like that, sir.”
“And you’re already causing trouble.”
Vanderveen didn’t see it that way, but said, “Yes, sir.”
“We don’t have a consulate on Sensa II, do we?”
“No, sir.”
“And you want to go there. Am I correct?”
“It seems like an important opportunity, sir.”
Nankool grinned broadly. “Holson will be pissed.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Okay, I’ll talk to the navy. Hopefully, they have a suitable vessel in the area. They will contact you.”
“Yes, sir. Thank you.”
At that point, Vanderveen expected Nankool to break off the conversation, but he didn’t. A serious expression appeared on his face. “Christine… There is a dispatch on the way to you via normal channels. And I’m sorry to say that it contains some very bad news.”
Vanderveen felt the bottom drop out of her stomach. Santana. It had to be Santana. Nankool knew him, as did her father. She bit her lower lip in an effort to fight back the tears. “Yes?”
“It’s your mother, Christine… She was killed in action during a raid. The nature of the mission is classified, so I can’t give any details. But suffice it to say that a number of people owe their lives to her bravery. Margaret was an extraordinary woman.”
Vanderveen managed to say, “Thank you for letting me know,” though she was crying as the little screen went black. Her mother dead? It didn’t seem possible. Her father would be devastated.
Vanderveen wanted to retreat to her quarters but couldn’t do so without being seen. So she locked the door to her office and curled up on the couch. Sobs racked her body, shadows crept across the room, and the war continued.
ABOARD THE CONFEDERACY MINESWEEPER 10 IN ORBIT AROUND SENSA II
According to all of the information that Vanderveen had been able to get, the city of Heferi was a very dangerous place. For that reason, the Io ’s commanding officer, LTJG Craig Sullivan, insisted on going with her. Which should have been fine except that the diplomat couldn’t tell if Sullivan was going to be an asset or a liability. He looked as if he wasn’t a day over eighteen. But as his XO, a chief warrant officer named Lopez, had told Vanderveen during the trip out, “Don’t let the schoolboy looks fool you. It takes balls to disarm a mine. And brains, too. He’s a little uptight, but that will wear off.”
Except now, due to Vanderveen’s need to reach Sensa II quickly, the boyish officer was about to accompany her down to the surface of a very dangerous planet, a task that was very different from neutralizing mines. Was he up to it? There wasn’t any choice. He had to be.
The officer eyed her skeptically as First Class Petty Officer Mubu entered the Io ’s tiny mess and dumped an armload of weapons onto the metal table. “No offense, ma’am, but are you familiar with small arms?” Sullivan wanted to know.
“Never seen one before,” Vanderveen deadpanned as she chose a semiauto handgun and released the magazine. Then, with the expertise born of considerable practice, she began to slip cartridges into the clip. “This will do as a primary-assuming you have more magazines for it. But I’d like something smaller for a backup. Plus a decent flick-blade.”
Sullivan smiled wryly. “Who knew that diplomats were so familiar with weapons?”
Vanderveen smiled. “It helps to speak softly and carry a big gun. Speaking of which, what have we got for heavy artillery? From what I hear, the people on Sensa II are well armed.”
“That’s where this bad boy comes in,” Mubu said, as he cradled a pulse cannon in his arms. He had dark skin, broad cheekbones, and extremely white teeth. “I could stop a tank with this puppy.”
Vanderveen nodded. “I hope you won’t have to. Let’s get ready, gentlemen. The sooner we get dirtside, the better.”
It took all of three hours to complete their preparations, get the necessary landing clearances, and enter the planet’s frequently turbulent atmosphere. Rather than bring the navy minesweeper down and get the locals all stirred up, Sullivan had elected to use one of the ship’s two shuttles. He had the cockpit to himself, and the others were seated behind him in the multipurpose cargo compartment.
Heferi was on the dark side of the planet at the moment. And since it was the only city on Sensa II, Vanderveen found herself staring out a viewport into stygian blackness as the tiny vessel leveled out over what she assumed was desert. And that was how things remained until Sullivan’s voice came over the intercom ten minutes later. “I have visual contact with Heferi-and we’ve been cleared to land. Check your harnesses, say your prayers, and don’t soil my seats. You’ll clean ’em if you do.”
With that cheerful admonition, the shuttle began to slow, dropped down into the valley that lay between two mountainous dunes, and circled the cluster of lights below. As Vanderveen looked out through the viewport, she saw three red tracers blink into existence and curve toward the ship. Target practice perhaps? Or someone hoping to bring the shuttle down so they could loot the wreckage?
She could only guess as the cannon shells sailed past and vanished from sight. The shuttle seemed to pause in midair as Sullivan fired the repellers, and the ship settled onto a brightly lit “X.” Then, acting on instructions from air traffic control, Sullivan took off again and scooted the boat into a slot between a Thraki freighter and a disreputable-looking yacht. “Welcome to Heferi,” Sullivan said, as the skids touched down for the second time. “I hope we find the Queen quickly. The locals charge two hundred credits an hour to park here.”
Vanderveen wasn’t too worried about money, having signed for fifty thousand back on Trevia, but she was in agreement nevertheless. The Ramanthian assassins could have been on the ground for a full rotation already. She felt a rising sense of impatience as she came up out of her seat. “Let’s gear up and hit the dirt. We have work to do.”
After leaving a large cash deposit with the spaceport’s heavily guarded cashier, the threesome was free to leave the facility and enter the dimly lit streets beyond. They were dressed in civilian clothing to blend in with the local population.
A dozen would-be bodyguards were waiting to greet them as they emerged, along with a bevy of drug dealers, prostitutes, and guides. They rushed to surround the newcomers but fell back when the heavily armed Mubu stepped forward.
Vanderveen eyed the people arrayed in front of her, spotted a one-legged man on crutches, and pointed at him. “ You. Yes, you. We need a guide. I’ll pay fifty credits for the next five hours of your time.”
The man grinned broadly. His cheeks were unshaven, half his nose was missing, and his teeth were brown. “You chose well,” he cackled. “I know Heferi like the back of my hand.”
“Are you sure about this?” Sullivan wanted to know. “Why him?”
“Because he can’t outrun us,” Vanderveen replied.
Sullivan gave her an admiring glance as the newly hired guide hopped toward them. His clothes were ragged, and a sour smell surrounded him. Vanderveen wrinkled her nose. “What’s your name?”
“It’s William. But everybody calls me Billy.”
“Well, Billy… We’re looking for some bugs. Some of them arrived in the last day or so. Ring any bells?”
Billy shook his head. “No, ma’am. Sorry, ma’am. But that don’t mean they ain’t here. I work nights. It’s cooler then. Maybe they landed during the day.”
Vanderveen nodded. “How ’bout bugs who have been here for a while? They would be secretive and well protected.”
“Nope,” Billy said. “I’m not aware of anything like that. But I know where we can find out.”
“Good. What have you got in mind?”
“It’s a bar called Homer’s. All kinds of people hang out there. If your bugs are in Heferi, someone knows.”
“Okay,” Vanderveen agreed. “Take us there.”
It was only a three-block walk-but a scary one nevertheless. There were no streetlights. Just the occasional internally lit sign, the momentary spill of light from an open door, or the glow of luminescent graffiti. Billy’s crutches
