Snake

Book 1 of the Chronicles of Britannia

By

Fred Hughes & Alex Rath

PUBLISHED BY: Theogony Books

Copyright © 2025 Author

All Rights Reserved

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License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only and may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

This book is a work of fiction, and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events, or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the author’s imagination and used fictitiously.

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Cover Design by J Caleb Design.

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Foreword

When the Covid pandemic broke out in full force in March 2020, it forced me to evaluate who and what I was. Then, my wife Dundi delivered an ultimatum. I would not retire and simply sit on my deck smoking cigars and listening to audio books. I had to move on and do something else. Something new. She suggested I write the book I’d been kicking around in my head for over ten years.

That led me to create Hazard King, and the universe he’d be in, the Empire of Britannia. Then I began writing my first book, The Prince Awakens. I had no expectation of success. In fact, I had no expectations at all. This exercise was only to keep my wife off my back. I never imagined myself as an artistic person. I considered myself an engineer by trade and a historian by passion.

One thing led to another, though. Since I’d written the book, why not publish it? After all, then Fred Hughes could claim to be a published author in his obituary. So I self-published and went back to listening to books. Then you fans became involved. You wanted more. Finally, you convinced me to write a second book, then a third. During the first week of April 2025, Chris Kennedy Publishing will release the twelfth book in the universe. And yes, I’m writing the next book, and there will be more after that in the main storyline.

So, where does this book fit into all of that? The Britannia Series has become not only successful, but wildly popular. So popular that I can’t keep up. Fans of the series want to know more about unique characters. Some want prequels. Since starting, I’ve been writing four books a year, on average. Unfortunately, that isn’t enough to keep the main storyline moving forward and tell the other stories. Enter Alex Rath.

Alex was another Chris Kennedy author whom I first met in online conferences. Then we connected at the 2023 Super Stars Writing Seminar. That first meeting was the start of a friendship that has only evolved over time. Alex had already written several well-received books in the Four Horsemen Universe when we first met. At the February 2024 Super Stars event, Alex was in between projects, and I asked if he’d be interested in writing a Britannia Universe book.

There was a lot of discussion surrounding that ask. We talked about hows and whys. In the end, no decision was reached. Then, out of the blue, he messaged me that he wanted to write a book about Darrel ‘Snake’ Atwater. I told him to go for it, and off he went. This book is the result of that collaboration.

Make no mistake, even though both our names are on the cover and title page, this is Alex’s book. Now, unlike other writers who ‘lend’ their names to books to help with sales (you know who you are) I did have something to do with writing it. I wove background into Alex’s main story. Since space battles are my thing, that was me, as well.

So sit back and enjoy as Alex and I tell a tale about one of my favorite characters from the main series. And yes, we will tell you how Darrell Atwater picked up the nickname Snake.

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Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six

Epilogue

About the Authors

Excerpt from Book One of Symbiote Wars:

Excerpt from Book One of Blood and Armor:

Excerpt from Book One of The Last Marines:

Excerpt from Book One of The Prince of Britannia Saga:

* * * * *

Chapter One

The view out the window of the small room was uninspiring. Nothing like the capital planet of the Empire, Britannia, but that was the job. He’d been in much worse places for the Empire. On the street below him, the sidewalks were full, and the road contained mostly bicycles. Very few vehicles came this far into the depths of the city, which worked for him. He’d lost count of the number of solo missions he’d undertaken, but working in an environment like this with no backup always kept him on edge.

The small pad in his pocket beeped once, and he walked over to check himself in the mirror. For this cover, he posed as a loader from off planet, waiting for his transport to finish maintenance. Which was true, because the closer a lie could be to the truth, the easier it was to tell. But of course, he wasn’t a loader, and he wasn’t the person on his identity chip.

Agent Darrel Atwater, Imperial Security for the Empire of Britannia, looked in the mirror to make sure his disguise had no obvious flaws. They’d lost one agent on Aswan to unknown causes, so they’d sent in Darrel, a more seasoned agent, to take over the mission.

The initial meeting with an unknown source was always the most dangerous. He slouched a bit and trod out of the building and onto the street. He paused, looked left and right, then merged into the flow of heavy foot traffic walking down the sidewalk.

The Egyptian roots of the culture were evident as he walked down the street. Some of the buildings had decorative columns sporting hieroglyphs, and a part of his mind wondered what they meant, even as he paid close attention to the rest of his surroundings. It was actually a planet he wouldn’t mind spending some downtime on.

Darrel chuckled inwardly. As if I ever took any real time off.

Only a few blocks’ walk away from his room, he entered Urbi’s, the breakfast spot he had chosen for the meet. The windows all opened to the street, and since it was a corner location, there were multiple exits. He spotted his contact, Hassan Khouri, sitting at a corner table, as Darrel had instructed, and walked over to join him. Hassan rose from his seat, and they clasped hands like old friends before they sat.

“I have already ordered. You simply must try the fatteh. It is the best in the city,” Hassan said.

“I’ve never had it before, but I’ll take your word for it. How much is it?” Darrel said, following the script established to verify each other’s identity.

“It is my treat, my friend,” Hassan answered, completing the ritual.

Darrel bowed his head slightly in thanks. “How have things been treating you?”

“Ah, you know, another day, another credit. Oh, but you must see the pictures we took on our hike the other day.”

Darrel took the offered pad and scrolled through pictures, though the pictures of interest were of anything but a hike. Hassan Khouri was Captain Hassan Khouri of the Aswan Palace Guard. Darrel knew he had indeed gone on a hike recently with his wife and two children, and he saw pictures from the hike interspersed with other, more interesting ones. Darrel paused on a family photo when a server arrived with fatteh and tea for both of them.

“Thank you,” he said with a smile up at the young server.

She curtsied and then hurried off.

A quick scan of the room, and Darrel turned his attention back to the pad. The pictures were from inside the palace grounds and buildings, and they showed every secure door and security camera in the particular order Hassan took on his rounds of the building.

“These are amazing, my friend. Do you mind if I make a copy to show my friends back home? I think I even know some media friends who might pay you for them.”

“Oh, please do. It would be a crime to hide the beauty of Aswan from any who would appreciate it.”

Darrel pulled out his own pad, synched the two, and set them face down on the table while he bit into his fatteh, and moaned as the flavors filled his mouth, putting on a bit of a show. “Positively wonderful.”

He followed it up with a sip of his tea and nodded. “This will certainly carry me through the morning.”

“Yes, it is very filling,” Hassan said, and something about his tone made Darrel look at him critically. His expression had changed, and Darrel saw a bit of fear in his eyes.

“Don’t worry, Hassan. Everything will be fine,” Darrel whispered as he finished his breakfast. His words had no impact on Hassan, though, who glanced around the room.

Hassan swallowed hard. So hard Darrel saw his Adam’s apple move.

Darrel noted the sync had finished and slid his pad back into his pocket and stood. He had to put his hands on the table because his head swam as soon as he stood, and he realized what had happened. “You fool,” he said as he hit a button on his watch that triggered an injection of a cocktail of drugs made for Imperial Security that would counter any and every known chemical that might incapacitate an agent in the field.

Suddenly, the room erupted into chaos. Four tables around him emptied as people stood and shoved tables and chairs aside to draw weapons and aim them at him, in what they assumed would be a drugged state. He only needed to buy a few seconds.

“I’m sorry, Agent… whoever you are. You’re coming with us. There are some people who would very much like to talk to you,” a woman holding a stun pistol on him said. They meant to take him alive if they could, something he couldn’t allow to happen.

“As much as I’m sure I’d love to meet them, I’m afraid I have a previous obligation, so if you’ll excuse me?” Darrel scrambled to his left, toward the nearest open window. He dove through the window and reached into his pocket to grab a small flashbang, then threw it back through the shattered frame behind him. He stayed on the ground for a one count until the grenade exploded in a loud but non-lethal blast of blinding light and sound, then he stood, and ran.

They had expected an easy target, so the flashbang, and his rapid escape, would buy him at least a minute. In that minute, he needed to disappear and go to ground until he could get off the planet. He only had a day until the freighter he’d arrived on left. There was little doubt that planetary security would be watching the shuttle platforms. Good thing his backup plan was in place and ready.

Three blocks and two corners away, he slowed and walked into a clothing shop, where he selected a new shirt and trousers, paying in cash before he went into the changing room to don the new clothes. The route, and this shop, were not coincidences. Darrel always expected a double cross and was always ready. Imperial Security compensated this shop owner, an agency asset, well for the risks he took. The cash Darrel left behind was about twenty times more than the purchase cost of the clothing.

Once changed, he opened a small makeup kit and got to work. It took about ten minutes, but finally he looked in the mirror again and felt sure that even facial recognition systems would have a hard time recognizing him. Not as good as the professionals at ImpSec could have done, but it would do for now.

Satisfied, he flipped two concealed catches on the side of the mirror and stepped through the hidden door that opened into the back of the shop.

The owner’s wife was waiting for him with a trash bag in hand to take his old clothes.

Neither spoke, but Darrel conveyed his thanks with his expression. He knew she would put them directly into an incinerator if she followed protocol. He held up two fingers and stepped out of the back of the shop into an alley, then rejoined the flow of traffic toward the outskirts of the city. The two fingers told her that in two weeks, someone would come back for her and her family and take them off of Aswan. Darrel’s part in the operation was almost complete, and he took care of those who took care of him.

The people from the restaurant were combing the streets, roughly shoving people around as they looked for him. “Where is that snake?” one of them yelled.

This snake has already shed his skin, Darrel thought to himself and liked the sound of it.

One of the people who had aimed a gun at him in the restaurant shoved him against the wall, glanced at him, then moved on. Darrel appropriately looked down, putting on an expression of fear, and slunk away as soon as the security agent released him, like everyone else. He hid the grin that wanted to come to his face as he walked toward his secondary extraction point.

* * *

While much of Aswan resembled Egypt on Earth, or at least what the Empire’s histories showed Egypt had looked like a thousand years ago, there was an area near the capital that had been forested by artificial means, which was handy for Darrel. It took half an hour of walking to reach the outskirts of the city. The stratification of the city was obvious, as the buildings became more and more rundown as he reached the edge. He frowned slightly and sighed. It was obvious the planetary leadership was not taking care of its citizens. The Imperial government didn’t interfere with how system leaders ran their individual star systems. That was, they didn’t interfere till a system government failed to uphold the rights and guarantees the Imperial Charter granted to every citizen. It was obvious to Snake that the Aswan government was negligent in meeting those requirements.

And, Snake thought, they claim they don’t have the money to pay their Imperial taxes because they’re taking care of their people.

The Empire of Britannia had a unique governing system. It had started as a group of colonies in this part of the galaxy, settled by refugees who had fled Earth to avoid what they all thought was a war that would destroy the planet. The Exodus, as everyone now referred to the event, had been a well-planned and funded event. Those initial colonies formed the Kingdom of Britannia, which later evolved into the Empire of Britannia.

There were two levels of governance within the Empire. There was the imperial level, overseen by an emperor or empress, that ran the day-to-day operation of the Empire as a whole. Primarily, it defended the Empire, ensured everyone obeyed laws, and regulated trade and commerce between star systems. With few exceptions, though, the Imperial government’s authority stopped at the edge of a member star system.

Each star system governed itself and established its own form of government, planetary security, system commerce, and code of laws, with the only caveat being the government had to follow the guidelines of the Imperial Charter. The types of government in existence covered the gamut of human experience. The Empire contained at least one example of every type of government: monarchy, constitutional monarchy, republic, democracy, and several others.

Snake saw several women sitting on the sidewalk with dirty children around them, begging for a few credits for food. When he could, when he thought others wouldn’t see, he let a few pieces of paper currency fall from his pocket as he walked by. He couldn’t save them all, not today, but he could report his findings up the chain for the empress to see, and she would.

All it would do was confirm what ImpSec had sent Snake to verify, which was why his mission included a detailed examination of the capital city. There was a decent chance there would be a second phase of the operation, and his work here would lay the groundwork for it. He, or another agent, would have to return to continue the work if the empress decided to move forward.

He moved deeper into the forested area, sprinted for a minute, and ducked behind a large bush he’d spotted on his previous scouting of the area. Then it was a matter of waiting to see what happened. If anyone was following him, they would think he’d spotted them and was running to evade them. He regulated his breathing, and sat still for a full five minutes, but there was no tail.

Darrel got up, dusted himself off, and walked another 45 minutes to his drop. He found the large tree, then used his watch to find magnetic north, and walked twenty paces, then ten paces left. He kneeled down and brushed a few leaves aside to reveal a small, smooth rock that had no reason at all to be on this planet. Setting the rock aside, he lifted a one-foot-square piece of thatch away and pulled out the security case another agent had buried there several weeks ago on a previous trip to the planet.

He opened the case, which included a more extensive disguise kit, and got to work changing his appearance one more time. By now, planetary security would have traced him back to the room he’d used, but they would find nothing. The room looked as if no one had ever walked into it. They might give up, or they might keep scouring the city, but if all went well, he would be off the planet before they figured anything out, if they ever did.

Snake changed clothes again, this time into something prepared for him, which included a pistol with two settings. One for sleepy darts and one lethal, though he hoped he wouldn’t have to use either. He loaded it with sleepy darts for now. He knew he’d have to change the magazine if he wanted to go lethal, but that would be a last resort. With the pistol concealed under the waistband of his cargo pants and covered by a loose-fitting white tunic in the local style, no one would spot it. The makeup kit let him coat any exposed skin to match his complexion to the locals’, and a mustache and wig finished the look.

Satisfied with his appearance, he flipped the latches that released the security mechanism from the case and tucked it into a shoulder bag along with his pad. He put the case, minus the ImpSec security lock, back into the hole, covered it, and with a significant effort, rolled a large stone over to cover it. A little maintenance to hide the evidence he’d ever been there, and he was walking again. This time, back toward the city.

* * *

Using his watch’s compass as a guide, he took a wandering path to buy more time and walked until the sun set. The lights from the edge of the city were visible, and he worked his way around to the shuttle pad, where the last shuttle to his freighter was being loaded. He hated this part, but it was part of the game.

He pulled a can of beer from the shoulder bag, got a mouthful, and gargled it while he poured the rest over his tunic front, then tossed it aside. After spitting out what he had in his mouth, he walked into the clearing, stumbling slightly. It took less than a minute for a spotlight to focus on him and shouted commands had him stop, hold out his arms, and walk toward the guards.

They told him to approach slowly, and he did, stumbling and falling to his knees once before he finally reached the gate to sell it.

“Deities, you reek,” one of the guards grumbled as he took the identity chip Darrel offered.

The other guard kept his rifle aimed at Darrel’s chest.

Darrel noticed the insignia of the Capital City Guard on a patch on the guards’ shoulders. It wasn’t the load or the shuttle they were here for; it was to keep people from leaving the planet. Unfortunately for them, Darwishi Asghar was a new hire by the company that owned the shuttle, so they’d have to let him pass, or so Darrel thought.

The guard who had his chip grunted and tossed the chip back to Darrel. He could easily have snatched it from the air, but he completely missed it with his outstretched hand, and then groaned as he bent over to pick it up.

“I doubt they’ll even want you in a state like this. Just go home.”

Darrel looked at the ground for a moment before he stood while he considered his next course of action.

“You there, what’s going on?” a Britannia-accented voice called out, and Darrel looked up enough to see a pair of work boots walking toward the group.

“A drunkard and a fool. Nothing to concern yourself with,” the guard replied.

“Well, it’s my concern if he’s supposed to be on that shuttle. We’re short one hand. Is that him?”

Darrel stood up, swaying slightly, met the eyes of the newly arrived loadmaster, and gave a nod.

“Are you sure you even want him? Doubtful he’d do much but throw up all over your ship.”

“I don’t make the decisions. I only follow orders, and I’ve got orders to have a full load, including a new crewman.” The loadmaster took the identity chip and slotted it, quickly returning it to Darrel’s hand. “Yep, that’s him. Come with me, Darwishi. We’ll get you settled. Doc will sober you up quick.”

“Good luck,” the guard said and chuckled as he returned to his post.

* * *

Once strapped into a jumpseat on the cargo shuttle, Darrel grinned at the loadmaster. “Thanks. Saved me a little effort there.”

Elliot Phillips, loadmaster for the freighter Lancaster, shook his head. “You’re lucky I owe you one.”

“Do you honestly believe I rely on luck, Elliot?” Darrel asked as he stripped off his beer-soaked shirt and put on the fresh shirt Elliot handed him.

“I think you’re a snake with as many lives as a cat. You always seem to land on your feet, but you’ve got a nasty bite when you want to.”

“You know, I keep hearing that,” Darrel mused.

“Just stay out of the way so I can keep this load on schedule,” Elliot grumbled and walked off to check the straps on the last cargo crates that were being loaded.

Darrel leaned back and took a deep breath. He wouldn’t relax until they were out of the system and in hyper, but he was on his way. Elliot didn’t know the true depths of what Darrel was or who he worked for, but he knew helping Darrel was a good way to keep his own misdeeds quiet so he could keep his job. Darrel had stumbled on to the fact that Elliot had a side job smuggling weapons, but it just so happened that ImpSec approved of where those weapons were going, so Elliot was allowed to continue. It also bought Darrel some favors when he needed a freighter as a cover, like now, and Elliot was smart enough not to ask why Darrel had a different name every time he saw him, and often looked completely different. Chances were Elliot was smart enough to realize Darrel was ImpSec, but he was also smart enough not to say that he’d figured it out.

Once back on the freighter, he made his way to his quarters, secured the room, activated a privacy screen, and started his review of all the material he’d copied from Hassan’s pad, which was not only the images. The program he’d used had completely cloned and isolated it.

* * * * *

Chapter Two

The next stop for the freighter was also Darrel’s stop. He packed his bag and slipped out in the bustle of the initial unload. Another ImpSec agent, dressed as a station attendant, made sure he moved unmolested. Eventually, they reached a secure section of the orbital base, and Darrel was finally able to relax.

“How’d it go?” Michelle Montane asked.

“Oh, you know, the usual. Meeting the contact, getting ambushed, slipping through their fingers.”

“You’ve made a habit of doing that. Got data for me?”

Darrel handed over his pad. “There you go, M&M,” he said, using her nickname. “I looked through it, but I’m not much of an analyst.”

“Good thing. I wouldn’t want to get bored,” she said as she sat down and plugged the pad into her terminal. “Let’s see what we’ve got.”

Darrel sat at another terminal in the room and leaned back to wait. He’d worked with Michelle many times over the years, and she was one of the better analysts in ImpSec. Maybe the best. He was glad she was the one looking over the data.

“You did a full clone of his pad?” she asked without looking up about five minutes later.

“Of course. Why? Got something already?”

“Take a look at this.”

Darrel watched the screen, and the series of images he’d looked through before slid across the screen and then repeated. “Okay…”

“He gave us a match point for each image. Here. Let me make it more clear for you.”

This time, when the images scrolled through more slowly, she highlighted that in every picture inside the palace, his finger was in one of the corners, which was admittedly odd, but that could happen to anyone.

She sighed. “You really are lucky to have me here.”

“And I’ll never say any different.”

Michelle pointed at the large screen at the end of the room, and then digitally stitched the images together. His finger was a center point for each image, and when she was done, they had a guided tour of the palace. This way, they could tell where, in relation to every door or turn, there were sensors, cameras, or guards.

“There’s more. The images of his family, while cute, are a layer on top of something better. Your man has some mad digital imaging skills. Perhaps we should recruit him.”

The pictures Darrel had dismissed as cover showed up on the screen, and she manipulated them before his eyes. The pictures were real, but in them were odd dark lines he hadn’t noticed before. When she scrubbed the vacation pics away, leaving only the lines, they had a blueprint of all three floors of the palace buildings.

“Clever boy, but I don’t think he’s that good. There’s a growing resistance. He must be more a part of it than I thought.”

“You’re going back, aren’t you?”

Darrel nodded. “Probably. Need to run this up the chain. It’s time for the empress to decide how far she wants to go with this. I can’t make the call in the field. We either go back in to support them, or we back out and let things happen.”

“What’s your advice going to be?”

He looked at her and raised an eyebrow.

“Don’t be coy with me. You know they’re going to ask, and they’ll do whatever you tell them.”

“I think we need to help them, and I’m going to ask for Xavier to come out to help.”

Michelle wrinkled her nose. “Isaacson? Why?”

“I know he rubs you the wrong way, but he’s an excellent field agent. Certainly not the most observant, but he knows how to do his job once he’s set to it.”

“Fine, as long as I don’t have to talk to him much. Ready to see what I dug up while you were playing spy on Aswan?”

“Let’s have it.”

“President Isa has been collecting ships. Mostly buying them or stealing them from pirates, but it’s becoming enough to worry about. I’d say he’s got three or four destroyers and at least one cruiser. He keeps them out on the fringes of the system. They can hyper out anytime and show up wherever. Or they can burn in system to support whatever he’s doing. He’s also paid off enough independent freighter captains that they’re probably bringing in things we don’t want him to have. I haven’t been able to find out what.”

“What’s your take?”

“The warships are there to suppress what’s coming. He’ll use them on the planet if he has to. He’ll also use them to stop any ships he doesn’t want approaching the planet. They hide behind a small planetoid in a slow orbit at low power anytime ships are coming or going so the passers-by can’t spot them.”

“And the freighters?”

“More weapons. Mini nukes. Who knows? The black market is alive and well out here on the fringe.”

He glanced at his watch. It was 1400 hours, but he was exhausted. “Okay, put a data package together, and I’ll add my notes and send it off. Have it ready by 1700.”

“Can do.”

* * *

Darrel went to a room set aside for agents passing through and lay down to take a quick nap while Michelle compiled the data and added her analysis. He wasn’t sure how long it had been when something woke him up. Without hesitation, he grabbed his gun from the small side table and aimed it at the door.

Michelle stood still. “It’s me. I knocked, but you didn’t answer.”

He nodded and put the gun down. “Guess my head’s still in field mode.”

“Well, better to scare the piss out of me than be dead, I suppose.”

Darrel grimaced and sat up. He hadn’t bothered getting undressed, and he’d been out as soon as his head had hit the pillow.

“When’s the last time you took some leave and relaxed?” she asked.

He chuckled. “I don’t remember.”

“Why am I not surprised? Well, the data packet’s ready and loaded up in the secure comm room. Ready for you to add your notes and send it off. I’ve got a fast courier on standby. It’ll take seven days to reach Britannia at best speed.”

Seven days there, a few days for them to mull it over and get it in front of the empress, then seven more days back. He couldn’t wait that long. Things could move fast in situations like this, but they’d been aware of Isa’s intentions to change the planet into more of a dictatorship for a while. He’d been moving pieces into place but hadn’t acted yet. Hopefully, they had enough time to decide what to do. Originally, his task had been to gather the intel, get out, and leave the rest to others. But now he feared things were moving more quickly than HQ had expected.

As a field agent for Imperial Security, he had broad authority to act when he saw a threat to the Empire, and it was time to exercise that authority.

“Okay, I’ll get my notes in and ready, then I’m heading back to the planet.”

“What?”

“This is moving too fast. That they were willing to try to ambush me in the open tells me they’re getting bolder. They aren’t hiding their intentions very well.”

“I don’t have another cover ready for you, but I can brew one up in a day or so.”

“No need. I always have a few in my pocket. I think I’ll do a little sightseeing.”

Michelle nodded. “Okay, then.”

“See when the next passenger ship headed that way is and get me a seat while I take care of this?”

“You got it.”

* * *

Darrel walked into the secure comms room and locked the door behind him. He sat down at the terminal and entered his code to pull up the data packet Michelle had put together. Opening a new file, he centered his image on the camera and made his own report.

“Things on Aswan are, I believe, moving more quickly than expected. As you’ll see from the attached packet, President Hanbal Isa is putting together a small destroyer group outside his normal system defense force. It could be for additional defense—maybe for piracy—or something else. The reason doesn’t really matter. I’ve checked, and he didn’t register the ships with the Empire, so Isa didn’t acquire them for legitimate reasons. We also know he’s bringing in weapons, though we don’t know exactly what, since even Michelle couldn’t dig out the manifests. They’re likely obscured, scrubbed, or never existed.”

He paused the recording and considered his next words carefully. He had a certain level of authority without direct Imperial orders, but they only extended so far. His loyalty was to the Empire and the crown, and he knew this was a threat to both, if even in a small way, so he had to act.

He resumed recording. “Upon transmission of this report, I’ll be heading back to the planet to support the resistance under my own authority. I believe it is critical that we execute immediately to prevent Isa from carrying out whatever he has planned. Once I’m in position, I’ll decide how to proceed, but I won’t take any significant actions until I receive further instructions. Michelle will be my point of contact and will be able to reach me.”

He ended the recording and entered his encryption key. The ImpSec computer system on Britannia had the corresponding decryption key, so the message would be unreadable to anyone outside ImpSec HQ. Darrel considered for a moment, then flagged the message as Code Indigo. The code would transfer to the courier ship carrying the message. If anyone were to try to deter the courier from its course—another Imperial ship, for example—the courier ship’s captain would execute the code. Even an Imperial warship’s captain would hesitate to interrupt a ship carrying Imperial Security message traffic. The data and message weren’t high enough priority to use a message drone, but he didn’t want it slowed down, either.

With the message sent, Darrel went back to his room and picked up his long-term suitcase. Any time he was on an assignment like this, he brought several options. Some for dark infiltration, and some for the other end of the spectrum, like the suitcase he pulled behind him now, packed with everything he would need for a week of “vacation” on the planet. Security had increased for incoming passenger traffic, so he would have to rely on caches that were already in place on the planet for any toys he might need to execute the mission.

Any planet where ImpSec thought it might have to operate, especially out on the fringes, had caches secreted in strategic places around the planet. Some with tools for infiltration and other covert operations, and others with weapons of war, if it came to that. Darrel could handle any situation that came up and was glad to have equipment ready to go if needed.

* * *

Hours later, Darrel sat in a small passenger cabin on a transport and felt the slight discomfort in his stomach as the ship came out of hyper into the Aswan system. He was always grateful it didn’t hit him like it did others. He’d been on a mission once with an agent who blacked out on every transit. It had been the agent’s training mission, and Darrel had finished it with him but then sent him back to headquarters on Central Station. It wouldn’t do for an agent to be unconscious at any point during a mission. Headquarters could use him on the station or on some planet, but they’d never use him for field ops.

Darrel removed the straps he’d put on for the transition and opened his tablet computer to review his plan. For this trip, he would be Darren Atkinson and had the identity chip to prove it. He had a room booked near the park Hassan had shown him pictures of. Michelle had suggested it, thinking those pictures were of that location for a reason. Darrel also knew there was a location near the park that contained one of ImpSec’s more robust caches, so it worked out. It was also within a day’s travel by aircar to the nearest suspected resistance location.

There was a heavy knock on the door, and Darrel quickly locked and put away the tablet before he hit the admittance stud on the desk. As the door slid open, two men in Planetary Security uniforms stepped into the room.

Darrel stood and took a step away from the desk to give himself room to maneuver. “What’s this about?”

“Routine sweep, sir. We’ve had trouble with people bringing contraband onto the planet, so we’re doing inspections before we reach orbit.”

Darrel shrugged and handed over his ident chip. “Sure, go for it. My luggage is in storage with the rest. I have my travel bag there.” He pointed to the courier bag hanging from a wall hook.

“Would you mind letting us take a look inside?”

“No problem.”

One of the security men retrieved the bag, opened it, and rummaged through it for a moment. “Nothing.”

The other guard walked through the small cabin, looked under the bed, and in the small recess that served as a closet before moving back toward the door.

“Thanks for your cooperation, Mr. Atkinson. Enjoy your stay on Aswan.”

“Um. Is there something I need to be worried about?” Darrel asked. It would look odd if he didn’t appear to be at least somewhat concerned about the situation. “I came here for vacation because I’ve heard so much about the area and wanted to do some exploring.”

“I was there two months ago. You’ll enjoy it. You should be fine. We’ve tightened up security around the primary tourist locations, and I wouldn’t wander too far away, if you get my meaning.”

Darrel winked and grinned, as if he’d received some secret information. “Understood. Thanks for the heads up.”

The man nodded, and they left, closing the door behind them.

Darrel sat back down and leaned back in his chair. He really was thankful, because the Planetary Security officer had told him more than he thought he had. It was amazing how much intelligence you could get from a simple question, and officers like that one spent most of their time in orbit, bored out of their minds. The little tidbit of information about tightened security made the officer feel important for having known it, but it told Darrel that things were definitely proceeding. The “tightened security” wasn’t really to protect tourists; it was to watch them and keep an eye out for unusual behavior. It wasn’t unheard of for resistance fighters to use tourist spots as targets of opportunity, soft targets, for action to make the government look bad. It also wasn’t unusual for a planetary government to take hostages to get what they wanted from the empress. This information would change his plans slightly.

* * * * *

Chapter Three

President Hanbal Isa of Aswan reclined in his plush office chair with his feet propped up on his massive, imported mahogany desk. He listened as his secretary, Miria Assar, read him an unending stream of reports. Isa could have read them for himself, but he enjoyed having them read to him for first exposure. He processed them better that way, and Hanbal could make notes on things to follow up on later if necessary. Then something new she said caused him to sit up straight.

“What was that last thing again?”

“A minor scuffle in the city. Security detained one of the guards for recording information about the palace and potentially handing it off to an offworlder. Everything is under control, sir,” Miria answered.

“When did this happen?”

She consulted her pad before she answered. “Three days ago.”

“And I’m hearing of this now and not three days ago?”

“It’s likely nothing, Mr. President.”

Hanbal grunted. “Likely nothing” often turned into substantial somethings, and now wasn’t the time for somethings to happen. Although Miria knew about many of his plans, the president had ensured her ignorance of this one. He didn’t doubt her loyalty to him, but how much of it was to him, and how much to the office in which he sat? There would be a time of reckoning when she would have to decide, but not today.

“Have Colonel Hakimi report to me at—” he looked at the clock on the wall “—three o’clock.” That would give the colonel two hours to prepare a more detailed report.

“Of course, Mr. President. Shall I go on?”

He leaned back again and waved a hand for her to continue. He heard her, but he wasn’t listening. She went on to import statistics for the last month. A statistic that was always too high. Too many imports, not enough exports. His people were getting soft, and they needed to toughen up again.

She finished and left his office while he was deep in thought.

Fifty years ago, Aswan had joined the Empire of Britannia, and already his people were losing their pride in being Aswani. Life on Aswan had never been easy. It was called a desert planet, but fertile areas existed. Just not enough to support the still-growing population of the planet. Some of those fertile grounds had become parks for tourism income, but not enough of that income flowed into the planet’s coffers. He was loath to rely on the Empire for financial support, though it had become necessary. Some of his people joined the Imperial Navy, a requirement of being a part of the Empire, and brought knowledge back with them. Far too often for his taste, though, and they also brought foreign blood into the families of Aswan. In his mind, it was an assault on his culture, and one he would not let stand for long.

His predecessor had been weak and capitulated to the Empire’s demands, mostly without negotiation. He feared his people would become dependent on the luxuries provided by the Britannic Empire and lose sight of their heritage. That of strong, independent Egyptians.

Those who joined the Navy and did not return with foreign spouses often didn’t return at all. The war against the Swarm claimed too many Aswani lives, and for what? Their loss of self. Aswan sent its sons and daughters into the meat grinder to get back a letter of consolation for the loss, and its people accepted it.

He stood and paced back and forth in his office, feeling his blood boil in his veins as frustration and anger overwhelmed him. Getting his predecessor out of the way had been simple, and now that he had established control, things were going to change.

* * *

Imperial Governor Gavin Cameron scrolled through the morning’s message traffic. It was another routine morning in the compound. The property—on record, the Imperial Embassy to Aswan—served as his home until the empress recalled him or he retired. He felt the latter would come first. Aswan, on the fringe of the Empire, drew little attention from the Home System. Because of that, there was little for him to do. Sometimes, he felt like he should send a note to Britannia to remind them he was out here.

The transition of leadership to Hanbal Isa had not been without issue, but it wasn’t anything that threatened the Empire, and Gavin had stayed out of it. He established a somewhat lukewarm relationship with the new president and did his best to advise him on how to improve the planet’s economy. Part of Gavin’s job was to help Aswan become a contributing member of the Empire, rather than the drain it currently was. Tourism was their largest income source. Though they had excellent coffee, they didn’t have it in quantities large enough to export because of the limited fertile area. Gavin hoped to help the Aswani president with plans to perform minor terraforming in some areas to allow for more agriculture. Unfortunately, the new president seldom met with Gavin and seemed disinterested in the Empire’s help.

There was an asteroid belt in the system with limited mining operations. There were also resources to mine on the planet, mostly gold. The planet was also rich in oil and gas, but those had limited use in the Empire. Being a student of history, Gavin knew there was a time when a planet rich with oil would have been a dream come true. Now, it was a minor industry, producing plastics and other related products, exported as blanks to other planets for manufacturing.

The government was bleeding money and already had a large amount of debt. President Isa had assured Gavin that plans were underway to improve the system, but Gavin hadn’t seen them. Hanbal seemed to be a bit of a fanatic about culture and social issues, without much experience or even concern with the economy.

Gavin picked up a complex and beautiful piece of blown glass, colored with every hue of the rainbow, and turned the delicate piece in his hand. He had purchased it from a street vendor in his first week on the planet, and it stayed on his desk to remind him of who was out there. Pieces like this would fetch a premium on Britannia. He had even gone back out and purchased a second piece to send back to a friend in the Home System who dealt in decorative pieces and curiosities. Perhaps that could be a new industry for the system, since glassmaking was something a planet covered in sand could expand upon.

Gavin knew Hanbal wasn’t happy about the requirement for the system to provide volunteers to the Imperial Navy. Other systems, like Honshu, had ship-building infrastructure and contributed ships in lieu of people, though some still elected to join the Navy. Aswan didn’t have that. They produced nothing the Empire needed in volume. In the case of Aswan, like many other systems, it was people, and for many Aswani, it was their first time off the planet. Gavin also knew the butcher’s bill against the Swarm hurt every system in the Empire. He wasn’t a military man, so he didn’t understand it all. He just knew that a Swarm appearance in any system doomed that system.

* * *

Hanbal tapped the Accept button when it chimed for his attention.

“Colonel Hakimi to see you, Mr. President,” Miria said over the speaker.

“Send him in,” Hanbal replied.

The door opened, and Colonel Shakir Hakimi walked into the room, stopped one meter in front of Hanbal’s desk, and saluted. “Reporting as ordered, Mr. President.”

“Have a seat, Colonel,” Hanbal said. He appreciated the formality most of the time, but sometimes Hanbal just wanted to get down to business.

Shakir was a capable military officer, which was why Hanbal had put him in charge of the palace guard, but he sometimes failed to understand the potential importance of an event. The minor scuffle was an example of that. Hanbal knew Shakir agreed with his view of Aswan. Shakir’s sister had joined the Imperial Navy as a part of Aswan’s obligation, and all he had gotten back was a small box with a data chip saying goodbye. Shakir wanted Aswan to secede from the Empire, but Hanbal knew that would be disastrous for the system. The challenge for Hanbal was to find something that sustained the system’s heritage and culture, while also benefiting from the Empire.

He brought up the report on the disturbance in the city and looked at Shakir. “I understand there was some trouble in the city three days ago?”

Shakir nodded. “Yes, sir. We discovered one of my guards, Private Hassan Khouri, was about to hand over intelligence on the palace interior to an offworlder.”

Hanbal waited and sighed when Shakir didn’t say more. “What kind of intelligence?” he prompted.

“Photos of the inside of the palace, including highly secure areas.”

I swear, getting information out of this man is like pulling teeth. It’s a good thing he understands security, because he doesn’t understand intelligence gathering, Hanbal thought.

“Based on the report, you did not catch the offworlder?”

“No, sir. He had excellent training in escape and evasion. Once the guards lost sight of him, they never found him again. Port security received surveillance photos from street views we captured. Hopefully, we’ll capture the man when he tries to leave the planet.”

Hanbal nodded. That, at least, was smart, though he had a feeling the offworlder was already long gone.

“Have you run the guard’s… what was his name?” Hanbal referred to the report. “Private Khouri’s tablet through Mukhabarat for analysis to determine if he passed anything else to this offworlder?”

“No, sir. I’ll have that done as soon as we’re through here.”

“And what have you gotten from the private?”

“He claims he was showing the offworlder pictures of a resort and park, and he doesn’t know how the other images got there. There are such images, but that is obviously a lie.”

“Hand him over to Mukhabarat. They will get results.”

Shakir nodded, his movement stiff and disapproving.

“I’m taking nothing away from you, Colonel. It was your people who discovered the plot, but Director Kassab’s people are better at interrogation.”

Ahmed Kassab, head of the General Intelligence Service, the Mukhabarat, was an expert, and he only recruited the best. They were experts in intelligence gathering, no matter the method. Already, his efforts had led to the destruction of three rebel camps, full of people who disagreed with Isa’s rise to power.

He paused for a moment then leaned forward in his chair, resting his elbows on his desk. “How did you determine there was something going on?”

“The surveillance team, watching the palace security cameras, noticed Private Khouri acting strangely and tagged a plain-clothes team to tail him. Turned out they were right.”

“That’s good. You may need to work more closely with Director Kassab as our plans move forward. I’m afraid the resistance will get bolder in their efforts.”

Hanbal could see there was something the colonel wanted to say, but held back. “Speak freely, Shakir. I rely on you to keep us safe here. If there’s something on your mind, I want to hear it,” he said, and relaxed back into his chair.

“What if it was a spy from the Empire?”

“That would be concerning, but not surprising. We will cross that bridge if it appears before us, but we must remain focused on the plan.” He said it to set the colonel’s mind at ease, but he was far more concerned. If the Empire was already aware of the changes being made in the system, it could cause problems before he had implemented the entirety of his plan.

Hanbal lost himself in thought as he considered how to respond to such a development. Moments later, he came out of his thoughts and realized Shakir was still sitting there, waiting.

“That will be all, Colonel,” he said and stood.

Shakir got to his feet and braced to attention before he turned to leave the office.

“Remember,” Hanbal said before Shakir left, “it is better to be touched by fire than by dishonor,” he added, quoting an old Egyptian proverb.

Shakir nodded and left the office, closing the door behind him.

Once Shakir left, Hanbal pulled up the available surveillance footage of the man who had eluded Colonel Hakimi’s plain-clothes force and the search afterward. The man was good, as if he knew where the cameras would be and kept his head turned away, but they had captured a few clear images of him. Shakir had distributed those images to the planet’s spaceports. Hanbal stared at the man, realizing he could be anyone. Just another white Imperial on Aswan.

He continued to watch the footage and switched to the street cameras. Like the analysts, he lost sight of the spy in the foot traffic of the inner city. A snake slithering in tall grass.

* * * * *

Chapter Four

Darrel Atwater checked into his room at the resort and pulled a small device out of his travel bag, along with his tablet. He tucked the device behind the tablet before he withdrew his hands from the bag, shielding it from any video surveillance in the room. He strolled around the room, touching and shifting things around while he scanned for surveillance devices as if he were examining the sparse amenities. The display on his tablet showed two pinhole cameras he could spot once he knew where to look. Now he knew he couldn’t conduct any business in the room he didn’t want President Isa to know about.

He left his room to explore the local area and walk around the park, and he learned that security around the resort was higher than would be normal on any other planet. None of the guards wore armor of any kind, but they all carried pulse rifles. He got a good look at one of the guards as he walked by and noticed they also carried slug throwers as sidearms. Old-fashioned, but effective against anyone who had any kind of shielding against energy weapons. Interesting choices and good information to have.

It didn’t take long to lose sight of the resort proper behind copses of trees, and it looked like he was out of range of the guards, as well, though he had an itchy feeling between his shoulders. He was still under observation. It would make sense for safety, but he felt sure the people watching the video were less interested in his safety than their own. That was fine. He had time, and he’d use it.

Over the next several days, Darrel explored every corner of the resort grounds and located the controlled perimeter. Well-placed signs on every path leading off the resort grounds warned visitors they were leaving the resort property and the resort would no longer be responsible for their safety. The signs would be enough to keep a casual visitor on the property, but Darrel decided it was time to go further afield. He sat on a bench and crafted a brief message, linking it to an orbiting stealth satellite. ImpSec had disguised the satellite as a normal communication satellite to avoid detection by scans and arranged for the Imperial Navy to deploy it several months ago. To his surprise, there was a message waiting for him when he linked with it using his identification code.

On trade station +2. -request, black. M.

The message was brief, but it was enough, and it was helpful.

Michelle had read the situation and reasoned that Darrel would need her closer than several systems away. She’d also brought two other agents, but Isaacson wouldn’t be joining them. Disappointing, but not unexpected. Xavier was in demand. The last word made him take a deep breath. This operation was going black, giving him leave to use the weapon caches he had access to, which didn’t exist in any records in any system of the Empire. This also meant someone had authorized their support for the rebel faction, but all other actions on the planet would be off the books.

It also meant Darrel wouldn’t be getting any more guidance on this operation. He’d have to meet the rebels and judge for himself whether what they wanted was what the empress would want.

No pressure, he thought to himself as he changed the message he had just written and sent it.

* * *

Darrel walked along an overgrown path several hours from the resort as the sun crested high in the sky. He had left before dawn and made his way around the roving guards at the resort. Of course, he also avoided the surveillance systems he had spotted. He leaned against a tree to take a drink of water from the canteen on his hip and check his pad. The coordinates he’d acquired indicated there should be a rebel camp somewhere in the area.

He slid the canteen back into its pouch when he heard soft footsteps around him, being careful not to make a sound. Someone was trying to be stealthy, and it would have worked against most people, but not Darrel Atwater. He was better than most. The decision before him was whether to reveal his perceptive abilities or let them think they had surprise on their side. If they were close enough for him to hear their approach, they could have already killed or incapacitated him if they’d wanted to—or tried, anyway. Given his location, it had to be the people he was looking for.

“Two behind me, one to my left. You can approach. I’m unarmed,” he said. It was true. He didn’t have a weapon on him, but there was no need for them to know he didn’t need one if he could get close enough.

A male voice with a thick Aswani accent said, “I think you are lost.” The man it belonged to came out of the foliage, keeping a pulse rifle aimed at Darrel. “This is not a place for tourists.”

Darrel glanced at the rifle and back up at the muscular man. This was a man used to physical labor, or he spent a lot of time in the gym. Darrel figured it was the former from the way he held himself.

“I’d appreciate it if you’d lower that rifle. We wouldn’t want it going off accidentally.”

The man seemed agitated that Darrel didn’t appear scared in the least with the muzzle of a rifle pointed at him. “Who are you?” he demanded.

“Hassan Khouri sent me.”

More footsteps, and a woman wearing old, worn body armor walked into the small clearing. “How do you know Hassan?”

Darrel tilted his head and examined her for a moment. “We had breakfast once. He told me this would be a nice place to visit. Unfortunately, something interrupted our conversation, and I had to leave. Literally, Darrel thought to himself.

The woman reached into a bag, pulled out a hood, and tossed it to Darrel. “Put that on.”

“Is this really necessary? It’s already blazing hot out here,” Darrel grumbled as he turned the thick hood in his hands.

The man took several steps forward and shoved the barrel of the rifle into Darrel’s chest. “Yes, it is,” he said, almost growling the words.

“That… was a mistake,” Darrel said as he flicked his wrists to toss the hood at the man’s face.

In the same motion, Darrel snatched the barrel of the rifle and shoved it up. The surprise of the mask flying toward the man’s face, combined with Darrel’s swift movements, caught him off guard. Darrel kept hold of the rifle as the man let go to defend his face against the mask, a natural instinct. The arc of the butt of the rifle coming up caused the strap around the man’s shoulder to fly up, and a second later, Darrel had the rifle’s cold barrel against the man’s forehead and flicked the safety off.

“Never point a gun at someone if you’re not ready to use it. You weren’t, but I promise you, I am.”

Two more men came out from behind trees, weapons aimed at him.

Damn, I missed one of them, Darrel thought.

“Stop!” the woman commanded.

Darrel smiled, an unusual expression under the circumstances. Hearing a woman in command assured him he was in the right place. On Aswan, women were second-class citizens, at least these days, which was one of the reasons the new president didn’t like the Empire. Having an empress in charge rubbed him the wrong way. It was time to put more cards on the table.

He spoke without moving the barrel of the rifle he still held on the man in front of him. “Maria Awad. One of the leaders of the Imperial Loyalist faction. Father executed by Hanbal Isa on trumped-up charges of theft. Mother imprisoned, likely still alive, and being held as a hostage. Did I miss anything?”

“You must be the snake,” she said.

“Well, I’ve been called many things. Recently, I’ve been called that a time or two.”

She motioned, and the other two men lowered their weapons. “I would appreciate it if you would lower your weapon. Mohammed meant no harm. He is very protective.”

Darrel winked at Mohammed before he flicked the safety back on the rifle and lowered it to point at the ground. “Lucky man. She saved your life. In general, I don’t let anyone get that close to me with a weapon and live to tell about it.”

“Enough. Come.” She motioned for him to follow and walked off.

“I’ll hang onto this for now,” Darrel said, and slung the rifle over his shoulder, moving to follow Maria and leaving the rest to look at each other as they tried to figure out what had happened.

* * *

Darrel walked beside Maria in silence for a while, then curiosity got the best of him. “How did you find me?”

“We have sensors around the perimeter. You tripped one of them. Do not feel bad, they are unavoidable.”

“Nothing is unavoidable.”

She shrugged and kept walking for another half hour until they reached a camp much larger than Darrel had expected.

He surveyed the area as they passed by two trucks with mounted railguns guarding the entrance. The walls of the compound were made of logs harvested from the area, stacked and tied. It was like something from a history video, but it worked. He counted at least 15 buildings, some small huts, others large enough to be office buildings. There was a thick canopy above, as well as camouflage netting covering the entire complex.

“Impressive,” Darrel observed.

“It protects us from satellite and overflight surveillance. The sensors protect us from any approach on the ground. It is as safe as we can make it.”

Darrel nodded, his head swiveling from side to side, taking in everything he could. He noticed several crates of weapons with familiar markings, a firing range for target practice, and even hand-to-hand combat training taking place.

“Come. I think we have much to discuss,” she said and led him into one of the more stable-looking buildings.

Although they’d cobbled it together with pieces and parts, it looked solid and well-constructed. Darrel followed her into an office, past two guards, who closed the door behind them.

“Please, sit,” she said and gestured to a chair across from her desk. She filled two glasses with ice water and handed him one before sitting down. “Tell me what you know already.”

Darrel held up a hand, pulled a box out of his pocket, and swept the office. Once he was satisfied there were no listening devices, he sat. He sipped the water and nodded in thanks. “President Isa is consolidating power around the planet. We’re not sure what his endgame is, though. If he wanted to withdraw from the Empire, he could file to do that, but it seems like he wants to have his cake and eat it, too. He knows the empress would not tolerate an autocratic ruler in the Empire, especially one with the brutal style of leadership he appears to have. Though he tries to conceal it, we hear things. What we don’t know is why.”

“You hear much. Hanbal’s family has always been anti-Imperial. They have always been somewhere in the lower levels of government. Much has changed on Aswan in the past decade, and he doesn’t like it. He sees the Empire as weak because it throws ships against an enemy it cannot defeat, and loses lives by the planet full. Many of them Aswani lives.”

There was a pause, but Darrel let her go on without interjecting. Darrel’s loyalty to the Empire was unequivocal. No one in the Empire liked what was happening against the Swarm, but that was the reality they faced. The Imperial Navy was doing what it could to save the lives of those in the systems the Swarm had targeted for destruction. Aswan wasn’t as well-represented in the Navy as many—well, most other planets—but there were some. It had only been in the past few years that some from Aswan had enlisted at the academy rather than simply joining the fleet and taking whatever role the fleet assigned them.

“I do not understand the Swarm or why we fight them, but the Empire is good for Aswan. Most of us believe that and will fight for it. We do not want to go back to the days of rationed food that existed before we joined the Empire, and we want to contribute more. Do something other than die on ships in the middle of some faraway system. As for Isa… you are right. He does not want to break away from the Empire, but he wants to stop some of its influence.”

Darrel raised an inquisitive eyebrow.

“Location and distance isolated Aswan for many, many years. I have not known a time without the Empire, but my great-grandmother remembered it. There were lines for food. We were surviving, but only just. Some resorted to piracy, which still happens according to my sources.”

Darrel nodded in agreement. Isa operated a small pirate fleet, but it was small enough and fast enough that the fleet hadn’t caught it. Yet.

“But Isa’s problem is cultural. He believes we are losing sight of who we are. Proud Egyptians who made our own way in a harsh galaxy and survived. Isa believes the Empire is making us soft, and there is something to that, I suppose. But there is also growth and progress,” she said, her voice heated with passion for her planet and her people.

“So, what is your plan?” Darrel asked.

Maria looked him in the eyes, then she shook her head and slumped back into her chair. “I don’t know. Right now, we are protecting ourselves from him and his death squads. He is eliminating anyone with any kind of power who is an Imperial loyalist, so we have gone into hiding and are preparing for the worst. We are average people. None of us aspires to rule. All we want is to go back to the way things were before Isa and his ilk took control.”

“We can help you with that. How many camps do you have?”

“I don’t know. Fifteen? Twenty? It is hard for us to coordinate. Already, Isa’s goons have raided four camps because planetary security tracked down their communications signals, so we’ve gone radio silent. We send runners between camps with information. Sometimes they make it, sometimes not.”

“I think we can help you with that,” Darrel said as he stood. “I’m going to hike back to the resort and see what I can arrange. Do you have room to accommodate a few of my agents if I bring them down?”

Maria stood and nodded. “Yes, I can do that.”

“Good. It’ll be a few days, but I’ll be back, probably with friends.” He turned to walk out, but she stopped him.

“Wait. You know who I am, but… what do I call you?”

Darrel considered for a moment, then turned his head to speak over his shoulder before he walked out the door. “Call me Snake.”

* * * * *

Chapter Five

Darrel stopped halfway back to the resort and sat on a fallen log, pulling out his tablet to send a new message up to Michelle now that he had made contact. He considered what to send for a while as he drew up plans in his head. One of the first things he needed to do was get some kind of communication network in place. There would be comm gear in the cache, but he wasn’t sure how much. He also needed to get in touch with the planetary governor, who was a representative of the Empire.

He glanced up at the sound of air-breathing jets flying over. Aswan military. Had to be. Probably searching for rebel camps or possibly training. He couldn’t see through the thick canopy, but he heard two distinct aircraft fly over, and they were going fast, so probably training. But for what?

“Don’t be stupid, Darrel, you know exactly what,” he said to himself.

Darrel turned his attention back to his tablet, typed out a brief message, and hit Send. It was only a few words, and anyone who intercepted the tight beam, which was nearly impossible, would not understand what it meant. With that accomplished, he finished walking back to the resort and arrived in time for a long shower and a change of clothes before dinner. No one even gave him a second glance as he came back in, as it would appear that he had returned from a hike, which he’d been doing routinely to set the scene for today.

He sat in the main dining room, enjoying a four-course meal at a corner table, with his back to the corner so he could see the entire room and all its entrances and exits. It was something drilled in during training for Imperial Security, and it was good advice. Having someone come up behind you was to be avoided at all costs in his business.

Darrel chewed the last bit of Revani cake a waiter had served him as dessert, when an attractive young woman walked directly up to his table and glanced down at the seat across from him with a raised eyebrow.

“Have we met?” Darrel asked.

“Not yet, but I was hoping we could,” she said with a small smile.

He knew the resort retained courtesans, and the barely visible tattoo on her right wrist indicated she was one of them. It wasn’t like on some planets, where brothels occupied the red-light district. On Aswan, it was a recognized profession—contrary to traditional Egypt back on Earth, where the trade was illegal. But Aswan had made some, well, some would call it progress, on that ground. In such a place, people would consider them among the most valued employees, recognizing and respecting them.

Darrel also knew they were women and men who often heard stories and tales from many places. Bartenders and consorts were excellent sources of information because they both saw people when they were vulnerable, and people tended to talk to them as if they almost didn’t exist. Of course, the intelligence community often used them as assets, so she might be seeking information from him instead. It wasn’t unheard of for ImpSec to have prostitutes on the payroll as informants when it would benefit them.

After a second of consideration, he gestured to the chair. “Please. Have a seat…”

“Rehema,” she said as she slid into the seat, answering his unasked question and extending a hand across the table.

He shook her hand softly, as tradition required for a man greeting a woman on Aswan.

“I’ve been watching you, Darren. You’re very active. Not taking advantage of your vacation to do much relaxing, are you?”

He wasn’t at all surprised that she knew his name. Well, the name of his cover identity. There would be facial recognition systems all over the resort, and they would track the activities of all the guests. It helped them craft and cater to experiences for their guests, and it had the added benefit of providing information to planetary intelligence, he was sure. In the case of Rehema, she would have reviewed his entire file since he landed on the planet before approaching him.

Darrel chuckled and shrugged as he relaxed back in his chair. “I find being out in nature relaxing. I spend much of my life around crowds of people, so being out in the wild, as wild as it actually is, is just what the doctor ordered.”

One of the tricks of an excellent spy was to keep your lies as close to the truth as possible. Go too far outside of what you knew, and you’d eventually slip up and say something you shouldn’t or forget which lie you told to whom. He didn’t truly enjoy being out in the wild. He was much more at home deep in a city, where he could blend in, but it was an easy lie to maintain, since that was what he’d spent most of his time here doing.

“Have you tried our local beer? Brewed right here on site. I actually do some work there myself.”

Darrel shook his head. “I’m more of a scotch man, myself.”

Rehema gestured to one of the servers, who nodded and walked away.

“Well, now you will try it for me, hm?” She flashed a winning smile that he was sure worked on anyone who wanted to see what was under the elegant dress she wore.

He played along, for now, and nodded. Thanks to Imperial science, there was no risk of him getting drunk. Field agents such as him received treatments that essentially made them immune to the effects of alcohol, for the most part. The trick was remembering to act like the alcohol affected you if you drank to excess, which he had no intention of doing.

“Why not?” he asked, as the server returned with a tray and set two glass mugs of beer with an inch-thick head on them.

Rehema nodded in approval. Apparently, that was the appropriate pour for this particular beer.

“What shall we drink to, Darren?” she asked, and picked up her mug.

“Well, to the empress’ health, of course,” he said.

It was risky, but his papers indicated he was from the Britannia System, so it wouldn’t be out of the ordinary. He raised his mug slightly, and she nodded and brought hers up as well, without hesitation. “To the empress’ health,”

He took a sip of the beer, and it was… okay. He was definitely a scotch man, but out of courtesy, he drank the beer with her. They sat in silence for a few moments, feeling nothing more than like they were measuring each other up.

“You’re an interesting man, Darren.”

It was an odd observation after such limited interaction, but he reminded himself that she’d seen what information they had on him at the resort. His cover identity was that of a businessman for a trading company, who often traveled for work, and always mixed business with pleasure. Darrel wasn’t an expert in the area, by any means, but he knew enough and would always default to not wanting to talk shop while on vacation if topics went into areas he wasn’t ready for that might blow his cover. “How’s that, Rehema?”

“You move around with more confidence than most. Never uncertain of your actions or direction. Many who come here have never even seen a desert planet, or an oasis such as this, and it shows. You’re the same, no matter what you’re doing.”

Darrel shrugged slightly. “It’s a resort, and there are a lot of guards. I’m used to being in unfamiliar places, so I learned to just relax and enjoy it when I can.”

She leaned forward, intentionally exposing more of her cleavage to his view. “I find it intriguing. Perhaps you’d like to continue this conversation somewhere more private? Your room, perhaps?”

“Why do I think you have something other than conversation in mind, Rehema?” Darrel asked as he set the empty mug down.

She looked into his eyes, and there was something else there. Not just her job, not just curiosity about a new guest at the resort. There was intent, and it had nothing to do with her job here at the resort. But she gave the expected response in such a situation. She smiled, and her eyes twinkled with excitement. “We can talk, too, if that’s what you want.”

* * *

Darrel opened the door to his room and held it for her to go in before him. There was only so much trust he would extend to someone he didn’t know.

She gave him a knowing smile and walked inside, stopping to wait for him to close and lock the door behind him. As soon as he did, she reached into the top of her dress and withdrew a thin card. She looked at the wall beside the door and slid it along an area until there was an audible double-beep.

“There. Now we really do have privacy.” She winked and backed away from him, standing with her arms by her side, waiting.

“Interesting.”

“Check to make sure, if you like. I’m sure you have the appropriate tools for that at hand, Darren. Or should I call you Snake?”

Two options went through his mind. Either someone had bugged Maria’s office, which he thought unlikely, since if the planetary government knew they were there, the camp would be gone. Or Rehema was a member of the loyalists. Either way, he was certainly going to check the veracity of her claim.

“Sit there,” he said, gesturing to the foot of the bed.

She moved, unconcerned, and sat on the edge of the bed, casually crossing her legs so the slit up the side of her dress fell aside, exposing her thighs. “Take your time. I enjoy watching a confident man work.”

He watched her with one eye while he pulled his detection device from his bag and swept the room. There were faint signals, likely from surveillance devices in surrounding rooms, but nothing that was strong enough to be pointed at his.

Once he completed his sweep and confirmed Rehema had deactivated the surveillance systems, he leaned back against the small desk and crossed his arms. “I think you have a bit of an explanation for me?”

“Well, I do work here, doing exactly what you think I do. And I enjoy it,” she said, sliding the straps of her dress over her shoulders and letting it fall to her waist. “But I also work with Maria. So… which first? Business, or pleasure?”

She stood and pushed her dress down to pool at her feet, leaving no doubt that she wasn’t carrying any weapons. At least, not conventional ones. Darrel was sure she had defeated more than one man in her own way. Her actions and the smile on her face left no doubt in Darrel’s mind, which she preferred, and… it would be a horrible thing to let such a beautiful woman down.

“Well, I find that business and pleasure often make very good… bedfellows.”

“Well, Snake, why don’t you show me how good?”

* * *

A while later, Darrel lay on his back with Rehema lying beside him, her head resting on his chest, and his arm around her. Ah, the things I do for my empire, he thought.

“I suppose now we should get on to the business,” she said, drawing circles on his chest with her finger.

“I suppose so. Tell me what you know.”

“The plans in motion have been coming for quite a while. Hanbal’s father and a group around him groomed him for this. This group has been against joining the Empire since the beginning, and the mindset has been passed down from generation to generation. Now, they understand the benefits of the Empire, but they don’t like the impact it is having on Aswan.”

Darrel nodded. “That much I’ve gathered, but what is he actually going to do? He has to know the empress will not stand for an autocratic dictatorship as a member of the Empire. My presence here is evidence enough of that.”

“You must be a powerful man, Snake, to be here against Hanbal by yourself.”

He glanced at her and tilted his head. That was a probing statement he would use to draw intelligence out of someone. “I’m good at what I do. What else can you tell me about the loyalists?”

“We’re scattered and unorganized. Maria is doing her best, but in our current situation, we would lose. Hanbal has a solid grip on the military, and his generals are loyal to him and share his views. He eliminated anyone who might question him, even a little.”

“And what about Maria? I’m worried about her motives,” he said. Darrel was concerned that Maria was more worried about getting to Isa for personal reasons than loosening his grip on the system.

Rehema sat up and looked down at him abruptly. “Maria is my cousin. We both want him dead for what he did to my uncle, but we care about Aswan and its people. Every day, people disappear from the streets if they’re suspected of being Imperial loyalists and are taken to what they call reeducation camps. Yes, we want revenge, but we want Aswan not to be ruled by a dictator even more. Hanbal wants to rule by fear and strength. That is not the Aswan we, or most of its people, want.”

The room, lit only by the moonlight coming in through the window, was dark, but it was light enough. Darrel looked into her eyes and nodded. “I believe you, and I’m here to help. I need to find a way to get in touch with Governor Cameron.”

Gavin Cameron was the Imperial governor assigned to Aswan. He had been in position for five years after the last governor retired and represented the empress’ interests in the system. It would be important to ensure that he and his staff were protected once things kicked off, so Darrel needed to coordinate with him and his security. He also needed to make sure Isa hadn’t compromised Governor Cameron. That was highly unlikely, but Darrel would leave nothing to chance.

She took a deep breath, then lay back down and resumed her position, tucked up against him with her head on his chest. “I can help you with that. It is not uncommon for me to act as a tour guide and take guests around the planet. I can arrange transport to the capital tomorrow… well, today, I suppose, now.”

“How is it you happened to be here, at this resort?”

Rehema shrugged slightly. “When Maria established her camp, I moved. I told them my old job had become boring, and I wanted a change of scenery. It is a normal thing, one of the perks of my profession. I choose where I work. And before you ask, yes, I enjoy my work. Meeting new people is interesting, especially so many off-worlders. I dream of leaving the planet and exploring the galaxy. Sampling new cultures. New foods. New… people.” She chuckled softly, her breath tickling the hair on his chest. “But first, there is much work here to do. Maria contacted me as soon as you left her camp and bid me to reach out so you would have a contact you could work with in the open. The gods smile on us that you came only shortly after I arrived. Now, we should sleep. Tomorrow will be a busy day if we are to travel to the capital.”

* * *

The next morning, Darrel and Rehema shared a hearty breakfast in his room, then they got dressed and left for the capital. As they walked outside, Darrel raised an eyebrow at the luxury aircar sitting in the alcove, with a driver holding the door open for them.

“You look surprised. I always travel in style.” She gave him a peck on the cheek and preceded him into the car.

“Style I can appreciate, but won’t this draw attention? That runs rather counter to my desires.”

She waved a hand dismissively. “Not in the capital proper, where we’re going. We’d look out of place in anything else.”

Darrel nodded and leaned back in the comfortable leather seat for the ride to the capital, which would take about three hours. They probably could have taken a shuttle and made the flight in an hour or less, but he didn’t mind having the extra time to think.

There was always a possibility that the governor was compromised or being blackmailed, or any other variety of situations. He pulled his pad from his ever-present shoulder bag and pulled up Gavin Cameron’s ImpSec profile. The governor had no wife and no children, so nothing there anyone could leverage against him. That was good. His parents, both of whom had been serving officers in the Imperial Navy, were deceased. They had been on two different ships in the same cruiser squadron in a Swarm attack, and the aliens had destroyed both ships with the loss of all hands. The last surface indicator of potential problems was also clean. His wealth made him unlikely to accept a bribe.

Gavin had gone to college and studied government, history, and diplomacy, then straight into the Imperial Diplomatic Corps after graduation. He had worked in the main office as a researcher and had then been a diplomatic assistant, before the empress raised him to the governorship of Aswan. It was a fairly standard progression, given his education, so nothing odd there.

Darrel glanced over at Rehema, who was intentionally keeping her gaze out the window of the air car so as not to appear to be trying to see his screen. “Sorry, a bit of homework I should have done last night before this visit, but… I was otherwise occupied.”

She turned and gave him a wicked smile and a wink. “Yes, you were. And hopefully will be again later. It’s fine. I’m accustomed to spending time around important men with private matters.”

Darrel grinned and turned his attention back to his tablet. He opened another section of the file, which required a retina verification to unlock. Any time someone in the diplomatic corps suffered a loss, especially both parents, ImpSec placed them under surveillance to gauge any potential for problems. Nothing in this section of the file would be admissible in court, but ImpSec put a premium on making sure people in influential positions weren’t susceptible to being compromised.

Gavin had taken a month off after he’d lost his parents, which wasn’t surprising. He’d spent the time in the wilderness, roughing it on his own. Hiking, fishing, camping… things people often do on vacation, but he did it for a solid month. During that time, he ran across a few people here and there, not out of the ordinary, but of course, in this case, many were ImpSec agents in the field to get a feel for how he was doing.

An agent recorded one of the discussions, and Darrel put a small earpiece in his ear and listened. The entirety of the 15-minute recording was reassuring. Unless Gavin was an excellent actor, which Darrel acknowledged was possible, he was loyal to the Empire. He wasn’t angry about losing his parents. Sad, of course. Hurt, obviously. But not angry at the Empire. He was angry at the Swarm for attacking the Empire. This had been a stranger in the woods, so it was unlikely Gavin would have lied. The ImpSec agent had been the right person in the right place at the right time for Gavin to vent his frustration and pain to, and it had given Darrel what he needed to know. Unless something major had happened since then, which wasn’t apparent in the file, he could trust Gavin.

The aircar pulled into the long driveway that led to the gate of the diplomatic compound that housed the governor and stopped at the gate. A Marine in standard body armor walked up to the driver’s side door, while a second Marine in powered armor stood on the other side of the gate, ready for anything.

Darrel pushed the stud to roll his window down and motioned to the approaching guard. “Over here, Sergeant.”

The Marine nodded and approached. “Something we can help you with, sir?”

“Yes, thank you, Sergeant,” Darrel said, then pulled a data chip from a pocket and handed it over. “I believe you’ll find everything in order.

The Marine looked at Darrel with a skeptical eye, then walked back to the guard station.

Darrel knew what he was seeing. First, the screen would pop up an alert, notifying the person viewing the data that any information displayed was classified. Then, the guard registered their thumbprint as acceptance. It would identify the holder as Imperial Security on a mission to Aswan. It didn’t reveal Darrel’s identity, but it would be enough. If someone inserted the chip into any system that wasn’t Imperial technology, a program in the chip would immediately wipe it clean and make it useless. It was a complex protocol, but one that had worked for a long time. The chip would also reveal his identity as Darren Atkinson, a man in acquisitions for a company on Britannia, and that would be what he said if anyone asked the guard who had come to visit.

After a few minutes, the guard came back and handed the chip back to Darrel. “You’re clear, sir. The rest will have to wait outside the gate.”

Darrel turned to Rehema to apologize, but she smiled and waved a hand to stop him. “It’s fine. I’ll go shopping. Just let me know when you’re done, and we’ll have dinner and… dessert,” she said, and handed him a card with a wink.

He nodded and got out of the car. As soon as he closed the door, the driver backed up and drove away.

Once the car was out of sight, the Marine opened a man-sized door in the double-gate. “Go right up to the main entrance. They’ll be expecting you, sir.”

“Thank you, Sergeant,” Darrel said, and he meant it. The guard was following proper protocol and not asking questions. He knew the guard was curious about what ImpSec was doing on Aswan, but he was a professional and wouldn’t ask.

* * * * *

Chapter Six

Darrel walked through the main entrance into a large foyer. He paused for a moment to pay respect to the Imperial flag that hung from the ceiling, then approached the large desk that was centered along the back wall.

The young man behind the desk smiled up at him. “We’ve notified Governor Cameron you’re here, Mr. Atkinson. Governor Cameron is in a meeting right now, but he should finish shortly. If you’d have a seat, please?”

Darrel nodded and walked over to sit in a plush chair along the side of the room. He’d pulled out his tablet to compose another message for Michelle when a servant approached.

“Can I get you something while you wait, sir? A drink? A light snack?”

“I’m fine, thank you,” Darrel said as he examined the servant. She was a local, without a doubt. The staff might be people he’d need to talk to eventually, but he wanted to keep his presence on the planet a secret for as long as possible.

He turned his attention back to his tablet and the message he was composing while he waited. It was time to bring down the two other agents and set them to work, so Darrel included instructions for them to come down within the next week, via a stealth drop. He wasn’t sure who the Firm had sent, but they’d better be good. ‘The Firm’ was slang for Imperial Intelligence Headquarters, carried over from Earth intelligence bureaus, and it remained so to this day.

Michelle could handle his instructions for a stealth drop in various ways, but generally, an agent would jump from a cargo freighter or shuttle at high altitude and use anti-grav or a wingsuit to get to the ground undetected. It was an insertion method Darrel had used himself many times, but it wasn’t something the average agent could pull off. That was advanced field training, and he hoped the two agents HQ had sent had it.

Darrel included more details on what he’d dug up so far, but he didn’t have much for Michelle to work with yet. That would be the next step. He’d been observing long enough to get a general feel for what was going on, and now it was time to get his hands dirty.

A Marine guard who approached interrupted his thoughts. “Governor Cameron is ready for you, sir.”

Darrel put his tablet in his shoulder bag and stood. “Lead the way,” he said, noticing the Marine was a gunnery sergeant. Odd for a planetary mission, but maybe the Marines knew something was up and had bolstered the guard force.

The Marine led him up a set of stairs and down a hallway, knocking once before opening a large natural wood door. “Go right in.”

“Thanks, Gunny,” Darrel said before he walked past him into the office.

The gunnery sergeant looked slightly surprised that Darrel had recognized the rank insignia, but quickly schooled his features and nodded before he closed the door and left Darrel in the room with Gavin Cameron.

* * *

Before Gavin could say a word, Darrel held a finger to his lips in a shushing motion, pulled his surveillance detection box from his bag, and scanned the room meticulously. The governor watched him curiously but said nothing. After satisfying himself that the room was clean, Darrel put the box away and nodded. “Clean.”

“Well, I would hope so,” Gavin said. He walked over and extended a hand. “Governor Gavin Cameron, but you already know that.”

Darrel took his hand and shook it firmly. “Yes, I do, Governor.”

“Gavin is fine. Have a seat, please, and tell me what I can do for you. And what do I call you?”

“Darren Atkinson, acquisitions agent from Britannia,” Darrel said as he sat across from the governor’s seat at his desk.

“I see. Okay, then, Darren. What can I do for you?”

“You’ve been here for five years, right?”

Gavin nodded.

“How have things changed in the past five years?”

“I have a feeling you already know the answer to that. Generally, the government has become more militaristic, and its patriarchal roots are showing. The foreign ministry advisor would probably know more than I do, but he’s on a ship to Britannia and won’t be back for at least a month.”

Darrel waved a hand in dismissal. “The advisor knows the politics. I want to know about the people. What’s the vibe on the street, so to speak?”

Gavin leaned back in his chair and sighed. “They’re not happy. At all. I’m sure you’re aware of the heavy weight on the scales Aswan is for the Empire. They’re a black hole. They take and take, but don’t have much to give, and don’t seem to be interested in changing that. I’ve set up a few trade deals for some art, like this,” Gavin said, pointing to a delicate blown glass sculpture on his desk, “but that’s not much in the grand scheme.”

“Are they looking to secede?”

“I don’t think so. At least, not from what I’ve been able to gather. They want the benefits of the Empire, but they don’t want to play by the empress’ rules.”

“I had a feeling that was the case. What do you know about the resistance?”

“Not much, other than that the government declared them an enemy of the state. From what I’ve gathered, they’re people who like the relationship with the Empire, and want to maintain it rather than ruin it.”

Darrel nodded. “Correct. And I’m here to make sure they succeed.”

Gavin sat up straight in his chair, and Darrel held a hand up to forestall the questions he knew were coming. “Don’t ask questions you know I won’t answer, Gavin. Just know that I’m here, though you may never see me again. If anyone asks, I’m just a man in acquisitions. Lives depend on that. Can you do that for me, Gavin?”

Gavin swallowed hard and nodded.

“Good, now tell me everything you think I need to know and then tell me more. I promise I won’t get bored.”

* * *

Hours later, Gavin sat at his desk, eating a light dinner after the ImpSec agent had left. He had known things were turning in the system, but he had never even considered that they’d send spies to the planet. He, like most in the Empire, knew very little about Imperial Security. They were the bogeymen of Britannia. Although unseen, everyone felt their actions. At least, that’s what he’d heard.

The trick for him would be acting like he didn’t know what was going on. Fortunately, his duties kept him secluded in his office for the most part, but he had a monthly meeting with the president coming up in a few days. Maybe that could be useful for the agent.

Gavin looked at the black data chip sitting on his desk. The agent had told him it would open a secure program on his computer, which would let him send messages that would get to someone who could do something with the information. He knew nothing more than that. He put the chip in the top drawer of his desk, closed it, then locked it.

* * *

Mina Shamon, Imperial Security field agent, walked into the analysis office in the Imperial Security section of the station orbiting Aswan, followed closely by her ever-present partner, Shane McElroy. She and Shane had gone through training together and teamed up on their first mission. They worked so well as a team, the Firm had decided they would stick together for the long haul. She was a certified sniper, with Shane as her spotter. Or if things got up close and personal, Shane was an expert at various hand-to-hand combat skills, plus he carried a stiletto that was deceptive in its lethality. The man could turn almost anything into a deadly weapon, especially with his expertise in compounding lethal poisons out of whatever he could get his hands on.

There was a rumor around the Firm that Shane had once killed a man with a roll of toilet paper. What the other agents didn’t know was that it was true. Granted, it wasn’t the paper itself that had done the killing… but the contact poison powder he’d placed on it. Still, it gave Shane quite a reputation.

When they noticed Michelle absorbed in something on her screen, they stood still and waited. She had a growing reputation as one of the top analysts in Imperial Security, and you didn’t just interrupt someone like that. It was also why she didn’t generally go into the field. She had a sixth sense for analysis but didn’t look like she’d even noticed they’d entered the room.

After several moments, Michelle looked up at them. “Sorry to keep you waiting.”

“That’s what we get paid to do, more often than not,” Shane said.

“What have you got for us?” Mina asked.

“I’ve got your orders. You’re to do a full stealth insertion on the planet. I’ve been looking for suitable landing spots for you.”

Mina groaned. She hated the stealth bodysuits. Being as well-endowed as she was could be handy for manipulating men, or women, in the field and wrapping them around her little finger, but the bodysuits were tight and compressed things a bit more than was comfortable.

Shane grinned and put a hand on Mina’s shoulder. “It’ll be okay. We can do a rapid descent if you want to get it over with faster.”

“Oh, hell no! Not like last time. This time, you follow my lead. I swear you were trying to get us killed.”

Shane waved a hand dismissively. “Maybe it’s because you’re top-heavy.”

Mina punched him in the shoulder.

“I had that coming,” Shane admitted.

“You two done?” Michelle asked.

“Probably not for a while… but it can wait,” Mina said without missing a beat. “Details?”

The mood in the room turned professional as Michelle brought up a map of the area where Darrel had hiked on the wall screen.

“Here’s the area we’ve scouted.”

“Who’s already on the ground?” Shane asked.

“Oh, I forgot you didn’t know,” Michelle said. “Agent Darrel Atwater.”

Mina pumped her arm. “Damn, now we’re in the big leagues.” Most people in ImpSec knew Darrel Atwater as an effective field agent and one who was tapped for high-priority missions.

Michelle highlighted an area of the map. “That’s a known rebel encampment. The rebels are loyalists, so they’re who we’re here to help.”

“And they’ll be jumpy so we want to avoid landing too close so we don’t get dead,” Shane observed.

Michelle nodded and highlighted another area with a large building in the center. “That’s the resort where he’s established himself. He’s made contact with those in the camp and with a local courtesan who is involved with the resistance. The resort is heavy on surveillance and guards. Agent Atwater thinks they’re giving the appearance of protecting guests but are probably there in case the government needs hostages.”

“Another area to avoid,” Mina observed.

“And most of the surrounding area,” Michelle said as she zoomed the map out, “is desert.”

Mina looked at the map and shook her head. She didn’t see a suitable spot near where they wanted to be to land. “Okay, enough with the suspense. What have you figured out?”

Michelle tapped a few keys on her keyboard, and the map zoomed over to a city. “Here.”

“You want us to insert into a city? Fun!” Shane said.

“You’re insane, you know that?”

Shane looked at Mina with a raised eyebrow. “You’re just figuring that out?”

Michelle ignored them and continued. “The city is like most, nice and proper at the center, and as the wealth goes down, the quality goes down toward the fringes. That’s where you’ll insert. The Aswani military has gotten a bit jumpy in the last few weeks, especially around the capital, which this is, so you’ll have to stay out of sight. When they see your skin, they’ll know you’re not local and might ask for your identification, which you won’t have, because you don’t exist.”

The mood got even more serious as they received that bit of information.

“How black is this op?” Mina asked.

“Pitch black,” Michelle said.

Shane and Mina looked at each other and nodded. They both knew what that meant. If the bad guys captured them, no one would come for them, and the Empire would deny even knowing they existed.

“When do we leave?” Shane asked after a few moments of taking that in.

“A friendly freighter will dock in seven hours to offload some supplies. That’ll take three hours. By the time that three hours is up, you need to be on that freighter, sealed up, and ready to go in shuttle B-23. The shuttle pilot is an asset and will fly a course that’ll put you where you need to be to drop.”

“I guess we’d better pack,” Mina said.

Shane nodded in agreement. “Thanks, Michelle. See you on the other side.”

* * *

Nine hours later, Shane and Mina were tucked between two shipping containers, stripping off the overalls they’d worn as a cover to get onto the shuttle. Then they waited, standing silently for a solid hour and a half. Of course, the loading ran longer than expected. Finally, they heard the cargo door slide closed. The lights in the cargo bay flashed twice and then went out, the signal that they were about to move.

“Okay, let’s get ready,” Mina said.

Their planning told them they’d have 25 minutes from departing the station to their drop zone. That was plenty of time, but they’d been standing as still as they could for over an hour, so they were ready to move around. They pulled on the skin-tight stealth suits they would wear to get onto the planet. Years of working together had stripped any sense of modesty either had, at least around each other, so there was no hesitation.

Shane finished and smothered a grin while Mina worked to maneuver her breasts into place, so the suit was at least moderately comfortable. “Need a hand?”

She looked at him with a mirthful twinkle in her eye. “Later, maybe, but we can’t even afford to lose three minutes right now.”

Shane slapped his hand over his heart and mocked being hit. “Lady, thou doth wound me.”

Mina finally got herself situated and turned around. “Seal me up, big boy.”

“That’s better,” he said and chuckled as he closed up the back of her suit. He lifted her backpack, made of the same stealth material, and locked it to anchor points on her shoulder blades, then he flipped the switch to activate the systems that would integrate it with the suit. “Good?”

She leaned left, right, and forward, then jumped a few times. “Solid. Your turn.”

Shane turned to face away from her, and she repeated the same procedure. After he made sure it was secure and as comfortable as it could be, he turned around to face her. “Doing okay?”

“Yeah. At least these new suits aren’t as bad as the old ones, and the new tech will come in handy.”

“As long as it works.”

She gave him a withering gaze and shook her head. “Don’t jinx it.”

“Systems check.”

Mina tapped her palm with two fingers and nodded. “Mag set.”

Shane wrapped his arms around her and pulled up, unable to move her. “Good lock,” he said. The new suits’ integrated boots with charged sole plates—not unlike the maglock systems in the feet of Marine power armor that let them lock in place on the deck of a shuttle—eliminated the need for anchoring straps during a rough combat drop.

“Your turn,” she said and tapped her palm again to disengage the magnets.

Shane tapped his palm with his fingers and tried to lift his feet, and his right foot came off the ground. Mina frowned and knelt down. “Let me check the connection. Stand still.”

The lights in the cargo bay flashed once. “Five minutes,” Shane said.

“Okay, try again,” she said.

He nodded and tried to lift his foot. This time, it didn’t move. He crouched down and lunged up as if to jump, but he remained rooted to the deck. “Good lock,” he said, relief evident in his voice. “And that cracked my back. I needed that,” he said to cover his nerves after the failed check.

In a ritual they practiced before every mission, they put their foreheads together and looked into each other’s eyes for a minute in silence. It was like they locked onto each other and calmed each other in preparation at the same time. They’d worked together long enough that they could read each other’s thoughts and finish each other’s sentences, and they felt like this maintained that connection.

They heard the lock on the cargo bay door click, which gave them one minute to get ready.

“Let’s do this,” he said and leaned down to gather their helmets. He handed over hers, then pulled his on and sealed it to his suit. One of the functions of the pack they each wore on their back was life support assistance, and they each turned to have a hose connected from the helmet to a port on the pack that would provide an oxygen mix that altered as their altitude changed. It was only good for about 15 minutes, but that was all they would need to get down to a breathable atmosphere.

“Anti-grav,” Mina said through the speaker in her helmet.

They both tapped a sequence on their palms and floated a few inches off the floor. They nodded and disengaged the anti-gravity feature so they could walk to the cargo door. On the way, Mina picked up the black case that went everywhere she went and handed it to Shane. He locked it into place along the side of the pack on her back. It was nearly as tall as she was, but in freefall, it wouldn’t matter.

“Thanks for flying Imperial Air. I hope you enjoyed your flight. Please exit at the rear,” Mina said as the door slid open, then they jumped into the moonless, pitch-black night of Aswan.

Before the shuttle was out of sight, they saw the landing lights flicker once. That was the signal that they were invisible to his radar and heat detection systems. Two flicks would have meant one of them was visible. Three would have meant both of them. So, one was exactly what they wanted to see.

Shane took a moment to scan the skies around them as they fell, holding themselves spread eagle to slow their descent slightly while he checked their surroundings.

“No air traffic. Looks like we’re clear to the ground. For now,” he said over their secure direct comms.

“Lead on, Macduff,” Mina said.

“I keep telling you, that’s not the quote, and not even the right context.”

“Whatever, just get us on the ground, and you can tell me all about it again. I promise I’ll even pretend to listen.”

Shane chuckled and used the built-in GPS functions of his helmet to pinpoint their landing zone. “Of course, now I have Macbeth stuck in my head,” he muttered to himself.

* * *

Darrel sat in Maria’s headquarters in the rebel camp with Rehema. Maria had given him an update on the pockets of resistance she knew about in the area, and he mentally put that together with the information he’d gotten from Governor Cameron.

The most significant problem they faced was communication, and that might be something he could help with, but he would need to bring at least a few of the fleet personnel on the orbital into the loop for anything large scale, which he didn’t want to do. He didn’t doubt the loyalty of the officers serving on the station, but the best way to keep a secret was not to tell anyone. Imperial Security had a few stealth satellites in orbit, but plugging the locals into those could bring about a whole additional layer of problems. He’d have to run it by Michelle to get her thoughts.

Darrel realized he’d let his mind wander when he glanced around, and both of the women were looking at him.

“Solving the galaxy’s problems in your mind?” Rehema asked.

“No, just your system’s,” Darrel responded. “I’ll have two more assets on the ground within the next day. After that, we’ll decide how to progress. There are a lot of landmines we have to step around.”

“What do you mean?” Maria asked.

“I’m not here, remember? Neither are my friends. The Empire doesn’t interfere in system issues like this. Officially, anyway. So, we have to be careful what we do, and how we do it.”

Rehema slumped in her chair. “I thought we would have Empress Elizabeth’s support.”

“I’m here, aren’t I? And I’m not just blowing smoke when I say they send me to places where the job must get gone. Odds are, she has no idea what’s being done personally, but the right people know the right things, or I wouldn’t be here. I, and people like me, look after the Empire’s interests. Right now, that’s you and all the good people of Aswan.”

Darrel looked between them and set his drink aside.

“Imagine what would happen if system leaders knew what goes on in the shadows. They’d all be looking over their shoulders.”

“Maybe they should be,” Maria said. “It would keep them honest.”

He was glad he had set his drink aside, or he would have choked on it. “You find me an honest politician, and I’ll buy you a system all your own.”

Rehema opened her mouth to say something, but Darrel stopped her with a raised hand. “I know what you’re about to say, but the empress isn’t a politician. If the rumors are right, she hates politics, and I have no reason to doubt them. My sources in the palace tell me that she says exactly what she thinks, which is something a politician never does. Trust me. I’m here to help, and we’ll do whatever we can for you, within the limits of what Imperial Security can do.”

“So, you haven’t really said. What exactly can you do?”

“Lots of things. You just have to trust me, because you’ll probably never know most of what I do. That’s safer for you and much safer for me,” Darrel said as he stood. He waved Rehema back into her chair when she rose to follow him.

“My team is coming in, and I need to go out to meet them tonight. Don’t wait up.” He winked and walked out the office before either of them could say a word.

* * * * *

Chapter Seven

Mina was grateful for an uneventful descent. After all, if the anti-grav failed, it wouldn’t be the fall that killed her, it would be the sudden stop at the bottom.

“Time to slow it down,” Shane said.

Mina always let Shane control any drops they did like this. He had actually gone through some training with the Marines doing HALO—High Altitude Low Open—drops. While this was different because Shane and she didn’t have power armor to help cushion their landing, they had better anti-gravity packs and only their body weight to account for. She was certified for these kinds of insertions, but Shane was better.

As they got closer to the ground, she continued to match his descent. As discussed during mission planning, Mina turned her attention to the east, as reckoned by the planet’s magnetic north. She searched the air and ground in a 0 to 180-degree arc, and Shane would do the same to the west.

“Contact, 283 degrees, one klick out. Looks like a campsite,” Shane reported.

Mina turned to look, zooming in with the optics built into her helmet. “Civilians, probably. Looks like some native fauna, as well.”

“Camels, Mina. They’re camels.”

“Maybe.”

“We can avoid them. How’s the east?”

Mina almost reported all clear, but then it wasn’t. She saw what looked like a set of armored vehicles crest a hill in the distance. “New contacts coming in, 90 degrees. Looks like military troop transports, and they’re headed for our campers.”

“Deities, can’t we have a calm drop just once?”

“Not this time. Make the call.”

* * *

Shane turned to examine the incoming vehicles and frowned. Mina was right, those were troop transports. They were about eight klicks out and advancing toward the campsite, not even bothering to steer around small brush, just gliding over it instead.

“They’re on a mission, all right. We didn’t detect any signs of a rebel camp in this area, did we?”

“Negative, too close to the city.”

It could be nothing, pure coincidence, but Shane didn’t believe in coincidences. He ran through scenarios in his head for what the transports could be doing out here, but more importantly, what they should do. They could simply slow their descent, hover, and watch what happened without being detected in the moonless night. Their matte black suits, with all the stealth technology they had, would keep them virtually invisible, but that didn’t feel right, and the transports were closing ground fast.

He marked two spots in the heads-up display on the inside of his helmet, one on either side of the camp. “Execute.”

On his word, they tucked their arms down by their sides, pointed their heads toward the ground, then deactivated the anti-gravity system. Without the anti-grav resistance, they shot toward the ground like bullets.

“Find a perch,” he said as they separated.

It took less than a minute at terminal velocity for them to reach the ground. At the last possible second, he activated the anti-gravity again and touched down softly, going down to one knee, and drawing the silenced slug thrower he carried on his hip, waiting to see if anyone had seen or heard him land.

* * *

Mina searched the area Shane had marked for her, near a hilltop, and nodded mentally to herself. She didn’t get as close to the ground as he did before she activated her anti-gravity to slow down but came in only seconds after he did at his location. As soon as she was down, she unlimbered her case, and quickly assembled her sniper rifle, loading it with armor-penetrating rounds before she found the right position to lie down and set up. It was uncomfortable, with no time to prepare a nest, but that came with the territory. She lifted her visor and scanned the area with her scope. The optics in the helmets were good, but nothing beat a scope for Mina.

“Verified, two troop transports. They’re buttoned up. Looks like a railgun turret on both.” She shifted slightly to focus on the camp. The spot Shane had selected for her landing gave her a good overwatch on both targets of interest. “Campers seem unaware of them, or us. Looks like they’re armed, too. Three men, two women. All have sidearms, and I see at least two pulse rifles. They’re older models, but I assume functional, since they have them.”

The latter was important because, while the armor incorporated into their suits might stop a small-caliber slug thrower, it was useless against the pulse rifles. She did some quick math in her head as she shifted between the transports and the camp. “You’ve got about eight minutes.”

* * *

Shane stalked toward the campsite quickly but quietly. When he got just outside the range of the wood-burning campfire they had set up, built from scrub around the area, he stopped and kneeled, keeping his gun in his hand, and spoke through the speakers built into his helmet. He directed the sound so it would be almost imperceptible to anyone outside the cone of his choosing.

“Don’t jump, don’t grab your weapons. Keep your hands visible. You’re being watched from positions you can’t see, and I mean you no harm. What you can’t see are the two troop transports headed in this direction. You have about five minutes until they get here. So, are you friend to them, or foe?”

Shane observed their reactions, as he knew Mina would be, as he spoke. If they scrambled, they were completely innocent and had no idea what was happening. If they grabbed their weapons, Mina would pick them off one by one. On the other hand, if they sat still and didn’t move, they had some training or were just scared shitless.

None of them stood immediately, but all but one turned their heads in the direction of his voice. The other seemed to search for a second unseen person. A woman slowly stood with her arms away from her sides, but not raised in the air.

“If there are military coming this way, we would rather not be here when they arrive. I assume you can hear me. We’d like to gather what we can and move quickly.”

* * *

“So, are you friend to them, or foe?”

They all exchanged glances, and Nour Wasem shook his head minutely as he saw Mariam reach for her rifle. It figured, he thought, that they would run into trouble on a training exercise. Taheya Attia, a new member of the group, had never even been out in the wild before, having lived her whole life in the city, and he could see the panic on her face, but she was managing it well enough not to bolt. That was commendable in his mind. Bassam and Kaphiri fidgeted and looked to him for guidance. It was their first time on an extended training mission, but they at least had some experience.

The voice that had spoken through some kind of speaker was definitely not Aswani. He couldn’t place the accent, but he knew it wasn’t local. There were rumors of people from the Empire being on the planet often, and even someone people had dubbed “The Snake” having been in the city, but he couldn’t be sure of the motives of the hidden voice. What he knew was, he most certainly did not want to be there when the troop transports arrived.

Mariam Handal was the only other experienced member of the team, so he gave her a meaningful look. They would often let the women do the talking, as they were less visibly threatening. At least most of the time. Mariam had never met a gym she didn’t work out in, and was more muscular than the average Aswani man, so she was the exception to the rule, but she was also more charismatic than Nour. He preferred gunfire to words.

He turned his attention to the opposite direction, searching for anything the naked eye could see while she slowly stood and faced the direction the voice had come from.

“If there are military coming this way, we would rather not be here when they arrive. I assume you can hear me. We’d like to gather what we can and move quickly.”

The voice from nowhere spoke again. “You have five minutes. Move north at 15 degrees. That’ll put you behind a small ridge in three minutes, if you move fast. I assume you have a backup location. If it’s to the south, don’t use it.”

“Evac, evac, evac,” Nour said and quickly shouldered his camping pack.

He reached for his rifle and hesitated.

“Take your weapons; you may still need them,” the voice said from slightly farther away.

* * *

Shane watched as the man who appeared to be the leader of the group called for evac, repeating it three times, which was a very military way of doing things. Repeating commands was something that dated back to World War II on Earth, when communications were spotty, and sometimes a single word wouldn’t be heard by everyone, and it had been maintained for over a thousand years. Now, it was more for clarity. The first two times got your attention if you’d been wool-gathering or focused on something else. The third time is when you execute. That told him the man probably had some military service, or he watched a lot of vids. Could be either.

One of the women tried three times, unsuccessfully, to shoulder her camping pack. Finally, one of the men grabbed it, and the leader grabbed her arm, doing the next best thing to dragging her out of the camp. Unfortunately for her, she missed the grab at her rifle and left it behind.

Training mission? Maybe. Shane thought.

They moved quickly once they got going, and Shane nodded in approval while he strolled into the camp, picked up her rifle, and moved north to follow them.

Mina’s reminder came through their secure comm system. “One minute.”

“Copy,” he said, and jogged a bit to get further away from the camp’s location.

“What do you want me to do?”

Shane thought for a moment. If they let the transports come and find the empty camp, they might just give up, figuring they’d missed them… but if they were any kind of smart and had thermals, they would see the heat signatures on the rocks around the fire where the group had been sitting and know the people who had been there couldn’t be far away. They might spread out, sending one north and one south. Eventually, the vehicle would overtake them as there weren’t many places to hide.

The other option was to take them out. It would be tricky, even with their skills, especially if the transports were full. Mina could probably take out one of the transports by blowing its power plant, but then the second transport would unload to react, giving them far too many targets. Plus, they’d know they got kissed and might call in reinforcements.

Shit, there are no good options. Just have to pick the less bad one.

“Just keep a watch on them and be ready if I call for fire. I’m going to meet up with our campers and introduce myself.”

* * *

Mina sighed as Shane jogged north after the group of five unknowns. She switched to thermals and noticed that the heat signatures from where the campers had been sitting were fading, but not fast enough. The chilly night would overtake the heat and purge it from the rock, but not before any equipment the approaching transports had could detect it. And if they were familiar with the area, they would know how quickly heat signatures decayed in the native rock. At least, if it were her, she would know.

On the positive side, they left no thermal traces of their footfalls on the way out, preventing tracking. Whatever heat their boots or shoes had picked up from the fire had faded fast. So that was something.

The transports drove right up to the site and unloaded. There were only ten soldiers per transport, but that was still too many, especially in an open environment where they couldn’t box them in.

She narrated what she was seeing so Shane would be aware. “Twenty plus the drivers. Body armor and pulse rifles. A bit out of date, but a few of them, probably the sergeants, have up-to-date gear. The turrets are scanning, so I’d guess they have a range of detection built into them. They’ve split north and south for scanning. The troops are spreading out and searching on foot.”

Shane’s response was simple. “Good. Let them waste time.”

* * *

Shane tracked the fleeing campers to a land feature he hadn’t noticed from the orbital view. There was an optical illusion along the ridge. It looked like a solid rock face, but as soon as he got directly behind them, he could see a small crevice. Sneaky bastards. I like it.

“They’ve got a little hidey hole in the ridgeline. Impossible to see unless you’re looking for it. I’m going in after them.”

“Be careful. You know it’ll be trapped,” Mina warned needlessly.

“Oh, I’m sure it will,” he said as he approached slowly and from an oblique angle now that he knew what to look for.

He was good, but he also didn’t underestimate the ingenuity of desperate people. “Desperate people breed desperate measures,” he muttered to himself.

“There you go again.”

“Hush and watch the soldiers.”

“Oh, they’re wandering aimlessly, poking the scrub brush like there are tiny people hiding in them. It’s amusing, actually.”

Shane focused more intently as he approached the crevice. Switching between overlays on his helmet’s visor, he spotted a tripwire across the opening. Clever, but not clever enough. He kept looking, and he grinned. The tripwire was a decoy. It might indeed be active, but there was also an infrared detection beam about a foot in front of it. The tripwire would get someone’s attention. They would approach to disarm it and trip the infrared. Shane liked it.

The field agent stopped just outside the crevice, out of line of sight or fire from deeper in the cave, and activated the speaker on his helmet again. He kept the secure comms channel to Mina open so she could hear what he said and the responses.

“Nice spot you have here. Good trap setup, too. I like the decoy.”

“What do you want?” a man’s voice said. Even though it was a bit muffled, it sounded like the same man who had spoken before.

“I’m not sure yet, but I did just save your lives. Maybe nothing. Maybe something. Let’s say, for starters, some information.”

“Information isn’t cheap.”

“What are your lives worth?”

Shane let that hang in the air for a few minutes. They could interpret it in one of two ways. He had just saved their lives, and the man was in a position where they were likely trapped, and Shane was in front of the only way out.

“Are you the Snake?” a woman’s voice asked, followed by shushing from others.

It was a risk. Based on the intelligence brief, they might be referring to Atwater, or maybe someone else entirely. But it was a risk worth taking if it led to more information. “No, but I have an idea of who you’re referring to, and if I’m right, we work together.”

Shane’s left shoulder blade tingled. A warning sign he never ignored. Since the threat could only be in one place, he quickly unsheathed the stiletto from his right thigh and rolled to his left. As he turned in the roll, he saw someone trying to sneak up behind him with a rifle. One of the women campers. Clever, but again, not clever enough. He could see her pull the trigger, but nothing happened. It would have been a miss anyway, and would have warned the soldiers of their location. Stupid girl, he thought.

With one more quick move, he was behind her with an arm under her left arm, his hand on the back of her head in a half-nelson, and the stiletto’s point against her throat. “You’re lucky the safety was still on, or the soldiers would be charging this way. Now, tell me why you and your friends shouldn’t die right now.”

“Another one above you with a rifle. I have the shot,” Mina said. Of course, only Shane could hear that in his helmet.

“Whoever’s on the ridge. First, don’t stand up and silhouette yourself. Second, don’t even think about it, or you’ll both die here.”

“He caught us,” he heard the man on the ridge above him say, probably into a radio. A moment later, the man spoke again. “I’m coming down.”

“Slowly and carefully, or that weapon hits the deck a second after you do.”

The woman he was holding struggled against his grip without any success and pushed her neck onto the point of the stiletto in the process. “Careful, now. Don’t want to kill yourself.”

The man climbed down in front of them, clear as day in Shane’s night vision, and leaned the rifle against the rock wall. “Now what?”

Shane couldn’t believe what he was about to say, but it was too good. “Take me to your leader.”

* * * * *

Chapter Eight

Darrel took an aircar to the outskirts of the city, under the guise of looking for potential imports for Britannia, and he did browse around the local shops, but as night fell, he wandered away from the city proper and made his way out to the area where the rest of his team would land.

He’d gotten a message from Michelle with coordinates and a general timeframe for the drop. Of course, she’d encrypted the coordinates, then concealed them behind a mental cypher, which meant adding and subtracting from the latitude and longitude to get to the real coordinates. If anyone decoded the coordinates but didn’t know the cipher, they’d end up at some spot in the middle of a desert. It was old-fashioned, but that was why it worked. The only places those numbers existed were in Michelle Montane’s head and his own.

He found a secluded spot to wait, once he changed into his stealth suit, and sat as still as possible. The electronic signature of the suit was small, nearly undetectable to any but Imperial technology, and if he sat still, the suit’s external layer would match the temperature of the surrounding air, which made him invisible even on thermals.

While he waited, he spotted a group of three men and two women moving into the area. He wasn’t sure exactly where they’d come from, but they were being slow and careful. He shifted his position to watch them from a distance. It became obvious that at least one of them had some skill in moving unnoticed, but that was about it. The others were clumsy. Could there be another resistance cell this close to the city that Maria didn’t know about? Given their lack of centralized communications, the possibility existed.

To Darrel’s surprise, they set up a camp and started a fire. Sure, they were in a small geographic bowl in the terrain, but the light would carry, especially on a moonless night like tonight.

He watched the small group while he waited. The leader was obviously one of the men, and he was teaching some basic hand-to-hand combat skills, the kind of training the military would teach, and the man certainly carried himself like he had been a soldier. It wasn’t something Darrel could explain, but it was something he could recognize.

Eventually, he saw the shuttle fly over, and the temperature differential at the rear that told him the hatch had opened to deploy the two additional agents. He spotted them for a moment before their stealth suits acclimated to the air and made them invisible.

They could have turned on narrowband transponders that would let him track them, but there was no need for additional electronic signatures. Besides, they didn’t know he would be waiting for them. Darrel didn’t know who they had sent, so he wanted to evaluate them before he decided how to use them for this mission, which was likely to get hairy with such a small team.

Darrel finally spied them with the Mark I Eyeball, enhanced by the optics in his suit. The stealth suits could do everything but make them invisible to the naked eye, and there were rumors ImpSec was working on that, too. It was a race to see who would do it first: the Imperial Marines or Imperial Security. He doubted the Marines even knew the race was happening.

He watched with interest as one of the slowly descending agents diverted to an overwatch position and deftly assembled a rifle while the other agent approached the camp. What the hell were they doing? Best choice would have been to avoid them completely. There was no need to let anyone else know they were on the planet. He tapped into their secure comms and listened in—one of the benefits of being the team leader—and then he understood. Two troop transports were on the way, and they had decided to warn the locals. Darrel wasn’t sure he would have done the same thing, but he wasn’t in their shoes right now. It was possible they had intelligence he didn’t, so he tried not to judge them prematurely for their choices.

* * *

Shane picked up the weapon and relieved the woman he was holding of hers before he followed them into the cave opening.

“Coming in!” the man called out.

Shane noticed there was no echo, which seemed odd, but it made sense once they made it further inside the cave, into a large artificially created room. Whoever these people were, they had covered the walls with blankets and other material to absorb sound.

Smart thinking.

The other two men and woman were sitting in folding chairs around a small portable heater and looked up when he approached. Shane half-expected them all to be holding their weapons, but they must have realized they were outclassed, or at least outmaneuvered, and accepted whatever came.

* * *

Darrel shifted his position, carefully following while the group moved into a previously hidden cave opening, and witnessed them trying to get the drop on one of his agents. It was out of sight of the sniper, so Darrel had drawn his weapon in preparation, but the agent had sensed the ambush and intercepted it. Good. That meant the agent had experience and a sixth sense all field agents developed. That made Darrel much more confident in the chances of success for this operation.

As soon as the agent moved into the cave, Darrel checked on the overwatch. The agent was still in place, probably monitoring the troop transports and their soldiers. Good.

I guess it’s time to introduce myself, Darrel thought, and rose slowly from his position and moved toward the hidden crevice. Part of this would be getting in without one of his agents spotting him, because he was sure the sniper was splitting her attention and keeping an eye on her partner’s six.

* * *

Nour watched Bassam and Mariam walk in, followed by a man in a matte-black suit that covered him from neck to toe, topped with a slim helmet that concealed his features completely. His gut told him they could trust the man. If he was working for the government, Bassam and Mariam would be dead, and it wouldn’t be a single man rushing the hideout. Nour also realized how dangerous the man was. He was holding a blade as black as the suit the man was wearing, and it seemed to absorb light instead of reflecting it because of its material, or maybe a coating of some type. It was like nothing Nour had seen before.

“Sorry,” Bassam mumbled as he walked over and sat in one of the empty chairs.

Nour waved a hand. “I have a feeling there aren’t many people on the planet who could get the drop on someone like this.”

“Maybe one,” the man in the black suit said, still using the speakers in his helmet, though much softer now in the cave.

“Well, thanks for the warning about the troops. I guess that means you’re not working with Isa’s people.”

“No, I’m not.”

Nour waited a moment, hoping the man would continue, but he said nothing more. “Okay, then, who do you work for?”

“That’s not for me to answer,” the man said, and he unhooked and removed his helmet. “I can tell you, though, I’m no threat to you.”

“Really?” Mariam said, holding up the bloody cloth she’d been holding against her neck.

“That was your fault. You tried to sneak up on someone better than you and got caught. Then, when you were in a no-win situation, you struggled. If you’d known how to escape my hold, it would have been one thing, but you didn’t. You did that to yourself.”

She opened her mouth to say more, but Bassam waved a hand to stop her. “He’s right.”

Nour frowned slightly. He didn’t like this situation at all. Something in his gut told him the man was, or at least could be, an ally to the cause, but their group was small and at risk here in the mountains so close to the city.

“Then who can answer? You’re on my planet, sneaking around, and we don’t know who you are.”

* * *

Darrel carefully moved into the crevice, giving the traps careful study and a nod of approval on his way. They’re not bad, but improvements are possible. He didn’t notice any other sensors or traps on the way in, so they were counting on the ones at the entrance to do the job. Amateur mistake, and these people were indeed amateurs. He hoped they were part of the resistance, and not some random group of anti-establishment people who rejected anything and everything.

He moved deeper, placing his feet carefully. First, his heel would softly touch the ground, then he rolled his foot forward to prevent any sound of footfalls from reaching further into the cavern as he went. Darrel was also listening to the conversation. The campers were nervous, with good reason, but mostly they were curious and wanted to know what was next. The agent was doing the right thing and not answering their direct questions. He could have been vague, alluded to his purpose, but that would probably have just annoyed potential allies even more.

Darrel rounded the last bend and could finally see the group. He unhooked his helmet and let it hang on his back as he strolled into the light cast by the small lamps illuminating the area.

“I can.”

Several of the group reached for their weapons, surprised at his sudden appearance, but the man in charge spoke quickly. “Stop! If he wanted us dead, we’d be dead.”

“Right you are on that one,” Darrel said, and glanced at Shane before looking back to the leader of the group.

“Well, here’s the man who can answer any questions he decides to answer,” Shane said and took a few steps back to let Darrel take the lead.

Darrel heard Mina’s voice over the secure comms channel she had with Shane. “What the hell? I didn’t even see him!”

“Go find out our situation,” Darrel said to Shane, motioning toward the entrance with his head. “Are the soldiers still searching or moving out?”

Shane nodded and slipped his helmet on as he walked back out of the cave.

“Now, to answer your question. Call me Snake. And you are?”

The entire group stared at him like he was some kind of legend in the flesh.

“I’m Nour Wasem. We’ve heard of you. Random bits of chatter. But… you’re on our side?”

Darrel knew he had the upper hand. Sure, there were five of them, but the odds were better than even that he could put all five of them out of commission before they got a shot off. And from the look of it, the leader of the group knew they were the ones being interrogated, not the other way around.

Darrel shrugged. “Depends. What’s your side?”

The man stood and walked a few steps to face Darrel. “We ran because we had to. We’ve all lost family members or friends to Isa and his henchmen’s reign of terror,” he said and spat on the ground. “He keeps it quiet, but anyone who dares to even speak softly against him finds their way to prison or worse. That is not the Aswani way.”

Good, Darrel thought. A cell this close to the city could be useful for staging. “How many are you?”

“Twenty, plus five children.”

Darrel’s expression didn’t change, but he grimaced internally. He didn’t dislike children, but they complicated things because they could be a distraction. But he also knew they were likely there because their parents were, or the government had captured or killed their parents.

“Three of our group are old. They watch the children because they cannot do much else,” the man explained, taking Darrel’s silence for disapproval.

That helps, Darrel thought. “Good. To answer your question, yes, we’re here to help you. Where is your main camp?”

The man shifted on his feet, hesitant to answer.

“You can tell me, or I’ll find it. We’re going to need every warm body we can get for this. The three of us are all I can bring to the table. I can help with plans, tactics, and intelligence…” He paused before going on, deciding not to go too much into what he could do. “… and other things you don’t need to know about right now. But this is your planet. You’ll be doing the heavy lifting.”

Shane gave the man more time to think by walking back into the cave to report instead of doing it over comms. “Looks like the soldiers are packing up and moving out,” he said and shrugged. “Not very dedicated to their task.”

Darrel nodded. He found that odd. It was obvious someone had recently used the camp, so they knew those people were nearby. If it had been him, he would have had aircraft equipped with ground penetrating radar doing fly-overs to check the area, and they would have been on ready-five while the hunt was happening, or better yet, already in the air. The soldiers either didn’t take the threat seriously or just didn’t care. Still, it didn’t feel right.

Darell looked at Naour. “We need to move. How far away is your camp?”

“Thirty minutes at a steady pace.”

“Then let’s get moving,” Darrel said. When they just sat around looking at each other, he added strongly, “Now!”

* * *

Chad Lester, assistant to Imperial Governor Gavin Cameron, walked off the property, which was considered Imperial territory, and out onto the street past the Marine guards. One turned his head to give him a quick glance and a nod, then resumed scanning the streets for trouble. It seemed like such a waste. There had never been an incident, and Chad didn’t think there would be. Who would want to piss off the Empire?

As was his routine every few days, he walked down to Amenset for dinner. There was a server there who was really cute, but Chad had never had the courage to ask him out. Chad had been to the restaurant often enough that he knew Ari’s section, and he had a feeling Ari might be interested. Maybe today Chad would finally get up the nerve.

He entered the restaurant, and the hostess smiled at him. “Mr. Lester, so good to see you again. Your usual section?”

“Yes, please. I assume Ari is working today?”

“Oh, unfortunately, he called out today. But I’m sure Seif will take proper care of you. He’ll be right with you,” she said as she held the chair for him to sit and handed him a menu before strolling back to the hostess stand.

Chad’s smile faltered, but he nodded and followed her, sighing as she walked away. His disappointment lingered, but at least the food would be good. There was always another day.

Like most restaurants in the inner part of the capital city, Amenset was upscale, but not garishly fancy. The restaurant was understated, but it clearly wasn’t for those without means. They printed the menus on actual parchment in oversized binders, not on a tablet computer. He looked at it, though it didn’t really matter. Chad was a creature of habit and always ordered the same thing.

Seif took his order as professionally as Ari would have, and not long after, Chad was eating his dinner, though it didn’t taste as good as it usually did, since he was missing the company of Ari.

He was halfway through his meal when a man walked over from another table and sat down across from him.

The action startled Chad. It was a significant shift in his routine, not to mention incredibly rude to sit without an invitation. “Can I help you?”

The man placed a small device in the center of the table and pushed a button. “Possibly. No, in fact, I think it’s very likely you can, Mr. Chad Lester, assistant to Governor Gavin Cameron. This will make sure our conversation remains private.”

“And why exactly would I want to have a conversation with you?”

“Well, you want to see Ari alive again, don’t you?”

Chad’s eyes went wide, and his mouth dropped open. Instinctively, his hand went to the panic button he always wore on his belt, but the man shook his head and waggled his finger.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you. There are painful ways a man can die, you know. It can take days if done properly, and trust me, I know how to do it properly,” he said, and the look in his eyes told Chad he wasn’t bluffing.

“Good boy. Now, take a bite of your food and listen.”

Chad stared at him, still in shock and debating bolting from the restaurant. One thing Chad was not was a Marine or a fighter of any kind. He’d entered the Diplomatic Service, a disappointment to his parents, who were both serving Navy officers, because he hated the idea of combat. Oh, he wasn’t against it. He knew it was sometimes necessary, but he just didn’t have a violent bone in his body. At least in the Diplomatic Corps, he could still do some good for the Empire. Plus, it got him away from the disapproving gaze of his grandparents, who had all served in either the Navy or the Marines. Chad believed war resulted from the breakdown of diplomacy, and his goal was to work his way up to be an ambassador or governor, and talk out problems rather than use violence to solve them. Of course, now his words were missing.

The man gestured at Chad’s plate and raised an eyebrow.

Chad obediently took a bite of the now tasteless food and chewed.

“Good boy. We don’t want much, just some information I’m sure you can help with.” He placed a paper business card face down on the table in front of Chad. “Be at that address in three hours. If you’re followed, we’ll know, and Ari will die. If you tell anyone, we’ll know, and Ari will die. Nod if you understand.”

Chad glanced around the room with just his eyes, afraid to even move his head, and noticed the restaurant was otherwise empty. Not even the hostess was at her stand where she should have been. They were inexplicably alone.

“No one is going to help you, Mr. Lester. Now… do you understand?”

Chad nodded, feeling a cold stone in the middle of his chest where his heart should be, and a chill ran down his spine.

“Good,” the man said, picked up his device and pocketed it, and left the restaurant.

Chad set his fork down and leaned back in his chair, nearly shivering. He wasn’t sure whether it was fear or adrenaline. Probably both. But he’d definitely lost his appetite.

Seif came out from the back and smiled as he approached the table. “Sorry about that, Mr. Lester. The manager called everyone for a meeting in the middle of the shift. Can you believe it?” he asked and rolled his eyes dramatically. “Is everything okay?”

“Oh, I’ve just, um… lost my appetite, I suppose. It’s not the food,” he added hurriedly. “Just a lot on my mind, I suppose.”

“We’ve all had those days,” Seif said empathetically. “Want it in a box to take back?”

Chad shook his head. “No. Thanks.”

“Something stronger than tea to drink, perhaps? You look like you could use it.”

He considered. He could really use a drink, but he didn’t drink often, and he knew there was nothing weak about the alcohol on Aswan. Chad also knew he needed a clear head. “No, best not. Never know when something will come up.”

Seif nodded, pulled a palm-sized computer from his apron, and presented it.

Chad tapped his chip to pay and did his best to smile. “Thank you.”

“Sure. You’re always welcome here, Mr. Lester,” he said. Then Seif leaned down. “You should ask Ari out for tea next time you see him. He’ll say yes.” Seif winked after he stood, then turned and walked away.

Chad stood a bit unsteadily but got his footing and walked out as normally as he could, giving the hostess his usual smile and nod. Either Seif and the hostess were in on whatever had happened, and they were outstanding actors, or the manager was and had called them into the back to keep them from seeing him accosted by whoever that strange man was.

* * * * *

Chapter Nine

Chad was back inside his room with no memory of having walked there, as distracted as he had been. He sat on the edge of his bed, his foot bouncing in a constant rhythmic tapping, as he always did when he was nervous. Three hours. Well, a little less now. He walked over, fell into the chair at his desk, and pulled up the address the man had given him. It was a warehouse near the city’s starport, which struck him as odd. There was a lot of security around that area. It seemed an odd place to conduct shady business. He could take one of the aircars, and it would only take about five minutes. Probably more like thirty if he walked through the streets, but he wasn’t sure he wanted the extra attention of having to sign out one of the aircars.

He lay down on his bed and stared at the ceiling, trying to decide what to do. This wasn’t his kind of thing. I should tell someone, he thought. That was protocol, but Ari’s life was on the line. The policies for kidnappings were clear. If he was being blackmailed or pressured because someone took someone close to him, he was to report it to the governor and the Marine commander and let them take care of it from there. But the warning the man had given was explicit, and thinking about it made Chad’s forehead bead with sweat. The man was a cold-blooded killer, and Chad didn’t doubt he would kill Ari.

Standing and pacing the room, he murmured to himself.

“Come on, Chad, you want to be a diplomat? This is something you have to deal with. Think it through. What could they want from you? Information,” he said, and stopped where he was. “It has to be about information. That’s the only purpose I could serve for anyone. They want me to spy for them.”

He resumed his pacing and murmuring. “I’m just the assistant, but they probably don’t understand what that means. I’m not privy to most of the secure communications. Some, but not the eyes-only stuff. Not yet, anyway. Gavin doesn’t know me well enough yet, I guess. Or he doesn’t trust me.”

Chad shook his head and gave his forehead a few taps with the heel of his hand. “Don’t be an idiot. The procedures are clear, and they’re there for a reason. There’s not that much happening on Aswan, anyway. So there probably isn’t anything to be let in on. Except… who was that man today? Acquisitions? Right. He didn’t look like a businessman to me.”

Chad stopped again, walked back to his desk to pull up the security footage from the visit of Darren Atkinson, and re-watched it. “He’s a spook,” Chad whispered.

Chad jumped in his seat when someone knocked on the door. He put his hand to his chest to slow his now-racing heart and took a few deep breaths. “Come in,” he said, and the computer system recognized the command and unlocked the door.

Sergeant Ayda O’Kieran, a member of the Marine guard force, opened the door and stuck her head in. “Have a minute, Mr. Lester?”

He nodded and motioned her in.

She stepped into the room and closed the door behind her. She was still wearing her body armor, but wasn’t carrying her rifle, so she must have gotten off duty, since no Marine in the compound would risk being caught by the gunny without their rifle while on duty. “You okay, sir?” she asked. The expression on her face made it clear it wasn’t an idle question.

He stared at her, unsure of how to answer. What he wanted to do was tell her everything that had happened and ask for help, but then he saw Ari’s face in his mind’s eye, and clenched his eyes shut.

Ayda pulled a chair from against the wall, turned it around backward, and sat, crossing her arms across the back of the chair. “Chad, I noticed something was very wrong. You barely glanced at us when you came through the gate after dinner. Usually, you’re smiling and bouncing when you come back from dinner at Amenset. That’s where you were, right?”

Chad opened his eyes in surprise and nodded.

“Don’t act so surprised, Mr. Lester. Your safety is our responsibility, so of course we know where you go. Don’t worry, we’re not spying on your intimate moments or anything,” she said, waving a dismissive hand. “We like to be aware of where our protectees are. It helps to have an understanding of your habits and patterns.”

“I guess that makes sense,” he admitted. It did make sense, and it made him safer, but then he thought about it. If they knew that, they probably trailed him or tracked his panic device. Which meant if he went to the warehouse and wore it…

“I smell smoke, Chad. What’s going on in that mind of yours?” she asked and grinned at her own attempt at breaking the tension.

He glanced at the clock on his desk. He had a little over an hour.

“Have somewhere to be?”

Chad sighed and looked at her. There was no way he could keep this a secret, and he shouldn’t. He had to put the Empire above everything else, even himself, and he felt ashamed that it hadn’t been his first instinct.

“Something happened… and I don’t know what to do. I need help.”

Ayda nodded. “Admitting you need help is the first step. Now, what can the Imperial Marines do for you?”

Once he started talking, it all flowed out. He filled her in on everything that had happened and answered the follow-up questions she asked. He felt better, having gotten it out, but also more afraid for Ari.

* * *

Five minutes later, Chad found himself in the governor’s office, recounting his story to Gavin Cameron, as well as Gunnery Sergeant Allan Hunt, who was in command of the Marine detachment. He told them every detail he could remember.

The gunny pulled up a map of the area on the wall display and analyzed the satellite view. “That’s a hell of a location. Heavy security presence. You’re sure he didn’t say anything about who he represented?”

“Positive,” Chad answered.

“You think it’s Isa trying to get intelligence?” Gavin asked.

“I do, Governor. And that actually works in our favor.”

“How?” Chad blurted out.

“That means they won’t hurt you or your friend until they have what they want.”

“I think you’re right, Gunny,” Gavin said, then turned to Chad. “You’ll have to go to this meeting, Chad, and you’ll have to leave your panic button here. They’ll know we can track it.”

“But—”

“It’ll be fine, Chad,” Ayda said and smiled reassuringly. “Gunny knows his business. Trust him.”

Chad thought it was the first time he’d seen the Marine smile.

“You should get going. Taking an aircar would bring too much attention, so you’ll have to walk it,” Hunt said.

“Right.”

“We’ll debrief you when you get back. Look at everything, and try to remember as much as you can, most importantly, where they take you in the building. Count your steps. You’ve been through hostage training, right?”

He nodded. Every diplomat went through training on what to do if captured. He would expect to be blindfolded, but they were trained on counting steps and turns, so they knew how far they traveled if they were walking. In a vehicle, they would count whatever they could. Bumps in the road, bright spots of light, anything that would narrow down a location if they could get the word out.

“Good. You’ll do fine,” Hunt said and walked toward the door.

Gavin walked out from around his desk and moved in front of Chad as he stood up. He put his hands on Chad’s shoulders and looked into his eyes. “You’ll do fine, Chad. I know this is scary, but you’ve got it in you. For the empress and the Empire, we will protect you and your friend from harm in any way we can.”

Chad met Gavin’s eyes and nodded. He felt reassured, even slightly better about the situation, having gotten Gavin’s direct support like that. It was a side of the governor he’d never seen before. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome. Now get going, and we’ll do what we can from our end. When you get back, come straight here to my office, and we’ll reconvene.”

* * *

Chad felt strange without the familiar press of the panic button’s clip against his waist, but ignored it as best he could. The walk and fresh air helped clear his mind. He practiced counting steps and landmarks in his head as he walked, mentally preparing himself for what he was about to encounter. Whatever that would be.

Ari’s face popped up in his mind, smiling, and Chad smiled naturally, feeling even more at ease. He wasn’t alone; he had the governor, the Marines, and the Empire behind him. Eventually, he walked up to the address the man had provided. There was a single steel door on the side of the building that slid open as he approached. The man who had approached him at Amenset stood there, waiting, and motioned for him to enter.

Chad expected to be searched or something else, but the man just led him into the building, and down plain hallways lined with doors. He counted the steps and the turns. To make things accurate, he took measured steps. They called it an 8-to-5 pattern, but Chad had no idea what that meant. Ten steps, turn left 90 degrees, second hallway. Thirty-three steps, door on the left. Entry pad on the right side with biometrics. The man pressed his thumb to the panel, and the door slid open.

“After you, Mr. Lester,” the man said and motioned Chad into the room.

Chad walked into the room and looked around. It was simple. A metal desk with a computer terminal on it, several monitors on the walls, but no art. Nothing personal at all, like anyone could walk in and use this office for whatever purpose they had.

One of the things his instructors had warned Chad about was not to appear too confident or too comfortable. He had to appear scared, like he had been when he’d left the restaurant earlier, because it was a sure thing they were watching him carefully. He looked at the man, then looked slightly down, not meeting his eyes directly. “Where’s Ari?”

The man walked behind the desk and sat, gesturing at a metal-framed padded chair across from him. “Sit. Your friend is safe, for now. As long as you’re a good boy, he’ll stay that way.”

Proof of life. That was what Gunnery Sergeant Hunt had said, but Chad shouldn’t use those words, or the man would know he’d gotten advice. Chad wobbled a bit and gripped the chair for support, lowering himself down, the action not completely faked. “Can I see him? Please?”

He looked at Chad for a long moment, and studied him, then tapped a few keys on the keyboard. He’d obviously been ready for this request. All the monitors on the walls lit up with the same video feed of Ari pacing around in a room.

At least it isn’t a cell or something worse, Chad thought. It looked like a small, cheap room in a hotel, minus the horrible artwork on the walls. It was plain, but there was a bed, a toilet, a sink, a shower, and a few shelves with what looked like copies of the same jumpsuit Ari was wearing, neatly folded.

“There, you see? Alive and well.”

“That could be a recording,” Chad said.

The man tilted his head and grinned. “Yes, it could. Clever boy. But you’ll just have to trust me. He’s alive and well. If you do what you’re told, perhaps you can see him in person again soon.”

The answer didn’t thrill Chad, but he wasn’t brave enough to push the issue, and he hoped Gunny was right that the man wouldn’t hurt them. “What do you want from me?”

* * *

The meeting didn’t last long, but it left Chad’s insides twisted in a knot. He walked back, glancing behind him frequently, waiting for someone to jump out of the shadows at him. The strange man, who had never given so much as a single name to call him, had told Chad they would watch him. So Chad imagined eyes everywhere, watching him.

He got through the gate like usual, but as soon as the main door of the building closed, Sergeant O’Kieran, in a normal duty uniform now, moved beside him and escorted him directly to the governor’s office. “Well, you’re back in one piece, and you look unharmed. That is good.”

“Physically, yes,” he said. “Mentally…” He shrugged.

She put a hand on his shoulder and turned him to face her in the middle of the hallway. “Chad, you’ve got the Empire behind you. Never forget that. You’re not alone.”

Chad took a deep breath and nodded his thanks.

“Come on, they’re waiting.”

She escorted him the rest of the way, and this time they sat on the more relaxed side of the office. Gavin and the gunnery sergeant were already seated, and Sergeant O’Kieran guided Chad to a plush chair, then pushed a glass with two fingers of a dark amber liquid into his hand. “Scotch, from Britannia. We figured you could use it.”

Chad nodded and downed the entire glass in one gulp, wincing at the smooth burn down his throat and into his stomach.

“Well, so much for that,” she said, and refilled it from a decanter before taking a seat and leaning back in her chair.

“Take your time and tell us what happened, Chad,” Gavin said.

* * *

Michelle Montane sat in her office, in a secluded and well-protected area of the Imperial station that orbited Aswan, and dug through every piece of communication they could intercept. It was obvious Isa was moving troops around to quell any pro-Imperial sentiment, and he was becoming bolder about it. The Firm had been right to send them out here, and she knew Darrel was the right man on the ground. She was just fine in her office, analyzing data. She’d gone through standard field training, but when the higher-ups had seen the way she worked with data and found things no one else spotted, that was where she stayed.

A map on the wall showed the entire surface of Aswan, broken into sections to keep the proportions correct. All over the map, there were small blue dots representing the pro-Imperial resistance—the people Hanbal Isa called rebels—and red dots showing the Aswan military. Red squares indicated their military bases, and circles showed individual divisions spotted by their satellites. Jagged lines across the map showed troop movements over the past month, and straight dark red lines showed their aircraft flight patterns. ImpSec tracked everything, and her job was to make sense of the apparent chaos.

Besides that, the scuttlebutt about Isa operating—or at least allowing—pirate activity in and near the system was growing, so that was another thread she was pulling to see what would unravel.

As she looked through a new batch of intercepts, an alert box came up on her monitor that had one purpose. It meant the Imperial governor, Gavin Cameron, had used the chip Darrel would have given him. She opened the message immediately and read through it.

After reading it twice to make sure she hadn’t missed anything, she forwarded it to Darrel, who would receive it the next time he linked his comm device up with the satellite. Then she pulled up everything she had about the restaurant and the warehouse where the mysterious stranger had ordered Chad Lester to meet with the abductors. They wanted information, which meant they had to work for Isa. If she could prove it, that would just add more fuel to the fire and prove that Isa was up to no good. He wasn’t dumb enough to take an Imperial citizen, but his security people had threatened one, and that was enough to piss Michelle off. Anyone who knew Michelle knew she wasn’t a fighter, but she would surely find anything that could be used to bring down the people who earned her ire.

* * *

Darrel lay on his bed in his room at the resort, Rehema sleeping soundly with her head on his chest, and stared at the ceiling. The meeting with the new resistance cell had gone well, but there wasn’t much to work with. He could arm them from one of Imperial Security’s caches, but he’d only be able to use them for hit-and-run strikes. He didn’t have time to train them on much else. One, the leader, was a hunter, so he had some tracking ability and could be stealthy when he needed, so maybe Darrel could put him to work doing some scouting, but that might also be more dangerous than it was worth, since he didn’t have a stealth suit. That wasn’t something Darrel could provide. The stealth suits were custom-made for the wearer.

He’d left Mina and Shane in the camp, and they would work with the rebels on tactics for the types of operations they might need, so that was one less thing for Darrel to worry about. What he was worried about was the message he’d gotten from Michelle. Isa’s people—it had to be them—had abducted someone for the purpose of controlling the governor’s assistant and getting him to spy for them. Chad had done the right thing, and Darrel felt a sense of responsibility to free his friend, but it was going to be tricky. The first thing they had to do was find out where they were keeping him. Michelle was working on that. Until then, there wasn’t much for Darrel to do. Once they knew, he would have to decide what to do. Sometimes you had to make sacrifices for the Empire, but a civilian wasn’t on the list of those he’d sacrifice if he could help it.

Darrel decided he would go back to the capital city again tomorrow. He reached out to the nightstand, retrieved his comm pad, and sent a message off to Governor Cameron, telling him to expect Darrel to visit sometime within the next day. Darrel never gave a specific time, unless it was mission-critical, because in his business, you never knew what would come up. Plus, if someone intercepted the message, it would make him a target. He set the device back down and felt Rehema’s hand wandering over him.

“Don’t you ever sleep?” she asked in a drowsy but still seductive voice.

“Sometimes,” he answered honestly. “Sorry, didn’t mean to wake you.”

“Well, you did, and now you’ll have to show me how sorry you are,” she said and moved on top of him. “Several times.”

* * * * *

Chapter Ten

First thing the next morning, after a quick breakfast with Rehema, Darrel made his way to the city, hiring a car to take him. It fit in with the persona he was projecting, and it let him take a brief nap on the trip to catch up on some missed sleep. The car dropped him off in the market district, and he spent some time window shopping, talking to local business owners and craftsmen and women in his guise of a man from Britannia who was in acquisitions. He was also reading them, feeling their level of comfort and confidence, and many of them were nervous, but they hid it well. Finally, a little before lunchtime, he made his way to meet with the governor.

He walked up to the gate and found the same set of guards who had been there before. The woman recognized him and motioned for the other guard to open the gate. “You’re expected. Head on in,” she said.

Darrel nodded and continued past them, up the driveway, and into the entryway. Apparently, they’d called ahead, because the gunnery sergeant he remembered was waiting.

“Welcome back, Mr. Atkinson. Please, follow me; Governor Cameron is expecting you.”

“Thanks, Gunny,” Darrel said and followed him to Gavin’s office. On the way, out of habit, Darrel looked around and noticed several differences from his last visit. There was a different person at the reception desk, who gave him a nod of greeting. Darrel returned the nod, but his eyes kept wandering. There were four more guards in standard body armor. He also made a mental note about the two Marines in full power armor he’d spotted outside. Although not hidden, they weren’t easily visible to the casual observer. The Marines had stepped up security. Not incredibly obvious, but Darrel’s trained eyes noticed.

That might be a mistake, he thought. If the governor wasn’t supposed to be aware of what was happening, the changes didn’t make sense, unless there was something else Darrel wasn’t aware of. He reserved judgment until he found out more.

This time, instead of the gunny letting him in and closing the door, he followed him in and closed the door behind him.

Gavin rose from his chair and crossed the room to shake Darrel’s hand. “So good of you to come by. I hope you can help us. We’re a bit out of our element here.”

Darrel held a finger to his lips after shaking Gavin’s hand, pulled his small detector out, and walked around, scanning everything. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust the governor, but there were locals on the staff, and Hanbal Isa wasn’t above using kidnapping and blackmail to manipulate people. The room came up clean, and he tucked the box away and nodded. “Clear. Now, let’s get down to business. Tell me everything.”

There was a light knock at the door as he and Gavin sat. Gunnery Sergeant Hunt opened the door to let Chad in, and he stopped still when he saw Darrel.

“Come on in, Chad,” Gavin said. “This is Darren Atkinson, from Britannia. He might be able to help us with our problem.”

Chad looked confused but nodded and walked over to sit in the other chair facing Gavin’s desk, while the gunnery sergeant closed the door and leaned back against it with his arms crossed over his chest.

“You’re… the businessman from Britannia?”

Darrel pulled a recorder out of his pocket and placed it on the desk. “Maybe I’m a little more than that. All you need to know is, I’m someone you can trust, and if there’s anyone on this planet who can help you, it’s me. You’ve been through all this before, probably several times, but I need to hear it from you. Everything, starting with the moment you walked into the restaurant.” He pushed a stud on the recorder and nodded for Chad to begin.

Chad told his story, and Darrel interrupted him frequently, asking detailed questions and getting as much information as he could. In a situation like this, even something that seemed insignificant to Chad might help Michelle figure something out.

After an hour of what was basically an interrogation, Darrel felt he’d gotten everything out of Chad that he could and pushed the stud to stop the recording. “Very good. That was very good, Chad.”

Chad looked at Darrel with hope and fear in his eyes. “Do you think you can rescue him?”

Darrel looked at the man and felt pity for him. He didn’t want to give the young man false hope because Darrel had one mission on this planet, and the life of one civilian was next to nothing in the grand scheme. He would never jeopardize his mission for a rescue attempt, but if there was a way to do it without losing the bigger battle, he would. “I don’t know, but I give you my word I’ll do my best. When are you meeting with them next?” Chad had told him, but he had already been thinking up plans and relying on listening to the recording to pick up what he’d missed.

“Two days. They want me to tell them about all the Imperial military people who might be on the planet, even if they’re off duty and vacationing.”

Darrel pursed his lips as he considered for a moment, then nodded. “We’ll come up with something for you to give them. For now, just go about your business as usual.”

Chad understood the dismissal and stood. “Thank you. For whatever you can do.” He turned, and the gunny let him out of the office.

“So, what’s your plan?” Hunt asked before Gavin could.

“I’m not sure yet. I’m going to get this recording to someone who can analyze and put together puzzle pieces far better than I can. In the meantime, we need to work on a list to deliver. Some of it needs to be actual information, like the guards who are openly seen here. They’ll be able to figure out if that’s fake.”

“What about the rest?” Gavin asked.

“Are there many off-duty personnel on planet?”

The governor shrugged. “I’ll have to check. We get that information, but I never really look at it.”

“Put it together and send it to the address you have,” Darrel said, not specifically mentioning the comm chip he’d given Gavin. “For now, I need to use your secure comms.”

“I’ll take you,” Hunt said and opened the door.

“Thank you, Mr. Atkinson,” Gavin said as he stood and extended a hand. “I know this isn’t really your problem, but—”

“Any threat to an Imperial citizen, even a sideways one, is my problem, Governor,” Darrel said, cutting the governor off and shaking his hand. “I’ll do what I can…” His voice trailed off, leaving unspoken that there were bigger fish to fry.

“I understand.”

* * *

Darrel sat down in the secure comms room, which was little more than a closet, and logged into the system. He slotted a chip into a panel that would add another layer of encryption to the already protected tight-beam communication laser aimed at the Imperial station in geosynchronous orbit above them. Over time, it was entirely possible that the Aswani could have accidentally found the communication stream, though it was only active while in use. But he doubted they could decrypt it, and the added layer made it even more secure. He hadn’t intended to put this tool into play until later in his planning, but something told him this was far more important than it appeared on the surface.

It took a few minutes, but finally, Michelle’s face appeared on the screen. “Fancy hearing from you,” she said. “What do you need?”

“I’m sending you a recording to go through. Maybe you can pull something I missed out of it.” He plugged the recorder into the panel and pushed the Send button.

A few seconds later, she nodded. “If there’s something there, I’ll find it. I assume you got the package I sent?”

Even with all the encryption and the low risk of interception, it was in their nature to say as little as possible. The “package” was the two agents.

“Yes, both pieces arrived in perfect condition. I’ve already got them where they’ll be of use.”

“Anything else you need?”

Darrel shook his head. “No. I’ll probably be out of touch for a bit. I’m going to travel some, see more sights. Try to find other locations that might hold some value.” He knew Michelle would understand that meant he was going out in search of other cells of resistance. His primary mission was still to get them linked up and in communication.

“I’m working on a solution once you do. I should have something in place within a few weeks. It’s taking time to get all the pieces right where I want them.”

“I have faith that you’ll do whatever you set your mind to,” Darrel said, and he meant it.

She shrugged. Darrel knew she never felt like she was doing anything special. Like Darrel, she was just doing her job.

“I also want you to craft some fake dispatches for Chad to hand over. Give them just enough truth, but get them looking in the wrong place. Include some things that are public information to give them confidence in his veracity.”

“Consider it done. Anything else?”

Darrel shook his head.

“Stay in touch. And stick to the tall grass,” she said with a rare grin and cut the signal.

Darrel smirked at the blank screen. “What grass?”

* * *

Hours later, Darrel walked through the hilly area outside the city. He’d taken a long, circuitous route, making sure Aswani intelligence wasn’t following, and finally came up on the camp where he’d left Shane and Mina. He approached the camp slowly and picked his path to test their security. It needed work. Darrel was able to get into the cave system and walk right up to Mina, Shane, and Nour, who were sitting around a table, just finishing a meal.

“Need to work on your security,” he said as a way of announcing himself.

In the blink of an eye, he was looking down the barrels of two weapons, one each from Shane and Mina. Nour just sat and stared. He might have been even more surprised, since Darrel wasn’t wearing a stealth suit. He was in everyday clothes.

“Well, that’s a good way to get dead,” Mina groused and set her pistol down on the table.

Darrel walked around to sit in the last empty chair around the small, square table. “We’ll all die, eventually. Besides, if I had, you shouldn’t be in the field. Never shoot what you haven’t identified,” he said, quoting a part of the basic training they’d all been through.

“Still,” Shane said.

Nour finally gathered his wits and asked, “How did you do that?”

In a deadpan voice, Darrel answered, “Very carefully. Don’t worry, I’ll walk you and your people through how I got in, so it will never happen again. If I can get you secure enough that not even I can get in, you can stop sleeping with one eye open.”

“To what do we owe the pleasure of a surprise visit?” Mina asked.

“There has been a development,” Darrel said, and then laid out the details on the abduction of the Aswani citizen to leverage the governor’s assistant.

After they absorbed the information, Shane nodded. “So, they have a feeling we’re up to something.”

“Of course they do. They’d be stupid not to. While I think they’re not the brightest stars in the sky if they believe the empress would let this slide once they’ve done whatever they’re planning, they didn’t get this far by being completely oblivious.”

“Valid point,” Mina agreed. “So, time to play a card?”

“Soon,” Darrel said. “M&M is close to having comms ready. Then we’ll start moving.”

“Communications? How?” Nour asked.

“Probably a cluster of seeded stealth satellites. They’ll be in a low, decaying orbit, but they’ll last as long as we need them. If we give Isa too much more time, he’ll be harder to get rid of.”

“Not just him, but his ideology,” Shane continued, clarifying things for Nour, since he had a better understanding of the way the local leader thought. “People like Isa are like a virus. They infect those around them, then it spreads. If it spreads too far without being quarantined or defeated, it’s often a lost cause. In this case, it’s something that’s always been here. He’s just waking it up in those who want the patriarchy back.”

“And that… is not going to happen,” Mina said.

“I’m going to borrow Mina and Shane for a few days. We have a small op to take care of. But I assure you, you’ll be glad when they get back.”

Nour nodded. “We’ll keep training and be ready.”

“You two gear up for a two-day hike, then meet me at the north exit in half an hour.”

They stood and jogged away without questioning him.

“Why do they call you Snake?” Nour asked.

Darrel looked at him and considered. He wished there was some grand story behind it, but it was three basic things. Those who couldn’t find them often referred to spies as snakes. The people looking for Darrel had used the term a lot during their pursuit, and he just liked it. Though perhaps there was more to it. Sure, lots of folks called ImpSec agents snakes behind their backs, but Darrel didn’t mind it. That’s what he was, and he was good at it.

Finally, Darrel looked him in the eyes and asked, “Does it matter?”

* * *

The trio made what Darrel figured would be a two-day hike in a day and a half. Popping a few stimulant pills—called stims by the Marines—and skipping some sleep helped. He’d pay for it later, but this was important. He pulled his pocket computer out, double-checked the GPS coordinates, and walked up to a sheer rock face.

“Don’t tell me we’re climbing that,” Shane said.

“Why would we do that? We’re here,” Darrel responded, walked up to a section of rock, and felt around.

“Okay…” Mina said skeptically.

After a minute or so, he found what he was looking for, a perfectly smooth section of rock. It blended perfectly with the surrounding rock because it was designed to do exactly that. He pressed the camouflaged button, a small access panel popped open, and a computerized voice came from a small, tinny speaker.

“You have sixty seconds to identify.”

Darrel turned and winked at Shane and Mina before he moved to stand in front of the panel. He leaned down to put his eyes level with the dual retinal scanners and placed his palm on a black glass surface.

“Identity confirmed. Please stand by,” the computer said again after ten seconds of scanning his retinas and palmprint.

“Damn… I’ve never seen one of these before,” Shane said.

“One of what?” Mina asked, slightly frustrated.

“Not everyone has that information, Shane. Go ahead. Enlighten her,” Darrel said while he leaned against the rock wall and waited. “Let’s see what you know.” Everything is a test, he thought to himself.

Shane nodded and spoke confidently. “This is a cache placed by Imperial Security, just in case someone like us might need it. They’re seeded all around the Empire and sometimes outside it. Only top field agents know the locations, and only when they are about to go on a mission nearby. They contain weapons, equipment, and anything else an agent might need to get the job done.”

When he was done, Shane looked at Darrel for approval. Or was it a question to see if there was more?

“Mostly right. I have access to all of them, anywhere, but that’s because I often work alone, and travel can take me to several systems. The director and some of his staff also have the information, of course. Other than that, pretty much. The only other important fact is, they’re completely black. They don’t exist. Their locations are held on devices like this.” Darrel held up the pocket computer.

“You won’t find them in any database or computer system connected to the Empire. Plausible deniability. Plus, our sources aren’t always… reputable.”

“System check complete, stand clear,” the computer voice said. Then the trio of agents heard several loud clicks.

Darrel knew those were the locks releasing. Thirty-millimeter bolts secured the door up and down the sides. Once they retracted, the door swung into the cache instead of opening out, where it would create a new profile visible from the air.

“Nice!” Mina said and started forward.

Darrel threw his arm out across her chest to stop her. “Not so fast. We think of everything. What if you knew this was here and somehow managed to force me to open it? What would you do?”

“Go in and check it out, of course.”

Darrel smiled, but it wasn’t a pleasant smile. “That’s right. And you’d end up very dead.”

“How?” Shane asked, very interested, as traps were some of his favorite toys.

“Wait,” Darrel said.

They watched as the door slowly opened. The walls of the opening were seventy centimeters wide, and the door was just as large and heavy. The door finally reached the top, a loud click echoing in the pitch-black darkness of the cache to signal it was locked.

They could all feel and smell stale air flowing out of the opening, as built-in circulation systems kicked on.

“Now?” Mina asked.

“Not yet,” Darrel said and walked up to the opening. Shane and Mina were a few steps behind him, glancing around occasionally to make sure there were no observers.

He walked up to a small black square built into the frame that had held the massive door and pressed the flat of his middle finger against it.

“What would happen if you used your thumb, like most people would make you do?”

“Boom,” Darrel said. “A very, very big boom.”

“So the security system relies on the agent being willing to kill themselves,” Mina said. It wasn’t a question, it was a simple statement.

“Aren’t we all? Isn’t that what we do for the Empire?”

Shane and Mina both nodded seriously. “For the Empire,” they said in unison.

“Access confirmed. Security systems disarmed. Locks disengaged. Power fully restored.”

Rows of lights came to life, illuminating the cavernous room, and Darrel heard them both gasp audibly. One of the rare times you could catch an agent by surprise was their first time seeing the kinds of things Imperial Security squirreled away for a rainy day. Darrel was of two minds about the caches. They were useful, but he also knew they could be dangerous. Most people in ImpSec were loyal to the Empire, but there was a growing contingent that seemed more interested in personal gain, and that bothered him. He was afraid the day would come when these locations would turn out to be a mistake that was looked back on with distaste and contempt. Which reminded him; he wanted to find out what Xavier Isaacson was up to. Mina’s voice drew him from his thoughts.

“Can we go in now?”

Darrel nodded and walked in, with the duo close on his heels. The room extended in both directions for quite a way. He wasn’t sure of the exact dimensions, but it was large enough for the four assault vehicles parked along the center line, all with turret-mounted railguns, and rows upon rows of shelves to either side, stacked high with crates of weapons, ammunition, explosives, and anything else a black-book operation might need to overthrow a government.

“Let’s get you two registered for entry. Right now, there are only about five agents who have clearance. We lost two on a mission recently.”

He led them over to a panel on the inside wall and hit a button, causing the door to close. It was slow again, but finally it locked in place.

“To override security, or change it, you have to seal the cache first. Don’t worry, now that it’s active, it’ll stay well ventilated.”

“What about heat or cold signatures from the exhaust?”

“Piped into an underground hot spring. Nothing visible from the air or orbit,” Darrel answered. Then he got them both registered with the system to allow them access in case something happened to him.

“Deities… how did anyone get all this in here with no one noticing? And where did it come from?” Mina asked.

That was a common question about the caches, but one without a simple answer. “Maybe someday you’ll figure all that out, but today is not that day. Everything that needs power has been on a trickle charge to keep them alive, but nothing’s going to be fully charged. Take a look around, see what the cache has, then we’ll head back.”

“I don’t suppose we could bunk out here and get some real sleep?”

Darrel grinned. “Sleep? You’ll sleep when you’re dead. Grab twenty minutes, then get to work. There are places to go, people to see.”

* * * * *

Chapter Eleven

Once he dropped Mina and Shane off at the camp so they could catch up on sleep, he made his way back to the city. Oh, he caught some quick naps along the way, but he hadn’t had anything like several hours of uninterrupted sleep in nearly four days now, and it wore on him. He was still sharp, in his mind, but a human could only drive their body so far before it demanded rest, so he had to give in. Being dirty and worn out from the hike worked for him. He wandered into a flophouse along the outskirts of the city around noon and tossed a few hard credits to the man wearing a scowl at the counter that served as reception.

The man pointed down the hall. “Room 105, no locks. You’ve got until morning.”

Darrel nodded, hardly looking up, and wandered into the room. Once inside, he straightened up from his slouched posture and looked over the room. There was what might generously be called a mattress in one corner, covered with who knew what, though his experience told him bloodstains were present in no small volume.

He shook his head and continued looking around. In the corner, he spotted a discarded can of something, certainly some variety of alcohol. “Guess housekeeping has the year off,” he muttered to himself, but he was glad it was there. He picked it up and placed it in front of the door, so if anyone opened it, it would at the very least make a sound as it moved across the floor. That was the best he could do to secure the room. With another glance at the filthy mattress, he opted for the hard floor, where he sat with his legs crossed and his back against the wall, and closed his eyes.

Imperial Security agents had many skills. Some of them were better than others, and which skills you excelled at were what got you placed where you belonged. Darrel, for example, could handle himself in a fight better than some field agents, though not as good as others, but it was enough. His true strength was observation, planning, and putting the intelligence gained to use through the application of force or pressure as necessary to accomplish his mission. Darrell wouldn’t complete this mission’s goal with weapons. He’d complete it by making sure the right people made the right decisions, even if that meant making sure the right decision was the only option they had. Oh, the weapons would help keep people alive, but if he did his job right, there wouldn’t be a single pitched battle before he was done. That was the perfect mission. It rarely happened, but a man could dream. Do snakes dream? he wondered to himself as he drifted off.

* * *

Darrel did not, in fact, usually dream. Or if he did, he never remembered them. Maybe it was because he was a very light sleeper. A few hours after he drifted off, he was instantly awake at the sound of the can sliding across the floor. Whoever was opening the door had noticed it and stopped to reach through and move it aside. He heard loud whispers. A male and a female. He allowed his eyes to open, barely a slit, so he could see what was happening.

Neither of them appeared to be armed. Were they really coming into a room at a flophouse like this, hoping to rob someone? He could have taken them both to the ground, unconscious or dead, before they knew what had happened, but that was one of the things that separated him from some of the newer brutes coming up through the agency. Empathy. These people were desperate, and they were the kind of people he was here to help, in the end. They weren’t street toughs, out to shake people down. They were rail-thin and desperate for whatever they could find. The kind of people those in power should be helping and protecting.

As soon as they closed the door behind them—a mistake on their part—Darrel spoke in a soft, but firm, voice. “Whatever you believe you are going to find, you’re not. Stand where you are, don’t move, don’t yell, and no harm will come to you. Nod if you understand.”

They both nodded vigorously.

As he thought about it, yelling undoubtedly wouldn’t have mattered. It was probably normal around here, and that pissed him off. He opened his eyes fully, got a better look at them, and sighed. “Sit,” he said, then glanced at the mattress. “You can risk that if you want. Personally, I recommend the floor.”

“What are you going to do to us?” the woman asked in a shaky voice.

“Nothing,” Darrel said. “Well, nothing but talk. I think it’s only fair, since you interrupted my sleep, that you repay me by having a conversation, don’t you?”

The man’s eyes widened in confusion and a healthy amount of fear. They could tell he wasn’t a man to be messed with, and they’d made a grave error in picking their mark.

“Let’s talk about how you got to this point. Trying to steal from someone who, by appearances, is probably down to his last credit.”

Over the next hour, they talked. Darrel got their story and was even more convinced, if that was possible, that Isa needed to be replaced, and sooner rather than later. It would be mostly bloodless if he could manage it, but if not, that was fine, too.

After he gave them a few credits for food, they left. He closed his eyes again, but this time, he didn’t sleep. He thought.

An Imperial Security agent’s job was to carry out the orders he was given, not to think about why the orders were given. But Darrel ‘Snake’ Atwater wasn’t a typical ImpSec agent. There were requirements for a star nation to be a member of the Empire. One of them was universal suffrage, which was obviously on the path to being violated on Aswan. The other was a large amount of legalese, but it amounted to treating your people well and with respect. That was already gone here. Either was grounds for the Empire to take steps against the government. That could take many forms, up to and including being expelled from the Empire. But if that was what the empress had wanted, Darrel wouldn’t be here. She would probably never know the full details of what Darrel did, but the result would be the best one for the Empire. Someone must see some benefit to rehabilitating Aswan and keeping it as a member of the Empire, so that’s what he would do.

The empress herself would never know what happened, but a handful of people would, and they’d never say a word about it. A new leader would be in place, and Aswan would be back on the proper path. There would be no medals. No accolades. But he left those to the Navy and Marines. He respected the empress. Well, he didn’t know her, but he respected the office. Darrel didn’t do what he did for any one person. He did what was best for the Empire. As the sun dipped below the skyline of the capital city, Darrel left the room to the couple so they could use it until morning to rest in relative safety and solitude. He’d had enough sleep to hold him for a while, and there were things better done under the cover of darkness.

He made his way to the starport district. It was a sprawling area on the edge of town, full of warehouses and business offices, many of them satellite offices for companies around the Empire that traded with Aswan. One of the perks of being in the Empire, one he was sure Isa didn’t want to lose, was not having to pay the tariffs on imports and exports that a non-member had to pay.

Trade was all about shipping, and the Empire spent a great deal of money supporting and protecting that shipping. Piracy still existed, and second-line Imperial Fleet units patrolled shipping lanes in hyperspace to defend ships against it. And the shipping lanes themselves didn’t just mysteriously appear. The Imperial Exploration Corps mapped hyperspace and the normal space inside star systems to establish those paths. Those services cost money, but Imperial star systems didn’t pay up front for those services. Instead, they paid annual taxes to the Imperial government, which paid for those services.

But non-Imperial star systems didn’t pay annual taxes to the Imperial government. Since the Empire’s rulers would not give traders from those systems a free ride, non-Imperial traders had to stop and pay tariffs in every star system they passed through. The Lion Throne felt it was a small price to pay for the usage of the services the Empire provided.

Darell continued to study the starport. Something that made an area like this different from the rest of any city was that it was active all day and night. Ships coming in and leaving worked on their own clock and didn’t care if it was the middle of the night on a planet where their shipping destination was. They had cargo to drop off or pick up, and it needed to be done promptly. A ship sitting in dock wasn’t making money. For that reason, some areas of the district were lit by harsh artificial lighting, but that was fine with Darrel, because it also created very dark shadows in the areas where there was no activity, and it was enough to mess with the night vision of anyone looking out. Unless someone had trained them to adapt quickly, like Darrel.

Darrel crept around the area, moving from shadow to shadow, until he got to the building he was interested in. The one Chad had visited to meet with the mysterious kidnapper, whom Darrel had no doubt was one of Hanbal Isa’s agents. The side fronting the street was well-lit, but moving around behind other buildings, he was able to find a good vantage point with access to the rear of the building. There was only a single door at the back, and no doors on either side. So, one in the front, one in the back. Easy to secure. That wasn’t good for Darrel, but it wasn’t a deal-breaker. There were also windows all along each side. The workers liked natural light, and Darrel hoped at least one person who had an office liked to open their window from time to time and forgot to lock it. Tonight wasn’t the night for infiltration. He’d want to be better prepared for that, but he could check a few things.

As he studied the building, a fast motion in his peripheral vision caught his attention, and he turned, ready to fight, and stifled a snort when he realized it was a cat. Well, sort of. It had six legs as opposed to the normal four, but its coloring reminded him of something he’d seen before. He’d studied Aswan and Egyptian history before the mission, and it hit him. It looked like an Egyptian Mau. It must have jumped down from the roof, which gave Darrel an idea.

He kneeled and scratched at the ground as the creature watched him, and slowly it approached. Being around this district, it would be used to people, and was likely fed scraps by someone or found its own. It was a bit larger than the standard-sized cat in the images he’d seen, so it had to eat a good deal to stay as healthy as it looked. Finally, it reached him and nudged his hand with its head, as if it were giving Darrel the privilege of being close to it.

Darrel rubbed its head and behind its ears, and it began to purr audibly. After a few moments, it moved closer and pushed its body against his leg. He grinned and looked over at the building he was interested in. “I wonder if you could do me a favor…” he said to himself, looking at the cat. It technically wasn’t a cat, he knew, but if it looked like a cat, and purred like a cat, it was a cat.

When he spoke, the cat stopped purring and looked up at him, straight in his eyes. Darrel would swear the cat was waiting for him to say something else. He slowly wrapped an arm under the cat and picked it up. She, Darrel could tell now, must be used to such treatment, because she retracted her claws and reached up to tap his cheek with a paw.

He considered tossing the cat to accomplish what he wanted, but he got an odd feeling that the cat was more than met the eye. Humanity had yet to discover a true sentient animal capable of communication, even this far away from the Empire’s home planet of Earth, but some things held true. If an animal was around people enough, it would understand some things, and even follow directions if trained to do so. Though he knew she would land on her feet if he tossed her, Darrel decided to try something different.

Darrel ran his hand along the cat’s back, which rewarded him with a purr he could feel even through his clothes. “I suppose I see the appeal,” he muttered. The cat looked at him again with those intelligent eyes, as if to say, Well, of course.

He pointed to the building, the back door specifically. “Think you can go over there?” He felt a little odd, asking a cat a question, but he’d seen and done stranger things in his career.

The cat nuzzled Darrel’s chin with the top of her head, then squirmed out of his grip and crept slowly toward the building, as if stalking prey. She stayed low to the ground as she moved, then froze. Darrel thought she was tracking something, as her head moved slowly to the side, but he didn’t see anything. Then, she darted off away from the building toward… something. But he found out what he needed. As soon as the cat darted off, floodlights illuminated the back of the building.

So, the cat knew from experience how slowly it had to move to keep the lights from coming on. That was handy. Moving that slowly and carefully was possible, and took a lot of practice, but that’s what ImpSec field agents did. They practiced. Satisfied with his reconnaissance, he turned and made his way out to the main street, where he shuffled down the sidewalk away from the starport. Infiltration would happen another night. Soon.

* * *

Samir Sayegh walked down the hallway of the building with purpose, taking long strides. With each step, his boot made a loud thud on the ground until he got to the security room. He pressed his thumb to the panel beside the door and pushed it open as soon as he heard the lock click open.

“What was it?” Samir demanded before the door had closed behind him.

Chavi jumped in her chair, startled by his sudden loud entrance. He would have to speak to her about that. A Mukhabarat agent cannot afford to be so distracted as to miss someone opening the door to a secure area. She quickly recovered and pulled the playback from the moment the lights came on up on a large monitor mounted to one wall of the small room.

“A mau, sir,” she responded, using the ancient Egyptian word for cat, which sounded like someone saying “meow.” “I believe it was stalking prey.”

“You believe? What about the infrared?” Samir asked, annoyed.

“Nothing within the scope of our cameras, sir.”

“And you didn’t think it might be a good idea to send a guard out to sweep the area, in case it was a person who spooked it?”

“I didn’t think—”

“No, you didn’t,” he snapped. “We’re running an active operation, and you’re sitting on your ass, not thinking.”

Without another word, she picked up a radio and spoke into it with a commanding voice. “Activity to the rear. Sweep the area immediately.”

Samir heard the response from one of the guards a second later. “On it.”

It was good that she hadn’t waited for him to speak again. She realized what she had done wrong and remedied it. It was probably too late, even if there had been someone out there, but it was a mistake she would likely not make again if she wanted to remain an agent. Or… alive.

He remained in the security room and watched as she scanned all eight monitors arrayed before her for activity, focusing on the ones in front and behind, where they could see the guard moving with his rifle in his hand. Good, she was watching to see if anyone was moving away from him or moving up behind him.

The guard took his time, and 15 minutes later, stood on the steps leading up to the back door and looked up into the camera. “Nothing to report. No movement, nothing on thermals. A few small animals, the usual suspects.”

“Thank you. You may return to your post,” she said into the radio, then turned to Samir to await his response.

“Good. You should have done that without my prompting.”

She nodded but didn’t look away from his face.

Samir considered her for a moment while he decided on his next course of action. She was strong and confident in her abilities. With some training, she would be a part of the future of Aswan, a rarity for a woman. Samir did not share President Isa’s view that women were no better than breeders and housekeepers, though he thought many of them had no aspirations above that, and they certainly weren’t qualified to be leaders. Even more insulting was that a woman ruled the Empire now. He knew that even Isa had females in his guard section, though they might be there for other reasons than protecting him, he admitted to himself.

“Don’t make the same mistake again,” he said, then turned and left her alone in the security room.

* * *

Samir walked to the end of the hallway and placed his palm on the panel of a stand in front of a set of steel doors. After a few seconds of scanning, the doors slid open to the elevator. He got in and keyed a sequence of numbers on a keypad, the only device in the small elevator, and it started downward.

The keypad was a precaution in case someone made their way into the building, and forced someone to use their hand to open the doors, or simply removed the hand and used it. They had tried it on an unfortunate prisoner, and it had worked, so Samir had ordered the second layer of security put in. The occupant of the elevator had two chances to enter the right code. Entering it incorrectly a third time caused alarms to sound, and the elevator would descend in freefall, then stop abruptly at the bottom. It wouldn’t kill most people, but it would likely injure them to the point of incapacitation while guards responded.

The doors opened after the elevator slid to a smooth stop, and Samir exited, nodding to the guard who was on station, facing the door with a rifle in his hands. “How is our prisoner?”

“Sleeping, sir. He hasn’t given us any trouble.”

“Of course he hasn’t,” Samir scoffed. “He’s a weak, pathetic man, and he knows it.”

The guard grinned and nodded as Samir walked past him.

He walked down the row of cells, all of them identical, until he got to the only occupied cell, and stood in front of it, watching the man sleep for a moment. The cell was plain. Steel walls, steel bars, and a metal slab that was solid top and bottom, with a thin mattress that served as a bed. There was a toilet and a sink with only cold water that served as both a wash sink and a water fountain. He could order the plumbing turned off as needed in each cell individually.

The man must have sensed Samir watching him because he turned his head, rubbed his eyes, sat up, and stared at the ground. “What now?”

“Oh, just checking in on you, Ari. I haven’t been down personally in a few days, so I wanted to ensure your stay with us was going well.”

Ari shrugged slightly, not looking up.

“Your friend is very concerned about you. He was by a few days ago, begging like a woman for your release,” Samir said and chuckled coldly.

“Will that ever happen?” Ari asked and finally looked up at Samir, though he refused to meet his eyes.

“If I wanted you dead, do you think you’d still be alive?”

“Until you got what you wanted.”

Samir couldn’t fault his logic, and Ari’s boldness in saying so impressed him. He took another step and stood directly in front of the bars of the cell. “Perverts like you make me sick. My orders prevent me from wiping you off the face of the earth. So, I will release you once I’ve accomplished my objectives.”

Ari sighed and nodded, looking back at the floor. He had none of the fight or the acidic words he’d had the first few days. He was a defeated man, waiting for the inevitable end.

“So weak,” Samir said and spat on the ground.

Samir almost felt sorry for the man. He had no idea who his captors were or what they wanted, only that he was being kept here until Samir or someone else deemed it was time to release him. But it was better that way for everyone. He was sure both Ari and Chad Lester had figured it out, but thinking and having proof, or a confession, were two different things.

He smirked and turned to leave the detainment area, satisfied everything was as it should be.

* * * * *

Chapter Twelve

Several days later, after getting all the equipment he would need for his mission, thanks to another visit to the ImpSec cache, Snake set off for the infiltration. It was one of the trickier things an agent could do, since he could not, under any circumstances, allow the bad guys to take him alive.

Darrel had checked in with the governor and his assistant a few days prior. Chad had visited the location once to deliver information on a data chip—information mostly created by Michelle, with the governor’s assistance. There was just enough truth in the data to convince the recipient that it was real.

There had been some discussion about including a tracer program on the data chip, but Michelle decided it was too risky. They were, after all, handing it over to what they assumed was the system’s intelligence agency, and while they might not be up to the Empire’s standards in technology, there was a life at stake, so it wasn’t worth the risk.

It was the middle of the night when he finally made his way into the starport district. He was once again wearing his stealth suit and using every technological edge he had to avoid detection. This time, he went armed. Darrel had a pistol in a holster on his side that was slim but held a magazine of 15 sleepy darts. He had two extra mags, along with mags of lethal rounds, if it came to that, but the sleepy darts were very effective, and he felt confident he wouldn’t need to go lethal.

In a worst-case situation, he had backup. It had taken some convincing, but Mina and Shane had finally persuaded him to let Mina take an overwatch position. So, somewhere about a kilometer away, the expert shooter was perched in a prepared sniper’s nest with her weapon ready, and Shane was right next to her with a wide-angle spotter’s scope.

Darrel subvocalized into the throat microphone he wore under his suit, so he could speak without being heard. “In position. How’s it look?”

“Got you in sight,” Shane said. “No traffic in the area. A few small animals, but nothing to be concerned about.”

“Copy,” Darrel said and moved toward the building.

Since he knew there were motion detectors, he moved so slowly, anyone watching him would have trouble perceiving his motion at all. He was prone on the ground, staying low, and using his elbows and knees to move forward. He had put on special pads for just that purpose, which provided extra grip on the ground.

When he reached the building, he went to the center of one of the sides, avoiding the front and rear. He slowly stood, using the wall to support himself. It was unlikely Aswani security would have aimed the motion sensors so close to the building, but he took no chances.

As he reached his feet, he caught motion to his left, and froze, but realized it wasn’t a cause for concern, hopefully. It was a cat, maybe the same one, as it didn’t move around him. It approached him directly and looked up at him curiously, as if to ask, Silly human, what are you doing?

Darrel couldn’t say why he did it, but he put his finger to his lips in a shhh motion, and turned to check the windows, hoping someone had been forgetful and left one unlocked. He found the first window locked, as well as the second one near the rear entrance. The third was, as well, but the fourth, when he used his gloved fingertips to push up on the window, slid up slightly. I love forgetful people, he thought as he pushed it up further, inch by inch, until it was large enough to accommodate his body. Before he could boost himself in, the cat, who had been following and watching with keen interest, jumped up to the ledge just inside the window opening. Now he was sure it was the same cat. She looked him in the eyes and gave a soft meow, before she jumped down from the window onto the desk that sat just offset from it.

Looking in, Darrel could see that the office was for a single person. No decorations, much like the one Chad had described, but this room had no display monitors on the walls. There were several cabinets along the walls, and a single workstation on the desk, with the chair positioned so the person working could turn to look outside. Though it would only allow a view of the building next to them, it would let in natural light.

The cat walked around on the desk, and Darrel had a moment of concern that the cat would decide to do what cats of legend did, and knock something off the desk. She didn’t, though. She explored the desk surface and then looked at Darrel as if to say, Okay, human. Now what?

Well, you certainly make it look easy, Darrel thought.

The cat meowed loudly and continued looking at him. At first, Darrel cursed mentally at the noise, but then he realized if the cat’s meow drew attention, the sound of him entering the room might, as well. He stood still for several moments, but when nothing happened, he boosted himself smoothly into the room and landed on his feet with cat-like efficiency. If asked, he would later swear the cat looked at him with approval, but at the moment, he had work to do.

He avoided moving the chair even an inch and reached over the back of it to tap the keyboard, and to his relief, the screen came to life. It was a login screen, asking for a password and nothing else. No logo or statement about who the system belonged to, which told him he was on the right track. It’s not like an intelligence agency would put I’m an Intelligence Access Point on the home screen.

He pulled a small metal rod, only a few inches long, from a pocket. He moved over, set one end on the floor, and leaned the other end against it on the side that would open. It wasn’t much, but even the faint tink of it hitting the floor would alert him if someone opened the door slowly to investigate. When he turned to go back to the desk, the cat was there beside him, eyeing the matte-black rod. “Don’t touch that,” he whispered, then went back to the desk.

Darrel fished a small container from a chest pocket, set it on the desk, and opened it. From within, he pulled out a tiny penlight that gave him just enough illumination to see details. He used it to look around the edges of the workstation for a data port and finally found one. It was an older configuration, so from the same pouch, he pulled a chip and an adapter, slotted them together, and then inserted the adapter into the port.

The Geek Squad in ImpSec had cooked up the chip. They said it would crack any computer system up to the quality of their own without allowing it to send out any kind of infiltration detection alerts. Darrel held his breath as nothing happened, which was what he had been told to expect. Then, after a few minutes, the login screen disappeared, and a file menu popped onto the screen. He owed Michelle a drink. Darrel had thought it would take over five minutes. She’d said less. She’d won. Darrel wouldn’t even have to worry about how to log out of or shut the system down. The chip would record anything he did and any file he opened for later review, and as soon as he pulled the chip, it would go back to wherever it had been when he’d inserted it without leaving a trace. The geeks had explained something about creating a virtual instance of the machine in a gapped environment that obfuscated the origin of any requests, but all Darrel was concerned about was that it worked, and no one would know he was there.

He had two options. He could select files individually for review or tap an overlaid icon in the bottom right that would copy as much data as the chip could hold. The file system presented seemed small, so it was possibly limited by the access level of the person who sat at this desk. He hit the Copy All icon. After five seconds, a prompt appeared.

Full Copy Possible: Confirm

He tapped the Confirm prompt and waited.

The cat jumped back onto the desk and looked at the lit screen. Darrel could see her features in the dim light of the screen, and she turned to look at him again and craned her head toward him. He grinned and reached out to scratch behind her ear and rub along her length. “Well, you’ve certainly earned a bit of attention,” he whispered.

She purred in response, and pushed herself into his hand, shifting now and then, he assumed, so he’d hit the spots she wanted him to. A countdown timer appeared on the screen after the first minute, showing that it was going to take another ten minutes to copy all the data. He frowned. That was a long time on a mission like this, but he hoped the data would be worth it.

Out of an abundance of caution, he moved to the corner of the room that would put him behind the door if it opened and knelt to wait. The cat, unsurprisingly, came over to him so he could resume paying her the attention she so obviously deserved. He stayed there, rubbing the cat while his mind went through options and possibilities. He had four other duplicate chips in his pack. With those, he could continue to other windows to get more data, or he could take what he could get easily and egress and review what he had, hoping it would be enough. The goal of this mission was twofold. First, he wanted to get confirmation that this was a sponsored intelligence operation, likely by the Mukhabarat. Second, he wanted to get the location of Ari Boulos to determine if a rescue was possible. For all he knew, he was getting data on the front business, a shipping company, and nothing at all about Ari or the intelligence agency. In his business, information ruled everything, and no matter what it was, there was likely a way he could put it to use.

Darrel’s mental clock told him the copy was almost done, so he slowly rose. As he did, he heard the light tink of the metal rod hitting the ground, and the door opened partially. Whoever opened it wasn’t being careful, so they didn’t expect trouble. That was good. He drew his pistol full of sleepy darts and aimed, ready.

Someone stuck their head in and looked around, and Darrel heard an audible sigh as the door opened further.

“Dammit, he left the window open again. Will he never learn?” the voice of what Darrel could only assume was a guard patrolling and checking all the rooms said.

Before the guard could move further into the room, the cat moved. It meowed and ran between the guard’s legs and out of the room.

“Dammit, get back here!” the guard shouted, closed the door, and ran down the hallway after it. Darrel could hear the fading thuds of heavy boots and breathed a sigh of relief.

He hastened back to the computer just in time for the Copy Complete message to appear on the screen. He pulled the data chip, and the workstation went back to the login screen. After securing the chip and remembering to pick up the small metal rod, he slipped out the window. He almost forgot and closed it, but remembered the guard had seen it open. They would assume whoever used the office had left it that way, and the cat had climbed in. Perfect, he thought. I couldn’t have planned it better.

Darrel got back to his knees and elbows, slow-crawled away from the building until he reached the spot where he’d started, then safely made his way out.

“Mission accomplished. Pack up,” he subvocalized into his throat mic.

“I saw you had company. Friend of yours?” Mina asked.

“I suppose so,” Darrel said.

“Maybe we should change your nickname to cat whisperer,” Shane said with a chuckle.

“Do it and find out what I’m truly capable of,” Darrel said.

“Just kidding. Geez. Overwatch, clear.”

He went to where he’d stashed his street clothes, changed, and walked to the governor’s compound. Even at night, there was a full complement of guards, and he passed through after a normal challenge. Darrel didn’t have them wake anyone but went straight to the secure comms room, slotted the data chip, and transmitted the whole dump to Michelle with a message to analyze and report ASAP.

* * *

Darrel stepped out of the secure room, ensuring it locked behind him, and headed toward the exit, only to find Governor Cameron waiting for him in the hallway, wearing pajamas and a robe. He hadn’t intended to report every movement to the governor and considered walking on past him. After all, Darrel didn’t report to the governor. Some could argue that the governor had a certain level of authority over Imperial citizens on Aswan, and they would be right, but Darrel wasn’t just another citizen.

“Find something out?” Gavin asked, his arms folded over his chest.

“Not sure yet. I hadn’t intended to wake anyone.”

“Oh, I know. My guards had orders to wake me if you came through during the evening. I like to know what’s happening in case questions arise.”

“Governor, it’s actually better that you don’t know if questions were to arise. The bad guys can’t take information you don’t have,” Darrel said and leaned against the wall. “I’m juggling a lot of balls on Aswan, Governor, and it’s healthier for me and those I’m working with if you don’t know what all of them are.”

“So, you’re saying it’s need to know, and I don’t need to know?” Gavin asked, an eyebrow raised.

Darrel nodded. “Exactly.”

Gavin looked at the ground for a moment, then back up at Darrel. “Very well. I can accept that and even understand it. But I’m asking, do you have anything new on Ari Boulos?”

“Let’s speak in private,” Darrel said and gestured toward Gavin’s office.

He nodded and led the way to his office. “Should I wake the gunny? Or Chad?”

“No. Nothing actionable.”

They entered Gavin’s office, and he turned and leaned back on the edge of his desk. “So, what do you have?”

Darrel considered exactly what to say for a moment, then answered. “As I said before, I’m not sure yet. I was able to infiltrate the building Chad went to. Only one office,” he added with a raised hand when he saw excitement in Gavin’s eyes. “I got into one of their workstations and downloaded all the data I could reach. I haven’t had a chance to review it yet, myself, and I’ve sent it to an analyst to review. Once they compile and analyze the data, I’ll know what I have. For all I know, I got the local take-out menu and laundry orders.”

He was intentionally vague about who he had sent it to, and even where they were, but he was honest about the fact that he had no idea what information he’d retrieved. Though he was sure it was more than the menu and laundry, he didn’t want to get Gavin’s hopes up.

“I see,” was all the governor had to say.

“Work like this isn’t fast or easy, Governor. Now, if you don’t mind, I need to get back to the resort and spend some time there before too many questions get asked.”

“I don’t know how you manage it,” Gavin said and shook his head.

“Training, Governor. Lots and lots of training,” Darrel said, and turned to leave.

“Will you let me know what you find out?” he asked just before Darrel left the room.

“If you need to know.”

* * *

Michelle groaned and slapped the tablet on her nightstand when it went off with a priority alert. She took a few seconds to stretch and rub the sleep from her eyes, then picked it up.

Priority Transmission—Decrypt And Analyze Asap

“Shit.” She hopped up, got herself cleaned up and into a uniform, and was in her office five minutes later. As an analyst, work didn’t often awaken her at odd hours, but she knew it could happen, and if it did, lives might be on the line.

She walked quickly to her office, offering only a quick wave to the team in the outer room who worked in shifts, day and night, monitoring communications traffic across the planet.

“Something up?” one of them asked.

“Intel from Darrel. No disturbances unless it’s mission critical,” she said without breaking stride.

“Computer, begin decryption,” she said as she sat down. The voice command woke the system up, and a message on the screen displayed: Decryption In Process.

She drummed her fingers on the desk while she waited, and as soon as the file structure displayed, she sent different folders to different windows and started visually scanning. First, she would look for folder or files names that stood out as particularly interesting and then dive in deeper from there.

A quick scan told her this was mostly shipping and receiving, and she sighed. It looked like Darrel had managed to get into a system, but it was one of the systems for the front business. Still, she couldn’t be sure until she went through it all. It was completely possible, even probable, for an intelligence operation to name things like this to throw off analysts who didn’t want to put in the time. Unfortunately for them, she wasn’t that.

With nothing standing out as being related to intelligence gathering, kidnapping, or hostage locations, she parsed everything out into a sorted list, opened the files one by one starting with the most recent, and read.

* * *

Several hours and at least one pot of coffee later, she stood, stretched, and paced the room, thinking. There was a lot of data about import and export activity, but it appeared to be just boring transits. Too boring, to her mind. There had to be something more there, and it was her job to find it. She did a few more laps around the small office, stretched again, and sat back down.

“Okay, Michelle… what are you missing?”

She scrolled through the files again and opened a file with a long, seemingly random alphanumeric sequence that didn’t mean anything, then she smiled as she studied its contents. It was a random sequence, after all. Something a person would do to name a junk or scratch file. Just hit the keyboard a few times and save. Michelle was quite certain that whoever had created this file would be in hot water—or sand, in the case of an Aswani—if management found out about this file, which was why someone had tucked it away deep in several subdirectories with a random name. It was time to get Snake involved.

* * * * *

Chapter Thirteen

Darrel snapped awake when his special comm chimed. The only people who had the address of that one were Michelle, Shane, and Mina. Not even the governor had that one. Something was up.

First, he noted the time. He’d gotten about four hours of sleep, so that was something. Then he read the message. “Always on the ball, Michelle,” he said to himself and got up. She hadn’t marked the message urgent, so he took the time to shower and put on fresh clothes before he summoned an aircar through the resort’s concierge to take him into town.

Word had gotten around the resort that he was doing business with the governor. A carefully planted seed that Rehema helped validate and reinforce by “leaking” that information to other employees. So, it was not a shock when he requested a car to take him directly there.

It was a quick ride, since the early hour meant no traffic. He passed through security and walked inside. Seeing Chad was already at his desk, Darrel sighed mentally and walked over to him. Chad was already looking up at him hopefully.

“Sorry, nothing to report yet. My analyst is still reviewing the data, but we’re not done yet. Trust me on that.”

Chad nodded, the disappointment obvious on his face. “I understand. I know that’s not why you’re here.”

The young man said the words, but the dejection in his voice was obvious. “Chad. Do I look like a man who gives up once he decides to do something?” Darrel asked.

“No, I suppose not,” he whispered.

“I beg your pardon, I couldn’t hear you.”

“I said, no, I suppose not.”

“You suppose not…” Darrel nodded. “I’ll be straight with you. You’re right, saving your boyfriend isn’t my primary mission, and if I have to put that aside to focus on the primary mission, I will.”

Darrel saw Chad’s face fall and his eyes drop to the desk.

“But I’m not alone on the planet. I have resources and people I can count on. Even if I have to direct my attention elsewhere, I will not let this go. Do you understand me?”

He looked up with somewhat renewed hope. “You mean it?”

“Calling me a liar, boy?”

“No, sir,” he said instantly and shook his head so quickly that his perfectly coifed hair flew out of place.

“Good. Now, go fix your hair and try to relax. Just do your job,” Darrel said and started to walk away. Then he paused. “And no need to bother the governor that I’m here. I need to use the comm room, then be on my way. Lots of things to do and people to see,” he said and walked off before Chad could respond.

A moment later, he entered the secure communications room, sat down, and opened a direct channel to Michelle, who answered immediately.

“Took you long enough,” she said, a cup of coffee in her hand when the image came alive on his screen.

Darrel smirked, then shook his head. “Well, you woke me up. I hope it’s worth it.”

“Seems only fair, since you woke me up first.”

“Touché.”

“At first, I thought you’d struck out. Lists of imports and exports, nothing fantastic, but then I found a junk file.”

“A what?”

“Well, not really a junk file, but think of it as a scribble pad where you jot down ideas that might eventually be useful. Or a reference to something so you won’t forget.”

“Okay, got it. So what was so impressive about this junk file?”

“That it wasn’t a junk file,” she said and grinned into the camera with a gleam in her eye.

“Are you really going to make me ask?” Darrel asked.

“I wouldn’t think of it.”

“I think you did, so what’s in the file?”

“Something that would probably get whoever created it shot. Apparently, someone has a faulty memory and couldn’t remember what they were calling things in their official—” she added air quotes “—logs.”

“So you’re saying the logs are correct, but they’re calling a bullet a nail, or something like that?”

“Exactly! They’re using code phrases, because this clearly isn’t a legal import and export business. Things like this,” she said, and the image of what looked like a standard cargo manifest replaced her.

“Tell me what I’m looking at, Michelle.”

“See where it says they imported two crates of steel pipes?”

“Yes…”

“Now look at this,” she said, and a new document showed up beside it. This must be the junk file she referred to, he thought, and Darrel’s eyes narrowed.

48 Steel Pipe = 12 Pulse Rifles M239

“Is that model what I think it is?”

“Probably. They’re not supposed to have it, I’ll tell you that much, and that’s verified.”

Darrel leaned back in his chair and blew out a long breath between pursed lips.

The documents disappeared from the screen, and Michelle’s face reappeared. “It’s not what you were after, but it’s damning, nonetheless.”

“Yes, it is. Now I have to decide what to do with it.”

“There’s more. I’ve also got pretty solid evidence Isa is backing pirates.”

“Well, we pretty much already knew that, didn’t we?”

“Well, yes and no. We had suspicions, but nothing concrete to give to the Navy. Now, we do. But do you want the Navy screwing things up here by launching an investigation?”

“No,” he answered immediately. “That’s out of the question. Get the Navy involved, and we might as well tell the resistance to hang it up, because Aswan might not even be a member of the Empire anymore. The Navy would investigate, find the proof, send it to the empress, and she’d do what she does. Rip the splinter out along with the flesh around it.”

“Is she really like that? She seems pretty mild.”

“I will only say I’ve heard stories about our empress’ temper, and this kind of thing would really chap her ass.”

“Should you be talking about Empress Elizabeth’s ass?”

“You going to tell her?”

Michelle shrugged, and Darrel grinned. This kind of banter was what made working in a stressful job like intelligence tolerable. Otherwise, they’d probably go insane or feral. Both of which had happened in the past.

“Okay. Get this all decoded into plain text for me so we know what they’re bringing in.”

“Can do.”

“Wait… you mentioned exports. What are they sending out?”

“As far as I can tell? Nothing, unless they’re exporting sand by the barrel. They listed the exports in weight denominations, so I’d assume those are monetary payments of some sort.”

“Okay, dig into it. See if we can figure out who these pirates are, and more importantly, where they’re hijacking their product from. Seems like this would be news for us if volumes like this were missing.”

“Unless the Marines aren’t saying anything because it would give their security a black eye.”

“Michelle Montane, I cannot believe you would suggest a chair-warmer somewhere in a back office would cover themselves by not reporting such losses.”

Michelle grinned at the jibe, then got serious and looked into the pickup. Darrel felt like she was looking right into his eyes. “Darrel. What if they’re not being stolen…”

Darrel frowned. The thought had already occurred to him, but there would have to be too many people involved to keep selling this kind of weaponry secret. “I’ll call you and raise you this. What if it’s someone in our own house?”

Michelle’s face was serious as she nodded. “I’m on it.”

“I know you are, Michelle. Get some rest and keep this eyes only. Trusted team members, if you have any here, but I don’t want any leaks.”

“Just me. I’ll be in touch,” she said and terminated the connection.

* * *

Michelle got back to work and had a sudden flash of inspiration. She pulled up the master list of communication intercepts and ran some searches. It didn’t take long for her to find what she was looking for. There were secure communications Imperial Security agents on the station had intercepted and decrypted. HQ hadn’t ordered them to spy on the secured comms of a member of the Empire. Then again, they’d also never been told not to. After a few moments, she found what she was looking for and read the transcripts.

In fact, she spent the next several hours reading and making notes about what she was seeing and which ships were involved. Every time there was a mention of sand or pipes, she noted it and analyzed it, sometimes even listening to the captured conversation. Often, it was nothing. Something about mechanical issues caused by a sandstorm, or a pipe needing to be welded. But there were also conversations now and then, speaking about a crate of pipes to be delivered. Those were the ones she was after, and the ones she paid the most attention to.

As she looked at the list, she realized it would take her days to do this herself. She stood, stretched, and walked around the room while she considered. They weren’t on much of a time crunch, since the comm network she was deploying wasn’t even complete yet, but this was information that might have larger implications if there was a weapon smuggling operation happening. Or maybe it was both smuggling and theft. She sighed, frustrated at not having the answers. That was what made her a good analyst. She wouldn’t stop until she had the answers.

Her internal debate now was whether to bring in assistance or handle it solo. Even if she had someone rule out the inconsequential transmissions that obviously were about pipes or sand, that would help. Any agent she pulled in wouldn’t ask questions, but they understood why Snake was on the planet, and they knew she was doing work for him. Imperial Security didn’t hire stupid people, and they could add two and two. They might not come to the right conclusion—or the same conclusion, assuming they were right—but they’d certainly conclude something was up, and she couldn’t chance the word getting out that they were looking at this.

With a decision made, Michelle locked her computers and stepped out to get some food. She’d need to fuel up, because it was going to be a long day.

* * *

Darrel walked down the street after leaving the property, thinking. He was aware of his surroundings, but thoughts of what to do with whatever information Michelle was able to dig out of what he’d retrieved occupied his mind. He decided there was only one thing to do. Go back for more information. Even if he didn’t get details on the kidnapped restaurant server, he might get details on what else was going on, because the warehouse was definitely a black ops cell.

Darrel pondered how quickly priorities could change. He’d gone in there with the intention of rescuing an Imperial citizen’s boyfriend, but now the scope of the larger mission had swallowed that up, and whether he rescued the man or not was secondary, or an even lower priority. It was, unfortunately, a decision that had to be made concerning anyone who was in such a position. From a division commander deciding to sacrifice one ship to let others escape, to a Marine who left a man behind to save the rest of his squad. They were hard decisions, haunting for some, but they had to be made. In this case, while he would still try to execute a rescue, if there was any chance it would risk the larger mission, he’d have to let it go.

Of course, getting into the building would be more challenging this time. After a security breach, everyone would be on their toes. Security would check every door and window at the end of the day, and probably on a rotation by patrols through the night. Still, he needed to get in, and it had to be soon. His timetable had been accelerated by what he’d found, and the time for action was closer than he wanted it to be.

Darrel adjusted his path and soon found himself at the clothing shop he’d used to escape pursuit the first time agents had chased him in the city. It was closed up tight, so he walked around to the back door and flipped up a panel to enter a master entry code that unlocked it. He drew his weapon out from under his jacket and slowly made his way inside.

After methodically clearing the building, he concluded that the owner and his wife had left, which was good. That was what they were supposed to do. The Empire would compensate them handsomely for their assistance. The couple might be elsewhere on this world, or more likely in a completely different system by now.

Satisfied that he was alone, he climbed upstairs to the apartment over the shop where they lived, and started tapping on the walls, looking for what should be there. Finally, he heard the solid response he’d been waiting for. He pulled a knife from his belt and cut the surface of the wall away to reveal a steel box with a thumbprint scanner and a keypad. He applied his thumb and entered the appropriate code to open the box. As he hit the last number, he stepped slightly to the side, put the edge of his coat over his mouth and nose, and looked away. As soon as the spring-loaded door swung open, a puff of thick yellow gas shot out of the case, accompanied by a flash so bright it would have blinded anyone looking at it for at least ten minutes. It was the same primary used in a flashbang grenade. He waved his free hand to dissipate the gas, and once it had thinned, he lowered his coat again.

The gas wasn’t deadly, but it would knock out anyone who got a good dose for several hours. Field agents had been tolerance-trained on it, so a small dose would simply make them a bit woozy for a few minutes. Even a full dose probably wouldn’t knock Darrel out, but this wasn’t training, and he wasn’t taking any chances. It was a simple but effective trap no one could disarm. One could only trigger it. Of course, ImpSec thought of everything. For example, detaching the case from its anchors would have ignited the thermite inside, turning everything into slag. There were no chances taken that anyone except an ImpSec agent could access the box’s contents. If the primary trigger for the thermite failed, a secondary trigger would go off that was more… destructive. In fact, that one would set off implosion charges to level the building and kill anyone close to it before they knew what had happened.

All that security was for a small hand-held device. He removed it from the case and walked over to sit on the edge of the bed in the studio apartment. After powering it up, he applied his thumbprint to activate it, ran a diagnostic to make sure it had full power and was ready to be used, and tucked it into a pocket. This was one of those “last resort” items Imperial Security planted in the field as a contingency. It was also an item that was part of a normal field agent’s kit, and many agents didn’t understand why drops like this existed. But Darrel did. This was the second time he’d had to root one out when time unexpectedly had become of the essence.

He’d need to be at his best for the next stage of what he had planned, so he lay down on the bed to take a nap and get himself prepared after he typed out a coded message for Michelle and sent it.

* * *

Darrel’s internal clock woke him as the sun dropped below the horizon, and the long shadows turned to darkness. He got up, made his way out of the building, and slid into the flow of evening foot traffic toward the spaceport district. It was a long walk, but it would do him good to get his blood flowing after sleeping before he went into action.

A few blocks away from the target building, Shane emerged from the thinning crowd and slid in to walk beside him. “Fancy meeting you here,” Shane said with a grin.

Darrel grunted. “She ready?”

“Oh, yes. She’s in place and itching to do what she does.”

“Let’s hope that won’t be necessary,” Darrel said and cast a sideways glance at Shane.

“I know, I know. So, no stealth gear for you?” Shane asked.

“It’s back at the resort, locked up, and no time to get it. I’ll go in plain. Won’t be the first time. We haven’t always had those fancy suits, you know.”

“And I bet you walked to all your missions uphill both ways, too.”

“In the snow,” Darrel added. “Go suit up and meet me at mark Alpha.”

Shane nodded and peeled off, leaving Darrel to walk the rest of the way alone. He wouldn’t have the stealth suit this time, but he wasn’t worried about it. This time, they would know someone had been there. No way to avoid it. The trick would be to keep them from knowing who, and not wearing advanced stealth tech would help throw them off the scent of it being Imperial Security. Because what fool wouldn’t use all the tech they could bring to bear?

As foot traffic thinned even further to only a few people in sight, Darrel headed off the main path between two buildings. If anyone noticed, they probably figured he needed to take a leak and was taking advantage of the privacy and shadows of the space between two buildings. And if someone did approach him, he had no qualms about relieving himself to sell the story.

Shane joined him a few moments later, now concealed in his stealth suit. “What’s the plan?”

Darrel watched the building as he considered. There were multiple approaches he could take, from bold and loud to as quiet as possible. Suddenly, all his plans were for naught when he saw Chad Lester walking up the sidewalk.

“What the hell is he doing here?” Darrel muttered.

“Who’s he?”

Darrel waved a hand. “Governor’s assistant. It’s his boyfriend who got taken. They must have called him for an intel report on the spur of the moment. And you know what? We can make it work in our favor.”

“Okay. How?”

“Here’s what we’re going to do,” Darrel began and spoke quickly to explain the plan as it formed in his mind.

* * * * *

Chapter Fourteen

Chad Lester finished his workday and took a walk. He didn’t go to Amenset anymore. He chose to eat in the cafeteria. Sometimes, Sergeant O’Kieran joined him and tried to cheer him up, but it was often a wasted effort. She and Gunnery Sergeant Hunt had taken him under their wings, and they spent every other evening training him. He was working on getting into better physical shape. He was healthy, but he was learning to defend himself. Some basic judo moves, weightlifting, and whatever else they thought of. They’d promised to keep training him as long as he wanted. He’d even become welcome in Marine Country, which was the basement level of the building. Everyone knew what had happened, and it seemed like they all took it personally.

As he walked along, he thought about the previous night’s training, when they had shown him how to escape holds a kidnapper might use on him. Once he learned them, they seemed so easy, but the trick, they had said, was doing it often enough that it became reflex, because in a situation like that, you didn’t have time to think. It had to be muscle memory. He was so deep in thought, he didn’t notice that someone had moved up beside him.

The man leaned over to whisper in his ear, “Go to the spaceport district. You know where to go. Now.”

Before Chad could say anything, the man turned around and walked the other way, but he felt like he was being watched, so he didn’t dare do anything but what he’d been told to do. He admonished himself for being caught off guard because one of the other lessons the Marines had taught him was to always be aware of his surroundings. He’d let himself get caught woolgathering, and he now understood that was a mistake that could get a person kidnapped or worse.

Since he hadn’t expected to be going there, he was still wearing his panic button, and he considered hitting it. Then, Ari’s face appeared in his mind’s eye, and his hand fell away. No, he’d manage. Like Gunnery Sergeant Hunt had said, if they’d wanted him dead or captured, that would have already happened. He made his way to the office building, trying to figure out the sudden request. They hadn’t asked him to bring anything, and this had never happened before. His mind started going into dark corners he would have been better to avoid, but he remained attentive to his surroundings. He used windows in buildings to catch glimpses of who was around and behind him, and he was certain he was being followed.

A short time later, he made the last turn and walked toward the building. He flexed his fingers and thought through all the escape maneuvers Gunny had taught him in case someone decided it was time to take him.

As he approached the door, as every time before, it opened, and the same man stood there, waiting, and motioned for him to come in. But this time was different. Chad was about to step inside when two darts appeared in the man’s chest, and the man’s eyes went wide before he fell to the ground in a heap.

* * *

Darrel watched from across the street while Shane moved into position. The lights on the front of the building were on, and foot traffic was light, but present, so he wasn’t worried about tripping any motion sensors. They had mere minutes to put the plan into action, so they were a bit more reckless than he would have preferred, but you didn’t give up an opportunity like this when it presented itself.

He watched Chad approach, and the door opened, silhouetting a man with the bright hallway lights behind him. Darrel recognized him by Chad’s description and grinned. Gotcha, he thought as he put two sleepy darts into the man’s chest.

No sooner had the man hit the ground than Shane moved from the shadow at the corner of the building and slid by Chad to drag the man inside while pulling his own pistol and covering the hallway.

“Be quiet and follow us,” Darrel said as he ushered Chad inside and let the door swing closed behind them. He forced Chad down to his knees, and knelt down as well, one knee on the unconscious body, and covered the intersection with his pistol while Shane kept watch on all the other doors. They waited there for several minutes for a response in case internal security cameras had captured their breach, but nothing happened.

“Sloppy.” Shane sighed.

Darrel nodded in agreement and turned to face a shivering Chad.

“That was… fast,” Chad said.

“Shh. Is this the man you’ve dealt with before?” Darrel asked.

“Yes. The only one I’ve seen,”

“You always meet in the same room, yes?”

Chad nodded.

“Show us, slowly and carefully. You point, I’ll go, and Shane will bring up the rear.”

“What about sleeping ugly?” Shane asked.

“Carry him.”

“Cover me,” Shane said, and shifted position to allow Darrel and Chad to come to a crouch and move forward enough for him to leverage the unconscious body onto his shoulders in a fireman’s carry, leaving his right hand free to hold his pistol. He gave Darrel a nod.

“Okay, Chad. Left at this corridor, correct?”

Chad nodded in agreement.

Darrel crept forward, watching the doors around them as they approached the intersection. He knew there was at least one roving patrol, but he wasn’t sure what time they started. It was best to assume they were there all day and night and be pleasantly surprised at not making contact. If possible, he would avoid them, since if their security was any kind of decent, part of his routine would be to report in at regular intervals, and a missed report would raise an alarm. Of course, they were already on a timer, having taken out sleeping ugly. He was the kind of man who reported to someone, and the unplanned visit from Chad meant something was brewing.

They reached the intersection, and he reached his hand back without looking. “Mirror,” he whispered.

He heard the soft sound of Shane’s gun going into its holster, and a few moments later, pulling it back out, then Chad put the metal rod in his palm. He closed his hand around it and brought it forward, using his one hand to adjust the mirror at the end of the rod using his peripheral vision, never losing focus on his surroundings.

Down on one knee, he held the mirror a few inches above the floor and used it to look into the next hallway. Doing it at floor level was safer, as a guard on patrol would rarely look for anything on the ground. They’d be looking at chest level for any threat and would alert on any other rapid movement or irregularity. No one would notice something so small near the floor unless Darrel made a mistake and allowed the mirror to reflect the light.

Seeing nothing, he nodded in satisfaction, collapsed the telescoping pole, and tucked the mirror into a pocket. He leaned back and whispered, “How many doors?”

“The sixth one,” Chad said.

Darrel nodded and rounded the corner, staying low as he moved up the corridor. He hated buildings like this. Long, empty corridors with a lot of doors. Any of them could hold an unwelcome surprise. He kept his gun at low ready and maintained a steady pace while making as little noise as possible. Some junior agents would make a traversal like this with their weapon aimed down the hallway, but that was a mistake. It took longer to re-aim and refocus from that position than it did to extend to a direct aim from a low ready position. That was the type of mistake trained agents didn’t make. Infiltration was a part of the job for field agents, and dead agents didn’t accomplish the mission.

He also kept Shane in mind with his speed. Shane would be walking backward, covering their rear, and doing so carrying a limp body, which would slow him down.

* * *

Chad tried to keep himself calm. One moment, he was walking up to… he did not know what. The next moment, the man he was supposed to meet was on the ground, dead or unconscious, he wasn’t sure. Then there were two men, one in a black suit that seemed to absorb light, and the other came running across the road. Darren!

He shrank back against the wall, after Darren ushered him in and down, and tried to stop shivering. He answered Darren’s questions while he did the breathing exercises the gunny had taught him to bring his heart rate down. After what seemed like an eternity, but was only a minute or so, they got moving. Chad felt helpless, sandwiched between two men with guns, but he also felt safe. He somehow knew Darren was someone who could handle it, but he didn’t know the man in the black bodysuit. Darren trusted him, so that would have to be enough.

They got to the corner, and he relayed the mirror on the pole to Shane—he’d found out that was his name when Darren had said it—and handed it forward. Darren took his time, and then they were on the move again. Faster.

Two doors to go, Chad thought as they moved down the corridor. And that’s when everything changed.

Chad could never say what caught his attention, but he turned to look and saw someone coming out of a door down the corridor behind them. Shane aimed and fired, and the darts hit the woman’s chest, but she kept coming. Body armor, Chad thought.

The woman charged forward, pulled a short baton from a pouch, and whipped her wrist to extend it. She either didn’t have a gun or felt confident she didn’t need it, but Chad didn’t care.

Shane dropped the body and aimed with both hands. He kept pulling the trigger and hitting the mark, but none of them got through or around her armor. A forest of darts littered the woman’s chest, then the gun clicked empty.

She closed the range and used the baton to smack the gun out of Shane’s hand. Somehow, he didn’t scream out, though it must have been painful. By now, Darren was turning around, but Chad found himself between the baton-wielding woman and Darren. She grinned and shouldered Shane, who was stunned from the blow to his hand, aside. Once past Shane, she grabbed Chad, brought the baton up, and held it across his neck. She used him as a shield as she backed away.

“You stay right there and don’t move. Shoot, and your little friend here takes the heat. Get me?”

“You say that like it would be a loss for me,” Darren said and shrugged, but his hands were as steady as could be. Chad would swear Darren was aiming the gun at his forehead. “You can have him for all I care.”

The woman stopped, caught off guard by Darren’s casual response, and then what little training Chad had kicked in. He reached up and wrapped a hand around the baton on either side of his neck, pushed with all the strength he had to separate the baton from his skin, and kicked his legs out from under him. Chad fell straight down, which caused her to fall forward, as she had his full body weight pulling her down without warning. She wasn’t ready for his move, and Chad was able to push the baton further away from his neck and roll out from under her before she fell on him.

He used his legs to backpedal until he hit the wall and saw three darts sticking out of the back of the woman’s neck.

“That’ll do. I’m impressed, Chad. Not many civilians would do that,” Darren said, speaking in a normal voice.

“Yeah, good job, kid,” Shane said. He flexed his fingers then picked up his pistol and checked it.

“You good?” Darren asked, looking at Shane.

“Yeah, didn’t expect her to be that good an aim with the stick.”

“Looks like you’ve got more training to do. I thought you were the hand-to-hand expert.”

Shane smirked. “Well, I don’t usually train with a body over my shoulders.”

“Time to start, then,” Darren said, then turned his attention to Chad. “Chad, can you drag her along? I don’t want to leave the body in the hall.”

“I’ll try,” he said, and grabbed her wrist to drag her along, following Darren and Shane into their destination room. When the door closed behind them, Chad let himself sink to the floor in a corner and bury his head in his hands.

Shane kneeled beside him and put a hand on his shoulder. “You did good. I would have taken care of her, but you kept yourself from getting dead, and gave Snake the shot.”

Then Chad remembered what Darren had said. “Did you mean that?” He asked Darren and looked up. “That you didn’t care?”

Shane answered for him. “Of course he didn’t. He would have said the same thing if it were me, and I know he would die of sadness if he lost me.”

Darren grunted, but Chad wasn’t sure whether it was in amusement or agreement.

“Anyway,” Shane continued, “if a hostage taker thinks you don’t care, they lose their leverage, and that gives you a few seconds while they process it and decide what to do next.”

Darren, occupied at the terminal on the desk, didn’t look up as he spoke. “I was about to put a dart into her eye, but you saved her life by taking her down instead.”

“What will you do with them?” Chad asked, looking at the two unconscious bodies on the ground.

Shane shrugged. “That’s up to Snake. He’s the boss.” Then he pressed something against his throat, and Chad saw his neck moving as if he were talking but heard nothing. Shane grinned and looked at Chad. “Throat mic. I was letting our guardian angel know we made it in and aren’t dead.”

Chad was confused but decided now wasn’t the time for more questions. He sat without making a sound and waited.

* * *

Darrel thought this might be the second infiltration to go off without a hitch in this building and then cursed himself for tempting the Deities when he detected movement behind them. As it does in situations like this, things unfolded in what felt like slow motion. Less than thirty seconds later, it was over, and the guard was on the ground asleep. Though at least one of the darts might have hit her spine, so the odds were 50/50 that she would wake up at all, but Darrel didn’t care.

He led them into the target room and sealed the door behind them. Without a thought for anything else, he left Shane to get young Chad sorted out and moved to the terminal, once again inserting one of their all-purpose decryption chips. He listened to the conversation between Shane and Chad and grunted in amusement at Shane’s example, because Shane knew the truth. If he had to, he’d let Shane go to accomplish the mission. He wouldn’t feel good about it, and it would haunt his dreams, but a single man or woman wasn’t worth the whole of the Empire—except perhaps the empress, or Prince Edward, though from what he’d learned, Edward wasn’t worth the life support to keep him alive. Not that he’d ever bothered to leave the comfort of the palace to put his life at risk.

Darrel didn’t suffer from delusions of grandeur. He knew that even if this building blew up right now, and he and Shane died, someone would take over. Michelle would get the information back to the shop, and HQ would send someone else, or they’d consult with the Imperial Council. He was a cog in the machine, but Darrel intended to be one of the cogs that never failed and always did what it needed to do to keep the Empire running.

Darrel shrugged off the distracted thoughts and watched the screen. It took longer this time, which meant the security was tighter, but he wasn’t concerned. He looked up to survey the room while he waited. Chad was still sitting on the ground, but he no longer looked like he was about to have a panic attack.

Shane had moved the bodies in front of the door to block it, which caused Darrel to shake his head. That was one way to secure the room, and it would be effective.

“What?” Shane asked. “They’re not good for much else.”

“Check her vitals. I think I might have hit her spine.”

Shane winced and removed a glove, placing his fingers on her neck to check her pulse.

“What does that mean? What are those things, anyway?” Chad asked.

“They have a technical name, but we call them sleepy darts. Pretty self-explanatory. Technically, it’s only supposed to take one to knock someone out, but I never take chances. I always shoot two. She… well, she pissed me off, so she got three. I didn’t intend to hit her spine, but those are the breaks.”

“Is that bad?”

Darrel shrugged. “Depends on your point of view. For me? I don’t care. She’s the enemy, Chad. She would have killed you and then sat down to dinner, and you’d never even be a blip on her radar, because she’s got a lot to prove in this system if she wants to stay in uniform. For her, it could be terrible. Sleepy juice delivered to the spine… Well, let’s say there’s a possibility she’ll never wake up.”

“Still alive, regular heartbeat,” Shane said and stood.

Darrel nodded and turned his attention back to the screen as it came to life with a variety of options. “Well, what do we have here?”

He tapped an icon on the screen, and the monitors on the wall came to life, showing a man in a cell, sleeping.

“That’s Ari!” Chad said and leapt to his feet. “Can you tell where he is? Can we rescue him?”

“Calm down, lad,” Shane said. “Let the man work.”

Darrel scrolled through the camera feeds, and it shifted to various cameras showing the interior and exterior of the building. He concluded they were of this building since they were all on the same circuit. One of the feeds showed the interior of an empty elevator, and his eyebrows rose. “Sneaky bastards,” he murmured.

“What? Did you find him?” Chad asked and turned to stare at Darrel.

“Unless I miss my guess, and I rarely do, there’s an elevator somewhere in this building that goes underground, and that’s where he is. But there’s at least one guard,” he said, and pulled up the long view of the corridor that looked like a cell block, with a guard walking up and down the hallway carrying a rifle.

“He doesn’t look friendly at all,” Shane observed.

“It’s not him I’m worried about.”

“What, then?” Shane asked and leaned against the wall.

“I’m worried about what the cameras don’t show. I’d expect there to be an image of the entrance and exit to the elevator. There aren’t any.”

“So?” Chad asked.

“So, that means someone concealed the entrance, and they’re confident enough in the security that they don’t care until someone is inside. Then they’re on camera, and I’d wager someone can lock it through this system. Once there’s a full squad of armed people with bad attitudes waiting, they open it.”

“Oh…”

“Shane, get him out of here. Leave this to me.”

“But—”

Darrel had expected resistance and held up a hand. “I’m better off if I don’t have to worry about covering someone else, especially a civilian. We can’t leave him here. That escape move was good, but I doubt he could handle someone who’s willing to shoot first and never ask questions, which is what would happen if someone found him in here with two bodies.”

Shane nodded, though his expression made it clear he wasn’t happy about leaving Darrel solo. “I can see that. Okay, lad. Let’s be on our way.”

“But… I can’t leave when Ari is so close!”

Darrel had expected that, too, and drew his pistol and aimed it at Chad. “You can walk out, or Shane can carry you out. I don’t have time to argue. I don’t know where that other guard came from, but eventually someone’s going to notice she’s missing. It would be best for all of us if none of us were here when that happens, and the longer we talk, the less time I have to rescue Ari, because if we miss this chance, he’ll be dead.”

Chad backpedaled and raised his hands as Darrel spoke until he backed against the wall. “Okay, okay.”

Darrel nodded at Shane. “Go. Get him to the governor’s office and wait for me there. If I’m not there in an hour, send the word up. She’ll know what to do.”

Shane nodded, pulled the two unconscious bodies out of the way, then peeked out the door. “Okay, lad, let’s go. Low and fast, don’t stop for anything.”

Chad nodded and took a deep breath. As soon as he was behind Shane, they both left the office.

Darrel watched them on the camera feeds until he saw them exit on the external view. Once he felt comfortable that they were out of sight and had escaped detection, he pulled the chip that had been downloading data the whole time. “Damn. Should have sent this with him. Oh, well. I guess I can’t get caught.”

* * * * *

Chapter Fifteen

Darrel stood at the desk and debated before going to locate the elevator. He looked at the pistol in his hand and frowned. The guard he’d seen on the camera feed was wearing body armor. He would have to aim for arms, legs, or head to use sleepy darts, which was ludicrous. There were two possibilities when the elevator doors opened. Some cover on the other side as a prepared defensive position, or a wide-open entrance area to allow maximum eyeball surveillance from any angle. If it were the latter, he’d be fine. The former would present problems because the only visible target would be the armored torso of the guard. Of course, these conclusions assumed the guard was alone.

“Too many unknowns. This is stupid, Darrel,” he muttered, but he would do it anyway.

He changed out the magazine in his pistol for a full mag of sleepy darts. He’d have to change out part of the mechanism for it to fire lethal rounds. The change could be done under fire, if it became necessary. Darrel, and he was sure many other agents, had been asking for something to accommodate both with a flick of a switch and a dual-load magazine, but so far, R&D hadn’t made it happen. There were rumors of a rifle being tested for the Marines with that capability—at least without having to change out the firing mechanism—but nothing for a pistol yet, and he didn’t trust stun pistols.

Before he stepped out, he looked at the two bodies, and an idea struck. He kneeled and undressed the man and removed the woman’s body armor. “Sorry, you don’t need these right now.”

After emptying his pockets, he changed clothes and set himself up again so everything was where he was used to reaching for it. Then he added the guard’s belt, complete with the baton, collapsed and in its pouch. Lastly, he adjusted the cover and put it on his head. The hat would hide the fact that his hair and skin color were different for long enough, he hoped. Feeling better about his chances, he stepped out of the office and walked along the corridor as if he knew where he was going. He felt sure the elevator had to be at the end of one of the hallways, but which one? When he spotted it, he grinned. There at the end of the same corridor was a stand of a type he recognized. The biometric podium would have put most people off, but that was why ImpSec had the best toys.

He pulled the device he’d retrieved from the clothing shop out, placed it on the scanner, and activated it. While it worked, he turned back to face the hallway and crossed his arms over his chest. Anyone who glanced that way would believe he belonged there. Of course, his pistol was in his hand, hidden by his arm and shoulder, in case someone didn’t buy it.

Darrel had once tried to understand how the box worked. It didn’t replicate the biometrics, it did more than that. The device was able to tap into whatever electronic signals were being sent and send the right ones to do what he wanted. It had two modes. Turn something on, or turn something off. A positive signal, or a negative signal. Once it got more into the electronics and signal manipulation, he gave up trying to understand the engineering. All he needed to know was that it had never failed him, and it wasn’t something that he would allow to fall into the wrong hands. He wasn’t sure if Imperial Security was even supposed to have developed the technology, but the results were inarguable. The rumors were that even the best Imperial technology couldn’t stop it. And that was dangerous.

Before his mind traveled too far along that dark path, he heard a soft chime and the elevator doors slid open. He dropped his arms, grabbed the device, and moved into the elevator, only to be confronted by more security. “Not very trusting, are you?”

Of course, that made it easier rather than more difficult. Darrel didn’t want to consider what would happen if he entered the wrong code, so he set the box for a green signal again and attached it to the wall of the elevator beside the keypad. The assumption was that anything they’d need to use the device on would be metal, or at least smooth. In this case, magnets let him leave it in place, keeping his hands free for more important things, like staying alive. If it weren’t metal, built-in suction would adhere it to any flat surface.

The doors slid closed after a few seconds, but the elevator didn’t move. He didn’t worry, as every elevator did that, especially secure ones. He waited and hoped the box would work again. “Trust the tools,” he muttered, keeping his body between the camera and the box, and his head down. If anyone checked the surveillance camera, they’d see a guard with his head down, waiting.

* * *

It took two minutes for the elevator to move. He left the box in place because the light on it blinked yellow, showing it was still sending a signal. As he rode down—he wasn’t sure how far—he reviewed scenarios in his head for what might happen once the doors opened. He saw the negatives but discarded them and saw the positives. He was an Imperial Security field agent, and he’d never failed in his mission. This wouldn’t be the first time.

When the elevator doors opened, he lowered his head and started coughing. He covered his mouth with his left hand and hoped the brim of the hat concealed his face and the skin of his hand from anyone looking in his direction.

“Hey! Who are—are you okay?” The guard’s tone shifted from demanding to something akin to concern or annoyance. Darrel assumed he’d seen the uniform and reacted accordingly, and that he couldn’t say why he was there because of the coughing, which was what Darrel wanted him to think.

A little closer, Darrel thought.

“Damn, man. You swallow a cup of sand or something?” the guard asked and did something Darrel didn’t dare to hope for. He turned his back on Darrel to reach into a small refrigerator for a container of water.

As soon as the guard turned his back, Darrel put two darts in his rear. The poor guard didn’t even have time to realize what had happened before he hit the ground. Darrel shook his head and walked over to pull the darts out, pocketed them, and then grabbed the container the man had been reaching for, opened it, and smelled it. Water. Perfect. Because the man was about to give it to what he thought was another guard, it would be untainted.

Since he didn’t plan to be there long, he didn’t bother to conceal the body. He did a quick pat down and found a keycard. Next was to figure out how to open the door to the cell. He walked over to a terminal that was built into the wall and swiped the card over the security reader, and sure enough, the terminal came to life. He stepped around the corner far enough to count the cells to figure out which one to open, and saw that Ari was the only hostage, so he hit the Unlock All icon and walked down the row as the doors released and opened a few inches.

When he reached Ari’s cell, the young man sat on the edge of what could only be called a bed if you were very generous with the term. He looked at the ground, and Darrel read his body language. He knew it well. Resignation. Defeat. Time to raise his spirits.

“Time to go home, Ari,” Darrel said.

Ari’s head snapped up, and his eyes met Darrel’s and widened. Uncertainty, a dare to hope.

Darrel held up the water. “It’s okay. Come on. We’ve been here too long already, and I’m not sure how much more time we have. Can you move fast?”

“I’ll sprint a marathon if you get me out of here,” Ari said, standing and walking out of the cell to accept the water and take a few sips.

Darrel was about to warn him not to guzzle it, but he didn’t have to. That struck Darrel as strange, but he would figure that out later. “Good, follow me. Once we’re at the top level, stay low and four steps behind me, so you don’t run into me if we have to stop suddenly. Clear?”

Ari nodded, took a few more sips of the water, then tossed it aside. “Have an extra weapon?”

Darrel raised an eyebrow and reassessed Ari. This one was full of surprises. “Know how to use them?” he asked as they moved to the elevator.

“I went through Army Basic but washed out because they don’t want people like me.”

Darrel thought he knew what Ari meant—they didn’t want gay men—but he didn’t ask. He pointed at the guard on the ground. “Well, he doesn’t have any need for his rifle anymore. Grab it. But keep it low unless I say so, or I’m dead. Understand?”

“Yes, sir,” Ari said and knelt beside the guard. He unclipped the sling, rather than trying to maneuver it around the guard’s body, and pulled it free, then clipped it around his shoulder and adjusted the length.

“I guess you know what you’re doing. Good. Come on. Time’s a wasting.”

Ari nodded and held the rifle at a low ready, index finger along the side of the rifle, but ready to hit the firing stud. When they entered the elevator, he stood to Darrel’s left and backed up against the wall of the elevator. Exactly what Darrel would expect from a trained soldier.

Darrel grunted in satisfaction and hit the Reset button on the box.

“What’s that?”

“I could tell you, but I’d have to kill you,” Darrel said.

Ari chuckled at the old joke.

Darrel looked at him, his expression serious. “I’m not joking.”

Ari swallowed hard and nodded. “That’s fair. Sorry. So, who are you, anyway? You’re not local.”

“Call me Snake,” Darrel said. The elevator moved, and out of habit, he checked the count on his sleepy darts. He’d put in a fresh mag before he’d freed Ari, but habits were hard to break, and he had no intention of breaking that one.

“Some kind of tranquilizer?” Ari asked.

“Some kind,” Darrel agreed.

“Should just kill the animals,” he said, his eyes dark.

“What did I say about the rifle?”

“I only fire if you say so, or you’re dead. Don’t worry. I want these heretic pharaohs dead, but I know how to follow orders.”

Darrel nodded. “Good.”

The elevator came to a stop, and Darrel took a quick glance out, only to see an empty corridor. “Either their security sucks, or they’re waiting in ambush.”

“They are arrogant. I would wager on the former and hope to win.”

“Me, too, Ari. Let’s go.” Darrel pulled the box from the elevator wall and pocketed it. He did one more sweep with his eyes, looking at each spot in the corridor where there was a break for a doorway, looking for any extra light or irregular shapes that would give away someone holding a door cracked open to watch. Nothing.

He nodded and made his way down the corridor, using rolling steps to cover the ground fast without making a sound. Not only did it keep his movement smooth, it kept his torso solid. There was no bounce at all in his steps, and an outside observer would see a perfect line parallel to the ground if they followed the top of his head, without a single peak or valley.

Darrel glanced back to check on Ari. He moved forward and then crab walked a few steps to check the rear, then forward again, transitioning without missing a step, and staying four paces behind Darrel.

They made it to the end of the hallway without incident, and Darrel held up his left hand, clenched in a fist. Ari took a knee and turned to cover the rear. Some hand signals were universal.

Using the mirror he’d gotten earlier from Shane, Darrel checked both directions, then turned and leaned in to whisper to Ari, “Right turn, twenty paces, and we’re out. Once we’re out, cross the street, ditch the rifle, and find a shadow to love. I’ll be right behind you and guide you from there.”

Ari nodded in response.

Darrel thought it might take some convincing to get him to ditch the rifle, and it still might, but that was for later. Priority now was to get Ari to Imperial territory, at least until Darrel accomplished his primary mission, and even then, there would be cells of resistance to be dealt with. Maybe there was a use for Ari beyond all this.

After he checked the path once more and saw it was clear, Darrel waved his hand forward and moved. Now it was pure escape and evade. Sure, there could be a guard or two waiting outside, but that would require the tactical mind of an absolute incompetent. You didn’t want to trap someone inside a secure facility that contained confidential data.

They got to the door, and Darrel shoved it open, then stepped aside and waved Ari by.

Ari ran across the street, and Darrel saw him unsling and toss the rifle. Darrel nodded, glad he’d followed instructions.

Darrel crossed the street and dove into a shadow as an aircar with bright lights came over a slight hill in the road and drove up to the building they’d escaped. He found Ari, tapped him on the shoulder, and motioned for him to follow, then led them away, using back alleys and shadows wherever possible. Next stop, Imperial soil.

* * *

They’d had to take a long way around to get to their destination due to increased patrols. Darrel reasoned they’d discovered the infiltration and were scouring the area for the perpetrators. Fortunately, Darrel was better than they were.

Darrel led Ari to the rear approach to the governor’s grounds. There wasn’t a guard on duty, but there was a man-sized gate in the back wall, and he’d hack his way in if he had to, but it turned out that wasn’t necessary. Shane and Mina were waiting for him, leaning against either side of the open gate.

“Took you long enough,” Mina said and walked over to shake Darrel’s hand.

“Next time, you go in,” Darrel said.

“Works for me! You know, it gets lonely watching from a distance sometimes.”

Ari stood by without saying a word while Shane came up to shake Darrel’s hand as well. “We figured you’d be coming in this way, especially after we saw all the party people in the air wanting to invite you over for tea.”

“Somehow, I think they have something less pleasant in mind. This is Ari,” Darrel said, not introducing Mina or Shane by name.

“Well, I know someone who is anxious to see you. Come on in,” Mina said and smiled as she wrapped an arm around Ari’s shoulder and guided him through the gate. “Let me be the first to welcome you to Britannia. Well, might as well be.”

“Britannia? You’re from the Empire? For me?”

Darrel followed Mina in, and Shane secured the gate. “Sure,” Darrel said. “We’ll go with that.”

Mina gave Darrel a glare over her shoulder, then looked forward and patted Ari’s shoulder. “Don’t mind him. He’s grumpy sometimes.”

“I assume you and Chad didn’t have any issues?” Darrel asked Shane.

“None. It was smooth sailing. I even hung out a bit to make sure there wasn’t a response team on the way while Chad made his way back here.”

Darrel nodded. “They got there about five seconds after we got out.”

“What do you think triggered it?”

Darrel shook his head. “We’ll debrief later. Don’t you want to see the fruits of your labor realized?”

Shane nodded. “I do indeed.”

* * *

Chad paced in the governor’s office and waited. How long had it been? He looked at the clock on the wall over Sergeant O’Kieran’s head. Five minutes since the last time he’d checked. This was going to take forever. Darren had asked for an hour. Twenty minutes to go.

“If you don’t sit down, I’ll sit you down and sit on you,” Gunnery Sergeant Hunt said.

“Sorry, sir,” Chad said and sat, then saw the look on the gunny’s face. “I mean, sorry, Gunny.”

“Better. Don’t ever insult me like that again.”

Gunny’s voice was deep, but there was a hint of humor in it as well.

It seemed to be a running joke among the Marines, but Chad didn’t get it. The interaction had its intended purpose; it got Chad out of his own head. He took a deep breath and tried to sit back in the chair, but he couldn’t. Only a few seconds later, he leaned forward again, and his leg started jumping like his heel was rebounding off a springboard.

Gunny put a hand to his ear and looked at Chad. “Incoming sighted. Two on foot. Snake’s in the lead.”

Chad jumped to his feet, but Sergeant O’Kieran put a firm hand on his shoulder and sat him back down with a thump.

“Keep your ass on the chair. They’ll be here presently.”

Chad nodded and watched the door. For Chad, the next few minutes were an eternity. Then he heard footfalls in the hallway, and the most handsome man he’d ever seen walked through the door. The man he’d never thought he’d see again.

Ayda gave him a light shove. “You can get up now.”

He looked at her with a grateful smile, then leapt up and ran to embrace Ari, and they kissed, and it was the best kiss Chad had ever had.

“I’m so glad you’re okay. This is all my fault. I’m so sorry,” Chad said once they broke for air, talking so fast he could barely understand what he was saying himself.

“Shut up and kiss me again,” Ari said.

Chad didn’t even notice Darren and his two friends enter the room.

* * *

Darrel walked into the room, and a rare smile appeared on his face. It was one of those moments he didn’t often get to see, the results of his work. In most cases, he was in and out before anyone knew it, and everything was back to where it should be without anyone learning how or why.

Mina put a hand on his shoulder and leaned up to whisper in his ear, “This is why we do it, isn’t it?”

Darrel nodded and turned to face her and Shane. He spoke softly, so as not to ruin the moment. “Every time we go in. Every time we put ourselves on the line, this is what we’re doing it for. So they can have moments like this.”

Governor Cameron cleared his throat, and everyone turned to face him. Including Chad and Ari.

“I’m glad this worked out so well,” Gavin said. “Should we worry about any repercussions?”

Darrel shook his head. “There’s nothing back there to say we were ever there. Though they have all our faces on camera now.”

“Do they?” Mina asked.

“What did you do?” Darrel asked, concerned.

“It wasn’t her,” Shane said and shuffled his feet. “I checked the room the other guard came out of on our way out, and it was the surveillance suite. I wiped everything for an hour before we got there and left it disabled. And before you ask, no, it wasn’t being sent live anywhere else. It’s an air-gapped system. No outside connection.”

“So, they’ll know it was us, but they’ll have no way to prove it,” Darrel said. “Time to burn Darren Atkinson.”

“I’ll arrange it,” Mina said, “if you’ll all excuse me.”

“I’ll come, too. We need to get back. Stop by in the next few days,” Shane said to Darrel.

“Will do. Get out of here. And make sure it’s a really good crash. I enjoy going out with a bang.”

“I bet you do,” Mina said with a wicked grin before she and Shane left the room.

Darrel shook his head and sighed. “Kids.”

“You’re not Darren Atkinson?” Chad asked, confused. He had his arm wrapped around Ari’s waist with little possibility of letting go.

“I’m him and some other people. Don’t worry about it. You can keep calling me Darren to keep it simple.”

“Um. Okay, I guess. Well, I think maybe Ari could use some rest.”

“Why don’t you show Ari to one of the guest rooms?” Gavin said. “I assume he needs to stay out of sight?”

Darrel nodded. “Don’t let him even look out a window. I’m serious. You don’t need that kind of heat. It would be best if we could get him off planet for a while, until I’m done.”

“No,” Ari said and pulled away from Chad, who was trying to lead him out of the room. “You’re some kind of intelligence agent, right? Here to deal with President Isa?”

Darrel raised an eyebrow. “And if I am?”

“Then I want to help. I have training, and this is my system. My home. I will fight for it.”

“Ari, don’t get involved. You just got free from them,” Chad said, whining a bit, much to Darrel’s dismay.

Darrel held up a hand to stop any further discussion. “I have things to do. You two—” he pointed to Chad and Ari “—need to have a long conversation, though I have a feeling not many words will be spoken.”

Chad and Ari looked at each other, and Chad turned a few shades of red.

“Ari, you’re not to even open the curtains and look out the window. I don’t want them to have evidence that you’re here. Is that clear?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good. It had better be, because if I have to do something like that again—well, I might not, next time. You two go. Ari, we’ll talk more tomorrow or the next day. You have my word.”

Ari nodded and took Chad’s hand. “Lead the way.”

“Sergeants, Governor, I’m afraid I need to get some data upstairs for analysis. Go ahead and get some rest, and if you have a room I could lie down in for a while later, I’d appreciate it.”

“I’ll get it set for you,” Hunt said.

“Governor, once I ‘die’ in an aircar crash, can you send someone for my belongings from the resort? I’ll also have a message for a woman named Rehema.”

“The courtesan?” Gavin asked.

“Oh, she’s much more than that, Governor. Trust me.”

“I’ll see to it. Send the message to me when you have it.”

Darrel nodded to everyone, turned on his heel, and walked out to go to the secure comms. Things were getting more interesting by the minute.

* * * * *

Chapter Sixteen

President Isa groaned when his comm chime went off. He ignored it for a moment, then rubbed his eyes, picked it up, and accepted it, voice only.

“What?”

“There has been an incident at location six, sir,” the voice of Colonel Hakimi, the head of his palace guard, said.

“That’s where they were holding the boy from the restaurant,” Miria whispered in his ear.

He shoved her out of the bed and snapped, “Do you think I do not know this? Get out!”

“Sir?” Hakimi asked.

“Nothing, Colonel. What is the status?”

He watched Miria hurriedly put on her clothes and leave. She had a nice body, but sometimes couldn’t keep her mouth shut. Still, she was a decent secretary.

“He’s gone. All the surveillance footage is missing, and the on-site staff are incapacitated.”

“Get Ahmed to my office in five minutes, and you, as well,” he said and cut the line.

Hanbal growled and turned on the light, got up, and took a few minutes to get himself cleaned up and into fresh clothes. It wouldn’t do for the president of Aswan to appear disheveled in front of his inferiors.

Exactly five minutes later, he entered his office through the private entrance at the back of the office, which was only a few steps down a hallway from his bedroom. He took his seat behind his desk, eyeing both the director of the Mukhabarat and the head of his palace guard.

“Report.”

Ahmed Kassab, the head of his General Intelligence Service, took one step forward. “We aren’t sure exactly when or how, but at some point this evening, one or more assailants entered the facility, incapacitated Agent Sayegh and two other guards, and escaped with the hostage. Their whereabouts are unknown, but a detailed search of the city is being executed as we speak.”

“Incapacitated? Not killed?”

“Yes, Mr. President. Knocked out by an unknown means. There are no physical markings showing that the attackers bludgeoned or choked them. We cannot wake them up. Agent Aayegh’s uniform was taken and later used, we assume, to infiltrate the detainment block.”

“You assured me that would be impossible, Samir,” Hanbal said and looked into his eyes. “Multiple layers of uncrackable security, I believe, is the phrase you used?”

“I would say attackers tortured the access information out of Agent Sayegh, but there is no evidence of any methods of torture being used, nor would they have had enough time.” Samir went on to detail the exact time the last of the day guards had left, and when the response team had arrived, as well as the details of how they’d found each body. “My forensics team is on site, but so far, nothing,” he concluded.

“The Britannian governor?” Hanbal asked, turning to look at Colonel Hakimi.

“No activity, Mr. President. There is a surveillance team in a building near the grounds, and no one has entered or exited in the indicated timeframe. The assistant, Chad Lester, was the last to exit some time before the incident. No record of him returning.”

“No? One might consider that odd.”

“We do, and he is the primary target of the ongoing search, as well as the server,” Samir said.

Hanbal scowled and rocked back in his chair. Miria entered after lightly knocking on the door, looking as perfectly turned out as usual, with a tray of tea and cups, set it on the corner of the desk, and withdrew without saying a word. No one moved to help themselves.

His staff had assured him location six, the building in the spaceport district they used for various purposes, was secure and impenetrable. At least in the vital areas, like the detention row.

“Did they find the storage level?”

“As far as we can tell, no,” Samir answered quickly.

Hanbal nodded and gestured toward the tray of tea. The two men fixed their cups and set the other cup in front of him. Miria already had his cup the way he liked it. He picked it up, blew on it, and sipped, then he returned the cup to its saucer, giving himself time to think.

“Sit, both of you.”

They did as ordered, though they remained at attention, even in their seats, as they stiffly drank their tea.

The speaker on his desk chimed softly, and he hit the acceptance button. Miria wouldn’t bother him now without a good reason. “Yes?”

“Sergeant Mifsud is here. He says he has urgent, relevant information, Mr. President.”

“Send him in,” Hanbal said and raised an eyebrow at Colonel Hakimi.

“His team is monitoring communications.”

A large, muscular man with a scarred face came into the office, braced to attention, and saluted. “Sergeant Omar—”

Hanbal waved a hand to stop him. “Enough. What is it?”

“We picked up chatter about an aircar explosion in mid-air, moving away from the city. Destination unknown at this point, but the transponder shows it was one of the high-end charter services.”

“Get a team out there and secure the wreckage immediately,” Shakir said just as Hanbal began to issue the same order.

Hanbal disliked being interrupted. Since Shakir had mirrored what Hanbal was about to order, and he liked initiative, he decided not to reprimand him on the spot in front of his subordinate. “Yes. Do that and get the details on the service. Send someone to their dispatch center, if you must, but I want to know who chartered it and its destination.”

He looked between Shakir and Ahmed, offering to let them add anything else.

“Get with ATC and plot the path. Verify that what they tell us matches the flight path from the origin point. Some of these services log one thing but do another for well-paying clients,” Ahmed said. “Isolate the person who took the order and executed it. If they won’t talk, and we can’t verify it, bring them in and hand them over to my people. We’ll get the information.”

The sergeant waited a few more seconds for any further instructions. When none were forthcoming, he saluted again and left the office at a trot.

Hanbal heard him issuing orders before the door closed. Ahmed’s people could get information out of anyone, given enough time. Even the traitor they’d captured had talked, eventually, though he hadn’t had enough information to be useful. He would spend the rest of his miserable life in a desert detention camp shoveling sand. They would let him die slowly from malnutrition and exhaustion. Much more appropriate than a simple execution.

“Sounds like you have work to do. See to it personally. I want a report over lunch. Go.”

They both rose, set their tea cups down, and left without a word, leaving Hanbal to think. The infiltration, the meeting with a traitor—it had to be the Empire, probably Imperial Security. Hanbal didn’t suffer the delusion that the Empire wasn’t aware of him or the changes on Aswan. He had hoped Aswan was insignificant enough that it wouldn’t warrant their attention, since they were busy with the war with the Swarm, but that hope might have been a forlorn one.

* * *

Hanbal walked into the conference room, where lunch was being served for Colonel Hakimi, Director Kassab, and himself. Shakir and Ahmed stood as he entered and returned to their seats only when he took his own.

The simple lunch of pita and some fillings was arrayed before them, and they all ate. Between mouthfuls, Hanbal looked to Shakir and asked, “What of the aircar crash? What did you find out?”

“It left from the commercial district. Single passenger, identified by the company as a businessman from Britannia, Darren Atkinson. I’ve checked, and we have records from when he entered the system several weeks ago. He’s been around the commercial district quite a few times, hiked in the area around the resort, and met with the governor, apparently. Or at least someone on their grounds.”

“Confirmation?”

“No, sir,” he said and shook his head. “The collision left wreckage spread over a large area. I sent a platoon out to secure the area under the guise of investigating a potential terrorist attack. I’ll hear if they find anything. Early reports are that everything burned so badly, there will be nothing to identify anyone by. Not even DNA. But they will find it if it is there.”

“Perhaps we could lend some assistance and expert—”

“You have your own problems to deal with, Ahmed. What of the failure at location six?” Hanbal said before an inter-agency pissing match could start over which of them should handle the crash site investigation.

“We are still waiting for—” He stopped and put a hand to his ear. Unnecessary, but it told Hanbal he was listening to an incoming message. “Our agents have found no traces of how the attacker or attackers were able to accomplish what they did. My technical experts tell me it’s impossible to activate the elevator without biometric recognition, which they may have done by using Agent Sayegh’s hand, even unconscious. But the elevator’s code is unhackable.”

“Apparently, that is incorrect,” Hanbal said. “Unless your agent gave them the code, in which case, you need to make an example of him.”

“I personally vouch for Samir, sir. We grew up together from the time we could walk, and I hand-picked him for this operation.”

“Well, then, it would seem someone is lying to you. Who else had the code?”

“Samir and two guards. Agent Chavi, the other guard they incapacitated on the main level, was not one of them. The guard on duty in the detention block did, of course, but he stays there during his shift until he’s relieved.”

“So, either your friend talked, or your technical experts are mistaken,” Hanbal said.

“Yes, sir. I will find out which.”

“Oh, I know you will. Since you vouch for this… Agent Sayegh… if he failed in his duties, you will share his consequences. Am I understood?”

“Yes, sir,” Ahmed said, only a slight quiver detectable in his voice.

Hanbal caught a bit of smugness on Colonel Hakimi’s face, but let it go. One of his people had screwed up by sharing confidential information, and he’d been as aggressive against his own man as he would have been against an enemy soldier. As he should have been. Director Kassab had put his reputation on the line to defend someone. Hanbal wasn’t sure Kassab had done the right thing. The man was either brave or stupid.

“If you’ll excuse me, sir. I should go and debrief the team at location six.”

“Go. I expect a report by the end of the day.”

Ahmed nodded, stood, and left the conference room, leaving Hanbal and Shakir to finish their lunch.

“Tell me your thoughts, Shakir.”

Shakir wiped his mouth and leaned back in his chair, slightly more relaxed than he had been a moment ago. “It has to be agents of the empress. The images I’ve seen so far of the crash site indicate an explosive was used… much more than would be present if the powerplant exploded. Whoever staged it intended to leave no trace of evidence. It wouldn’t surprise me to learn the aircar was devoid of passengers or even a driver when it exploded. This has all the hallmarks of a covert operation.”

Hanbal raised an eyebrow, surprised. Shakir was a good soldier, one of the best, but he hadn’t expected such a leap from him. “Explain.”

“First, one of my men turns traitor and hands over information on the palace and its security. Among that information are pictures of a resort. The man, whoever he was, slips away.”

Hanbal nodded.

“There has been an increase in activity from the revolutionaries, the terrorists, and now a ‘businessman’ from Britannia gets killed in an aircar crash due to unknown causes. An aircar that was headed for the very resort pictured in the images used by the traitor. Coincidence?”

“It’s a leap, but I don’t like coincidences. There is a detail at the resort, yes?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Question them. Find out what they know about this businessman. And find out who he spent his time with, if anyone.”

“Both are already being done, sir.”

“Good. Keep me updated.”

Shakir stood, understanding the dismissal for what it was, saluted, and left the conference room.

* * *

Samir paced back and forth. He’d answered every question asked by one of the Mukhabarat interrogators to the best of his ability. Samir had attempted to learn where he was. He wasn’t in his own facility or the palace, but the questioner ignored his questions. A part of his mind was nervous about that, but he had been an agent long enough and understood how the agency worked. It didn’t matter where he was if Director Kassab determined he’d outlived his usefulness. He hadn’t even been told whether his other two agents were alive or dead. After the initial questioning, they’d given him food, then left Samir alone to reflect on his failure.

He didn’t feel like a prisoner, but he was certainly not free to leave. The protocol was to keep an agent who had been through any kind of mission, especially an abject failure, isolated and question them at regular intervals in case a memory surfaced. He’d been the person on the other end several times, and it was nothing personal. They were doing their job, and he had failed to do his. The one thing he deduced from their questioning was that attackers had taken the prisoner, which should have been impossible.

Over the next few hours, the same interrogator, who never provided his name, came in and asked the same questions, and then gave an open-ended invitation for Samir to reveal anything he remembered. Using an old trick, he tried telling what he remembered differently each time, closing his eyes to see what he had seen. But all he could remember was that he had sent someone to summon the Britannian for an impromptu meeting. His purpose was to task Chad with retrieving specific information about what kind of naval presence the Empire had in the Aswani System, but he’d never had the chance. He remembered opening the door, Chad approaching… and then nothing. Blackness until he’d awakened here. Samir had inquired about the surveillance footage, but had received a noncommittal grunt in response, which bothered him even more.

The door opened once again, but instead of the nameless interrogator, Director Kassab himself entered the room alone and closed the door behind him.

“I’m sorry, Director… I do not know what happened.”

Ahmed raised his hand to stop him. “I know, Samir. The problem is, neither do we. Whoever did this scrubbed the surveillance system, and there is no backup.”

Samir sighed and sat on the edge of the cot, the only furniture aside from a small table and two uncomfortable chairs. Samir took it as a good sign that Ahmed had used his first name instead of calling him Agent Sayegh. Perhaps their friendship would save him from shoveling sand until he died.

“I know you’ve told the story multiple times but tell me again. What do you remember?”

Samir took a deep breath and nodded. “I wanted to get more intelligence on the naval presence in the system. The initial reports didn’t include that. I had received a notification that he had left the Imperial property for a walk, so I sent someone to give him directions to come straight here… Well, to go to location six. I was going to give him instructions to get that information. As I always did when I summoned him, I waited at the door.”

“Perhaps too much routine? You became predictable.”

Samir hadn’t considered that and grimaced. “You’re right, of course.”

“Go on.”

“I saw him coming, opened the door, and that’s all I remember. The next thing I recall is waking up here.”

“So, no fight, no struggle in which the attacker rendered you unconscious?”

“No, none,” he said, then shook his head. “Well, I have two sores on my chest, so it was likely some kind of tranquilizer dart, but the boy did not fire them. I would have seen a weapon in his hand.” Samir rubbed his chest absently. He’d mentioned those to the interrogator, as well. “I believe it is safe to assume it had to be an Imperial asset. How the boy could communicate to a team so quickly as to have someone in place when he didn’t know we’d summon him…” Samir shrugged.

Ahmed nodded. “That is my thought as well, and our analysts’. As for the timing, it could be they had an infiltration planned, and you got unlucky and were in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

Samir looked up hopefully as Ahmed paced. “I’m trying, Samir, to give you the benefit of the doubt. But something troubling came up in my review of the security records on the way here.”

“Troubling?” Samir asked, confused.

“Not long ago, there was an instance where someone left a window open, and a mau entered the facility?”

“Yes. I dealt with the agent who worked in that room.”

“Are you sure it was only the mau who got in?”

“I…” Samir began and then stopped. He realized that, no, he wasn’t sure, nor did he have any way of being sure. “I would have to speak to the guard again to ensure he inspected the office, but nothing but the mau was spotted on any of our surveillance equipment.”

Ahmed sighed and sat in one of the uncomfortable chairs. “This doesn’t look good, Samir. I’m going to do everything I can for you. I owe you that. But this may be, at the very least, the end of your career.”

Samir gulped. Intelligence was his life, and he didn’t know what he would do if he lost his place in the Mukhabarat. No one would hire an agent who had been released from the top intelligence agency in the system.

Ahmed looked into his eyes. “Now. Tell me again.”

* * * * *

Chapter Seventeen

News of the aircar crash reached the resort, and Rehema was told by one of the people who worked in housekeeping. They were the most reliable source of information anywhere in the resort, because they saw and heard everything. She sat in the garden outside the resort and cried. Not really for him, but for Aswan. He was their hope. Certainly, he was a good man, and the time they had spent together was fun. A lot of fun, she confessed to herself, but it felt like hope for Aswan had gone down in the crash. The resistance would still fight, but without someone with his mind to lead them, was there any chance of actually effecting any change?

After some time, one of the staff came over and whispered in her ear. “Someone from the Imperial governor’s office is here to get Mr. Atkinson’s effects.”

Rehema nodded and considered whether or not to go. To find out what had happened. She had already concluded that Isa’s men had figured out who the agent was and taken him out, but she needed to know. She stood and hurried up to the room. There wasn’t much in the room, some clothes, so it wouldn’t take them long, and she didn’t want to miss whoever it was.

Rehema found someone had propped the door open, and she knocked on its frame. “Hello?”

A woman’s voice responded, “One moment.”

Rehema backed away, leaned on the wall across the hallway from the door, and waited.

After a moment, a woman wearing a business suit walked out of the room carrying his bag and closed the door. “You’re Rehema, right?”

Rehema nodded. “Yes. I just wanted to—”

“Not here. Come with me, please,” she said and walked down the hallway without waiting for an answer.

Rehema followed her outside, and the woman climbed into the open door of an aircar with a uniformed Imperial Marine holding the door. He gestured for her to follow. There was something familiar about him, and then it struck her. He was one of the guards she’d seen when she’d dropped Darren off at the governor’s property. He gestured for her to follow the woman into the aircar again with a slight nod. She did, and he closed the door behind her.

“There are a few things we need to go over. But first,” the woman said, and then waved a familiar-looking box over Rehema’s body.

“I’m not carrying anything, and there are no microphones tucked away,” Rehema said, leaning away slightly at the perceived intrusion.

“Safety first,” the woman said as she finished the scan. “Okay. Now, the first thing I have to tell you is, I’m here because Snake asked me to be, and you’re here for the same reason.”

Rehema tilted her head, confused. Had he known he was going to be shot down?

“Honestly, I’m not sure which name you know him by, but Snake is very much alive and doing fine. But Darren Atkinson had to die. Snake will be fully out of sight from now on.”

She felt a wave of heat and relief go through her chest and spread all the way to the top of her head and the tips of her toes, and her face lit up. “He’s okay? Really?”

“Yes, he’s fine. He attended to some business, and the identity may have been compromised. If you’re as deep in this as he tells me, you’ll understand the implications.”

“I do.”

“Good. Now, it’s vital that word of this not get out. So, be sure to wipe that smile off your face before you get out of the car.”

Rehema nodded. “I understand. I’m just so relieved. Will I get to see him again?”

The woman tilted her head and grinned. “Oh, I think likely so. He has instructions for you. Read it here; you can’t take this with you. I don’t know what it says, nor do I need to know,” she said and pulled an old-fashioned paper envelope out of a pocket and held it out.

Rehema took the envelope with slightly shaky hands, carefully peeled the glue apart to open it, then read the simple handwritten note.

Go to Maria. Stay there.

—Snake

She nodded and crumpled up the note. “Tell him I will do as he asks.”

The woman held out a small black box and took the lid off. “In there, please.”

She put the crumpled-up note and envelope in the box, and the woman put the lid back on it and hit a button on the top. There was a crackling sound, and then she took the top off again. A burned smell filled the air, and when she looked inside, she saw only ashes and a few bright, burning edges of the remaining paper.

“Effective,” Rehema observed.

“You know Snake. He takes security very seriously. Now, do whatever he asked, and he’ll be in touch when he can.”

Rehema nodded and took a moment to get the last of her excitement out of her system. When she felt ready to display the mourning and sad woman who had gotten into the car, she opened the door and got out. The Marine gave her a nod and a slight wink, then closed the door and hopped into the passenger seat up front. Before Rehema even made it back to the entrance of the resort, the aircar had lifted off and was on its way.

* * *

The next day, under cover of darkness, a shuttle landed on the rooftop landing pad, and Darrel boarded for the trip to the orbital station above Aswan, the other piece of Imperial property in the system. He had spoken to Michelle, and they’d decided she had a lot to go over, and it would be best done in person. Since Darrel no longer had appearances to maintain on the planet, it was easy enough. He would wear a covering over his face and board the shuttle in the pitch darkness of the night. Of course, the Aswan government could inquire about it, but the governor was not required to answer.

Twenty minutes later, he walked into the Imperial Security section of the orbital and into Michelle’s office.

“What do you have for me, M&M?”

“A lot. Where would you like to start?”

Darrel sat down in a chair and leaned back. “It’s your show. Start with the small stuff and save the mission-critical items for last.”

She spent the first hour going over some things Darrel was already aware of, and others he wasn’t. All were useful, but not all were mission critical. He mentally filed the important pieces away, knowing a digital report would be ready for him with all the information cataloged as well. Then it was time for the more critical items.

“Remember the data we found on the first computer?” she asked.

“Weapons smuggling. Sure,” Darrel said.

“It’s more than that. They have a pirate fleet.”

Darrel was about to say they already knew that, but she raised her hand. One of the few who could do that and actually stop him.

“It’s not as large as we thought. A light cruiser and two destroyers, both woefully out of date, but still operational. Some of the weapons have gone to them. They have a new idea. They’re going to hijack and take possession of a cargo transport.”

His eyebrows went up. “They have a boarding craft?”

“No details, but my guess would be they have an old surplus assault shuttle on the cruiser,” she said and shrugged.

“And?” Darrel asked. There had to be more.

“And I know what their next target is.”

“Have you informed the Navy?” Darrel asked and sat up straight in the chair.

“Of course. I sent it off last night via fast courier with our message, Code Shadow.”

“Good. Well, nothing we can do about it from here. Next.”

“The comm network is ready. Sorry it took so long, but we’ve got almost global coverage now. I’ll have a chip for you with all the codes they can use to communicate, if we can get the information and hardware to them.”

“Honestly, I’m not sure it’s going to matter. Finding them and then convincing them we’re here to help might be more trouble than it’s worth. Given what I’m seeing, I don’t think we have time to play the long game. I may have to take a more direct approach.”

“Take him out?”

Darrel shrugged. “If necessary, though I’d rather their people do it. There are a lot of pissed-off people down there, Michelle. A lot of people who are just barely getting by,” Darrel said and shook his head. “And some who aren’t getting by at all.”

“It’s that bad?” Michelle asked.

“It is. I’m of a mind to put a bullet in his head myself, but that wouldn’t solve the problem.”

“So what’s the plan?”

Darrel stood and paced, a habit he’d tried to break, but sometimes he couldn’t help it. “Maria has a decent group, and they’ve been training. Then there’s another group closer to the capital. Shane and Mina have been working with them, and it turns out Ari, the young man we rescued, went through military training, but the army kicked him out before he finished. I saw him move. He’s got some skill, and he knows how to follow orders.”

“Still not enough,” Michelle said.

“No, but I’m betting on there being more close by. Anyone within one or two days’ hike of the capital would do, or any other major city. It’s got to be a big uprising, and it’s got to be coordinated. They’ll deploy the military, and Isa will have no qualms about having them kill anyone who opposes him, even civilians. And speaking of civilians, a lot of them will rise to the occasion if given the opportunity. They just need to know they won’t be alone.”

Michelle nodded thoughtfully.

“Can you hack their military comms?” Darrel asked.

She shrugged. “We already have. They say it, we hear it.”

“I mean, could you shut it down? Interrupt their signals? Even transmit on their frequencies?”

“Oh, that’s devious. We haven’t got that in place, but I’m sure we can manage something, given enough time.”

“Get on it. Anything else for me?”

“How far up are you moving the timeline? They slated this mission for at least six more months.”

“I don’t know yet. The pirate squadron—I won’t even call it a fleet—bothers me. I want that taken care of before we move here. If we fix things here, and they get word, they could come back in system and try to drop rocks on the planet out of pure spite.”

“You think they’d do that?”

“Never underestimate the stupidity and selfishness of the enemy. Keep me informed and start looking harder for any camps within a few days’ hike of the capital or any other major city. Use everything we’ve got. We need something they can’t ignore and can’t fight off all at the same time.”

“I’m on it.”

“Also, isolate targets. Communication hubs, government buildings, control centers, anything we can use to destabilize them. Then search out any cells close to those.”

Darrel saw the look on her face and held up a hand. “I know this is a lot, but if we can’t do it, we might as well pack up and go home to tell the empress we failed.”

“We’re going to have to alter our approach. Maybe even use shuttles for low-altitude sweeps,” Michelle said.

“If necessary, do it, but be ready with excuses. If your team spots anything that might be useful, relay it down, and either Shane, Mina, or I will check it out on foot. We can also try dropping a comm box nearby from the air and see who answers. Whatever it takes. We will not fail.”

* * *

The next week for Darrel was non-stop. He stayed on the orbital for several days, looking over maps of the globe complete with topography, pinpointing places where he would hide if he were looking to avoid surveillance, and tasked the station’s small ImpSec team with looking hard at those areas for activity. The shuttle took down communications equipment, and Shane and Mina took one of the sets to the camp they had been working with and trained a few people in its use. They decided Darrel should deliver the set to Maria and her camp himself, and he agreed. So, after a week of planning and seeing movement near a few of the locations he’d picked, the Imperial agent returned to the planet with a plan.

On the way down, the shuttle declared an emergency on its approach to the capital. Obviously not wanting to risk the city, the shuttle diverted and landed to make repairs. The “emergency” landing site put Darrel within a day’s hike of Maria’s camp through rough territory. He shouldered his burden, which was heavier than usual thanks to the comm gear, and made the hike. The shuttle would decline any offer of assistance and lift off about twenty minutes later to land on the pad atop the governor’s compound. Techs would down-check the shuttle for a few days, and the crew would make a show of pulling off various pieces and parts, performing what would be routine maintenance, but taking longer than it should. That way, anyone watching them—and there would be—would buy the story.

Darrel wasn’t in a rush, so he broke the hike into two days. The last thing he needed was to push himself to the point of exhaustion when he had so much to do in too little time. Finally, though, he made it to the perimeter. This time, he spotted the early warning systems. He tripped one and waited. He could have avoided them altogether, but showing up at the gate unannounced and unexpected was a good way to get a sudden case of dead, no matter how good you were. Oh, Darrel was confident he could infiltrate the base and walk into Maria’s own office unmolested, but that would require putting some of the guards out of commission, and they wouldn’t thank him for that.

It didn’t take long for him to hear them approaching. Again, this time, he knew what they would do, and rather than risking a drawn-out confrontation, he just called out, “Is Maria among you? If not, tell her Snake has come calling.”

“Snake,” the unmistakable voice of Maria said, and she ran out of cover toward him. She wrapped her arms around him in an unexpected hug, and Darrel returned it with one arm. The rest of the scouting team emerged. Most of the people he recognized, and they all wore relieved smiles.

“Rehema told us you were alive, but… to see you, it does the heart good.”

“Oh, yes, very much alive and kicking, if you don’t squeeze the air out of me.”

She released the hug and stepped back, clearing her throat. “Sorry. I suppose emotions are running a little ragged. Isa has been stepping up his patrols, and they’ve gotten close a time or two. We haven’t had to engage yet, but I fear the day is coming.”

“Well, let’s get to camp. I could use a drink, and we have much to talk about.”

* * *

Twenty minutes later, they sat in a makeshift conference room with Maria, Rehema, and Mohammed, whom he remembered having nearly shot at their first encounter. Rehema had been glad to see him and had whispered promises of a reward for returning that made even Darrel ‘Snake’ Atwater blush. Mohammed had shaken his hand, not taking their previous interaction personally, or at least not anymore. Maria had procured a bottle of whisky—not top-shelf, but passable—from the resort. Though Darrel figured Rehema had had more to do with it, and he sat with a glass while the rest had their beverage of choice.

After a few sips, Darrel retrieved the comm system from his pack and unlocked it, setting it in the center of the table. “It’s built to be sturdy and easy to use, but it will require some training. I’ll work with whoever will be operating it, plus, there’s a digital manual there,” he said and pointed to a palm-sized tablet mounted to the side.

“If the base is in danger, and you think you’re going to lose, hit the red button three times. Not two, not four, and definitely not five. Only three. Three will melt it from the inside out. Four will cancel the sequence. Five will cause it to explode and throw shrapnel in every direction as soon as the fifth push registers.”

Maria shook her head. “You think of everything.”

“Not me. Our geeks get paid very well to think of everything. I just hope I never have to hit the button five times.”

“I feel the same way,” Mohammed said with a slight shudder.

“Once operational, you can reach me, though I will often send typed messages. You’ll also have open comms with another resistance cell we located near the capital. I’m also going to find someone to lead some ground-level resistance in the city itself. There are a lot of unhappy people there.”

“I can help you with that,” Rehema said.

Darrel raised an eyebrow.

“I don’t always travel in the highest levels of society with secret agent men. It pays to associate with people in every stratum of the city. Sometimes, it’s the fringe elements that have the most information.”

“Right you are. I had a chat with a few, myself, and I think if we can organize them, they can be an asset, even if it’s just as a distraction.”

Rehema nodded. “I am at your disposal,” she said, and it was clear her phrase had multiple meanings.

Maria cleared her throat. “What do you think our timeline is? My people are getting anxious and worried.”

“I don’t know yet. Staging a coup isn’t easy to prepare, and other business distracted me for a short time, though we are moving forward. I hope we can start an action within a few weeks. How they respond will dictate how things go from there.”

“I understand. Thank you. Dinner should be about ready. Who’s hungry?”

“I’m starving,” Rehema said and stood with everyone else. She sidled up to Darrel on the way out of the conference room and whispered in his ear, “You should eat well. You’ll need your strength.”

* * * * *

Chapter Eighteen

Commander Kelly Livingston, commander of Destroyer Squadron 24, or DesRon 24, lounged in her command chair on the bridge of her destroyer, Horizon. Pirate interdiction wasn’t always glamorous duty. In fact, most of it was cruising between one system and another, hoping something might happen, but praying it wouldn’t, because if they came across pirates, it usually meant there was a civilian ship in range, and they were at risk.

She had been in command of her destroyer squadron for a few months now, and her team had meshed together perfectly. Her bridge crew knew what she expected, and the captains of the other three ships in her small squadron were a part of the whole. She was proud of how well they all worked together.

“Incoming courier squawking code Shadow, they’re transmitting encrypted traffic,” said Lieutenant Frost, the comms officer.

“Decrypt and send it to my screen,” Kelly said. Maybe things were about to get interesting.

“You’ve got it. The courier is proceeding to Icarus.”

Kelly nodded and looked at the message. “Looks like we’re going hunting. Kathy—” she turned her attention to her navigator “—set a course for the Kwa Zulu System and pass the orders on to the rest of the squadron.”

Once Kathy set about her task, Kelly turned to her tactical officer. “Lieutenant Kong, get me any information we have on shipping traffic scheduled in or out of the system in the next three days.”

Kelly had already checked and calculated the transit, and that was how long it would take them to get there. She hoped there were no ships due in or out, but if the pirates were on a schedule, they knew who was going to be there.

“We’ll hit the limit in ten minutes,” Lieutenant Lamb said.

“Got it,” Kong said. “Looks like only two ships were due in within the specified time window. Both large haulers, though one is lightly armed.”

“Lightly armed? Armed enough to fend off a cruiser and two destroyers?”

“No, ma’am. They might survive a missile attack from an extreme range with their railgun batteries to shoot them down, but they’d lose in a running fight. The destroyers easily have more acceleration.”

She frowned and furrowed her brow.

“Transition in ten seconds,” her navigator called out.

* * *

Captain Raden Ingram lounged in the command chair of the container hauler Sanford as they broke orbit after dropping off the first load of this two-month-long run. He’d run this route many times and knew it better than the back of his hand, but formalities had to be followed.

“Time to the limit?” he asked.

“Forty-two hours, Captain,” Chand Sumal, his navigator, answered. “Once we’re in hyper, it’ll be about four days to Aswan for the next drop.”

“Thanks, Chand. How’s our schedule looking?”

“Offload was quicker than usual, so we’re about eight hours ahead of schedule.”

“Excellent. That gives me time to do more paperwork,” he said in a monotone voice. “Let me know if anything comes up.”

The bridge crew chuckled as he left the bridge. Everyone knew he disliked paperwork.

Raden went to his office, which was attached to the bridge, and spent the next few hours doing routine paperwork that seemed to be the backbone of the shipping industry. The small office wasn’t much, but it was his. Well, as long as the company let him run the ship.

He’d been in the Imperial Navy, and his ship had taken severe damage in a Swarm attack, and so had he. With the loss of an arm and one leg below the knee, Fleet had deemed him combat ineffective, and he hadn’t wanted to take a desk job, so he’d retired from the Navy and joined the private sector, where physical limitations weren’t an issue. In truth, he was lucky to be alive; he was the only member of the bridge crew who’d survived. He’d been on the command track in the Navy and was close to getting his own destroyer when it happened, so when he came on with the shipping company, they gave him a ship after only a year of serving as first mate on this very hauler. The captain had retired, and they’d given the ship to Raden, which suited him just fine. It wasn’t as important as the role he could have had in the Navy, but without trade, the Empire would crumble, so he still felt like he was contributing.

With almost two days to the limit, he walked out of his office and back through the bridge on the way to his cabin.

“I’m going to get some sleep. What’s the system traffic look like?”

“Standard traffic. There’s another hauler, Dauphin, following about an hour behind us to the hyper-limit,” Lance Bryant, Sanford’s tactical officer, responded.

Raden nodded. Sanford didn’t have the teeth of an Imperial Navy ship, but she had two railgun batteries on each side of the massive ship for anti-missile defense and defense against boarding from pirates. One fore and one aft on each side. The coverage wasn’t perfect, but it was better than many haulers had, which was usually nothing. With the next Swarm attack predicted to be within the next few months, anti-piracy patrols were running a little thin, as ships were called back to stage in Britannia or Icarus.

“Standard watch rotation to the limit,” he said before he walked off the bridge to his cabin to get some much-needed rest.

* * *

Kelly had learned from experience and let her first watch crew sleep until they were two hours from entering Kwa Zulu. The time came, and she walked onto the bridge to find her crew was already in place. Lieutenant Commander Cook, her XO, gave her a quick rundown, which was that nothing had happened.

She sat in her command chair and configured her displays. “Report. Current contacts?”

“They’ve beaten us here. I have a light cruiser and two destroyers just now in sensor range, and they’re transitioning into the system.”

Kelly grimaced, but she wasn’t surprised. None of her bridge team was. If anything, they were closer than she expected. Her math had had them arriving at least six hours after the pirates, but things happened in space. Maybe they could catch them before the haulers left orbit.

“Give me all ships’ captains on a circuit.”

“Programmed for channel four,” Lieutenant Frost said less than a minute later.

Kelly pressed the button on the arm of her chair to open the channel. “Form into line-abreast formation. I want us all to transition in at the same time. As soon as we’re through, accelerate at three hundred gravities. Don’t wait for the sensors to clear. We know they’ll be somewhere in front of us. All ships, have missile defense batteries ready.”

Over the past year, the Navy had converted the destroyers to full railguns and removed their missile launchers because they were ineffective against the Swarm. The Swarm attack ships were too agile for missiles, so picking them off with railguns was the current doctrine. Right now, Kelly wouldn’t have minded a few missiles. On the other hand, the pirates did have missiles and could stand off and fight out of range of her guns.

* * *

The next nearly two days were routine and boring. With an hour to go until they reached the limit, Raden strolled onto the bridge and sat in his command chair. “How are we looking, Chand?”

“Smooth sailing, Captain.”

Raden nodded and lounged in his chair. He didn’t specifically need to be there, but it was something he had carried over from the Navy. He was on the bridge for every translation to and from hyperspace, like his captain had always been.

“Hyper footprints! Multiple contacts! Coming in at .2 c, two hundred gravities acceleration carried over from hyper.”

Normally, Lance Bryant, his tactical officer, wouldn’t have been so animated about ships coming in, but in this case, he had reason to be. Raden pulled up the tactical plot on one of the displays arrayed around his command chair and frowned.

“Go to one hundred gravities acceleration and get a portal opened as soon as possible. Preferably before their sensors clear.”

He pressed the button on his chair that opened the all-hands channel. “All crew, this is the captain. Prepare for an emergency jump. Strap in wherever you are and hold on.”

Warships coming into this system weren’t unheard of. It was rare, but it happened. Small destroyer squadrons patrolled the trade routes, but these weren’t Imperial Navy ships. Their transponders were off, and they weren’t broadcasting anything.

He felt the ship’s acceleration, even with the compensators, as he reviewed the updating tactical data.

“One light cruiser, two destroyers, Captain,” Lance reported. “If we’d been on schedule…”

“We would have been sitting ducks, just like the Dauphin is,” Raden finished his tactical officer’s sentence, and spared a thought for the crew of the Dauphin. They were too far inside the gravity well to jump, and too far away from the planet to make it back before the warships could intercept them, and he had no doubt that was their intent.

“Incoming message from the unknown light cruiser, Captain,” said Barbara Talley, his communications officer, looking over her shoulder from her station.

“Time to jump?”

“Ten seconds,” Chand responded.

“Let them listen to dead air. Barbara, get a message off to Icarus as soon as we’re in hyper. Include our tactical data, course, and destination. Also notify them that Dauphin is likely to be boarded, captured, or destroyed. We don’t have the guns to take on three ships, especially a light cruiser.”

As he spoke, he felt the familiar lurch of his ship entering hyperspace, and his stomach trying to move up his esophagus. In an emergency situation, his navigator would jump when he was ready, without waiting for the order.

Barbara read back the message, and Raden gave her a nod. “Load it and send it.”

She turned to her station and tapped on her keyboard. A few moments later, she turned to face him. “Message probe is off.”

“Well, that’s all we can do,” Raden said and unstrapped. “Any issues from the jump?”

“A few messes to clean up, no injuries,” Lance responded.

“Good.”

“Contact! They’re friendly. Looks like a small destroyer squadron,” Barbara said.

“Hail them immediately,” Raden said.

* * *

“New portal opening. Looks like a ship coming out,” Kong said.

“Identification?”

“It’s the Sanford, ma’am. They must have been way ahead of schedule.”

“Incoming comm request from Sanford,” Frost said.

“On screen.”

As soon as the image of the transport captain appeared on the screen, she could see the relief in his eyes. “Sanford, this is Captain Kelly Livingston, commander of DesRon 24 on Horizon. What’s your status?”

“Deities, are we glad to see you, Captain. I’m Raden Ingram, Imperial Navy, retired,” he said and waved his artificial arm, “the captain of the Sanford. We’re unharmed. A few sick bags were missed from the crash jump, but we’re fine. There’s another transport headed to the limit, though, the Dauphin. They’ll be in range of whoever those ships were in a few hours.”

“As I’m sure you’ve surmised, they’re pirates. Probably after your load, or the Dauphin’s, we’re not sure. But we’re here to stop them.”

“They’ve got a light cruiser and a couple of destroyers,” Raden said, then glanced aside for a moment and nodded before looking back at the screen. “From the looks of your ships, you’ve got the upgraded guns, so you should be good.”

Kelly nodded. She didn’t know Raden and had never heard of him, but he certainly sounded like former Navy. A message flashed up on one of her screens, confirming his identity and that he had been in line for a destroyer command before he’d lost an arm and a leg in a Swarm attack. He was lucky to be alive.

“I hope so, Captain. We’ll take it from here. Get yourself out of here.”

“It will be my pleasure, ma’am. We’ve sent a buoy off to Icarus, as well. We didn’t know you were here.”

“Icarus is already aware. We caught a courier ship and found out this was about to happen, so we headed this way as quickly as we could.”

“I’m sure the Dauphin will appreciate anything you can do. Ingram out,” he said and cut the channel.

“Let’s get in there and get some pirates,” Kelly said.

* * *

Captain Isma Saliba slammed his hand down on the arm of his command chair. “How did we miss them?” His voice was quiet, almost calm. That was dangerous, and his crew was well aware of that.

“They must have been ahead of schedule, Captain,” said Ahmad Maloof, his tactical officer. He was the only one brave enough to turn and answer him. “We came through exactly where we were supposed to be and brought in plenty of speed.”

“Cut acceleration to a hundred and fifty gravities and launch sensor probes. What else is in the system? We cannot go back empty-handed.”

Isma didn’t tell them how many probes or where, because it was standard procedure for them if they were hunting. Now, all he could do was sit back and wait. The light from around the system would reach them as time passed, but if there was something nasty in the system, he wanted to have as much detail as possible. He could have stayed at a higher acceleration, but there was no need to race in when he had no idea if there were any targets. If the system was empty of targets of opportunity, he would turn and go to another system, and he wanted to be close to the hyper limit, if that was the case. But his intelligence showed there should be at least one more outbound cargo vessel that would hopefully be worth his time. One loaded hauler would fill the space in all three of his ships, and then some. He was always happiest when he had to decide what to keep and what to leave. Or if chance was on his side, he would capture the hauler, itself, which would do well for his finances.

Just short of two hours later, Ahmad turned in his chair. “Captain. The other hauler just altered course. He must have finally seen the light of our arrival.”

As if on cue, the communications officer raised a hand as a visual signal to Isma that he was receiving something of note. “Incoming request from the cargo hauler Dauphin.”

Isma leaned back in his chair and grinned like a shark. It was the other hauler that was supposed to be in the system, and if the manifest they’d purchased was right, it was full of luxury goods retrieved from around the Empire and bound for Britannia.

“Any other vessels in range?”

“Nothing, Captain. I would say it is him and us,” Ahmad said.

“Accept audio only.”

“Unidentified ships, this is the cargo vessel Dauphin. Your transponders are not returning any signal. Please state your intentions.”

Well, at least he’s polite, Isma thought, but that’s not enough to save you.

“Dauphin, you are to cut your acceleration, lower your shields, and reduce your power to minimum required levels. Disable any weapons you may have and prepare to be boarded.”

“What’s the meaning of this? We will do no such thing,” the man said.

Isma muted his microphone and turned to Ahmad. “Time to intercept?”

“If he cuts acceleration now and we maintain speed to turnover, fifteen hours.”

“Time to weapons’ range if he doesn’t? Factor in two hundred and fifty gravities of acceleration for a passing engagement to disable.”

“If we blow by, ten hours, Captain. But that factors in two hours of deceleration to get speed back down to 0.2c.”

Isma grunted in understanding. If his ships were traveling faster than 20 percent of light speed, their targeting sensors couldn’t track and get hits on even the large, slow-moving target.

Patience, Isma, he told himself. The transport can’t get anywhere safe before you can reach him.

“Set up a tactical intercept,” Isma ordered. “We’ll take the fifteen hours and do it right.”

He unmuted his pickup. “You have ten minutes to comply with my demands. If you do not, we will take your ship by force,” he said, and drew his finger across his neck, signaling his comm officer to close the channel.

“They’re accelerating, Captain.”

Ahmad chuckled. “Good. I hate it when it’s too easy. Rest the gun crews. I want them fresh. You too, Ahmad.”

“And you, Captain?”

“Soon.”

* * *

Chimes around the ship sounded four times, indicating the ship was ten seconds from transition, and Kelly tightened the straps in the chair. She had given orders for the ships in her squadron to be at battle stations and ready to fight as soon as they translated, and they were ready.

They would carry over only a hundred gravities of acceleration, since they didn’t know what they were jumping into. It was possible that the pirates had given up and were on the way out. She wasn’t concerned about a light cruiser and two destroyers run by pirates, but anyone could get lucky. The most dangerous time would be the sixty seconds or so after translation, when her sensors would be blind. After that, she would be the hunter, and the pirates would feel what it was like to be the prey.

She felt the familiar gut twisting of translation and counted to sixty in her head. Though she could have watched the clock, the counting occupied her mind and kept her from asking for a report before they could give her one.

As she was about to count sixty, the report came.

“Contact. One light cruiser, two destroyers. Accelerating at a hundred and fifty gravities,” Lieutenant Kong said. “Recommend acceleration to three hundred gravities to overtake.”

“A good thought, Tactical, but let’s give them a chance to surrender first.”

That drew a few chuckles from the bridge crew. Of all the pirates they had encountered, none had ever surrendered.

“Hail them, Comms.”

She waited for the signal to reach the pirate ship, then for a response. Ten minutes more than was strictly necessary passed before Lieutenant Frost shook his head. “No response, Captain, and there’s no doubt they got the transmission.”

“Fine. Maintain battle stations and accelerate at three hundred gravities. Bring us to formation Bravo on an intercept course, Lieutenant Kong.”

Formation Bravo would put the destroyers at an interval, with two ships on a “top” layer, parallel to each other, and the others would be offset and “below” them to port. The proximity would allow overlapping defensive fire and keep their offensive fire lanes open from almost any angle.

Kelly could feel the acceleration and watched the tactical plot on one of her displays. It would take some time for the light of their maneuver to reach the pirates, and she wanted to close as much distance between them as she could until that happened. She was quite happy to let them plod along at a hundred and fifty gravities.

“New contact. Hauler Dauphin. Looks like she’s turning to head back in system.”

“Erik, let them know we’re here and tell them to do what they’re doing. Get back in-system as fast as they can. We’ll handle these pirates as quickly as we can so they can be on their way.”

She projected calm confidence but was well aware that the throw weight of the light cruiser wasn’t to be ignored, at least if their crew was half competent, which wasn’t always the case with pirates.

* * * * *

Chapter Nineteen

Isma rose and stretched. It was quiet, so he debated stepping off the bridge for a quick nap in his office. Then the bridge was no longer quiet.

“Contact! Four hyper portals. Four Imperial destroyers, accelerating at a hundred gravities.”

“How are they here?” Isma asked, then waved his hand in dismissal. “Accelerate to two hundred and fifty gravities and get the primary crew back up here.”

It only took a few minutes for his primary bridge crew to get back to their seats, and as soon as they were, his communications officer raised a hand.

“Incoming comm request from Imperial Navy Destroyer Horizon.”

“Ignore them and maintain a course toward the hauler. They won’t fire if they risk hitting civilians.”

“Captain,” Ahmad said from tactical, “the Dauphin is turning back toward the planet. Best guess would be that they can achieve two hundred gravities at most.”

Isma considered his position. Four destroyers weren’t much, but the Imperial Navy had been upgrading some, he had heard, with improved railguns with a faster firing rate, and better range. Certainly not the range of his missiles, but the engineers had designed those guns to destroy fast-moving Swarm attack craft. They were likely capable of killing his missiles, unless there were too many of them. One option was to fight a running battle across the system, which would take days, to try to reach the hyper limit on the other side of the system and get out, but he didn’t have that much ammunition, and he was almost sure the Navy ships could squeeze more acceleration out of their powerplants than his ships, given the old and poorly maintained state of his own.

Try to run? No. Try to use the cargo ship as a bargaining chip? Yes. That will do nicely.

“Maximum safe speed, catch up to the hauler. We’ll use it as our ticket out of this system. Have the destroyers move out to grab it.”

His communication officer modified and repeated the order with more specific instructions to the destroyers, and he nodded approval. The destroyers wouldn’t actually “grab” anything. That was his expression for a maneuver that would put the destroyers to either side of the slower hauler, giving them both the ability to focus fire on the vulnerable engines of the ship and cripple it, potentially taking out its life support depending on the configuration of the ship. Now, he would wait and see how the Imperials responded.

* * *

Captain Livingston watched her plot and saw what the pirate captain was planning. She scowled. Cowards.

“Shift in enemy position. They are spreading out. It looks like they’re not giving up on the hauler,” Kong reported.

Lieutenant Kong was good, and she would have to give him up so he could have his own command soon, but every day was a lesson on her bridge. “Why would they do that?” Kelly asked. The way she asked, he would know she had an answer, but she wanted to see if he drew the same conclusions.

It took a few minutes, then Kong turned in his seat to face her.

She looked at him expectantly. “Give me your analysis, Gathii.”

“They’re going to get the hauler in firing range, and then use her safety as their escape card. Threaten to destroy her if we fire on them.”

Kelly nodded. “That’s my thought, as well. What do we do about it?”

Kong didn’t hesitate to respond. “We cannot let these pirates escape. They are not thinking it through. If they fire on the Dauphin, there is nothing to stop us from destroying them. They would have forfeited their lives. Once they match speed with the Dauphin, we can easily catch up to them and put them in position for what will hopefully be kill shots, since they would have to maintain their guns on Dauphin.”

“As soon as they see that we’ve fired, they will fire on Dauphin,” Kelly said.

“Probably. We should warn them of that possibility and have them prepare to abandon ship. The admiralty may not like it, but that’s a bill we must pay to eliminate the pirates in this sector.”

Kelly agreed mentally but raised an eyebrow. “Taking money from the empress’ purse fairly casually, aren’t you? The Crown would likely reimburse the shipping company not only for the ship, but for any lives lost and the cargo.”

“Less than the cost of any future ships they would take and those they already have. Patrols like ours are already thin because of the war, and losses are higher than they were before the war. The company will protest, but they will recognize it as necessary. Plus, the other factors of this particular pirate group.”

Kelly knew he was referring to their known association with Aswan, a member of the Empire—information known only to him, her, and the captains and tactical officers of the other ships in her squadron, and a few other members of her staff. It was also actually something she’d forgotten to factor in, and it only strengthened her resolve.

“Right you are, Gathii. Maintain an intercept course. Comms, prepare to record a message for Dauphin.”

They were close enough that they could communicate with only a slight delay, but this would not be a conversation. It would be a set of instructions. Lieutenant Frost nodded, then pointed at her.

“Dauphin, this is Captain Livingston of the Imperial destroyer Horizon. The pirates are about to flank you, and you must know they will fire on you. Maintain course and speed, but prepare to abandon ship. We will try to take them out before they cripple or destroy you, but we can make no promises. Deities watch over you and your crew.”

Frost listened to the recording, then nodded. “Good copy.”

“Send it.”

* * *

Time passed, and his ships were finally in range of Dauphin. All his ships had missile locks and were ready to fire. “It’s time to make our demands. Hail the Imperials and apply the filter,” Isma said.

“Are you prepared to surrender?” the Imperial captain asked when the connection was made.

Such arrogance.

“By now,” Isma began, “you must realize that you are in a losing position. If you take any aggressive action, we will fire on and destroy the hauler before leaving you to clean up the mess. Reduce your speed. The hauler will accompany us to the limit, where we will leave the system and allow it to do the same, unharmed, if you are good little boys and girls.”

There were chuckles and grins from his bridge crew, as they knew the Imperials wouldn’t risk the lives of civilians. The Empire was so soft and easy to manipulate in the icy darkness of space. His intelligence had told him it would be some time before the Imperial ships, even with their speed advantage, would be in firing range, so if his ships continued to accelerate, he would simply fire and run. There was a possibility he could defeat the Imperials in a standup fight, but it was too remote to gamble.

“You have two choices. Lower your shields, cut power to everything but life support, and sit still in space until we make contact to decide your disposition, or continue on your present course of action, and we will execute the harshest penalty given for pirates and destroy your ships.”

Isma hid the hesitation that crept into his mind. Captain Livingston’s voice was cold, steady, and sure. There was no doubt in her mind about anything she had just said. He couldn’t address it or attempt to spar verbally with her because he would lose, and that would make him look weak in the eyes of his crew.

“You have our conditions,” he said and stabbed the button on his chair that cut the signal.

Ahmad glanced at him over his shoulder, and Isma did not miss the look. His tactical officer knew as well as he did that their chances were slim, but it was the only chance they had to survive this encounter. The penalty for piracy in Imperial space was death.

* * *

Kelly sighed and shook her head. They were going to do this the hard way. Not that she had expected any different, but a girl could hope.

“Gathii?”

“All ships have their targets. We can fire on your order. Horizon and Hideki will fire on the light cruiser. Phalanx and Relentless will take a destroyer each.”

It was a risk to split her squadron’s fire, but she hoped the pirates didn’t know about the improved range of her guns. They were already in range. Her plan was to take them by surprise, before they were ready to take incoming fire, and throw them off balance long enough to disable them before they could fire their missiles at the helpless cargo hauler. She also hoped the Dauphin’s captain had heeded her advice and already had non-essential personnel in escape pods.

She almost felt bad because the pirates would fire on the hauler first, and not their military force, in the hopes it would cause them to slow down to execute rescue operations, but that would not happen. The pirates were going to die today.

Kelly hit the squadron comm net button on her chair. “Execute.”

Her squadron was in close enough proximity that all ships would hear the order and carry it out simultaneously. It was a maneuver they practiced, and she was applying it to full effect. Normally, her tactical officer would issue squadron commands, but this one she wanted to take personal responsibility for.

The war against the Swarm had prompted designers to change destroyer construction methods. They’d even upgraded the older model destroyers like Kelly’s. Destroyers filled two roles within the fleet. Escorting larger warships or civilian ships and patrol duty like DesRon 24’s current assignment.

Originally, two missile tubes and two laser batteries lined the port and starboard sides of Kelly’s destroyers. But the missiles were too slow, and the lasers took too long to recharge between firing, and thus were useless in the fight against the alien invaders that now attacked the Empire. Initially, the designers had replaced the lasers with fast-firing 20-millimeter railguns, but the two twin mounts had only been marginally more effective. Fleet had upgraded all of DesRon 24’s ships with the newer 40-millimeter twin-mounted guns. Boasting a bigger round and a higher acceleration rate, the guns were a significant upgrade over the smaller mounts.

And I have four mounts on each broadside instead of two, since the yard pulled out the two missile tubes on each side and replaced them with the dual guns as well, Kelly mused.

The other difference with the new weapons system was range. In normal space, Newton’s Laws were in full effect. “A body in motion will remain in motion unless acted upon by an outside force.” Missiles would run out of fuel and cease to be able to maneuver. Even in a vacuum, lasers would eventually lose focus, and the energy would begin to dissipate. But a railgun round would simply keep going on its path until it hit something or a gravity source pulled it in. Tactical officers defined railgun range as how far away they could accurately target another ship and expect to get a hit.

And these three idiots are flying nice, straight courses for us.

As if commanded by one computer, the ships cut acceleration and rotated to starboard in space, still moving forward, and fired all their railgun batteries at their designated targets. The ships then rolled, bringing their port batteries to bear to fire another volley. Then they straightened out and resumed acceleration. It was a tactic that would be useless against the Swarm, but it worked fine against pirates.

* * *

Isma sat bolt upright in his chair when he saw the movement of the Imperial ships. “What are they doing? They’re trying to scare us! They are not in range. All ships, fire on the hauler. We will teach them the error of their ways.”

Missiles launched from all three ships in his force and accelerated to six hundred gravities as they raced toward the hauler. Before the missiles hit, small dots appeared on his tactical plot. Some of it would be countermeasures intended to distract the missiles, but it was thicker than he had seen from a hauler before.

“Life pods. They’re abandoning ship,” Ahmad said.

So, they were ready for this. They had planned for it. “Evasive maneuvers. Ships may operate independently to avoid incoming fire as necessary. Maintain separation.”

He watched as the missiles pursued the hauler. The countermeasures distracted some of the missiles, but others hit the target.

“Multiple missile impacts. The ship is bleeding atmosphere.”

“Change course for the limit. Get us out of here,” Isma ordered.

Then the surprise came. The railguns of the Imperial Navy had more range—and more teeth—than he expected. His ship shuddered under him as round after round hit and penetrated the weaker rear shields of his ship. He was about to demand a damage report when the second salvo hit.

He turned to Ahmad, who looked back at him, not with fear, but with the knowledge that they were about to die for the cause.

“Bring us around. Fire on the Imperials as quickly as possible.”

Before they could, a single railgun round drilled its way through to hit one of the reactors, and the failsafe systems, not maintained for months, failed. Captain Isma Saliba and his light cruiser exploded.

* * *

Captain Kelly Livingston watched in shock as all three of their targets disintegrated under the first two salvos. She had expected to weaken their shields, maybe even get a few hits in, but that was unexpected, to say the least.

“Status on the Dauphin?” she asked.

“Bleeding atmosphere, but they still have power,” Frost said. “The captain requests we collect their rescue pods and meet them in orbit.”

“We will do exactly that. Lieutenant Kong, stand down from battle stations and begin search and rescue efforts.”

“Done, Captain.”

“I’ll be in my cabin. I need to draw up a report for Fleet Command.”

Lieutenant Kong stood and moved to her command chair as she rose. Before she left, he touched her arm and spoke in a low voice. “How did that happen? I know fleet upgraded our weapons, but…”

“Pirates, Gathii. They’re not very good about routine maintenance. I can only guess they let the aft shield generators go longer than recommended. Probably the same with their reactors.

“You have the con,” she said in a normal voice.

“I have the con,” Kong said and sat in the command chair to handle search and rescue.

Once in her cabin, she closed the door behind her. She shook her head and ran her hands through her hair. She didn’t care about the pirates; they deserved what they got, but she knew there would be casualties on the Dauphin, and an officer’s board might disagree with her decision to attack. That was why she had given the order herself. The decision was hers alone. She wouldn’t let an outstanding officer like Gathii Kong suffer for her choices. Such was the politics of being an officer in the Imperial Navy.

She poured herself a glass of vodka, confiscated from a captured pirate ship some time ago, sipped it while she brought up the tactical replay of the encounter, and wrote her report.

* * * * *

Chapter Twenty

After the dinner and a long evening with Rehema, Darrel used Maria’s camp as a base of operations. She provided him with a small office, which was a generous description for the closet-sized room with a desk and a chair, but it was all he needed, and more than he’d had on many occasions. He spent his days going over the intelligence Michelle sent down when her team pinpointed potential targets for action. Some, he dismissed; others, he marked for action. Most of the resistance would avoid sites like that because of the increased security around them. But he hoped some would be brave enough to monitor them, and maybe even have plans of their own to strike.

He’d assigned Shane and Mina to retrieve equipment from the cache and work out the process to move assets without detection. Once he gave the order, he moved on. It would be up to them to figure it out, and he didn’t care how they did it. He spent his time reviewing intelligence and running scenarios to find the best way to accomplish his mission with the lowest possible body count on either side.

So far, Shane and Mina had delivered three more comm setups to newly discovered cells, one of them in the capital itself. It turned out there was a small, organized group sheltering in what he considered the slum district, which shouldn’t even exist on a planet in the Empire. That would be his next visit, because they would be on the front lines, and he needed to know how serious they were. Or more to the point, if they were ready to put their lives on the line.

He glanced at the clock, saw the time, and packed. His pickup would fly over in half an hour, and he needed to be ready. Once he had his essential equipment in a pack, he shouldered it and walked out into the cool night air.

“Going somewhere?”

It took him a moment to place the voice, then he realized it was Mohammed.

“Yes. Places to go and people to see.”

“Rehema will not be happy. You’ve become her favorite distraction.”

Darrel grinned. “Yes, well, she has plenty of options, I’m sure.”

Mohammed approached and held out a hand. “Will we see you again?”

Darrel shook the offered hand and shrugged. “I don’t know. Situations like this are fluid, and there is a lot to do.”

“Deities watch over you, Snake, and keep you safe from harm.”

“And the same to you, Mohammed,” Snake said and melted into the shadows between two of the buildings.

By now, everyone was calling him Snake. It was best for them if they didn’t know his true name, and it worked. Word, based on rumors picked up by intercepted comm traffic, was the reputation of the Snake was spreading. In some stories, he was twenty feet tall and destroyed buildings with his bare hands. In others, he could transform into a snake to escape capture. Generally, it was a bad idea for an agent to be talked about at all, but in this case, he had become the government’s bogeyman, which worked in his favor.

* * *

Hours later, via a circuitous route, he snuck into the rear entrance of the governor’s compound. The Marine guard force had added his information to all the biometrics, so it was easy for him to come and go as necessary. Darrel had almost made it to the door of the office building when he caught motion out of the corner of his eye and froze.

Whoever was there hadn’t seen him, so he lowered himself quietly into a crouch. He was on secured property, so it was probably a roaming guard, but one could never be too careful.

“Station two, thought I saw something in the rear. Checking it out,” the guard said into his radio, then swept the area with his rifle.

A second later, the floodlights came on and illuminated the rear of the compound from building to gate. The process impressed Darrel, and he was glad to see it. He stood and faced the guard so he could run Darrel through facial recognition for identification.

“Damn, you want to get shot?” the guard asked a moment later and lowered his rifle.

“I generally try to avoid it,” Darrel said. “Good response.”

“Thanks? I didn’t know your job was to test security.”

“That’s always one of my many jobs—” Darrel checked the insignia on the light armor “—Corporal.”

“Kill the lights; it’s Snake,” the guard said into his radio.

The lights shut off, and Darrel nodded. “Thanks. Be safe,” he said, and walked into the building, and made his way up to his room to sleep.

* * *

The next morning was busy. After a quick breakfast that consisted of walking through the kitchen to get coffee and a few pastries, he continued to the governor’s office. As he expected, Governor Cameron, Chad, Ari, and Gunny Hunt were waiting for him.

“I heard you got in last night and figured you’d want to talk this morning, so…” Gavin said, and swept his arm to encompass everyone present. “Shall we get down to business?”

Darrel sat, propped the pastries he’d picked up on a small plate on his lap, and took a sip of his coffee. “Things are moving forward. Honestly, the less you know about the details, the better,” he said, addressing Gavin directly.

“I can see that. I can’t lie about information I don’t have. Though I’m a pretty good liar.”

“I’ve heard that about most people in the diplomatic corps,” Darrel said. Whether it was a joke or a jab, he left up to the governor to decide. After all, lying was an absolute necessity if you were an Imperial Security agent, so he didn’t judge.

Gavin took it as a joke and grinned.

Gunny barely contained a snort.

Chad looked offended. That was okay. He was young and hadn’t learned yet.

“Ari, I’m going to need your experience in the field,” Darrel said.

“I was hoping you’d say that. I’m ready to go wherever you need me.”

Chad protested. “No! You just got rescued. You can’t put yourself at risk again.”

Ari turned and held Chad by the shoulders, and looked into his eyes. “This is my home, and I must fight for it. For me to sit here while others fight… is something I could never do.”

“Good. We’ll leave in an hour,” Darrel said, cutting off Chad’s protests. “Governor, I’m going to need some local clothes.”

“That much I foresaw. They’re already in your closet.”

Darrel nodded. He was still wearing the same thing he’d been wearing yesterday, and desperately needed a shower, but he’d skipped it. He’d be going into the slums, and if you went there smelling clean, you’d stand out.

* * *

Forty-five minutes later, while Darrel was reviewing the surveillance images an ImpSec satellite had captured of the area he’d be going into, someone knocked on the door of his room.

“Come in,” he said and turned to face the door. He made a mental wager on who it would be.

Ari opened the door a bit and stuck his head in. “Have a few minutes, Snake?”

Darrel nodded, motioned for him to come in, and gestured toward the edge of the bed, the only surface in the room other than the chair Darrel himself occupied. “I expected you a little sooner, actually.”

Ari grinned. “Well, it took a while to calm Chad down.”

“I can imagine he’s still not thrilled about the idea.”

“No, but this is what I have to do. Which brings me to why I’m here. What exactly is it you want me to do?”

“There’s a cell in the city. In the slums, which I’m sure doesn’t surprise you.”

Ari shook his head.

“I can’t go in there and turn them loose to wreak havoc. I need someone there with some training. Someone I can trust to guide them.”

“I’m someone you can trust?” Ari asked.

Darrel pursed his lips. That was a valid question. He barely knew Ari, but what he counted on was that Aswan’s leaders had wronged him. The young man could never lead a real life in this system if Hanbal Isa remained the system leader.

“I trust that you’ll do what’s right for Aswan, and I trust you believe that the system will be better off without Hanbal Isa in charge. As for trusting you personally…” Darrel shrugged. “As much as anyone else I’ve never been in a firefight with. But you know how to follow orders. You dropped the rifle like I told you to when every fiber of your body probably screamed at you to hold on to it.”

“That was hard,” Ari said. “But I figured you knew best, since you were the one who managed to get me out of there.”

“And that’s why you’re the right man for this job. I have other assets, as you know, but they’re foreigners. The people who are suffering in the slums need a local. Someone they can look to and trust without question.”

“Even being local, trust is going to be hard to earn with them. Two years ago, the slums didn’t even exist. Then, more people lost jobs for one reason or another, and…”

“I know,” Darrel said. “And that’s why I’m here.”

A chime sounded from Darrel’s computer. “Five minutes. You ready?”

“I figured our conversation wouldn’t take long, so I’ve got some clothes and credits in my pack in the hallway.”

“Good, let’s get moving.”

* * *

Darrel changed into local clothes and slathered a tint onto his hands and face, so at a glance, he would look like another local. He had a slim pack on his back, under the outer layer, and his pistol concealed within reach. To be sure, he’d had the gunny look him over, and he couldn’t spot Darrel’s weapon. If the gunny failed to spot it, a civilian on the street, or even a guard, didn’t stand a chance.

Ari carried the comm gear in a beat-up-looking suitcase that was sturdier than it seemed and had his own shoulder pack with changes of clothes. They left out the side entrance, often called the “servant’s entrance,” and made their way onto the streets and away from the city’s center.

They took a meandering path, stopping at some street vendors for a quick bite to eat. They weren’t necessarily hungry, but it helped them fit in. Finally, they reached the slums and walked toward the building surveillance had flagged as the likely headquarters of the resistance in the city.

As they approached, two men who had been leaning against the wall stood up straight. One brandished an iron pipe, the other a khopesh.

“Keep walking,” one of them said.

Ari glanced at Darrel for reassurance, then turned toward the men. “I think we’re where we’re supposed to be.”

“Do you, now?” the other man asked and laughed. He spun the khopesh in his hand.

Darrel could tell the man was used to having it in his hand and was likely proficient in its use. He could also tell Ari was losing his nerve, so he acted. He drew his pistol slowly and aimed it from the hip at the man with the blade. “Yes, we do, and that blade will not do you much good if you have a hole in your head. Now, I know you’re willing to die to protect this place, but I want you to understand that I’m here to help. You can call me Snake.”

The men glanced at each other. They obviously recognized the name and his Britannian accent.

“How do we know that?”

“Well, I could give several examples and drop several names, but it’s likely none of it would mean anything to you. So, let’s barter trust, shall we?” Darrel flipped the gun in his hand and offered it to the man by the barrel. “You hold onto that until your people trust me. Then I’m going to need it back.”

Ari looked surprised and took a step back.

The man with the pipe propped it on his shoulder and took Darrel’s gun with the other. He turned it in his hands but kept his finger away from the trigger.

“Okay. Understand that once you walk through that door, you may not walk out.”

Darrel looked the man in the eyes. “You or anyone else who tried to effect that result would regret it for at least a minute. Possibly less. So, do you want to stand out here and look even more suspicious, and draw attention? Or shall we go inside?”

* * *

Darrel ushered Ari ahead of him when the man holding Darrel’s gun motioned to the door with the barrel. The entry hallway was narrow, leading to an open foyer that had served as a sitting and greeting area when this apartment building had been at its height. The foyer occupied two stories of the building, so there was probably a balcony of some sort around it. He was already thinking about how the building might be utilized. As soon as Darrel heard the door close behind him, someone sprang out of an alcove to his right and grabbed his right arm in a tight grip.

He spun to the right and slammed the heel of his hand into the person’s chest; it turned out to be a woman, and she staggered backward into the door guard, who had followed them in. The guard caught her, but that was enough time for Darrel. To her credit, she didn’t let go of his arm, but all that did was bring Darrel along with her, and he continued the forward momentum until he had them both pinned against the now closed door. In the same motion, he snaked his right hand up to pin the hand holding the gun.

Darrel heard his gun fire four times, and the grip on his arm released when the woman went limp. The guard tried to hold her up to keep her from falling, and Darrel used the opportunity to wrap his fingers around the man’s wrist and twist until he released the gun, which clattered to the floor.

Ari rushed forward to pick the gun up and hold the barrel against the door guard’s temple. “Stop.”

Darrel saw fear in the man’s eyes as he let the woman fall and raised his hands.

“Drop your weapon and let him go,” a calm but firm voice said from behind him. Darrel wasn’t surprised that the entrance inside was well guarded, with only two toughs outside, but this was getting ridiculous.

He turned to face the voice and found a man with a rifle at his shoulder standing a few paces outside of the entry hallway, looking down the sights at Darrel. He wasn’t concerned about his rear anymore, so he took a few steps to get out of reach of anything stupid the guard might try.

“Now, tell me what makes you think you’re going to walk out of here alive,” the man with the rifle said.

Darrel sighed, bored with the bravado and threats, and walked forward. “If you were going to shoot me, you already would have, so spare me. I can leave if you’d like, and you can continue to do whatever little annoying things you do that you think matter, but really don’t. Or you can listen to me, do what I and my companion here say, and possibly get Aswan back to the way it was before Isa stole the presidency. Decide, because I have things to do and people who want to make a difference I can spend my time on.”

By the time he had finished talking, he stood mere inches in front of the barrel of the rifle. That also put Darrel in the foyer to survey the entirety of the open area. He noted the tops of heads duck down like gophers below the balcony rail to avoid being seen. A few other people had weapons trained on him, but he wasn’t worried about them. He was now in close proximity to the person he confronted, and it would take someone confident in their marksmanship to fire and hope to only hit Darrel.

The man was afraid. His hands were shaking. He was controlling them, but only barely. Darrel was glad to see his finger wasn’t on the trigger, or he might have accidentally pulled it, and there was only a slight chance the form-fitting body armor he had under his clothes would stop a rifle round at this range. Darrel looked into the man’s eyes and waited. If he sensed any shift at all, he decided he would be able to grab the barrel and shove it aside before the man pulled the trigger. He hoped.

“Who are you?”

“You can call me Snake, but I’m sure you already know that from your surveillance systems. They’re simple, but they’re there. Probably installed when this apartment building was first built. I’d wager only 25 percent of it works anymore.”

“We know him!” a familiar voice called out, and a man and woman rose from behind what had once been a concierge desk. He remembered them as the couple who had tried to steal from him in the flophouse.

“You do?” the man with the rifle asked.

“Well, sort of,” the man said. “He asked us a lot of questions about the city about a month ago.”

“And he gave us money so we could eat,” she added.

“You really are the man they call Snake? The one Isa has put out a bounty on?”

“Well, I wasn’t aware of the bounty, but yes, that would be me. He doesn’t like me very much.”

“Partially because he rescued me from one of their secret detention cells,” Ari said. He’d come up behind Darrel, pushing the guard along. Ari shoved the guard so he stumbled into the foyer, and Ari walked up to stand beside Darrel. “You can trust him and me, and we’re here to help.”

“Put the damn gun down, Thabit,” a commanding voice said from Darrel’s left.

“Deities, Kafele, is that you?” Ari asked.

“It’s me, Ari. Glad you found us, and glad you’re ready to be one of us.”

* * * * *

Chapter Twenty-One

Fifteen minutes later, Darrel sat in a conference room that had been more or less refurbished to operational capacity, with Ari, Kafele, and a few others, none of whom he recognized.

“You two know each other?” Darrel asked and looked between Ari and Kafele.

“Sorry, I suppose introductions are in order. This is Kafele Hadad. He was my unit commander when I was in. He led the training cadre.”

Darrel raised an eyebrow.

“And I fought to keep him in. Ari has the skills, but some fights you simply can’t win in the face of ignorance.”

“Well, I brought him here assuming this cell might need his help, but if you’re here—”

“I can definitely use him,” Kafele said.

“I’m organizing a very large effort spread over the entire planet,” Darrel said.

“I understand that, but I’m the only one here with military experience. Ari got booted out before he could get any further, but I have a feeling he can lead a small unit and accomplish a mission without me looking over his shoulder better than anyone else here.”

That earned a few grunts from the others in the room, and Kafele stood up and looked them in the eyes one by one.

“Some of you barely knew which end of the rifle to hold when I found you, so don’t go thinking you’re some kind of elite operator because you can hit a target nine times out of ten.”

Darrel didn’t visibly respond, but he approved mentally. He liked the guy already.

“I have a feeling there’s only one elite operator in this room. And I know that because all we have to call him is a code name, and if he had wanted to, I would wager he could have taken out everyone out there without breaking a sweat.”

All eyes turned to Darrel, and he shrugged. “Something like that, though it’s pretty hot. I might have sweated a little.”

Kafele and Ari chuckled, but no one else did.

“I’m here to help,” Darrel said. “That’s all you really need to know. I want Isa out as badly as you do. You can have Ari, and he has some comm gear for you.”

At Darrel’s nod, Ari set the case on the table, and Darrel unlocked and opened it.

One of the men stood, moved around to look at it, and whistled low. “Never seen anything like that.”

“I’m not surprised,” Darrel said. It wasn’t an insult to the man’s knowledge. It was a simple statement of fact.

“Husani is our electronics wizard,” Kafele said.

“Okay. Let’s go over the basics,” Darrel said, and spent the next half an hour covering the operation and, if necessary, destruction of the equipment.

“For now, lie low, and let them forget you exist. Once I have a plan ready, someone will communicate with you and explain your part. And your part is all you need to know about.”

“Why should we trust you? You’re an offworlder,” a woman who had been silent the whole time said.

Kafele was about to say something, but Darrel held up a hand to stop him.

“Because I’m the only one on this planet with the ability and desire to dispose of Isa and get things back to the way they should be.”

“What’s your version of what that should be?” she asked.

Darrel looked into her eyes. “Whatever you and the rest of the system want it to be, as long as it fits within the boundaries of your membership in the Empire.”

With that, Darrel patted Ari on the shoulder, gave him a reassuring nod, turned, and walked out. As he passed a group trying to wake the guard he’d put to sleep, he checked the time. “Give her another three hours. She got pretty heavily dosed. She’ll be fine but will probably have a headache.”

As he headed for the front door, the couple he had recognized came up to him, smiling.

“It’s good to see you again,” she said.

“I’m glad to see you two here and better fed than before.”

They both nodded. “Kafele takes good care of everyone and lets us all chip in to do our part.”

“That’s good. I’m sorry, I really must be going.”

“Oh, come, there’s a back way through some underground tunnels. You’ll come out in an alley, where you won’t be spotted by anyone. We use it sometimes for…” she trailed off.

“Materials acquisitions,” the man said.

Darrel chuckled and nodded. “Excellent. Lead the way.”

When Darrel emerged from the tunnels, he checked his GPS and plotted a route, sticking to back alleys as much as possible, back to the governor’s compound. When he was what he reasoned was about halfway, a light chirp got his attention, and he ducked into an alcove. He pulled his pocket tablet out and accepted the message.

RPT HQ C1.

He tucked the device away and took off at a run.

* * *

Darrel slowed as he neared the compound and made his way in via the side entrance. Someone greeted him, but he didn’t break stride as he continued to the secure comm room and opened the link to Michelle, who answered as soon as the connection completed.

“Darrel, it’s bad.”

“Tell me.”

“Mina and Shane. The entire camp…” She looked away and shook her head. “It’s gone.”

“What do you mean, gone?” Darrel asked.

“Isa’s people found it, somehow. I don’t know how. We’re still trying to figure that out,” she said before he could ask. “Aircraft bombed it. They didn’t stand a chance. They didn’t bother sending anyone in on the ground. Isa just sent in attack craft and leveled the area.”

“They’re smart. I’ll go check it myself,” he said and stood. “They would have found a way to hunker down.”

“No! They’re still there, Darrel. They’re waiting to see who comes to check out the site. We caught them on satellite footage setting up camouflaged spots in the burned-out zone and craters.”

“Any sign they found any of our gear?” Darrel asked. He would mourn Shane and Mina later,

She shook her head. “If there’s anything left, it’s in pieces.” Michelle looked up for a minute in the direction of the door leading into her private office. “Damn… they’re using this for PR.”

“—is what happens to those who would oppose us!” Hanbal Isa said, sitting behind his desk, with a quarter of the screen showing video imagery of missiles destroying the camp. “We do not know who these traitors were, but if anyone within the sound of my voice knows of any other traitors, I do not care if they are your friends, brothers, sisters, parents, or children, you will report them immediately. If we find you did not, you will suffer the same fate. We will allow no one to threaten the peace and prosperity of Aswan.”

The image blew up to full screen on the destruction, and Darrel realized Michelle was right. They were using explosive warheads, followed by rounds that were meant to penetrate ship hulls. Even if Shane and Mina had managed an underground hiding spot, it would be gone, too. Then the screen blinked black, and Michelle’s face reappeared.

“What do we do now?” she asked.

“We complete our mission. Their lives have not been lost for nothing. Everything we do from now on is for them and for the Empire.”

She nodded. “We’ve got more locations for you, too. Sending it now.”

Darrel nodded, pulled a blank data chip from a stack on the desk, and inserted it to copy what she was sending.

“Isa’s people have to know you’re still alive.”

He nodded and smiled. It was a dangerous smile that made even Michelle shiver visibly. “Yes, I’m sure they do. And they better be scared and watching over their shoulders. Before, I was on a mission. Now I’m on a mission, and I’m pissed off.”

“Don’t do anything stupid,” she said and leaned toward the pickup.

Darrel noted the data transmission was complete and pulled the chip, turning it in his fingers. “Who, me?”

She cocked her head at him and stared through the pickup.

“Warn Maria’s people about what happened. Tell them to either step up their preparation, move, or both.”

“Will do.”

“Thanks, Michelle,” Darrel said and closed the channel.

He leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. Mina and Shane had shown promise, and they’d loved the job. You didn’t sign up to be an Imperial Intelligence field agent unless you were willing to put your life on the line, and they’d made the sacrifice. Now it was up to Darrel to make sure it wasn’t in vain.

* * *

Darrel stayed in the communications room for a while longer before he unlocked and exited the room. Chad and Sergeant O’Kieran were both waiting for him. Chad stood up straight, his eyes going wide with fear and expectation.

“What’s wrong? Is Ari okay?” Chad asked.

“Ari is fine. He actually ran into someone from his past.” Darrel noticed the look on Chad’s face and added, “Not like you’re thinking. His past in the military. He’s fine, Chad.”

“Something’s not,” Ayda said.

“You’re right, but it’s nothing that concerns you,” Darrel said cooly. “But you won’t be seeing Shane or Mina again.”

He left them both standing there, mouths agape, as he walked away. Darrel knew there were better ways he could have addressed the situation, but he wasn’t in the mood. Ayda might get it, but Chad would never understand that people like Darrel always carried the fact that they might die at any moment with them and were at peace with it. He didn’t have time to coddle the young man right now. Now was the time for action.

In his room, he sat at the terminal on his desk and detached it from the compound’s network. He picked up his pack and fished out his case, from which he withdrew a chip with a red and white striped case. He pulled the chip from the case and inserted it into the terminal. After about five minutes, the screen blinked, and three words appeared on the screen.

Encrypted: Eyes Only

Then he realized he hadn’t closed his door. He’d been so focused. He looked up to see Sergeant O’Kieran standing in the doorway, alone. “What happened?” she asked. It wasn’t a demand. It was the muted voice of someone who understood what it was like.

“Doesn’t matter,” Darrel said. “They’re gone, along with the camp they were working with.”

“What’s next?”

Darrel stood up suddenly, and his chair flew backward. “What do you think is next?” he said with a rare raised voice. “Next, I do what I came here to do. Nothing has changed. I still have my mission. Or do you think I should curl up on the bed and have a good cry? That won’t fix a damn thing.”

Many people would have retreated at seeing a man as dangerous as Darrel Atwater in a near rage, but she simply nodded. “What can I do to help?”

Darrel stared at her.

“With the mission,” she said. “You’ll sort the rest out in your own time, in your own way.”

“Technically, and legally, nothing,” Darrel said. “I’m not here. I don’t exist. None of us exists. If we die, no one knows. That’s how it has to be.”

“But we have a force here, we can—”

“You can’t do anything, Sergeant. If you die, there’s paperwork. If I die, there’s nothing.”

She looked at him. The look in her eyes was somewhere between shock and pity.

He walked over, gesturing for her to step out of the doorway. “If you’ll excuse me. I have a lot to do, and I don’t know how much time.”

Ayda stepped back, speechless, as Darrel closed the door.

He sat back at his desk and inserted the chip of data Michelle had sent down. Now he was certain the information would remain secure. He couldn’t risk that information getting out, and he had no idea if there might be a spy in the building. Trust was at a premium, and he had none to spend.

He scrolled through the list of potential targets and potential resistance sites, and considered each while his mind continued to ponder how Isa’s people had found the camp. It had been well camouflaged, as validated by the fact that even his own team hadn’t been aware it was there until Shane and Mina had spotted it by chance during a recon mission. No, someone had talked.

A communication hub. That was a target. The air base the attack craft had departed from. That was another. There were many infrastructure targets, but he didn’t want to cripple the planet’s infrastructure. He only wanted to stop Isa from being able to call for help or stop that help from responding. He would be putting assets with no military training into action, if he could convince them to act at all, so military targets had to be ignored. If he’d still had Mina and Shane… he stopped that thought. He didn’t, so it didn’t matter.

He sighed and leaned back in his chair. Darrel had planned to spend at least another two months setting everything up. He was going to train a few select people to carry out harassment missions while the main show happened here in the capital. Now, he was afraid he was going to run out of time. Isa had already made a public example and was likely looking for the next one.

How far would Isa go? Darrel thought about it and rubbed his chin. Would he execute people in the streets? Would his soldiers carry out those orders? Over his career, he’d learned it was a lot easier for a pilot, or someone on a spaceship, to kill. They never saw the eyes of their opponents. They didn’t even see them as people. They saw them as ships, or buildings, or compounds.

Lengthy ground engagements weren’t the kind of thing the Empire focused on. Sure, there were rangers in the Marines for extracting assets, but they didn’t have the manpower for a protracted ground engagement. None of that mattered, because the parameters of this mission were clear. Aswan would either step in line, or they’d find out how good they’d had it when they found themselves paying tariffs on imports.

He shook his head to rid himself of the distracting thoughts and made a list of the suspected resistance camps he would have to visit. Three, he thought. If he could get those three camps, and the targets they were close to could be hit, his chances of success here would go up exponentially. That was five targets, but a few were close enough to hit multiple targets, and all they really needed to do was be enough of a nuisance to keep them occupied. He’d have to take a further step to make it all work. Darrel just hoped it wouldn’t be the one that ended his career.

* * *

His decision made, Darrel ‘Snake’ Atwater spoke to Sergeant O’Kieran, who was standing outside his door when he exited his room. Standing guard? Or waiting to see if he was going to come out a maniac? It didn’t matter. He gave her instructions to make sure she, the governor, and Gunnery Sergeant Hunt were in the governor’s office in ten minutes.

She strode off with her instructions, and Darrel went back to the comm room to speak to Michelle. After giving her a set of instructions—which she wasn’t happy about at all, but that she would carry out—he went to Governor Cameron’s office.

As soon as he walked in, Gavin walked up to him with an extended hand.

“I’m so sorry to hear about Mina and Shane, they were—”

“Good people,” Darrel said. “Yes, I know, but we don’t have time for that. Please, take your seat.”

Gunny looked at him and nodded, a soldier’s respect given without the necessity of words. “What can we do?” he asked, and he wasn’t asking about Shane and Mina. He wanted to get some back, like Darrel did.

“Dinner just ended. All the staff of the compound are still here doing a final cleanup before leaving, yes?” Darrel asked.

“They should be,” Gavin answered, unsure.

Gunny nodded. “They are,” he said with certainty.

“They’re not to leave. Line them up in the entryway. One of them is a spy, and I will find out who.”

Gunny Hunt issued orders through his radio without hesitation.

“Now see here… Snake, or whoever you are. You can’t detain foreign nationals. They’re employees of the Empire and deserve—”

Darrel held up a hand to stop him. “All due respect, Governor, spare me. People are dead, and someone in this building leaked the information. I am going on the assumption that it was one of the locals, planted to get intelligence. If it wasn’t, it was someone else on your staff, and I will find out who by whatever means necessary. And I’ll be the one who decides what they deserve. Treason, by law, has only one punishment.”

The governor started waggling his finger, a gesture Darrel detested. “I won’t stand for—”

“Then you can sit,” Darrel said, his voice calm and flat, devoid of emotion. He stared into the governor’s eyes, and the governor backed up until he bumped into his desk. Darrel was crossing lines, but he would color outside the lines if he had to, and in this case, he felt it was required. It wasn’t something he liked to do; in fact, he hated it. He was very much a “by the book” person, but sometimes situations arose that the book didn’t cover.

He saw from the corner of his eye that Sergeant O’Kieran was conflicted by what she was seeing. The gunny showed nothing other than mild interest. He was playing his cards close to the vest, but Darrel had a feeling that when it came to it, the gunny would do what was right for the Empire, even if the governor didn’t see it.

Remember, Darrel, you work for the Empire. This isn’t personal. It can’t ever be personal.

* * * * *

Chapter Twenty-Two

Darrel, flanked by Gunnery Sergeant Hunt and Sergeant O’Kieran, went down to the entryway, where other Marines had lined the staff up in a half-circle. Most of them had never seen Darrel and did not know who he was, but they knew the two Marines on either side of him. He walked to the center of the semicircle and looked around. The Marines remained back near the door, ostensibly to prevent anyone from running.

“Most of you are not in trouble, but I have a feeling at least one of you, maybe two, very much is,” Darrel said and walked to one end of the line, looking each person in the eye as he slowly walked in front of them. “I believe at least one of you has information he or she isn’t supposed to have and has passed that information along to an agent of President Hanbal Isa. I am… unhappy about the results of the leak of that information. If you are responsible, I recommend you step forward and confess. It will make it much easier for all of you. Because, make no mistake, I will find the guilty party no matter what it takes.”

He continued his slow pace. Some looked down, scared, but not in a way that concerned him. It was a healthy fear of the unknown. Some met his eyes, confident that they had nothing to hide. Those people impressed him. Then… he came to a woman who met his eyes at first, and then she shifted her gaze to her left, and then down at the ground. Darrel wasn’t sure whether it was guilt or a message, but he noticed there was a man who was looking their way, then looked away when Darrel caught his gaze.

Darrel finished his circuit and pointed at the man and the woman. “You two, stay. The rest of you may go, with this reminder. Nothing you see and hear in this compound is to be shared with anyone.”

Darrel gave a nod, and Gunny opened the front door and let them out that way. Several of them glared at the two who remained behind. The fact that someone who worked here had done something against the Empire actually bothered them. That was good.

“We’ll need somewhere private to chat,” Darrel said without looking away from the two he’d kept behind.

“Of course. This way, Snake,” Hunt said.

Darrel didn’t miss that. At the mention of his nom de guerre, both of the detained workers’ eyes widened slightly in recognition. Good, that works in my favor, he thought.

Gunny Hunt led them to a small private office off the entryway and opened the door. “Need us in there?”

“No, thanks, Gunny. I think this is a conversation best held in private,” Darrel said. “We shouldn’t officially report certain things,” he continued, leaving the threat hanging in the air.

* * *

Darrel pointed to two of the chairs arrayed in front of the desk. “Sit.”

The woman walked to one of the chairs and sat, while the man simply stood where he was and crossed his arms over his chest.

“I’ve done nothing wrong, and you have no right to keep me here.”

Darrel chuckled as he walked to the desk and leaned back against it rather than walking around to sit behind it. “If that’s what you think, you’re welcome to try to leave.”

The woman kept her eyes downcast. Deference, Darrel decided, and not the good kind.

The man remained where he was, and Darrel shrugged. “Have it your way. Now, you can make this easy or hard. Which one of you leaked information to Isa’s agents?”

“We have no idea what you’re talking about. Now let us go,” the man said.

Now he was speaking for her, and she kept her head down, silent, hands in her lap. Darrel frowned and looked at the woman. “Push your sleeves up to your shoulders.” It was a reasonable request, since the loose-fitting clothing that was preferred on Aswan would allow such a thing easily.

“What are you, some kind of pervert?” the man asked.

Darrel simply shook his head and sighed before speaking again with a raised voice. “Gunny.”

The door swung open, and Gunnery Sergeant Hunt stood in the doorway. “Need something?”

“Detain him and take him somewhere to cool down.”

“No! I will not leave Dalia in the room with this perverted Imperial!”

Darrel nodded his head minutely, and the gunnery sergeant stepped in and locked his grip on the man’s upper arm. With his free hand, he pulled a pulse pistol, probably on stun. Probably. “You can come with me, or I’ll drag you. Your call.”

The man glared at Darrel, the defiance clear in his eyes. Darrel recognized who the leak was now. He only needed to find out the extent of the woman’s complicity.

Hunt easily manhandled the man out of the room and closed the door behind him.

“Now. Your sleeves, please?”

Without looking up, she slowly drew up one sleeve, then the other, and Darrel spotted what he’d expected. Deep bruises on her upper arms, where someone would grab a person to control them. The same way the gunny had grabbed the man.

“He did that to you? Be honest, and I can work with you, Dalia.”

She nodded, barely perceptible, but it was enough.

To take a less imposing position, Darrel moved behind the desk and sat, so they were at eye level, and he was no longer towering above her. “Okay, you can let your sleeves down. Tell me what happened and why.”

She shook her head. “I can’t.”

Darrel felt pity for her, but pity only extended so far. He had to balance the obvious mistreatment she had suffered, which likely entered the realm of abuse, with his need for information.

“Let’s start easy. What’s his name?”

She glanced up at him. “Nassor Asfour.”

“I see. Very well. I’m going to go have a chat with Nassor and then come back to talk to you. I want you to consider a few things while I’m gone. If he forced you into anything, you need to tell me. I can work with you on that, and if he forced you to disclose information you knew you shouldn’t, perhaps we can discuss a penalty other than the normal one for treason.”

She looked up at him finally, and met his gaze, but only for a moment. The question was in her eyes and on her lips, but she didn’t ask it.

“Death is the standard penalty for treason against the Crown,” he said, assuming her question, and stood. “Now, think about that while I talk to Nassor.”

* * *

Darrel spent about 15 minutes “questioning” Nassor and then walked out the door. Both Sergeant O’Kieran and the gunny were waiting. “He’ll likely be unconscious for thirty minutes or more. Don’t bring him out of it. He’s under arrest for treason. I’ll deal with him later. For now, confine him somewhere.”

“You were right? He confessed?” Ayda asked.

“He did. It took a little persuasion, but he did, and it’s recorded for evidence.”

“We don’t exactly have a detainment block here,” Ayda said.

“We’ll figure something out,” the gunny said.

“I know you will. Honestly, I don’t know what the protocol is from here forward.”

“Leave that to us. We’ll have him available if you need him again, but until then, put him out of your mind.” Hunt said.

“Thanks, Gunny,” Darrel said and walked back to the office where Dalia waited.

He walked in and closed the door behind him before going to sit behind the desk. It was like she had barely moved, but he could see the drying wet streaks down her cheeks where she’d been crying.

“Now I have his side of the story. I just need yours to wrap this up.”

“They’ll kill me,” she whispered.

“Not if you never leave here, they won’t,” Darrel said.

She looked at him, surprised and confused.

And not a little bit scared.

He waved a hand dismissively. “I don’t mean like that. I mean if you give me evidence that proves Nassor coerced you, or… well, let’s call it what it is, beat you until you gave them what they wanted, you have nothing to fear, and I’ll make sure you’re protected. We can give you a room here to stay and send someone to fetch your things. I take care of good people, Dalia. That’s part of my job.”

When she finally started talking, it was like opening a floodgate, and she couldn’t stop.

“Yes. He… he beat me, and worse. I’m on the service staff for the governor, so I deliver drinks, food, that kind of thing, and sometimes I overhear things. We’re invisible. They hardly notice we exist, so they talk as if we’re not there sometimes. I’ve never told anyone what I heard, because we were told not to, but they knew I heard things and made me tell them. They would—”

Darrel held up a hand. “I have no desire to abuse you a second time by making you relive whatever they did. We have people you can talk to about that, to help you deal with it, but I’m not one of them. I can imagine the methods they used based on how Nassor spoke, and that’s enough for me to believe you didn’t willingly do anything to betray the trust placed in you.”

She looked at him with hope for what was probably the first time in a while, and fresh tears streamed down her face.

“Did you ever see a map or hear some coordinates you passed on to them?” Darrel asked, then saw her eyes go up and to the left. Good, he thought. That was, according to neurolinguistics, what people did when accessing visual memory. She wasn’t trying to come up with a lie.

“Yes! There was once. A spot in the foothills outside the city marked on a map. I tried to forget. I tried not to tell them, but…” The tears started anew as her memories moved from what she had seen to what they’d done to get the information out of her.

Darrel decided she didn’t need to know what had happened as a result of the information getting out. She would find out eventually, he was sure, but that knowledge might drive her over an edge he couldn’t pull her back from right now.

“Okay. Here’s what’s going to happen now,” he said as he stood. “You’re going to be ‘detained’ in a guest room here. They will feed you and provide for your needs, but you are forbidden from speaking to anyone else.”

“I have a child! He’s with my father during the day. They’ll be expecting me.”

Darrel tilted his head. He hadn’t considered that, but then, the concept of being a father was as foreign to him as the idea of being a woman.

“Your father, he must have noticed what was happening to you. There’s no way a father wouldn’t know,” Darrel said, and it was a statement, not a question.

She looked down at the ground again and nodded her confirmation. Her father was one of them. That made Darrel even angrier. Darrel was no parent, but protecting people was why he did the job he did. On a grander scale, each individual made up the strength of the Empire of Britannia. He understood the motivations of her father and those who were likely a part of some cell of Isa loyalists. They were being loyal to the person they thought was the proper leader. Darrel disagreed vehemently and would make that abundantly clear.

“One boy, and he’s with your father. Where?”

She gave him an address without hesitation, and he memorized it.

“Come with me.” He gestured but didn’t touch her to help her up. “Everything’s going to be okay now, Dalia. You have my word.”

He led her out of the office to find Sergeant O’Kieran waiting for them. Darrel stepped over and whispered to Ayda, giving her a summary of what he knew. Darrel asked for a doctor to check Dalia, and then for her to be given a room where she could sleep while Darrel retrieved her son.

“Are you sure the governor will be on board with this?” she asked. She wasn’t unwilling to do what Darrel had asked, but it was the governor’s compound, after all.

“I don’t care. If he won’t take care of her, I have other options.”

She nodded and held out a hand to Dalia. “Come on, let’s get you settled.”

* * *

Darrel strode back into the small office and sat down, his mind racing. This wasn’t his problem. He had what he needed. He could turn the information over to the governor and let him handle it. Xavier Isaacson came to mind as someone who probably wouldn’t even bother with it. But Darrel wasn’t Xavier.

Still, based on what he had learned from Dalia and Nassor, the building they lived in with her father, who had her son, was not a place Darrel would be welcomed.

“Are you getting soft, Darrel? Can’t let one person go to save a system?” he asked himself.

He couldn’t ask the Marines for help, as that would create an incident. Going alone was dangerous, even for someone with his skills. It was a large apartment block, with a lot of floors and a lot of doors, which meant an infinite number of possible ambush spots.

He mulled over the situation until there was a single knock on the door, and Ayda opened it and poked her head in. “Have a minute?”

“Sure. Come on in.”

“Listen, I’m sorry for doubting you. I guess having a woman to talk to was something she needed. She broke down as soon as I got her into the room, and… you did the right thing.”

“Thank you. I’m glad you understand.”

“What are you going to do about her son?”

Darrel sighed. “Exactly the problem I’m trying to solve. I’m only one man, and good at what I do, but infiltrating a building that size, without getting caught, and with no intelligence, is a pretty big ask. Especially when you add in trying to egress with a small child in tow.” He shook his head. “I don’t see a way to do it.”

Ayda sat and slumped back into the chair. “Neither do I. And we Marines can’t get involved.”

“No, you can’t. My fear is these people would have no problem using a child as leverage to get what they want.”

“You think they’d go that far?”

“Never underestimate the cruelty of your enemy. Assume they’ll do worse than you can imagine in your nightmares.”

After a few more moments, he shook his head. “There’s nothing I can do. I have too many other things to think about right now. I’ll be going out of the city tonight, and I’ll stop by to see some people who might be able to help.”

He saw her about to ask who and held up his hand. “The less you know, the better.”

“One day, I hope I can get the full story.”

Darrel chuckled. “I doubt that will ever happen. Once I leave this system, I was never here,” he said and stood. “I need to get a nap and get ready. I’ll be gone for a few days, maybe weeks. And don’t bother asking where I’m going.”

“I wouldn’t dare,” she said and grinned.

“You’re learning,” he said, patted her shoulder as he walked past her and went back to his room.

* * *

He slept for a few hours and then got himself ready. He showered and got into his stealth suit, over which he put on some local clothing. It would be dark, so he wasn’t worried about camouflaging his skin. The clothes would be enough. He also shouldered a pack that looked more worn and torn up than it was. He’d taken his standard field pack and wrapped it with rags to disguise it.

Darrel slipped out of the compound without a word to anyone and was on his way to his first destination. He took a roundabout course through the city, ultimately entering the tunnels that led to the slums and the resistance element there.

As he approached the hatch that would get him in, two armed guards confronted him. One of them recognized him and let him through. Ten minutes later, Ari and Kafele sat at a table in the room they’d used before and looked at him expectantly.

“I need your help with something, if you’re willing. This isn’t mission critical, but it’s something I can’t let stand.”

“If it’s in my power, I’ll make it happen. What is it?” Kafele asked.

Darrel explained the situation regarding Dalia and her child. It was a cheap tactic, but he disclosed a good bit about her treatment, which earned him the sympathetic and angry looks he had expected.

“What about the two who helped you get me out?” Ari asked.

“They’re unavailable,” Darrel answered, not wanting to go through explaining that. He needed to remain calm and focused.

“That’s a large building, and probably with a lot of people to protect it. It’s more of a stronghold than an apartment building, I’d imagine. Especially now.”

Darrel raised an eyebrow. He agreed it wouldn’t be a simple operation.

Kafele shook his head. “In this case, it seems I have intelligence you don’t. Retired military live in that apartment block and most of the surrounding ones, which means their sons are probably current military.”

Darrel frowned as he looked at the satellite view of the area on the wall-mounted screen. “That seems… odd.”

“That’s where they’re comfortable. Not too high society, and not too low. They tend to stick together, even after they retire, and those who were of age to retire and live there were a part of getting Isa into power, or they supported it. Anyone who didn’t, didn’t survive.”

Darrel had a mental image of a strike leveling the entire area, but he knew there would be innocents there as well. “What if I can upgrade your weapons?”

“How would you do that?”

“That’s one of the questions I can’t answer, but let’s say I could provide you with… hmm…twenty sets of light body armor and modern rifles.”

“Is this a bargain? We get the gear if we rescue the boy?”

Darrel shook his head. “You’re getting the gear either way. You’ll need it for the final act. This is more of a favor. It’s something I wish I could do myself, but it’s too risky, and I have larger targets to concern myself with.”

Kafele looked at Ari, who nodded. “Okay, looks like we’re in.”

“Good. I don’t know exactly how I’m going to get the delivery here yet. I still have to figure that out, but I’ll get it taken care of.”

“We might be able to help you with it if transportation is an issue.”

“Really?” Darrel asked. “Tell me.”

Over the next hour, they talked about logistics, and it turned out this simple cell of resistance fighters in the slums of the capital would likely be the key to the entire operation from this point forward.

* * * * *

Chapter Twenty-Three

A day later, thanks to transport provided by what Darrel thought of as the “city cell,” he walked up to the “resort cell,” or Maria’s camp. As soon as he arrived, one of the gate guards called out, “Snake’s back!”

The camp looked half abandoned, but those who were still there looked up from what they were doing or emerged from their makeshift huts. He nodded and greeted each of them as he passed until a trio came up to meet him on the path.

Maria and Mohammed, he recognized immediately, and then as they got closer, he finally recognized the third. Rehema, but she was no longer in form-fitting clothes that left little to the imagination. Now she was in fatigues and body armor. Body armor he recognized. Mina and Shane must have made the delivery before they were hit.

She saw the surprise on his face and grinned. “I have more skills than you think, Snake.”

Darrel nodded. “Apparently so, and that’s good.”

“We’ve already started moving the camp, little by little,” Maria said.

“Good. I’ve got your target for you, so you can start planning what you’ll be able to do.”

“Okay, let’s go take a look,” Maria said, and she and Mohammed led the way to where her office still stood.

Rehema fell back and matched pace with Snake. “I think I know you well enough to know you won’t talk about it. But if you ever need to, my ears and shoulder are just as good as the rest of me. And if you need the rest, well, that’s open to you as well.”

Darrel nodded. “Thanks, Rehema. Really. For now, I just need to focus on the mission.”

“I understand,” she said and walked beside him the rest of the way.

Once secluded in Maria’s office, Darrel pulled up a map on their terminal. “Your first goal will be to eliminate any military presence at the resort. I don’t want them using the guests as hostages, because that’s what those guards are there for.”

They all nodded, having come to the same conclusion.

“Rehema, how sympathetic do you believe the staff and owners will be?”

She shrugged. “The owners are off-worlders. I’m not even sure who they are. They bought it and turned it over to a local management company to run. They just collect the profits. As for the management company,” she continued before Darrel asked, “they manage from a distance. The people who are there haven’t chosen a side, or they don’t know they need to, but they aren’t comfortable with the military presence. I’m not sure whether it’s because it bothers the guests, or they don’t like it personally.”

“It’s a perfect position to set up. Defensible and solid,” Maria said.

“And an easy target for an air strike,” Darrel said.

“Well, your friends delivered some anti-air. I think it should be enough if we allocate it properly,” Mohammed said.

Darrel didn’t show his surprise. He hadn’t recalled that there were anti-air assets in the cache, and he wondered why Mina and Shane hadn’t used it themselves. He shook the image of the destroyed camp out of his head, then nodded to Mohammed. “Good. Let’s go over what you have and plan for you to take that as your headquarters as quietly as possible. You want it to look like business as usual.”

They spent the rest of the day planning, and that evening, after dinner, Darrel found himself in Rehema’s room and her bed. But it wasn’t for sex, not this time. They lay together, and he held her, and she held him, and they slept. They both needed the comfort of a night like that before everything kicked off.

* * *

Two weeks later, Darrel sat in Michelle Montane’s office on the Imperial orbital over Aswan and discussed the final stages of planning. Everything had gone relatively well so far.

The city cell had retrieved Dalia’s son and delivered him to his mother. They had used sleepy darts, courtesy of the ImpSec cache, so no lives had been lost on either side. Following Darrel’s instructions, the cell had retrieved the darts, so Isa’s people could assume all day long who’d done it, but there would be no evidence pointing back to Britannia.

The resort cell had lined up their assault and was waiting for his go-ahead to take over the resort. As soon as they made their move, Isa would find out, if for no other reason than because the guards would cease reporting in. Some of the members, assisted by Rehema, had already made it onto the property, though, and were staying in unused rooms. It turned out the management was not only agreeable, but willing to help. So, they were already setting up under the noses of the guards, which seemed to give Maria a sense of satisfaction.

Darrel had also successfully contacted the three previously identified camps, and it turned out they were in better shape than the rest. Some of them had retired military personnel in their ranks, and in one case, current military, which gave Darrel and the rest of the five-cell network a better chance of success. Using the communication equipment Darrel had provided, the cells were now connected and could communicate via the satellite network Michelle had created. Several of them would send teams to liberate lightly guarded reeducation camps, adding more fuel to the flames, in addition to the other relatively minor tasks Snake had assigned them.

“All the pieces are in place,” Darrel said.

“I’ve looked over your plan, and aside from the fact that it counts on everything going exactly as planned, I can’t find any flaws,” Michelle said.

That, Darrel considered, was about as good as it got. If Michelle couldn’t find any significant flaws in the plan, then it had a chance of success.

“The only thing I noticed was, you didn’t outline exactly how you’re going to get Isa out of power. You’ll take down a lot of his ability to react, but react to what?”

“Anything. Everything,” Darrel said. “I’m counting on the fact that he’ll panic, and people will notice. Once a few groups start speaking up and not getting cut down, thanks to the efforts I’ve put in place, more will rise. There’s only one major question I haven’t figured out an answer for.”

“Who will take his place?”

Darrel nodded. “Exactly that. He’s purged any high-ranking players who might make a move from the inside. And the worst thing we could do is to leave them rudderless.”

“Fortunately, one of us has already thought of that,” Michelle said and smiled.

* * *

Darrel stood in a room at the resort, his arms crossed over his chest, looking between Mohammed, Rehema, and Maria.

“You can’t be serious,” Maria said.

“I’m very serious. We’ve done the research. Hanbal Isa has violated Aswan’s constitutional laws on more than ten occasions that we can prove beyond a shadow of a doubt. I’m sure there will be more once actions start,” Darrel said.

“But me?”

“Yes, you, Maria. You can’t trust anyone who’s currently in office, and every camp I went to has heard of you. Of course, you’ve been in communication with some of them in the past, but others have had a change in leadership. Apparently, you’re some sort of legend, the woman who stands up to Isa and is still free. It would still need to be confirmed by a general election, but our analysts think you have a reasonable chance. In fact, there’s a betting pool going that says no one will even try to run against you, because no one wants to inherit this mess.”

Maria looked at Mohammed and Rehema.

“I’ll back you all the way,” Mohammed said.

Rehema nodded. “Me, too, cousin. I can’t think of anyone I would trust more.”

“Isa won’t let go of power so easily,” Maria said.

“There’s very little in life that’s truly worth having that is ever easy,” Darrel said.

He walked over to the desk and turned on the comm device he’d provided. There was a small hole in the Faraday cage he’d built around the room, comprised of what looked like little more than a series of wires attached to the wall, that allowed the specific wavelength of this comm device to get out and receive, so even electronic eavesdropping on this room would fail. It also meant none of his other comms worked, but it was worth it for security.

Darrel checked the time, and one by one, at the time he had given, each of the cells checked in.

“Thank you all. This is Snake. Status?”

All cells reported ready, willing, and able to execute.

“Maria, the floor is yours,” Darrel said and stepped back, gesturing to the chair as he did so.

She looked at him and didn’t move. “What am I supposed to say?”

“Oh, I should have mentioned. I’ve already talked to all of them. You are the natural choice to take the lead. So lead.”

Darrel smiled and turned. “I have things to attend to. If everything stays on track, we’ll execute in two days. Get them ready.” Without another word, he left the room.

* * *

Soon after, Darrel stood in Governor Cameron’s office,

“I can’t say I’m thrilled with you right now, Snake. It’s not that I disagree; Isa needs to go, but your methods…”

Darrel shrugged. “Honestly, Governor, that doesn’t bother me. Most people never get to see my methods up close, and there’s a reason for that. Now, though, it’s time for you to prepare to do your part in this little play.”

“My part? And what might that be?”

Darrel handed over a prepared tablet, which Cameron took.

“And what’s this?”

“That is the reason behind what is going to happen. Hanbal Isa has violated his own system’s constitution multiple times, and the evidence is right there. It’s best if you don’t ask how my sources obtained the evidence. Some of it is public record; other parts, well…” Darrel shrugged. “This is one of those times when it’s best if you don’t ask questions, because if you ask me now, I’ll answer them.”

Gavin scrolled through the tablet for about ten minutes, then set it down. “You’re right, I was already aware of most of this, though some I only suspected. And you’re also right that I don’t want to know how you got it.”

“Smart move.”

“Do I want to learn what’s next?”

“You need to. In two days, there will be an uprising. The people of Aswan have had enough.” Darrel saw the look on Gavin’s face and raised a hand. “Remember, don’t ask questions you don’t want the answers to. I might give them.”

Gavin nodded and leaned back in his chair.

“All I’ll tell you is there will be people right here in the city speaking up for themselves. Now, I wouldn’t put it past Isa to mow them down with railgun fire. The question you have to ask yourself is whether or not you’re willing to allow the Empire’s subjects to be slaughtered.”

“I can’t appear to have foreknowledge of this,” Gavin said.

“No, you can’t, but rumors do circulate, you know. Things are heard in passing. For example, if someone, say from the Marines, were to go to the shopping district looking for more of those figurines you like so much at noon tomorrow, they might overhear something. Or a few of the servants might have heard something already,” Darrel said with a shrug. “We already know of one group that attempted to hold a child of one of your employees hostage. We, of course, dealt with that.”

“I don’t want to know how,” Gavin muttered.

Darrel walked over to look out a window. “What will you do?”

“Assuming, of course, that something was about to happen, and I was to have any official knowledge of that something, and where it would happen, I might have a response team on standby, given my official knowledge of the president’s treatment of his citizens and those of Britannia. The way he tried to manipulate Chad, for example.”

Darrel grinned, still facing the window so the governor couldn’t see him. The governor had drawn the line on his own. That was good. He felt confident Gavin would do everything within his power, which would be significant if Isa reacted the way Darrel expected he would.

“Very good, Governor. I see we understand each other.”

“We do.”

* * *

Hanbal Isa stormed through the hallways of the palace and shoved the double doors to the conference room open. Waiting for him were his most trusted advisors: Colonel Shakir Hakimi, head of palace security, of course, along with Director Kassab of the Mukhabarat, and several others of lower stature, but with significant influence within the Congress.

“Tell me,” he said without preamble.

“We’ve lost contact with several agents in the field. One we had planted within a resistance cell, but they’ve gone dark. Too dark. I must assume that rebels captured or killed them,” Ahmed said.

Shakir spoke as soon as Ahmed stopped. “Our efforts to locate more of the resistance cells have become more difficult. We’re getting random heat signatures all over the place. Every time we send a team to investigate, it’s a decoy, something to generate a heat bloom, and then either stop or explode. Someone is luring us in with traps.”

The room was silent for a moment, then Athouman Maroun spoke up. “Some in Congress are getting cold feet. They’ve heard rumors of this ‘Snake’ person and are afraid he’ll visit them in their sleep, and they won’t wake up. Some are even closeted to debate impeachment.”

Hanbal fumed. “Then get rid of them!”

Athouman shrank back in his chair but shook his head. “We can’t, President Isa. If we act, it will all be for nothing. Word of it will get out, and it will reach the empress, no matter what measures we take. Legally, if they bring it up, we must consider it.”

“Do we have the votes to kill it?”

“Probably, if some leverage were to be applied. This new player has created a large amount of fear.”

“He’s just one man! How can one man be so scary? Find him and kill him!”

Shakir and Ahmed shared a rare conspiratorial glance. Ahmed nodded, agreeing to take the heat for what he was about to say. “Mr. President, we can’t. All we know is that he is likely from Britannia. Likely, but nothing more. He could walk past the palace right now, and we wouldn’t know it.”

“And that’s what scares them,” Athouman said. “They believe he is nothing less than the wrathful hand of the empress.”

“They should be more afraid of me,” Isa said.

“Perhaps… if you took down another resistance cell, they would cede to your power, but… the optics aren’t good.”

“Optics? I’ll give them optics if that’s what they want,” Isa said and turned to Ahmed. “Work with Shakir. Give him the location where your agent went dark. Level the camp until there is nothing left but sand and glass.”

“It will be as you order,” Ahmed said.

“Good. How soon can a strike be ready?”

“To be effective, we’ll need a day to plan, and it may require moving some assets. We can execute in two days,” Shakir said.

“Good. Do that, and I will address the people again. They will see who rules Aswan.”

* * * * *

Chapter Twenty-Four

The next day was a busy one for Darrel. He spent most of it locked up in the comm room in the governor’s compound, coordinating. The action would start an hour after dawn. The shift change at the reeducation camps happened in the middle of the night, so they would catch the guards midway through a boring shift, possibly even eating breakfast. They would hopefully be complacent. There had once been protests outside the camps, but that had stopped after the guards had made an example of a few of the prisoners. Now, many people were ready to teach them a lesson on the power of numbers.

Maria’s team would take over the resort before dawn to solidify their occupation of the property as her headquarters. They had determined through observation and coordination with the resort staff that before dawn, when the shift changed, all the guards would be in one room for 15 minutes. Maria had already managed—Darrel did not know how—to move some of the anti-air weapons up onto the roof of the resort, far enough back from the edge to be unobservable from the ground. Apparently, the guards never ventured onto the roof. He found that odd and stupid, but he didn’t mind taking advantage of the enemy’s blind spots.

The agents on the orbital had performed some magic and routed satellite imagery of all the target locations through the single secure comm unit set up at the resort, so Maria could see everything. He hadn’t even requested it, but trained personnel knew what field agents needed and provided it without being prompted.

Things looked promising. Several of the camps had increased their numbers in the past two days. With action on the horizon, they had talked to people who had been on the fence, people who weren’t happy with Isa, but not ready to become enemies of the state. Knowing that a rebellion was about to take place had solidified some people’s positions.

It was going to be a bloody day; Darrel recognized that. The fighting would cost lives on both sides. No one would be using sleepy darts for this mission. As he scrolled through the intelligence, he came across the images Hassan Khouri had given him during his first meeting. Darrel had never been able to put the intelligence to use. That was a plan Darrel had had early on, but as with most plans, it hadn’t survived contact with the enemy. He could have gotten into the palace, probably, but once Aswani intelligence had discovered his contact, the odds of success decreased significantly, and the risk outweighed the potential reward of simple infiltration and intelligence. Hassan’s resort intelligence had paid off in spades, though.

The only thing he hadn’t decided was where he would position himself and what he would do. He’d left his options open and had a shuttle on standby. Of course, he would fill the shuttle to capacity with armored Marines from the Empire’s orbital station. He had waved off using the two Marine assault shuttles, as that would look too much like a prepared strike. Of course, Isa and anyone who really looked would understand this was all an orchestrated effort, but why give them anything to point to as proof?

He spent until noon finishing up the plans before he stood and stretched. Everything was as ready as it could be. Darrel needed to get his eyes away from it for a while and let his mind wander. If there were weaknesses, he trusted his intuition would pick up on whatever his conscious mind had missed.

* * *

As soon as Darrel exited the room to head down to the kitchen and scrounge up something to eat, he saw Chad sitting on the ground in the hallway. He scrambled to his feet as Darrel approached.

“I want to help.”

Darrel motioned for him to walk along with him and raised an eyebrow. “With what?”

“Oh, come on, you know what,” he said. Chad exuded a confidence Darrel hadn’t seen before.

“What’s gotten into you?” Darrel asked as they descended to the main floor and headed toward the kitchen.

“I’ve had a lot of time to think. I blamed myself for what happened to Ari, but it wasn’t my fault. It was Isa, not me.”

“I’m glad you finally got there,” Darrel said, “and sooner than I expected.”

“Well, I guess it took being scared to death to make me realize maybe I can do more than sit behind a desk.”

“You’ve been talking to Sergeant O’Kieran,” Darrel said.

“Yeah. Maybe I have.”

Darrel nodded. “Nothing wrong with that. O’Kieran is a good Marine, and she’s been there for you when you needed it.”

“Ayda has,” Chad whispered, then his voice grew stronger again. “She’s made me realize I can’t just sit back and watch. I’ve even filled out an application to Imperial Security. Maybe I can do something there.”

Darrel pushed the door to the kitchen open and held it for Chad, then walked in behind him.

“Ah, Mister Snake. We thought you might be getting hungry,” Dalia said and smiled brightly. She pointed to a large tray with a dome on a small two-seat side table in the kitchen. “I wanted to thank you for everything you did for me and my son, so I prepared something for you.”

Darrel, not one to turn down a good meal, walked over and lifted the cover. The aroma struck him, and he was suddenly hungrier than he had been before. “Smells wonderful. Thank you, Dalia, but I didn’t do all that much.”

“I knew you would say that, but that is your nature. To do for others without consideration of yourself. Please, enjoy,” she said and left the kitchen, now empty other than Darrel and Chad.

Darrel shrugged and sat, gesturing to the other chair. “Sit. Excuse me for eating alone, but it’s been a long morning.”

Chad sat and shrugged. “That’s fine. I already ate, anyway. So, what do you think?”

Darrel took his first bite and nodded. “It’s very good.”

“Not about the food. About me applying to Imperial Security.”

“Honestly, Chad? I think it’s a mistake. Your sensibilities are a little too… well-shaped. Imperial Security spends a lot of time coloring outside the lines. You’ve spent your life learning how to draw those lines. You should focus your efforts on learning from what happened here and carry that forward in your career.”

Darrel continued to eat and saw the disappointment on Chad’s face. He knew it wasn’t what the young man had wanted to hear, but Darrel had made a habit of saying exactly what he thought, adding in what he judged would serve someone the best.

“But… sitting behind a desk and talking does nothing useful. I used to think it would, but it takes people like you to make things happen.”

Darrel set his fork down and laughed. “Is that really what you think?”

Chad looked shocked at Darrel’s sudden laughter.

“Who has the most power in the Empire?” Darrel asked, catching Chad off guard.

“Well… the empress, of course.”

“Is she out here carrying a rifle?”

“Of course not!”

“And where do you think she spends most of her time? I’d wager it’s behind a desk,” Darrel said and resumed eating.

“That’s not fair. I’m never going to be the ruler of an entire empire, or even a system. That’s different.”

“Is it? Or is it simply a smaller sphere of influence?” Darrel asked, then glanced around to ensure they were still alone. “With the stroke of a pen, the empress could remove this system from the Empire. Cut them off completely. Ruin them. Instead, I’m here. Why do you think that is?”

To his credit, Darrel thought, Chad didn’t blurt out an answer. He sat back, rubbed his chin, and considered the question and his answer. By the time Chad looked up, Darrel had finished his meal and pushed back from the table to stretch out his legs.

“Because she cares about the people. It’s not just about the system, it’s about the people who live in it,” Chad said.

Darrel nodded. “That’s my estimation, as well. I mean, we’ll never know the mind of the empress, but I have to think that’s a logical answer. Do you know what a huge part of this will be after tomorrow?”

Chad shook his head.

“Diplomacy. Solidifying relations with a new government. I’d think you’d want to be involved with that, not crawling around in the mud. Plus, once someone joins Imperial Security, they give up their lives. You could forget seeing Ari for months, perhaps years at a time. It’s no different from being in the Navy in that respect, except you wouldn’t be able to send or receive messages of any kind. No contact with anyone outside the agency when you’re on a mission. At least the Navy gets that.”

Chad nodded, not having thought it through. “What about you?”

“Me?” Darrel asked, wiping his mouth with a cloth napkin and standing.

“What will you be doing?” Chad asked.

“I’ll be where I’m needed.”

“Coordinating everything from here?”

Darrel patted Chad on the shoulder as they left the kitchen. “No. Don’t worry about where I’ll be. My part in all this is pretty much over. I’ve nudged all the pieces into place. Now, the people of Aswan have to stand up on their own and do what needs to be done.”

“Why do I think it’s not quite that simple?”

“Because nothing worth doing is simple. Now, I need to get some rest. I have to be up very early, and it’s going to be a long day. Talk to the governor; he knows what to do. Tell him you want to be a part of it, and I’m sure he’ll find something for you to do.”

Darrel walked up the stairs, leaving Chad looking up after him. The change in Chad impressed Darrel. Chad had grown up, overcome his fears, and was looking into the future. Sometimes, it took the worst situations to bring out the best in someone.

As he had done many times over his career, he went into his room, locked the door, got his bag and gear ready, and lay down to sleep, knowing the next day would be the most strenuous of any since he arrived.

* * *

Darrel’s eyes snapped open, and he took time to stretch before he donned his stealth suit. It always took a few minutes to settle into all the right places. He used that time to do one more check of his weapons. This time, he would carry several. One pistol loaded with sleepy darts, though that one wouldn’t get much use today. The others, a pulse rifle and two pistols, would be his weapons of choice. One strapped to the front of his suit on the left, so it would be easy to draw. The second pistol strapped to the small of his back, a holdout weapon of last resort, though he doubted there would be any kind of drawn-out standoffs today. He also had an assortment of knives around his person, because sometimes even the sound of a body falling was too loud.

His comm vibrated as he walked out the door, drawing his attention.

R

It was only a single letter, R for Resort. Maria’s force had taken the resort. He didn’t care how they had done it, but it indicated mission accomplished. The first of many. Now they had a solidified headquarters, and they would reinforce it however they could.

Darrel walked downstairs and toward the rear entrance of the compound. Gunnery Sergeant Hunt stood by the door, waiting for him.

“You’re up early, Gunny.”

“I could say the same to you.”

Darrel shrugged. “I think it’s a nice morning for a walk.”

The gunny looked over Darrel’s suit. “Nice. Are they as effective as the rumors?”

“Now, Gunny, you don’t pay attention to rumors, do you?”

Hunt chuckled and shrugged. “Sometimes it’s the most reliable source of intelligence.”

“Valid point,” Darrel said, still not answering his question.

“Well, whatever else it does, I hope it keeps you alive,” he said and opened the door for Darrel. “Good hunting. The motion sensor lighting is offline for five minutes, and there’s an aircar with a malfunctioning transponder outside the gate,” he said and hit a switch on the wall. “Maintenance seems to be slacking off.”

Darrel nodded and slipped out into the darkness, becoming one with it and disappearing from sight as soon as he left the light cast by the open door. The aircar was a nice touch.

* * *

Darrel drove the air car nap-of-the-earth out to the reeducation camp to avoid detection. He landed some distance away from the rally point for the resistance group, then made his way over. Darrel had little doubt there would be detection devices, but in this case, it turned out he was incorrect in his assumption. Apparently, Isa’s people thought the previous show of force would still be memorable enough to keep people away. Even better.

He approached the group of about twenty men and women, all armed and armored with gear provided by the ImpSec cache. He could have snuck up on them, but that was a good way to get shot, as on edge as they no doubt were. Darrel removed his helmet and walked toward the group, calling out as he approached, “It’s Snake. What’s your status?”

Half of them kept their rifles trained on him until one man stepped forward. “It’s him. Put your damn guns down,” a man, obviously the leader, said as he approached and shook Darrel’s hand. “Didn’t expect to see you out here. I’m Gyasi.”

“Maria’s already taken her headquarters, no problems,” Darrel said.

Gyasi nodded. “I got the message, and we’ve already been in contact. But there’s a problem here we weren’t expecting.”

“There usually is,” Darrel said and walked with him to the edge of a dune, dropping to his belly to crawl up to the edge beside Gyasi. The system’s star had just begun to peek over the horizon in front of them. That was deliberate. The worst thing they could have done would be to put the star behind them and get silhouetted.

Once they were in position, Gyasi handed him a spotter’s scope. “Take a look for yourself. Maybe you have an idea.”

Darrel looked through the eyepiece and focused on the camp. “Well, that’s unexpected,” he muttered. The guard force was double what they’d expected, and they were conducting what looked like a search and clear operation. Even in the breaking dawn, spotlights combed the area outside the camp. Had someone escaped? Or could it be an exercise? He had no answers, and that bothered him. This wasn’t a mission they could scrub. They were in the middle of a desert area, where assorted sand dunes worked in their favor, but not if Isa’s people were on alert. Engineers had designed Darrel’s stealth suit for night operations, and the black did little to camouflage him against sand.

“Hmm… and who’s this then?” Darrel asked himself as a shuttle made an approach and landed in front of the camp. The single person who walked down the lowered ramp of the shuttle wore a spotless uniform with plenty of decorations, not the combat armor of a soldier. So, a high-ranking officer of some sort. “Any idea who that is?” Darrel asked and handed the scope over.

Gyasi lifted the scope to his eyes and whistled low. “That’s Ahmed Kassab, director of the Mukhabarat.”

“Oh, this keeps getting better!” Darrel grinned. Even without the scope, he could see the searchlights turn off, and the guards went back into the camp. “They must have been making sure the landing area was clear. A bit paranoid, is he?”

“No one knows much about him. But they’re clearing back inside the gates, that’s for sure.”

“Get ready to move. This is our chance, and if we can take him alive…”

They slid back down from the edge of the dune, and Gyasi gathered his troops, because no matter how rag-tag they looked, that was what they were. Darrel knew at least half of this particular group were veterans.

“It’s time to move, and there’s a bonus. Kassab is there,” Gyasi said. The revelation earned growls from some, and an amused chuckle from several of those Darrel felt sure wouldn’t mind a few minutes alone with the director.

“I want him alive and as unharmed as possible,” Darrel said. “That’s a preference, so don’t risk your life for it. If you have to take him down, do it.”

That addition earned him several looks of approval and nods from the people he could tell by their stances were used to being in the desert in body armor and holding a rifle. They knew Darrel didn’t expect them to risk their lives to take a prisoner, which was precisely what Kassab would demand if his intelligence was right, and it usually was.

“Must be an inspection,” one of the men Darrel identified as a veteran said. “The sweep makes sense. He’s so full of himself, he’ll think the mere presence of his personal shuttle will keep the camp secure. Colonel Hakimi is probably swearing a blue streak up and down the halls of the palace right about now.”

It didn’t impact the mission at the moment, but that last tidbit was an interesting bit of knowledge. “Why’s that?” Darrel asked.

“There’s always been a power struggle over who owns the camps. Kassab thinks it’s firmly in the intelligence realm, while Hakimi sees them as a military operation, since they’re his guards. Isa is doubtless getting an earful right about now.”

“Good. Might not be the last thing in his ear today,” Darrel said, earning some grunts of approval. “It’s your show. If there’s something specific you think I can do, tell me. If you want me to stay out of the way, tell me. Otherwise, I’ll… do what I do. That shuttle might just be our opportunity to make today a lot more impactful than we expected.”

“It’ll have clearance pretty much anywhere,” a woman said, “as long as they don’t lock the code bank.” Darrell recognized her as one of the cell’s pilots.

Darrel waved a hand to dismiss that concern. “If there’s a computer, and it’s locked, I’ll unlock it.”

“The shuttle is an unknown,” Gyasi said. “Can you take control if I give you a few to back you up?”

Darrel shrugged. “Keep your people. A shuttle is a nice, small, confined environment. My kind of place to work.” He knew the pilot, the copilot, and an extra person or two were probably still on the shuttle, but he doubted any of them could take him alone.

“Okay, as soon as we crest this dune, we’ll be in visual range if anyone is looking, so move fast and random, just like we practiced it,” Gyasi said to his team. “Move out.”

The group scattered and made their way over the dune, fanning out to cover a wider approach vector. Darrel saw him trigger the comm unit with a few taps and then close it up again as protection from the sand, which would get anywhere and everywhere if allowed. He noticed Darrel watching him and winked. “Two more teams on the north and south sides, about the same size, will move in as well. We’ll all meet at the gate, and I’ll pass the order concerning Kassab along.”

Darrel nodded and settled his helmet on his head. “Let’s get this done.”

* * * * *

Chapter Twenty-Five

The assault was fast, impressing Darrel. He followed Gyasi down the hill, shocked when not a single alarm sounded nor was a shot fired. He left Gyasi to lead his team and moved ahead of them with practiced ease as he activated the functions of his suit, one of which was to keep him cool against the growing heat. Each minute the sun rose, it felt like the temperature increased by several degrees. Now, Darrel was glad he’d brought the sleepy darts. If he could keep at least the pilot alive, getting to where he wanted to would be that much easier.

Damn, they’re a cocky bunch. Time to make them pay for their arrogance, Darrel thought as he drew his pistol and slid in front of the ramp to the shuttle. One of the two guards posted there saw him but had no time to react. Both were stationary targets, and armor did not cover their arms, so they both got two sleepy darts and hit the deck. Darrel turned and gave Gyasi a thumbs up before he crept up the ramp and relieved the guards of their weapons, tossing them out of the shuttle onto the sand. Limb shots were against every bit of training any soldier got, but if you were an excellent shot, and your subject was stationary, it was a suitable target.

He looked out to see Gyasi and his team already at work, cutting the fence with plasma cutters, which cut through the thin wire mesh like a hot knife through butter. Satisfied that part of the operation was proceeding, and there were oddly still no alarms, Darrel made his way forward. The interior of the shuttle was like a command center, with two rows of three comfortable seats down the center. A command shuttle.

As he moved closer to the door to the cockpit, he heard local music blasting and rolled his eyes. These people had never landed in a hot LZ, and of course, this wasn’t supposed to be one, but still, they should practice some measure of security. Carefully, he tried the door, but it was locked. He pressed himself against the bulkhead beside the door and banged on the door with his fist.

“One minute,” a voice said, and the music stopped.

One minute turned into two, and Darrel was about to retrieve a small breaching charge from his pack, but the door flew open. The man’s eyes widened in surprise, and Darrel struck him in the throat with the edge of his flattened hand. Not hard enough to kill him, but hard enough to make him stagger back, gasping for air. He shoved the man further into the cockpit and put the barrel of his pistol against the back of the head of the other, who must be the copilot, in the right seat.

“Stay quiet, touch nothing, and you might survive to see tomorrow. Clear?”

The person in the other seat, whom he could see now was a woman, nodded quickly and held her hands up and away from the control panel. The man, now sitting on the deck between the seats, nodded and held up a hand, still holding his throat with the other.

“You,” he said, tapping the woman’s head with the barrel, “get up and stand in the doorway. Don’t make a sound.”

She did as ordered and stood in the doorway, with her hands clasped behind her back, as if waiting to be restrained.

Darrel looked down at the man, who was now gagging. “Don’t be such a baby. That was barely a tap. Now you can get up and move, or I’ll drag your ass.”

He tried to get to his feet but stumbled and fell back to his knees. He finally took his hand away from his throat and crawled up behind the woman.

“Both of you, five steps forward, then take a seat. Madam, you in the front row. Crybaby in the back row, center seat. Touch nothing, or I swear you’ll regret being born.”

They both made it to their seats. She buckled in and rested her hands in her lap, almost too calmly for Darrel’s liking. The man, finally getting some control over his breathing, struggled into the chair, buckled himself in, and hung his head.

Darrel leaned back against the bulkhead, still not removing his helmet. He found that sometimes the mystery of looking at a faceless, solid black suit itself could be intimidating, even if he didn’t move. “What makes you so calm and confident?”

The woman looked up at him, estimating where his eyes would be, and said, “Because when Director Hakimi returns, he will take you, and you will be the one regretting being born.”

“Ahh, a genuine believer. Well, I’m afraid the rest of your life will be filled with disappointment, my dear.”

At that moment, the sound of pulse rifles firing started, and didn’t stop for the next ten minutes. To her credit, she never looked away. She simply stared at him, content in the knowledge that she was right.

The man, on the other hand, looked like he was about to turn into an actual baby, the way he was ducking down, as if trying to avoid being shot.

“Looks like I had it backward. Maybe you’re the pilot, and the baby there is the copilot?”

“No, I am a woman and do not deserve the position of pilot. I am honored to have a position at all. I would be content waiting in Director Kassab’s bed.”

“Deities, you’re completely brainwashed, aren’t you?” Darrel asked and shook his head sadly. Then it hit him why it had taken longer to get the door open, and he scowled. He almost asked, but he really didn’t want to know, because if he did, it would take significant self-restraint not to shoot the pilot in the balls on the spot.

Darrel waited and wondered if it was possible to deprogram women like her at all. Then he decided that it wasn’t his problem. Her upbringing had likely shaped her thinking from birth, and he pitied her.

Then he heard shouts, not of anger, but of celebration, and grinned. Above the shouts, a loud, angry voice broke through the chaos, barking orders. “Get your hands off me, you filth! Who do you think you are?”

The woman’s eyes went wide. She recognized the voice, which had to mean…

“I warned you,” Darrel said.

“Got a present for you, Snake,” Gyasi said and shoved the man he and four others were wrangling forward. His hands restrained behind his back, the man lost his balance and fell flat on his face.

The woman unbuckled herself and jumped to her feet, only to find Darrel’s pistol buried in the valley between her breasts, pushing her back to her seat using the barrel of the gun. “Sit down,” he hissed through the speakers of his helmet.

She looked up at him, this time with fear in her eyes. “You… you’re the one they call Snake? But you’re dead!”

“The rumors of my death have been greatly exaggerated. Now buckle yourself in.”

Kassab rolled to his side and struggled to sit up on his knees. Blood ran down his chin from a busted lip, and he glared at Darrel. “So, you’re the infamous Snake. And what will you do now, hmmm? You have a group of tired, weak prisoners and a few of what seem to be healthy individuals. You will die before darkness falls.”

Darrel removed his helmet and smiled. “I expect you’ll find your predictive abilities are far from the facts, Director,” Darrel said, spitting out the man’s title like poison on the tongue.

“Justice says I should turn you over to the people you’ve tortured and let them have their turn with you.”

“It was… difficult to stop that from happening. Somehow, even in here, they’d found out about you, and we spread the word you wanted him alive,” Gyasi said.

“Huh. I guess your guards gossip like little girls, even in front of the people they’re supposed to be guarding,” Darrel said and chuckled. What he felt like doing was kicking the man’s teeth out, but it was time to put on a show.

“We’re still getting everyone loose and getting them food and water,” Gyasi said. “Some are too weak to even move from their beds.”

Kassab spat blood on the deck and snarled. “Oh, you will die. Not even you are untouchable. What are you, anyway? Marine? Imperial Security? Navy special operator?”

Darrel pursed his lips, then looked Kassab in the eyes. “I’m your worst nightmare.”

* * *

Darrel pointed his gun at the woman’s head. “What was your next destination?” he asked her.

“Tell him nothing,” Kassab barked.

She looked up at Darrel defiantly and said nothing.

Darrel shrugged and turned to look at Gyasi. “Kill him.”

Gyasi put the barrel of his pulse rifle against Kassab’s temple, and the woman shrieked, “No! You can’t! I’ll tell you anything! Please!”

“Shut up, woman! You’ll tell them nothing! Let them kill me. President Isa will hang their hides to tan by dark.”

“Back to the palace. Our orders were to fly here to check on things, and then back to the palace. Please, don’t hurt him.”

“You see, Kassab. This is where your brainwashing works against you. You’ve made her put so much value on your life, she won’t risk it even if you order her to,” Darrel said, then turned back to the woman. “Can you fly without your pilot? Do you have all the necessary clearance codes to land at the palace?”

“Don’t touch the flight controls, or the curse of the pharaohs will be upon you.”

She looked conflicted. Her eyes jumped between Darrel and Kassab.

“Now you broke her,” Darrel said and put a sleepy dart into her neck. “It’s okay, we don’t need her.” For good measure, he shot the pilot as well to knock him out.

“I wondered how you managed it,” Kassab said. “Some kind of tranquilizer. Even our analysts couldn’t figure it out.”

“That’s because I’m better than you or your analysts,” Darrel said and walked into the cockpit. “Find me a pilot,” he called out.

“Weak! That’s what you are. We don’t bother with such things. If I point a gun at someone, they die!”

Darrel considered for a moment and grinned. That was intelligence he didn’t have, but that was very useful. That meant if they used Kassab as a human shield, no one would shoot for fear of killing him. If they used something like sleepy darts, they could spray the area, take everyone down, and detain his team while freeing Kassab. He thought about gloating but decided not to reveal that he hadn’t already known that.

He looked around the cockpit. The design was different, but he recognized the basic controls. In a pinch, he could fly it, but he preferred to stick to what he knew and let experts do what they were trained for.

Darrel left the cockpit and found a refreshment center in one of the recesses along the bulkhead. He got water for himself, Gyasi, and the other guards standing watch at the ramp, then sat in one of the comfortable seats, smiled at Kassab, and waited.

When Darrel was sipping on his second cup of ice water, an older man walked up the ramp and talked quietly with Gyasi.

The man walked over to Darrel and stood at attention. “I understand we have you to thank for all this. I’m Osaze, and I have over six hundred hours in this shuttle type. Just tell me what you need.”

“Here’s what I have in mind…”

* * *

Darrel rose and followed the pilot into the cockpit. He took a few moments to look over everything before he slid into the pilot’s seat and grinned up at Darrel.

“I thought I’d never get to do this again. It’s like coming home.”

Darrel nodded. “Everything look okay?”

The pilot tapped one empty data port, then a second, out of a row of four. The first and third slots. “Missing the clearance chips. One unlocks the navigation system; one activates the transponder signal. Otherwise, it broadcasts a ‘stolen’ squawk and gets shot down a few minutes after takeoff.”

“That seems a bit much,” Darrel said.

“Military shuttles are like that. Someone built this one for the director’s personal use, though pretty much all their shuttles have these security features. They don’t even trust each other.”

“Okay, where would they be? I hope someone stored them where they’re easily accessible.”

“The pilot and copilot would each have one on their person. You found the cabin door locked when you came in, right? I assume it was you who took the shuttle?”

“It was. Unfortunately for them, they didn’t check my identity. They heard a loud pounding and what sounded like an angry man, and opened up.”

“Well, no one said the deities granted everyone a brain. They’ll have them on them somewhere,” Osaze said and stood back up. “Once we find them, we’ll see what’s next.”

Darrel nodded and led the way back into the cabin. Knowing the proprieties of the system—the way they were before Isa, when men had treated women with respect—he pointed to the male pilot. “Take him, I’ll check her.”

“Thank you,” Osaze said, sounding relieved.

“Have to molest an unconscious woman to get your thrills?” Kassab said.

Darrel searched the woman’s pockets—of which the pilot’s suit had many—and ultimately found it in one of her breast pockets, because of course it was. He thought of several retorts for the man he saw as the former director of the Mukhabarat, but decided letting him stew would be more amusing.

“You will hang for this!” Kassab shouted at Darrel’s back as he followed Osaze, who had also found what he was looking for, back into the cockpit.

Osaze turned the chips in his fingers, looking at them carefully, one at a time.

“Expecting a trap or a dud?”

“With the Mukhabarat, always expect a trap,” Osaze stated as if it were a common saying in the system.

“Looks clean, but you might want to evac while I power up, just in case.”

Darrel waved his hand. “Just do it.”

He moved to slot the first chip, then paused and looked up at Darrel. “Why are you doing this?”

“Well, if we can get into the capital—”

Osaze waved his hand to cut Darrel off. “I understand that, but I mean all of this. You’re not from here. Why are you risking your life for us?”

“Because that’s my job. Now let’s get going. This is an unplanned advantage I don’t want to lose the window on.”

“It’s more than that, but I’ll accept that for now,” Osaze said as he started the power-up process on the shuttle. “Get everyone strapped in. This should be smooth, but…” He shrugged. “There’s always the chance there are verbal orders I’m not aware of.”

* * *

Michelle Montane stood in the center of her office and watched the large screen, showing the movements across the planet. It looked like such little activity, but she understood that every piece would make a significant impact in the end if everything went according to plan. Of course, nothing ever went completely according to plan, but Darrel had a way of making things work out. Or maybe the fates just wove a path for him. No one really knew; they just knew that when given a mission, Darrel Atwater would get it done one way or another.

“Looks like a strike team leaving the airfield just outside the capital,” one of her analysts said.

“Get a fix on their probable destination as soon as you can,” Michelle said without looking away from the screen, now updated with the new information.

“Flash message from Snake,” another analyst said, sounding excited. “Change in plans, he’s… you will not believe this.”

“I bet I will. What has he done now?”

A small white icon appeared on the large screen and crept toward the capital. “He’s captured Director Kassab and is using his shuttle to infiltrate the capitol grounds.”

“Well, that makes sense,” Michelle said and nodded. She didn’t show that in this case, Darrel had indeed surprised her. Sometimes circumstances happened, and things dropped on your head; other times, they dropped in front of you like a gift. And Darrel Atwater was not a man to give up a gift. She couldn’t wait to hear the story behind how that had happened, but now wasn’t the time.

“Looks like someone is directing the strike team toward the resort.”

“Or the old camp,” another analyst said. “Isn’t that the one where he caught the spy?”

“Warn the resort about incoming. Have them hunker down,” Michelle said. “Even if they’re off to strike the old camp, they might do a flyover. They need to stay quiet on those guns unless there’s an actual threat.”

* * * * *

Chapter Twenty-Six

Using tunnels and alleys, the resistance group under Kafele’s guidance, with Ari by his side, assembled from every direction until there was a mob of them in front of the main gates to the capitol grounds and the palace. The palace guards took notice.

“Disperse now!” a voice from an amplified speaker system repeated.

Ari stepped forward, chosen to be the voice of the crowd, and responded using his own bullhorn-type system. “We are here to demand the rights of the people of Aswan. You take our sons, our daughters, our wives, our husbands, and steal them away without trial or due process! We demand President Hanbal Isa step down and stand trial for crimes against the system!”

The surrounding crowd cheered. No, Ari thought, not a cheer, a roar of frustration and anger. One that said these people were tired of Isa and his regime and were ready to do something about it.

Before they had come out, Ari and Kafele had had a long discussion about the timing. They had to decide whether the timing was right or if it was just because Snake had made it feel right. There was little doubt Snake could be a manipulator, but in the end, they agreed it was time, and having someone like Snake in their corner had indeed contributed.

“Disperse now, or we will disperse you!” a voice commanded through the loudspeaker. Definitely not a recording this time.

“I think that’s a nice way of saying they’re going to shoot us,” Ari said.

Kafele nodded and said, “I believe you’re right.” He nodded his head toward an armored vehicle that had rounded the corner and was slowly creeping toward them.

“Time to start the fireworks?”

“Almost.”

* * *

“We got everyone out, right?” Maria asked for probably the third time, as more rockets exploded in the distance, the plumes of smoke visible from their perch on the roof of the resort.

“Yes, and stop asking. It’s getting annoying, cousin,” Rehema said.

Maria nodded and watched. It didn’t matter. Only empty shacks and splintered walls remained of what had once been their camp.

“Don’t you worry, girl, they’ll come for you eventually. You’re going to pay for this,” a man in an Aswani guard uniform said.

Rehema slapped Achraf Asghar across the face, not for the first time, and he spat blood from his cut lip.

“Division 3-4, this is Air 5. Hope you enjoyed the show. Say status,” a voice said from the radio, which sat on a nearby table. It was the radio Achraf had been carrying when Maria’s team had captured him and all the other Aswan soldiers. Four of them had died, along with two of Maria’s people, but the rest had quickly surrendered when they’d realized Maria’s force had trapped them in a room with only one exit. An exit covered by more guns than they had.

The soldier chuckled. “When I don’t respond, they’ll come to find out why.”

Maria turned to look the man in the eyes and smiled. It wasn’t a pleasant smile. “You and your soldiers will die, and none will mourn you.” She turned to Rehema and nodded. “Get ready.”

“Are you sure? I’m sure with some persuasion, he’ll give the appropriate response,” Rehema said, grabbing Achraf firmly by the testicles and squeezing.

He grimaced and grunted in pain but continued to stare at Maria defiantly.

“He might, but it’s time we took the fight to them. We’re done hiding.”

Rehema nodded and strode away, but not before giving Achraf another squeeze hard enough to take him to his knees.

“Ready for what?” he said between groans. “What do you think you can do against an air assault wing?”

“You’ll see,” Maria said.

As if on cue, multiple men and women ran onto the roof and ripped covers away from the anti-air weapons they’d anchored to it.

Achraf struggled up to his knees again and looked around. “No… where did you get these? You cannot have these weapons!”

“But we do.”

The guard got to his feet, staggering and off balance, and charged at Maria to knock her off the roof with his own body weight. He was slow, with his hands bound behind his back, so Maria saw him coming and jumped to the side. Achraf’s momentum kept him going, and he toppled over the edge of the roof to fall to the ground below, landing with an audible thud.

Maria pulled her radio from her belt and hit the transmit button. “Open fire as soon as they’re in range.”

* * *

President Isa stood at the back of the situation room, deep under the palace, and watched the video feed from the strike group. One explosion after another obliterated the rebel camp.

“Something’s wrong,” Colonel Hakimi said.

“What could be wrong? They’re decimated, as they should be.”

“There should have been people running or shooting back. I didn’t see any movement at all, did you?”

“There must have been something!”

Suddenly, the speakers came to life with a transmission from one of the pilots in the strike group. “We’re taking fire. We’ve lost one! Damn, two! They’ve got anti-air on the resort, repeat, they’ve go—”

“Lost signal, sir,” one of the controllers said.

“Then get another one of them!”

“They’re all gone, sir,” the controller said in response to Isa’s demand.

“Director Kassab’s shuttle is on approach,” another man said.

“Good. Have him come here as soon as he lands,” Isa said.

He looked at the multiple monitors at the front of the room, and his stomach churned. There was a crowd in front of the gate. He’d lost a strike group, and it seemed like the rebels were moving all at once in a coordinated effort. A glance at another camera showed that in the front area of the Imperial governor’s grounds, there were Marines in combat armor.

One of the screens went bright white, and then dark. “What happened?”

“Checking! Looks like they took out the APC.”

“Kill them all,” Isa growled.

* * *

Ari watched as concealed turrets popped up from the ground behind the fence around the president’s compound and opened up with pulse laser fire. Thanks to Snake, though, they’d equipped the front rank of their group with personal shields for just that reason. They wouldn’t last long, but it was long enough for everyone to scatter and get to cover. Cover that scouts had previously identified or strategically placed.

They returned fire, but the turrets were well armored. In the end, all they could do was flood the area with smoke grenades to ruin their targeting and hunker down to wait. Snake had said things would happen, but not what. Ari waited and hoped it would be soon, and that it would be enough.

* * *

Darrel leaned forward in his seat as they approached. “Smoke. Is that laser fire?”

“Yes, sir. That’ll be the perimeter defense turrets,” Osaze responded.

Darrel shook his head and mumbled, “I hope he does the right thing.”

“Sorry?”

“Nothing. Get us on the ground, ASAP. I think they’d expect us to land as soon as possible in this situation.”

“Can do.”

Darrel sat back and tightened his harness as the pilot accelerated toward the marked landing platform on the heads-up display. Red lights blinked in a circle, and the pilot guided the shuttle in what Marines would describe as an assault landing.

“Looks like we’ve got a welcoming committee,” Osaze said and pointed to a small screen showing the camera view from the rear of the shuttle.

“To be expected. Well, I suppose I shouldn’t keep them waiting,” Darrel said. He hit the quick release on the harness and stood, making sure his helmet was secure, and walked out into the passenger area of the shuttle.

“Time to go, Ahmed.”

“You’ll pay for this, you filthy dog,” Kassab said while Gyasi hauled him to his feet.

“Maybe. But not today,” Darrel said, grabbed Kassab’s wrists by the restraints, and pushed him toward the rear ramp. “Open it up. Stay to the side, out of view. They only need to see us.”

Darrel triggered the emergency drop on the ramp, causing it to fall with a thud without the resistance of hydraulics, and three men in uniforms came to attention and then reached for their weapons when they saw Kassab being pushed down the ramp by Darrel, concealed in his stealth suit.

“Don’t bother,” Darrel said through the speakers in his helmet in a modulated voice and held his pistol against Kassab’s temple. “Take us to Isa.”

All three men jerked their hands away from their sidearms as if they were hot iron but didn’t move. They looked at Darrel, and one strode forward one step, and looked to Kassab, waiting for an order.

“Kill him, you fool!”

The man who had stepped forward drew his weapon and aimed it over Kassab’s shoulder at Darrel’s head, which was the only exposed part of his body.

“Are you a good enough shot?” Darrel asked. “Can you kill me before I can pull the trigger? Will my finger spasm when you shoot me, causing your boss to die?”

The man maintained his aim but did nothing.

“Are you sure you’re on the right side of history?” Darrel asked more calmly. “Put your weapons down, turn, and run away. I give you my word, I won’t kill you.”

The sound of explosions carried from the front of the palace grounds, the source location isolated by the built-in audio receptors in his helmet. “Last chance.”

The man gradually lowered the weapon and glared at Darrel.

“You now have two options. Report to Isa that it’s over, and he needs to surrender to the demands of his people, or I will make him.”

* * *

President Isa watched the monitors as things continued to get worse. The smoke screen laid down by the rebels obfuscated any possible targeting, and the turrets fell silent with no targets to shoot.

“Where is Kassab? He should be here by now!”

One of the operators pulled up a camera that covered the landing pad, and there was an audible gasp as the image rendered.

The scene on the screen was nothing like Isa had expected. He saw the three-man team that was sent to meet Kassab, and the angle also showed a man in all black, including a helmet covering his features, holding a pistol to Kassab’s head. The operator activated the audio, and they all heard, “—and he needs to surrender to the demands of his people, or I will make him.”

“Something’s happening at the gates!”

* * *

Once the turrets came up and fired on the group in front of the palace, Gunnery Sergeant Hunt got the order he’d been waiting for and led a squad of Marines in combat armor out the gates and up toward the palace grounds. The resistance had laid down an effective smoke screen, which didn’t bother them at all with the optics in their suits.

The Marines staying behind closed the gates, and Hunt led his squad up the road as fast as the suits would carry them.

“Fire only on command, even if they’re hitting your armor, unless you take significant damage. I doubt anything short of their tanks could bother us,” he said on the squad circuit. They knew what weapons the Aswani military had, and he knew Imperial combat armor was better unless they brought out something that could pierce their armor. Unfortunately, the Aswani government equipped most of the Aswani security forces to fight unarmed civilians.

He had known things were going south, and so had the governor, but there had been little they could do. It felt good to be taking action, even if it was only as a show of force, which was their only purpose unless things went sideways. Since the resistance had fired at the palace grounds, his unit couldn’t defend them as if they were unarmed civilians. He hoped the visual threat would be enough.

They arrived as the smoke was clearing, and when it did, he knew what anyone watching would see and hoped they made the right decision.

* * *

Isa looked between the screens, and for the first time since he’d taken the presidency, he was terrified. His director of intelligence was a hostage, as good as dead. There were Imperial Marines at the front gates, their purpose—or plan—unknown.

I’m trapped.

There was the escape tunnel, but something told him even that wasn’t safe.

“Orders, Mr. President?” Colonel Hakimi asked.

“Kill them all.”

Colonel Hakimi turned to look at Isa and hesitated.

“Didn’t you hear me? Mow them down! All of them! Take Kassab, as well, if they have to. I can replace him. I can replace anyone!”

Hakimi saw the glances being exchanged between the command center’s operators and shook his head. “Those are Imperial Marines in front of the palace. If we open fire on them, the Imperial orbital facility will launch an assault team. Of course, they could already be on their way. I’m afraid it’s over.”

Hakimi’s voice was full of sorrow and regret, and it was clear to Isa that he’d lost his spine.

“Then I’ll do it myself.”

* * *

Darrel watched and waited, and then something unexpected happened. The three men put their weapons on the ground and backed away.

“It’s over,” the man in the lead said and clasped his hands on top of his head.

“What do you mean, over?” Darrel asked, never one to trust something that came far more easily than he expected.

Darrel heard what sounded like cheering from the front of the palace grounds, but didn’t turn his attention away from the men in front of him.

“Colonel Hakimi has taken charge of the palace grounds and opened the gate. The will of the people must be respected.”

“You filthy dogs!” Kassab yelled and struggled free from Darrel’s grip. Somehow, he freed himself from the makeshift restraints and knocked Darrel’s gun out of his hand.

Rather than turning to fight, Kassab ran, but he didn’t make it far. Unwilling to allow the mastermind of atrocities to escape, Gyasi raised his rifle and fired. Three shots struck Kassab in the back, and he tumbled to the ground.

The three guards fell to the ground to stay out of the line of fire, and even though that put at least two of them within reach of their weapons, they didn’t grab them.

Darrel grimaced and picked up his gun, frustrated at himself for being caught off guard and glad Gyasi hadn’t hesitated. A part of him wanted to find the situation room and oversee the next steps, but it was time for him to disappear.

He turned to Gyasi and extended his hand as the other resistance fighters secured the guards. “Well done.”

Gyasi shook Darrel’s hand. “We’re not done yet.”

“You’re not, but I am. This is where my part in all this ends. Do me a favor. Find a woman named Rehema—she’ll be with Maria—and tell her I said goodbye.”

“I know Rehema, and I have a feeling she will not be happy.”

Darrel shrugged. “I think she’ll understand,” he said and gave Gyasi a pat on the shoulder as he walked out of the shuttle and down a path toward the perimeter, where he could make his exit quietly and unobserved.

* * * * *

Epilogue

Two days after the resistance took President Isa into custody with the assistance of former Colonel Shakir Hakimi, Darrel sat back in Michelle Montane’s office, sipping whisky out of a plastic cup.

“Think they’ll be okay?” Michelle asked.

Darrel took a long drink of the whisky and set the empty cup down. “I do. Maria’s got a good head on her shoulders, and Governor Cameron will help them get everything settled by the book.”

“The cache?”

“Destroyed,” Darrel said. “Those things are going to be trouble. Mark my words.”

“I won’t argue with you. There are a lot of murmurings going on, and few of them are good.”

Darrel nodded. He’d heard the same rumors, and he was concerned about the direction Imperial Intelligence was going, but he also knew there was still work to do for the Empire.

“So, do we have orders?” he asked as Michelle refilled his cup for him with the rich amber liquid.

“Two choices of missions.”

“Okay,” Darrel ‘Snake’ Atwater said, downing the whisky in one gulp, and tossing the cup in a trash bin. “What have we got?”

# # # # #

About the Authors

Fred Hughes is the International Bestselling Amazon Author of The Prince of Britannia series, and its follow-on series, Heroes of Britannia. Fred writes in the various sub-genres of science fiction. He also wrote the First Solar War series.

Fred believes characters are the most important part of a story. So important that he starts with developing his characters and then writes the story through their eyes. “I’m basically a ghost writer for my characters,” Fred once said in an interview.

Having served twenty years in the US Navy, most of it on submarines, Fred developed a great appreciation for the written word. Naval service also gave him an appreciation for organization, processes, and the camaraderie that serving together brings. It’s also helped in writing space combat.

* * *

Alex Rath is a published author of science fiction and post-apocalyptic fiction, known for crafting immersive worlds, compelling characters, and thought-provoking narratives. With a focus on rich storytelling and deep character arcs, Alex explores the resilience of the human spirit, the possibilities of the future, and the triumph of hope even in the face of adversity.

Drawing inspiration from classic and modern science fiction, as well as many and varied role-playing games, both tabletop and video games, Alex weaves tales that challenge perspectives, ignite the imagination, and delve into the complexities of human nature. Whether exploring distant galaxies, near-future dystopias, or the uncharted territories of the mind, his stories offer a mix of adventure, mystery, and optimism about what lies ahead.

When not writing, Alex enjoys video games, attending his daughter’s gymnastics competitions, and building Star Wars Lego sets. Alex believes that great science fiction is not just about the unknown—it’s about the strength of the people who dare to explore it.

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The following is an

Excerpt from Book One of Symbiote Wars:

Symbiote Wars

___________________

Chris Kennedy

Available now from Theogony Books

eBook and Paperback

Excerpt from “Symbiote Wars:”

*As you expected, all three ships have shut down their shields and are docking with the refueling station,* Suzie noted.

Johnson looked up from the nuclear missile he was standing over. “How much time do we have before the battlecruiser is tied up?”

*Fifteen minutes or so.*

Johnson’s jaw clenched. “It’s going to be close.”

The Terrans had followed the Cowlee fleet through the bridge back into the Cashtal system and had then shadowed them as they’d headed for the refueling station.

“Where did you learn to do this?” Sutton asked.

“When you’ve been alive as long as I have, you have time to do things. I went through sapper school about twenty years ago.”

“You played with nukes in sapper school? That’s a thing?”

“Well, no, not nukes, but the principle is the same. Strap the thing that goes boom onto the thing you want blown up, and you’re all set.”

“Great, but I was more wondering about playing with nukes, not blowing things up.”

“Oh.” Johnson smiled. “This is something I’ve never done before, but the concept is straightforward enough.” He looked back down at the missile he was elbows’ deep into. “Now, you might want to let me concentrate while I remove the warhead. Especially since it’s kind of leaky, and I’d like to minimize our exposure to the radiation.”

Sutton’s jaw dropped, and he wanted to ask another question, but decided it was better to let Johnson do his thing.

<Are you okay?> Frank asked. <Your bio signs are spiking.>

<I’ve never seen a nuke, much less played with one before. And his lackadaisical attitude toward it is really freaking me out.>

<Doc said that Suzie is sending the blueprints to the bomb to his goggles. All he has to do is follow the steps in the manual, and everything should be fine.>

<That would have been nice to know a while ago.>

<Besides,> Frank added, <setting off a nuke is much harder than you’d think. You can’t just drop it on the floor and have it go boom. You need the detonator to function in the manner intended to actually get a nuclear blast. Even if you had an electrical discharge and some of the explosives surrounding the nuclear matter happened to go off, it probably wouldn’t go nuclear.>

<Also good to know info.>

<Of course, the explosives going off would kill us all, and shower us with enriched radioactive material, ensuring our demise, but we wouldn’t die in a nuclear explosion, if that’s what you’re worried about.>

<Pretty sure I didn’t need to know all of that extra stuff, either, Frank. I would have been happy if you’d have left it with ‘there won’t be a nuclear blast.’>

<But that wouldn’t have been all the information.>

<Sometimes Humans don’t want to know all the info. This is one of those times.>

“You’re watching what I’m doing, right?” Johnson asked softly.

“Yeah.”

“Good, because you’re going to have to disassemble the other one while I build our bombs.”

“I what?”

“Don’t yell,” Johnson said. “You don’t want to startle me.”

“But I—”

“We don’t have enough time. I’m going to need you to take a more active role.”

“But I—”

“Do you want to save Earth or not?”

“Well yeah, but—”

“Suzie, send James the schematics you’re sending me, along with the procedure.”

*Sending,* Suzie replied, her voice soft.

James blinked as the blueprints and procedures appeared in his view. They were weird—he could see them when he focused but they faded when he looked through them. “This is the best heads-up display I’ve ever seen. I didn’t know the goggles could do this.”

“How have you been doing your checklists?”

“Just projecting them into my view and looking at everything else around them.”

Johnson stopped and looked up. “That’s not a good way to do it. You’re going to miss something that way.”

“Well, maybe if my teacher had told me the goggles had a HUD…”

“Sorry. Sometimes I forget you haven’t had ground school, which is where you’d have learned that. My bad.” He shrugged. “Now get that tool kit—” he pointed “—and get to work on the other one.”

* * * * *

Get “Symbiote Wars” here: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0DQVFRJ5R. 

Find out more about Chris Kennedy at: https://chriskennedypublishing.com.

* * * * *

The following is an

Excerpt from Book One of Blood and Armor:

Never Again

___________________

Bill Fawcett

Available now from Theogony Books

eBook and Paperback

Excerpt from “Never Again:”

“Good thing we got word when we did,” Jaziri said. They both knew their Humvee was parked just out of sight down the road. The driver’s careful approach had saved them from driving, unsuited and unprepared, into the gun’s field of fire. He looked across the gorge. “They have another one setting up to guard that approach.”

“Important targets,” Nisti Khan replied. Her voice had steadied now that they were in contact with the enemy.

Moving fluidly and aided by the almost silent motors powering the limbs of the suits, the fighters edged around the flat space where the road widened before entering the bridge. They could see enemy sappers on the roadway atop the dam, dropping satchel charges into the water on the reservoir side of the dam. Each charge was suspended from a long cable, and there were dozens of the heavy cases being carried from the three helicopters by streams of Iranian soldiers. Jaziri wasn’t sure they had enough explosives set to destroy the sturdy dam, but he wasn’t about to let them try.

“The range is still pretty long for the third mullah chopper,” Khan noted, eyeing the machine on the far side of the gorge.

“I’ll get closer,” Jaziri said. “When I fire, you take out the two in front of us.”

Khan nodded, and as one of the cylindrical grenades popped out of her shoulder harness, she took it in her hand, ready to throw. Another of the explosive missiles ejected partially, ready for the second shot.

The raiders, probably special forces troops of the Iranian Revolutionary Guard, projected an air of professional competence, no doubt honed slightly by the tension of their mission and the knowledge that they were committing sabotage deep inside a foreign country. A few NCOs barked commands here and there, while an officer or two stood beside each chopper, but by and large, the men proceeded as if they were well trained and confident. As the last of the charges were removed from the helicopters, technicians settled down on the bridge and hooked up the cables to a battery-powered detonator.

Jaziri cleared his faceplate to transparency and looked at the young woman beside him. She did the same, meeting his gaze with a frank appraisal of her own. He saw no fear in her expression—instead, she looked back at him with a thrilled, almost eager stir of anticipation. She, too, had been one of the twelve at Mahabad. She’d witnessed the deaths of Timo’s wife and son.

As if reading his thoughts, she whispered, “Never again.”

* * * * *

Get “Never Again” here: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0D1WKVRV3.

Find out more about Bill Fawcett at: https://chriskennedypublishing.com.

* * * * *

The following is an

Excerpt from Book One of The Last Marines:

Gods of War

___________________

William S. Frisbee, Jr.

Available now from Theogony Books

eBook, Audio, and Paperback

Excerpt from “Gods of War:”

“Yes, sir,” Mathison said. Sometimes it was worth arguing, sometimes it wasn’t. Stevenson wasn’t a butter bar. He was a veteran from a line infantry platoon that had made it through Critical Skills Operator School and earned his Raider pin. He was also on the short list for captain. Major Beckett might pin the railroad tracks on Stevenson’s collar before they left for space.

“Well, enough chatting,” Stevenson said, the smile in his voice grating on Mathison’s nerves. “Gotta go check our boys.”

“Yes, sir,” Mathison said, and later he would check on the men while the lieutenant rested. “Please keep your head down, sir. Don’t leave me in charge of this cluster fuck. I would be tempted to tell that company commander to go fuck a duck.”

“No, you won’t. You will do your job and take care of our Marines, but I’ll keep my head down,” Stevenson said. “Asian socialists aren’t good enough to kill me. It’s going to have to be some green alien bastard that kills me.”

“Yes, sir,” Mathison said as the lieutenant tapped on Jennings’ shoulder and pointed up. The lance corporal understood and cupped his hands together to boost the lieutenant out of the hole. He launched the lieutenant out of the hole and went back to digging as Mathison went back to looking at the spy eyes scrutinizing the distant jungle.

A shot rang out. On Mathison’s heads-up display, the icon for Lieutenant Stevenson flashed and went red, indicating death.

“You are now acting platoon commander,” Freya reported.

* * * * *

Get “Gods of War” here: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0B5WJB2MY.

Find out more about William S. Frisbee, Jr. at: https://chriskennedypublishing.com.

* * * * *

The following is an

Excerpt from Book One of The Prince of Britannia Saga:

The Prince Awakens

___________________

Fred Hughes

Available now from Theogony Books

eBook, Paperback, and Audio

Excerpt from “The Prince Awakens:”

Sixth Fleet was in chaos. Fortunately, all the heavy units were deployed forward toward the attacking fleet and were directing all the defensive fire they had downrange at the enemy. More than thirteen thousand Swarm attack ships were bearing down on a fleet of twenty-six heavy escorts and the single monitor. The monitor crew had faith in their shields and guns, but could they survive against this many? They would soon find out.

Luckily, they didn’t have to face all the Swarm ships. Historically, Swarm forces engaged major threats first, then went after the escorts. Which was why the monitor had to be considered the biggest threat in the battle.

Then the Swarm forces deviated from their usual pattern. The Imperial plan was suddenly irrelevant as the Swarm attack ships divided into fifteen groups and attacked the escorts, which didn’t last long. When the last dreadnought died in a nuclear fireball, the Swarm attack ships turned and moved toward the next fleet in the column, Fourth Fleet, leaving the monitor behind.

The entire plan was in shambles. But, more importantly, the whole fleet was at risk of being defeated. The admiral’s only option now was to save as many as he could.

“Signal to the Third, Fifth, and Seventh Fleets. The monitors are to execute Withdrawal Plan Beta.”

The huge monitors had eight fleet tugs that were magnetically attached to the hull when not in use. Together, the eight tugs could get the monitors into hyperspace. However, this process took time, due to the time it took for the eight tugs to generate a warp field large enough to encompass the enormous ship. It could take up to an hour to accomplish, and they didn’t have an hour.

Plan Bravo would use six heavy cruisers to accomplish the same thing. The cruisers’ larger fusion engines meant the field could be generated within ten minutes, assuming no one was shooting at them. “The remaining fleet units will move to join First Fleet. Admiral Mason in First Fleet will take command of the combined force and deploy it for combat.”

The fleet admiral continued giving orders.

“I want Second Fleet to do the same, but I want heavy cruiser Squadron Twenty-Three to merge with First Fleet. Admiral Conyers, I want you to coordinate with the Eighth, Ninth, and Tenth Fleets. I want their monitors to perform a normal Alpha Withdrawal. As they’re preparing to do that, have their escorts combine into a single fleet. Figure out which admiral is senior and assign him local command to organize them.” He pointed at the single icon indicating the only ship left in Sixth Fleet. “Signal Prometheus to move at best speed to join First Fleet. That covers everything for now. I fear there’s not much we can do for Fourth Fleet.”

The icons were already moving on the tactical display as orders were transmitted and implemented.

“I’ve given the fleets in the planet’s orbit their orders, Admiral,” the chief of staff informed him. “The other fleets are on the move now. The Swarm should contact Fourth Fleet in approximately ten minutes. Based on their attack of Sixth Fleet, the battle will last about twenty minutes. With fifteen minutes for them to reorganize and travel to First Fleet, we’re looking at forty-five minutes to engagement with the Swarm.”

“What are the estimates on the rest of the fleets moving to join up with First?”

“Twenty minutes, Admiral. However, Prometheus is going to take at least forty-five and will arrive about the same time as the enemy.”

“Organize six heavies from Seventh Fleet and have them coordinate a rendezvous with Prometheus, earliest possible timing,” the admiral ordered. “Then execute a Beta jump. Unless the Swarm forces divert, they should have enough time. Then find out how many ships have the upgraded forty-millimeter rail gun systems and form them into a single force. O’Riley said that converting the guns to barrage fire was a simple program update. Brevet Commodore O’Riley will be in command of the newly created Task Force Twenty-Three. They are to form a wall of steel which the fleet will form behind. I am not sure if we can win this, but we need to bleed these bastards if we can’t. If they win, they’ll still have to make up those losses, and that will delay the next attack.”

* * * * *

Get “The Prince Awakens” here: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0BK232YT2.

Find out more about Fred Hughes at: https://chriskennedypublishing.com.

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