Florinda approved. "I've heard worse. Now, we've had time to analyze the data you returned, and this is the first time we've heard of any GRN fighter patrols so near the minefield...it could mean they're getting bolder, or it could mean nothing. Either way, it's new information, and the time you spent fighting them gives us a larger sample size for our engineers to analyze their technology.
As it turned out, the tertiary briefing room was little more than a cleaned-out storeroom barely five meters on each side, and with a screen hung against a wall. There was also a small desk in front of the screen for the briefer to sit at, and six chairs in front of the desk for everyone else. Uncushioned, of course - this was a room meant for the rapid discussion of dangerous business directly before its conduct, not for comfort.
Florinda folded her hands in front of her. Now, however...now, we have a real mission for you. We know roughly where the jump hole into Gallia from Omicron-80 is...but we know very little about what's on the other side. This is a real scouting mission: these Gallians are only two jumps from Alpha, and we need to know what they're up to. This means regular trips to the other side to have a look around.
This is routine; we send a small ship through that hole once every week or so, just to take a peek. For the most part, after we blew up their first wave of scouts, they've left us alone and not even ventured to the other side of the jump hole. But if you ARE intercepted...you're on your own. We think they don't know where Alpha is yet...and we have to keep it that way. You will not so much as jump back into Omicron-80, still less flee to Genoa, if you are being pursued in any fashion whatsoever. Understood?
They nodded.
Good. Rules of engagement are whatever. We've been blowing up their scouts, and they probably aren't happy about that, but we really don't know how they feel about us right now. They might hate us, they might still be confused as to who's who out here. Try not to kill anybody unless you have to...dead Gallians can't buy our cardi, and shooting will just alert them to your presence. Get in, scan some stuff, get out, but use your discretion. You can't bring back any info if you're dead. And like Manuel told you, do this, and you get to keep the Sabre for whatever you want to use it for...though we'll be understandably peeved if you use it against us. By which I mean we will hunt you down and dissemble you both into your component parts. Got all that?
Fly in, scan, keep the guns cool, fly out, and don't kill fellow cardi-breathers, Katashi answered. Got it.
Alright, then. In addition, I've gone over your written accounts of your, ah, 'encounter' with that Corsair...and we've got nothing on the guy. You're looking for a Corsair that you hauled to Fairbanks, but who was busted out by somebody-or-other, right? Of course, you're taking his word for that...he might just be yanking your chain, 'cuz we haven't heard of anybodyever breaking out or being broken out. All kinds of stories about those places. One-third true, one-third made up by Liberty to scare people, and one-third made up by people claiming to've been there to make themselves seem tougher.
Right," Katashi scowled deeply. "And he was flying a Titan at the time, and if he's to be believed, he's got a Praetorian now. No way to tell if he was truthful about that, either...we shot down a fair number of Corsairs in different types of ships, and for all we know he's got a cruiser command now. Damn...didn't even cross my mind he might be lying about all that. Crap. Back to square one.
Well. So. One way to find this guy might be to try to sneak into one of the most heavily-guarded systems in Sirius and get close enough to one of the highest-security prisons in known space to try to steal their secured and shielded data.
"Because it would be. But as they say, there's more than one way to flog a dog. Or whip a chicken. Or something. You'll want to talk to the Hackers about it, anyway...and ask around on Junker stations or something. This guy found you somehow...he'll have left a trail, even if it's just a trail of dead bodies."
Katashi and Ren looked at each other, both thinking of the Corsair's mention of Gallia.
Florinda, however, paid their looks no mind. "We have a base in Omicron-80, on which you have clearance to land, even before you go in, to refuel or whatever. Don't try to land on Malta until you're done with this mission, though...we don't let just anybody on our home world. Complete your task, return to Genoa - that's our base there - and then we'll see. You'll have the fighter, at least." She stood up, and held out her hand again. "Good luck to you both."
They shook her hand in turn, and left for the hangar. As usual, Ren didn't really relax until they were in space, at which point she spoke up for the first time since leaving their room that morning. "She's right, you know. We have no reason to believe anything that Corsair told us is true."
"Yeah...we'll have to find out how he discovered we were still alive, and when we were leaving Gallia...he knew right where to go to meet us, Ren. Exactly where to go. Not a whole lot of people knew that, so it shouldn't be hard to figure out who let it slip. I can't believe neither of us thought of that."
"I can."
"That's because you're contrarian."
"No, it's because I'm realistic. It's been...what? Three days? Four? You're still limping heavily, and it still hurts when I cough. We've had plenty of other stuff cluttering our minds. Anyway...who could've betrayed us?"
"Junkers," Katashi offered. "We landed on Lodeve early on, before we'd been told they're the Bad Guys in Gallia...and were lucky to get off the spaceport before they fully realized how clueless we were."
"No way. Junkers aren't like that, we don't do that. We're a family, and we look after each other."
"Maybe in Sirius, but it seems Gallic Junkers are a different bunch..."
Ren cut him off. "And you know this how? We never so much as talked to another Junker after that. We just took the Council's word for it."
"How can we be sure without investigating? We need to spend more than just a few hours in Gallia to puzzle this out. Can we at least agree on that much?"
For several moments, the only sound in the cockpit was the steady hum of the life-support systems, and the deeper thrum of the engines. "Fine. We'll see if we can get a freighter or something to spend more time there...but we're not landing. If he's got contacts in Gallia somehow, that might clue them in. We'd mostly be cruising through empty space, trying to listen in."
"Sounds good."
* * * * *
Surprisingly, the Genoa Base ship dealer had something available. It was a boxy, green thing...slightly smaller than the Spatial, but it had more interior space owing to the placement of its twin engines outboard, on the tips of the fat "wings". The wings held most of the freight space, while the fuselage was reserved for "clean" cargo and living quarters - plus an airlock. It was an X11, a civilian deep space exploration craft, also intended for docking-ringless atmospheric landings.
Not normally sold on Genoa, this specific craft had been left behind by a recon pilot who'd decided he'd rather be a fighter jock, and thus traded it for a Sabre. It wasn't very pretty, but it had the space, the accommodations were cramped but perfectly adequate, it had the equipment, the capabilities...and it was the same price as their Sabre.
A few hectic hours later, their few possessions were loaded, their cannon and light arms were transferred, cardi was in the air scrubbers, and it was ready to go. After launch, they took a few experimental loops around the base, and some target practice on random pieces of flotsam. "We won't be doing any dogfighting, but it'll work," Katashi concluded. With that statement of overwhelming confidence, they engaged the cruise engines and set off toward the minefield.
