Andi had been sitting in orbit for days, waiting, hoping to pick up some careless transmission. But now she knew, she had to do more.

  That meant increased danger, but it didn’t mean leading her people to their deaths.

  “You’re right. Pegasus could never take off and get into orbit without being detected. That’s why you’re staying here, Vig.”

  “What? Me? What about you? You just going to walk down? Or maybe you’re going to fly…”

  “Not fly, at least not exactly. I’m going to use the capsule.”

  Vig stared at her, his face a mask of horror. “No, Andi. No way.” The capsule had been on Pegasus for years, so long that it had picked up a half dozen origin stories. Andi had accepted it in trade for something else. She had won it in a poker game. Even that it was old tech, which didn’t even make sense because the name of the manufacturer was stamped right on the thing. But she’d long since stopped expecting pure logic to prevail on such matters.

  After a few seconds, Vig continued, throwing more arguments at her. “We don’t even know if that thing will work. It’s too risky. It’s an insane plan, and even if you somehow manage to get to the surface in one piece, how the hell are you going to get back?”

  “I’m not.” The words carried a funeral-like finality.

  “What the hell do you mean by that?”

  “I mean I’ll be stuck down there, probably for the duration.” Her voice was deadpan, and it was clear to anyone who knew her at all—and few had known her as long or as well as Vig Merrick—that she was deadly serious.

  “What’s the point of you getting stuck down there? Andi, even if you can stay hidden and get some kind of information, it won’t do anyone any good with you stranded on the surface.”

  “That’s why you’re going to position Pegasus at a specified location every day at nineteen hundred hours planetary standard time. I’ve already entered the coordinates in the nav computer. It will handle the maneuver, and get you there with the least possible thrust output. With any luck, you’ll stay safely hidden while you’re still here.” Okay, maybe ‘safe’ is a strong word…

  “Andi, that’s insane. And what do you mean ‘while we’re still here?’”

  “Actually, it’s entirely sane, Vig, and quite well thought out. I’ve been analyzing it from every perspective since we left Megara.”

  “Please tell me you don’t expect us to leave you here and go back once you transmit us information, assuming you do manage to find some useful intelligence? Please don’t tell me that.”

  “That’s just what you’re going to do, Vig. You’re going to get the information, my ship, and the rest of the crew out of this system. You’re going to nudge slowly out of orbit and work your way back to the point the best you can, using minimal thrust until you’ve transited. Then you’re going to find Tyler and the fleet, and you’re going to see that he gets the full report.”

  “And leave you here? Never! I won’t do it, Andi. Not if you order me to, not if a hundred Kriegeri show up and jam shotguns down my throat.” Vig was as upset as she’d ever seen him, and his voice was cracking.

  “Vig, old friend…please. Don’t make this harder. You are as loyal as they come, but this is what I have to do. That thing has to be a weapon, a warship of some kind. You know that, I know that…let’s not pretend. If we don’t find some kind of weakness, you know what’s going to happen. It’s going to destroy the fleet. The whole damned fleet. It’s going to kill everyone we care about, and its going to bring the Confederation—the whole Rim—to its knees.”

  Andi paused for a few seconds, struggling to regain her control. She was upset, too, scared out of her wits, not only of the danger she knew she’d be in, but that she wouldn’t be able to find anything, that she’d go down there for no reason, and everything she’d seen in her mind, every disaster—every image of Tyler’s death—would actually happen.

  “Vig, no one knows the shitholes down on Dannith like I do…you have to admit that, and I’d wager that whatever kind of control the Hegemony has exerted down there, whatever parts of their warped and perverse society they’ve begun to impose, some of those lowlifes we used to deal with are still underground, quiet maybe, trying to go unnoticed, but still there. And if they’re still loose, they still know what’s going on. They’ll have information to sell, I’m almost sure of that. I know you’re worried, but I’ll be better on my own anyway, faster, more agile. It’s not like I’m going to fight my way in and out anyway.” Half of what she said was the pure truth, and the other half was a combination of things she was throwing at her friend in a frantic attempt to get his cooperation. She had enough to deal with struggling with her own fear. She trusted the atmospheric drop capsule about as much as she would a snake in her sleeping bag. But she knew what she had to do, and the last thing she needed was a fight with Vig sapping what strength she had managed to muster.

  “Please, Vig.” Her voice was soft, almost shaky. She was straight out pleading with him. She was going to go no matter what, and she’d fight like hell with him if she had to. But she desperately wanted to part with him on good terms. There was too much chance she’d never see him again for their words now to be spoken in anger. “I don’t want to argue with you, not now.”

  Merrick had a scowl on his face, but suddenly it slipped off, replaced by a sad, confused stare. “Andi…”

  “I know, Vig. But I have to do it. One of us does…and before you jump up and say you should go, be honest. Who has better contacts down there than me? We have no idea who’s still there, who was rounded up, put out of business…killed. I’ve got the best chance of connecting with somebody, and whatever danger is involved, isn’t it worse if nothing is gained? I have a chance, at least, to make a difference. The Confederation needs help. Will I be better off hiding and waiting until we’re conquered, turned into slaves of the Hegemony?”

  She could see almost immediately that Vig saw the reason in her words. She could also tell he was trying to fight it. But under his loyalty and devotion—and a good touch of raw stubbornness—Vig Merrick had always been a pragmatist. “Andi…”

  “There’s no other way, Vig, and you know it. Now, please…you know I’m going to do this, so help me instead of arguing with me. Or come at me with shackles, because that’s the only way you’re going to stop me.” That was a dirty trick, she knew. Vig would never fight her, not even if he thought he was doing it for her own good.

  Besides, she was pretty sure she could take him.

  “Okay, Andi.” His voice was like death, filled with grim acceptance.

  “Thank you, my friend.” She turned and looked toward the door leading off the bridge. “Let’s go check out the capsule. That thing’s been in there for years, and I’d just as soon make sure it’s in decent working order before I jump. Two hundred kilometers is a long way down.”

  It was a joke but, she decided the instant she’d said it, a poorly-timed one.

  * * *

  The Spacer’s District hadn’t changed.

  That wasn’t true, she realized. It had changed enormously. It was quiet, the ever-present street traffic all but gone. The Kriegeri posted at various street corners had done more than the Troyus City police had ever managed to do to keep order.

  Fear will do that…

  But at its heart, the place was the same. It wasn’t as visible as it had been, but she could sense it, feel it. The Hegemony had driven them all in—the underworld elements, the adventurers, the sleazy information brokers—but she’d have bet her last credit they hadn’t been driven out. Not all of them. Not yet.

  She could find what she’d come for, she was sure of it.

  If she was careful.

  And lucky.

  She walked straight down the street as a pair of Kriegeri guards marched past her. She was sure one of them was looking at her, and she did everything she could to look natural, to blend in. She’d agonized over whether to bring a weapon down with her, and she’d finally decided not to. She’d regretted it almost the instant she’d hit the ground, but even so, intellectually, she was still pretty sure it had been the right decision. There were too many high-tech ways to detect weapons, and the last thing she needed was attention from the occupying forces. And getting caught with a gun was something unlikely to end well.

  At least there seems to be some kind of normal activity on the streets. She’d been afraid the population would be confined to their homes for all or most of the day. That would have made getting around unnoticed all but impossible.

  The flight down had been…well, it had been all kinds of things. Terrifying was the first one that came to mind, and the one she knew she’d never forget. She’d no sooner stepped out of Pegasus’s airlock and begun the long descent to the surface when she’d decided the whole thing was insane, that there was no way she’d reach the ground in one piece. That moment of doubt had conveniently—or inconveniently, depending on perspective—come a few seconds too late for her to back out of the whole thing. Once she was plunging toward the surface, there was little she could do except hope for the best…and try to keep herself together.

  She struggled to breath the entire way down, to keep her stomach from heaving up its contents. She was on bottled air at first, a necessity at such low atmospheric density, and for some reason, that made it harder to breathe normally. The cool, sterile, oxygen rich mixture seemed to heighten her tension.

  It had been dark, as well. She wanted all the cover she could get, and the risk of being spotted was exponentially higher in daylight. Still, dropping into a seemingly endless void in the cold darkness was hard on the human psyche. Even Andi’s.

  The drop had been mostly freefall, and the only control she’d had over her descent consisted of two condensed air jets, enough to adjust her course, to react if the atmospheric currents pulled her away from her chosen landing spot, but not much more. She had one small portable thruster, with just enough fuel for a single shielded blast, but that was for her landing. It had baffles around the tiny cone, and it was designed for maximum possible stealth. Still, she’d been well aware all along that the final landing would be the most dangerous moment.

  She would have preferred to come down right in the Spacer’s District, but she couldn’t risk being seen, so she’d landed outside the city instead, a choice that had created other risks, the most dangerous of which had been a ten kilometer walk back to the city limits.

  She’d been worried about enemy patrols, concerned that someone might have spotted her braking thruster, even apprehensive about whether civilians might find her and alert the enemy, intentionally or not. The residents of the occupied world were scared at the very least, she knew, and considering how long Dannith had been controlled by the enemy, some of them were quite possibly brainwashed.

  But there had been nothing. No enemy troops, no nosy civilians. She might have been taking a pleasant stroll in the countryside.

  Except for the cold. She’d ditched the clunky insulated pod that had kept her—barely—from freezing on the way down, but there hadn’t been room for much in the way of a coat or heavy clothing underneath. She had allocated almost every gram of storage she had to the bags of platinum she’d brought down with her, the currency that would hopefully buy the information she’d come for.

  As she walked, she wondered if she couldn’t have done without a few extra hectocredits and managed to cram in a decent coat. It was very early spring on Dannith’s northern hemisphere, and unseasonably chilly at Port Royal City’s latitude.

  Good, she’d thought, as her mind considered things from another perspective. She pulled the light jacket she had around her and continued her trek. Anything to keep people inside.

  It had taken four hours, long for a hike of that distance, but she’d stopped half a dozen times to scout around and sit quietly, listening for any sounds. There had been nothing, and all her caution seemed almost to no purpose. She was unnerved at the ease of her walk into the city, and even right to the Spacer’s District. She’d expected to encounter more guards, patrols…something.

  It was about an hour after dawn, and she continued on her way, maintaining her discipline, only glancing back once to check on the Kriegeri as they continued down the street.

  There’s definitely no curfew, at least not during the day. That will help.

  She realized she had almost no information on Hegemony occupation protocols, an inexcusable oversight considering the Confederation had just liberated its capital from the enemy. It wasn’t possible to think of everything, of course, but Andi tended to hold herself to high standards, and she was angry at her unpreparedness, at her failure to even inquire. Carelessness could easily get her killed.

  Would almost certainly get her killed if she didn’t do the damned best she could to stay sharp.

  Nothing to be done about it now. You’ll just have to learn as you go.

  She turned around a corner, moving down a dingy side street. The buildings were decidedly more worn down than those on the main thoroughfare—and those had been nothing all that special. But it was all familiar, and more than she’d imagined possible, in some ways that tugged at her memories, it felt almost like home.

  She’d been eighteen when she’d arrived on Dannith for the first time, and while she’d been homeless for most of her childhood on the miserable planet of her birth, she’d never sunk quite that low in the Spacer’s District. She’d come close once or twice, though, down to her last few coins, and she’d scouted around, checking for out of the way spots, places she could stay out of sight and not attract attention.

  She’d never had to sleep on the street in Port Royal City, or in some abandoned old building, not when she’d been a young, almost destitute girl, and even less so when she’d been a daring Badlands rogue and adventurer.

  Now, she was back on Dannith, an immensely wealthy woman, owner of a palatial estate on a paradise world, with a dozen hidden bank accounts on four different planets…and she was about to live the life of a homeless derelict.

  Such was the call of duty.

  Chapter Fourteen

  CFS Dauntless

  750,000,000 Kilometers from Planet Danovar

  Santara System

  Year 321 AC

  “Commander, the enemy is…”

  “Yes, I see them, Kiloron.” Chronos was already staring at the display, watching in amazement at the force the Rimdwellers had managed to assemble, and at the number of ships that had made it past the first line of defense.

  The escorts had fought savagely, cutting down swaths of the enemy attack craft. Six years of refinements and tactical adjustments in the use of the defensive ships had coalesced into a potent and deadly force, and hundreds of enemy fighters were destroyed in a matter of minutes.

  The sight encouraged him, to a point. There was cause for pride in how Hegemony forces, from weapons developers to gunners to AI programmers, had adjusted to face a deadly weapon system they didn’t possess, and had never faced before the current war. Six years was a long time to endure carnage and unending conflict, but it was an instant in terms of developing new systems and seeing them deployed.

  Still, there was doubt, too. The escorts had inflicted terrible losses, but the Rimdwellers had also performed well over the years, improved their own hardware, developed new tactics to face the Hegemony’s fleets. Chronos’s forces had won more engagements than their enemies, but the commander was the first to acknowledge they had shockingly little to show for it.

  He knew the Hegemony’s sacred mission, to steward mankind forward, to ensure that the most intelligent and capable led the others into the future…and most of all, to do whatever was necessary to prevent another disaster like the Great Death.

  Chronos still believed in that mission, perhaps more now than ever before, but his resolve was also faltering, and he nursed a growing wish that the Rimdwellers had never ventured into Hegemony space, that they had remained unknown to his people. They would make a fine addition to the Hegemony, certainly, especially the Confeds, a fact that was evidenced by every stubborn stand they made, every reminder of the incredible productive resources they commanded.

  But Chronos was weary of war, sick of the endless losses.

  Despite the numerical and technological advantages possessed by the Hegemony, every engagement to date had been a bloodbath. The fight now underway looked no different. The fire from the escorts had been withering, but the Rim wings simply pressed on, ignoring casualties, closing ranks as they continued on toward Colossus.

  Chronos drew no real satisfaction from the casualties inflicted on the enemy squadrons. He had been a warrior most of his adult life, and it felt somehow…wrong…to cut down such brave fighters, enemy or not. The Hegemony’s sacred purpose was to protect humanity, not to wage endless bloody war against other human civilizations. How many men and women would he have to kill to protect the survivors?

  Notwithstanding appearances, though, the current battle was different from the ones that had come before. He believed Colossus could end the nightmare, that the vast construct had enough power to finally win the war. No, he knew it.

  Still, he still couldn’t purge the stubborn doubts that floated in his mind. He’d expected victory before, more than once, but for six years, even triumph in the field had failed to produce the desired end of the war.

  This time, Chronos wasn’t giving the orders, at least not the direct tactical ones. Hegemony’s Glory was back near the entry transit point, thirty million kilometers from Colossus and her escorts. The behemoth was positioned well forward for a reason. The great ship was strong, perhaps powerful enough to destroy any fleets and fortresses it faced alone. But that wasn’t why the great ship was out in front. Chronos had unleashed Colossus precisely because it offered the possibility of eliminating the necessity of hunting down and obliterating the enemy’s forces. Just maybe, it provided the chance to break the enemy’s morale, to finally convince them resistance was hopeless. He would inflict a devastating defeat on them, and allow them to see Colossus’s full abilities. Then he would offer the terms he and Akella had discussed before she’d returned home, a face-saving way for the Confederation and its allies to yield. A surrender in all but name, perhaps, but from such distinctions, diplomacy was made.