surmised.
“No, sir, other than his transponder codes.”
“Yeah. And according to ours, we’re the Volander,” Cameron reminded her.
“Would you like me to hail them, sir?” the communications officer asked.
“In what? Angla? What if it’s not them?” Cameron thought for a moment, admonishing herself for discussing her options so openly with the crew. She was sure that Captain Roberts would not have done so. “Any idea what the other ships are?”
Kaylah touched each icon in the formation, calling up line drawings and what little information the ship’s sensors could offer. “Well, they’re not combatants, that’s for sure,” Ensign Yosef said, breathing a sigh of relief. “If I had to guess, I’d say they’re cargo shuttles of some sort.”
“Commander,” the communications officer called. “I’m getting a message on one of our tactical comm channels. The ID code belongs to Ensign Mendez.”
“Put him on,” Cameron ordered, feeling somewhat relieved.
“Volander, this is Mendez.”
“Go ahead, Ensign,” Cameron said.
“Sergeant Weatherly and I are on Tobin’s ship. We’re inbound to you, escorting three ships that will be used for the harvesting operations. According to Tobin, our ship and the two larger shuttles will be landing in the hangar bay, while the smaller one begins the harvesting operation.”
“Where’s the captain?” Cameron asked.
“He’s still on the surface, sir, shopping with the rest of the landing party.”
“Shopping?”
“Yes, sir. Ensign Nash asked me to secure the hangar deck during the harvesting op in her absence.”
“Understood. Contact me when you’re back on board, Ensign. You can fill me in on the shopping part.”
“Yes, sir. Mendez out.”
“This ought to be interesting,” Cameron decided.
“That ain’t no Volonese ship,” the old man mumbled.
“Sure she is,” Ensign Mendez tried to play off.
“Volonese ships look like a bunch of boxes all tied together,” the old man argued. “That there ship is too pretty to be Volonese.”
Mendez said nothing, figuring he wasn’t going to be able to convince the man otherwise.
“Looks like she’s been in a fight as well,” he added. He looked sideways at Mendez. “Don’t worry, boy. Ain’t no Takar-lovers on Haven, that’s for sure. Your secrets are safe with us.”
A few minutes later, three of the four ships were rolling into the Aurora’s hangar bay. The hatch on Tobin’s ship, which was the first one into the bay, was deploying as the ship rolled to a stop of to one side at the aft end of the bay.
“You don’t want to go any deeper into the bay?” Mendez asked Tobin as he rose from his seat.
“I will be returning to Haven directly,” Tobin offered. “I do not want to leave the others without transportation any longer than necessary.”
“Sounds good,” Mendez said as he headed out the hatch.
The other two cargo shuttles had already pulled to a stop about halfway into the massive hangar bay and were dropping open their large, rear cargo doors. They were not very attractive ships, basically boxes with four swivel-mounted engines, one on each corner, with a flight deck that looked like half an egg stuck onto the front.
As soon as their big door-ramps hit the deck, they started rolling out large carts, followed by some type of processing apparatus. At least ten workers poured out of each of the two cargo shuttles. The workers, both men and women, did not appear as healthy as the four that had ridden with them in Tobin’s ship. Their faces were sullen and devoid of hope, their manner deliberate and paced.
“We’re gonna need power for the processors,” the old man that had sat next to Mendez in Tobin’s ship told him.
“Who are these people?” Mendez asked.
“Just workers,” the old man told him as he headed toward the cargo shuttles. Mendez watched as the old man and his companions began hollering orders at the disheveled groups of workers disembarking from the cargo ships. Some of the workers cringed and flinched in fear of the old man and his cohorts.
“Something tells me this ain’t right,” Mendez said to Sergeant Weatherly. The sergeant simply nodded his agreement. “Keep an eye on things here. I’m gonna round up a few more people to help you out. None of them leaves the hangar bay, understood?”
“Yes, sir,” the sergeant answered.
Vladimir and Danik were busy rummaging through various used parts on a vendor’s table. They had been browsing the parts dealers on the back side of the spaceport for more than an hour, and as best as Nathan could tell, Vladimir had not found anything of interest.
“Why don’t the Takarans come here?” Nathan asked Jalea.
“The resources harvested from the rings are important to many systems, including some in Takar space. Disruption of the operations here would likely result in unwanted economic repercussions within their own domain,” Jalea explained.
“And because the Takarans don’t come here, everyone looking to hide from them do,” Jessica surmised.
“Yes, but safety is not guaranteed on Haven,” Jalea warned. “As you can well imagine, spies are everywhere. I have no doubt that the Takar have operatives here. It would be foolish to assume otherwise.”
“How does the controlling family of Haven feel about that?” Nathan asked.
“I doubt they care,” Jalea assured him. “As long as their activity does not interfere with business.”
“And by business, you mean the collection of fees,” Nathan said.
“You learn quickly, Nathan,” Jalea complimented.
“Not really. Our history is full of similar examples.”
“Ah, yes. We have a saying: ‘Times change, but the human animal does not.’”
Vladimir came walking up to them, dusting off his hands as he approached. “I can find nothing here of use. Maybe, if I had more time, and I knew what most of this stuff was, I might find something. I am sorry, my friend.”
“No matter,” Nathan assured him.
“It is probably best that we head back to the produce area,” Jalea told them. “The gentleman we spoke with earlier will be packing up and leaving soon.”
“The last message I got from Ensign Nash was that they were planning to meet with some local farmer later in the day,” Ensign Mendez reported to Cameron on the bridge. “They were planning to travel out to some guy’s farm to secure a large order of something called molo.”
Cameron’s face withdrew slightly and the unknown word. “Molo?”
“Some kind of fungus or something. Jess-I mean, Ensign Nash-says it’s a cross between a mushroom and tofu,” Mendez chuckled. “I got the impression she didn’t care for it.”
“Doesn’t sound too appetizing, does it?” Cameron agreed.
“Anyway, the stuff grows like crazy. We saw whole sheets of it covering hundreds of square meters when we flew in. Tobin says it’s very nutritious, although kind of bland. He says you can do a lot with it, though. Apparently it’s the mainstay of their diet on Haven.”
Cameron was not happy that the rest of the landing party was still on the surface. With Ensign Mendez and Sergeant Weatherly back on the ship, the landing party’s security element was now reduced by half. She knew that Jessica was well-trained, and she had proven her abilities in combat twice in the last week. Cameron, however, had expected the trip to last only a few hours, and now it looked like they would be on the surface considerably longer than that.
“Did they say when they would be checking in again?”
“They plan to make contact when they get out to the guy’s farm. Ensign Nash doesn’t want to use the tight- beam array out in the open-too conspicuous and all that. Out on the farm, they can use it without attracting
