Declassified

“It would only be dangerous for people on the ground.” She pointed at the top of the ship. “One of us could use the leak as cover to rappel down from above and enter the ship through its dorsal maintenance hatch.”

“And get shot by the sentries posted outside the hangar, who’d have a perfect angle to see over the commotion.”

Bridy folded her arms. “Good catch.” Then her mood brightened. “What if we cut the power at the same time? Plant a charge on the underground relay from the city’s mains, and set it off at the same time we snipe the coolant line?”

“Yeah, that wouldn’t be suspicious at all.”

“Who cares if it is? Once I’m in, I can hack the memory banks from the engine room and be out in under two minutes.”

Qui

“If I sabotage the transporter scrambler mounted at the top of the hangar, I can use my rubindium transponder to activate the Dulcinea’s remote transporter recall. As long as the merchantman’s shields stay down, I can beam out before anyone knows I was there.”

He gently slapped his forehead with his palm. “Right, the transporter. I keep forgetting we have it. I got so used to living without one on the Rocinante.” Lifting his chin toward the hangar, he said, “Now all we need to do is wait eight hours until nightfall, find a way to put you on top of that hangar, and make our play.”

“First, we’ll have to get you a silenced projectile weapon,” Bridy said. “One you can use to snipe the coolant line without giving away your position.”

“I have one on the ship. What else?”

“Just a deck of cards to help us pass—”

An explosion tore through the hangar, a radiant orange fireball rending metal and scattering bodies. The shock front lifted the Gorn troops off the street below and hurled them across the avenue into traffic, which was halted half a second later by the blast wave rolling vehicles like dice. Searing heat slammed against the building beneath Qui

Qui

Bridy adjusted the tricorder’s settings. “One Klingon life sign, male and hauling ass, leaving the hangar’s rear entrance and moving east.”

“Give you three guesses who has the intel we came for.”

She drew her phaser. “Time for Plan B.”

Bridy threw herself flat against one of the alley’s rough limestone walls and went from a full run to a dead stop without turning the corner. Half a second later, Qui

He disentangled himself from her. “Why the hell’re we stopping?”

She thrust her elbow backward and knocked him free. “Our Klingon pal’s less than twenty meters away.” She tilted her head to her right. “We need to catch him before he spots us.” She pulled her hood forward to better hide her face, stepped into the street, and beckoned Qui

They merged into the thick, fast-moving crowd. Bridy slipped and dodged her way forward, edging through narrow gaps in the river of bodies, closing the distance to the fleeing Klingon with each step. She used the folds of her cloak to hide her hands: she held her phaser in one and her tricorder in the other. Every few seconds she glanced at the tricorder, which was still locked onto the Klingon’s bio-signature. “He’s crossing the street,” she said, lifting her chin toward the target. Leaning slightly to her left, she got her first clear look at their quarry.

The Klingon seemed short for his species—Bridy estimated his height was no more than 170 centimeters—and he was slight of build. He wore drab civilian clothes and carried a disruptor in a hip holster. His swarthy, sinewy arms were bare, and a peculiar, metallic-looking wraparound sunshade concealed his eyes. He had close-cropped black hair with matching sideburns and a goatee.

Qui

“Good idea. You go left and cut through that alley. I’ll stay on his six.”

“Copy that.” Qui

Bridy waited for the next break in traffic. The sun beat down like a hammer of fire, and she sleeved sweat from her brow. At last, she crossed and continued closing the distance to the Klingon agent. Street vendors made aggressive efforts to waylay Bridy with samples of their wares, which ranged from fruit and vegetables to exotic textiles and bizarre gadgets whose purposes she couldn’t begin to imagine. She sidestepped the overzealous hawkers or shoved them aside and sustained her pace until she was within a dozen strides of the Klingon.

Twenty meters ahead, Qui

She quickened her pace and nodded at Qui

A pulse of charged plasma streaked overhead with a piercing screech and blasted away a chunk of the alley wall above Qui

He cursed as he leaped to cover behind some empty barrels, trailed every step of the way by a furious volley of plasma bolts.

The crowd in the street scattered in multiple directions, all of them moving away from Qui

Crap.

Qui

Bridy turned and followed the incoming fire back to its source: a Nausicaan on a rooftop with a scope-enhanced rifle. She lifted her phaser and fired at him, but struck the front of the building half a meter beneath his perch. The sniper recoiled momentarily, then trained his sights on her. Bridy ducked into a doorway just in time to avoid having her head shot off.

Gray smoke that stank of scorched metal filled the air. Bridy slung her tricorder at her hip and flipped open her communicator. “Qui

His anxious voice crackled with static. “Bridy, get outta here!”

“I can’t leave you here.”

“Every second you’re yapping, the Klingon’s ru