat; there wasn't any of the automation we take for granted today.  The Secessionists have either stuck in a load of automated systems or they dug up enough trained crewmen to man the colossal ships.”  He shrugged.  “They wouldn't last longer than five minutes if they encountered modern warships.  One of them is clearly badly damaged despite facing lighter opposition.”

He scowled down at his console.  “It’s hard to make anything out of the electronic junk flashing through the system, but the Secessionists have clearly managed to take control of the wormhole junction control station,” he said.  “My guess is that the sooner they defeat the Sector Fleet, the sooner they can plug the wormholes leading out of the sector towards the Core Worlds.  It’s possible that...”

Mai looked over at him.  “Couldn't we get a link to the Happy Wanderer and download her sensor records?”

“Good thinking,” Fitz said.  Mariko noted that their course was taking them towards where the Happy Wanderer had been abandoned and smiled to herself.  Fitz had clearly had it in mind right from the start.  “Get in touch with her and see what she says?”

Mariko allowed Bruce Wayne to coast as they struggled to make sense of the broadcasts from the planet.  The Secessionists were trying to jam everything, but enough was making it through the hail of static to confirm that there had been a major uprising on Sumter and all was chaos.  There was no sign of the Governor; he’d either been killed at the start of the fighting or he’d isolated himself...or fled, the nasty part of her mind added.  She found herself wondering what had happened to Prather, assuming that he was still alive.  Had he been dirty?  Or was he still trying to hold out against the enemy?

“Got a link,” Mai said.  Mariko turned her attention to the download from the Happy Wanderer.  “I’m afraid it isn't good news.”

Mariko scowled as she watched the data scrolling up in front of her.  Happy Wanderer had monitored a number of emergency alerts from Sumter, including armed terrorists seizing buildings, space platforms and even raiding the orbital fortress itself.  A moment later, the Secessionist fleet had entered the system, dispatching a smaller force to take the junction while the main body of the fleet continued towards the planet.  There, it had engaged the defenders...and was currently winning.  No one seemed to have taken command of the Imperial Navy immediately and by the time someone had asserted himself, it had been too late to stop a dozen ships from being lost.

“That’s definitely not good news,” Fitz said.  He tapped through the updates.  “And they managed to take the junction station intact, which means they can presumably proceed with their plan to bring down the entire network.  But where are the Snakes?”

Mariko nodded in understanding.  They knew that the Snakes were backing the Secessionists, so where were they?  Adding a Snake task force to the Secessionist fleet would have ensured a victory at Sumter, rather than a long drawn-out battle.  But if they failed...

“They wouldn't want to be caught in the act,” she said, and outlined her reasoning.  “The Snakes won’t show their hand until the wormhole network goes down, completely.  If the Imperial Navy does manage to get here in force...”

“The Snakes would be doomed,” Fitz said.  “Assuming, of course, that the Grand Senate bothers to look up from its infighting to notice that the Snakes deserve punishment.”

He shook his head.  “That’s a moot point right now,” he added.  “The problem is getting onto the junction station and stopping them.”

“They have one hell of a sensor network surrounding the station,” Mai said, from her console.  “We take this ship, even cloaked, within a hundred thousand kilometres of the station and they’d have us.  The wormholes emit so much spatial distortion that cloaking devices are almost completely useless.”

“So they are,” Fitz agreed.  His smile grew wider.  “We’ll have to take the battlesuits.”

He looked over at Mariko.  “Take us in an arc that will loop us around behind the wormholes, but stay out of sensor range,” he ordered.  “At that distance, the cloaking device should still cover us effectively.  We’ll leave the Bruce Wayne there and move in while using battlesuits.  They’ll never be able to pick us out against the wormhole distortion.”

Mariko looked at him, levelly.  “And what if you’re wrong?”

“We die,” Fitz said, simply.  He shook his head.  “There’s nothing else we can do.  This ship doesn't have enough firepower to make a difference in the battle – and it won’t be for anything if the wormhole network goes down.  We have to get onto that station and yes, that means accepting some risks.  I’m sorry, but...”

“Don’t be,” Mariko said.  She lowered her eyes.  “I understand.”

Mai provided a welcome distraction.  “And what, precisely, are we going to do when we’re on the station?”

“I told you,” Fitz said.  He smiled, brilliantly.  “Improvise.”

Mariko set the automatic pilot to follow the course Fitz had laid out, before going down to the battlesuit compartment and waiting while Fitz unlocked the machines.

“I’d prefer heavier combat suits myself,” Fitz admitted, as the hatch slid open, “but I couldn't really hide them so effectively on this ship.  Besides, wearing them would be easier for their sensors to pick out when we get close to the station.  This way, we’re simply too small and stealthy to be detected.”

He motioned for Mai to take the first suit, and then unlocked the next one for Mariko.  “I downloaded a full set of station schematics while I was here last,” he added.  “You shouldn't have any difficulty finding your way through the station to the command and control centre.  Unfortunately, we cannot rely on Imperial Override Protocols working so effectively; the Secessionists have almost certainly wiped them from the network.”

Mai blinked, halfway through donning her suit.  “Imperial Override Protocols?  You mean the access codes buried in every Imperium-designed processor?”

Fitz nodded.

“Hah,” she said blackly.  “Most hackers can jam those up easily.”

“And don’t we just know it,” Fitz muttered, as Mai finished donning her suit and moved off to the airlock.  “Mariko...”

Mariko had hesitated instead of pulling on her suit.  “I know,” she said, quietly.

She reached out and kissed him, and then stepped back and started to don the suit, blinking hard to wipe the tears from her eyes.  Fitz would have said that it was a weakness in combat and he would have been right.  The metal helm came down over her face and she allowed herself a moment of relief.  At least no one could see her now.

“Are you ready?” she asked.

Fitz gave her a long, unreadable look and then started donning his own suit.  “One moment,” he said.  He turned to face her as he finished pulling the helm over his face.  “Shall we go?”

Mariko checked the feed from the ship’s computers.  “We’re in the right place,” she agreed, as he led the way down the corridor.  “I think it's time to go.”

She ran through a brief check of the suit’s systems; everything seemed to be working perfectly.  All weapons and manoeuvring systems were firmly online.  Data on the station scrolled in front of her eyes until she banished it with some irritation.  Multitasking was painful if she pushed herself too hard.

The airlock yawned open as she stepped inside and joined her sister.  Fitz followed, firing commands into the ship’s control systems as he closed the hatch behind them.  A moment later, the outer airlock began to hiss open, revealing a vague shimmer covering the silent stars of space.  They seemed to be twinkling, an optical illusion caused by the cloaking device.  Oddly, she found it comforting as the ship generated a tractor field, picking them up and pushing them out into the uncaring vastness of space.  The slight pressure faded away as they passed through the cloaking device and away from the ship.  Ahead of them, her suit’s sensors were already noting the presence of rogue gravity fields and exotic matter, the building blocks of the wormhole network.  And they were going to fly right through them...

She began to hyperventilate as the sheer scale of space struck home.  Mariko had travelled thousands of light years from Edo to Dorado, to say nothing of running all over the sector with Fitz, but she’d never truly grasped the sheer size of space.  She was insignificant on such a scale, less than a bug; the entire human race was insignificant.   No matter who won the political power struggle for control of the Imperium – or if the Secessionists succeeded in bringing down the wormholes and shattering the Imperium into a thousand independent states fighting for supremacy – the stars would continue to burn in the bright sky, unheeding and uncaring of the human race.  A children’s book series she had once read had claimed that there were vast entities of fire living in suns, floating through space in massive fireballs.  The young Mariko had been awed by the thought of such strangeness waiting to be discovered; the older Mariko knew that humans were nothing on such a scale.  What would the Imperium have done, she wondered, if it had ever encountered such creatures?  The myth of human superiority would be shattered forever.

“Warning,” the suit’s sensors chirped.  Mariko almost jumped out of her skin.  “Entering area of extreme gravimetric turbulence...”

Space seemed to come alive with twisted light as Mariko drifted into the area affected by the wormholes.  It was difficult to make sense of what she was seeing; sometimes, she was convinced that she was going to fly right into a wormhole, while at other times it seemed that the entire wormhole network was coming apart already.  Her radio buzzed with random chatter, mostly utterly beyond her comprehension; it took her a moment to realise that as the wormholes rotated through space, they caught up signals and tossed them right across the galaxy, scrambling them along the way.  Spacers sometimes told tales of encountering natural wormholes, some leading far beyond the borders of the Imperium.  Mariko had never placed much credence in those stories – they were on a par with whispers about strange, bat-shaped ships, completely black, spotted in uninhabited systems – but now...now she wondered.  There were parts of space where the gravity field was naturally twisted; could it be possible that wormholes could exist without human technology bringing them into existence?

She almost panicked as a colossal starship loomed up in front of her, before realising that it was an optical illusion.  The wormholes played tricks on the eyes as well as everything else; she couldn't recall seeing anything as huge as that starship in real life.  But then, she was tiny on a cosmic scale.  Even a light cruiser would seem immensely huge.  Or perhaps it was alien...there were always whispers about aliens further beyond the Rim than anyone dared to travel.  Alone in her suit, drifting through space, Mariko suddenly began to believe.  Perhaps, if Fitz’s cover was too badly burnt to be redeemed, they could take a survey ship and go exploring.

The final wormhole seemed to spin into life in front of her, her suit shaking as it was bombarded by tiny gravity pulses from the singularity.  Mariko closed her eyes as the manoeuvring thrusters provided compensation, wondering what would happen if the gravity pulses happened to form up on her suit.  She might be crushed to a pulp before even realising that there was a problem.  There was a final nudge from the wormholes and then she was drifting towards the control station.  It didn't seem to be aware of her existence.

It was huge, bigger than she’d realised.  Six colossal mushroom shapes, bound together at the centre of the station, each one providing the power to manipulate the wormholes and bend the fabric of space-time enough to link with another singularity light years away.  Slowly, it grew bigger as she drifted towards it, large enough to generate its own gravitational pull.  Or perhaps that was just the side-effect of manipulating so many singularities so rapidly.  Mai would probably have known the answer, but Mariko couldn't ask her, not without risking detection.

The suits passed unnoticed through the sensor grid and slowly tumbled towards the side of the station.  Mariko braced herself as the suit finally struck metal, firing a tiny burst of gas from the thrusters to slow her fall and impact.  Even so, the dull clang echoed in her ears and she was sure everyone inside the station had to have heard it.

Fitz landed beside her and pressed his hand against her suit’s receptor.  “Well, we made it,” he said.

Mariko wasn't so sure.  They might have reached the hull, but getting inside might be trickier.  Officially, the station listed upwards of two thousand crewmen.  But what had the Secessionists done to them?  There was no way to know.

“Now all we have to do is improvise,” he told her.

With that, he started to walk towards the closest airlock.  Mariko brought her weapons systems online, glanced at Mai and then followed Fitz into the airlock, once he had disconnected it from the overall hull monitoring system.  There was no longer any time to waste.

Chapter Thirty-Eight

The interior of the station felt dead, even though it was clearly in full operating order.  Fitz led the way, weapons ready, expecting to encounter armed Secessionists ready to resist their intrusion.  Instead, there was nothing barring their way into the station.  Mariko followed him in and glanced around, just as the suit’s sensors flashed automated warnings in front of her eyes.

The station’s atmosphere had been replaced by deadly poison gas.

“They killed everyone who didn't have protection,” Fitz said, grimly, as he started down the corridor.  “The gas is part of a security measure; even skin contact is enough to be lethal.  Most races would die if exposed to even minor concentrations of the gas.”

Mai shuddered.  “How did they manage to get it onto the station?”

“I suspect they had an ally in the security department with the right codes to trigger the gas,” Fitz said.

They turned a corner and saw their first body.  A young man lay on the ground, his face torn and twisted by agony.  Fitz knelt beside him and prodded him gently, but it was clear that he was a long way beyond help.

“Another traitor in a very important position,” Fitz said, bitterly.  “Even if we get out of this with the wormholes intact, we’re going to have problems as we start hunting down the traitors.”

Mariko could imagine it.  Imperial Intelligence would insist on checking everyone, but there were literally billions of people working for the Imperium.  Their checks would cause resentment, which would weaken the bonds holding the Imperium together even if they managed to root out all the spies and traitors.  And it was easy to see why so many would turn against the Imperium.  Promotion was based on who you were and who you knew, not by merit or even simple competence.  There would be millions of resentful officers in the Imperium’s service.  Prather had been annoyed to have Fitz poking around in his territory; how much worse would it be to watch people getting promoted above you just because of their connections, when you knew you could do a far better job?

As they kept walking, they saw hundreds more bodies scattered through the corridors, all killed by the gas.  A handful seemed to have been moved to one side by someone who had survived, but there were no other signs of other survivors.  Fitz wondered out loud if the Secessionists hadn't moved them, yet there was no way to be sure.

They reached the lift shaft and used armoured strength to tear it open.  All of the lifts would have been locked at the bottom as a security measure, but their suits could elevate them up the shaft towards the command centre.

“Come on,” Fitz said.  His suit drifted off the ground and floated up the shaft as the antigravity generators cut in.  Mariko followed him, allowing Mai to bring up the rear.  The interior of the shaft was pitch black, forcing them to use their sensors to navigate.  Mariko hoped that the enemy wasn't scanning for active sensors, or their presence would be detected.

Fitz halted at the top of the shaft and pointed towards another door. Mariko placed her fingers on the solid metal and pulled at it.  Mai joined her and, slowly, the hatch slid open.

She cursed as she realised that three figures stood in front of the lift shaft, spinning around to face them.  Fitz opened fire on them at once, unleashing the full power of his suit; Mariko and Mai opened fire a second later.  Bolts of energy tore through the figures' suits, ripping them to shreds; they collapsed to the deck and vaporised a second later.

Fitz studied their remains, puzzled.  “There is no logical reason why the Secessionists would rig their suits for self-destruction,” he announced, finally.  “So why did they do it?”

Mariko had to agree.  The suits were marvels of engineering.  They could have carried on the fight even if they had been penetrated by enemy fire.  Some of the simulations they’d carried out had shown suits continuing to fight even though their operator was dead.

They stopped outside a heavy metal security door and paused.  Mariko had studied the engineering specs on the station and knew that nothing short of a starship-grade phase cannon would burn through the armoured sheath protecting the command centre from mutiny, internal uprisings and boarding parties.  There was no point in unleashing the suits against the armour when it wouldn't even scar the metal.  Fitz hesitated – she knew that he wasn't going to stop now, balked by a solid metal hatch – and then rapped on the door with his fist.

A moment later, the hatch started to hiss open...and they came face-to-face with a pair of Snakes.

Fitz was on them like lightning, tearing through them with armoured force.  “Don’t damage the consoles,” he yelled, as Mariko followed him through the widening gap.  “Try and take one alive!”

There were nine Snakes in the compartment, all reaching for weapons.  Mariko allowed the suit to take over as she lunged towards the remaining aliens.  She went through them like a knife through butter.  But she wasn't able to take any of the Snakes alive.  As soon as they died, their bodies burst into flame and they crumbled to dust.

Mariko blinked in surprise, and then understood.  If the plot to collapse the wormholes failed, there would be no direct proof of their involvement, nothing that would galvanise the Empire against them.

Fitz sealed the hatch, cursing all the while, and then motioned for Mai to take the main console.  Mariko sat next to her sister, trying to understand the system in front of her.  It was more complex than anything she’d seen in her career.  Each station controlled one of the wormholes, all of which seemed to be unstable – except one.

The wormhole to Dachshund remained open.

“They’ve introduced some kind of feedback harmonic into the wormholes,” Mai said, finally.  She didn't sound confident, but then she wasn't a wormhole expert.  Professor Snider would probably have known precisely what to do and how to fix it.  “Something like a computer virus, but linked into the harmonics that hold the wormholes together.  I’m not sure how to dampen it.”

Fitz stared at her.  “Are you saying that we've failed?”

“I’m saying that we may collapse the wormholes ourselves while we try to fix them,” Mai said.  She sounded as if she were near tears; she hadn't trained for this, none of them had.  “And I don’t understand why they left one of the wormholes alone...”

Mariko peered down at the console controlling the Dachshund wormhole  “I think I do,” she said, after a moment.  There was a live FTL feed from the wormhole gate, after all.  “They’re bringing in another fleet.”

“Show me,” Fitz snapped.

Mariko tapped a control and shot the live feed over to the console he was occupying.  Thankfully, most Imperium equipment was standardised, even if there were additions here she didn't understand.

A hundred ships, mainly heavy cruiser-sized, appeared on the display.  “Those are Snake warships,” Fitz said.  “Shit!”

Mariko scowled.  The Snakes went for a more fearsome appearance than the blocky crudeness of Imperial Navy warships.  Each of their ships was painted in a bright snakeskin pattern, with bright eyes where the main weapons were positioned and teeth running along the underside of the hull.  If they’d been able to escape the same design constraints that dogged the Imperial Navy, their ships would probably have looked like classical snakes.

“But what are they doing?”  Mariko asked.  “Why didn't they come in with the Secessionists?”

Fitz pulled a live feed from the exterior sensors.  “The Secessionists are winning the battle,” he said.  The final remnants of the Imperial Navy were being forced back to the planet.  “Once the Imperial Navy ships are gone, the Snakes will presumably double-cross the Secessionists, destroy their ships and then bring down the wormholes for themselves.  They eliminate another possible threat and crush Sumter at the same time.  Brilliant.”

“Assuming that the wormholes go down,” Mariko pointed out.

“They might,” Mai said.  She was pulling sensor feeds from everywhere.  “I can see how the Dachshund wormhole is stabilised; instability must be a constant part of the system.  The gates use focused lasers to manipulate the exotic matter, resonating it together to create singularities.  So I can simply copy what they are doing to keep the other wormhole open to save the rest of the links, but I think that they may have managed to inflict enough damage to make it impossible to save the wormholes.”

Fitz swore.  “Do you mean to tell me that they’ve won?”

Mai looked up at him, her eyes hidden inside the suit’s armoured helm.  “Not exactly,” she said, flatly.  “I think we can cut one of the wormhole links ourselves, quickly enough to prevent the damage from spreading outside this sector.  We’d still lose the wormholes in this sector, but the rest of the Imperium would be safe.”

Mariko stared at her.  “Are you sure?”

“No,” Mai snapped at her.  “I think that the rogue harmonics they’ve introduced into the system are what will bring the entire wormhole network down, eventually.  They’re so subtle that the other stations won’t notice them at first until it’s too late.  If we cut off this part of the network, the rest is likely to be safe and...”

Mariko glanced back at her console as the alarm sounded.  The Snakes were preparing to make transit.  “They’re coming,” she said.  “And once they’re through, they’ll retake the station and start bringing down the rest of the network.  Shut the sector down now.”

“It can't be done that quickly,” Mai insisted.  “I need to bring down the link to the rest of the Imperium first, then we can concentrate on trying to save the sector’s wormholes – or bringing them down as painlessly as possible.”

She hesitated.  “But I think we can cheat...”

Fitz chuckled.  “I like the way you think,” he said.  “Do it.  Do it now!”

Mariko blinked at him.  He’d clearly figured out exactly what Mai had in mind.  But she was baffled.

Mai’s hands danced over the control panel.  “The wormholes are really nothing more than bridges between two singularities,” she said, “caused by both singularities resonating in the same harmonic pattern.  Thing is, there is no actual distance between the entrance and exit as long as the harmonics are maintained.  Understand?”

Mariko shook her head, knowing that Mai wouldn't be able to see it inside her helm.  “No,” she said, finally.  “What do you intend to do to them?”

On the display, the first of the Snake ships plunged into the wormhole – and came out of the other end a drifting wreck.  Others followed, spinning out in total disarray, even colliding with their fellows before they could escape...they weren't even trying to escape.  Mariko stared in absolute disbelief as the entire fleet poured out of the wormhole, some ships nothing more than piles of wreckage in a vaguely ship-like form.  And none of them seemed to be under any form of intelligent control.

“They’ll have to sweep the lanes before they can be used safety,” Fitz commented, with heavy satisfaction.  “Good work, Mai.”

Mariko found her voice.  “What happened to them?”

“She altered the distance between the two singularities,” Fitz said, quietly.  “For the Snakes, the voyage took over a million years.  They all died in the wormhole, hundreds of thousands of years before they reached the far end, while it took bare seconds for us.  I’d heard that it might be possible, but no one was ever willing to test the theory.”

Spacers told tales of being stranded out in interstellar space, forced to use stasis pods to remain alive while their ships crawled towards the nearest colonised star at sublight speeds.  It could take centuries to get home, even if they only had to cross a single light-year.  No wonder the Snakes were all dead.  Even the solidest technology built by the Imperium wouldn't last a million years.

“My God,” Mariko breathed, finally understanding.  “How...?”

Part of her felt sorry for the Snakes, trapped in a pocket dimension and crawling towards the edge with no hope of escape.  The rest of her knew what the Snakes had intended to do when they reached Sumter, starting with betraying their Secessionist allies.  They could have ripped the Sector apart, destroying the remaining Imperial Navy ships before they had a chance to concentrate their forces against the new foe...no, she wouldn't mourn for them.  But, spacer to spacer, she would pity their crews.  They’d died fighting entropy itself.

Mai swore as one of the consoles started to chime.  “The wormhole harmonics are reaching dangerous levels,” she said.  “We need to cut the link to the Imperium now.”

Fitz tapped his console, sending his final report through the Imperium’s datanet.  “Do it,” he ordered.  “Now.”

Mai ran her hand down the controls.  “Done,” she said.

Mariko shot her a questioning look.  She was starting to feel useless.

“I desynchronised the wormhole so badly that the link between it and its twin was cut sharply, before the rogue harmonics had a chance to infect the rest of the Imperium.  What they did was clever...”

“But can it be countered in future?”  Fitz asked, urgently.  “Can we stop them from trying it again?”

“I don’t see why not,” Mai admitted.  She nodded towards the consoles that monitored the wormholes, occasionally altering the singularities with modified lasers.  “The harmonics can be easily countered if you have the right tools and equipment.”

Mariko bit down a curse.  “I think we have a problem,” she said.  It was hard to be sure, reading through the wormhole distortion, but the pattern was becoming too clear to ignore.  “The remaining Secessionist ships are altering course.”

Fitz peered over her shoulder as the Secessionists scattered.  Most of the ships were retreating towards the phase limit, but one was coming towards the wormhole junction.  It read as a battlecruiser, although the files stored on the station refused to make a completely positive identification because it had been extensively modified by the Secessionists.  Behind them, the Imperial Navy ships on station had been crippled or destroyed by their enemies.  Mariko found herself wondering how the Imperium’s self-confidence would survive this day, even if the Imperium managed to survive.  Perhaps they’d take a tougher look at their safety precautions after this.

“That isn't good,” Fitz said.  He sounded...tired, too tired to continue.

Mariko realised that they'd completed their mission.  They had; the Imperium’s wormholes would not be coming down and his superiors had been warned about the dangers.  Whatever happened in the Sumter Sector, the Imperium would survive until the next crisis.

But that didn't make them safe.

“Lady Mary will want a little revenge for what we’ve done to her,” Fitz commented.

Mariko looked at him.  “So...what do we do?”

Fitz looked back at her.  “This station’s weapons have been disabled,” he said.  “Call in the Bruce Wayne; she can lift us off before Lady Mary opens fire.  And then we can escape, knowing that we have done our duty.”

Mariko linked into the Bruce Wayne and ordered the cloaked ship to head towards the station, but she didn't need to run a projection to know that they would be cutting it awfully tight.  Lady Mary’s sensors would probably be able to pick the ship out amidst the wormholes and if so, she’d simply open fire as soon as she entered range.  Bruce Wayne had had problems facing a light cruiser.  A battlecruiser would blow her apart before she could even return fire.

“I wonder...does she know what we’ve done?”  Mariko asked, out loud.  An idea was glimmering through her mind.  “Does she know that we have cut the wormhole link to the Imperium?”

“There’s no way to tell,” Mai said.  “All of the remaining wormholes in this sector are coming apart now; there’s nothing we can do to stop it.  The Wormhole Engineers will have to rebuild this part of the network from scratch.”

“Assuming they can,” Fitz said, tiredly.  It was quite possible that the Wormhole Engineers wouldn't be able to rebuild the network in the Sumter Sector for years.  They’d be busy trying to safeguard the remaining parts of the network first.  “This sector hasn't been very profitable for the Imperium.  They may just decide to write it off; leave it to the Snakes if they want it so desperately.  Or the Secessionists can do what they can for the Slimes and the other victims of the Imperium.”

Mariko took direct control of the Bruce Wayne as the little ship came into range.  Lady Mary’s battlecruiser was closing in rapidly, her sensors already locking onto the junction station and the small ship.  She keyed in a command for the Bruce Wayne to drop both shuttles and then alter course, launching drones to confuse Lady Mary’s sensors as much as possible.

Fitz caught her arm.  “I ought to hate you for this,” he said.  He knew what she had in mind, all right.  “But you’re right.  Do it.”

Mariko understood.  Few spacers would ever be happy losing their ships – and Fitz, whatever his flaws, loved the Bruce Wayne.  But there was no choice.  Quite calmly, she gunned the engines and forced the Bruce Wayne towards the battlecruiser at maximum acceleration.  There was a hint of hesitation from the battlecruiser and then she opened fire, too late.  The modified starship shrugged off the hits, evaded the missiles, and kept closing in...

Bruce Wayne impacted directly with the battlecruiser and both ships vanished from the universe in a tearing sheet of fire.  There were no survivors.

Chapter Thirty-Nine

Two of Homeworld’s three moons were rising in the sky as Mariko stared out over the endless cityscape.  Homeworld had been inhabited for so long that the cities had merged together into one giant metropolis, playing host to billions of humans and an uncounted number of aliens.  The High City, the very core of the Imperium, seemed to dominate the skyline for miles around, centred on the towering Imperial Palace, where the Childe Roland waited to achieve his majority.  It all seemed so safe and tranquil.

Thousands of aircars floated through the sky, while dozens of starships hung overhead, linked to the colossal orbital towers that formed Homeworld’s main link to the Imperium.  Mariko had been told that hundreds of thousands of citizens were deported every day, often for the merest of crimes, but such measures couldn't put more than the tiniest dent in Homeworld’s massive population.  Hundreds of starships carrying foodstuffs docked at the orbital towers, trying desperately to feed Homeworld; a single interruption in trade would be disastrous for the population.  And what would have happened, she asked herself, if Lady Mary had succeeded and interstellar trade had died along with the wormholes?  Homeworld would have collapsed into anarchy within the week.

She looked up as Fitz joined her on the balcony, placing one arm around her waist.  The flight back to Homeworld had been nightmarish, even though the Happy Wanderer had been untouched by the fighting around Sumter.  They hadn't been certain if the wormholes hadn’t collapsed, not until they’d crossed the sector line and entered the Glister Sector, the closest wormhole to Sumter that was still active.  Once they’d confirmed that the wormhole network was largely functioning, Fitz had used his emergency priority to get them to Homeworld over the next two days.  Mariko had never expected to see Homeworld – the trading cartels had the shipping locked up tight, which was a large part of the problem – but Fitz had been insistent.  They had to report to his superiors – and ensure that steps were taken to prevent anyone else trying to bring down the wormholes in the same way.

“Now the fun starts,” he said, dryly.

Mariko looked up at him.  “Fun?”

“Metaphorically speaking, of course,” Fitz said.  “We’re about to be debriefed by people who have rarely been in the field and know very little about the realities of active service.  And then we have to report to my...to my father.”

He shrugged.  “It won’t just be bad. It will be terrible.”

***

He was right.

Several days after entering the debriefing chamber, Mariko felt as if everything she knew had been torn from her mind, savagely questioned and then thrown back at her.  Some of the questioners seemed to know the subject matter better than she did; others were completely ignorant and didn't even try to hide it.  One of them even asked intrusive questions about her relationship with Fitz, as if that was any of his business.  Fitz had told her to answer all of the questions as completely and truthfully as possible, but it was hard to restrain herself from simply walking out of the chamber and going back to the ship.  Meeting Fitz again after the end of the sessions was a relief.

He looked as harried as she felt.  The interrogation – and it had been an interrogation – hadn't been aimed specifically at her.  This pleased her in some strange way she couldn't quite identify.

“I heard that Mai has been accepted into the Wormhole Engineers,” Fitz said, as they walked towards an aircar seated on its pad.  “They’ll make sure that she becomes a fine engineer – or dies trying.  And they’re terribly shocked by everything that happened on Sumter.  Mai might be able to kick them out of their complacency.”

“They seem to be the only ones who care,” Mariko said, sourly.  “Do you know that one of them even asked how many times we’d had sex before we fought at Sumter?”

“That will be from the Human Resources bastards, fiends in human form,” Fitz said.  There seemed to be a great many demons in human form scattered throughout the Imperium.  “They aren't allowed to play a direct role in running Imperial Intelligence, so they do their best to make it harder for the rest of us.  They’ve barred good agents from entering the field and cleared agents who had breakdowns while on active service.  I think they were probably trying to draw up a psychological profile of you while listening to your answers.”

Mariko snorted as the aircar took off and steered towards one of the gleaming towers that housed the Grand Senate families.  Each of the towers was larger than anything built on Edo – and tiny compared to the colossal orbital towers that reached all the way to low orbit.  Homeworld had very strict laws on what could and could not be flown into its atmosphere, for reasons that made little sense to Mariko.  She wouldn't have been surprised to discover that environmental concerns were simply a cover for maintaining the orbital tower monopoly on surface-to-space transport.

“There used to be a Professor at the Imperial Academy who claimed that Homeworld wasn't the true human homeworld,” Fitz said, changing the subject.

Mariko glanced at him in surprise.

“He studied the patterns of human settlement and claimed that the true homeworld was located somewhere in the Tau Ceti Sector.  That isn't an uncommon claim over historians who debate the question of just what happened before the Imperium, and if he’d stuck to it he might never have run into trouble.  But instead he started to ask hard questions about the current state of the Imperium.”

Mariko shivered at the warning in his voice.  “What happened to him?”

“He lost his position, had himself and his family reclassified as Class Three...I think that some of my allies did something to mitigate the punishment, but asking the wrong questions can be disastrous these days.  Bear that in mind.”  Fitz shrugged, grimly.  “There are far too many people who would prefer to bury inconvenient truths rather than admit them to everyone else.”

“Like Imperial Intelligence,” Mariko said, quietly.  All of the officers she’d dealt with, apart from Fitz himself, had warned her at the end of each session that what she’d heard was not to be talked about, on pain of life imprisonment on a penal world.  “They don’t want everyone to know how badly they failed.”

Fitz nodded.  “There’s no way to tell, now, if Prather was dirty or if someone in his organisation stuck a knife in his back,” he said.  “Either way, Imperial Intelligence dropped the ball on this one; if we hadn't come along, the Imperium would be trying to deal with the loss of all of the wormholes, not just a handful in a single sector.  The last thing they want is the Grand Senate to hold an open inquiry into their failure.”

Mariko nodded and held her tongue as the aircar dropped down towards a landing pad.  Outside, a trio of maids were waiting for them, along with a single gentleman she didn't recognise.  The maids dragged her away almost as soon as the aircar landed, leaving Fitz behind with the gentleman.  Mariko gave up struggling as they pulled her into a dressing room, undressed her and started to bathe her with scented water.  If this was the kind of treatment aristocratic girls like the twins received all the time, no wonder they were all spoiled brats.  By the time the maids were finished, having washed and braided her hair, dressed her in a simple dress and attached jewellery to her ears and neck, Mariko felt a completely different person.  She almost didn't recognise herself in the mirror.

The maids escorted her out to where Fitz was waiting, wearing a suit that reminded her of the one he’d worn when they’d first met – and had been lost on the Bruce Wayne.  He winked at her, gave her a chaste kiss on her cheek to avoid damaging the makeup, and then took her by the hand and walked her down the corridor and into a dining room.  Mariko half-expected to be announced again, just as they had been on Tuff, but instead there were only a small number of guests at the table.  Fitz smiled as he pulled out a chair for her and then sat next to her.  At her puzzled look, he made introductions.

Baron Yu was a man who reminded her of her grandfather, apart from the beard he’d cultivated to give him an air of distinction.  His face was wizened and old, but his eyes were still sharp and there was something about him that told her that he should be taken very seriously.  Prather had identified him as the Director of Imperial Intelligence, back on Sumter – and probably Fitz’s immediate superior.  All of the Priority-One Agents reported directly to him, circumventing the bureaucracy that infested Imperial Intelligence.

Grand Senator Hercules Grytpype-Thynne, Fitz’s father, was an older version of his son, once-dark hair slowly turning to grey despite the rejuvenation treatments.  His handshake was firm; his gaze lingered on Mariko’s face rather than looking down at her chest.  Fitz was a formidable man; Mariko realised, as he sat back, that his father was just as formidable...and probably the leader of the cabal that was trying to save the Imperium.

The third man was unnamed, purposefully.  He was short and squat, with a bulldog face and tight outfit that hinted at a very well trained body.  His gaze was thoughtful, but there was a suggestion of extreme violence floating around him.  Whoever he was, Mariko realised, he had to be important – and recognisable.  No wonder Fitz hadn't been willing to name him outright.

“We understand that we have a great deal to thank you for,” Baron Yu said, once the waitresses had delivered the first course, a form of chicken soup.  “Without you, the Imperium would have come to a crashing halt.”

Mariko flushed at the praise, but said nothing.

“That is correct,” Fitz said, into the silence.  “Without Mariko and her sister, the Imperium would have been lost to us.”

“But you have also put us in a worrisome position,” Baron Yu continued, as if Fitz hadn't spoken.  “You and your sister know too much, in effect, to be allowed to roam freely around the Imperium.”

“Your gratitude knows no bounds,” Mariko said, sarcastically.

There was a harsh bark of laughter from the unnamed man.  “I can understand that you would feel bitter about being told that your life is no longer your own,” he said, in a gravelly voice.  “But you do realise that we cannot take the risk of Lady Mary trying again – or someone else, for that matter?”

“Lady Mary is dead,” Mariko protested.

“Presumed dead,” Fitz corrected, grimly.  “We assume that she has been killed, and we hope that she has been killed, but we do not know that she has been killed.  And finding out the truth may be completely impossible unless she resurfaces somewhere else.”

“The important thing is that we cannot let anyone know how close we came to disaster,” Baron Yu said.  “We have taken steps to prevent a general wormhole collapse – and we have explained away the collapse of the wormholes in the Sumter Sector as being caused by a random failure in the monitoring systems.  The Secessionists will dispute our version of the truth, of course, but they will not be believed.”

Mariko doubted that, but kept her opinion to herself.

“We have sent ships to pick up the refugees on Tuff – and others to investigate Greenland,” Grytpype-Thynne said.  The Grand Senator sounded impatient, as if he had much more important work to do elsewhere.  “I can assure you that Greenland’s profitability will fall sharply even without the collapse of the wormholes.  With Lady Mary’s estates seized as part of the effort to mop up her network, there will be a chance to undo the damage inflicted on the Slimes by their overlords.”

“They won’t like that,” the unnamed man pointed out, with some amusement.

“Too bad,” Grytpype-Thynne said.  “I think there will be bipartisan support on this one – and Mary’s family won’t say anything about it, not when one of their daughters turned into the greatest traitor since Court Dearborn.  The League of Alien Allies can have a chance to show what they can do to aid aliens who genuinely need help.”

“Which raises the question of what to do about the Snakes,” Fitz said.  “They funded an attack on us.”

“And lost a chunk of their fleet, thanks to you and your allies,” his father said.  He shook his head.  “The Grand Senate won’t support a declaration of war.”

“Because the Imperial Navy isn't ready for war,” Fitz said, sharply.  “And because you’re scared of raising up an Admiral who might rise against you.  Who cares about the people threatened by the Snakes when your power might be threatened?”

“You are out of line,” Grytpype-Thynne snapped.

“I would say that he was quite right,” the unnamed man said.

“The point is that we need to ensure that word does not spread,” Baron Yu said.

Mariko felt a lump of ice congeal in her stomach as he looked at her.

“Your sister is under the care of the Wormhole Engineers – they never talk to anyone.  You, however, are a different case.”

“My son feels that you would make a good agent for the Imperium, like himself,” Grytpype-Thynne said.  “We can provide you with training and augmentation that will prevent you from passing on classified information, deliberately or otherwise.  And we can offer you a chance to actually serve the Imperium in a way that few are ever offered.”

“And we can make some offers to your parents that will stop them from complaining too loudly,” Fitz interjected.

Grytpype-Thynne shot his son a hard look.  “The alternative is we find you a comfortable place to spend the rest of your life,” he continued.  “It will be a prison, no matter how comfortable.  I am sorry to even suggest this, because you do deserve better, but if word of this ever leaks out...”

Mariko looked at Fitz.

“Stay and work with me,” he urged.  “There’s always something to do on the Imperium’s Secret Service.”

“You lost your ship,” Mariko reminded him.

“There will be others,” Fitz said, as if he hadn't moped around the Happy Wanderer for two weeks after leaving Sumter behind.  “And besides, my cover may have been frayed rather badly over the last few months.  Lady Mary will certainly know who I am, if she survived.  I will have to devise a new cover, one that will protect us both.”

Mariko looked up at Grytpype-Thynne, and then at Baron Yu.  They were both used to wielding power on a scale that was beyond her comprehension, making decisions that affected the lives of billions of people.  And yet they were helpless against the forces threatening to rip the Imperium apart, left using people like Fitz and her to patch holes in the ship of state, knowing that a single tidal wave could sink it and drop the entire Imperium into chaos.  Below their controlled faces lay desperation.  They knew they had come within a hairsbreadth of losing everything.  The next time they might not be so lucky.

And they were right.  Lady Mary had identified Mariko as well.  If she somehow managed to resume flying around the Imperium, the Secessionists might go after her for revenge – or on the assumption that she knew more than she did.  Either way, she would wind up dead, or worse.  And she wanted to be with Fitz.

“Mai will be taken care of?” she asked.

“The Wormhole Engineers will train her, shape her talent and put her to work,” Fitz said.  “I think she was never happier when she was working on engineering problems.  She’ll be happy and you can see her when your paths cross.  I’ll see to it personally.”

She lifted her eyes to meet Baron Yu’s eyes.  “Very well,” she said.  “I will join you.”

Fitz grinned.  “Then allow me to be the first to congratulate you,” he said.  “I think you’ve already passed the first exams.  Welcome to the Imperium’s Secret Service.”

The End