After the departure of the other teams the crawler had ventured into a side passage and halted for a wheel. The delay gave the raid team a chance to rest and the crew time to make repairs to the damaged modules, but it was also vital for the plan. Safkhet had to lure out the Formorians and Nefret and her team needed to navigate past Northastr without detection. With no way to communicate after parting ways, everyone would be required to move to a schedule, and while there was leeway built into the plan they could only delay or advance the jailbreak so much – and once that moment came there would be no turning back or waiting.
Now, under way again, they were nearing the great fortress that was the northernmost, highest point of the Pharyes demesne. Ahead, at the end of the leafy canyon they were slowly ascending, was visible the hardened stone ring which braced the entrance to the tunnel approach. Broad enough for three crawlers to pass together, the mechanism was a colossal valve, a simple metal disk set in the centre, able to rotate to seal the passage against any intrusion.
Grand as it was, the design lacked the style or mechanical flourishes of the doorways into noble warrens seen back in the Deephold – instead it was all ruthless, pragmatic efficiency, the weight of the reinforced barrier alone making it an impressive feat, even devoid of artistry and decoration. The edges of the ring were lined with a layer of metal, in which were seated turrets, the larger cousins of the fire, lightning and bolt-throwers which were equipped to Triskelions and crawlers.
The weapons pointed down the sloping canyon floor, ever on guard for attack from the many terrors of the Underworld, but the true purpose of the site was to delay any focused assault and pass warning to the fortress proper.
“Have you ever seen Northastr before, councilor?” Beyla asked.
“No, uh, I have never actually ventured away from the Deephold before…. I, um… I never saw the point, when my work was all there….”
“And yet you were chosen for this mission,” Beyla murmured, bemused. “By General Reginn himself.”
“By necessity rather than suitability,” Uldmar pointed out.
His tongue was as sharp as always, but the words lacked the bite they had once held towards the aulogemscire.
“Perhaps you’d like another sojourn in one of the observation pods as we make our final approach?” Beyla suggested, grinning.
Ivaldi had meant to pass the anxious hours of the wheel before the raid in the control room rather than the dizzying, unsteady prison of the crystal chambers atop the crawler, yet when he thought of the diagrams he’d seen in the past of their destination he found himself nodding quite before he’d actually worked up the courage to follow through on the suggestion.
He was saved being immediately pushed up the ladder into a pod however, as the communications officer spoke up.
“Captain, we’re not receiving voice from Northastr control. All frequencies are blank-”
“Gate weapons are tracking us, captain!” the tactical officer cut in.
“Full stop!” Beyla ordered. “Comms, there’s no response to our voice signal?”
“None, it’s like we’re… not transmitting….”
“Gate weapons are charged, Captain!”
“Explain,” Beyla ordered.
There was a pause before the man answered, his fingers dancing over the controls, probing at essence-conductors, feeling the signals the machine was giving even as he massaged dials and listened to the sounds over his headpiece.
“Captain… our external voice communications are… locked into a testing loop. We can’t send or receive.”
“Can it be corrected? If Northastr control are talking we need to hear it now.”
“I’m on it, should be simple now we know-”
A burst of distortion filled the control room, then stabilized into the sounds of a voice.
“-tain Beyla! Please respond!” spoke a high, fearful voice. “Is that you?!”
“This is Crawler Control Module PK-18-42 to gate command, Captain Beyla speaking. Apologies, we had a malfunction with our voice systems, now requesting authorization to make our final approach to Northastr.”
The captain spoke with an indulgent tone, which seemed to remind the other of the expected formalities.
“Ah, y-yes, coordinator Vurkli of Northastr control here, captain! We received your message, are you still under Formorian attack?!”
The control room was usually filled with voices and the mechanical sounds of levers being pulled and switches adjusted, however a hush came over the space at the words.
“We faced several direct assaults, and sent a number of messages, but I wasn’t aware any had reached you. What… exactly did the message say?” Beyla asked carefully.
After a short delay the answer came from the resonating voice crystals around the room.
“Uh… you – we were told you were pursued by a huge Formorian army, and that Northastr would come under all-out attack shortly after your arrival.”
The captain looked around at her crew, eyes blazing, demanding answers of them, but they had none to give.
To one side, Uldmar, Idavoll and the others of the group looked similarly stunned, while Ivaldi himself was reeling in horror.
The defenders at the fortress had been forewarned of the plan somehow.
Beyla could delay answering no longer, and reluctantly replied, keeping her tone level despite the confusion all around her.
“Tell them we fought off the attacks, and that in the narrow tunnels we overestimated the numbers we were facing. We’re not presently being pursued by any Formorian forces.”
“Control has been trying to reach you all wheel,” Vurkli replied, still sounding agitated. “Your last transmission warned of a massive force… are you… certain that was a mistake?”
“I believe my comms officer got a little carried away during the fighting, and wanted to make a report before the voice transmitters were damaged. As you’ve noticed, we have only just completed the repairs.”
Silence followed her lie.
The moment stretched long, into an uncomfortable delay, during which Vurkli was likely conferring with others in the gate control room, or back at the fortress itself.
“Understood,” came the answer, after an eternity’s wait. “You’re cleared to proceed to Northastr proper, Crawler Bay 12. Our mechanical crews will assist with your repairs. Colonel Malmr is expecting you and the Councilor.”
“My thanks,” Beyla said simply, before cutting the connection.
She said nothing afterwards, as the crawler began to stride forward once again.
It was only as the machine was physically passing through the opening of the gate and into the secured passage beyond that she too started to move.
It was a few minutes later that the Captain, first officer, and her gaggle of observers were gathered in the communication compartment. The room was filled with hydraulics and machinery, weaving around like organic growths, bursting from the walls here to plunge into the floor there, exposing various innards of the crawler to be worked on.
The person doing that work was the crew’s chief mechanic, a gruff, muscular older man, with a nose like an overripe mushroom and small eyes a little too close together.
Ivaldi had thought to offer him assistance, however the man was caked in dirt, and was quick to reach bare-handed into the mechanisms all around. He also seemed to know his business, despite not being an aulogemscire himself, and so Ivaldi concluded that there was really no need to meddle… or to touch any of the oily, unwashed surfaces.
Beyla, at the man’s side, was watching closely as he worked.
“What do you have? How could we be unaware the system was in a testing setup?” she asked.
“Found the problem,” the man replied, his gruff tone sounding pleased with himself.
“Had a person working on this just last wheel while we stopped.”
As he spoke he tapped his flow reader against the crystal surface of a gem-filled fluid chamber, the head of the tool glowing each time it clinked against the transparent front of the module.
“Must have left it in a test configuration… but the parity gem was bypassed.”
“Meaning?”
“No parity gem and the system can’t confirm it’s doing what it thinks is it, or that what you’re sending or receiving is right. Messages got sent from the control room to the transmitters, and they simulated a transmission then registered a successful output… and never actually pumped anything through the transmitters. Same with incoming messages, the system wouldn’t even have been aware of them, but would still read as being ready and working.”
“And the records of incoming and outgoing messages?”
“We’ve got everything from before the maintenance, but nothing after.”
“How could we be unaware of this for so long?!” asked the first officer.
“No way to detect it. Not in normal operations. This test setup simulates outgoing signals and simulates receiving the echo too – far as a comms officer can see, everything works normally. He did good to notice the issue and work around it.”
“Could this bypass have been made as part of normal maintenance and repairs?” the Captain asked.
There was a dangerous glint in her eye, and a sharpness to her tone which made Ivaldi glad that he was just an observer.
“It’s… not procedure,” the mechanic answered reluctantly, “but… it is a lot quicker to do a bypass when you’re working on voice systems and need to do a test.”
“I want to know who worked on the system and when,” Beyla replied.
“I do too Captain - whoever did this work needs a boot in the rear. Disgraceful state to leave the job in. Unfortunately whoever it was didn’t sign the work, they just marked it off as complete. Looks like no-one bothered to check that either. Gonna have to retrain the whole lot of them.”
“Are you confident the system was left in such as state purely through negligence?” asked Uldmar.
Stolen novel; please report.
The man shifted unhappily, as he came under the verbal scrutiny of the young lord. His ilk might well go their entire lives without ever even seeing a scion of House Hreidmar, let alone exchanging words with one. Ivaldi got the impression that the mechanic would have preferred to pass on that dubious honor.
“Well, uh… I mean my lord! It’s… not like the crew would do this on purpose, is it my lord?”
“Someone sent a message to Northastr without authorization, and you’re telling me there’s no record of who did it, and that after that happened the system was left disabled?” Beyla asked him.
The man took a step back, faltering at the ferocious look she wore. Perhaps the man had his own ‘lord’ to fear after all.
“It… would be a big coincidence….”
“Sabotage,” Uldmar murmured.
“But by who, and to what end?” Idavoll asked, frowning, “all they’ve accomplished is warning the fortress of impending danger – they know nothing of any plans beyond that.”
“Perhaps the culprit only knew that much?” Ivaldi suggested. “A… a snippet of overheard conversation, or perhaps it was just a mere suspicion after we commenced travelling with the surfacers? Everyone aboard knows something’s going on.”
“Even if that were so, we can’t predict what they might do next, Councilor,” the first officer pointed out.
“There’s no time for this,” Beyla growled. “Even if we can find the crewmember responsible we’ve no way to know they didn’t make the proper repairs only for another to sabotage the system later.”
“But the raid,” Ivaldi whispered, “the other teams are already in place… we can’t change the plans now….”
“No,” Uldmar spoke, “as the councilor says, we have no choice but to stay the path. Too much is already at stake for us to fear for our own wellbeing. We proceed for the sake of the kingdom, and an end to the war.”
~~~
“Lord Uldmar, a word if you would.”
Already on their final approach, the crawler would arrive at Northastr in mere minutes, but Idavoll had stopped Uldmar just as he was about to board his Skidbladnir. Gripping his arm she pulled him with her as she strode from the bay, forcing him to a half jog to match her long strides.
“Stay yourself, Idavoll,” Uldmar protested, at the undignified progress they made.
Yet for all he might command it, stay she did not. Idavoll had always been headstrong and assertive, even when she had been no more than the bratty older daughter of a tributary house to his uncle’s. Even now, many years later, she got away with indiscretions that Hlesey and the others wouldn’t have dared attempt.
“We need to talk before we arrive at the fortress.”
She spoke under her breath as she maneuvered them around mechanics and other pilots from their group. It wasn’t until she had him alone, in a small changing room, that she at last unhanded his arm and turned to face him.
“What exactly is the meaning of this, Idavoll? Colonel Malmr is expecting us.”
“The sabotage,” she said simply.
There was an unsettling intensity in her eyes, and tension the sinews of her jaw. As she looked down her long nose Uldmar felt a chill from that familiar face, framed in glistening tails of gold and silver.
“Whatever the chief mechanic might think, only sabotage can explain the voice malfunction – and only a traitor aboard the crawler could have sent the message Northastr received. Someone on this vessel has betrayed the… and betrayed us.”
“We have no choice but to continue, Idavoll,” he reminded her, “the raid is in motion, and we lack the power to halt it now. Should we fail to conduct our roles we lose what may be our only chance for peace with the surface, and for a stable secure supply of food for our people.”
“Better that than our lives – and theirs too. If we stop now there may still be hope to find another solution. If we go on… all will be lost….”
“What precisely do you mean by that? The message given to Northastr said nothing of our true intentions – it warned only to strengthen the defenses against outside assault.”
“Our spy knew enough to send that message, and then to disable voice reception in such a manner as to avoid our detection. Why they didn’t reveal more I don’t know, but it’s clear they mean to stop this plan. Betrayal could come at any moment once we begin our part in the raid. A hundred Skidbladnir could await us inside the cells, striking the moment we try to free one of the surfacers.”
Uldmar had seldom seen such fear in the eyes of the charming yet harsh woman. She had been terrified with the rest when the kajatora attacked certainly, but this was different. There was a vulnerability, a pleading look on her tapered face that made him long to reach up and take her cheek in his hand… to brush away her fears and make all right again. Just as she had done for him so many times when they were young.
“This plan… it was a mistake, Uldmar, don’t you see that? This isn’t like stealing a Skidbladnir and piloting it around the streets when we were small.”
“This plan is necessary, for the sake of the kingdom,” Uldmar replied stiffly. “I like it no better than you, but the surfacers have endured much from us, and we cannot ask them for trust – or support – without at least making some amends. Restitution of their lost loved ones to the surface is a vital bridge to peace and collaboration.”
“Collaboration you say… listen to yourself, Uldmar. We’re at war, but we’re orchestrating an attack on our own fortress – what we’re doing will make us enemies of the very kingdom we’re fighting for! If we’re exposed, even your uncle won’t protect you. It’ll be seen as treason against the King.”
“Yet we must still proceed, as I have stated before. We will be vigilant and take every possible precaution, but we will not stay our hand now at the final rotation.”
“And if you’re caught?”
There was a tear in her eye as she spoke the words, and with a pang of guilt Uldmar recalled the last time he’d made Idavoll cry. Not over his plans, but over hers… Hlesey had stepped in to escort her to the dance that wheel in his place.
Uldmar wondered again if Idavoll had known how jealous he was of the other nobleman. His duties had come first however, to house and kingdom. They still did.
“If I am caught I will tell the Colonel that I acted alone, and deceived my companions and the good Captain Beyla into assisting me under the ruse of a secret mission from the Justicar. None will question such a tale – better by far for just one noble scion to be executed, than for the pride of so many houses to be besmirched.”
Tears rolled silently down the delicate pale cheeks of Lady Idavoll.
His hand shook slightly as Uldmar reached up, to stroke away the moisture.
Idavoll pushed his arm away as she strode past him, trailing glittering droplets of her sorrow, like emeralds in the cool green light.
~~~
Once their vessel had put into dock the crawler passengers disembarked in their own personal Skidbladnir.
They could have simply used the usual crew platform, but as distinguished guests they were expected to present themselves in the proper ceremonial manner to be received by the welcoming party.
That left the vessel’s crew and the captain herself ignored however. Despite the grave responsibilities they bore, mere crawler captains like Beyla didn’t merit a personal Skidbladnir in which to greet officers or mingle with dignitaries.
“Colonel Malmr of Northastr, by your pleasure Councilor Ivaldi.”
Stood at the head of a line of his officers in their Skidbladnir, the aged military officer had disembarked his own vehicle and bowed his head as he spoke, outstretching his palms towards the delegation and greeting each of the other nobles present in turn. It was a display worthy of a royal delegation. A minor nobleman himself, the man showed it in his poise and refined manner, while losing none of the edge of a front line military officer.
The pomp of the circumstances and the unexpected attention of the small crowed present made Ivaldi glad that Idi moved with more assurance than he did - it’s hand never trembled the way his own had started to, and it’s headpiece never grew slick with sweat.
“I am glad to see you all arrived safely, despite the unanticipated attacks. I must commend your captain and her crew for bringing you to us safely, even if there were some deficiencies in their reporting on the situation. You needn’t fear any further now, even if your initial reports prove accurate – additional forces have been recalled to fortify the fortress against the coming assault. We cannot allow the Formorians to interfere with staging for the coming assault, let alone threaten Northastr itself, so we have increased the usual defenders threefold.”
Ivaldi felt his lips fall open at that, the assurance having the opposite of the intended effect. Could the raid plan work against such a huge concentration of forces? Was Safkhet unknowingly running headlong into an unintended trap, doomed to die uselessly while her allies could only cower inside the fortress and watch?
But it was far too late to send the girl warning, even if she had some way to receive voice transmissions, or tap into the ausa which allowed longer range messaging – any transmissions they tried to send would be detected by the base staff immediately.
“I do not anticipate such an attack materializing,” Lord Ulmar replied, seemingly unperturbed. “Captain Beyla performed impressively in fending off the assaults and dealing with attempts at pursuit. She has proven an excellent asset and a skilled leader during our time together.”
“As you say, Lord Uldmar. If you would follow me to the Skidbladnir bays….”
In short order the ceremonial frivolity of wearing around their towering war suits was dispensed with, the delegation disembarking in order to proceed into the living sections of the base afoot.
“Counselor, you look… unwell. Was the trip difficult?” asked one of the officers, as he helped the aulogemscire down the step from Idi’s cockpit.
Ivaldi’s heart gave a flutter as he felt the firm grip around his hand and arm, and saw the handsome features of the young man, a friendly, curious smile that reminded him of Reginn… but then his heart went back to pounding away, loud as a drum in his chest, and such thoughts were forgotten.
“It was… a new experience, uh, officer….”
“Luktri, Captain Luktri. Forgive me, Counselor, but… you seem anxious….”
“Formorian attacks would distress any Deepholder, unaccustomed to the horrors of the upper frontiers,” Malmr said sternly. “At these heights our patrols wage constant battle with theirs, and their hives surround us on multiple sides – up here there are even hives in the deep beneath us of all places.”
“It’s enough to make you dizzy,” another of the officers chimed in, with a laugh, “I don’t know how the Varangians cope with travelling all the way to the surface. It makes my head spin.”
“I hope your diversion was worth the dangers you faced,” Malmr said, as he took the lead, walking abreast of Ivaldi and Uldmar.
“Indeed so,” the lord replied, “it was unfortunate that we could not await assistance, however the matter of the shockwave was too urgent to ignore.”
“Quite so, had your communication not washed up when it did we were planning our own investigatory team. Is there anything new you can report?”
“Alas not, our people have a variety of theories, each more fanciful than the last. There is no immediate danger we could discern, but beyond that it remains a mystery.”
“And these theories, my lord?”
“Nothing I would venture to report to the King or my uncle.”
Malmr stiffened at the pointed mention of the familial link, but still he seemed unwilling to take the hint.
“That is… unfortunate. I regret that your team couldn’t join us sooner.”
For a moment the two men locked eyes, however the Colonel was quick to look down.
“But we are grateful for your efforts on our behalf, and for your safe arrival of course. Is his lordship the Justicar well? I fear for his own health since the King has grown older and begun to delegate more to his council.”
“Well enough, I’m sure. He was in rude health when last I spoke with him.”
“Please do send him my greetings when you return.”
“Naturally. I will go to my chambers now. I have been many wheels away from my warren.”
“Naturally. Perhaps in the meanwhile the Chief Aulogemscire and his people can begin their examination? Major Fjoturr’s Vidrband has already been repaired and will be returning to the surface in time for the next offensive, however Colonel Ilmr’s Dreyra and Captain Eyrir’s Silfskjotr have been pronounced beyond our repair by our own aulogemscires. If they can be salvaged it is urgent that the process begin at once, if they’re to be ready in time.”
The suggestion made perfect sense of course – it was the official purpose of their visit after all – but with Safkhet already luring out the nearby Formorian forces they couldn’t afford to be stuck in a closely watched and well guarded lab.
“As Lord Uldmar said, I-I too would prefer to retire to my rooms and, um… refresh myself somewhat, after the journey…,” Ivaldi suggested.
“Very good, Counselor,” Malmr said, looking distinctly displeased. “I presume the rest of your team will commence at once however? Captain Luktri can show you the way to the repair bays, councilor, and then guide you on to your rooms. I will send for the rest of your team from the crawler as soon as they are disembarked.”
Dismissed from the conversation without a chance to disagree, Ivaldi allowed himself to be guided in a different direction to Uldmar and the other nobles, his assistants following along.
~~~
Space aboard a Pharyes crawler was already limited for a Pharyes. For an ogre travel on the vessels meant consignment to the cargo bays – when you stood as tall as a Skidbladnir there was no chance of retiring to the relative comfort or luxuries of the living quarters. That was all the more true when said crawler had put into port, and crew from the base were all around, assisting in refueling and making repairs. The raid team were left with no choice but to sit in silence, in the dark heat of the holds, with the hatches locked shut.
“Whew, the grubs really did a number on somma your modules, eh?”
The voice was unknown to Gastores, and despite his great efforts to study the Pharynx tongue, the dialect was alien to his ear, made worse by the distortion of the voice crystal, leaving the bulk of the words too fast or slurred for him to parse. Only Sulis seemed able to make sense of what the dock chief was saying to the captain, up in the control room.
Beyla’s response was clearer, but still hard for him to grasp without the running translation Sulis was giving. What was easy to notice was the tension in her voice.
“There was a partial cave-in, however we made the vital repairs ourselves. All we need from you are parts and resupply.”
“No doubt, that mechanic of yours, good stuff,” the other said cheerily, with a sound like a clap on an arm or shoulder, “but it wunna do, leave it like this. First off, we should inspect each module. Gotta be knockon damage, from the overpressure, yanno? We’ll start with the cargo modules – any of them need swapping out and we’ll want a head start on moving the contents, right? I got a team on the way now.”
“That won’t be necessary, Vigg.” Beyla said sharply, even as around him Gastores heard gasps and muttered sounds of dismay.
“You can call your team back. As I said, my crew can handle any further repair work.”
“You what? Don’t be playing now Beyla, this is serious, I let you walk outta here with a blown valve sommere and it’s my reputation as gets blown too. I’m not having no-one say Northastr don’t have the best dock crew in the kingdom.”
“My chief mechanic would say the same thing, Vigg. It’s his pride against yours, and I have to live with him not you.”
“Cold, Captain, real cold. Here I was letting you offa that cask of wine you owe me too.”
“I’ll bring you one next time.”
“You serious, Beyla?”
“Always, when I’m on duty.”
Outside the cargo bay there were sounds just audible, of trudging worker golems approaching the modules in which the raiders lay hidden.
A chime sounded, as someone tried to work the bay doors – and found them locked.
There was a pause, while over the voice crystal they heard the muffled sounds of another voice, retransmitted to their ears.
“Hey… what is this?” Vigg asked, a note of suspicion creeping into his tone… or so it seemed to the Ogre.
“Why are your cargo bays sealed off? I dunno what other ports are like, but this inna the way we do it at Northastr! My lot’s already geared up, an this is my responsibility too.”
“Tell your people we don’t need them,” Beyla insisted, “my chief was clear, he doesn’t want anyone messing with his systems, not after someone at our last port cracked one of the core housings. And especially not after some new hand broke the voice system in the middle of an emergency last wheel!”
“Look here, Beyla, you never said nothing about maintenance inspections before! And it’s wartime protocols now – inna the same as before, my neck’s on the line here, or at least my position. Even if your chief reckons you’re in shape I gotta check you over, same as all the rest – else I’ll be the one inna mess!”
The sounds outside repeated, the system once again refusing entry. There followed a banging sound, penetrating the reinforced metal plating of the door to echo through the compartment.
“What do we do?!” hissed Ripides.
“We stay still and quiet,” Gastores replied. “If they get the door open… drag them in and gag them, and maybe, just maybe no-one will realize they’re missing until the raid starts….”
It was a terrible plan, and all present had to know it… but no-one seemed to have a better suggestion.
“Beyla, what’s going on?” Vigg demanded, “you really tell your crew to lock us outta the cargo bays?”
“Our teams are already working in there,” the first officer said, a little too quickly.
“Really? What for? Not exactly a priority, is it? When you gotta great big mess of dents in the topside…. This is like you trynna keep us outta your holds specific. Like you trynna keep us from seein’ something in there…. Think I better have a word with control about this.”
“Don’t!” Beyla exclaimed.
There was silence over the transmission for several beats.
“I knew it!” Vigg hissed.
Gastores felt his stomach drop. All around he saw faces frozen in horror. This was it; the raid had failed before it had even begun.
“You always acted just a little too upright, you know Beyla? Little bit too honest…. Well good to know you’re no bettern the rest of us!”
“What?”
It was Beyla’s turn to sound confused.
“I told you, I’m onto you already. No point trynna hide it from me. You put on a good front, but we both know what that detour was really about.”
Gastores gulped, his throat painfully, dry. Sulis was quietly chanting a spell. Others were preparing weapons.
They wouldn’t be taken without a fight. Perhaps… if they could free the captives they could break out, even without the plan. Even a chance in a thousand was better than being caught and beaten.
“You’re gemstone smuggling!” Vigg declared triumphantly.
“We are?” Beyla asked, in bewilderment.
“Ha! Got you!” Vigg retorted in triumph, as if taking the words as an admission. “Well I can’t say I never thought on it myself – all those gemstones down there in Vitrgraf, already mined, just waiting for anyone readya risk it to go gettem! But to think you’d be the one… credit to you, Captain. Never thought you had it in you!”
“Yes,” Beyla replied slowly, her voice stiff and strained. “Well you’ve caught me… I’m as bad as you… as everyone else, apparently. But I still can’t let you into those cargo bays, Vigg. Now you know why, you can send your team away. They can work on the topside armor instead.”
Even as she spoke there were more bangs at the door, and the sounds of liquid pumping, as someone operated the controls outside….
“Now now, not so fast there Beyla, this inna simple cask of wine here… this is enough gemstones to set a man up for life… right? Even split across you and your crew!”
“I… suppose that it is, yes.”
“Well then, with riches like that, you won’t mind sharing the wealth, will you?”
“If you’re suggesting I let you in there to fill your pockets-”
“Nahhh nah,” Vigg cut her off before she could get into full flow. “Nothing that obvious. This inna my first time through the tunnels you know? Look you got a whole train of modules locked down – which means they’re all loaded up too, right?”
The banging outside was growing louder.
“Your point being?”
“Well, when we’re doin’ maintenance we might havva switch out a damaged module or two… put the bad one inna storage until we can take a closer look… won’t be no-one watching in the storage hangars, if me and the team come by, time to time, and do a little unloading…. And you only gotta part with a tiny little bit of what you got….”
“And in return for this… gift?”
“Well in return me and the dock crew can let your chief mechanic have his way, and do the internals all on his lonesome… and not tell a soul either.”
“Fine, Vigg,” Beyla spoke in almost a growl. “You have a deal. Just don’t think you’re getting that wine cask out of me next I come through.”
The man cackled in glee. “Forget your wine! After this my drinks gonna be laced with gemstones!”
“Just call your team back already,” Beyla snapped.
“Alright, alright, steady now. Don’t wanna make a fuss, might attract some officer attention. Bunch of stuffy twerps. Er, present company aside apparently.”
A moment later the sounds outside had ceased.
“Bet you thought you’d pull one over on ol’ Vigg, eh?” the man said, his voice smug and self-satisfied. “Prolly would have worked at another port too, but I know you too well, Beyla! You can’t fool me!”