The Ritomari regimental commander who had devised the strategy was tried by the Imperial high court and executed, which didn’t comfort the Ordi greatly. The Accord was reached and signed by every state in the Empire inside a year, agreeing that the human factor must not be mandatory in the control of airlocks.
Apparently, the Imperial Shield considered itself above such laws. Or they just hadn’t got around to upgrading.
Either way, it made them vulnerable.
“So, Dalton comes with me as a stagehand or something,” I begun.
“Manager, would be better,” Lyth said.
Dalton grinned.
“But he stays on the ship, while I go into the base, which means security will be watching the ship.”
“Watching you, more like,” Dalton said, his voice dreamy.
“Security will passively watch the ship,” Lyth said. “When the nightline reaches the base, Dalton can slip out of the ship and walk around to the airlock, where you can let him in.”
Dalton’s smile evaporated. “Wait…it’s airless out there!”
Lyth nodded. “You will be wearing an environment suit—non-reflecting of both heat and infrared, so you won’t show on scans.”
“I don’t have a suit,” Dalton shot back, his face turning red.
“You will have in about three hours. It’s nearly done,” Lyth replied.
Dalton’s jaw worked. “I hate suits!”
It was my turn to smile.
“Okay, then,” I said.
18
We had four standard days to put everything into place, and it took all four of them, working nearly around the clock. We took sleep in snatches, ate for energy, also in snatches and usually standing up.
I learned a lot about Lyth’s capabilities in those four days.
First, we docked at Polyxene. Juliyana was the only one to step off the ship and that was to fake a signature on the invoice for solid state mass for the reaction engines and the secondary service engines that ran everything else on the ship that wasn’t part of the free-flowing living section…although Lyth’s construction nanobots diverted excess energy to help with the draw, too.
The entire time we paused at Polyxene, Lyth remained on the bridge, a still figure remotely monitoring the landing bay doors, the security feeds and watching for any alerts telling us we’d been coupled to the ship that had blasted its way back into the gates at Sh’Klea Sine.
“We need to develop unofficial fuel sources,” Dalton observed, watching Lyth’s unmoving shape.
“Later,” I said, in agreement. “Right now, we have other priorities.”
“They won’t matter a damn if pulling up at a station for fuel lands us in an Imperial net.”
“Then you find that source for us,” I said, irritated.
“I will!” he shot back and stalked off the bridge.
I felt a teeny bit sorry for him. He was suffering proactive claustrophobia, anticipating what, for him, would be the horror of being enclosed in an airtight suit. We had all carefully avoided telling him the suit was made of Lyth’s construction nanobots, pre-programmed to hold their shape even away from the reach of the ship. He’d find that even more terrifying.
After Polyxene, we took a three-phase jump to Keeler IV, which was Sagai’s homebase. The jump-jump-jump shaved fourteen hours off the direct jump, for we crisscrossed the empire in giant strides. Most ships went direct and put up with the time in the hole because they had to pay gate taxes, landing fees and more, all of which piled up when you crisscrossed. As the Lythion seemed to be able to circumvent the gates’ demands for compensation, the only factor we needed to take into consideration was the duration of the jump. That made the back-and-forth viable and this insane scheme do-able.
Juliyana slid through the Keeler landing bay doors into the station proper, a small pack over her shoulder, while we waited…and finished preparations.
Two hours later, she jogged back onto the Lythion, and reported in somewhat breathlessly to me. She wore the simple uniform of a deliveryman, and the shirt was ripped at the sleeve. I didn’t ask for explanations.
“Done,” Juliyana told me. “Secure. Let’s get the fuck out of here.”
Somewhere in the depths of the station, Juliyana had stashed the real Sagai Skylark with food and water, and a pad that would self-actuate in two days and let her send out a cry for help.
Lyth didn’t wait for my command. He connected with traffic control, got permission to leave, opened the external door, and lifted off.
Dalton held out a heavy duffel bag to me. “It’s time,” he said gruffly. He had a bigger bag over one shoulder.
I nodded and took the bag.
Lyth parked himself over Acean, carefully positioning himself so that whoever tried to take a look at the ship would be dazzled by the red sun directly behind him. “You’ll be out of range if you don’t leave in three minutes,” he warned us via the dropship’s interface. “Good luck,” he added.
I let Dalton take the controls. It would give him something to do and take his mind off the next few hours.
He piloted with more skill than I presumed he had, even though the ghost AI resident in the drop ship did most of the work. “You’ve been hanging out on freighters,” I said.
“Worked on more than one,” he said, still gruff. “It’s the only way to stay hidden, long term. Now shut up, I have to make nice with Acean security. And you have to get ready.”
Dalton spoke to Acean control without engaging imaging. He was polite, even charming, as they traded IDs for the drop ship and the station. I moved to the back of the ship and changed into the flamboyant daywear that Sagai Skylark was known for. Lyth had provided clothes, a full profile, and
