The Fringe Wars

3.2

The Devil in the Details

Devil Town, Spate

"All systems green. Let's hope your intel is still good," Throttle said from the Gryphon's pilot seat. Her hands tapped across the instrument panel as the ship broke Spate's atmosphere and made its descent to Devil Town's space dock.

"It'd better be, or this trip will be very short," Captain Aramis Reyne said as he scanned the brown sky for any signs of patrol ships planetside. That the CUF patrols in orbit were light was reassuring—so far, everything was exactly as the latest intel provided on CUF operations in the Spate sector. The CUF had focused its armada around Terra, where the Fringe Liberation Campaign was in full swing, but with martial law deployed across the fringe, traveling from planet to planet without drawing unwanted attention had become complicated. He thought for a moment, then tacked on, "Better be ready for a hasty retreat, just in case."

"Just in case," she echoed.

Turbulence bumped the ship around as it descended through the planet's thin atmosphere, and the gravity pulled at the Gryphon like it'd been weighted down with lead. The young pilot handled the controls deftly, entering minute directional changes to minimize atmo burn.

"Here comes the moment of truth. Let's see if Devil Town is still an equal opportunity colony," she said before transmitting. "Dock Control, this is Phantom Cruiser Specter-Seven-Five-Five-One-Bravo. Request approval for docking sequence."

"Phantom Five-One-Bravo, docking approved. Proceed to Dock Hilo-Two. Notice to airmen, Docks Alpha through Charlie are in use by the Collective Unified Forces."

Throttle exhaled. "Sweet Sabra, the docks are still under Spaten control."

Reyne could see the tension relax from Throttle's shoulders, but he didn't share her relief. The CUF was using three docks, each with twenty slips, which meant there could be up to sixty ships docked at Devil Town. He may have drastically underestimated how many dromadiers were patrolling the fringe station. Too many.

Throttle replied to the dock control operator. "Phantom Five-One-Bravo acknowledged. Thanks for the notice. Proceeding to Dock Hilo-Two."

The Gryphon broke through the cloud layer, and the space dock came into view.

Reyne tapped the ship's comm. "Boden, prepare for docking."

"Aye, aye, Captain," came the mechanic's reply.

As Throttle ran the ship through its docking procedures, Reyne found his attention drawn to the larger docks, where the CUF ships sat, and he had to remind himself that no one on the ground could see the torrent symbol—the outline of a teardrop—painted on the side of his ship.

Dock Hilo was the smallest of the docks, and set apart from the other docks for privacy. Hilo was generally reserved for private ships and the colony's elite customers—the wealthy or famous who didn't want to be seen or have to walk through the crowds on the main docks. Recently, thanks to a generously large contribution to the dock control station operators, Hilo had been set aside for use by torrent ships. The CUF had no idea enemy ships were docking mere kilometers away from their own ships.

Throttle settled the Gryphon into its landing bay as gently as a mother placing her baby in a crib. Next to them sat the Nighthawk, a pirate ship with the torrent teardrop emblazoned across its side.

Throttle's brow rose. "If Five B's wanted to make a statement, I think he did. The CUF could've seen that paint job from a hundred miles away."

Humor tugged at Reyne's lip as he remembered the last time he drank with the Nighthawk's captain—he'd yet to drink with Five B's and not end up in the middle of a brawl. "It's Five B's. For some reason, I'm not surprised." He thought for a moment. "It's good news for us. No CUF patrols have come through this dock, or else the Nighthawk would have been publicly demolished by now."