Cole sat in her makeshift office, head in her hands. Daisu would call it a human gesture except he wasn't talking to her right now. He was off in the petrified arboretum 'having a think'. She couldn't blame him; she didn't know what to think herself.

Engineered viruses were once used as weapons for tactical strikes. Their purpose was to eradicate threats to the Fey. That this ship was victim to one went against the entire history of Fey and Human interaction. Even when the Fey visited the original Earth during its primitive stages of development they never considered humans a threat. Often, Fey grew infatuated with individuals of the species, stealing them away. Humans didn't realize how far back their species interbred.

Cole pursed her lips. No, the Fey did find them dangerous at some point, didn't they, dangerous enough to abandon them during their Dark Ages. Humans scraped along without them, eventually reaching space on their own. She wondered what drove her ancestors away.

How did this virus end up on the ship? Why wasn't the incident recorded? There was her answer. There had to be a record. The Fey governing council would not let something this big slip their notice. If the virus was accidentally unleashed on these people, the government database would have a notation, or the fleet's data logs, the military kept tabs on everything. She jumped to her feet, heading for the Era'na at a run. They couldn't upload their exploratory vessel's data logs into the Per Pacem's ancient system, so they stored the ship in the supply hold for easy access.

Cole skidded to a stop at the ship's port side entrance. It was open. Inside she found Daisu scanning through the logs. Of course his military trained mind would follow the same line of thought. He leaned over the console, hands folded under his chin, not acknowledging her presence. She came up behind him, placing her fingertips on his shoulder. Tension radiated off him.

"There is no mention of the Per Pacem in any of the Fleet's logs, no record of its existence anywhere in our database, Cole. How did you find out about it?"

She paused. It shouldn't surprise her the ship was lost to their database after the Purge, but no mention in the Fleet's extensive records was unsettling.

"At the Cypress university data library." In the heart of New Earth Six's Alexandria, a human center of learning.

Daisu inhaled through his teeth. "Do your political patrons know what you are looking for out here?"

"Technically, no." Cole glanced at the logs and blanched. "You hacked into a classified sector? Didn't know you had it in you."

"Cole, look at the order," he said. Dread threaded her nerves. Daisu was never serious unless they were facing trouble. She read the logs.

"By the Veil, "she breathed. Betrayal balled in her gut, poisoning her numb. "They can't do this."

In the classified logs was a government bounty for the Era'na, a retrieval order for the vessel, alone. The hefty reward attached wasn't for the ship, but for elimination of its crew, sanctioned by her people.

"Cole, where can we go?" Daisu's calm voice cut through the turmoil of her thoughts.

"We can't let them do this, hide something like this." Anger burned away the numbness. How dare they? Cole'th Hirskirt brought them more treasure and discovery in the two centuries she worked at the university than Fey six times her age. She was an exploratory scientist, and her own government put a hit on her like some political scandal to sweep away?

"Cole, answer me."

"Mal'th," she said, her jaw set. Daisu's brows knit together.

"The atmosphere is polarized; it might bring the ship down."

"Our answers will be there, and the atmosphere will hide us from any mercenaries."

Her friend nodded with a smirk on his lips. "You really would make an excellent tactician. Let's get this junk bucket moving. Pray to your ancestors we don't crash into the planet."

Cole rolled her eyes. So dramatic, Daisu would never allow this ship to crash. Their destination still sent a thrill through her. Mal'th was the planet's Fey given name. The humans called it New Earth Three.

"Senator Kadmos seeks to monopolize Eretria's trimica mines. His slaves have brutalized those of rival households, crippling them until he is able to buy out shares from masters who can no longer provide a workforce. This will give him enough monetary resources to launch a seizure of Patrician Talaos's assets." Macbeth kept her eyes trained on Nero's face as she gave the evening's report.

The dinner guests of the night were numerous. Her master was testing her again. He enjoyed testing her like this often, hanging the threat of more beatings over her head. She wasn't keen on another session in that sweltering torture cell but she refused to give him the satisfaction, not the slightest twitch at the mention of the whip.

Every time she failed to react, his expression turned thoughtful. Calliope stared at her, the emotion in her violet eyes difficult to decipher. It reminded Macbeth how her father looked at her when she handled her squabbling brothers. She didn't understand the female Pathosian. She made a habit of studying their expressions through her nightly reports, assessing their current moods, and avoiding eye contact with Nero's Erosia.

Lulubelle was a constant presence, usually perched in their master's lap while he fondled her breasts, her gaze downcast. Macbeth wondered if this was another test. It didn't matter, her reports were detailed, precise, and gave Nero everything he wanted to know. Julius groomed her into a perfect spy. Secretly, she enjoyed the challenge of collecting so much information, threading together its significance against the complex Pathosian political structure. Her skill at concealing her emotions was now a finely honed wall. The dinner guests flirted and teased her, dismissing her as a dumb mute and she listened to their gossip, their banter, and their secrets.

Nero sighed, the mix of satisfaction and disappointment left him bored. "You're dismissed," he said, with a flick of his fingers.

Macbeth returned to her duties in the kitchens. Julius eyed her as she settled in next to him, washing grains for the next day.

"Escaped the lash again?" He murmured for her ears only.

"He couldn't seem to find a reason today." Macbeth dipped her hands into the bucket, sifting the grains through her fingers. The work was relaxing after concentrating so hard through the dinner service.

Her tutor hmfphed. "I don't think he knows what to make of you. He forbid me from teaching the other slaves to conceal their emotions. As if any have the talent." Julius huffed. "He's concentrating so hard on you he forgets to dole out punishments. "

Macbeth wasn't sure how she felt about that. Diverting his attention from violence against her fellow slaves was all well and good, but for how long could she withstand such scrutiny?

Anthony limped into the kitchen. The slaves went silent, their eyes following the parbreed's progress through the room. Except Macbeth, she didn't look at him at all. No one else knew what happened to turn their master so viciously on the half Fey, but the session left the man permanently hobbled. She knew the whispers that went into Nero's ear. She almost felt sorry for Anthony, almost.

The slaves finished their chores within the hour, dragging themselves off to bed. Macbeth waited until they were gone, even the lingering Julius, before she rose. Padding through the empty dining area, she headed into the gardens towards a disused storeroom off the side of the house.

She undid the latch, sliding into the dark room. Macbeth barely shut the door before hands seized her, spinning her around and pushing her against the wall. Silken arms wrapped around her shoulders, enfolding her in the scents of honey and sunlight, as soft lips pressed against hers. Macbeth tangled her fingers in dark curls, lapping at the seam of those enticing lips. Lulubelle sighed into her mouth, grinding a thigh between her legs. The friction added to the heat of their bodies pressed together until Macbeth thought she would burst into flame.

Lulubelle broke away for a breath, sliding against Macbeth with a purr. "You took longer than usual."

"I'm here now." Macbeth ran her fingers along the curve of her lover's face, each touch, each gesture a candid display of her affection. She would never hide her emotions here. "Was it so hard to wait for me?" She teased, slipping a hand between Lulubelle's legs, loving the hiss that escaped from Lulubelle's mouth. Her fingers played as her love panted in her ear. The Erosia belonged to Nero through the day, but at night, Lulubelle was hers.

"Trick is exaggerating my emotions; you rely too much on that talent so it's easy to make you think I'm a silly soft female." Daphne slurred, taking another swig of the horse piss this establishment had the nerve to call beer. She missed her father's moonshine. It only took a glass to send anyone afloat. Her brother used it to de-grease engines. She was on her fifth mug of this swill before her tongue went fuzzy.

Her Pathosian drinking companion laughed. It was a nice throaty sound. She liked a man who had a good laugh. Balthar chuckled at her over his mug. He was the one who stuck around while Cass went off to conduct other business. Poor, serious Cass, he missed all the fun.

Titus leered at her. "My dear girl, you are a soft, silly female."

"Damn right," she said with a wink. The red skinned merchant propositioned her twice since the drinking began. That sort of flattery could make a girl blush. Titus had a nice build, his muscles were delicious but the horns and fangs motif didn't do it for her. Balthar wasn't a shabby specimen either but his reddened cheeks told her the poor lad couldn't hold his drink. It wasn't a great loss, she felt too sisterly towards him to take him to bed. Though, if she downed another few servings of this bile, she'd bunk with a Barlok for the night.

She slammed her mug down. "Gentlemen, I'm done." She grabbed Titus's chin, lifting his bemused face to hers. "I would like to peruse the ship, sir." Daphne held his gaze, letting him read her emotions.

"As disappointing as that is, you are a fascinating lady, Miss Daphne." Titus took her fingers, brushing his lips against them. "I don't think I've been so thoroughly entertained in a long time."

"Not with your clothes on anyway?" She waggled her eyebrows at him, earning another laugh. Someday, she'd settle down with a man who could laugh like that. It would be something to look forward to after she rescued her brother.

Titus took her arm, exclaiming how steady she was on her feet. Ah men, none of them thought a woman could drink them under the table. Balthar staggered after them, and he only had three drinks. Daphne hooked her other arm through his, steering him from the pub.

The three of them strolled through the thinning crowd, the market finally winding down as the night deepened. Titus led them to the port, ships of all sizes and classes dotting the landing field. Passing a few merchant frigates, they rounded a Barlok merc cruiser, revealing the ship.

Daphne walked up to her, a diminutive, sleek little number. The metal exterior was plain but sound, without a shred of fatigue. Her colors were somber, a ship built to fly under the radar.

"Care for a look inside?" The Pathosian entered a short code in the ship's port side entrance. Daphne ducked in as soon it opened.

The interior was a bit larger than the merchant brother's transport, but if the exterior was built for subtly, the inside was devoted to luxury. An array of gadgetry was built into one wall, including a cycling mist shower, the latest in food replication tech, and a full service med kit for field surgery. She could reattach a limb if she had to. A sizable bunk took up the opposite wall, wide enough to fit two people, or three in imaginative positions.

The control panel was all function, equipped with advanced navigational tech, and a detailed flight panel. It wasn't the most complicated operating system she'd seen, though it would take a bit of learning to master. She knew enough from her father's workshop how to get the ship off the ground, the rest was semantics.

The pilot's chair was a work of art, molding to the curves of her body as she slid into it. A comfort made to last the long hours between stops. No one could tell what a marvelous ship this was from the outside, it was made for her. She rose, rejoining her gentlemen companions outside.

"Does it suit your requirements, Miss Daphne?" The Pathosian asked as she slipped her arm through his.

"Titus, she's damn near perfect. What's her name?"

The merchant grinned. "That is for her captain to decide."

Daphne paused, running her fingers along the cool metal. This was more than a means to find her brother. This was her ship, it would be her freedom. After she found Miles, she could go anywhere and never see Jamestown again.

"I dub you the Red Mutineer." She patted the ship with a swell of pride. The Nisseri would never see her coming.