Page 52 of Defiance
Xata was, predictably, reclining in her command chair and digging crunch clusters out of a snack package with a bident. She had her boots up on the observation deck’s railing and waved her fingers.
“If it isn’t Para Ferulis,” she purred. “I’ve missed you, Chairman.”
“Siat, good to see you. Insubordinate as ever, I see,” Baellanus said.
“Do you collect Atarians?” she asked their XO, genuinely perplexed.
“Not her,” Vindilus groaned as he got up from bed sounding like a wood chipper. Imani leaned into the feed to hold up her middle finger, then ducked away to slip on a shirt. The walls of their home unit pulsed with a permanent privacy veil. Smart.
“Status updates,” Ferulis growled, drawing everyone’s attention.
Vindilus scraped his calloused palm down his scarred face, waking himself up. “Renata’s fine.”
Xata ate another cluster, unperturbed. “All’s quiet on Piaoguo. Not a peep. Not even a nibble.”
“What about Huajile?”
The commander shrugged. “We’ve been keeping an eye on the port authority, but it’s all crickets. No shady cargo ships without a rock-solid alibi.”
“What about something the size of a cruiser?” Dasin asked, joining the other two in their comm halo. Xata raised a brow at him, planting her feet on the floor with interest.
“Is that Baby Bjorek all grown up?” she asked, her tendrils spiraling to life.
Dasin smirked at her. “I’ve been grown up a lot longer than you’ve noticed, commander.”
Xata bit her lip and grinned.
“Do not tempt her,” Imani warned, leaning back into the feed again.
“Oh, I’m notnearlyas dangerous as a human. Something about your translucent skin and wedge noses makes Union men froth at the mouth. A little shimmy of those lumps of fat on your chest, and suddenly they’re whipping out their c—”
“Who wants to be demoted to desk duty first?!” Ferulis growled, cutting her off. All of his agents went quiet like subdued whelps.
“I wasgoingto say ‘cruisers,’” Xata cooed, her eyes flying over a data stream, “because several ofthosehave come in and out of Huajile over the last satbit. Hundreds, in fact. Can you narrow down what you’re looking for?”
“Something that uses a high-end fuel cell instead of the usual plasma engine,” Dasin supplied.
Baellanus tilted his chin in thought. “A luxury cruiser with eight fuel cells would be powerful enough for a contraband chainskip engine.”
Vindilus grunted while Xata went on mute and yelled orders over her crew.
“Most of the smuggling on Huajile is disguised as useless junk that planetary customs pass over,” he grumbled thoughtfully. “Small ships move the big ticket items…” His mandibles splayed out in a revelation. “That ship we grounded in the jungle when the Nephim buyer tried to take Bree was an 8-cell sera class with a modified chainskipper. They could be moving dolls, but fuck if I know why.”
Xata returned, tossing some data their way. “There were seven 8-cell cruisers in the last two satbits. One of them is registered to HIXBS as part of their guest fleet,” she scoffed, standing up. Her feed followed her as she strode angrily towards her pilots’ hub. She leaned into the dome of glass, scanning the port, then turned her vid feed around to show Ferulis. She pointed to a silver and maroon ship with HIXBS’s logo on the side. “There’s the bitch. Right fucking there.”
The chairman’s team fell silent in shock, but all Ferulis sensed was chum in the waters. His plan had worked. Charlie Halloway was in danger.
They all were.
And there he was playing Blind Man’s Bluff in the Uaeri Corridor on the other side of the Union. Med-Go was a distraction in plain sight.
“Call your brother and sister back,” Ferulis snarled at Bael. “I don’t give two shits what the council says, I’m claiming a high security emergency effective immediately. Get my mission control centers ready for mobilization if it comes to it.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Xata, you know what to do.”
The shilpakaari woman winked then held her cheeks between her palms in fake dismay.
