Jinx pushed past Olsen, her mind racing as she exited the airlock onto A-Deck. No way had some pirate got his or her arse killed on a roach vessel, not as part of an offensive breach. They'd never have got on board.

So, what the hell had she found?

The basics she'd confirmed with her scanner. While the organic matter on her sleeve couldn't be officially identified, the flag it raised about warrants told her enough. The organic belonged to a sentient species that loved lawyers and its privacy enough to have set up bureaucratic protections. A few species in the Coalition fitted that bill, but only one of them leaked red biofluids.

She swore silently and tried not to think about what had happened to whoever had bled on the Xykeree's deck. Telling herself it had probably been some moron criminal didn't make her feel better. Before leaving the airlock, she'd checked the relevant sections of the Arterus Treaty. The Xykeree had to report any altercations with humans, and as far as she knew, the roaches were yet to mention killing or apprehending anyone during the attack on their vessel.

Dem appeared in her path, pulling her up short, Soh a step behind him, her leggy, overall-clad form towering over his squat hulk. "Tell me I can clear the bastard for repairs, before a damn riot starts."

Seeing his grumpy red face, Jinx felt her throat clog with the urge to dump everything on him: unidentified organic; blackout; looming personal crisis—the works. Dem considered the term 'slave driver' a compliment, but he looked after his own. From day one, he'd made it clear that included her. She owed him for that.

And that was just one more reason to swallow the words strangling her. Unloading her personal crap onto her friends would be unfair and pointless. Besides, further fainting spells aside, her problems were on hold—her resignation included. She wasn't letting Soh or anyone else on the barge until she knew what the hell was going on.

She dismissed Olsen and Rolli with a curt wave, but the look Olsen gave her as he strode away made it clear someone from Medical would be on her back very soon. Shit.

She got to the point. "No one is to go on board. Credible biological threat. And I mean no one." She shifted her attention from Dem to Soh. "The flesh-eating bastards want their ship fixed, they do it themselves. Advise and supply only."

Dem hissed out an oath. "What kind of damn threat?" He tried to grab her wrist com, but Jinx slapped his hands back.

"You'll get my report after I brief the techs."

"Damn it, Jinx—"

"Don't push me, Dem. Jesus, you frigging owe me for doing that inspection. You don't get to argue with my findings." She swung away, avoiding all further questions.

The gathering outside the airlock had grown. More armed Enforcement officers, more bureaucrats, more technicians and supply handlers, all with data pads and damp pits. Even better, a collection of intent faces now peered through the two-story viewing window near the public lifts. Sleazoid reporters and rubberneckers mingled with passengers and crew who'd had their flights delayed.

Jinx's jaw tightened. What she'd found wasn't for public consumption. She'd already had to misdirect Olsen and Rolli, telling them she'd bumped her nose when she'd fainted.

But the blood wasn't hers. She remembered finding it—just a few unnerving seconds of time—and her only injuries from the fall were a couple of banged up knees and a slight scrape on the back of her neck.

"Officer Koel!" A familiar, well-groomed figure pushed clear of the gathering as Jinx approached: Gia Smaith-Willis, Legal's senior hit woman. Dem swore, and Jinx had to concur. Even after five years on Tirus, the lawyer hadn't lost the suit and tight bun, nor realised rules were wishful thinking.

"What's the vessel's status, CI?" The sleek brunette planted herself in front of Jinx, data pad clutched to her faux-silk blouse. "And why haven't you submitted the inspection documentation yet? What's the delay?"

Jinx took a second to let irritation pass. The lawyer's square HUD-enhanced glasses didn't quite hide the tension marring her usually synthetically smooth brown skin. Wrinkles. On Gia? The woman was having a shit day along with everyone else.

And it was about to get crappier.

Jinx cut straight to the chase. "The 4-M is quarantined. Level five."

"Really?" Gia cocked an eyebrow and pursed sharply pencilled silver lips. "Are you high, Ms Koel? Do I need to call someone down here to conduct a drug test? Your grip on reality and the seriousness of this situation seems impaired."

"Give us a minute." Dem yanked Jinx a few steps away. "What the hell, Koel? We never hold up a crew because of a level five threat. All that's required is physical containment of the hazardous organism and restricted access."

"Exactly. We're restricting access." Jinx shook him off and let loose a harsh whistle. She managed to get most heads to jerk up from screens and com units. "Listen up, tech junkies. The roach barge is off limits until further notice. Level five quarantine. You enter it, kiss your health insurance goodbye. Also, I will totally kick your arses."

Soh stepped up beside Gia as the lawyer cursed under her breath. "What kind of threat are we dealing with, Jinx?"

"Multiple large, aggressive carnivores."

Dem snorted. "On a military ship? The roaches got a fucking zoo in there?"

"I'm talking about the crew." Jinx accessed her com and punched 'submit', dumping her report and warrant request where they belonged—Dem's lap. "I wasn't on board longer than two minutes when a plaz or laser weapon of some sort was pointed at my head. No one goes on board, and nothing leaves that barge."

"For fuck's sake." Dem threw his hands in the air. "You're a goddamn CI. You're not doing your job on this dirt ball if someone isn't out to shoot you."

"Officer Koel," Gia broke in impatiently. "The crew have requested full planetary access. Apparently, there's debris from their craft they need to retrieve from ground sector three. If we arbitrarily deny their request, we will be in violation of section 5.2.3c of the Intergalactic Transiting Authority Code."

"And what code did they violate when a weapons class photonic was held thirty centimetres from my skull, Advisor Smaith-Willis?"

"Section 12.1.1 of the ITAC; section 34, clause b of the Arterus Treaty; section 8.4 of the—"

"Exactly," Jinx interrupted. "You don't piss off the ground CI if you want ground leave. Everyone knows that. Let the roaches stew in their malfunctioning environmental system for a few hours. See if they're ready to play nice after that. The quarantine stays in place until the safety of port staff isn't in question."

"Officer Koel—"

"It's standard procedure, Ms Smaith-Willis. Dem, tell her."

Her supervisor sent her a killing look. No CI ever wanted to discuss with Legal the 'general pressure' applied to get the more delinquent crews to fall in line. Jinx saw herself being scheduled for a thirty-day stretch of rust-bucket duty on C-Deck, the port's roughest dock level, but figured she wouldn't be around to suffer it.

As Gia turned to the flustered senior CI with a frown that promised a long discussion with many codes quoted, Jinx grabbed Soh and fled towards the elevators.

"Jinx, tell me you didn't piss off a roach?"

"Don't give me any shit, Soh. Their crappy attitudes are hardwired." Jinx pulled her friend aside and checked around her. Eyes were on them. A rough-looking man even had a com pressed to the deck's viewing wall. Probably a news freelancer, but he looked like loser scum. More than a few people in the public observation area did. Not two metres from the reporter, a guy in a tatty hoodie slumped against the window as if barely able to stand, though his well-muscled frame and Zex-armoured pants suggested if he sobered up, he might be up to causing more than a little trouble. At the other end of the plex section, another addict watched with red-rimmed eyes, staring at her in a way that made her think she'd grounded his 'supply' ship at some stage.

Jinx found her hand dropping to her right thigh. The instinctive act reminded her to retrieve her stunner from her locker. The Xykeree's presence and the storm delays had stirred up more than the media's interest. There'd be more than the usual badgering and threats from Tirus 7's dirtbag population.

She tugged Soh behind a stack of supply crates. When it came to privacy, room shielding could only do so much. "What do you know about the Xykeree?"

"Besides their shitty history?" Her friend made a face. "I've seen schematics of some of their tech. Brute mech mostly. Creepy but outdated as far as cybernetics is concerned."

"Only you would think about roach upgrades, Soh." In the familiar bustle of the port, with her friend coolly classifying roaches as obsolete tech, Jinx was tempted to write off the last half hour, pretend it had never happened. But the dull ache around her eyes wouldn't let her. Nor would the memory of what she'd found. "What's this void shit about the roaches wanting ground privileges for retrieval?" A need for full planetary access could explain the aliens' unnatural enthusiasm for an inspection.

"I don't know." Soh looked across the docking area to her colleagues. "No one from Structural or Mech Services has been called in, which you'd expect if a panel, hatch, or landing clamp had got dislodged."

"So, they're lying?"

"Who knows. But the images I pulled up of the craft's arrival don't back up their story either. No obvious missing pieces. There's plenty of heat scoring evident, so the old heap has definitely seen action. Maybe someone did try to breach their hull like they said, but how old those scars are is anyone's guess. Most of the damage seems cosmetic or will only require attention at the vessel's next service."

"Then what did they lose in sector three?"

"I don't know, but while you were in that ugly tin can, Gia got a call from her boss. Apparently, there are three other Xykeree ships in orbit, and one of them is requesting permission to land to assist their wounded bird."

"Shit."

"You still on duty?"

"Do I look insane?"