The shipyard Elizabeth led them to wasn't particularly large – a quarter of a square kilometre, perhaps. It was dusty. It was sandy. It was hot. It had a small concrete shack built just to the entrance. And there was a large shuttle resting in the very centre, metal internals strewn across the ground underneath it.

"Daddy?" Elizabeth called. "Are you there?"

A bang came from the shuttle's bowels. "Elizabeth? Is that you?!"

"Daddy!"

She dropped Aisling's hand and sprinted toward the shuttle and only just managed to dodge a tall red-haired man falling out of the cargo hold.

"Elizabeth! You're okay!"

He scooped her into his arms, squeezed her tight to his chest.

"Daddy,.. you don't need to squeeze so hard..."

He put her down on the ground, patted her head. "Sorry. I'm just glad you're okay." He wiped a tear from the corner of his eye.

"Daddy, this is Aisling."

The man turned to see Aisling walking slowly toward him.

"Who are you? Did you help bring Eliza back?"

"She fighted the bad guys," explained Elizabeth. "Her and the boy."

"I'm Aisling," Aisling introduced herself. "Pleased to meet you."

The man bowed low.

"I will forever be grateful, Ms. Aisling. If there is anything I can do for you – oh, hold on. Julie!"

"Hold on, I'm on the phone!" came a yell from the shack. "I think I've got a lead!"

"You don't need to look any longer, Elizabeth's here!"

"EH?!"

A tall woman sprinted out of the shack. "Who found her?!"

"This girl here." Elizabeth's father turned to Aisling. "Look, if there's anything I can do..."

"Well, actually..." She paused for a moment, Laughed. "We need a jump shuttle that can carry everyone here. And then another jump shuttle to carry, say – what, 20 cryo pods?"

"Seems about right," confirmed Nathan, walking up behind her. "We just don't have the parts and were hoping we could purchase such a shuttle."

Samel's eyes widened. "Marvellous! I have other orders, but I'll push you guys to the top of the list. But I hope you understand you're paying. We're not exactly loaded."

Jaggerjack stepped forward, Longbow DMR concealed under his uniform. "We understand, Mr. Samel. We're prepared to cover the costs."

Samel smiled. "Well, as luck would have it, I have three small jump shuttles. Stick the cryo pods in one and the rest of you in the other two; you'd have more than enough space."

"Fantastic. I'm Jack, by the way." He shook Samel's hand. "When can we have the shuttles by?"

"It'll take a few days to get them ready; the chassis are fresh out of the box. I'll have to install the engines, fuel them up and install an AI aboard the computers."

"If Aisling, Nathan and Philip helped you, could you get them done quicker?"

Samel frowned. "Well, yes, but it depends on how good they are with a spanner."

Jaggerjack smiled. "Engineers fresh from the Yuma system. They're not half bad with mechanical stuff."

"Very well then." Samel grinned at the three. "I'll be taking on three apprentices, then! Lets see if we can't get this done in a day."

"Uhh..." mumbled Philip, "I'm a physicist, not a mechan-"

"Relax!" Jaggerjack thumped him on the back. "You'll do just fine."

"Okay-"

Samel turned back to Jaggerjack. "Well, we're going to need fuel and an AI core. Speaking of fuel; what are you going to be using these things for? Cos I could-"

"System jumpers. We're looking to jump fast and dirty. Oh yeah, speaking of which, one of the shuttles doesn't need to have a jump drive. We've already got one with us."

"Okay then. Well, for system jumping, you'd be looking at either MPD thrusters or chemical rockets – I'm thinking a hybrid or a bi-propellant -"

"We'll take the chemical hybrid, please," said Aisling.

"Got some experience with them, have you?" asked Samel.

"Yeah, we used to put them together back at home."

"Very well then, hybrid it is. Jack, if you or one of your friends could go out to the market and get some fuel, oxidizer and an AI core for me, that would be fantastic."

"Sir. There were twelve carbines purchased within the designated period of time. We have located the shopkeeper who sold a carbine to the most suspicious-looking customer."

"Bring the shopkeeper to the Senate building. I'll be there in a moment."

The man with the radio swept rich red and gold robes onto his back, rose from his chair, and left the building.

"How about there?" asked Eoin Ireton, pointing towards a store-front that had a sign reading 'Venice & related systems intelligence services', a few hundred metres away. "Look – 'Voted best merchant intelligence service, 3 Venice-years in a row. Low prices, quality intelligence, no questions asked. Sounds exactly what we're looking for. Over."

"Copy, Ireton," said Misha from a nearby rooftop, blending in with a chimney pipe, hiding from the blazing sun in it's small shadow. "Your call, I can't see it from here. Over."

"We'll do it, Over."

"Very vell. Movingk to a pozition to cover you. Out."

Team A was on the hunt for information regarding militia movements over the past three months. So far all of the other information agencies had only been able to supply stock prices and such; archives of the movements of the Militia were apparently hard to come by.

Now Ireton, Baxter and Street were approaching the entrance to one such agency, the rest of Team A scattered through the rest of the CBD looking for digital news archives, infonet cafés – anything they could find to give them extra information on enemy movements. Misha found herself scattered amongst them, ready to provide cover whenever one of the soldiers was about to enter a building.

The procedure of having Misha move about to ensure she could provide covering fire in an emergency was both tedious and necessary. Tedious, because the sun beat down so hard one could almost feel it exerting a force, and necessary, because they were soldiers deep in enemy territory.

Specifically, the CBD. Not far from Alpha's spaceport, the CBD was comprised of small, low buildings made of clay and mortar salvaged from the ground and tall behemoths of steel rising high into the thin sky.

Misha engaged her cloaking device and broke into a sprint along the roof of one such low building, felt the heat from the cloaking device begin roasting her alive. She leaped from the roof of her current building, pulsed her jump-kit's engines, tucked into a roll and disengaged her cloaking device the moment she stopped. Brought her pistol to her eye, ready to fire on any hostiles.

"I'm in pozition. Out."

Ireton, Baxter and Street strode into the building.

"Desk, 12 o'clock," muttered Ireton under his breath. "Secretary."

"Good afternoon!" smiled the secretary. "How can we help you?"

"We're merchants from New Tokyo," replied Baxter. "We had some trouble getting here, and we're a bit out of the loop. We're looking for all the news of the last... I dunno, three months?" She looked to Ireton as if she wasn't sure of the exact time.

"Yeah, around about that."

"Well, you've come to the right place!" said the Secretary, and Baxter could see that she was good at smiling. "We're one of the few companies on Venice 3 that makes long term generic archives. Take a look at the sign on the wall, there." She motioned to a poster, indicating how their service worked and how much it would cost. "We let you access our archives and make as many copies as you like. We charge two hundred credits per gigabyte of our information you leave here with. Will that be okay?"

"You've got news articles? And current events?"

"Absolutely, Sir!" the secretary sang.

"Then that will be just fine with us."

"Captain, we're receiving an incoming transmission from team A. It looks like some news articles, Ma'am."

Soryuu frowned for a moment. "Overwatch, analyse the information that we're receiving and mark the most important points for us. Display the information on the main monitor.

Okay everyone, listen up. Team A just confirmed, Demeter was destroyed by a Militia attack. Aaaand – oh, that's very interesting. Roberts, you should take a look at this."

"They completed development of the Spectre mechanical infantry units? Wow. And they've been fighting with those instead?"

"Indeed. Looks like we might have half a cha- oh. Shit."

"The Militia has been destroying Spectre production facilities. If one more falls, the IMC forces here won't be able to produce a sustainable amount of Spectres."

"They're hiding out on Outpost 207 – wow, good guess, Tactician Johnson."

The man smiled. "I try."

"Nevertheless, we need to get to Outpost 207 as soon as possible, with the biggest army we can."

"Captain?" said Stone. "Team D just found some shuttles. They'll have the first one ready in a day."

Venice 3 was governed by the Venice Senate, an assembly of twelve politicians who argued for and against various motions regarding the planet. They met in the Senate building, a glorious pillar of shining steel rising high into the air.

Beneath the Senate building, unbeknownst to the other 11 senators, a shopkeeper sobbed.

"Please! I don't know anything, I swear!"

The man with the radio sighed, shook his head. "But," he said, biting the end of his finger out of habit and then pointing it at the man in shackles, "I need to know who he was." He frowned, stood up, folded his arms. "Speaking of which, do you know who I am?"

"N-no..?"

The man with the radio closed his eyes in mock sadness. "Are you serious? I do so much work for this planet and nobody has the decency to know who I am?

He leaned in close to the man in shackles, one foot on the dusty ground, one foot on his chair. "I'm Styx Menelaus," he smiled, "fourth seat of the senate."

"The senate? Then, you're -"

"Shhh," whispered Menelaus. "Yes, you're right. I'm the one who's trying to save us from the IMC scum."

The shopkeeper blinked.

"But they're not even that bad. They're all locked up in that outpost -"

"No, no, no. That won't do," muttered Menelaus. "The IMC are not to be trusted. We must eradicate them. Don't you agree?"

"Well -"

Menelaus sighed. "Wrong answer. Jason, whip him some more."

"Yes, Sir," said a tall, muscular man with an enormous reel of red-stained leather.

"No, ple- AUUUGHHHAAAAAAAAAA!"

Menelaus rolled his eyes. "That's enough, Jason. Look, shopkeep, all I want is for you to tell me anything you can about the man you sold that carbine to."

"Is, he IMC?" the shopkeeper asked between gasps and groans of pain.

"Yes. No. We're not sure." Menelaus turned around. "But that ship that jumped in sent a trading team to one of my agents and somehow got outside information. That's suspicious in itself." He whiled around. "SO START REMEMBERING THINGS! Details, ANYTHING THAT COULD HELP US FIND THAT MAN!"

"I've told you everything I know! Black hair, brown eyes, black cloak, large purse of cash!"

"And I don't know anything!" the shopkeeper cried. "Please, believe me. I would have told you by now. Just... give me some truth serum. Ask me whatever you want! I just want to go home!"

Menelaus groaned. "But the truth serum is no fun," he whined. "Alright, Jason-

At this point, Menelaus' personal communicator began beeping.

"Hold on, I've got a call. Shut up everyone. Hello?"

"Sir..."

"Oh, for fuck's sake. Did you idiots get arrested again?"

"Yes..."

"What were you doing? I asked you to collect some debts, not make my job any harder."

"Well... this couple wouldn't pay up, so we took their daughter as compensation. And then she was struggling, and -"

"Did you hit the bitch in public?"

"Yes, Sir."

"Honestly." Menelaus rolled his eyes. "Fine. Put me over to the police chief."

He heard chatter on the other end of the comms line.

"Yeah, this is Styx Menelaus," Menelaus said lazily. "These two men were acting under my jurisdiction, blah blah blah. Let them go, will ya?

What?

Look, either you let them go now and you get the resource consent you've been wanting, or you make me come down there in person, you still have to let them go, and you lose your job... and your son's application for schooling is rejected. Happy?

That's what I thought. All hail the Militia, keep up the good work." Menelaus ended the call. Grinned at the shopkeeper who withered like a flower trying to grow under Solvenices' blaze.

"Now, where were we?"

"Hmm," murmured Soryuu from the bunk in the bridgewomans' quarters, reading through the information that Team A had purchased.

"What?" yawned a communications technician.

"A lot has changed in three months. Demeter was destroyed almost exactly three months ago – so, pretty much exactly when we left Brink. Oh – wow, the frontier IMC finished their Spyglass AI, which is now the Vice Admiral of their fleet. Did Marcus get promoted Admira -" She stopped, confused.

Surely her eyes weren't working, surely the information was false.

All she could say was, "Oh."