Roquelaire arrived back at the Rebellion with his hovercase within minutes of receiving Lilliana’s message. He was accompanied by two men with standard issue facial features and black suits.
“Is it done?” the dwarf asked.
“You want to see it?” Lilliana asked.
“Not out here!” Roquelaire said. “Your ship is under heavy surveillance… did you know that?”
“I had an inkling,” Lilliana said. “Come aboard… I’ve got it set up in the cargo hold.”
“My men will naturally be accompanying me,” Roquelaire said.
“‘Your’ men,” Lilliana said. “Right.”
She led them over to the lift which carried them up to the personnel hatch on the side of the cargo bay.
“Going up,” she said as the doors slid shut.
“Our mole in the security monitoring service told us of your amusing distraction tactic,” Roquelaire said as the lift began the almost silent trip up. “It was sort of clever, even if it did draw heat to your ship.”
Considering that it was this “heat” that prevented Roquelaire from doing the deal in the open air, where they could be put under the scope of sniper rifles, Lilliana thought the plan had been very clever indeed.
“It might have been nice to know about that mole before we started,” Lilliana said.
Roquelaire shrugged.
“You managed,” he said. “Anyway, Mr. Petrus would not have allowed this operation to compromise the position of such a well-placed ear. The mass-produced parahuman you used to pull off the switch was an ingenious touch, as well… when they eventually go back through the security feed, they won’t be able to get any better ID than a model number.”
“Obviously your mole was watching that feed,” Lilliana said. “Won’t that arouse suspicion when they do learn of the robbery?”
“Only if somebody happened to check the access logs and put the timestamps together,” Roquelaire said. “But I think everybody will have more important things on their minds at that point, don’t you?”
“Probably,” Lilliana said, as the lift locked into place with a quiet whoosh. Lilliana gestured to the door as it slid open. “Wait a moment, gentlemen,” she said to the guards. She stepped through and ushered to Roquelaire. “Women and children first.”
“Always with the jokes,” Roquelaire said.
“Just a little one,” Lilliana said.
The cargo hold was surprisingly uncramped, especially now that the crew had offloaded much of the cargo. There were more drops to be made on the next leg of their journey, but as they were heading into largely unsettled territory it wasn’t primarily a cargo run. Most of their load consisted of luxury and specialty goods rather than bulk shipments.
An impromptu display had been set up in the middle of the clear space, with the familiar figure of the Donna Stella stretched out on the side of a crate, behind a jury-rigged force screen. Regan, Galatea, and the others who’d taken part in the heist were in attendance, along with a picked crew of stevedores conspicuously armed with needle guns.
“Is that necessary?” Roquelaire asked, looking around nervously.
“It seemed like a good idea, since I don’t think our insurance policy covers priceless art treasures,” Lilliana said.
“I meant the goons,” Roquelaire said.
“You brought them,” Lilliana said. She gestured to the painting. “Anyway, are you satisfied?”
“If I hadn’t seen the footage, I wouldn’t believe it,” Roquelaire said, looking
“If I don’t see some yellow, it might as well be a fairy tale,” Lilliana said.
“Yes, right,” Roquelaire said. He activated the hover case and it turned horizontal and opened, displaying ten gleaming bars. “I’ll be keeping the case, of course.”
“Regan?” Lilliana said.
The one-eyed mechanic came scurrying forward with her multiscanner.
“Right,” she said, fiddling with the knobs and tilting the display at odd angles.
“Oh, for space’s sake, don’t pretend you know how to use that thing,” Galatea said, reaching for it.
“One hundred percent gold, like, and one hundred percent match with previous samples,” Regan said.
“Accept no substitutions,” Lilliana said. “Leo, get a dolly.”
“Do you want one that talks and wets itself?” the catman replied with a lazy air. “Or just a regular model?”
“Never mind the Cat, the Gypsy,” Regan said. “I’ll handle this meself. Handjob, get the wagon.”
“Yes, the Boss, sir,” Handy said.
When she’d dragged the wheeled conveyance over, Roquelaire pushed the hovering case a bit closer towards it. It wobbled a bit in the air, tipping a bit too far off plane and then upending itself.
“Oh, clumsy of me,” Roquelaire said, all but diving down on his hands and knees to help pick up the weighty bars and shift them onto the wagon.
“It’s alright, like,” Regan said, grabbing a bar and depositing it in the wagon. “I know how accidents happen.”
“That’s quite enough,” Lilliana said, grabbing Roquelaire by his waistcoat and hauling him up.
“Only trying to help,” Roquelaire said.
“We don’t need your kind of help,” Lilliana said. “That’s half payment. Time for the rest.”
“Not quite, I’m afraid,” Roquelaire said. “The gold is advance payment. You get the rest when the Donna Stella is once again in Mr. Petrus’s hands. Otherwise, he has no guarantee you’ll return it.”
“I’m not carrying a hot painting on promises and the untested theory that we’ll be given a diplomatic pass,” Lilliana said. “In case you haven’t noticed, you’re outnumbered and outgunned… that means you’re not calling the shots.
“Unfortunately, neither are you,” Roquelaire protested, holding up his hands. “I don’t have the power to transfer the money myself, and I’d hardly be worth that much as leverage.”
“I don’t doubt you on either count,” Lilliana said. “Well, shit. Our personal business is done, then. You may kindly get the fuck off my ship.”
“‘Your’ ship,” Roquelaire said, smoothing out his ruffled clothes. He seemed to take great pleasure in seeing Lilliana frustrated. “Right. Au revoir, dear lady.”
A half dozen needlers stayed on Roquelaire’s party until they’d stepped into the lift car and the vacuum doors had sealed.
Lilliana waited a minute then activated her comm earring.
“Dick?”
“They’re clear,” the reply came.
“Great,” she said. She twisted a segment of her earring and the Donna Stella vanished, force field and all. “Regan, get those bars installed so we can get off this rock.”
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