“We’re on approach. Docking in one minute,” Batin said.

  “Specter, have they signaled?” Ving asked the ship’s AI.

  “The ship hasn’t sent any communications, Agent Ving,” Specter replied.

  “No news is good news?” Rollins asked dryly.

  “Radio silence was the plan established with the smuggler. They’re letting us dock. Everything is on track,” Batin said.

  A heavy thud echoed through the ship as the docking clamps locked. The three agents waited in the airlock, dressed in civilian clothes matching the smuggler they’d apprehended on Earth. Batin held a case that looked like it could contain DNA samples—fakes from Specter’s MedBay. Behind them were Mag-Lift pallets stacked with supplies.

  The risk with the disguise was that they didn’t know for sure whether the smuggler had been honest when he claimed the Cloners didn’t know what he looked like. He passed the lie detector—but he could’ve been mistaken. Cloners were notoriously suspicious of new contacts. If they smelled a trap, they’d shoot first.

  “Ready?” Batin asked.

  Ving and Rollins nodded.

  The airlock hissed open. Two large men with heavy rifles stood at the threshold, flanking an older man in a lab coat.

  “Hello, I’m Dr. Warner. It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance,” the man said.

  “Dr. Warner, I’m Johnny Hanford. Pleasure’s mine,” Batin replied, using the smuggler’s name. It was a risky move, but so far, it was working.

  “I presume those are the samples?” Warner gestured to the case.

  “Yes. Everything you requested is here. We also brought the additional supplies,” Batin said, handing him the case and motioning to the pallets.

  The guards eyed Ving and Rollins, but Warner focused solely on the samples.

  “Very good,” Warner said, inspecting the case. “Gentlemen, let’s step aside. Let our guests bring in the rest.”

  The group moved into the Cloner ship, making space for Ving and Rollins to maneuver the Mag-Lifts through the airlock.

  “Come, let’s go to my lab so I can verify the samples. After that, we’ll discuss your payment—and perhaps a special bonus, if we can make this a regular thing,” Warner said as he led the way.

  “Sounds good, Doctor. Thank you,” Batin replied. He followed Warner and the guards. Ving and Rollins brought up the rear.

  "Mage, can you get a count of people and droids aboard?" Ving thought silently.

  "I need access to the ship’s computer before I can get a reading, James," Mage replied.

  Rollins, whose job was to hack the computer, had Specter’s AI doing the heavy lifting. All she had to do was monitor and choose how to proceed. While pushing the Mag-Lift, she discreetly worked the console on its side. The guards were none the wiser.

  They entered Warner’s lab—a brightly lit, spacious room. Glass tubes filled with fetuses and near-grown bodies lined the walls. Workbenches, microscopes, and chemical containers filled the space. The chemical smell was nauseating, and the sight of unborn clones floating in bubbling liquid made Ving's stomach churn.

  “If you and the young lady would place the pallets against that wall, I’d appreciate it,” Warner said to Ving.

  “Certainly, Doctor,” Ving replied.

  Warner placed the sample case on a bench and inserted a tube into a machine. It began to hum softly.

  “While that runs…” Warner gestured to one of the guards, who set another case on the bench. Inside was a collection of certified metals—a common currency on the Frontier.

  “It’s all there, as agreed.”

  Batin nodded to Ving, who approached and scanned the metals with his phone—standard procedure to verify quality and value. The Frontier prized metals used in ship components and electronics—nearly as much as food. An offline app converted metals into Federation credits or local rates, useful in trade hubs. Not a perfect system, but functional.

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  Batin shot Rollins a look. Time was short. Soon the DNA test would reveal the samples were bogus, and Warner would get suspicious.

  The machine beeped.

  “A perfect match. Excellent,” Warner said, smiling. “Let me check a few more, and then we’ll get you on your way.”

  The agents exchanged glances. That wasn’t possible. These were random samples from Specter’s MedBay—nowhere near what Warner should be expecting.

  Warner inserted another sample. Maybe the first was a fluke.

  Rollins glanced at her control screen. The AI hack hadn’t broken through yet—Cloners used top-tier cybersecurity.

  “So, we have a deal, Mr. Hanford?” Warner asked. “We can discuss your bonus?”

  “Of course, Doctor. We’re in agreement,” Batin replied.

  Warner activated the comms. “Please bring in Mr. Hanford’s bonus.”

  “Right away, Doctor,” came the reply.

  Another beep. Another perfect match.

  "Mage, what the hell is going on?" Ving thought.

  "I can't be sure. Perhaps Warner wasn’t expecting specific samples. Maybe the smuggler was delivering random DNA?" Mage replied.

  It didn’t add up. Why risk smuggling blood samples from Earth if they weren’t unique? You could get those anywhere, far cheaper.

  The lab door opened. Another guard entered—escorting a girl, around twelve years old. Long brown hair. Dark eyes. Simple white dress. She looked eerily familiar, though Ving couldn’t place her.

  “Exactly as you requested, Mr. Hanford. Does she meet your expectations?” Warner asked.

  “Yes, Doctor. Quite satisfactory,” Batin replied calmly.

  Rollins and Ving locked eyes. This wasn’t about cloning immortality. This was trafficking—child trafficking. It wasn’t a surprise someone was running that kind of operation, but the mission brief hadn’t mentioned kids. That changed everything. If this turned into a firefight, innocent lives could be caught in the crossfire.

  Suddenly, an alarm blared.

  “Warning: Hull breach detected. Multiple breaches. Bulkhead lockdown initiated,” the ship’s computer announced.

  Rollins’ hack—finally. The lockdown would trap most of the crew in place.

  Warner hit the comms. “This is Dr. Warner. Report.”

  “We’re locked down, Doctor. Multiple breaches. We’re investigating.”

  “Warning: Ship engines offline.”

  Warner turned sharply to Batin. “Mr. Hanford, what is this? Are you sabotaging my ship?!”

  “Doctor, we’ve been with you this whole time. How could we be involved?” Batin said, trying to stall.

  Rollins subtly activated a command on the Mag-Lift. A piercing high-frequency tone rang out. Warner, the guards, and the girl all doubled over in pain.

  The agents wore ear protection.

  Batin drew his weapon and quickly dispatched the guards. Rollins silenced the tone.

  “Secure him!” Batin shouted.

  Ving cuffed Warner and sedated him. The girl hid behind a bench, sobbing.

  “You’re safe,” Batin said softly. “No one’s going to hurt you.”

  But she wouldn’t come out.

  “Batin, we need to move. We have to take the bridge before they regain control,” Ving urged.

  “Stay hidden. We’ll come back for you,” Batin told the girl.

  “Rollins, open the door,” he ordered.

  She hit a button on her phone, and the lab door slid open. They raised their weapons and slipped into the corridor.

  They moved swiftly, avoiding potential hostiles. Once they had the bridge, they’d access environmental controls and secure the ship.

  “Which way?” Batin asked.

  “This hall, straight to the bridge,” Rollins replied, checking her phone.

  At the bridge door, she tried to open it remotely.

  “The command won’t go through. The AI’s fighting back.”

  “Blow it,” Batin said.

  Ving set a charge. The explosion opened a breach large enough to pass through. Batin tossed in a flashbang. The room lit up—then silence.

  They moved in. The crew was stunned.

  “Sedate and cuff them,” Batin ordered.

  As Rollins approached a console, a hidden crew member opened fire. She was thrown back.

  Ving returned fire, killing the shooter. He ran to Rollins—no blood.

  “I’m fine. Just winded,” she gasped. Her vest had absorbed the rounds.

  “Get up. We need environmental control—now!” Batin shouted.

  “I’m on it,” she said, pulling herself up.

  Ving connected a gas canister to a vent and activated it. The agents slipped on thin gas masks. The sedative would knock out the entire crew for four hours—plenty of time to secure the ship.

  Ving accessed internal sensors.

  “Forty-four people and two droids aboard,” he reported.

  “I’ve rerouted circulation. Gas is live,” Rollins confirmed.

  “Do it,” Batin ordered.

  As Ving monitored droid positions, he saw no movement—last known location: the engine room. Hopefully, they weren’t combat models.

  “Let’s move. Take them out, then secure the rest,” Batin said.

  They advanced, single file—Ving in front, Batin covering the rear. HUDs in their smart contacts showed a map, updated by Mage.

  Batin suddenly raised a fist—halt.

  Gunfire erupted from a bulkhead.

  Batin screamed—hit in the leg. Ving pulled him to cover and administered a stabilizing injection.

  “Gas is good. Must’ve had a mask,” Rollins said, checking her phone.

  “If they reach the bridge, we’re screwed. Find them now,” Batin growled.

  “Mage, give me a fix,” Ving thought.

  “Shooter’s two halls down, left side,” Mage replied.

  They approached a supply room. Ving opened the door—dark and silent. Inside, shelves towered. Mage highlighted the shooter’s location.

  Batin rounded the shelf and found a Cloner in a lab coat, hands raised.

  “Please don’t shoot!” the woman cried.

  Batin cuffed her. Ving removed her gas mask. She passed out instantly.

  “She might’ve had intel,” Rollins said.

  “We can’t trust her. We need to find those droids,” Batin replied.

  They moved on.

  “Ving, droid positions?”

  “No movement. Last seen in the engine room.”

  “Let’s hope they’re still there,” Batin said.

  They made their way through the corridor, weapons raised. At the engine room, Mage opened the door.

  No resistance. The glowing green core pulsed in the center. Two droids were slumped against a wall—offline. Two crew members lay unconscious.

  “Rollins, disable—”