The entire class sat up a little straighter on their stone benches.
“There is a reception for the Grand Marshall in the garden in two days. There will be several fleet commanders there, along with several branch heads. Our commander, Maris Von Unterbell, is also going to attend this function, and he would like all of you to join him.” The senior instructor smiled. “But I am afraid none of you has invitations. The rest of the instructing staff and I will be there, enjoying fancy cocktails and the finest foods of the Etelainen, but you are not invited.” His smile grew into a broad grin. “But, as you’ve heard, our commander is very intent on seeing you all there.”
“Oh, shit.” Kixz let out from the front row.
The senior instructor nodded his head. “Glad someone figured it out.” He smiled at Kixz. “Your final examination is to travel to Mechcharga and get yourselves to that garden party.” He looked over the class. “By any means necessary, bar killing anyone. You have received training on stealth and evasion and some spy-craft; you are trained for this.” Looking back at the data-screen, he switched screens to show a list of primary mission parameters for the candidates.
“Have a look at this screen.” The instructor moved to a point where all the candidates could see the screen. “You will be transported to AnBarn Central, where you will be given ten-thousand in credits and some goods to barter to cover your travel and operational costs. You are not allowed to steal anything from citizens of the Alliance on this mission, so use your resources carefully.
“From AnBarn, you are on your own. Your mission is to arrive at the royal gardens in time for the reception.” The instructor paused. “The Royal Guard has been advised to expect you, and they will be intent on stopping you from making them look like fools, now, you can use any non-lethal measures you like to defend yourselves against them if necessary.”
The instructor walked back to the monitor and switched it back to a view of the royal palace and the gardens. “A few final rules of engagement.” He pointed at the palace. “You are not allowed to enter the palace at any time, and if you encounter any non-Guard personnel that are military or members of the government, you will treat them with the proper respect that their title holds. This mission is not an opportunity to run amuck on AnBarn Central or Mechcharga.” He walked back to the middle of the room. “You have six hours to tend to any personal business and conduct pre-mission planning in the training operations room. There will be droids and instructors on hand to help with planning. After those six hours, we will go to the quartermaster and draw whatever civilian or other attire you want for this mission, and then catch a ride to AnBarn, where we will let you on your way.” He took in a deep breath and looked around the room. “This test will be judged on several criteria, and after it, we will determine which of you will join active D-O teams, and which will be allowed to retrain, or be sent back to your parent organisations.”
39
The Present
Porth
Standish skimmed the flight details. A jump to the Fury system was plotted into the ship's computer. The Melcore Combine controlled a vast area of space, but the Fury system was the place to start her search. During the years of the Empire, Fury 161 had significant shipbuilding yards in orbit, and with that, carried a slightly sleazy reputation, even for a Core world.
Alliance Intelligence had suspicions that the Fury system was controlled by a syndicate, although they hadn’t confirmed it was the Melcore Combine. Whenever ships patrolled the system, they never encountered hostile bandits, but there was always the acceptance that they were lurking somewhere nearby.
40
The Past
Guhr 8-Nine
Standish was looking at the rack of civilian clothes that were available for them to select from, which was equally impressive as it was diverse. To help them in their planning, they had access to a database of imagery from Mechcharga and were able to select items that were fashionable on the planet. There was also a selection of military and other uniforms and garb from various sects and several niche pieces. Standish took her time with her choice. She had already formulated a plan, but she was curious to see what direction the rest of the candidates would go.
With her decision finally made, Standish picked out a set of coveralls and a very stylish dress that was considered in fashion on Mechcharga which consisted of a slightly bulbous skirt, a corset and a very elaborate chest cover and with large shoulder boards. Everything was in an immaculate white made out of the most exquisite lace she had ever seen. When asked where it had come from, the quartermaster informed her in a low voice that one of the instructors had woken up with it in their room, and was so intoxicated from the night before, they hadn’t remembered who or where it came from. Luckily for Standish, the item fit perfectly.
After packing the dress and ensuring that her personal items in her living space were put away, she joined the rest of the candidates at the front of the old temple and waited for their instructors to arrive. Most had chosen to wear a pair of very non-descript overalls for the transit to AnBarn Central, but some had decided to wear their costumes right away.
Several had gone with military uniforms, one candidate dressed as a high priest from The Lamana Cloud World. When one of the instructors asked, knowing that the candidate wasn’t from there, if they knew anything about the planet. When he received a negative reply, the instructor burst out laughing.
“You are so fucked!” He roared out loud, looking at the other instructors. “I’ll take bets this idiot will be captured first.” He pointed at the make-believe priest.
Standish, like the rest of the candidates, tried to hide their joy at watching one of their competitor’s squirm. She knew that the Dynamic Operations program could take all the candidates or none of them, but she was also keenly aware that they needed only the best operators, and the higher she was ranked in the class, the better her odds became.
After another ten minutes of waiting, a ship became visible on the horizon and landed about one hundred metres in front of the temple. Following the lead of the senior instructor, the trainees filed behind him towards the transport and boarded it in silence. Standish didn’t recognize the configuration of the ship, it was not a military vessel based on its hull design and external appearance, but once they were inside, it was clear that the vessel was some kind of infiltrator with modular compartments in the large central hold that carried surveillance, counter-surveillance, electronic warfare suites, and a full armoury including state of the art gear.
The remaining recruits were put in an empty corner of the hold and left with the senior instructor who gave them a final brief.
“Final prep-time children.” He said in his usual tone. He produced a small bag from his breast pocket and pulled out twenty-eight bracelets. “Each one of these bracelets has ten-thousand credits on it. That is more than enough to get yourselves from AnBarn Central to Mechcharga. Use the remaining credits how you see fit.” He started passing out the bracelets. “For those of you still in coveralls, you can change now, or wait, the decision is yours.”
Standish took a bracelet when the instructor finally reached her. Slipping it on her wrist, she checked the balance and confirmed that all 10K credits were there. Keeping a tight grip on her bag, she decided to keep her coveralls on for the time being. Standish didn’t know anything about AnBarn Central, but she was confident that she didn’t want to be wearing a piece of couture in a spaceport.
“Prepare to jump.” The broadcast was like every other one she had heard.
“AnBarn System.”
That was fast, Standish thought to herself. She had anticipated that it would take more than one jump to get to their drop off point, and she could tell from the expression on the faces of the other candidates that they were also a little bit shocked.
“When we dock on the station, you’ll be free to exit the ship at your leisure. Just remember that you need to be in the Royal Gardens on Mechcharga at the designated hour, so you don�
��t need to rush, but at the same time, you can’t doddle.” The senior said, his hands on his hips.
“Down in ten minutes.” It was the final broadcast from the bridge.
When the ship finally landed, the senior took the candidates back to the primary hatch and had them form up in a neat and clean line. “You’re a ship's crew or passengers disembarking for shore leave or to catch another vessel. Nothing fancy about it. Very routine. Just walk off the ship and make your way into the station and act like you’ve done this hundreds of times before.” The senior instructor moved to the hatch controls and waited until the light next to the door flashed green. “And just remember, if at any time something goes wrong, find the nearest Alliance official, identify yourself and inform them that you are from a training installation on Guhr 8-Nine, and need to contact the centre. We’ll come and get you. Then throw you off the course.” He smiled and hit the open button. “See you on Mechcharga.”
The ramp started to lower slowly. Standish was in the middle of the queue and leaned just slightly to her right and looked past the rest of the candidates towards the exit. Outside she could see nothing other and a light grey looking corridor. It was featureless and quiet. When the line started to move, Standish tightened her grip on her bag and followed the leading candidates down the ramp and onto the relatively deserted corridor. The hallway was two metres high, and about the three metres wide. It was coloured grey and had red accents running down the middle of the walls. There was writing on the wall at the end of the ramp in Universal and the native language which Standish couldn’t read. Reaching the first junction, Standish quickly checked the directions. The hallway to her left lead to the main hall of the spaceport, while the hallway to the right led to other gates and landing pads, along with several waiting lounges. It seemed clear that left was the only real option.
Without giving it a second thought, Standish turned left and started walking. After a five-minute walk, she reached another junction that joined onto a large passageway that was bustling with activity.
Looking to her left and right, Standish realised that she in the south terminal, which linked to a northern terminus by the passageway. Spotting a sign for the main lobby, she trusted her instincts and headed in that direction.
As she made her way to what she hoped would be the nerve centre of the port, she took the time to take in her surroundings and the other individuals that were moving about the hallway. There was representation from dozens of worlds present and exotic creatures that Standish had never seen before. A giant pink coloured droid walked by with a massive six-legged beast clawing at the floor while a muzzle kept its powerful jaws shut.
It was clear to her that this was not the kind of rough and tumble spaceport that she’d see along the Borders or near the Reach. While she couldn’t see any law enforcement, she could tell that the port was very safe.
Dressed in her simple overalls, she was the most casually dressed among those walking about. Perhaps it was time to change into her costume, she thought to herself. Spotting a rest facility, she ducked in, found a large cubical, and went about the elaborate and laborious process of putting on the elegant dress she had procured.
Checking herself in the mirror, she was happy with her appearance. Looking at her overalls and her bag, she folded them neatly, then left them in the corner of the cubical. She gave herself a final look in the mirror and smiled. She had never worn anything like it her life, and she was amazed by how the beautiful white fabric looked and how it played off her white and blue skin. The dress was revealing, something Standish was slightly conscious about, showcasing her impressive physique, but it was gorgeous and breathtaking at the same time.
Satisfied with her appearance, Standish exited the cubical, then stepped back onto the busy spaceport hallway. It became apparent immediately that people were giving her a long stare. Eyeing her up and down. It was mostly looks of disapproval, before looking away in shock. She wasn’t sure what was wrong, but it made her suddenly feel self-conscious. As she continued her walk towards the main concourse, she noticed that other females gave her condemning glances, while the males gave her looks that suggested one thing only.
Reaching the main concourse, she marvelled at the four-story domed structure that rose up above her head. There were signs in a myriad of languages giving information on departures and arrivals, along with signs showing the way to various shopping and services that were available in the spaceport.
Taking in a deep breath, Standish looked for directions towards bookings, but before she could take a single step, an elderly female, from a species that Standish didn’t recognize, covered in brown skin and a light red ponytail stopped in front of her, and proceeded to give her a look from head to toe that reminded her of what an instructor would do on a uniform inspection.
“Late night, dear?” The old female asked.
Standish blinked twice. “Excuse me.”
The old woman stepped closer. “My dear, where is your make up?” She looked up to Standish’s blue and white coloured hair. “And you haven’t done your hair.” She shook her head. Squinting her eyes, she looked at Standish’s exposed arms and midsection, then took a step back. “Rather fit, aren’t we?”
Standish looked at her arms, then back to the female.
“I have two hours until my connection.” She reached forward and grabbed Standish by the arm. “We really must have you tended to.” She said and started pulling Standish along.
“Ma’am, I must be on my way.” Standish attempted to protest.
“What a horrible accent you have.” The old lady shook her head. “But that dress! Amazing. You must tell me who made it for you.” She continued to pull Standish through the busy foyer towards a bank of lifts. “But we really must fix that hair and makeup. People will think the wrong things.”
Standish opened her mouth to reply, but nothing came out. She let the lady drag her into the lift and watched as the doors closed.
“Third floor.” The lady said.
“Third floor.” The lift answered back.
When they reached their destination, the woman led Standish out of the lift, and to the entrance of a very chic beauty parlour. “I always visit here when I’m waiting for a connection.” The lady said, leading Standish inside.
Once they were through the front doors, Standish was suddenly immersed in a heavy dose of perfume, pink, and very soothing music. Walking straight up to a wide, metallic silver desk, they were greeted by a female with three eyes in the centre of her forehead, and no other visible features on her head.
“Two for a quick hair and make-up service.” The old lady said, then looked up to Standish. “I don’t have all day, but don’t worry, they have the best droid stylists in the system here.”
Standish just smiled and looked back at the three-eyed female who was holding out a very lightweight plastic bathrobe which Standish took, and before she knew it, she was changed out of her dress and sitting in a chair with an extremely expensive and elaborate droid standing over her.
“What style?” The droid asked in Standish’s native tongue.
That put a smile on her face, and she looked over to the old lady. “What do you think?” She asked in Universal.
The old female pursed her lips and looked at the droid. “Something modern but elegant. Something appropriate for a formal occasion.” She touched her finger to her lips. “And makeup should be elegant and minimal.”
Less than an hour later, Standish was back in her dress, standing in front of a floor to ceiling mirror in the main room of the salon. She was flanked by the stylist droid and the old lady. Standish almost couldn’t believe that she was looking at herself. She had never seen herself look like that in her life. She had never worn make-up like that in her youth, such things were the pleasures of the wealthy. She had also only had her hair tended to by family, friends and military cutters or auto-barbers. She had never had a professional droid give her a complete styling before.
“Don’t
you look marvellous?” The old lady said.
Standish smiled down at her, then rechecked herself in the mirror. Her hair had been put up, with a slight twirl to it. The droid had told her it was the hottest fashion on Porth, and her make-up featured blue highlights around her eyes and delicate additions of a dark purple to her cheekbones, and along her jawline, supposedly a style worn in the palaces on Mella II. It was a lot to take in for Standish, and on some level, she could not even believe that she was looking at herself. Her exposed arms were also given some purple highlights to show off their definition.
“That will be eighty thousand credits.” The droid said gently. “I’m glad you like the final result.”
Eighty. Thousand. Credits. Standish swallowed hard. The number was too high to fathom. Her father didn’t make that in a year. Her mouth dropped open, and she turned to look at the stylist droid, but before she could say a word, the old lady chimed in.
“My treat dear, but you must let me have an image of us taken together.” She smiled, putting out the palm of her hand which was quickly, yet discreetly, scanned by the droid, who thanked them for their patronage, then moved off.
The old lady took Standish by the wrist and lead her towards the front of the salon. “That charming receptionist always takes an image of me after I visit. I insist on having one with you, my dear.”
Standish didn’t say a word as she was led towards the exit of the salon, and stood in silence as she and the lady had their pictures taken together, before heading out onto the upper level of the concourse.
“You never did tell you your name, dear.” The lady said, looking up at Standish.
“Um, Val Standish.”
The lady shook her head. “You need to work on that accent.” She said, then checked a small data-pad she had retrieved from her clutch bag. “Where are you heading?”
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