"He's right behind us," Alasdair balked. "In my personal car."
Mia shrugged. "Like I said. Unpleasant."
Alasdair frowned at the implication, then noticed out of the front window that the team was fast approaching the impound lot. "Alright, let's get into character. Quinn, you're taking point."
"I know, I know," Quinn droned. The car hovered to a halt just beyond the perimeter gate. A single uniformed guard exited from a nearby shack, clipboard in one hand and his holstered weapon covered by the other as he approached the lead car.
"State your business," he growled.
"Dexter Quinnland," Quinn said, offering one of the numerous aliases he'd created. "Intersector Bank of Athea. We're here to—"
"Papers," the guard barked and held out his hand.
"Certainly," Quinn replied after being interrupted, then provided the requested card. The guard quickly slipped it into his tablet computer.
In the back seat, Alasdair reached for and grasped Kristin's hand. In her nervous state, she didn't immediately realize what he'd done. Hesitating a moment longer, she quickly pulled away from him.
Quinn watched the expressionless guard as he silently read the information on the display. "We have an appointment," he offered politely. The guard's response was a grunt. Evidently, he was the type that would not be satisfied until the paperwork was thoroughly vetted.
Ripping the card out of the computer, he tossed it back at Quinn. He reached to his hip and once again placed his hands on the sidearm. "Entrance approved for two vehicles," he slowly turned to look at Alasdair's trailing vehicle. "Though I wouldn't classify that as anything but junk."
In the back, Kristin patted Alasdair's hand in comfort. He smacked it away with enough force to momentarily get the guards attention before the officer turned back to Quinn. "Make sure that heap back there doesn't shed any parts."
"Will do, officer."
"Your property is on landing pad sixteen. Down this road, turn left at the Hyperviarion transport, straight on past the small-craft hanger. It'll be third on the left. Impound Superintendent Darros will be there to meet you. Do not stray from the directions I've given you, or there will be consequences."
Quinn briefly entertained the idea of asking what those would be. "Understood. Thank you."
The guard offered a toothy, menacing grin. "Have a nice day."
"And you as well," Quinn offered back before closing the window.
In the back seat, Kristin and Alasdair let out a collective breath. "That was close," she offered while rubbing her hands together.
"My credentials are flawless," Quinn replied confidently before turning to her. "Now comes your part. You ready?"
She nodded, hoping the gesture was more convincing than how she felt on the inside. "Ready."
Quinn followed the guard's directions precisely, finding the Minerva just where it was supposed to be. When everyone exited their vehicles, Kristin looked three landing pads down on the right. There was the Cobalt Rose, looking ready to lift off at any moment. But for now, it was time to focus on the Minerva. As she walked confidently toward the ship, an unusually tall woman in a drab-gray suit and fire-red hair stormed down the extended gangplank and briskly intercepted Kristin.
"Impound Superintendent Darros," the woman said, her head snapping into a nod without a single hair moving out of place.
"Kristin Morrow, Intersector Bank of Athea," Kristin replied, holding out her hand. When the woman didn't accept it, she instead tried to return the nod she'd been given. The motion caused her hair to fall over her face, which she quickly adjusted in embarrassment.
"You're ready to inspect the property now, I presume?" the Superintendent asked. "I have a great deal of work to do, and little time for things of this nature. I hope you will be both comprehensive and swift."
"I have no intention of keeping you any longer than is necessary, Superintendent."
"Excellent. To ensure the expediency of this, I have several guides who will walk you through the ship for your inspection." At this, four imposingly large men ambled down the gangplank, each armed with both pistols and stun batons. "I trust they will not interfere with your tasks."
The last time she’d trusted men with guns, she’d lost her merchants license and nearly gotten killed in the process. "Is there a reason for the weapons?" Kristin asked, trying to remain calm.
The Superintendent easily towered over Kristin by a quarter-meter or more. She looked down as a monarch might when regarding an unworthy peasant. "Do you find them intimidating?"
Kristin hadn't prepared for this, so honesty was the first thing that came out of her mouth. "I'm not afraid of weapons. What makes them good or bad is the people behind them."
The Queen of the Confiscated smirked. "I suggest those are good motivating factors for keeping your tasks in mind and your time spent here brief."
"We'll be out of your hair within the hour." Not that anything could stick to that sculpted cast on your head.
"Very good. Your technicians may start in the engine room and the landing gear bays. I assume you will want to inspect the identification, communications, and navigation systems yourself?"
"You assume correctly," she said up to the woman.
"Very well. I will accompany you personally." Superintendent Darros, Empress of the Expropriated, outstretched a long arm with almost equally long fingers toward the Minerva's gangplank. "After you, Ms. Morrow."
Chapter 7
Damn. It was forty minutes into the inspection, and Kristin felt a bead of sweat trickle down her brow. She knew she was nearing the end of the checklist Alasdair had briefed her on, but still hadn't heard from anyone else on the team since they'd boarded the Minerva. They must be alright, since Superintendent Darros remained hovering nearby, visually inspecting every move Kristin made with the stark disapproval of an ill-tempered headmaster. Still, there was nothing in the yard supervisor’s movements or words that signaled there was anything wrong in the other parts of the ship.
"Is there a problem?"
Kristin blinked, inwardly cursed herself for her lack of concentration, then wiped the perspiration from her face. "No. It's just a little hot in here."
"Initiating the air conditioning system is not a part of the standard safety inspection."
It should be, devil woman, but you'd hate it. From the pilot's chair, Kristin looked up at Darros, the tall woman looking no worse for wear in the oppressive mugginess of the cockpit. Not even a single hair was out of place. "I'll be fine. We're almost finished here, right, Mr. Quinnland?"
Quinn was trying to look hard at work running diagnostic routines on the navigational computer while simultaneously trying to insert a rogue snippet of code into it. His concentration on his task had been intense until Kristin's voice broke him from it. "Y-yes," he stammered. "Very nearly done." His comment induced a scowl in Darros, so he attempted to diffuse it with a smiled and patting the side of the memory bank lovingly. "An excellent, capable computer this is."
"And just what are you doing?" Darros asked, stepping closer and leaning toward the console.
Quinn took the fraction of a second he'd been afforded, looking to Kristin and giving her a nod to proceed with her part of the plan. "Checking the jump computer… running it through a few simulations."
"I didn't know anyone could do that so quickly."
"Sure. It's actually quite straightforward. Let me show you."
Kristin, thankful for Quinn's intervention, now had a few minutes to get the micro-transmitter in place. But she would have to be quick about it. The junction box for the primary flight controls was set back under the instrument panel by more than half a meter.
Withdrawing the small device from her pocket, she quietly scurried out of her chair and went down to her knees and then onto her back, sliding under the controls with ease. It took her nearly a full minute to find the panel in question, and half as long to pull open the access door. When she did, she almost bumped her head in surprise a
s a bundle of cables spilled out over her face. As quietly as possible, she attached the transmitter with a snap to the length of optic cable Quinn had specified. I hope this is the right one.
Pushing the fallen cables back into place, she closed the panel and slid from her nook, but not before snagging her shoe on the corner of the auxiliary gravitational control console. With a pop, the heel came off and scattered across the deck, bouncing of Darros's leg before coming to a rest.
Darros regarded the impact with perturbation, then retrieved the object before looking to Kristin.
Now sitting on the edge of the pilot's seat, Kristin tried to act calmly without breathing as heavily as her body demanded. "I'm terribly sorry about that," she offered apologetically while adjusting her hair. "I must have snagged it."
"Indeed."
When she handed it back, Kristin reached to another panel to the left of the pilot's seat and withdrew a small laser bonder. With a quick touch of the device, she chemically bonded the heel back onto the soul of her shoe. "There. Good as new."
"How did you know that was there?" Darros asked.
"Know what was where?"
"That bonder. How did you know it was in that panel? I've been with you since you came in here, and you've not opened that panel once."
She had to think fast. She'd retrieved the bonder more out of habit than thought. All pilots kept small emergency tools like this in roughly the same location on all ships. Any trader would know that. But was Kristin supposed to recognize it as a representative of a bank?
"Oh, this? Superintendent, I've done hundreds of these inspections. Pilots tend to keep these kinds of things around for small emergency repairs."
"You're quite adept at using it."
"Well, as a lady, I'm sure you've broken your share of heels in the past. And doesn't that qualify as an emergency?"
Darros's eyes narrowed as she folded her long arms across her chest. "I'm sure I can't answer that. Now, are you all quite satisfied with your inspection? I really must tend to other duties."
"Yes." Kristin looked at Quinn and, getting a nod, stood from the pilot's seat. "Everything is in order." She patted the folder containing the forged financial documents. "I'll sign the paperwork and have this back to you in a day or so. Oh, and one more thing," she added as an afterthought. "We've heard that the previous shipowner is looking for a way to get back his property. We'd appreciate any additional security measures you can make to prevent this."
"We take our job most seriously, no matter whose property we are guarding."
Kristin smiled affectionally. "I'm sure the last thing you need is to be embarrassed. That being said, I'm authorized to offer a bonus for anything additional you could provide in this particular instance. I'm sure you understand."
Darros contemplated her words stoically. "I believe I do."
Kristin tapped her foot to test the strength of the repaired shoe. Satisfied, she held her hand toward the exit. "Would you prefer to lead the way, Superintendent?" Darros didn't respond verbally and instead turned abruptly before taking long, ardent steps from the cockpit.
* * *
Once they'd left the impound lot, the team had separated to collect anything they would need for the next day. Now, several hours later, they'd regrouped at Alasdair's apartment to go over their collective notes. Kristin looked at Mia, seated across the table and fidgeting with the device on her wrist.
"What are you doing?"
Mia's attention to her device was unwavering. "Calculating our odds of success."
"And they are?"
The thief pursed her lips. "Not good."
Thad grumbled as he searched the contents of the refrigerator. "I could have told you that."
But Kristin was still focused on Mia. "Can you… tell me more about that bracelet? It's very interesting."
"I could, but I won't."
Alasdair chucked. "It'd be easier to separate hot water from cold after they've been mixed than to get a thief to reveal her secrets, my dear."
This induced a scowl from Mia, who went back to fiddling with the device before covering it with her sleeve. "Shows how much you know. And where's Stone?"
"Getting some things he said he'd need," Alasdair replied as he took a bite from an apple. "Should be here by now, though. Hope he didn't get pinched."
"Doubtful," Thad grumbled, evidently not finding anything to his satisfaction as he slammed the door shut. "His kind is like slime. Hard to hold and easy to slip into the sewer."
Kristin eyed the mercenary keenly. "You don't care much for his methods?"
Thad withdrew a long dagger, sat beside her, and began slowly sharpening it. "I prefer the direct approach. There's no honor in hiding in the shadows, nor attacking a foe from behind. Computer wizardry has no class."
"I'm just glad you were able to restrain yourself from killing anyone today." Alasdair's words, while not harsh in their tone, drew irk from Thad.
"There's was little need." He stopped for a moment to glare at Alasdair. "Though it had crossed my mind." He then turned his attention back to his blade. "Besides, despite what Pryce would tell you, I don't kill the innocent. Just the ones who oppress them."
Alasdair dismissed the apparent lure. "Besides, a frontal assault without preparation would only get us caught."
Thad drew the stone in one final, slow sweep across the glittering blade. "That has yet to be proven."
The sharpness of the blade could have easily cut the tension in the room. Thankfully it was a knock at the door that did it. Without further warning, the door slid open, and a cart full of electronic equipment was shuffled into the apartment.
Out poked Quinn's head from behind the mass once the door had closed. Moving beside it, he looked lovingly at the bounty of wires, monitors, and control boxes. "All set."
Kristin's curiosity was peaked. "And what is all that?"
"This? This is the SS Minerva. Or at least, our copy of it." He then turned his green eyes to Mia. "Assuming, of course, that everyone was able to do their jobs today."
"Yeah, yeah," she sighed lazily. "I put your chucherias in their spots."
“They’re not toys, they’re finely tuned electronic devices,” Quinn corrected, then looked around the table. "Alasdair? Kristin? Juggernaut?" He received two individual nods, followed by a grunt from an irritated Thad. He slapped his hands together and grinned. "Perfect. It'll take me a few hours to set everything up, and then we'll be ready."
Alasdair moved to inspect the bundle of technology. "First thing tomorrow?"
Quinn gripped the lapels of his jacket firmly. "Before the first sun cracks the horizon."
Chapter 8
Kristin awoke to the sound of a metal pot slamming against the unforgiving floor of Alasdair’s kitchen. Peeking her head out of the bedroom door, she saw Thad clutching his hand, with Quinn fast approaching and asking to look at it. Her curiosity at Quinn’s concern was piqued, but in her current attire, Kristin was ill-dressed to see what the cause for concern was. As soon as Thad pulled his hand away in frustration, she closed the door and started getting dressed.
Stepping out of the room again in a modified version of the business suit she wore the day before, she saw Thad with a bandage wrapped tightly around his hand, with Quinn now staring intently at a bevy of monitors set up on Alasdair’s table. “Did I miss anything?”
Thad was stirring a small bowl of eggs. “I was trying to make breakfast. Alasdair didn’t warn me that his stove was a deathtrap.” Frustrated, he set the bowl aside and grabbed a nearby roll, engulfing half of the baked good in a single bite.
Alasdair, after a graceful, cat-like stretch, stood from the overstuffed couch. “Sorry about that. Few things in here are as grand as they once were. Still, I appreciate the gesture.”
“I was only making something for myself,” Thad burbled through a half-full mouth. “I’m not your mother. Make your own.”
Someday they’re going to kill each other, probably over misplaced table
manners. Kristin leaned over Quinn’s shoulder and studied the displays. Everything was there they needed for their objective, though not always in the most convenient location. “You might want to move the attitude controller to the left. And the stabilizer servo modulators to the top-right.”
“I know what I’m doing,” Quinn replied defensively. “I have done this before.”
“Really? When?”
Quinn looked like he was trying hard to remember. “Before, okay? I’ve done this before, and these controls are right where I need them to be.”
Kristin raised her hands in surrender. “Okay. Fine. Just trying to help. Shipbuilders have centuries of training behind them, which is why there is a standard way of doing things. I’m just trying to make life easier for you. But, you know what you’re doing, so carry on.” She stepped back and toward Alasdair.
“Make life easier for me,” Quinn muttered. Looking at his layout a second and third time, he hoped Kristin hadn’t noticed he decided to follow her suggestions. “I would have made that change anyway. More efficient.”
“Sleep well?” Kristin asked as she neared Alasdair.
He picked up a cup of coffee that was near the couch. “As well as can be expected, considering my bed has been officially appropriated.”
She took the cup from his hand before he could drink. “Well, I am the captain,” she said before enjoying the warm liquid.
He snatched the cup back from her. “Not until we get on the ship, my dear. Until then you’re just along for the ride.”
“That’s weird,” Mia mocked from the kitchen. “You two... sharing a cup of coffee. There should be rules against that.”
But Alasdair wasn’t backing down. “We’re not sharing. She stole it from me.”
“Maybe I’m just picking up habits from the company I keep,” Kristin replied, who had the cup once more and raised toward Mia, who smirked in response.
“How did you—” Alasdair began, but Kristin moved back to Quinn.
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