Kressa Bryant studied the image displayed on the main screen of the Conquest’s bridge, her dark eyes narrowed slightly.

  “Connie,” she called to the freighter’s computer, “is that a heavy cruiser?”

  “Transponder identifies the vessel above the planetary capital of Vsatt as the heavy cruiser Cheops,” the computer replied in her calm contralto voice.

  Kressa widened the image. Several other vessels hung above the planet Vsuna in unusual orbits. “What about those other ships? Let me see the ones in range.”

  The image on the main screen split into multiple windows. Each displayed a view of one of Vsuna’s major cities with a warship hanging in a low, stationary orbit above it. Kressa counted three light cruisers and four destroyers. Doubtless there were others on the planet’s far side.

  She frowned. She’d been warned this assignment might be dangerous, but finding a fleet of warships gathered around Vsuna was the last thing she expected.

  “This doesn’t make any sense,” she said. “Why keep a fleet of United Galaxy Patrol warships at a world controlled by the United Galaxy? It’s not like there’s anyone who’s going to try to invade Vsuna, and even if there were, wouldn’t the Pattys want to engage them away from the planet, not wait for them in low orbit?”

  “That would seem to be a wiser tactic,” Connie said.

  Kressa continued to study the ships, struggling to make sense of their presence. Had the mysterious Esora succeeded in unifying Vsuna’s rebel factions and risen against the United Galaxy forces that ruled the planet, forcing the Patrol to send in ships to defend the cities? Except for the timing and the fact that she detected no evidence of active fighting, that almost made sense, but only almost.

  “It must be a show of force,” she decided aloud. “The admirals probably got tired of all the petty rebellions and decided to show the rebels what they’re up against.”

  “Assumption seems logical,” Connie said.

  Kressa pushed a hand through her short black hair and considered her next move. They couldn’t turn back. The Conquest’s approach to the planet would have been picked up long ago; turning around would only guarantee unwanted attention.

  “Are there any disruptions to planetary traffic?” she asked.

  “Communications suggest normal traffic permissions and patterns, although security appears unusually high.”

  “No surprise there.” Kressa drew a deep breath. “We’ll land at Tranur like we planned and hope those phony credentials the Guard gave us are as good as promised. If we try to run now, the Pattys are sure to come after us.”

  “Agreed. Setting course to bring us in over Tranur.”

  Kressa cleared the main screen, leaving only the unmagnified image of Vsuna’s blue-and-white globe hanging against a backdrop of stars, all signs of the lurking Patrol fleet hidden by distance.

  The globe grew steadily larger as they drew closer to the planet. Watching the image, Kressa tried to shake the feeling that this assignment would turn out to be nothing but bad news, but the feeling remained.

  She sighed. What was the saying? Bad news comes in threes. She wasn’t superstitious, but this trip to Vsuna was an excellent candidate for the looming third piece of bad news in her life.

  The first piece had come ten days earlier when she visited the domed city of Raasch, the main trading post on the planet Taas. She knew something was wrong the moment she got out among the merchants and traders that crowded the streets. The colorful sights and exotic smells of the vendors’ wares were as prominent as ever, but the loud, good-natured banter that normally filled the air was missing. Even the handful of barter-fueled arguments she overheard held little of their usual passion.

  Curious to discover what had happened to cast the pall over the city, she made her way through the troublingly subdued crowds to the Devil’s Promise, the tavern owned by Kanmi Aradus, a retired Taasian mercenary. Kressa had met Aradus nearly a decade earlier, on her first visit to Raasch. The tough old soldier had taken an instant liking to the feisty sixteen-year-old girl she’d been then, and he had treated her like his kid sister ever since.

  As soon as Kressa entered the Promise, Aradus nodded to her from behind the bar, filled two glasses with the tavern’s popular house brew, and joined her at a corner table.

  “Hey, Kres.” He placed one of the glasses on the stained plasteel table in front of her and took a seat. “What brings you to Taas?”

  She smiled her thanks for the drink and took a sip. “Delivering cargo. Den Blackwell says he might have something for me to take off-planet.”

  “I wouldn’t pin my hopes on that. Blackwell’s not in the best shape right now.”

  Kressa shrugged and took another taste of her drink. “I’m sure someone’s got something that needs hauling.”

  Aradus nodded but said nothing.

  Kressa frowned at the normally talkative man’s reserve. Apparently, whatever had happened in the city had affected him, as well. “What’s going on around here? Things are awfully quiet.”

  He glanced away and then looked into his glass. “We had a bit of trouble with the Pattys a few days back.”

  “‘We’? You mean here in the city?”

  “A bit more than that, I’m afraid.” He took a long drink, and Kressa waited for him to continue. “About a week ago, a Patrol task force showed up in the system for what they claimed were scheduled maneuvers.”

  Kressa arched an eyebrow. Taas produced little of value to the high-living citizens of the United Galaxy’s planets, so the world was largely ignored by the UG’s ruling admirals, which was just the way the hardy, independent-minded Taasians liked it. Still, the planet was officially under the United Galaxy’s jurisdiction, so a Patrol task force choosing to practice maneuvers within the system was not unheard of, just a bit odd given the system’s distance from so many of the United Galaxy’s primary worlds.

  “The Pattys’ so-called ‘maneuvers’ consisted of stopping, searching, and otherwise harassing every non-commercial ship that entered the system,” Aradus continued with a frown, “as well as commercial vessels from any of the Free Worlds. We figured the task force commander must’ve been new to his position and wanted to impress the higher-ups, or he’d been stuck in the same job for too long and wanted to do something to get noticed.”

  “But the ships are gone now, aren’t they?” Kressa asked. “I didn’t pick up any sign of Patty vessels when I arrived in the system, and the Conquest has some damn good detectors.”

  “Aye, they’re gone now,” Aradus said. “They left a couple of days ago, but not before stepping up their tactics from harassment to aggression.”

  Kressa did not like the sound of that or the troubled look that tightened Aradus’s craggy features as he said it. “What happened?”

  “If you believe the official Patty version of the story, they ordered a free trader to heave to. When the ship didn’t comply, they fired a low-power warning shot. The ship attempted to evade, forcing the Pattys to target their engines. Apparently the vessel wasn’t very well maintained, because when the engines were hit, something went critical, and the ship blew.”

  Kressa did not think the story sounded all that implausible. The Patrol was famous for its shoot-first tactics. The fact that they bothered to fire a warning shot could be viewed as a generosity. As for the ship that had been destroyed… Kressa pursed her lips. She didn’t like it when any of her fellow traders bought the black, especially at the end of a Patty pulse beam, but it was a well-known fact that some of them skimped on ship maintenance due to lack of skill, lack of money, or lack of common sense. Having a ship’s systems go critical, even without the help of a shot from a Patrol warship, was hardly unknown.

  “You don’t believe that’s what really happened?” she asked.

  The old merc’s expression softened unexpectedly. “Kressa, the ship the Pattys took out was the Darsan.”

  An icy hand clutched Kressa’s heart, and a chill surged through her body and along her limbs. She had served aboard the Darsan for three years. Shipping out on the freighter when she was sixteen had given Kressa her first taste of the life of a free trader and taught her everything she needed to know to take up that life when she got the Conquest. Due to the unpredictable schedules and destinations of free traders, she’d had only rare contact with the Darsan and her crew since then, but now that they were gone, she felt as if some fundamental chapter of her life had come to a sudden and unexpected end. It left her feeling ungrounded, slightly off balance, with the odd sense that she’d lost something she never knew she had.

  Then the details of the Darsan’s destruction made it through her shock. Aradus said the ship had gone critical. One of the most important things she learned while serving on board the Darsan was the necessity of keeping a ship and all of its systems in perfect working order. It was the one place where Tempo, the Darsan’s captain, never took shortcuts; the ship had not blown up due to faulty systems.

  A second chill washed over her. “The Pattys purposefully destroyed the Darsan,” she said. “Why?”

  Aradus’s expression grew hard, shifting from compassion to anger in an instant. “Why do they do anything? Maybe Tempo didn’t answer their hail quickly enough for their liking, or maybe he wasn’t ‘respectful’ enough when he did answer. Hell, maybe he really did try to run.”

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  Kressa gave a single adamant shake of her head. “No, Tempo wouldn’t run. He’d never have any reason to. The Pattys could have gone over every square millimeter of the Darsan and still found nothing to cite him on. Every trader I know would give half their controlling interest in their ship for a record as clean as Tempo’s.” She had hoped to emulate that record when she set out to trade on her own, but fate conspired against her, and the Patrol caught her running guns—albeit unknowingly—to the Free World Guard forces on Arecia. The Guard had rescued her from the Patrol, but they could do nothing about the black mark on her record or the price the Patrol put on her head.

  “The Pattys wanted to send a message,” she said, struggling to keep her voice calm. “They wanted to remind us that they can strike anyone, anywhere, for any reason. Or for none. The Darsan was just unlucky enough to be chosen as messenger.”

  Aradus nodded agreement with her appraisal. “Lucky you didn’t show up a few days earlier, or they might’ve targeted the Conquest.”

  Kressa shook her head. “No, they wouldn’t have come after me. Not for that reason, anyway. They needed a dirty kill on a clean target. The Conquest has the equipment to not only fight back, but maybe even escape. The Darsan didn’t stand a chance, which made her the perfect target.” Sickened by the realization, she downed the remainder of her drink in a single swallow. “I’ve got to go.”

  Aradus put a hand on her arm as she stood to leave. “You’re not going to try anything stupid, are you?”

  “Against the Pattys?” She laughed mockingly. “What can I do? What can any of us do?” She drew a deep breath. “I just want to get away from here.”

  He pursed his lips and nodded. “Take care of yourself.”

  She returned to the Conquest, delivered the cargo she’d brought, and resolved to leave Taas without bothering to look for another job. She would fly straight to Arecia, she decided, land at the Guard base, and go see Halav. But it was her heart that made the decision. Once her head caught up, she knew she could not go. Colonel Halav Kamick had led the team that rescued her from the Patrol after the gun-running incident six years ago, and he had all but given her the Conquest, albeit with the stipulation that she use the ship to help the Guard whenever he asked. More than that, they had been lovers for the past several years. But the last time they were together, mere weeks ago, they decided it was time to end their relationship, for personal as well as practical reasons.

  Things between them had never truly gone bad, but they were hardly an ideal couple. As a free trader, Kressa needed to travel, whereas Halav was kept busy and planet-bound by his duty as a colonel in the Guard. Plus it was no secret that General Laszlo expected him to take over command of Arecia's Free World Guard forces once Laszlo retired, at which point Halav would have even less free time. And there was the more practical consideration of the danger their relationship could pose to the people they worked with. When on field assignments together, if they were busy watching out for each other, those with them might end up paying the price. They had discussed all of these points, and more, and decided together that it would be best if they kept their interactions limited to those required by their “professional” relationship, although Halav had told her they could end that, as well.

  Kressa knew that running to Halav for emotional support so soon after they made that commitment would do neither of them any good. Besides, she told herself, it wasn’t as if she needed his support; she was perfectly capable of dealing with her feelings on her own. And if she wanted someone to talk to about what happened, Connie was an excellent listener and would provide sympathetic feedback, even if it was only because she was programmed to do so.

  Realizing that, Kressa took the time to seek new cargo, eventually hiring out to take a shipment to the Free World of Latella. But when she arrived on Latella four days later, the second set of bad news was waiting: Something had happened on Arecia involving one of the Guard’s high-ranking officers—the stories weren’t clear who—and someone had died.

  This time, Kressa did not bother to find a new job. She delivered her cargo and headed straight to Arecia.

  With her heart in her throat, she landed the Conquest at the Guard’s main base and rushed to the command building where an aide directed her to the general’s office.

  The worst of her fears dissolved when she entered the room and found Halav seated behind the desk, but the general’s insignia on his black-and-gray uniform told her that all was not well; something must have happened to Laszlo.

  Halav looked up as Kressa entered the office, and his tawny eyes met hers. He rose quickly and stepped around the desk.

  Kressa was in his arms in an instant, holding him close to assure herself of the reality of his existence.

  He returned her embrace, and for a brief moment she thought—hoped—he would kiss her. Instead, he eased her away from him and held her at arm’s length.

  “I heard about the Darsan,” he said, his expression filled with compassion. “I’m so sorry.”

  She stared at him, shocked by his words, not only because they completely ignored his current circumstances, but because he knew about what had happened at Taas. But after only a brief moment of consideration, she realized it made sense that he would be more focused on her concerns than his; after all, whatever had happened to General Laszlo was days-old news to him. And of course he would have heard about the less-than-subtle statement the Patrol made at Taas; it had been intended for the Free World Guard forces as much as for anyone else who dared to challenge the United Galaxy’s authority.

  Kressa tore her gaze from Halav’s compassionate look and took a seat in one of the chairs in front of his desk.

  “Thanks,” she said quietly. “I… guess Tempo was in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

  Halav nodded and returned to his chair. For a moment it looked like he wanted to say more. But what could he say? That Tempo and the rest of the Darsan’s crew had not died in vain? That their senseless deaths would be avenged?

  It was what Kressa wanted to hear, and almost certainly what he wanted to say, but it would be a lie. Halav did not tell those sorts of lies, not even to comfort her, although sometimes she wished he did.

  “What happened to Laszlo?” she asked, eager to turn the conversation away from the Darsan.

  “He was on his way up north to check out some land he was thinking about buying when he retires.” Halav’s tone was terse, his voice flat, as if he were relaying a report to a senior officer. “His car was involved in an accident. Several people were killed, including Laszlo.”

  “Was it really an accident?”

  Halav shrugged. “The preliminary investigation suggests it could have been.”

  Kressa nodded. She knew Halav would never believe it was an accident, and neither would she. “Will the Pattys come after you next?”

  He shook his head. “Not right now. They’ve made their point, and they’ll want to see if I’m any good at the job. If I turn out to be incompetent, taking me out now would be a bad move on their part.”

  Kressa scoffed. She knew Halav would be an excellent leader, maybe even better than Laszlo, but he was probably right in thinking that the admirals would wait to see that for themselves before deciding whether or not to send someone after him.

  She forced a lighthearted smile. “I guess this means no more field assignments for you, General.”

  He returned her smile, and she was glad it looked more genuine than hers felt.

  “You’re probably right about that, but I do have an assignment for you, if you’re interested.”

  “What do you want me to do for you this time?” she asked with a feigned sigh, trying to banish the last of the heavy emotional undercurrent with the teasing repartee that normally defined their conversations.

  “Do you have anything to trade on Vsuna?” he asked.

  “I don’t have anything to trade anywhere.”

  He gave her a surprised look. “You’re running empty? Isn’t that against some unwritten free-trader code?”

  “Halav, I didn’t come to Arecia because of any cargo I’m carrying. I came to make sure you were all right.”

  His surprise melted to a tender look, and Kressa’s chest tightened uncomfortably at the affection in his gaze.

  “Let’s not go there,” she said quietly. “Why do you need me to go to Vsuna?”

  His features hardened to a more businesslike expression. “Have you been keeping up on what’s happening there?”

  “Not really,” she admitted, trying to think of the last time she’d heard any news from or about the planet Vsuna. She knew it was one of the United Galaxy’s rising stars, but as with most rises to prominence, Vsuna’s increasing importance in the UG hierarchy was not without its cost. As the power, wealth, and prestige of Vsuna’s ruling class increased, the remainder of the Vsunan citizens were being pushed further and further down, dangerously increasing the gap between the haves and the have-nots. It was an unfortunately common scenario on United Galaxy worlds.

  “What’s happening on Vsuna that concerns us?” she asked, sorry for what she knew of the situation, but unable to see how it affected Arecia or the other Free Worlds.

  “Rebellions,” Halav said.

  “Do you think they’re the reason behind what the Pattys did to the Darsan and Laszlo?”

  “Possibly, at least in part. So far, the incidents on Vsuna have been fairly small and isolated. The Guard’s been in contact with a few of the rebel groups, thinking we could offer some support, but none of them have been around long enough for us to be much help. The Patrol has gotten good at finding them and cleaning them out. The main problem has been the small size and limited reach of the organizations, but that seems to be changing. Apparently someone’s working to bring all of the different groups together.”

  “Who?” Kressa asked.

  Halav shook his head. “No one seems to know. We aren’t even sure if it’s a person or a group. All we have is a name. Esora.”

  “Never heard of it.”

  “It’s a Vsunan word, the name of a flowering plant that grows in one of the world’s rainforests. The flower is said to be small, beautiful, and under certain circumstances, just a whiff of one can be deadly.”

  “Interesting.”

  “But, unfortunately, not very enlightening.”

  “So you’d like me to go to Vsuna to see if I can find something more enlightening?” Kressa asked.

  “It’s up to you. I told you before that I don’t expect you to keep working for the Guard if you don’t want to.”

  “What else am I going to do to keep sticking it to the Pattys?”

  He flashed her a brief smile. “Good point. We received a message that this Esora is going to be meeting with the leaders of the Vsunan rebel groups in four days. We didn’t get the entire message, so we’re not sure if it was meant to be an invitation or just informational. Or even a trap. Whatever the truth, we need someone to look into it. If something big is about to go down on Vsuna, we’d like to know about it, to offer our help or at least be ready for the aftermath when it happens.”

  “How much of the message did you get?” Kressa asked.

  “We have a time and a place, but not much else.”

  “What happened to the rest?”

  “We don’t know. That’s one of the reasons this is a purely voluntary assignment.”

  Kressa took only a moment to come to a decision. “Vsuna’s only two days away,” she said, “and the meeting with this Esora is in four. That gives me a full day to put together some sort of cargo to make this look like a legitimate run and still get to Vsuna with a day to spare.”

  “The Guard can help with the cargo,” Halav said, “and with any documentation you might need.”

  “Let’s get to work, then. It seems I have an appointment on Vsuna.”