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original vessel.
    They had two days remaining in their journey, and Sid’s
anticipation began to supplant his boredom. “How’s our shadow?” A display to
his left moved to the center and enlarged, and he skimmed the information.
    The Venerable —a Horizon-class Fleet space cruiser
dispatched by the Union of Nations for Cheryl’s trade mission—fell farther
behind with every passing day. Bigger and slower, the Fleet ship would be a
week behind by the time the scout reached Mars.
    “Captain Kendrick contacted the Mars consulate to get
Cheryl’s schedule,” replied Criss. “I’ve modified the record so it appears as
if she is on a private tour of a mining complex east of the colony.”
    Good work, Kendrick. Sid stared at the projected
image of the Venerable but was too deep in thought to focus on it.
    Kendrick’s orders were to travel to the colony, wait for a
VIP, and when she was ready, escort her back to Earth. The captain knew little
of trade missions or corrupted intelligence data. Such details weren’t
necessary for him to complete his assignment.
    He also didn’t know that the scout was traveling out in
front of him.
    Invisible to everyone and everything, the scout employed
Criss’s private cloaking technology. The concealment it provided was so
complete—bordering on magic from Sid’s perspective—that Mars patrol and Fleet
Command were also unaware of the scout’s existence.
    So in Kendrick’s mind, if he was traveling this great
distance to meet Cheryl, then she must already be on the planet. And he
knows to locate his assignment prior to his arrival. Sid nodded his
approval. Kendrick’s diligence forced Criss into a charade.
    Criss swirled his coffee and took a sip. “She’s being
escorted on this phantom tour by industrialist Shi Chen. Chen is anxious to
maintain a liberal business climate on Mars so he can continue making obscene
profits. And he’s loyal to the Union when it serves his needs.”
    “How did you get his cooperation?” asked Sid.
    “He discovered evidence showing that Ruga planned to
redirect valuable material produced by the mine away from commercial sale so it
could be used for private colony projects. Chen would see huge profits
evaporate—profits he’s already spent—if that were to happen. He will help us
because he wants to help himself.”
    “Was any of the evidence real?”
    Criss’s cheeks lifted in a half smile. “Some.”
    Sid swiped at the ops bench and an image of Mars—a vibrant
rust-colored ball floating in the stark blackness of space—rose in front of
him. Letting his mind drift, he tinkered with the outlines of a plan.
    His instinct was to have Juice join Alex on a tour of the
colony’s crystal production facilities. How Alex conducted that tour—if he was
forthcoming or deceptive, for example—would inform them of his intentions.
Juice knew Alex at a deep, personal level. She’ll know if he’s lying.
    Sid didn’t like having Juice involved in field operations. A
scientist by profession and gentle soul by nature, she didn’t have the training
or temperament for situations that might devolve into threats or violence. But
she had more knowledge and experience with AI technology than anyone on either
world. And with Alex at the heart of the mystery, she wasn’t about to ask
permission to be involved, anyway. Criss will be tracking her every move ,
thought Sid, taking solace in knowing that no person or group could outwit the crystal.
    Cheryl stepped into a defined role—that of Union trade
envoy. A trade envoy with a Fleet space cruiser at her disposal. Diplomats of a sort, envoys met and socialized with business and community
leaders. She’d have many natural opportunities to ask pointed questions, and
with luck, she’d gain an insider’s perspective on the intrigue.
    He thought about asking her if she would wear flashy clothes
to draw attention. When it came to the art of misdirection, “watch the pretty
lady” remained a tried and true