Chapter Twelve

…. the music, the parties, the all-night celebrations. Luronsa IV was so cheerful it almost made him sick. Carlonian Feese was never at ease in public places. He’d lived most of his adult life in the shadows, and that was where he felt he belonged. But here? This planet was so bright and sunny he didn’t think there were any shadows. Glann would hear of his discomfort when he returned to Amagad. Luronsa IV by night was one thing, but this….

There was a constant, surging, pulsating crowd, driven by an insistent dance beat. Elaborate dresses were worn by the galaxies most beautiful females. Outrageous costumes paraded through the streets in processions a thousand strong. And all through it the sun beat down like a benevolent ringmaster, shining its pride on the revellers. Feese, used to camouflage and deception couldn’t have looked more out of place if he tried. He was close to his melting point, he knew that. This was a well-trodden route through this part of the Mid-Rim. Luronsa IV occupied a unique space in the Mid-Rim, being one of the last worlds on the spiral arm. Beyond lay the vast reaches of deep space, and beyond that, if any starship was fortunate enough to survive the journey, lay the Inner Rim Worlds. Luronsa IV was both a stop-off point on the way out and a holiday destination on the way in. That made it one of the prime worlds for information gathering. News from the Core was scarce in these parts - any information could be brought here, at a price. Feese knew well enough to keep his ear to the ground for any juicy information he could pick up, but it wasn’t his reason for being on the holiday planet. His reason lay just around the corner, past the floral-decorated float of a Wampa and behind the Repulsor-sled selling sweet cured meats. Glancing left and right he keyed in the code and prepared to enter….

“Friend, don’t retire just yet. Come join us! The party is just beginning.”

Feese looked at the arm of the obviously intoxicated man draped around his shoulders and then into his glassy eyes. It was apparent that he didn’t have the first idea who he was accosting, otherwise drunk or not he would know not to ever place his arm there. Not unless he ever planned on using it again. Feese firmly removed the arm and went to enter again.

“Wait! Come on, bring a friend. It’s carnival time, don’t be so glum.”

Feese turned and faced the man.

“Glum? You want to see glum?”

Bobbing his head happily the man grinned and leaned unsteadily against the wall. Somewhere within his mind he thanked the builders for erecting it there.

“Here’s glum.” In a flash Feese removed his facemask, revealing the gory spectacle of half-rotted, half-cooked flesh within. One second, perhaps two and the man realised what he was looking at. With an anguished scream he stumbled backwards, toppling into a dozen or more other revellers, and picking himself up with the sure feet of the suddenly sobered he sprinted away into the crowd. Replacing the facemask with a satisfied, rictus grin, Feese entered.

Inside the room the atmosphere couldn’t have been more different. Grey walls, smeared with grease and dried blood. The floor much the same, with chairs and tables strewn about. Feese checked around the room as per instruction and seated himself. He didn’t have to wait long. To his left the door chimed and his contact entered the room.

“Feese, glad you could make it on time. Glann told me you’d be punctual. I had no idea you’d be this precise.” Garr Sintinecc closed the door and wiped his wrinkled domed brow, the ageing gunman turned Luronsa operative sweating in the clammy room. Feese knew of Sintinecc and his reputation, having crossed paths with him on a couple of social occasions at Glanns Fortress, but never out in the field. Sintinecc seated himself opposite Feese and produced a flat folder. Opening it on the table he pulled out a couple of flims and slid them over.

“What’s this?”

Sintinecc coughed hard and wiped his brow with a handkerchief.

“New instructions. Lomona and his party are coming here.”

Feese tilted his head towards Sintinecc, the gloomy light reflecting off the grey metal of his mask.

“Here? What about their stop at Cantarr Bi Romou?” Feese paused to take in the expression of the older Barada, but Sintinecc was too wily and too experienced to give away such free and obvious information. His face betrayed nothing. “What’s happened while I’ve been in hyperspace?”

Sintinecc shifted in his seat and leaned forward over the table.

“It’s a long story….”

“…I’ve never been so sure of anything in my life. Now stop your fussing and let me prepare.” Glann moved around Bella, picking up his night-bag as he did so.

She frowned and turned.

“You still haven’t had their deaths confirmed. They might be alive.”

Glann shook his head.

“I would have heard something. It’s up to me now.”

“Hell, sometimes I just can’t figure you out.”

“Isn’t that why you married me?”

Bella raised an eyebrow.

“No. But I am used to you making some kind of sense. You sent Lomona off to do this mission so you didn’t have to leave the Fortress yourself. Why decide to go now, after all that’s happened?”

Glann continued to pack.

“Because I’ve realised that there are some things you have to do yourself. And this is one of them.” He zipped the bag and faced his wife. “Besides, there is someone else on Abrogard I need to speak with. And it has to be face to face.”

Bella frowned. Who could he mean?

Glann continued.

“Now, you can either remain at the Fortress and oversee things while I’m away or you can come with me.”

Bella chewed her top lip.

“What would be better? Me running things here or coming along and distracting you on Abrogard?”

“I knew you’d see it my way. I’ll contact you as soon as I arrive.”

“Which will be when?”

Glann checked his chronometer and smiled.

“Sooner than you think.”

Tarr Ranth checked the skyline and breathed deeply. It was a pleasant day, the breeze softly whispering around his matt-black Mandalorian helmet and uniform. Cantarr Bi Romou had been a long journey from his previous mission on Tatooine. The Imperial Governor he had tailed was perfectly set up by his deft machinations and the bounty collected in an equally efficient manner. His previous employer had been more than satisfied by his performance and had little problem with allowing him to take on this job for Glann Cipple, back in the Setnin Sector. He decided to travel light, leaving his starship, the Dark Star, secured in a Tatooine lock-up. The Star Tours liner Star Princess had been an expensive, luxurious ride but he cared little. Life had been good to him lately and finances were of scant concern. Nevertheless, when contacted by an operator as important as Glann Cipple it paid to follow the scent and start bounty hunting. It was after all his prime profession. During a stopover on Noscage, Ranths contact had informed him of this opportunity and he gladly took it. And now, overlooking the market place of Kansonn Velee, the main city of Cantarr Bi Romou, he waited for his Romou contact to arrive and give him the latest news. News of the hunt.

“Ranth? Tarr Ranth?”

Ranth turned his head slightly; the man behind him fully sighted many metres away thanks to his sophisticated Mandalorian armour. Ranth nodded slowly, the action all the more menacing in his matt-black armour and raised his head.

“And you are?”

The man smiled nervously, wringing his sweaty palms together tightly. Ranth made him nervous. And Ranth liked that just fine.

“Shoot Lafta, sir. Mister Cipples Romou operative. May I suggest we find somewhere more secluded to conduct our conversation?”

“A sensible precaution Mister Lafta. Proceed.”

Lafta led Ranth to an outside tap café, the seats scattered around the paving area. No one else was around, and Ranths body language alerted any pestering waiters that today was a bad day to sell Chav.

“I’ve just been informed. There’s been a change of plan. You’re to proceed directly to the Soluman Delta Gulf.”

Ranth leaned back in his chair. How annoying. After all the bother of travelling to Cantarr Bi Romou he would have to move on again. And so soon. The tribulations of the licensed bounty hunter.

“Very well. However, I have a slight problem.”

“Yes sir?”

Ranth leaned forward over the table, almost into the face of Lafta.

“I travelled here by passenger liner. The next isn’t due for two days. I wonder,” He paused to smile a wicked smile beneath his helmet. “Do you own a starship?”

Treece swallowed the steak and washed it down with a glass of Duarga. It never ceased to please him, the taste of the wine. Of all the so-called constants in the galaxy, Duarga was the only true one. Oh, and never give a sucker an even break. His mood was good and the food was excellent. The Repressor lay in wait, preparing to leave Janos at his command. His strategies were all going to plan. Smiling, he passed the bottle down the table, by-passing a junior aide, his own feline Ryallaryhian `escort’ for the night and a visiting General. Commander Korne Lans was the final recipient of the Duarga and he took it with a nod of his head.

“A toast Commander.” Treece raised his glass high. “To the spirit of the Empire. And the spirit within us all.”

His assorted guests raised their glasses and joined in the toast. Lans seemed confused by the meaning of the address.

“Commander. Do you not believe that within us all there lies the indomitable spirit that has driven the Empire onto such glory? That the fire which burns within each and every one of us burns that much brighter within the hearts of loyal, Imperial citizens?” It was asked more as a challenge than a mere question and Lans wiped the corners of his mouth before answering.

“Your Excellency, I certainly believe there is a fire within us all. A passion, a driving force. Spirits are something else. Spirits are to be crushed, destroyed. Only then can true power be taken and held. For me, spirit is what I hold in a glass. And it can be drained away just as easily.” Lans up-ended the glass, downing its contents in one gulp. Treece fixed him with a solid stare, his fingers curled under the rim of the table. Indeed, taking ones spirit could be that easy.

“If you will excuse us. Commander Lans and I have vital matters to discuss.” Treece stood and motioned for Lans to follow. With a swift salute he honoured the other military staff at the table and exited the dining room. Treece was a few short steps ahead of him when suddenly he stopped, turned around with his fist already bunched and struck Lans square on the jaw. With a groan the Commander collapsed and slumped to the floor, barely conscious. Treece rubbed his sore knuckles and stood over his sub-ordinate.

“That was for three things. Lomona leaves Janos in the Berone Sunrise. Why didn’t you tell me?”

He directed a vicious kick into Lans stomach, winding the man and curling him up into an even tighter ball.

“Secondly, I’m informed by Geon Tasar that a detachment of his men were intercepted by Lomonas team and left for dead on Janos. Why didn’t you tell me?” Another kick, this time in the back evoked an anguished cry from the stricken Commander.

“Finally, Glann Cipple leaves Amagad in his Cruiser, presumably on his way to the Soluman Delta Gulf. Why didn’t you tell me?”

Lans gurgled a panicked reply before Treece could strike again and the Moff knelt down to hear his words.

“Yes Commander? I await your reply with interest because sometimes I simply marvel at your incompetence.”

Behind him the door to the dining room swooshed open and the sensual feline Ryallaryh stepped out. She hadn’t noticed the two men on the floor. She was more intent on getting a lung-full of fresh air. Enough that those Imperial animals were pawing at her like she was public property but that cigar smoke was really driving her crazy. And the smell of it stays in the fur for an age. Leaning against the wall with a sigh she arched her back to relieve the stress and longed to be back home on Rirrayr.

“Yarrlah, go to my quarters and prepare for bed. I’ll be along shortly.” She almost jumped out of her fur when she heard the voice of her client for the night, and noticing Treece on the floor next to another injured human she wilted inside. He did that to a fellow human? If he came into the bedroom after doing that to a member of his own species what will he do to me? Sorrowfully she padded her way along to his quarters.

“…My apologies…Your…Excellency….” Strained Lans from between split lips and a swollen tongue. “..I was overseeing…the sifter team….you requested.”

Treece frowned. Yes, of course. He’d ordered a team to dredge up any incriminating information about his five collaborators in the Glann Cipple affair. And now he remembered, he’d asked Lans for a progress report.

“Never mind apologies. What did they find?”

Lans licked his blood-drenched lips.

“Nothing. Nothing at all. There…are no records of any…transgressions by these…men.”

Treece took a deep, angry breath. Nothing? There must surely be some record of their illegal behaviour? If, after all these days the sifter team had found nothing…

“Go to the Infirmary and get cleaned up, then set course for the Soluman Delta Gulf. I’ll retire to my quarters. If anyone asks who did this,” He smiled wickedly. “Tell them you were attacked by a crazed Ryallaryh female.”

Lans nodded painfully as Treece hauled him to his feet and pointed him in the direction of the Infirmary. Once the Commander was out of sight he rolled up his sleeves and headed for his quarters.

That was closer than he would ever admit to anyone.

A swift barrel roll had barely spun him out of the way of the Repressor as it swung from behind the massive asteroid and powered towards open space and lightspeed, the conning towers flashing by like steam trains of old. The Shadow of the Phoenix rocked in the wake, corrected itself and snuck behind a medium-sized asteroid. No time for detection now, Goah Galletti thought. If they want me they can come and get me.

He waited for a full ten minutes, running ship ID scans as he did so. It was the Repressor, Grand Moff Treeces ship. But what was he doing so far away from his beloved Zelon? Goah filed the information away as he watched the Star Destroyer edge away around the moon towards deep space. With a brief flash it spun into hyperspace and was gone. He sighed in deep irritation. Bad enough that he’d spent the last week evading Imperial capture, first on Gista and then coming into the Janos system. Bad enough that the journey was loaded with mechanical problems that he and Mactin Selka, his occasional co-pilot and partner, couldn’t fix. He silently hoped that Lomona, if he was still alive, had resolved the situation himself so he could pull the Phoenix into a repair bay and do some jobs for Glann that better suited his abilities. Goah hated flying. Despite being a more than average pilot he welcomed the times his freighter was safely secured and locked up. But these days it seemed more and more necessary to use personal transport, especially now Glann was utilising his skills far more often. And in more exotic locations. Gista was a hole, but it helped to show his face there every once in a while. Gaalent wouldn’t forget it, that was for sure. Glann could rest easy - that little consortium wouldn’t be threatening anyone’s profits in the foreseeable future. If ever.

Mactin entered the Phoenix’s cockpit and slumped into the co-pilots chair. His bushy mane of hair was scruffy and unkempt, unlike Goahs long and tidy locks. Selka was a stocky alien from Chinngard who along with his brother Durne had been running the lanes for decades. Selka’s had always been good co-pilots, or so Mactin and Durne had claimed. Jan and Goah had no reason to contradict.

“What’s the plan?” Mactin scratched behind his ear and reached for a bottle of Flameout. Goah kept his eyes firmly ahead, sizing up the world of Janos below.

“We’ve been out of contact with Cipple for a while. It’s time we checked in with Ocern Gabe; find out what’s going on.”

Mactin nodded and powered up the comm. unit, activating their signal booster. Moments later static crackled over the airwaves. Goah swept his jet-black hair out of his face and leaned into the mike.

“This is Goah Galletti, broadcasting on secure channel Delta 1125. Security identity code TLT622 Beta. `Krayts Charge Interest On Yuma’, I repeat, `Krayts Charge Interest On Yuma’.” Goah waited, and almost immediately the familiar voice of Ocern Gabe cut through the ether.

“Galletti, good to hear from you.”

Sure it is, thought Goah. No one ever thought it was good to hear from me before. Why start now?

“I was ordered to contact you when I reached Janos. What’s the situation?”

Gabe proceeded to inform Goah of the recent happenings. For his part Goah sat in silence as Mactin whistled in surprise. Lomona was still alive and his exploits so far were a bag full of close shaves. Mactin should have known better. Nothing Lomona did surprised Goah. Gabe finished recounting his tale.

“You’re to proceed directly to this location in the Gulf.” Co-ordinates for the rendezvous began to filer through to Galletti’s console. “Glann is being informed as we speak. When you reach Soluman you will be contacted. But for now, that’s all you need to know. Anything else?”

Goah rubbed the bridge of his nose.

“It may be nothing but I’ve just had a very close encounter with Moff Treeces Star Destroyer, the Repressor. He usually stays close to Zelon. I’ve never heard of him venturing this far out before.”

“Neither have I.” There was a pause. “I’ll make certain that’s included in Glanns information packet. Clear skies Galletti.”

Goah broke the transmission without a reply and eased back into his seat. So this crazy circus is now going to Soluman, perhaps with Treece in tow. And Lomona’s going where? If the thought had occurred quicker he’d have insisted on tailing Lomona to his destination, wherever that was. Obviously it was on a need to know basis, as was everything these days. Glann had prepared some kind of surprise for the enemy, utilising as many operatives as he could. Goah closed his eyes and inter-twinned his fingers. Soluman Delta Gulf.

And as fast as possible.

Jan ran his fingers through his short brown hair and stretched in his pilot’s seat. What a crazy ride. He’d spent a couple of hours alone in the cockpit after blasting off from Janos, insisting he needed the break from all the noise going on around the Berone Sunrise. Paige was adjusting and tweaking systems all over the ship, scurrying around like a Jawa with a sugar rush. Terrie was busy in the hold, preparing her equipment with the assistance of Aurran, and had turned the volume up on the inter-ship sound systems. Loud music pumped through the Sunrise, which was a surprise to Jan. He loved the heavier, more aggressive music but was surprised that it was Terrie’s preference as well. Another thing that they shared. Frans had taken some medication and was sleeping in their quarters. She’d yet to get over her bout of food poisoning on Chancai, and was relieved that Aurran had finally come up with a pharmaceutical concoction that had shifted her queasiness. Jan hoped that after a few hours sleep his fiancée would be back to her usual fiery self. After all, this mission was about more than the D’Staan job, about more than the stolen disk. It was about where the two of them were heading with their lives. And where are we heading, wondered Jan. Sometimes they were the perfect couple, out on the town, entertaining friends and clients, like twinned lovers. Other times they were at the opposite ends of the galactic spectrum. He’d hoped, as the mission had progressed, that they would have had more opportunities to discuss things but Paige and Terrie’s arrivals had put paid to that. That, and being chased around the galaxy by enemy agents. Frans needed things clarified, that he understood. Lomona was a man who lived for the moment, but losing Frans was not an option. If more of a commitment than an engagement was what she needed, then that was what she would get. And all the other problems? Paige being his daughter? Terrie giving him sleepless, restless nights? They’d have to sort themselves out.

Jan was so transfixed by the swirls of the hyperspace dimension that he barely noticed the door slide open and Terrie enter. Without announcing herself she seated herself in the co-pilots chair and took in the view. They sat like that for a while until Jan tipped his head back and swung his chair around to face hers.

“We’ll be arriving at Luronsa in twenty hours. Anything I should know?”

Terrie tucked her legs under her chin and wrapped her arms around them.

“I’ve just reviewed the disk Gabe downloaded into the Tailburner. A lot’s gone on since we’ve been out of touch.”

“Like?”

Terrie smiled wearily.

“Well, for a start Glann believes we’re dead. He’s not just being cautious, he really thinks we’ve bought it.”

“So the heat’s on, I understand that. What’s happening now?”

Terrie looked under the dash and spied Jans Jet Juice. With a cheeky grin she pulled it out and, eyeing Jan all the time, took a long chug on it. Jan said nothing.

“His top agents are moving to either Luronsa IV or Soluman.”

Jan frowned.

“What’s the point of that? If he’s leading the enemy into a trap why not have everyone on Soluman? It’d be a lot more convincing.”

Terrie nodded.

“It’ll look good, don’t worry about that. I don’t know what he’s planning but it’ll be effective.”

Jan took the Jet Juice off her and downed a drop himself.

“Glann’s big on efficiency. So, we’ve led them all on a trail to this area of space, and now we go to Luronsa, meet with an agent…”

“...who’ll tell us what we need to know before we carry on and close the deal on Abrogard. Simple.”

Jan raised an eyebrow.

“And the creeps who’ve been tailing us since we left Amagad?”

Terrie swung her legs down and stood, bending over the console so she was nosed up against the thick glass of the cockpit window.

Jan admired the views.

“They arrive at the fabled third planet, Soluman, and get whatever’s coming to them.”

Jan crossed his legs and sighed.

“Which is?”

“As soon as I know, you’ll know.”

Treece wiped the corner of his mouth before activating the Holo-emitter. An annoying piece of fur tickled his nose, and he succeeded in removing it just as five familiar figures coalesced into view on his tabletop. Ryallaryhians knew how to love and how to fight, occasionally at the same time. His feline escort for the night had turned out to be a real fighter. She put up a game struggle when the Stormtrooper Commander arrived to take her into custody for the savage beating of Commander Lans. Treece was quite exhausted after being forced to strangle her with her own undergarments to stop her from killing any of his men.

“Gentles, welcome. The game is now well and truly afoot. What do you have to report?” He paused, waiting for one of the five to voice their opinion first. None did. He frowned.

“Surely you must have some good news concerning the disk.”

Predd Jason smirked and moved to speak.

“I’ll give you some news alright. I’ve been rooting around, trying to find out a few things before I furthered my investigation. And do you know what I found out?” Treece shook his head, his face a non-committal blank.

“I found out that not only did my disk decode itself, but so have Tasars, Dressels, Formoons and Spytes. And yours.”

Treece dipped out of the cameras line of sight and wiped his forehead with a handkerchief. Decoded themselves? So his suspicions were right, there was some outside influence. But who? It must have been Cipple. But that made no sense. What possible reason was there for him to decode a disk that he knew his enemies possessed? And had proved to be almost crack-proof. Jason continued.

“And they decoded at the exact same time! So tell me, Your Excellency, what do you propose we do now?” Jason’s fresh face was practically glowing with anger, a sight that eased Treece slightly.

“What you are inferring Jason? True, my intelligence agents told me the same thing.” A lie, but a tactical one. Deception was an art that Treece had learned well in his years in service. A touch of it wouldn’t go amiss now. “However, I fail to see your concerns. We have the location of the third planet. The location of the Heed. This is a prize we never dared dream would come into our possession. And, I have just learned that the Berone Sunrise has entered hyperspace and is travelling to the Soluman Delta Gulf as we speak. So, I see little reason for anger. I would have assumed you’d be celebrating.”

Dressel stepped in.

“Your Excellency, what I believe my esteemed colleague is saying,” He emphasised with a trailing stream of sarcasm, “is that it is more than a simple coincidence that the disks have decoded together.”

“Apparently.”

“That therefore they were decoded using an activation signal of some kind.”

Treece nodded.

“That would seem a reasonable assumption.”

Dressel breathed deeply, as if trying to explain his situation to a five-year-old.

“Cipple lost the disk and the information. It’s therefore logical to assume that he activated the decryption signal. And if he’s done that, then the information contained within must surely be useless. Your Excellency, it’s my belief that we are walking into a trap, at a personal cost of two hundred thousand credits. However, you have lost nothing…”

“And gained nothing. I do see your reasoning Gentles. But if I may be so bold as to suggest an alternative line of thought. Perhaps the disk is genuine. Perhaps the activation signal was sent by someone other than Glann Cipple.”

“Who?” Interjected Spyte, as yet silent on the matter. “Who would have access to his activation signal? No one I can think of.”

Treece crossed his arms.

“Come now Spyte. Even Glann has his confidantes. Carlonian Feese. His Shadow Warrior Melm…”

“Both of whom are currently off Amagad.” Cut in Formoon. “His wife Bella, perhaps? She could have access.”

“But why would she do such a thing?” Tasar growled angrily. “She’s never been anything but loyal to Cipple in the past.”

Treece smiled an oily smile.

“She was once a smuggler and a criminal. Old habits die-hard. Perhaps she activated the signal in the belief that there could be personal gain in it for her.” He waited a second. “Maybe it was one of my agents within the Fortress.”

There was a collective in-take of breath.

“You have an agent in the Fortress?” Formoon inquired. “You never informed us of this.”

Treece shrugged easily. It was, after all, a blatant lie.

“Why would I? Of all the professions in the galaxy, you should know it’s never wise to lay all your cards on the table. My agent has been most active these past few days, and will remain so for the immediate future. Until we finish Cipple off. Don’t you see Gentles? If you back away now then all your efforts will have been wasted. You will have committed agents to the field, spent countless credits and gained nothing.” He leaned in again for effect. “Good fortune has come our way at last. We have the location of the Heed, of that I am certain. And with the interception of that starship, before Lomonas team arrives and claims it for Cipple, we will have dealt a crippling blow to his operation. The cash raised from the sale of the Heed could finance his operations for the next fifty years. If we close off that avenue of opportunity then we can all reap the rewards. You get your free hand at running the underworld in the Setnin Sector, and I get Glann Cipple. Surely that must be worth the risk of a possible trap?”

Jason snorted indignantly.

“Says you. You’re not taking the risks.”

“Oh no? By even talking to you I am breaching numerous military protocols. That is a risk I’ve been willing to take. But you forget - you bought the information from me, willingly and without pressure. Initially, I had to purchase the information. But I knew that in my hands it would never be utilised to its fullest potential. I want Cipple, and you want his operation. And so, I sold it on to you in good faith. Surely you’ve heard of the popular trader’s phrase, `No Refunds’.”

Jason ground his teeth and backed away. Treece was right of course. There had never been any guarantees when they entered into this. And now they were nearing the end of the job there were still no safety nets.

“Your Excellency, once again you speak wisely.” Dressel fawned insincerely. “Our operatives will endeavour to return with the Heed in tow and Glann Cipples head on a platter.”

The image of Cipples head on a platter appealed to Treece, as it did to the other four ganglords.

“To our success Gentles.”

If it wasn’t such a deadly situation she would have laughed out loud.

Bella loosened the buttons on her military-style jacket and billowed the material, allowing some cool air inside. It was a hot day on Amagad and she needed the air conditioning fixed and soon, before she melted away completely. Not that a little stickiness would aid or abet matters either way. Ocern Gabe’s information packet, with his familiar Ishi Tibb laugh, had just arrived after much delay. Glanns usually swift information networks had been hindered by the covert operations of opposing groups and as such this information had taken longer than usual to arrive. Much longer. The Sunrise team were alive, and on their way to Luronsa IV. There they would hook up with Carlonian Feese and journey on to Abrogard.

Probably arriving at the same time as Glann.

Cipple would travel the whole trip in hyperspace so there was no way she could make contact and tell him to return to the Fortress. Enemy agents would certainly be aware that he was away from his safe haven and attempt to intercept him somewhere along the route, if they could figure out what the route was. They’d need an Interdictor, a vehicle used by the Empire and various pirates, but with the resources Dressel and his cronies had at hand, why not? They’d managed to solve enough problems already. Glann was confident leaving the operation in Bella’s hands. He’d done it before. In return for his confidence in her Bella was determined to root out their mole. And if it wasn’t a mole or a sleeper agent, then find out who had the temerity to break into the Fortress and steal the disk. Someone knew who it was; friend or foe, and she would exert all possible pressure to discover who. But before that could be attended to she had the problem of sorting this Lomona mess out. What to do? Whatever course of action she decided would lead to friction. Re-calling Glann would surely anger him. Lomona, arriving at Abrogard after what had undoubtedly been an arduous journey and finding his employer waiting for him would be an equally incendiary situation. Even arrogant preeners like Lomona had genuine professional pride, and she could respect that. So, how to decide? Maybe letting the whole scenario play itself out naturally was the way, to let events fall as they did. After all, Glann had many experienced men out there covering himself and the Sunrise team. If they couldn’t figure it out then what chance did she have? Bella shook her head and rose from the table, stretching as she did so. Outside the city was heating up. It really was going to be a hot summer, just like the experts said. She hoped the kind of heat Amagad attracted was the kind they could handle.

“Jezzren, could you get a maintenance team up here sometime today before I’m down to my birthday suit?”

She heard a barely disguised chuckle at the other end of the line.

“Certainly Ms. Cipple, they’ll be with you shortly. We’ve had problems with the turbo-lift this morning.”

Bella frowned.

“Again? That’s the third time this week. What’s with this place all of a sudden? Glann leaves and the whole building falls to pieces.”

“I’m not sure, but we’ll find out.” Jezzren signed off. Without his expertise she’d be lost. He knew so much about Glann’s business dealings, contacts and the like that sorting through all this paperwork without him would be like losing an arm. And at the moment they needed all the arms they could get. She closed her eyes and smiled. Have a drink and take five. It’ll all be clearer then.