The Prodigal Sun Read Online Free

to corrupt my functions Roche rubbed her chin thoughtfully. She hadn’t considered this possibility before. The Midnight had been chosen as the vehicle to carry the Box because its route to Intelligence HQ was circuitous, not the direct route one might expect for such an important cargo. If the man in the capsule was a spy, all he had to do was ascertain that the Box was definitely aboard this ship, instead of one of the many decoy ships, and notify his superiors.
    It was barely plausible, certainly not likely.
    And it didn’t make sense, not if the capsule was older than the plans to ferry the Box to Intelligence HQ. Still, it would be an interesting point to raise when she and Klose were next at loggerheads.

    // until the vector has been isolated and the outbreak contained, all scheduled traffic in- and out-system—including that for the purpose of trade and Armada activity—is either severely restricted or canceled indefinitely. Anyone attempting to break the blockade will be in violation of the Commonwealth of Empires Security Act and liable to face the severest penalty, by order of Chief Liaison Officer for the COE Armada, Burne Absenger. Repeat: Palasian System has been declared a no-go zone as a result of a Class Three Medical Emergency //

    * * *

    The Midnight’s engines roared again, swinging its ponderous bulk around to the correct attitude for polar insertion.
    “So this is the way you spend your time, Box. Is there anything that could go wrong that you haven’t thought about?”
    
    “Such as?”
    Before it could answer, a red light flashed in the virtual screen, indicating a deviation from the mission plan. She returned her attention to the view of the planet and its attendant asteroid belt—”the Soul,” she reminded herself. The halo of moonlets had grown in size dramatically; individual motes of light now stood out against the indistinct glow of dust and pebbles. Nothing seemed immediately out of the ordinary, so she superimposed a navigation overlay across the view. Multicolored lines defined the vectors and mass of the largest rocks, while bold green angles indicated the Midnight’s orbital approach. The latter should have been clear of all obstacles larger than the frigate’s shields could handle, but it wasn’t.
    Four red circles—ships, judging by their mass and velocity—occupied the exact center of the Midnight’s path.
    “That’s strange,” Roche mused, more to herself than to her artificial companion. “The corridor should be clear by now.”
     replied the Box.
    “Any ident?”
     The Box hesitated for the briefest of moments, as though scanning data.
    “Typical.” Roche could well imagine the Midnight’ s captain fuming at the woman’s impudence. All maneuvers by the Armada were booked well in advance; there was no question that Klose was in the right. That didn’t mean, of course, that he couldn’t do the courteous thing and oblige her, but it wasn’t in his nature to deviate from the regulations one iota. Not for COE Intelligence, as