Page 2 of Defiance
“Does your leg ail you, sir?”
The chairman’s tympana twitched at the familiar code. He nodded slowly. “More and more these days. No matter. I can manage fine.”
“Steed and Bospho will survive if you’re late. Let’s rest at the fountain. We can refresh on the lunch’s meeting points.”
“I said I can manage.”
“You can blame being late on me. How’s that for a compromise?”
Ferulis rolled his one real eye, but turned down the hall towards the smells of food.
The upper levels of the Citadel were warm and balmy, a greenhouse symptom of the glass architecture and everlasting sunrays. Condensation gathered around the floor of the windows where a thick border of waxy green-leafed plants cleaned the air in long rows along every pathway and conference room. Fountains had long been part of thatequation, not only for the plants, but the shilpakaari and venandi, who both craved humidity.
As a result, the fountains inside the Citadel were social hubs in large domed plazas with food and drink. Voices, drinkware, chairs, holotabs, and all manner of kitchen noises echoed off the water and tiles. Ferulis used to avoid such places at all costs, what with the way they made his talons itch and his chest plates grate together. He hated crowds.
They sat right next to the strongest spray of water and he sighed with relief, rubbing at the prosthetic socket vacuum-sealed to his disarticulated hip. Behind him, water poured from the open mouth of a copper fish with draconic scales and long steel whiskers that twanged with each wayward drop.
Bael leaned in, brushing his optical bionic display like he was scratching an itch on his nose so that it sent a holo directly into Ferulis’s optics as well. He extended his holotab and displayed a list of meeting notes.
“Ship manifests,” Ferulis growled, perusing the information in his optic stream. Neither venandi spared a glance at the bullet points hovering over Bael’s arm. There was no reason to fake the niceties or new-bumbling-assistant bullshittery anymore with the cacophony of the fountain to scramble anything that might try to listen in.
“Yes,” Bael said in an even tone. “Three days ago, an in-bound cargo ship from the Outer Rim went missing in the Uaeri Corridor.”
Ferulis gave him another sharp-eyed look. “Rakta Corps?”
“No. Med-Go, bound for Huajile. There was an S.O.S., then their auto-ID system blinked out.”
Ferulis rumbled in thought, his mandibles vibrating against his cheeks as his metal eye scrolled through the manifests and distress signal. They’d been carrying ade minimiscargo of useless junk for the Huajile’s famous bazaars.Perfume rollers, toiletries, first aid supplies, coolant patches. Nothing that even warranted a customs control check.
“The Uaeri Corridor is dense and unruly, but it’s cheaper on fuel. Navimbaruthi would be more interested in this than me. I’m not the chairman of trade.”
“That’s why I didn’t bring it to you three days ago. But another ship passed through the same corridor yesterday afternoon, Helion time. Its AIS blinked out for a few hours, and when it came back online, the ship was off-course. It docked at Huajile for two turns in the early hours, then departed.”
Ferulis creased his brow. “Do you have its manifest?”
“Coolant patches, hygiene products–”
“Perfume rollers?”
Bael nodded solemnly. “Huajile is classified as a Flag of Convenience by the sec bureau. The rules are lax there, at best, and the inventory logs for both ships lacked quantities. I’m pretty sure they’re not cargo ships. Med-Go might not even be a real entity.”
Ferulis smirked mirthlessly. “Pretty good for someone who can’t wrap their head around spreadsheets and calendars.”
Bael grinned back. “I am grateful for how patient you’ve been while I learn the ropes, sir.”
Ferulis destroyed the manifest copy in his bionic and extended his leg, massaging his joint again. “Why should I care? I have a lot of plates spinning already.”
“When cargo ships dock, they log their auto-ID, then go dark to conserve fuel. Absolutely everything but the breathable atmosphere and vital sensors. Medical goods and sensitive electronics are cleared to unload at most ports by hand in micro-gravity rather than using auto-cranes, which means their goods are scanned and documented by the local port authority.”
“Which doesn’t exist in Huajile.”
Bael shrugged in confirmation. He minimized his holotab, adjusting the cuff of his cote sleeve.
“It departed three turns ago and still hasn’t queued for a chainskip back to the Outer Rim. It never turned its auto-ID back on either.”
Heat radiated out of Ferulis’s chest, the kind that left the tang of soot in his throat. He gnashed his teeth, trying to hide his reaction between a wince as he dug his thumb into his hip.
“Engine type?”
