To get one fitted, they needed a good starport, rated A or B, and as high tech as possible. The port right here on Ariel was ideal on paper, but three factors ruled it out. First, in the unlikely event that Torvald Shinmuusha had survived, the hunt might soon be afoot. Second, the facilities were dilapidated in the extreme. Thirdly, the franchisee which ran the port facilities - Wellington Supplies - was dubious in the extreme as well as very expensive. So the library data was examined for some alternatives.

Sathyos A-479726-E Im

Of the collection, Sathyos seemed the best bet, and this decision was sealed when a check in the SolSec files revealed that a sleeper - a SolSec undercover agent - was documented as being operational on Sathyos. The files listed his name as Colum Blaine, working under a cover name of Ikharmuu Keram.

This decided, the ship was inserted into jumpspace with a destination of Sathyos.

High Orbit, Sathyos, Banasdan, Solomani Rim, 102/989

With a shimmer of cyan fire across the lanthanum grid, the Nemesis shifted back into real space, and the jump was over.

While Fox ran through the post-jump checklist and lit the manouvre drives, the ship's computer brought the sensor suite online and scanned the vicinity. After a few minutes, the computer's mellifluous pseudovoice announced, ''There is a 400-dton patrol cruiser seven hundred kilometres away and closing on an intercept course. Insignia and IFF ident matches with Imperial Navy, 7432nd fleet. Her weapon systems are powered up but on standby. Weapons range in thirty-two minutes, docking range in forty-eight minutes."

This seemed a bit ominous, and a tidy-up appeared a good idea. Most of the agents' own covert gear and heavy weapons were already hidden away, but the remaining battledress and drop capsules brought aboard by the late Sons of Earth were not something they wanted discovered by the Imps. While Fox continued to "fly casual", the rest of the crew turned to the task of lugging the ill-fated revolutionaries' gear into the secret computer room. Vasquez, having learned from the previous adventure, dropped a gausspistol into Victor's secret pocket, and the crew kitted out in jumpsuits and normal shipboard sidearms.

Half an hour later, the Nemesis was hailed by the approaching cruiser, naming itself the Ikaanis Mugina. "Solomani merchant craft Nemesis, please be prepared for Imperial customs inspection. Heave to on your current heading with your weapon systems powered down and prepare to receive borders." How typically Imperial.

The vessel loomed nearer and nearer, swung around into line with them, and gently slid into place, with handled with skill that made Fox whistle softly. A few clunks and thuds announced the attachment of a docking tube, and then another clipped transmission came; "Docking is complete; we request permission to board." Of course, what this actually meant was, open your doors or we'll blast them in. Fox, Vasquez and Jeremiah went down to the hold - by coincidence, the Imps had docked to the same iris as the hijackers had cut through at Newcomb - and opened the hatch to admit the authorities.

Six armoured marines, followed by a Naval officer and an ensign with a datapad, came through, and the officer glanced around. His eyes fell on Vasquez. "Good morning, Madam. Am I addressing the captain?" he said.

Vasquez played dumb, but Fox was in straight away, smooth and unworried. "I am the captain," he said, "what can we do for you, Commander... Hawkins?" as his gaze clicked from the rank pips to the ID badge. As the two spoke further, although they were from unfriendly nations, a slight empathy developed; both were navy and proud of it and it showed.

"This is my clerk, Ensign Daly," continued Hawkins. "We will require to see your passenger lists, cargo manifests, trading accounts, ship's papers, and flight system logs for the last five jumps." Fox was unflappable. "Certainly; this way, please," he replied, and led the ensign and his two guards down towards the cargo hold at the rear of the ship.

Vasquez looked at Hawkins. "What about a tour of your ship?" she asked cheekily. "No civilians on Imperial service vessels. Take me to your bridge, please." Vasquez blinked. "The captain's not here," she said, playing dumb. "Never mind," said Hawkins. "You'll do. Your captain agreed to release his flight logs. Lead on, please."

Vasquez guided the Commander, and the two marines he took with him, across the ship's hold and up the ladder into the bridge. As she climbed the steps, he looked at her face and raised an eyebrow. "Nasty wounds you've got there," he commented, clearly fishing for what these 'harmless merchants' had been doing that could get them shot. "It is, isn't it?" was the flat reply.

On the bridge, despite a startled look from Hum who was on duty in the Engineer's chair, Hawkins sat down at the Nav position and started trying to extract the data he wanted. However, Fox's security was better than what was evidently normal, and he looked up at Vasquez and demanded the system password.

"I have't got that," protested the hispanic agent. "I'm just a loader. Victor can get the data for you, though. That's why we have a robot." she continued, indicating the robot. Hawkins looked dubious, but Victor plugged in a data interface and a few seconds later handed over a dataslug loaded with the relevant data. Sort of. Naturally, he had converted it to an "innocent" version, rather than the all-too-revealing true story.

Hawkins jacked this into his own datapad, and scrolled through it for a few moments. Vasquez took the opportunity to plead duty and leave the bridge. Once off, she used her radio implant to communicate with Victor, asking him to let her know what happened. "Recording." was his simple answer. Then she headed down the corridor to her stateroom (the first on the left), with an eye to acquiring her armour. However, when she reached the corridor, there were Fox, Daly and the two grunts heading the other way. Worse, Hawkins and his guards had left the bridge and were approaching from behind. Quickly, she tripped the door and stepped inside. Once in she opened a channel to Fox on the shipboard headset intercom, so she could listen in. "Stall!" she hissed. Then she started frantically stripping off her jumpsuit, ready to climb into the skinsuit and then her armour.

Hawkins stalked up to Fox. "Captain," he rapped. "There are several inconsistencies in your logs, and evidence of major offences - trading in weapons, drugs, slaves, stolen gold. You and your crew are under arrest, and this vessel is impounded. You will be taken to the surface of Sathyos for interrogation, prosecution and for files to be assessed." Fox blinked. He knew that the real logs didn't show any such thing, let alone...

"Victor?" transmitted Vasquez, "what did you put in the fake logs?"

"Nothing like that!" responded the robot.

"Seal the bridge."

Fox demanded to see the logs Hawkins referred to, and was shown the datapad; it looked as real as his own logs. If it was a stitch-up, it was a good one. Vasquez, nearly completely armoured, addressed the whole crew. "We can't afford to be captured," she said urgently. "If they search her that thoroughly, the game's up!"

Down in the hold, the guards on the hatch shifted their grip on their guns, to a much more ready posture. Jeremiah became nervous, but, hiding it, hooked a thumb over his shoulder. "I'm putting a brew on," he said, "you want one?" Rewarded with glacial silence, he turned and walked for the bridge hatch, his shoulderblades tickling with the threat of a shot as he walked. He climbed the ladder, but found the hatch into the bridge locked. A quick call to Hum and he was in. Once into the bridge, he rapped down switches to seal the hatch the patrol cruiser was docked to.

"Please accompany these guards, Captain," continued Hawkins to Fox, "a prize crew will be placed aboard your vessel for its' trip to the mainworld." From her stateroom, Vasquez spoke to Fox; "Try and work them around to have their backs to my door. Then go flat on three."

Hawkins whipped his pistol out and laid it against Fox's nose. "Now, Captain." he added. No time to waste, thought Vasquez. "Fox!" she transmitted, "One! Two! Three!" - and burst through the door.

To find that Hawkins and his troops had scattered, on the two, with two troopers poised ready in the corridor with Hawkins sheltered behind their armoured forms, and two more disappeared into Hum's stateroom behind them. Daly and Fox were behind her, partway to the bridge. Only then did the penny drop. The Imperials had been listening to the intercom all along.

She levelled her FGMP at the ones she could see and suggested they surrender. Hawkins' answer was to bluster that drawing weapons on Imperial customs officials was a High Justice crime, but if she laid down her gun she would be treated leniently and so on.

Vasquez racked her brains for long-ago briefings on Imperial Naval Intelligence and the ISS, their opposition, looking for a good name. Unfortunately the best she could find was Douglas Melasnikov, more a front-man for the Imperial Naval Intelligence than a real power. It was worth a try, though.

"Well done, Commander," she said, "You behaved just as Director Melasnikov said you would. The test is over and you have passed." There was a pause. Then: "You rebel scum," he snarled.

At this point Jeremiah appeared from the bridge and made a dive for his stateroom. One of the guards snapped a burst at him, but it slapped harmlessly into the doorframe as he dived inside. Hawkins stopped his men from firing any more.