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  “You think he’ll remember all the codes and accounts?” Wil asked as he bit his nails.

  “Nope,” Christine answered with a shake of her head. “He probably only had a small part of what we need to find, and it’ll be on Trono del Terra, no doubt. I’m willing to bet we won’t be here long.”

  “The Belle departs back to Trono del Terra in a day, and then on to Avalon afterward,” Wil mused. He looked at her in surprise. “Did you plan all that in advance?”

  “Yeah.” She nodded. “I didn’t want to scramble for a ship later, no matter what happens next.”

  “Not bad.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Then what do we do?” Wil asked.

  Christine pursed her lips, deep in thought. While the idea of restarting Jericho was alluring, it was too well known now for any activity to be associated with it. There were still agents out in the field who might not know they’d potentially been burned yet. Part of her job would be to bring those lost and wayward souls in to somewhere safe. Given that a civil war was ongoing, the only places she could consider safe were out on the Fringe, which was always in a constant state of alert due to the Abassi threat.

  “I’m not sure yet,” she admitted. “My main concern right now is to get the ball rolling.”

  “Not to sound like a stick in the mud here, but, ah,” he pointed at her stomach, “what about that?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Have you even seen a doctor yet?”

  “Well, no…”

  “Prenatal care is important for a developing baby!” Wil stated. His brow furrowed as he continued, “You could be later in term than you thought. You could give birth right in the middle of an op!”

  “That’d be hilarious,” Christine muttered darkly. She shook her head. “Look. A woman’s body evolved to carry a baby long before advanced medicine came along. Healthcare just ups the survival rate for baby and mother, okay? Now drop it. My back hurts, my boobs are sore, my feet are killing me, and I really want to eat something bad for me. I would murder someone right now for fried chocolate, and I don’t even know why. Do not mess with me.”

  “Okay, sorry.” Wil raised his hands, palms out. “Peace?”

  “I won’t kill you just yet,” she allowed, though she smiled a little to take the edge off.

  She’d known Wil for a long time, even before she’d met Andrew. They’d shared a few courses while attending the DIB Academy on Trono del Terra, and their mutual love of technology had brought them into close proximity, but they’d also known each other during primary school on Ceres. The duo had been study buddies, along with a few other classmates, but nothing more. The arrangement had suited them just fine. Christine had been too busy completing the Academy to notice boys, and Wil had been too awkward to even try. Most of their classmates had assumed they were siblings at first, due to their similarity in appearance.

  It was common enough on Ceres for non-relatives to look alike. The descendants of the original settlers had been an odd mixture of Hispanic and subcontinental Asian, which explained their different attitude when compared to the other Core worlds. After seven hundred years with little influx of new blood, everyone shared some similar traits. The crowded and overpopulated city of Avante, where both Christine and Wil had grown up, featured many shared characteristics and features among the populace.

  Belle of the Ball shifted slightly, and the inertial compensators adjusted the gravity in the room. Both agents felt the movement, and their eyes went to the vidscreen, an artificial viewer showing the outside of the ship. In this case, it was a beautiful shot of the north pole of Corus. It was a brief view, however, as the angle of the camera on the hull of the ship shifted horizontally, and the Orbital Station of Corus came into view.

  Christine whistled softly. “That thing is huge.”

  Indeed, it was. Measuring over fifty kilometers from end to end, the Corus Orbital Station—called COSine by the locals, though Christine had no idea why—could easily handle two hundred civilian vessels at a time. In times of war, more than fifty Dominion Navy ships could berth there. It was slightly hazardous and strenuous on the personnel who happened to be on duty, but the station could manage.

  Built during the construction of MITC, COSine was also one of the oldest stations in the Dominion. It featured an Earth-inspired hammerhead design, which had been the norm for centuries, before leaps in technology had allowed humanity to develop artificial gravity. However, there had been nothing structurally wrong with the blueprint plans, so the designers of the station had stuck with the tried-and-true methodology, then implemented artificial gravity. It had led to a robust design many engineers predicted would outlast the Dominion.

  Christine was doubtful of that prediction. Corus, thanks to Wraith Tech, was a military target. Prince Edward and Prince Ezekiel both coveted the world—or, more accurately, the Wraiths who came from it. Christine and Wil agreed that whoever controlled the Wraiths would win the war.

  She found it a bit odd. Imperfects, who were shunned and treated like animals at the best of times by those in the Core worlds, would end up being the ultimate factor in “Edward’s Rebellion,” which was what some of the more biased news agencies were calling it. The “Kin War” was what the unbiased mainstream media had christened the Dominion civil war. Oddly enough, those all had headquarters on Avalon, Laird McCarroll’s home world. She’d anticipated it being the other way around. Perhaps not everything is as it first appears, Christine thought as she recalled some important tidbits of information her boyfriend had told her.

  Andrew had been amused when she’d brought up the public’s perceived opinion of the value of Wraiths, and the counterintuitive assumption of their own worthlessness, while they’d been together on Solomon. His words were still fresh in her mind.

  “It’s not the Wraiths the detractors need to worry about,” he’d told her while having a moment of peace and solitude together. “Gabriel is a Darkling, and if a Darkling assumes command of the Wraiths, they’re bound to follow his orders until countermanded directly by either the commandant or a member of the royal family. Gabe can end this war with one quick, brutal stroke if he wants to. Think about that for a moment.”

  She’d thought about it long and hard. The idea that the Emperor held absolute rule over the Dominion had never bothered her in the past. Safe in the Core worlds, the lords and ladies of the Upper House of Parliament had ruled their worlds with relatively little interference by the now-deceased emperor. The arrangement had suited the nobles, who had wanted far more autonomy and less power from the throne, and the populace had more or less ignored the potential downsides. Christine counted herself as one of those who’d simply kept their heads down and ignored what was going on around her. It had taken the emperor’s death to open Christine’s eyes to the potential problems inherent in the situation.

  She’d given a lot of thought to what sort of government the Dominion needed to sustain itself. Upon being founded, the Dominion of Man had been a representative monarchy, but that had fallen to outside corruption as weak-willed rulers had led the Dominion over the years, while the nobility had grown stronger and stronger. The common people were no longer led by representatives, but by a bought-and-paid-for group of politicians. It was borderline feudal now, with the nobility ruling their pockets of space with no checks to their power.

  It had been that way in every democratic regime in history, she recalled. Any type of government where votes were counted could be corrupted, elections rigged, and the process subverted. There were few safeguards against a well-oiled political machine ruling against the people. Unfortunately for her, she had no idea what other type of government would be better suited. The current format of the Dominion needed to work, Christine knew deep within her heart, even if it was flawed. There really was no viable alternative.

  She shook off the thought as the Belle connected with the station. Involuntarily taking a step forward, Christine grabbed a small handle, installed on he
r cabin’s wall for just such a need, before glancing at Wil. The tech had stumbled slightly and smiled ruefully when he realized she’d seen him.

  “I always lacked space legs,” he told her. She scoffed and looked back at the vid. The Belle had connected cleanly with the docking tube, and she watched as the airlock cycle secured itself. A minute later, the tube pulled back and the formerly snake-like tube became a solid platform. She knew from experience that the artificial gravity within the tube was being activated, and the ship wasn’t being powered by the station. Sure enough, the lights of their room flickered briefly before power came back fully. The Belle was now sharing power with the station.

  “Attention, passengers,” a voice crackled over the ship’s comms. Both Christine and Wil looked up at the small vid, which showed the face of the Belle’s first officer. “We have arrived at Corus Orbital Station. Please ensure your luggage is collected and all your possessions are in hand before you exit the ship through the doorway, and not into space. We don’t want our safety record of two hours without an accident to be marred. Thank you for riding with us, and we hope all your future travels include Belle of the Ball.”

  Wil snorted, and even Christine had to chuckle at that. She’d guessed that the crew of the Belle were an odd sort when they’d departed from Solomon, and the departure speech had confirmed it. It was fortunate she’d booked them for the next leg of her journey. The less questions asked, the smoother things would go. Especially, she thought as they moved out of their private berthing area and into the common room near the exit, since I’m still technically a fugitive.

  Their false identification cards held up under scrutiny as they passed through the checkpoint inside the landing terminal. Unlike most worlds of the Dominion, Corus forced all incoming passengers to be screened as potential espionage threats by the DIA. The biggest worry was the Caliphate, but after the Seiji Affair years prior, they also checked for spies from the Domai Republic. While the Dominion Intelligence Agency was a threat to any persons attempting to commit acts of espionage, they paled in comparison to the investigative talents of the Deebs. For which Christine was very thankful.

  Finding transportation to Mechanized Infantry Training Command was actually rather simple, she discovered. Getting through the checkpoint had been the key. Once past, she found a line of vehicles outside the terminal. After a quick check with one of the drivers, Christine was more than a little surprised to find there were regular trips out to MITC. Upon further inquiry, she discovered why.

  “Politicians and their flunkies come here a lot,” the driver said as he helped them put their luggage into the boot of his vehicle. He slammed it closed and looked back at the duo. “The lords and ladies don’t come through the public terminal. They’ve got the money to fly in direct. But everyone else flies in and goes out there for tours and stuff.”

  “Why?” Wil asked as he got into the vehicle. Christine allowed the driver to help her with the door, her unwieldly torso beginning to pose a problem. She managed to angle her body in and more or less fell into the seat. Fortunately for her, it was padded, and she shifted her legs around to sit more naturally. She gave Wil a look that the technician missed, his nose buried deep in his datapad.

  “They say it’s because they like to see where all the money they’re spending is going,” the driver answered as he slid into his seat. He pushed a sequence of buttons on the console before him, and the vehicle slowly pulled away from the terminal. “I think it’s something else, though.”

  “Like what?” Christine asked, curious. Her hand went to her belly as the baby shifted slightly, and she winced as a well-placed foot impacted her kidney. Calm down, child, she thought. This is real gravity. No need to beat me up over the trip.

  “You get to see your nightmare in a controlled environment,” the driver explained as the vehicle accelerated quickly. The small landing city rapidly disappeared in the rearview mirror. “A lot of the people who are elected to be representatives have only seen media reports about Wraiths, you know? Big, scary Wraiths that only the emperor commands. Well, ‘commanded’ now, I guess, until this whole mess with the twins is figured out. Hmm…that’s a thought.”

  “What?” Christine looked toward the driver, who was looking at her in the mirror.

  “I wonder who’s commanding the Wraiths,” he said. “That’s the person who’s going to lead the Dominion, and probably end up determining who rules us, as well. Considering they’re supposed to all be insane…scary thought.”

  You have no idea, Christine thought as they continued onward to MITC.

  * * *

  Christine walked—waddled, she silently groused as her hips started to ache—up to the armed sentry at the main gate. Their taxi driver hadn’t offered to take them onto the actual base, opting instead to leave them just outside. Considering the entire base was surrounded by a tall chain-link fence, topped with razor-sharp concertina wire, she could hardly blame him. In addition, the two Wraith guards in their fully-kitted power armor looked intimidating to anyone who’d never dealt with them before.

  Christine, on the other hand, had experienced Gabriel in full-on psychotic mode while wearing a Darksuit. Though she’d known on an intellectual level he wasn’t going to kill his brother, the rampaging Darkling had left an indelible impression upon the young spy, because for a moment Andrew hadn’t known that Gabriel knew precisely who was in the guise of Darius Hastings. After that terrifying—yet hilarious—instance, the standard Mark Six suits standing still and not threatening anyone were a piece of cake for her.

  Wil was properly cowed, though. They’d put the fear of God in him on Solomon, and they continued to do so now, even though one of his closest friends was a Wraith recruiter. He couldn’t tear his gaze away from the massive suits, his eyes flicking between the two as they approached. It would’ve been funny to Christine, had the situation been different.

  “I’m sorry, but the base is closed to the public,” the Wraith on their right said as they drew closer. He sounded bored, as though the public made a habit of doing something very much like this on a regular basis. “We don’t give public tours. Given your obvious condition, I’d be more than willing to signal for a vehicle to come and take you back into town.”

  “I need to speak with the commandant,” Christine announced.

  “Really, now?” the second Wraith’s questioning tone was evident through the speaker in his helmet.

  “Really,” she affirmed. “If you don’t believe me, you can pass along a phrase, and he’ll agree to see us.”

  “I don’t believe you,” the first Wraith admitted. “But I’m bored, so go ahead. What phrase do you want me to pass along?”

  “‘The walls have fallen,’” Christine recited Chief Gan’s code phrase from memory, “‘and it was by a red herring.’ Please, make sure you repeat that word for word.”

  “Walls have fallen, red herring,” the Wraith repeated, confusion evident in his voice.

  Christine repeated the phrase. “And make sure you forward it to him exactly the way I phrased it. Don’t shorten it or change anything,” she added.

  “One second,” the Wraith said and half-turned. Christine crossed her arms and immediately regretted the movement as her back began to ache again.

  “I don’t think this is going to work,” Wil said as he tried to stay as far away from the two guards as possible.

  “Gan wouldn’t send me on a wild goose chase,” Christine reminded him. “He had backup plans for his backup plans. I think we’re on Plan H right now, but it could be Plan J. I’m not certain. I lost count a while back.”

  “What do you mean?” Wil asked, confused. “How do you lose track of the plan?”

  “What’s your name, Miss?” the first Wraith interrupted them. Christine turned to answer.

  “Jane Cobb,” she replied. “Sent by Intelligence Chief Zhu Gan.”

  “Who’s the scrub?” the Wraith asked as he jerked his helmet toward Wil.

  “He’s
a tech who’s helped me along the way,” Christine replied. “He’s part of my organization.”

  “And what organization is that?”

  “Need to know,” Christine stated in a calm voice, “and, no offense, you don’t need to know.”

  “Commandant’s sending transportation to fetch you,” the Wraith told them after a moment’s pause. “He listened in just now, and he’s eager to meet you both. Especially you, Agent Cobb.”

  “How did you…wait, you’ve already scanned my data info, haven’t you?”

  “Yes, ma’am.” the Wraith nodded. His tone was much more polite than before. “It’s part of our job. But think of it this way—we can tell your ID is a fake, but we don’t care, since it was obviously issued by a government agency within the Dominion. We’re not police officers, ma’am. Plus, he’s already cleared you due to your message.”

  “Uh, that’s good to know.” Christine was confused. She’d known she’d get through to the commandant eventually, but not this quickly. It was a bit alarming that he wanted to meet with them so soon after their message had been passed. Christine had anticipated waiting a few hours, if not longer. “He’s sending a vehicle right now?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” the second Wraith affirmed. “I’d offer you a seat but—ah, there’s your ride now.”

  “Whatever your message was, ma’am, it sure did the trick,” the first Wraith commented as a small, open-topped car came into view. It wasn’t exactly speeding, but it was obvious to Christine and Wil that it was in a hurry.

  “Thank you both for humoring us,” Christine told the duo as the vehicle came to an abrupt halt inside the gate. The entry began to slide open as a small motor next to the gate activated.

  “Take care, ma’am,” the Wraith said as she and Wil passed through the gate. The driver of the open-topped vehicle was an older man who looked vaguely familiar to Christine, though for the life of her she knew she’d never met the late-middle-aged man before. However, he doffed a casual salute to her as she carefully worked her way into the front seat. Wil, unspoken protest dying on his lips at a look from the officer, clambered into the back.