Chapter Fourteen

Three and a half-hours after acknowledging Feeses message, the Berone Sunrise finally landed on Luronsa IV. Jan Lomona was a frequent visitor to this world, the Luronsa System being a vital stop-off point for travellers on their way into the Core systems, or visitors on their way out. Glann Cipple had run numerous operations through this planet over the years and Jan had the good fortune to find his starship marked down for many of the trips. Luronsa IV was the kind of world where Jan could relax. Sun, sea, sand and intimate relations. What better mix was there? Of course, he knew that Feese would be fuming by now, his Mon Calamari flesh crawling even more than it usually would have been given the injuries he had sustained. But Jan cared little. If all he had to do was put up with the odd grumble from the cranky, albeit lethal, assassin then it was worth the headache. Within ten days this mission would be over and Lomona could get back to being part of a couple with his fiancée, instead of always having company around. It had been fun while it lasted, but the majority of the mission had been spent in hyperspace with three female passengers, and Jan enjoyed the freedom of the open air. Despite this he also loved the confines of his starship, mainly because it was his starship. He knew every nook and cranny, every contour and crevice. Having Paige and Terrie along was crowd enough. Feese would make it a real riot.

“Come on then, let’s go get the fish.” Jan stuffed his flight gloves into the back of his trousers and stood to leave. Soft pink sunlight filtered through the Sunrises tinted cockpit window, bathing the cabin in its glow. Terrie and Paige waited at the top of the ramp, wiping their tired eyes free of sleep. Despite spending many hours on board starships, freighters and cruisers Paige’s eyes were still relatively unaccustomed to the air conditioning and dry air of space vehicles. Her eyes stung in the mornings and her skin felt rough. The sooner she got outside and sampled some real air the better. Frans was zipping up her holdall in her quarters and stepped out into the main corridor leading up to the cockpit as Jan secured the door.

“Ready to go?” Frans asked as he checked his pockets for his ship control pad, a small device which allowed him to remotely activate the engines and warm up the batteries from some distance, enabling him to blast off faster than usual. His pad was there and he nodded as he allowed Frans to move to the ramp.

“All set. Let’s go.”

Paige obliged and the ramp swung down as the interior door rose up into the ceiling. Terrie strode down it first, checking left and right for any possible dangers. But there were none, and she didn’t expect there to be any. Paige followed, then Frans and bringing up the rear was Jan who activated the securi-grid system and closed the ramp. Satisfied that his ship was secure he marched to the front of the group and led the way out of the starport.

Almost immediately they were in the middle of the carnival. People wearing hats and capes and crazy face-paints weaved their way between them, ducking around and singing melodious tunes. Jan smiled, taking Frans’ hand and surged through the throng. Terrie remained straight-faced, while Paige couldn’t hide the look of wonder on her young features. She’d never seen anything like it. Mom never had a boyfriend who’d shown her anything like this. Her mother had told her about the wild celebrations they had on A-desando during the Kaarla Festival, but that lasted a mere three days and only came along every seven years. It was a time when most A-desandians would journey home to be with their loved ones and family, and Paige hoped dearly that once she’d convinced Jan that she was his daughter he’d take her home to A-desando and show her the carnival, and the Desando Dynamics shipyards, and maybe introduce her to some of their family….

“Feese is going to be so angry when you arrive.” Warned Frans as they rounded a corner onto the main street. “He hates your guts as it is.”

Jan raised his eyebrows in amusement.

“I know, that’s why I did it.”

Paige caught up with Jan and slipped her arm into his, without protest.

“Why doesn’t this Feese guy like you Jan?”

Lomona shrugged.

“I don’t know. I thought everybody loved me.”

Frans shook her head and laughed.

“Not everyone hotshot. Just the unlucky ones.”

A dozen floats eased past, crammed with dancers and revellers, and then into sight came Feese. He was still perched on the wall waiting for his contacts to arrive. Jan felt like laughing but Feeses body language told him not to. Lomona might be Captain of the Berone Sunrise, but they weren’t on the Sunrise just yet. Terrie stepped on ahead to make first contact with Feese. Jan, Frans and Paige held back a moment, to allow the two to go through the usual security procedures and then joined them.

“Feese.”

“Lomona.”

Jan felt the icicles even through the tropical heat.

“Sorry about the delay, we, err….”

“Had some trouble with the signal booster, but its fixed now. I’m Paige Retgarr.” She thrust out her hand at Feese, who accepted it slowly. “I’m Jans technician for the mission.”

Jan smiled sideways at Frans and Terrie as Paige returned to his side. Feese looked away for a second, not fooled at all by the transparent lie, and began walking towards the starport.

“Whoa, wait up Feese.” Jan moved next to him. “Where are you going?”

Feese let out a long, hard breath through his mask.

“To the Sunrise. I have no intention of spending another second longer on this damn circus planet.”

Twenty scantily clad females of mixed species swung past, showering them all in confetti. Feese grimaced, unseen beneath his iron mask.

“If I have to endure All the Sector's a Stage again then I’ll have to kill something just to ease the pain.”

Jan sucked his top lip in and nodded. Feese might have been displaying a jet-black sense of humour, but he didn’t fancy finding out. Turning to his companions he pointed back to the starport.

“Sorry guys, show’s over, nothing to see here, move on.”

“They’ve arrived?”

Lans nodded at his superior as he stepped across the room.

“They have, Your Excellency.”

Five starships could clearly be seen from the starboard viewport. Dressels yacht The Mighty, Spytes gunboat Iron Will and Predd Jasons starship Hot Pursuit were all parked parallel to the Repressor. Torona Formoons ship Cage Of Moons and Geon Tasars Star Of Tessann were parking as Treece smiled. All here and ready for the kill. Soluman shined like a jewel below, the strong sunlight reflecting off her vast oceans. Treece hoped it was a sign, a beacon leading them to their glory.

“Is my shuttle prepped?”

Lans almost let slip a frown. He doesn’t think I can even prepare a shuttle anymore.

“As ordered sir. The Captive awaits your arrival.”

Treece nodded curtly.

“Thank you Commander. That will be all.”

Lans saluted and left the office, returning to the bridge. Treece seated himself behind his desk and activated the Holo-unit. Moments later he was patched through to the five starships outside his window.

“Gentles. Many thanks for your timely arrival. As you are no doubt aware, Cipples agents are currently grouping on and around Soluman as we speak. Some are gathered on the Breemarr Trading Station, some are already on the planets surface. Soon it will be time for us to strike. As you are well aware my troops and me will not be directly participating in the assault. Repressor is here on a routine inspection mission. Once you have intercepted the necessary agents, and discovered the location of the Heed, relay the information to me.”

This line prompted a static-filled reply.

“Wait a minute Treece. Who said anything about telling you the location of the Heed? You told us the only thing you want is Cipple?” It was Predd Jason, as arrogant and disrespectful as ever, even when sitting mere kilometres away from an Imperial Star Destroyer.

Treece smiled and rubbed his hands together slowly. Cocky pup.

“A mere precaution Predd. Whilst this is happening there will be a fully armed and battle-ready Star Destroyer in orbit, watching over the operation - “

“Is that a threat?” Growled Geon Tasar dangerously “We have five starships here and another forty-five on the way.”

Treece frowned to himself. Tasar was a powerful ally and a deft tactician. A good man to have on your side, but a terror to have as an enemy. Perhaps that was why Dressel had bought his services a few years ago. He shook his head.

“Why of course not Geon. I’m merely stating the fact that the Repressor will be parked in high orbit while the mission is being completed. And will take custody of Cipple at the soonest opportunity.”

“What makes you think Cipples coming here anyway?” Asked Jason again. “Just because he’s left Amagad doesn’t mean he’s on his way to Soluman.”

“Oh, I beg to differ,” Interjected Dressel. “I think this is precisely where he’s headed. If he knows we’ve found the location of the Heed, as he surely must, then he will want to be here when we, or his own men dig it up. Glann may be paranoid but he’s not entirely without guts.”

Treece nodded. Dressels reasoning solidified his argument for continuing the mission. Even when it seemed to some like a certain trap.

“I agree with Dressel. Cipple will be here when the Heed is uncovered, and will attempt to hide it somewhere he believes is safe. But Glann Cipple will soon discover that there is nowhere in this galaxy he can call safe anymore.”

This evoked a laugh from three of the five ganglords. Spyte and Tasar remained stony silent. Treece pointed at them.

“I see you don’t share our appraisal of the situation.”

Spyte shook his head, his coal-black skin catching the shallow light aboard his gunboat.

“No I do not. I believe we’re flying into a trap.”

“You do? Then why are you still here?”

Spyte twisted his lip into a snarl.

“Because unlike some operators I don’t have the luxury of dipping my hand into someone else’s pockets and borrowing cash.”

Treece frowned hard at the holograms.

Spyte continued.

“This deal has cost me two hundred thousand credits, and I need to recoup that soon. Trap or not, I’ve got to be here.”

“In case you’re wrong?” Asked Treece. Spyte shook his head.

“I’m never wrong. But sometimes my information is.”

Treece noticed Tasars wry smile and turned to him.

“Presumably you agree with Mister Spyte?”

Tasar crossed his thick arms.

“Perhaps. Trap or not, we’re in the stronger position. We have the resources, the information and the will power to succeed. Whatever happens, we’re leaving Soluman with the Heed.”

Treece openly grinned and closed his eyes, nodding his head as he did so.

“This day will be remembered for decades to come, by all of us. Alert your men. Their mission on Soluman begins now.”

The Phoenix swung her cargo end around, nestling in between the craggy outcrop of rocks that would serve as a temporary base of operations and laid to rest. Goah wrestled off his headset and flight gloves and powered his freighter down, leaving all but the essentials at cool standby. Mactin had completed his repairs in the engine room and was collecting his gear in the main hold. Goah snatched at his long coat hanging behind the cockpit door and threw it on. Mactin looked up.

“All set?”

Goah nodded and grabbed his snipers rifle. It was a beautiful piece of weaponry, his P 64-shoulder rifle having dispatched many Imperial and underworld enemies.

“Ready when you are.” Goah opened the ramp and stepped out, allowing Mactin to move past so he could close the ship and activate the security systems. Sunlight glared down dazzlingly from above, the Soluman star powerful in its intensity. Just ahead Goah could make out raised ground covered in a small spattering of huts and tents which marked the location of the pre-destined meeting point. Spotting the main hut he moved towards it.

It was quiet inside which put Goah immediately on alert. One side had been sectioned off with a simple drape, partitioning the cabin. Goah pulled it aside and whistled in surprise. There sat a shiny new communications array, with up-to-date equipment and powerful signal boosters. Other equipment was strewn around the tent - megaphones, klaxons, kilometres of cables. Galletti called Mactin and seconds later the Chinngardian entered the room.

“You could get a message back to Amagad with this stuff.” Goah sat behind the desk and slipped on the headphones. “Who set all this up?” Seconds later he began to frown. Mactin, unable to hear what Galletti was listening to kneeled down next to him.

“What? What can you hear?”

Goah silenced him with a wave, his features rapt in concentration. Was that really who I think it was? It couldn’t be but…it must.

Mactin growled and stood again, scanning the room. It was the outpost alright, but none of the agents had arrived yet. What was delaying them? Surely the trip down from the Breemarr Trading Station wasn’t that hard. Okay, there was the small matter of a Star Destroyer in orbit, but Glanns men had faced more difficult problems than that. Maybe they’d just arrived early for a change. After all, in a profession like theirs it paid to be unpredictable.

Galletti called him over.

“Listen to this and tell me who you think it is.” Goah removed the headset and vacated the chair. Mactin gave him a devious smile as he sat and listened. Just like Galletti he was grinning within seconds.

“Someone’s patched into Dressels personal ship comm.”

Goah nodded slowly, a grin teasing the edge of his lips.

“What are we going to do?”

Galletti pointed.

“Find the record button.”

Gimo twisted away from the revelry and celebrations and made his way down the deserted side street towards the starport. It was hot and humid, the clear green sky filling with the wisps of storm clouds. Luronsa IV enjoyed its weathers, all variations. Rain was cause for celebration, as was sun and snow. Gimo had been posted on the planet for long enough to have experienced them all in equal measure and had long ago had his fill. It wasn’t that Luronsa IV was a bad posting. On the contrary, it was a paradise. Endless beaches, endless parties, endless women. It never ended. It was true what they said - you could get too much of a good thing, and Gimo was getting too much of it right now. Oh, how I long to be back among the scum and filth of the streets of Cawbate, or the grimy back alleys of Chancai. Or the mud beach of Amagad. Anywhere but this idyllic tropical paradise…

He rounded the corner and came to a stop, leaning against the wall and pulling out a cigarillo. Even though he could little afford the habit he persisted in it, claiming it was his only pleasure. The oily green smoke wafted away as he inhaled and a contented smile briefly lit his face. It was hard being a Gamp on a day like this, his thick hairy hide making him even hotter than usual. He found that this corner caught the breeze from the rear of the spaceport and occasionally made the heat bearable.

Occasionally.

Curse Predd Jason for making me come here! It had been two years, but sometimes it seemed like yesterday. All because of a simple error someone else had made. He’d never meant for the messages to get confused the way they did. If the field agent had been listening to him properly, and not taken his warnings as a joke then the six smugglers running through the Quarshanell Sector might have made it out alive. And despite his protestations, despite his pleas, Gimo was sent here to Luronsa IV in disgrace. His ranking made him little more than a bar-hopper and guttersnipe. He was so far down the chain of command that it would take an age for any of his findings to reach the right people. Luronsa IV had plenty going on, but from the level of the gutter it was just the same as any other world. Gimo would have given his right arm to get things back to the way they were.

What was that? He blinked through the cigarillo smoke and leaned off the wall. It looked a hell of a lot like…I’m checking this one out, he thought as he moved slowly from the corner towards the starport fence. Yes. Yes, it definitely looks like the Berone Sunrise. That was the ship he’d been told to keep a look out for a couple of weeks ago, the last time he’d had any direct contact with any of Predd Jasons men. What’s Jan Lomona doing on Luronsa IV? And who’s he with? He sidled down the fence, finding the gap he’d made in the metal links and slipped inside. Gimo scurried behind some package crates and eased his macros out of his pocket. Someone was moving about underneath the heavy freighter, moving down the sleek spine of the ship towards the larger cargo area. But who? He didn’t recognise the person…it was a human female, young by the looks of it. He knew nothing of her. Wait, another….Lomona, walking to the girl and handing her some tools. Gimo grinned from behind the macros. Paydirt at last! This could be my ticket back to the action. Someone else moving now, by the open ramp of the ship…Stang, it’s Carlonian Feese! What’s he doing with Lomona? I must have missed one hell of a briefing thought Gimo. I can’t remember the last time I was so out of touch. Feese was entering the ship, followed by another female human….ahh yes, Frans Latka, Lomonas female companion. Gimo scanned the length of the ship again for signs of others, but he saw none. Satisfied he leaned back and pulled out his comm., switching it on with a flourish. This‘ll shut those losers up back at the townhouse. He waited for the connection. With a flash of static it came.

“Operating number.” Came the curt reply. Gimo smiled. It had been so long since he’d had to call in with a genuine piece of information. This was a sweet feeling.

“Operating number…. Ermm…. Oh Stang, what is it?” He gritted his teeth and groaned. What’s my damn operating number? It had been so long he’d forgotten it.

“Who is this? Gimo, is that you?”

Gimo looked up, surprised. It was a cardinal sin to give an agent’s name over the comm. without the identity being confirmed. It was a breach of protocol, which could endanger the man in the field. Gimo smiled wryly. That said everything of what they really thought of him.

“Uh-huh.” He confirmed, not wishing to confirm his name. The man at the other end of the line made a very musical display of letting his breath out loudly.

“Get off the line you loser. This line is for field agents who’ve got something real to report.”

Gimo glanced over his shoulder and around the crate. Lomona was still there with the girl, twisting the bolts on the landing struts.

“I’ve spotted Lomona. He’s here with the Berone Sunrise.”

“Yeah Gimo, sure he is. And I’ve won the Sector lottery. Get off the line.”

Gimo shook his head agitatedly.

“Listen to me; he’s here for real on Luronsa IV! He’s got Carlonian Feese with him, and a young girl and…”

“Gimo, we all know how desperate you are to drag your life out of the gutter. Can’t say I blame you for trying, I know I’d hate to be where you are right now. But these stories, they’ll get you into trouble.”

Gimo kneeled up. No! They have to believe me.

“For stangs sake, they’re right here in the starport! Send a speeder down and check it out yourself.”

“No-can-do Gimo. I’ve got a very important appointment with my bookie. City Swoop Race Championships are today.”

Gimo closed his eyes and clenched his jaw. This was the ticket, the way out. He had to listen.

“Please, do something. Why won’t you believe me?” Gimo was standing now, staring openly at the Sunrise just a few dozen metres away.

“You want a list? I ain’t got time for that. The main reason I’m ignoring you is that the Berone Sunrise is on its way to Soluman along with a load of Cipples men. So how can the same ship be in two places at once, huh?”

“But…”

“I’ll tell you what. I’ll post this message along to Mister Jason. He’s probably at Soluman right now, waiting to see what happens. I’ll make sure he knows who sent the message. And when he sees it was you, well...we both know he doesn’t tolerate liars. Watch your back Gimo.”

Gimo breathed a sigh of relief as he pocketed his comm. The message was going to get out. Predd would find out that he was a decent and worthy field agent after all, and finally he’d get to leave Luronsa IV. Maybe I’ll get that posting to Wennicas I’ve always wanted or the caves on…

“Stand up slowly and raise your hands. Up, up, come on.”

Gimo shook his head in disbelief. Where’s this woman come from? She was dressed from head to foot in black. Black combat jeans, black boots, tight black vest top and a matt-black Blaster. She tossed her dark hair out of her face and waved at him with the nozzle of her gun.

“Who are you? Why are you snooping around the ship?”

Gimo stared directly into her chocolate brown eyes. They held within the cool composure of a woman who was in total control. And who wouldn’t balk at getting the answers she required, by whatever means necessary. Gimo saw no use in lying to her, especially with the master torturer Feese only metres away.

“My name’s Gimo. I work for…”

“Predd Jason, I’ve heard of you.”

Gimo smiled despite himself. Wow, someone has actually heard of me? I must be more important than I thought.

“You got sent here after some botch-up with a comm. message.”

Gimo nodded sadly.

“But it wasn’t my fault. If they’d listened to me then they’d have survived. No one listens to me anymore.”

Terrie squinted at him.

“For your sake I hope that’s true. I assume you’ve already contacted your people about us?”

Damn, she knows. He nodded.

“I have. But they don’t take much notice of me. They think you guys are on Soluman.”

Terrie smiled, shrugging her shoulders.

“Must have missed that one.” Terrie frowned. “You know I can’t let you go, not after spotting us.”

Gimo nodded. He knew the score. It was the same the galaxy over. If you can’t take the blows, don’t get into the ring.

“What are you going to do?” Sweat began to accumulate along his eyebrow ridge. Those thunder clouds seemed very close right now. Terrie adjusted the setting on her blaster and aimed at Gimos chest.

“Sorry. It’s the only way.”

Gimo nodded and closed his eyes, waiting for the shuddering thump of the blast. When it came, the last thing he felt was his knees giving way and the solid crack of his head hitting the permacrete….

“….occasionally it would be nice if she told me where she was going. It’s not a lot to ask. I mean, I am the ships Captain.”

Paige nodded, turning away so her grin wasn’t clear.

“You’re the Captain.”

“We’ve got things to do, places to go. We can’t be spotted here.”

Paige agreed.

“Yes Jan.” She caught a sign of movement and glanced over. “Hey, what’s that?”

“What’s what?” Jan moved away from the claw assembly to get a better look. What he saw didn’t improve his mood. Terrie huffed a tired breath as she dragged Gimos unconscious body towards the Sunrise.

“Don’t say anything Captain.”

Lomona waved his arms in a negative motion.

“No. No way Terrie. We agreed no cargo on this job.”

“Very funny. This is Gimo - “

“Predd Jasons man?”

Terrie nodded.

“The same. He spotted us preparing to leave. I saw him through the cockpit window and sneaked out to see who it was. I don’t kill people in cold blood, so…”

Jan pulled an irritated grimace.

“Great. Why couldn’t Feese have seen him?”

Terrie threw him a disgusted look. Jan stepped back.

“What? This isn’t a passenger liner. I’ve already done more on this trip than I bargained for. We’ve got to leave now or we’ll blow everything.”

“It’s too late for that. Gimo got a message out.”

Jan froze.

“You’d better be wrong.”

“It’s what he said. He doesn’t think they’ll take it seriously, but….”

Jan stepped forward and grabbed Gimos legs.

“That’s a chance we can’t afford to take. Come on. I’ll find a space for him in the cargo hold.”

Terrie raised her eyebrow.

“The cargo hold? So how come he gets to travel first class?”

It had been a steady, constant stream of starships heading down to the rendezvous site on Devlins Island for over an hour now. Breemarr Trading Station, until recently a bustling sprawl of commerce and activity was now an almost deserted shell orbiting the ocean-covered world. Of the twenty-two starships docked at the station belonging to Glanns men only three remained. Two belonged to section leaders Norto Hyl and Seffun Tessae. The third, the Thunderchild, belonged to Ryath Centaur. Centaur had recovered well from his wounds inflicted upon him whilst on Moot. With the assistance of Clara he was healed and prepared for action. Tessae and Hyl waited for Centaur near to the entrance to the docking bay, both eager to depart. They would be the last of the section leaders to arrive on Soluman, and knew that it wouldn’t be long before enemy agents arrived to begin the final order of business.

“All set Centaur?” Asked Seffun Tessae, her ringlets of blond hair falling around her shoulders. Ryath smiled and patted the blaster swinging by his armoured hip.

“I’m always set. You should know that.”

Norto Hyl rubbed his scaly Sikkarian nose and grinned as Ryath came to a running stop.

“Let’s go Ryath. Nothing like a fight to warm a lizard’s blood.”

“And nothing like a fight to spill it.” Ryath extended a hand to Hyl. “Good hunting Norto. Watch your back.”

Hyl shook the hand and glanced at Seffun. She had a warm smile on her face and waited for Ryath to turn to her.

“Seffun….” He began.

“Good luck Centaur.” She shook his hand, but kept steady eye contact with Ryath. “Make it back in one piece.”

“I intend to. Come on, let’s go.”

The final three agents boarded their ships and revved for take-off.

On board the Thunderchild space was at a minimum. Nevertheless, Ryath had managed to make space for both Tarr Ranth and Grin. Ranth had arrived at the Breemarr Station in Shoot Laftas starship, and out of respect to Lafta for lending it to him had decided to leave it on the station and out of harms way. Grin had arrived with Centaur. As Ryath entered the starship, Ranth stood to his feet.

“Centaur, good to see you. What’s the plan?”

Ryath shrugged his broad shoulders, his steel-blue eyes glinting under the cabin lights.

“Your guess is as good as mine. Frankly, I don’t care how we fight, as long as we come out on top.”

Ranth nodded, his battered black Mandalorian helmet absorbing the light.

“A sentiment I share.”

With that the Thunderchilds engines roared to life, her batteries already warmed. Clara expertly lifted the ship off the docking bay floor and out through the magnetic shield into the high atmosphere of Soluman. Ryath moved into the cockpit, taking the co-pilots chair. Grin had his flat scaly nose pressed against the window, squinting into the distance.

“You can just about see him from here.”

Ryath frowned.

“Who?”

“Treece in his Star Destroyer. And some other ships as well. Can’t make ‘em out though.”

Centaur ran his hands over the console, activating his scanners.

“Well, they’re not interested in us, their batteries aren’t even warmed. Ignore them. Let’s get down to the base, Jan should be there by now.”

Grin stepped back from the window, careful to avoid Ryaths eyes. As far as almost everyone on Soluman was concerned, Jan and the Sunrise should be arriving anytime now. Why risk altering that perception by telling Centaur otherwise?

Grin nodded and tapped in their landing co-ordinates, after which he moved out of the cockpit.

“Whatever you say.”

“You did this?”

Nemec Niern shrugged his shoulders in a self-effacing manner and turned around in his seat.

“Don’t sound so surprised Galletti. I do have my occasional uses you know.” Niern stood to his feet and led Goah over to another console near the edge of the room. “I’ve been here for a few days, setting this up. This equipment here for example. Tells us when we can expect any kind of aerial or ground assault from enemy forces. I’ve got sensors and alarms set up all around the place. Gives us a two-minute warning. It’s what I was doing when you and Mactin arrived.”

Goah raised his eyebrows at Mactin, an impressed look on his face. Nemec Niern was a respected Gunshop owner, and a known technological expert. Whoever decided to hire Niern had made a wise choice indeed. Galletti eased his way past a group of people, huddled around a console, and followed Niern outside.

“What kind of attack are you expecting? No one seems to know when this deal is going down.”

Niern shrugged.

“Presumably when Lomona arrives. As to what kind of attack, who can tell? I’m sure it’s going to be a bloodbath. If what I’ve heard is true, they’ll fight to the death.”

Goah moved closer. What have you heard Niern?

“What do you mean? I thought we were here to provide cover for Lomona so he could finish off his mission.”

“Yes, a mission of great importance. Which will be completed here on Soluman. But only a few people know what he’s here to do.”

Goah looked blank.

“Which is?”

Niern glanced about, checking that they weren’t overheard.

“Dig up the Heed.”

Goah reeled at that.

“The Heed?” He whispered. “It can’t be. That’s just a myth.”

Niern sat down on a nearby boulder, placing his hands on his knees.

“We’ve all heard the stories but it’s true. From what I’ve been told, one of Glanns men stumbled upon the true location of the Heed. Glann dumped the information into his computer. When the disk was stolen, that information was taken with it, buried under layers of encryption. That encryption has now been broken and our enemies know the Heed is on Soluman. Somewhere out there.” He pointed dramatically towards the horizon. “Little wonder Glann assembled so many men to cover Lomonas butt. If I had as much riding on this I’d send an entire army.”

Galletti scratched his head and joined Niern on the boulder. All around activity was at a premium. Agents ran, walked and scurried around, preparing themselves for the coming conflict.

“But why send Lomona? He’s no archaeologist. The furthest he’s ever dug is to the bottom of his black book for women’s comm. numbers.”

Niern smiled, his face staring directly ahead.

“Don’t you think that’s why Glann chose him?”

Goah frowned.

“I don’t follow.”

“If Cipple hired a respected archaeologist and sent him looking for the Heed it would completely give the game away. Lomona is familiar to almost everyone in the Setnin underworld. What the Stang would he be doing looking for an old, mythological starship?”

Goah nodded. It was a fair point. Still, it felt strange going to all this trouble to cover Lomona and his team. Jan usually rode alone these days, occasionally taking Frans along with him. If he realised how many others were riding shotgun on the deal….

Without warning klaxons began to blare and alarms began to sound. For a millisecond everyone froze, hardly believing what they were hearing. But it was there nonetheless, and reality snapped them back.

“The proximity alarm,” Began Niern as he rushed to his feet. “We weren’t expecting them so soon.”

Goah raced along with him back toward the tent, bumping past hurried people racing to their designated areas.

“What’s the plan Nemec?” Goah shouted. He hated the thought of leaping in alone, as he was accustomed to, and messing up any possible attack plans that had been laid down. Better to swallow his pride and play along with the team.

For now.

Niern shook his head as he skidded back into his seat and snapped on his headphones.

“Plan? Grab your rifle and prepare for a fight.”

Galletti nodded and left the tent. Mactin noticed his exit and followed closely. Together they sprinted to the edge of the raised encampment and hit the ground. Commando-style they belly crawled to the edge of the shelf and peered over.

The sight they saw entirely failed to fill them with encouragement.