carrying much. She counted out the correct amount and watched the tray disappear. She received a few small one gram silver coins with holes in the centre that made them look like washers. They had a slight glint to them, and similar markings.
'Do you have a personal data device of some kind?'
Ayan held up her wrist so the official could see her command and control unit. It announced that it had received a new file a moment later and when Ayan opened it she found her new privateering licence. A drawer came out from the wall and Ayan picked up the contents. The stack of cards had their identification on the top, Carthan registration for every ship, and a scrolling copy of the privateering licence. Each data card allowed her to scroll through all the information contained within. “Those are your secure slips. They can only be written once, and will make a record of how often they’re copied. Keep your originals. Thank you for appearing at the Office of the Governor. Good luck.”
Ayan smiled back as she handed out the three identification cards at the top of the stack. 'Thank you, now that that's-'
The official's image began to retreat back into the wall.
'Oi!' Ayan exclaimed, irritated.
The image reappeared. 'Is there something else?'
'Yes. I need landing permits so my ships can make port in a proper facility.”
“You have all the clearance you need in your hand. Each of those registry slips is also a permit, as well as your official Carthan identification. Is there anything else I can do for you?”
“Can I rent or lease hangar space for my ships here?”
“I’m sorry, the Greydock Port Authority won’t be able to help you with that because you don’t have a visa.”
“Right. Do you know where I can buy supplies and food?'
'I'm afraid you can't buy them on Greydock without a war time purchaser's permit.'
'How do I get one?'
'I can start the process for you, but you won’t be able to use the purchasers permit without a visa.'
Ayan tried not to look frustrated, but the tightness in her voice betrayed her. 'Where else can I buy food?'
'Port Rush is the nearest free port, a lot of pira-, I mean privateers operate from there. If you can get off world you can find better places, but my brother-in-law has often said things are only getting worse in the nearby systems, but I wouldn’t believe everything he says, he was telling me just the other day that there are cannibals on Aquil, and issyrians who walk around in their native form on Krouper,' the officer cringed.
'Where's the nearest transport leaving for Port Rush?'
The official fixed her with a look of confusion and irritation. 'How am I supposed to know?'
Ayan exhaled slowly and nodded. 'Thank you for your help,' she said, keeping her composure as best as she could.
'You’re welcome. Enjoy your stay in Greydock and good luck.' The image of the official disappeared again and Ayan stepped out of the petitioner's divot.
'If they ever start issuing hunting licences for beaurocrats, count me in,' Victor muttered.
Ayan nodded. 'They have a talent for testing patience. At least we finally have a licence to go after Order and Regent ships and permission to move our ships. I think it was too easy though. It wouldn’t have been difficult for me to steal a ship from a small space station somewhere and just declare it my own once I got here.'
“I know I don’t have experience at your level of leadership, Commander, but I think it just shows how desperate they are. Maybe they just can’t afford to turn anyone down, even a potential ship thief,” Jenny offered.
'You’re probably right. I think I’m going to watch for a catch in all this though, there’s got to be a downside.”
'I call this a win,' Laura encouraged.
“Aye, one that could lead to something bigger later,' Ayan agreed with a curt nod.
'So, back to the wastes?' Victor asked.
'No, we're going to Port Rush.'
Chapter 20
Shadows played across the widening central corridors of the Triton. The emergency lights in that section had been deactivated, and Major Cumberland wasn’t about to order any of his people to try to change it. Attempting to interface with the ship’s computer, or to activate systems aboard had proven fatal for many soldiers in different parts of the ship. Cumberland’s men had been fortunate and intelligent, learning from the example of other soldiers.
His lamp illuminated the floor in front of him, where he could see lines indicating the proper direction for evacuees to take in order to get down to the hangar decks. He tried to shake the eerie feeling that there were no civilians left. They were facing dedicated volunteers, some of whom could disappear whenever they liked.
“Movement!” Called a sensor officer behind him.
Cumberland looked at the small display on his rifle and saw what he was referring to. With a quick hand signal, his remaining forty-two men and women dropped into a phalanx with the front row kneeling and the second row standing with rifles at the ready. He was right behind them with the sensor officer, and watched his own copy of the sensor feed. It was a small blip, and as he focused in he saw it was a small cleaning bot, buffing its way along the hallway ahead. “False alarm, move up.” Cumberland ordered quietly.
Loman’ group split into a room to their left, while Mazurek’s went right. According to the sonic sensors, they would be long work rooms. Major Cumberland instructed everyone else to keep watch in the hallway, they were just about to reach one of the main express lift access points, according to the intelligence he’d received from Command.
After several minutes both groups returned from the rooms. “Just a fine finishing, manufacturing and repair shop, sir. Looks like a lot of the ship’s bots come from this place,” Sergeant Loman reported.
“Same on this side,” Sergeant Mazurek agreed.
“All right, seal them up,” Cumberland ordered.
Soldiers applied several centimetres of grey material to the edges of the doors and lit one end. With a flash the doors were welded shut.
The group moved ahead quietly.
“I’ve got motion again, same as last time only there were a few blips and then it stopped,” complained the scanning officer.
“How many are a few, Private?” asked Mazurek.
“I don’t know, four? Five? Just up ahead.”
Cumberland played the last few seconds back and spotted it. “Same size, reading above. All right, move forward, keep your eyes peeled.” The whole group moved ahead, everyone watching all sides.
“Scanner’s getting low, sonic scanning is killing the cells,” reported the scanning officer.
“Someone give him a reserve pack.”
“This wouldn’t be a problem if these things still came with an AI to manage them. Can’t distinguish between a kitten and a Goddamn hungry edxi.”
“Quit yer’ bitchin’ and mind the scanner,” Sergeant Mazurek ordered. “And keep forwarding scans.”
“Manual forwarding, it’s like the first era all over again. Maybe I should strap some floodlights to my helmet and shout back whatever I’m seeing from point. I’d be faster, tell you that much.”
“I said can it.”
They arrived at the end of the corridor and fanned out. The walkway there widened so eight of them could walk abreast, but it looked even larger with the transparent wall and three meter high ceiling. Through the
