The guard at the entranceway was not going to let her just walk through. Grace still had the credit chit to pay for the location of the supposed wreck site. She wondered if it would be enough to get him to look the other way. But if it wasn’t, it would make getting out much harder. She walked the perimeter of the docking bay, trying to see if there might be another way in.

Coming around the side of the bay, she heard a commotion. There was a man being hassled by a group of younger men surrounding him. He was carrying some sort of camera, the old fashioned bulky kind that looked reasonably expensive to Grace. She figured he was probably some sort of war correspondent to be here with that kind of equipment; it was certainly not the kind used for holiday photos. The man was fiercely clutching the camera, not letting go, and one other was saying, “We don’t want to hurt you.”

“No, you don’t understand,” he said. “I need this. My work—”

“And we need it for our work,” the first man replied. He had an accent Grace recognised from one of the less populated cluster systems. The photographer on the other hand spoke like he was from the Mellotte.

“Knock it off, you guys!” Grace yelled. They all turned and looked at her. None were particularly impressed. “What are you bothering this man for?” Grace asked.

“He’s got my camera!” the other man said.

Grace laughed. “You couldn’t use a camera if you tried. You’ve probably only taken pictures with your slate. Do you even know what an aperture is?” she asked him.

“Of course I do! Proper photographer, me,” the thug replied defensively.

Grace looked at him with a hint of pity. “Of course you are. But I don’t quite believe you. Why don’t you run along and leave him be?”

The three men stepped aside from the photographer and now approached Grace.

Shit, she thought. This was perhaps not the best of ideas. Why did I try this? I wasn’t going to fight them off, even if the good boy newspaper reporter here gave a hand, which did not seem overly likely.

“You idiots,” she said. “I’ve called station security two minutes ago. They’re right round the corner.”

She hadn’t, and they didn’t seem to believe her. Worth a go, but no luck, she thought.

“Of course you did, sweetheart,” the first man said. “Now, hand over your credits.”

“Yeah, that’s not happening,” she said.

Just then, several members of station security stepped round the corner. The three troublemakers looked slightly panicked.

“I can’t be here,” one of them said. “I’ve got priors.”

“Me too,” said another, and they headed off in the other direction. Grace knew she now had a fighting chance and moved in on the ringleader, who quickly followed his compatriots.

“Thank you,” said the photographer. “My name is Miles.”

“Don’t worry about it,” said Grace. “Happy to help.”

“I was en route to Caelus IV shipyards when all this happened,” he said. “I was supposed to be placed on one of the ships heading out to defend the cluster, but my connecting transport never arrived. I’ve been stuck here for six days.”

“Tough break,” said Grace. “Tell me, what are you doing down here?”

“My press credentials give me access to the shuttle bays. I was hoping to hitch a ride.”

“Well,” said Grace, “good luck with that. You need it.”

“Thanks. How did you know to call security like that?” he asked.

Grace shrugged. “I didn’t. I was totally bluffing. But they patrol this site fairly regularly, don’t they?”

“Now the lockdown has been declared, I suppose so.”

The guards approached them.

“Hello there,” Grace said. “I’m Grace Dakota, and this is Miles,” she said. “He’s a photojournalist. We’re doing a story for the Melotte sun newspaper. Can you lead us into the shuttle bay?”

She held out her hand towards Miles. He was confused for a moment and then handed her his credentials. She showed them to the security guard, who studied them for a moment.

“You know we’re in complete lockdown?” he said.

“Of course we do,” said Grace. “That’s the angle. People never get to see what these places are like when no one’s in them. We wanna take a few photos and write a hundred or so words as a sidebar piece. The station administrator signed off on it.”

The guard thought on this for a moment, then nodded and handed the card back to Miles with a surprising amount of disinterest.

“Be very quick about it,” said the security guard with a forced smile, then headed off. Grace slapped Miles’s chest with the back of her hand.

“Nice work, Miles,” she said enthusiastically. “That was smooth.”

They walked over to the entrance and entered the main docking bay. It was packed with auxiliary ships—small craft, mainly for ship-to-surface transfers, some personal transports, others stationed on larger craft and used to transfer to the way-station.

“Have you got a ship?” Miles asked.

“Do I have a ship?” said Grace with a snort. “Of course I’ve got a ship. You’re gonna love it.”

“Where are you heading, and can I hitch a ride?”

“I don’t usually pick up hitchhikers, Miles,” said Grace.

Miles looked suddenly very concerned.

“But for you, I’ll make an exception.” She winked.

“Thanks,” said Miles.

Sprinting through the shuttle bay, Grace urgently lead the way. She didn’t want to give anyone the chance to stop them, and she knew exactly where she was going. Her slate was already in her hand, and with a quick tap, she disengaged the ship’s security and remotely opened the side hatch. Throwing a quick glance over her shoulder, Miles only a few steps behind, his camera equipment swinging wildly from side to side. He grabbed the strap, securing it tightly in both hands as he closed the gap.

Stolen story; please report.

Grace paused at the bulkhead, letting Miles board first before quickly following behind him. She slammed her fist against the sensor to close the door, sealing them inside. Without missing a beat, she headed straight for the cockpit. A few moments later, Miles dropped into the co-pilot’s chair, slightly out of breath but focused.

Grace ran a quick scan of the station’s systems. As expected, the station wasn’t currently granting anyone permission to leave, but they also weren’t actively restricting movements within the station either. Most importantly, she confirmed there were no active weapons systems and there were no naval ships patrolling the area. If they could just get out of the bay, they should be home free.

“Let’s go,” she said, and Miles nodded in agreement.

The ship powered up gently, and Grace pushed forward on the controls, guiding it towards the open bay door.

“Good thing they didn’t close it,” she muttered, her eyes focused on the target. Somewhere deep in the administrative centre of the station, an alarm was probably blaring, but that was no longer her problem.

She eased the manoeuvring thrusters into action, careful to keep the ship centred on the bay door. A single degree off, and they’d scrape a lot more than just paint off the side of the ship. But then, to her horror, she noticed the door was closing.

Miles pointed at the rapidly descending door.

“They’re closing it! They’re trying to trap us in!”

“Not on my watch,” yelled Grace, her eyes narrowing in determination. “Hold on!” She switched to sublight engines, praying she wasn’t even slightly off target. The ship shot forward like a bat out of hell, barrelling toward the narrowing gap. The communications panel lit up with frantic messages from the station admin centre, but Grace ignored them. She was too focused on their escape. The ship shot out of the station just as the door slammed shut behind them, missing them by mere meters. Relief flooded her, but there was no time to celebrate just yet.

She quickly pulled up the navigation system. Since getting this hip back, she had taken to keeping an emergency hyperspace jump pre-calculated whenever she entered a system. Without hesitating, she activated the drive.

The station disappeared behind them, shrinking rapidly into the distance as they were thrust into hyperspace. The familiar blackness of space gave way to the surreal, abstract shapes of the hyperspace field.

Grace had once been hit on by a scientist who tried to explain the physics of hyperspace travel to her. She hadn’t been interested then, and she wasn’t interested now. All that mattered was that it worked. She checked the sensors; no one was following them. The station had bigger problems than trying to track down one ship.

Grace slumped back in the pilot’s chair, laughing with a mix of relief and exhilaration.

“We did it, Miles!” she said, turning to him with a grin. They high-fived, and she added, “Hope you didn’t leave anything behind you needed.”

“I’ve got my camera. That’s what matters,” Miles replied, still catching his breath. “Nice flying, by the way.”

“Thanks,” Grace said, a bit of pride creeping into her voice. “Didn’t hit anything, either.”

“Obviously,” Miles deadpanned, though Grace wasn’t sure if he was joking or just incredibly dry.

“So, where are we going?” he asked after a moment, curiosity clear in his voice.

“Honestly? No idea,” Grace admitted with a shrug. She pulled up the star charts, noting their current trajectory towards the central planets. “Where do you want to go?”

“I was hoping to get close to the front lines,” Miles said. “War photography can be very lucrative.”

Grace raised an eyebrow, impressed. “You’re my kinda guy,” she said with a grin. “But as for me, well, that depends on this.” She pulled out the data card she had swiped from Marco and held it up.

“You gonna plug it into the nav system?” Miles asked, eyeing the card.

“No way,” Grace said, shaking her head. “I have no idea where this has been. I’ve got a gap machine in the back.” She stood up and headed to the rear cabin, returning a moment later with a small palm-sized device. She slid the card into the machine, and a hologram flickered to life above it.

“Well, well, well,” Grace purred, a smile spreading across her face. “Looks like it’s at Beta Persei. That’s not too far from where you’re heading. I can drop you off on the way.”

“That could work out quite well,” Miles said, nodding. “I’m sure I can find a connection from there. What exactly are you looking for?” he asked, his curiosity piqued.

“All the gold in the colonies, baby,” Grace replied with a gleam in her eye. She did a little celebratory dance in her seat, moving her arms from left to right as if she were already counting her future riches.

Miles watched her with a puzzled expression. “You’ve never hunted for buried treasure before, have you?” he asked, amusement in his voice.

“Looked? I’ve found it,” Grace said confidently, a sly smile on her lips.