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Their return was without incident, and Tarn held a briefing in the lounge. “The cruiser is essentially vacant, guarded only by three Chessori, and it’s possible they’re installing an interstellar communicator, a hypercom. The Chessori military ships parked beside it are, reputedly, non-operational, and our scanners confirm that they’re shut down. We have an admiral who’s sabotaging Rebel ships, he’s made it difficult to meet with him, and I am not surprised to find all these things in a situation like this where he’s essentially operating on his own, without knowledge of a larger plan.”

He paused, then said, “We could take the cruiser. If it has a hypercom aboard, it would be a huge boon to Chandrajuski.”

“What are you getting at, Tarn?” Krys asked.

“I suddenly got a bad feeling. This whole thing is so tempting that I think it might be a set-up. We know how hard the Rebels and Chessori have been looking for us and the Queen, and don’t forget, we’re in Orion Sector. We’ve been preparing for a long time to take a stand here, and according to Mzdak, the battle has been fought and won by Korban. If all that’s true, Struthers will be furious, and he’ll want us more than ever. What if that cruiser has a tracker on board? If we took it, we’d lead them right to the Queen.”

A large puff escaped from Stven. Everyone’s hands started flailing at the air, and M’Sada was forced to leave for a few minutes.

“If it’s a set-up, it’s a darn good one,” Stven offered.

“And if we pass on it, if we’re wrong, we’ve lost a potential district, a major repair center, the chance of more ships for Buskin, and the interstellar communicator,” Krys said. “I, too, am uneasy with the situation, but I can’t say why. It’s just a feeling.”

“How would we go about taking the cruiser?” O’Brien asked.

Washburn answered. “I can take out the Chessori guards. We can get a pilot into the ship, and I could assign a few of my men to operate a gun battery or two.”

M’Sada returned and spoke up. “It would require two pilots since it is not a fast ship. It’s three weeks to the first jump point, and someone will have to be on duty continuously. Let’s say it has a tracker. We could make a couple of jumps, then just leave the ship there and send experts back to pick it up, someone who knows how to disable the tracker.”

“All that’s true,” Tarn said. “We could pull it off, I don’t doubt it for a moment. That’s why I’m so nervous about it. It’s too easy. I don’t think we’re giving the Rebels enough credit. We’ve been sort of cleaning their shorts lately, but they’re not the type to capitulate.”

“Don’t forget their utter ruthlessness the night of the coup,” Bross said. “I, too, believe it could be a set-up. We should leave immediately.”

“If it’s a set-up, can we leave? Won’t they be ready for just that?” Krys asked.

“Why do I get the feeling we’re surrounded?” Tarn asked miserably.

“If this really is a set-up, they’ll have a lot more ships nearby, just a short jump from the system,” M’Sada said, “and they’ll come at us from all directions. It might be safer to fall for their plan. If they really want us to escape, they’ll let us. They’d probably send a token force after us, but it would have orders to be ineffective.”

Silence fell on the group for a time. Tarn broke it. “I think you should Test Admiral Mzdak, My Lady.”

She looked at him like he’d gone crazy, then her eyes narrowed as she considered. “I can’t Test him, of course, but I could attempt a vision.”

Another puff escaped from Stven, and M’Sada was forced to leave again.

*****

Shortly after sundown, a woman approached the ship and asked permission to enter. A Great Cat brought her to the lounge where Stven and Borg confronted her. Dressed in an immaculate Empire uniform, pins denoting the rank of commander shone at the collar of her white blouse. Blue eyes settled first on the dragon, then went to Borg.

Stven was brusque. “Who are you, and what is your purpose here?”

“Who I am is unimportant,” she replied, her gaze continuing to focus on Borg. “I am here on behalf of one of your People.”

“Where is he?”

“She. Great Cats are no longer welcome here, but we have observed several of you coming and going from your ship. Very unusual. She requests retrieval.”

“That word has special meaning.”

“I know. She’s seriously wounded. She’s been hiding out, and we could not get her to a restoration tank.”

“Who is ‘we?’”

“She told me I could risk telling you that a small group of us have come together to resist the Rebels.”

“Where is she?”

“Just outside the port. I’ll take you to her.”

“No. You’re temporarily confined to the ship. Tell me where she is. I’ll send someone else. Is she mobile?”

“She is, but just barely.”

Borg detailed a cat to make the retrieval, but the woman corrected him. “Send two. They will be noticed, and one will have to remain behind for a while. They’ve been looking for her, and if three Great Cats come through the gate when only two left, they will know who the third is.”

The cats left, and Borg began prowling the room. “Your words betray little, but they infer much. Who are you?”

“I am Commander Akurea Skvechavka’a, and I’m here to warn you. You are in grave danger.”

“Explain.”

“Admiral Mzdak was warned that he might receive a visit by a woman traveling on a small ship and that she would be accompanied by Protectors. He was expecting a much smaller ship, but if you are that ship, you are to be apprehended. He’s taken his instructions a step further and contrived a deception. He believes this woman can lead him to the leader of the resistance movement. Your sister will confirm what I say.”

Tarn and Krys were called. O’Brien and Washburn showed up with them and Skvechavka’a was introduced, but the courtesy was not returned. It was a clear and intentional omission.

“May I ask who you are?” Commander Skvechavka’a asked.

“If we tell you, you will have to remain aboard,” Bross replied.

“I think your sister will convince you otherwise,” she said. “I’ll agree to your terms if she does not.”

Krys stepped forward and placed her Knight’s pin in Akurea’s hand, then opened it.

Akurea took a step back, then quickly went to one knee. “My Lady, you confirm what the Great Cat told us, and I now understand why the Rebels hold so much interest in you.”

“What has she told you?”

“That we have a Queen and that the Queen is counting on us to stay the course. She believes our efforts here will have a material impact on the Queen’s success.”

“And just what are those efforts?”

Before she could answer, two Great Cats came into the lounge, and all eyes turned to the second in line. She staggered into the room with glazed eyes. One front hand was missing and a terrible, festering burn stretched from her shoulder to her tail, exposing the bones of her ribs to the air.

Krys instantly went to her, turning a scathing look on her escort. “Why are these wounds not covered?” she demanded.

“The bandages would have been a dead give-away,” the Great Cat answered. “We had to remove them to enter the port. It’s dark out, and I do not believe anyone noticed.”

The Great Cat collapsed at her feet. Even Borg, not known for his gentleness, came to her and placed a hand on her neck. He spoke a few words in his own language, and the cat replied at length in that language, then lay her head on the floor and closed her eyes.

Borg turned to Krys. “Her name is Flan. She needs the Tank, My Lady.”

“By all means. Can she get to it?”

Flan struggled to her feet and was escorted from the room. Krys turned to Borg. “What did she say?”

“She’s from Buskin. She came as a back-up pilot in case they ran into trouble, but the crew was killed as soon as they delivered their message. The ship left without her, but it was shot down. Her working name is Flan. She was patrolling outside the headquarters when she was attacked. As you can see, she barely escaped.”