Hannelore bit down a very unladylike word. No one was supposed to visit Tyler’s Star. There was nothing in the system to attract visitors, not even the Imperial Navy or pirates. There was nothing in the system worth stealing, at least not yet. Hannelore had intended to invest in some defensive satellites when she had the mining complex up and running, but the funds were too limited to invest now. Besides, covering an entire system was a nightmare. It was simply impossible without thousands of platforms.
“Can you identify it?”
“Not with this gear, My Lady,” Jackson said. He had a past that remained shrouded in mystery, but he clearly knew his way around a tactical console. There were times when she wondered if he was a deserter from the Imperial Navy. “The ship isn’t transmitting any IFF signals and these systems aren’t good enough to pick up much more information.”
Hannelore rubbed her forehead, cursing her luck. The Imperial Navy wouldn’t have bothered to sneak around her system, which meant that the intruders almost certainly had to be pirates. If they were just from the black colonies, trying to remain undetected, they wouldn’t have come so close to her complex. Hell, why would they even bother to come close to the star when there were thousands of light years of interstellar space to use as a meeting point, without any risk of detection? No reason came to her tired mind.
“Hail them,” she ordered. If they knew that they’d been spotted, perhaps they would flicker out and withdraw. Pirates weren’t known for bravery, if only because the Imperial Navy executed them upon capture. “Ask them what their business is and how we may assist.”
“Yes, My Lady,” Jackson said. He turned to his own console and spoke rapidly, pushing as much confidence into his voice as he could. Hannelore had been tempted to speak herself, but letting the pirates know that there was at least one woman in the complex wouldn’t have been such a great idea. They might have gotten a few ideas. “I don’t think they’re listening.”
Hannelore nodded. The unknown ship was still arcing towards her complex, ignoring the message and the outlying mining ships. Whoever was in charge had probably surveyed her complex under cloak and deduced that the centre — her command asteroid — was the only valuable point in the system. The miners would have to surrender or die in the vacuum of space when their air ran out… if the pirates didn’t just blow the asteroid and leave them to die.
“Sound the alert,” she ordered, and then changed her mind. There was nothing they could do to deter the pirate ship from attacking, if they intended to attack. “Belay that; warn section leaders, but don’t sound a general alert.”
If Jackson disagreed with her logic, he didn’t show it. “Yes, My Lady,” he said, and started to work at his console. Hannelore envied him dreadfully suddenly; if she had something to do, she wouldn’t have had to stare at the incoming icon and worry about what its crew might have in mind. She understood, suddenly, what her father had meant when he had talked about the loneliness of command. She was responsible for the seventy-two miners and engineers she had hired and transported to Tyler’s Star, promising them wealth, reward and patronage — if only they succeeded. And, by doing so, she had brought them here to die.
Jackson looked up suddenly. “My Lady,” he said, “we are receiving a transmission.”
Hannelore braced herself. There would be no hiding the fact that she was a woman now, or the fact that there were other women on the platform. “Put it through,” she ordered. “Let’s hear what they have to say.”
A face appeared in front of her. The image was massive, as if the sender was focusing the camera directly on his face, rather than allowing her a chance to see his bridge. The man had long blonde hair — longer than her hair — and a beard that seemed to defy any hope of organising it properly. The effect seemed to create the impression of a dashing rogue, although it was partly spoiled by the fact she could see every motion on the face. If the speaker frowned, or twitched, she would see it.
“Lady Ellicott-Chatham,” the speaker said. Hannelore’s lips twitched. Technically, she was Lady Hannelore, for there was no Ellicott-Chatham Family. The failure of the planned merger and her parents’ separation had seen to that. Indeed, someone of a legalistic bent could make a convincing case that she shouldn’t even be considered a Lady at all. “I am Captain Jason Cordova, representing the Popular Front for the Reform of the Empire.”
“That’s a bit of a mouthful,” Hannelore said, before she could stop herself. There was something about the speaker, Captain Cordova, that seemed to encourage informality. If nothing else, it certainly suggested that he didn’t have looting, raping and pillaging in mind. “I have never heard of the Popular Front.”
“The whole universe will know of us soon,” Cordova promised. His booming voice carried with it unlimited confidence, the kind of confidence that only nature’s aristocrats possessed. Some of the family brats Hannelore had known had it, but it was rare outside the Thousand Families, at least from what she’d seen. Her lips twitched again. She hadn’t seen that much of the galaxy outside the Thousand Families. “I’m afraid that I’m going to have to ask you to surrender your facilities.”
Hannelore felt a sudden hot wave of anger flowing through her, but she clamped down on it mercilessly. There was no point in getting angry, not now. She didn’t quite dare. “You’re talking about wrecking the livelihood of nearly a hundred people,” she said, the strongest argument she dared use. “If you destroy the platforms…”
“We have no intention of destroying the platforms,” Cordova said. “We just wish to remove you and your crew from them for a short period of time, until the war is over.” His voice hardened. “I’m afraid I cannot give you a choice in the matter.”
Hannelore keyed the switch and looked over at Jackson. “Can we resist?”
His shrug was very droll. “We don’t have anything to resist with,” he pointed out. “If we say no, they’ll either open fire or send in their troops to take us prisoner.”
“Very well,” Hannelore said, reopening the channel. There was no point in asking for guarantees, although even she had heard of Cordova’s reputation. He didn’t have anything like the reputation some pirates had. “We will transfer over to your ship and then seal the platforms.”
An hour later, she found herself breathing in clean air as she stepped onboard the Random Numbers. Not all of her crew had been keen to surrender, but spacers couldn’t allow themselves any delusions about reality and reality was that Cordova had the firepower to make any objections pointless and futile. Hannelore had considered trying to sneak away, using only gas thrusters in hopes of avoiding their radar, yet she’d ended up dismissing the idea. It simply wouldn’t have worked.
“Welcome aboard,” Cordova said. On the screen, he’d been remarkable; in person, he was striking, even stunning. His smile was so bright that it seemed to light up his entire face. It was easy to see why his crew both loved and followed him, even into exile and certain sentence of death if they were caught. “I have taken the liberty of preparing quarters suitable for one of your exalted rank and station.”
“Thank you, but I would prefer to bunk with my crew,” Hannelore said. She had long ago lost the modesty that a young girl in the High City on Earth was required to develop — or at least pretend to develop. “I wish to make sure that they are not mistreated.”
“No one will be mistreated,” Cordova assured her. His smile grew wider. “And perhaps you would join me for evening dinner. There is much that you can tell me about Earth.”
Hannelore blinked in confusion. Why would Cordova want to know about Earth?