Chapter Two

Entering the atmosphere was miserable. Tessa hadn’t been shaken about so ruthlessly since taking a ride in a rocket carrying a weather satellite, and at least then she hadn’t minded due to being dead and in stasis.

Drexler turned an unnerving shade of green but held his composure otherwise. What he lacked in refinement, he seemed to make up for in grit. Tessa appreciated that about him. She couldn’t see the others to know how they were faring, but something told her the Golden would be just fine.

The woman in the flight suit returned once the ride smoothed out. They were now comfortably in suborbital flight. She braced herself in the aisle between the seats so that she could address the four passengers.

“There is no atmosphere where you’re going. This is not a very nice planet. You will not need a suit; we won’t be going outside. Be compliant. Be respectful. Follow all written safety guidelines and verbal instructions. We’ll be standing by to bring you back up as soon as you’re ready. Questions?”

Succinct and authoritative. Tessa approved.

Was this just some obscure component of Blue Label? The question mattered. A fair number of Blue Label personnel were facing inquiries due to the Commonwealth’s use of PMCs during the war.

If this wasBlue Label, that opened up a possible angle—but only if Tessa could prove it, which didn’t seem likely. It was already abundantly clear that these people were nothing if not meticulous in limiting their liability.

The landing was gentle, and the wait to disembark was mercifully brief. The muffled clunking of an atmosphere corridor attaching to the hatch was a reassuring, pleasantly tactile sound. The woman beckoned the man in gray first, and he shouldered his bag and stepped off the shuttle without hesitation. Tessa and Drexler followed for their first look at Logos from the ground.

The passage took them to a space that was at least something like a lobby, although with few features for comfort. The architecture was of the nakedly prefabricated variety favored by Galactic colonists: thick polymer panels and alloy beams with a generic, unthreatening blue color scheme.

The place had windows, and Tessa didn’t think twice about breaking away to look outside. There hadn’t been time to learn much about this planet, and very little information was publicly available. That stood to reason; Logos hadn’t been formally colonized, or even surveyed as far as Tessa knew. She could tell by feel that artificial gravity was pulling her down, so the real gravity had to be weak enough to justify that.

“Empress,” she murmured.

The gravelly stone that covered the surface was pedestrian enough: gray, green, and brown that blended together like a riverbank on Earth. The sky was another matter. The silvery storms in the atmosphere were more urgent and visible than Tessa had expected. She saw no lightning or electrical activity, but the strange, marbled clouds swirled as vigorously as if they were being stirred with a monolithic spoon.

Volcanos spewed glowing streaks into the sky in the distance. The magma, if that was what it was, was a deeper, more vibrant red than anything Tessa had ever seen. The volcanos had to be hundreds of kilometers away and they were so massive and numerous that it was like a distant wall. An entire range of mountains, all erupting at once. It was as frightening as it was beautiful.

The facility was respectably big, with several levels and wings. More importantly, just from this window she could see at least six landing pads, and they were all occupied by Ganraen Gull-class strike craft. The plump little gunships sat neatly with their wings folded. Tessa noted large-bore repeaters and missile pods, but she would need a closer look to be sure of what she was seeing.

She went back to Drexler, who was waiting with that woman from the shuttle by a lift. The nearby guards were careful about their positioning. There were only two, but still. Did these people expect their guests to come off the shuttle shooting? Maybe they did.

The guards wore Commonwealth space armor in a lightweight configuration. The suits were gray and some of the identifying marks had been removed. These suits were the Galactic equivalent of an Evagardian EV suit. They were bulkier, less elegant, and vastly inferior in energy efficiency, but had most of the same functions. The guards didn’t have their helmets deployed, which was a pity. Tessa had always liked the way that those helmets looked. They had a seam down the middle and a sharp, imposing visor that was much more interesting to look at than a featureless EV. One man carried a scattergun, and the other a submachine gun. It was all Galactic gear, but all reasonable in context.

Where had these PMCs come by those Gulls? Had some Ganraen general turned to dealing arms after the ceasefire?

The woman beckoned them into the lift and selected the second level.

“You should be comfortable in the canteen. Someone’ll come to get you,” she said. “Have a drink. Take it easy. Don’t worry about the volcanos.”

“I wasn’t expecting that,” Drexler admitted, and she smiled.

“Nobody does,” she replied, sounding friendly enough.

“Do they not stop?”

The woman shook her head.

The doors opened and they crossed a corridor to enter a modestly appointed dining room. It was something between a restaurant and a mess hall, and all but deserted. Two women shared a table near the beverage combiner. Tessa reflexively looked at her holo, but what difference did the time make? She wasn’t synced to this place, and she didn’t need a chrono to tell her that it obviously wasn’t mealtime.

She trailed Drexler to the combiners, where he bleakly punched in commands for a stiff drink. Tessa got Oolong and grabbed his arm when he tried to move toward the nearest table. She steered him to one with a window.

“Where’d that Golden go?” she asked as she peered out.

“They took him first,” Drexler said with a sigh.

“Richer than you?”

“I’m not the only rich guy. Just how much is this friend of yours worth?”

“A bit,” Tessa murmured.

“Enough that it’s possible someone else is here to bid on her? Like a Golden?”

“Not out of the question.”

“Why? What makes her special?”

Tessa wasn’t about to answer that out loud when it was possible that they were being recorded, and she wasn’t sure that she knew the correct answer in any case. Deilani had been aboard Sterling Station when it had been attacked. She’d met both the Admiral and the Empress. She’d been to Nidaros and interacted with Project Sunrise, albeit not in its weaponized form. And something had happened after Nidaros, but before she made it to the Julian, something that had ended up classified. Any one of those things would make Deilani a potential object of interest to foreign governments.

“Her charm,” Tessa said.

“Fine, don’t tell me. But if she’s so important, why aren’t your people here for her?”

Tessa hesitated. “Optics. Perhaps,” she added. She hadn’t shared her suspicions with him about Hopper and Imperial Security.

“What aren’t you telling me? This girl isn’t one of your New Unity terrorists, is she?”

Just the thought made Tessa smile. She sipped her tea and went back to looking out the window. The question didn’t deserve a response. She choked. Drexler saw it and stiffened.

“What?”

Tessa cleared her throat and set the cup down, taking a napkin to wipe her mouth. Trying not to smile, she inclined her head slightly toward the window.

“Those Gulls,” she said.

“Gulls?” Drexler looked baffled. “You mean those ships?”

“They aren’t ships. They’re props.”

“How can you tell?”

She beckoned and he leaned across the table to join her in looking. Tessa pointed at the sill outside, where tiny beads of moisture shone on the dull metal.

“It’s warm out there,” she said, pointing to a nearby vent. “That’s cool air. But those coolant tubes,” she pointed to the lines running across the landing pads. “Aren’t even frosted. So that, right there?” She tapped the window. “That isn’t water. Or anything like water. I think it’s metal. I think there’s Reebium or Cerium on this planet. And whoever built this airbase knows about it.”

“And what? The fake gear is supposed to scare people off? It’s not a very good fake if you can spot it in five seconds,” Drexler noted.

“It’s not meant to fool people up close.” It was meant to fool scans and imaging. But if these people had infantry support craft like that, they wouldn’t have been sitting out in the open in these conditions. They’d have been in hangars. They weren’t real. Or if they were, they probably weren’t operable. Tessa chewed her lip thoughtfully. Maybe someone else was here. Nothing that went on this far out would be making any mainstream headlines. It was simple enough to imagine different interests jockeying for the opportunity to get rare metals without oversight.

“What’s that mean for us?”

Tessa took in the nearly deserted canteen. It probably meant that this facility wasn’t as substantial as it looked. Her eyes fell on a massive excavator between two of the landing pads. The vehicle was larger than the aircraft. It was what they must’ve used to level all this before slapping down this prefab habitat and throwing together some scary-looking gunships.

“Nothing,” she said to Drexler.

“Is this going to be expensive?”

“Does it matter?”

“It might,” he replied.

Tessa held his gaze and shook her head. “It doesn’t.”

He sighed. “You people are a lot.” He shook his finger at the window. “I heard about something like this. On Old Earth. People trying to fake out their enemies. Maybe things haven’t changed so much after all since your Empress kicked everyone out.”

“Everyone had the option to stay,” Tessa murmured, picking up her tea.

“Not everyone responds well to threats,” Drexler countered.

“Mm. How’s that working out for them?” Tessa replied disinterestedly.

Drexler gave her a look. “For the people of Little Norwich? Or New Sochi? Not great.”

Tessa couldn’t argue with that. “I’m sorry. That was insensitive.”

He stared at her, as though unsure if she were serious. Then he shook his head.

“You people are so weird.” He finished his drink and pushed his chair back. “You want another one?”

The wait was just over an hour.

They were taken to an office whose awfulness was almost physically painful. The space was not especially large, and so full of sporting memorabilia that it looked like a gift shop. That, Tessa might have forgiven if the moving posters, holograms, and baubles had been attached to something respectable.

But at least half the objects in the room were from the Baykara Games. Tessa’s heart rate spiked as she stepped through the door, taking in the pictures of fighters and prisoners, banners, and collectible prop weapons and statuettes. The dominant colors were purple and gold. It was loathsome.

The woman who welcomed them in wore white leggings, flats, and a sporty, collared shirt that was clearly licensed Baykara merchandise. Names and dates were printed proudly on the breast and back, which Tessa realized had to correspond to a specific fight or event that this woman must have attended. She wore artificially dark hair in a Galactic, professional style. The smoothness of her skin and particularly her forehead suggested some de-aging tech had been used that had not been top-of-the-line.

Her smile sparkled as she invited them to the two chairs in front of her desk, which was rather conspicuously missing a nameplate. She had a nice holo setup, but it was powered down. She sat and smiled at them.

“Welcome. Thanks for coming all this way,” she said warmly.

“Uh, you’re welcome,” Drexler replied awkwardly.

Seconds passed.

“This is the part where you would make an offer,” she prompted.

Tessa had been afraid of this. She heard Drexler take a deep breath.

“What’s the going rate in these types of situations?” he asked dryly.

“Going rate,” the woman echoed, holding his gaze. “Are you under the mistaken impression that something is being sold?”

Drexler hesitated. “Yes,” he replied, glancing at Tessa. “I guess.”

“You think we’re selling human beings here? We’d be no better than the Free Trade savages at the Bazaar,” the woman replied.

“What was your name?” Tessa cut in.

She woman didn’t miss a beat. “Jane,” she replied.

“I knew we were playing games with the Jane Doe part, but what’s this about not buying and selling?” Drexler asked bluntly. Tessa was relieved. His annoyance was beginning to eclipse his nerves. Drexler was, above all else, a businessman. Or he had been. The details of this affair were alien to him, but the broader strokes were not. That was why Tessa was letting him do the talking.

“Mr. Drexler. Slavery is ugly. Slavery is controversial. Human beings are not property. Even out here, we can all agree on that,” Jane said, tapping her desk several times with a fingernail painted white. “But it’s a common practice in those parts of the galaxy without universal healthcare that before one leaves the hospital, one must pay their bill. That is what I understood you were here to do. To pay the medical bill for an unfortunate wayfarer who came to us as not a human being, but a body. Which, of course, would exempt them from any entitlements. The dead do not have rights.”

“But she’s not dead anymore,” Drexler noted.

The woman smiled and shrugged. “Schrodinger’s corpse.” Right. She couldn’t admit anything one way or the other, but that wasn’t good enough for Tessa. Not when these people were holding all the cards.

“Proof of life,” she said. “Or proof that I have the right Jane Doe. It’s only polite.”

Jane turned her gaze on Tessa, whose firmness would’ve been impossible to miss.

“That’s not an unreasonable thing to ask,” Drexler added.

“I didn’t say that it was.” A few practiced swipes through the air brought the holo to life, and a still, 2D image of Deilani’s face appeared in the air. She was alive in the image. It wasn’t an admission, but it was the equivalent of a wink and a nod.

“What’s the point of us coming here to your turf and meeting in person if we still have to play games?” Drexler asked, and Tessa elbowed him in the ribs to shut him up.

“Disregard that,” she told Jane, who made the image vanish.

“Hospital bills have numbers on them,” Drexler went on bitterly, undeterred.

“Who’s playing games now?” Jane asked.

That was fair. The next play was not Jane’s to make. Drexler looked to Tessa for help, but Tessa didn’t know what to say. If they offered a number too low, they would give away how far out of their depth they were. If they offered too high, they would risk overpaying. Tessa didn’t care about overpaying; the problem was that she didn’t even know how to guess what would be an appropriate number. Or even what type of currency these people wanted.

“What do you want to be paid in?” she asked.

“Credits. Dollars. Julians. Yuan. It’s all the same to me,” Jane said frankly.

“Half a million credits,” Tessa said, keeping her face stony.

Jane didn’t react visibly to that. She did this for a living.

“You’re an Imperial,” she said, then shot Drexler a glance. “Healthcare is free for you. So, I guess it’s normal that you don’t understand how much it costs for the rest of us.”

Great. Had Tessa really shot low? Or was her incompetence just so obvious that this woman thought she could pump the number?

“Right,” Drexler said, scowling. “Two million.”

Jane stared across the desk at them impassively. She scratched her nose briefly.

“I thought you had money,” she said. “At least before the Commonwealth stock market crashed after Little Norwich.”

“It bounced back pretty quickly,” Drexler replied evenly.

“They usually do. I don’t understand why you’re being so stingy here.”

Drexler looked affronted and Tessa kicked his foot out of sight.

“Thirty,” Jane said, leaning back in her hair. “That would be a serious, competitive offer.”

There it was. Tessa didn’t do anything as obvious as glance toward the door. It wasn’t paranoia if they were really out to get you. That Golden on the transport? He was here for Deilani. Maybe the Goldens wanted to ask about her classified mission. Or maybe they just wanted to know about the Empress. The situation after Sterling Station in which the Empress had been under the protection of just three Service members had been unprecedented. Foreign governments would want to know about that special sleeper that the Empress traveled in. And that strange ship she’d had. That weapon that she’d used to retake the Julian. Deilani didn’t know everything, but it was a safe bet that she’d know things that the Goldens would find interesting.

Thirty million Free Trade Credits was a lot of money, but not if the Goldens considered that information to be of strategic value.

But if Deilani had that kind of value, Evagard wouldn’t have left her here. Optics would not have stopped them from recovering her.

Was Jane bluffing? Or was Tessa missing something?

“Thirty million,” Drexler echoed, disbelieving. “You could buy…” he trailed off there as Jane’s eyebrows crept up.

“Yes? What?” Jane tented her fingers and leaned on the desk, gazing across at them. “What object were you about to compare this human being to? A penthouse in McArthur or Tanaka? Can you raise it or not?”

Drexler took a deep breath. “I can raise it. But I can only transfer money like that through brokerage. Don’t tell me you’re going to ask for cash.”

“Good God. What do I want with half a ton of platinum?” She keyed something, and a code appeared in the air. “There’s your exchange. Are you making me this offer?”

“Yes,” Tessa said without hesitation.

Drexler blinked rapidly and took in a long breath through his nose, but didn’t protest.

“I’ll pay you back,” she murmured.

He snorted, and that was fair. Tessa’s family was mostly well-off, but the net worth of all the living Salmagards still wouldn’t even begin to approach this sum. Drexler would not be getting paid back. Would he miss this much money? Tessa didn’t know his finances. He was supposed to be a billionaire. Or like Jane had said, he had been before the war.

“Great.” Jane leaned forward and offered her hand. “If this offer is accepted, there’ll be an expectation that you’ll make good on it.”

“I’m guessing us getting off this planet will depend on it,” Drexler said dryly.

“You’re a guest here, Mr. Drexler. Please be polite and don’t compare us to… whatever you’re comparing us to,” Jane replied with a little smile.

Drexler snorted again and shook her hand.

“Great. I’m going to send you back downstairs, and we’ll keep you posted.”

“Can’t wait,” he replied dryly.

“Oh,” Jane said as they reached the door. “If negotiations go past the day cycle, will you be needing one room or two?” she asked.

Drexler twitched and looked over his shoulder at her.

“Two,” he said.

In the lift, he seemed unsure what to do with his hands, finally settling for putting them in the pockets of the light jacket that he wore.

“We could share if you like,” Tessa told him as the door closed.

He gave her a startled look. “Tessa, you’re barely older than—than my daughter was.”

She shrugged. He pinched the bridge of his nose.

“I hate Imperials,” he said quietly.

Tessa made a sympathetic noise. The doors opened and they returned to the canteen. Drexler got himself two stiff drinks this time. Maybe this was about principle more than money. What these people were doing could not have been more obvious. There were, of course, laws against it in most civilized places.

It was believable that there had been an offer in place for Deilani, perhaps from that Golden. But Tessa had a feeling that it hadn’t been, say, twenty-nine million. Maybe it had been five. Or ten. These people just wanted to squeeze every drop out of Drexler that they could. Still, it was refreshing that they were going about it so transparently.

Tessa barely got a sip of her tea before movement caught her attention. She turned to see the Golden making his way across the canteen, coming directly for their table.

He seated himself without an invitation beside Drexler and across from Tessa.

“Good afternoon,” he said, politely but brusquely. “I’m withdrawing my bid.”

“Your government can’t compete with the free market, huh?” Drexler grunted, taking a drink.

“I’m not paying this much money for a corpse,” the Golden replied frankly.

He didn’t deny the insinuation, not that there was any point.

Tessa’s eyes narrowed. “What? They revived her.”

“The Empress giveth and the Empress taketh away,” the Golden said, brushing his hair behind his ear. Tessa resisted the urge to punch him. That such a beautiful man could behave in such a profoundly unattractive way was almost impressive. The bizarre juxtaposition of candor and nonsense in his words checked every box on the list of things that stoked Tessa’s anger.

“How much did you bid?” Drexler asked him.

“It doesn’t matter what anyone bids,” the Golden replied, putting his hands on the table and preparing to stand. “I told you. I don’t want a corpse. You don’t want a corpse.” He pushed to his feet, his eyes locked on Tessa, who said nothing. “Private Salmagard,” he said, unblinking. “I need you to be smarter than this. Your mission will fail otherwise.”

“Don’t be so sure. You don’t know who sent me.”

“There’s an Imperial asset here, but it isn’t you,” the Golden told her bluntly. “I’ll see you on the shuttle.”

With that, he was walking away. Tessa watched him go. The Golden hadn’t tried to hide his sense of urgency.

“I don’t understand,” Drexler said. “Why would they bring her back and then kill her? To find out what she knows and keep it for themselves? Double the profit? Some kind of scam?”

Tessa shook her head slowly. These people were criminals, but they had at least some sense. They might try something like that with Drexler and Tessa, but they wouldn’t even think about pulling that kind of con over on the Golden, who so obviously was functioning as the representative of a government with a lot of resources and a history of holding grudges.

Deilani was not dead. At least, not as far as Jane knew. And Jane would know.

A Golden spy also wouldn’t be wrong. A Golden spy would lie. Why?

Tessa played back his words in her mind and her heart sank. It figured that the one time that she thought that she more or less had things straight, she’d had it all backward.

Drexler flinched as she got abruptly to her feet, her chair scraping the floor.

“Get back to the shuttle,” she told him. “Go now.”

Chapter Three