The Prince's Wedding (The Erik Midgard Case Files Volume 3)

Chapter 12

Dia was the only moon of Jupiter which had not been named after a daughter of Zeus.

The destination data on the screen of Endovelicus's boardcom revealed it was twelve million kilometres from Jupiter, but one glance out of the windows – real ones, this time –at the rocky, meteor-scarred, steeply-curved landscape, told me that it had to be only a few kilometres across. The moon probably didn't contain anything more interesting than iron and nickel, so it would be low on anyone's list to mine, which might have been why the Justinians had chosen to build a retreat here.

We had barely finished materialising in the small, but exquisitely decorated living room of the villa, before one of the doors flew open and four men skidded through it, raising unirifles.

"Phoenix! Phoenix!" shouted Chernobog, as they all took aim.

"What the hax...?" said the man in the lead. He was in his late twenties, with very short dark hair, dressed in a black J.I. special forces officer's uniform.

"Isobel Chernobog. Imperia Intelligence," said Chernobog. "We're here to..."

"Don't move," said the officer, not lowering his rifle. His name tag read Domitian. He held out one hand. "Credentials."

Chernobog pulled out an ID card and handed it over.

"You as well," said Domitian, gesturing at me, as he slipped Chernobog's ID card into a mini-scanner clipped to his belt.

"I don't have mine with me," I said, keeping my hands where they could see them. Official identification was not something you thought that you'd need while wearing full dress blues.

"We're here to...," Chernobog began again.

"Not so fast," said Domitian. "You've got five seconds to explain why Lord Alator isn't here in person, and why he's sent a foreign national."

"He's one of the ChronOps representatives for the wedding," said Chernobog. She frowned. "And it wasn't Lord Alator. It was Lord Endovelicus."

"OK. Correct. Phoenix is Captain Endovelicus's personal code," said Domitian. He held up Chernobog's ID card. "But while this is genuine, it says you're an intern and that you're under internal review. And I've got no way to know if that's a genuine uniform. Cuff them."

I gritted my teeth in frustration as two of them stepped forwards, pulling out flexicuffs. I couldn't fault Domitian's professionalism, but this was the worst time for it.

"I'm not an intern, I'm a...," said Chernobog. "Listen, he sent us because the I.I. may be compromised at the highest level. Call Endovelicus. He'll confirm it."

"ChronOps as well. They'll confirm who I am," I said.

"Will they?" said Domitian. "So the captain sent you here without mentioning that we're under a comms blackout? That's interesting to know."

I turned my eyes to the ceiling. We were going to spend the next few hours in their custody, with no way to get back to Ganymede, or know what the hax was happening there, particularly whether or not Eris had identified Megan.

"What is going on?"

A door slid open and a blond woman in her mid-thirties marched in. She looked like she had been born to be a nanny or a governess, but as she saw us, she stopped dead and her knees and hands tensed and then flexed in a way that showed combat training.

"I'm finding out, Miss Hestia. Get back in your room," said Domitian.

"Phoenix. Matthew Endovelicus sent us," said Chernobog. "There's a high chance this location had been compromised. We need to move the princess."