Venus Time: 09:14, March 25, 2295

  Camp Yusuf, Sulfur Valley, Northern Venus

  Sigrun laid Baldr on the cot and stepped back like she was leaving a child at school.

  For three days since they'd arrived on this planet, the Psytum Sword had sat dormant against the military-issue blanket, its crystalline edge catching the amber light that filtered through the yurt's canvas walls. Ivar's sword. Ivar's last gift. "You're not coming with me today."

  She'd rather not leave it behind. But Dilinur's logic was sound. Baldr was a Psytum Sword, registered Nordic manufacture. Walking into an Imperium fortress city carrying a registered Nordic weapon would be handing strangers an excuse to detain her.

  Járn would go instead. The Thermal Axe was Imperium-made, which gave it a thin veneer of acceptability, and it was the weapon she'd be expected to carry openly.

  She unhooked the axe from its mount on the yurt's weapon rack, feeling its heft settle into her grip. Damascus steel rippled along the dormant blade. Good weapon.

  "Stay safe," she said to Baldr, then buckled Járn to her belt.

  The hanfu she now wore was Dilinur's idea too. A spare from the Prefect's own wardrobe, cobalt blue silk with rose-pink embroidery tracing floral patterns across the bodice and sleeves, a gold sash cinched at the waist with a polished lapis clasp. "Friendly," Dilinur had called it. "Assimilated. You will look like someone who respects Imperial culture."

  Sigrun looked like someone stuffed into her younger sister's dress.

  The high collar pressed against her throat. The bodice, cut for Dilinur's slimmer frame, pulled across her chest in a way that turned the silk into a second skin over her D cup breasts, every contour on display.

  She tugged the collar, trying to find a quarter-centimeter of breathing room. Dilinur wore this comfortably. Dilinur was also two cup sizes smaller.

  "Men would stare…" she said to herself. She knew exactly what she looked like in this clothing. Eleven years of selling that image had taught her the arithmetic of male attention. She pushed through the yurt's flap into Venus's amber morning and caught Marcus averting his eyes when she'd stepped out of the yurt.

  Nearby, Jabari hadn't bothered averting his. "Like your new outfit?"

  "At least it's pretty," she told him, pulling her blonde hair into a high knot.

  "Hey. Pretty people survive longer in the Seven Realms," he quipped, walking next to her.

  Camp Yusuf spread across the valley floor. Prefab shelters, supply crates, the Polaris squatting at the far end with its white-blue hull streaked by atmospheric corrosion from the landing. The air carried a faint rotten-egg tang. Venus's cloud cover filtered the sun into permanent amber twilight, painting everything in shades of burnt gold.

  Sigrun crossed the camp toward the Genbu, the black-gold custom-made tank on the other side, nodding at Vanguard marines doing equipment checks and a pair of Constables arguing over ration distribution.

  "Encampment is functional, barely. The Zephyrium deposits here are minor, the defensive perimeter thin, but — we knew this was temporary." Thomas was speaking to Dilinur when Sigrun passed them by.

  The Genbu sat idling near the camp's western edge, black armor plating catching the amber glow, gold trim tracing its edges. The armored transport's engine hummed low as Sigrun approached it, muttering. "H?kon's Big Turtle."

  She found the others already boarding.

  Marcus ducked through the rear hatch, and Sigrun almost didn't recognize him. The Bulwark was absent, the heavy plate armor gone. In their place: a white linen shirt open at the collar, a fitted brown leather vest with brass buttons, dark trousers, and boots polished to a shine she'd never seen on the man before. His Zephyrium Sword Justice hung at his hip. A small silver cross sat against his exposed collarbone. He looked like a gentleman rancher who'd wandered into a war zone.

  Jabari climbed in after him, and he'd gone the opposite direction from Marcus. Dark wool cloak with gold-etched trim. A thick olive scarf wrapped loose around his neck and draped over one shoulder. His Kinetic Crossbow Oya hung from a strap across his back. He looked every bit the Griot.

  He hadn't said much since last night, however. She'd noticed. She hadn't pressed.

  Xin was already inside, seated on the left bench with H?kon perched on his shoulder. The little Diabolisk's scales shifted through lazy, contented silver-blues. Xin was in an olive button-up shirt tucked into matching trousers, a utility belt riding low on his narrow hips. The belt's empty holster was the only sign that something was missing. His black-rimmed glasses sat slightly crooked. Put him behind a desk and he'd pass for mid-level office staff anywhere.

  "Sky Lady!" H?kon chirped as she climbed in. "Big city today! Many-many people?"

  "Many-many people," she confirmed, settling onto the bench across from Xin. "You stay close to Pappa, okay? No running off."

  "HAW-koon always close to Pappa!" His little chest puffed up.

  Thomas Mendoza leaned against the bulkhead near the rear hatch, bionic arms folded, his Alliance-issue uniform crisp. He caught Sigrun's eye and gave a small nod.

  Dilinur Altai boarded last. The Prefect of Xing Hong wore her customary black silk robe with crimson accents, her raven hair in that signature traditional updo held by ruby pins. Her eyes swept the interior before she pressed the intercom mounted near the cockpit partition.

  "Haylen. We're loaded."

  "Copy, Prefect." Haylen Shih's clipped British accent came through. "Closing hatches. Route to Jin Syue plotted, forty-three minutes on current terrain. Everyone hold something."

  The hatches sealed with a hydraulic hiss. The Genbu lurched forward, tracks biting into the sulfurous soil, and Camp Yusuf began shrinking through the rear viewport.

  Dilinur waited a few seconds before she spoke. "Attention, Associates."

  The Genbu's cockpit was cramped with Haylen at the controls, but Dilinur made it work. She stood braced against the partition wall while Sigrun, Xin, Marcus, and Jabari crowded in around her.

  "What I say here does not leave this vehicle." Dilinur's voice was low. "We are approaching Jin Syue under legitimate diplomatic pretense. Zephyrium trade access, intelligence sharing regarding Fenris Horde activity on Venus, establishing potential neutral commerce waypoints on Mars near Imperium territories. All convincingly real objectives. All worth pursuing."

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  She paused. H?kon made a curious trill from his perch on a rail above Xin's head, watching everything with sapphire eyes.

  "But I do not trust Imperium hospitality to answer our actual questions."

  Marcus shifted his weight, the Genbu's rocking making his frame sway. "So there's a second play."

  "Iron Roach entered Jin Syue two days ago," Dilinur said. "Under a false identity. Contracted maintenance worker, one of dozens cycling through the Citadel's plumbing and ventilation systems. Pipe fitter. He carries a sealed toolbox."

  Sigrun leaned forward. "And in the box?"

  "Skuld. Jade." Dilinur met her eyes. "Your Breacher Shotgun in folded brick form. Xin's 10mm Magnum. Both non-psionic. Both untraceable to the weapons we'll surrender at the gate."

  Xin adjusted his glasses. "So we surrender the obvious weapons. Look cooperative."

  "Precisely. Sigrun surrenders the axe Járn. Jabari, the crossbow Oya. Marcus, the sword Justice. These are the weapons they expect. It gives us credibility." Dilinur folded her arms. "Xin with nothing. Just a civilian consultant. Nobody worth searching."

  Jabari leaned against the cockpit wall, arms crossed. "And the Alliance guy?"

  He tilted his head toward the main compartment where Thomas sat.

  "Thomas stays on the Genbu." Dilinur's tone left no room for negotiation. "An Alliance presence inside the Citadel would end this negotiation before it begins. The Imperium already disapproves of Xing Hong's new relationship with the Alliance. We do not need to remind them of it."

  Thomas glanced toward the cockpit partition. "Diego will be your remote support. He's running the Polaris's communication arrays as an encrypted relay from Camp Yusuf."

  "Iron Roach carries a low-band transmitter disguised as a maintenance scanner, something I rigged before departure." Xin chimed in. "Bounces to the Polaris, Diego decrypts and relays to our Nucleus Watches on a secondary channel. Short-range, so the Jin Syue's security sweeps won't catch it. Hopefully."

  "Roach has been mapping routines, guard rotations, service corridors inside," Dilinur continued. "Yesterday's report confirms intelligence on Meiya Ji and Ume exists within a restricted section of the Citadel. The Imperium calls it the Tianshu Terminal. Their central archive."

  Sigrun frowned. "How do we get in?"

  "That is the challenge. The Tianshu Terminal is deep in the eastern compound. A maintenance access, connected to the plumbing systems beneath the women's restroom, is the only passage that bypasses security checkpoints."

  Jabari let out a low whistle. "The ladies' room."

  "I didn't choose the architecture," Dilinur said flatly.

  Marcus rubbed his jaw. "So we play nice at the front door while someone sneaks through the back?"

  "When the moment is right." Dilinur held up a finger. "We will be watched from the moment we step through those gates. The diplomatic reception must feel real. If they offer extended hospitality, we accept. We buy Xin a window."

  "And if they don't?" Sigrun asked.

  "Then we leave with whatever intelligence the diplomatic meeting provides and regroup. The weapons stay cached inside for a future attempt. Either way, we gain ground."

  The Genbu rumbled over a ridge, the suspension groaning. Through the cockpit viewport, something appeared on the horizon. A sprawling mass of light and structure against Venus's amber sky. Towers, walls, the gleam of metal rooflines catching the diffused sun. Temple spires rising beside industrial chimneys. A city that had been old before the Imperium claimed it and would probably outlast them.

  Jin Syue.

  "Joon-Seok Pak, the city's ruler, is a Lord Conjurer, and a warmonger who participated in the Purge of Seoul." Dilinur said, her eyes fixed on the approaching city. "He is intelligent, cultured, and dangerous. He will probe our intentions. He will be charming."

  Her gaze moved to Sigrun.

  "He will notice you."

  Sigrun said nothing. She was used to being noticed by powerful men. The trick had never been avoiding their attention. It was controlling what they did with it.

  Haylen parked the Genbu in a designated diplomatic bay outside the main gate, a flat stretch of reinforced stone wide enough for three vehicles abreast. The bay was already occupied by an Imperium convoy, sleek armored carriers in black and crimson livery, golden dragon crests polished.

  The Genbu looked like a street brawler at a dinner party.

  "Comms are live," Haylen reported from the driver's seat. "Diego confirms relay is active. Roach's last ping was fourteen minutes ago, stable signal."

  "Good." Dilinur turned to the main compartment. "Thomas and Haylen will stay guard here."

  Thomas Mendoza stood slowly, his bionic arms catching the interior light. His jaw was tight, but he nodded. "You watch your six in there."

  "Always do." Sigrun met his gaze and held it for a second before looking away.

  The rear hatch opened. Venus hit Sigrun like a wall. The air was thick and hot. Her body adjusted, muscles compensating, lungs working harder. Eleven years of Martian low-pressure living meant Venus felt like breathing through wet cloth at times.

  Jin Syue's main gate rose before them. Massive. The wall stretched thirty meters high, obsidian stone faced with metal plating that had been etched with patterns so intricate they might have been calligraphy or circuitry or both.

  Guard towers flanked the gate. Sigrun counted the soldiers the way she counted Bone Fiends back on the Karma Moor: by threat level.

  The men came first.

  "Rust Crows, the Imperium's rank-and-file infantry, named for the black bird stitched on their pauldrons." Dilinur explained as they approached.

  Sigrun had seen the insignia before on Imperial patrols that occasionally swaggered through Dragon District back on Mars, but never in these numbers. Dozens of them manned the gate and the towers above, broad-shouldered figures in crimson longcoats over dark plated armor. Almost every one of them held a Kinetic Crossbow, ebony-black and heavy, bolts loaded, bowstrings taut. Not slung. Not holstered. Held.

  "Ready to punch through the Genbu's armor plating if the order came?" Jabari commented in a low voice.

  "They'd regret trying." Sigrun gritted her teeth.

  Then, alongside the Rust Crows, the women.

  "Blood Swallows. They usually patrol in pairs along the wall's upper walkway. Medium grade Radi-Humans. Synthetic, technically." Dilinur said.

  Sigrun looked at them without saying anything. Light crimson-and-navy armor fitted close to these women's bodies, twin daggers sheathed at the hip. They moved too precisely for women who looked barely twenty. But that wasn't what made Sigrun's skin prickle.

  Their faces. High cheekbones, dark hair swept into identical buns, full lips pressed into the same neutral line. Beautiful. Every single one of them, beautiful, the way paintings in a gallery were beautiful: composed, refined, and repeated. The same elegant bone structure copied across face after face after face, like someone had found the perfect template and stamped it into flesh.

  Sigrun looked from one pair to the next. Sisters didn't look this alike. Twins didn't look this alike.

  "What kind of freak would make these?" She said behind her teeth and kept walking.

  Next to Sigrun, Xin counted them. "Nearly three dozen Rust Crows visible. About thirty Blood Swallow pairs. Three heavy weapons emplacements over there."

  "And that was just the gate." Marcus remarked.

  Sigrun's shoulders dropped. "This army could eat Camp Yusuf for breakfast and still have room for dessert."

  A Rust Crow officer met them at the gate's threshold, flanked by four other soldiers. He was young, clean-shaven. His eyes swept the party, lingered on Marcus's sword, on Jabari's crossbow, then on Sigrun herself.

  "Welcome to Jin Syue." His English was accented but functional. "Prince Joon-Seok Pak extends his hospitality. We are honored."

  "The honor is ours," Dilinur replied, matching his formality.

  "Standard protocol requires all weapons to be surrendered at this checkpoint. They will be stored in the Citadel armory under full security and returned upon your departure." His gaze went to the Thermal Axe on Sigrun's belt. "No exceptions."

  Sigrun's fingers found Járn's handle. She held it for a beat, then unbuckled the harness and passed the axe to the waiting soldier. The Damascus steel caught Venus's amber light one last time before it vanished into a padded transit case.

  "That's one weapon I've left behind today—two if you count my dignity!" Jabari handed over his Kinetic Crossbow next, offering it with both hands and a small, theatrical bow. "Take good care of Oya, hey? She's sensitive."

  The Rust Crow officer's flat stare didn't change.

  "Humor's not standard Imperium protocol, then?" Jabari grinned as he took a step back.

  Marcus removed his sword. He set it down with slow precision like a man placing offerings at an altar, hand lingering on the grip of Justice before he released it. His eyes stayed on the weapons as the soldiers secured them. "They'll be returned?"

  "Undamaged and accounted for." The officer produced a receipt chit, scanned via a Nucleus Watch on his wrist. "Your reference number."

  Xin stood at the edge of the group with H?kon on his shoulder, one hand in his pocket, the other pushing up his glasses. The officer's gaze passed over him like water over glass.

  "No weapons, sir?"

  "Nope." Xin shook his head. "I'm, uh, just the tech consultant."

  The officer waved him through without a second look.

  They were escorted through the gate, and Jin Syue swallowed them.