The wind slashed across the hull of the shuttle as Admiral Stonefist secured everything inside. The brutal, shifting storm howled over the little vessel that squatted on the ground.

  Grimthorn knew this was a bad idea, but staying stuck on Takkar for another week was worse.

  What's more, the Infographers on the Swordheart had tracked Kinnit's shuttle to the Ceon system. That could only mean she'd headed for the deadly pit of Techterra.

  Grimthorn forced himself not to think about it as he began powering the shuttle up.

  The shuttle dutifully came online and ran its pre-flight checks. Grimthorn frowned and double-checked everything. He especially double-checked the harness securing him to his seat.

  It was going to be a bumpy ride.

  He eased the yoke back and the shuttle easily broke its grip with the ground. The wailing winds immediately snatched the vessel and flung it toward a nearby copse of trees. Admiral Stonefist boosted the power and pulled the shuttle higher, trying to get some altitude.

  He cleared the trees and turned the shuttle head-on into the wind. The engines flared, but their thrust merely held the shuttle in place against the buffeting wind.

  He knew that if he tried to fly directly toward the eye, the storm would blow him halfway to the equator before he got there. The tactic he'd worked out with the pilots and scientists on the Swordheart was straightforward enough. He'd boost directly into the headwind, to try and keep the shuttle stable. Then he'd ease the rudder over gently, drifting toward the eye of the storm.

  Unfortunately, the headwind was not at all stable. The wind was coming from the east, but only on average. It didn't blow smoothly at him from just one direction. It shifted from moment to moment, buffeting him from one side, then lashing out from another. Grimthorn wrestled the controls to hold his course.

  He spent most of the shuttle's thrust fighting the wind, and most of his concentration holding it stable.

  The little shuttle rose higher, angling slightly toward the storm's eye to the south. Grimthorn played a delicate balance with his altitude. The higher he went, the more violent the wind became, but he didn't want to get too low: the turbulent storm could unexpectedly drop him fifty or a hundred feet through the air before the engines could catch up and add some boost. Slamming into the ground would bring a quick end to his trip.

  Grimthorn's teeth clenched. His whole body was tense as he pushed the shuttle further south. The portal across the front of the shuttle was useless. The only thing visible was a rushing wall of water dashing against the screen.

  When he could spare the attention, he'd cast an eye at the waypoint graph on his console. He had to make sure he was still on course, estimating the remaining distance.

  Eight klicks. Five klicks. Three klicks. One klick.

  Foot by foot, inch by inch, Grimthorn drove the shuttle toward the eye of the storm. The engine howled, fighting the storm. His console beeped as he came within a few hundred meters of the eye.

  And now came the hard part.

  The analysts on the Swordheart had explained to him that the eye of the storm was an area of calmness in the center of the hurricane. If he could get there, he could easily make it off-planet. Surrounding the eye, though, was a stormwall, a thin ring of extremely high winds and unpredictable turbulence.

  Grimthorn throttle up and gained more altitude, fighting the increased wind. He'd need the buffer from the ground. He took a deep breath. After a slight pause, he angled the shuttle over. He gave the engines extra power, and flew into the stormwall.

  It was clear when he touched the stormwall. It only took a moment for the ripping wind to slap the shuttle away, causing it to flip end over end back out into the regular storm.

  Grimthorn swore through gritted teeth as he struggled to regain control. The readouts on his console beeped and flashed. The console threw every warning it could as the shuttle tumbled through the storm. Bit by bit, Grimthorn stabilized his flight. The shuttle stopped tumbling and righted itself, regaining its uneasy stability in the teeth of the storm.

  Grimthorn made a mental note to personally thank whoever had designed the pilot's seat harness for these shuttle. It kept him solidly in place as the shuttle slewed in every direction.

  Easing into the stormwall was clearly not going to work. Maybe raw power would do the trick.

  Grimthorn forced the shuttle further west, pushing into the direction of the wind. Once he had a little range, he spun the shuttle around and throttled up, using the wind at his back to give him more speed as he blasted forward.

  The shuttle simply bounced off the stormwall, tumbling again. Grimthorn swore mightily, wrestling the vessel back under control.

  This wasn't working. He'd tear the shuttle apart if he kept slamming it into the ripping wind. He frowned. He had to break through, but the shuttle simply didn't have enough power to make it into the column of wind that was the stormwall.

  The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

  He paused. What would Kinnit do?

  She'd work with the storm, instead of against it.

  He turned the shuttle so that the wind was coming from behind. The propulsion from the hurricane gave the shuttle a powerful, albeit unstable, boost to its speed.

  Instead of flying directly toward the eye, he flew with the flow of the wind, circling the eye, picking up speed. Grimthorn hugged the stormwall, flying with the wind. Though he was moving faster, there wasn't quite as much turbulence.

  With pinched lips, he angled back into the stormwall again. Now that he was moving with the wind, he wasn't immediately slapped out of the heart of the storm.

  That didn't mean it was a smooth ride. His vessel was yanked back and forth, with sudden drops and altitude shifts every second. The gale winds threatened to pull the shuttle to pieces. Clinging grimly to the controls, he pushed further, inward, inward...

  He popped through. The shuttle spun and tumbled as it came out in the eye of the storm.

  Grimthorn leveled his flight out and gazed in wonder. Scattered rain still dropped here, but there was nearly no wind. The shuttle floated, still and serene, in the giant, bowl-like eye. Thick, angry clouds circled a sea of calm that was easily eighty kilometers across. The sun shone down through the sprinkling rain.

  Unreal. It was like he'd just entered a different world. The fury of the storm was only a couple hundred meters away, but here the air was calm, the sun was bright, and the rain was sparse.

  The emerald forest gleamed below, soaked by the passing of the storm. Many uprooted and broken trees were visible in the verdant carpet. Some bare patches of rock were visible where the storm had been particularly violent.

  And the Kobolds dealt with this every year? Grimthorn suddenly felt that he understood Kinnit a little better.

  He turned the shuttle's nose away from the planet and aimed for the relative peace and calm of hard vacuum.

  Kinnit and Dass sat at the kitchen table in the safehouse, going through the pictures she'd gotten in Ordren's office.

  "Okay, so I got some general layout photos, like you said," she chirped, flipping through the pictures. "But look, here are the pictures of the device I found."

  Pictures of a long, narrow device taped to a surface shone from her scanner. It looked like a wire with a small bundle at one end.

  Dass' face stiffened, and a troubled look crept across his brow.

  "I recognize that handiwork," he said hoarsely. He stared at the image, a dark shadow creeping across his face. "I thought he was dead."

  "What? Who was?"

  "Nothing." Dass cleared his throat. "Nothing for you to worry about. Just some old business. Keep going."

  Kinnit nodded slowly and got back into her spiel.

  "The wire is in a good spot," she said. "Right under the edge of the desk. Far enough back to avoid being seen, close enough to pick up audio from anybody in his office, and, of course, plenty close enough to pick up anything Ordren says."

  She eagerly flipped through the dozens of photos she'd snapped. This little device had gotten more photo exposure than some runway models.

  "Is it enough, do you think?" Kinnit asked. "Could we open an investigation? Could I... get back into the Navy with this, do you think?"

  Dass drew in a long breath, his face still worried.

  "Well, that question's a little above my pay grade. Clearly Commander Ordren's office was the source of the leak, or at least, that's a reasonable narrative. Problem is, Ordren's a political creature. As long as he thinks it serves his purposes to keep you out of the Navy, he'll keep you out."

  Dass leaned back, thinking. Kinnit's face crumbled.

  "That's not fair!" she cried. "This proves that I wasn't the leak! How could he still keep me out?"

  Dass raised an eyebrow.

  "Fairness doesn't enter into it. The question is one of exposure. If we simply confront him, he can deny it, clear his office of the wire, and bury the story. We could go to the media, but he's pretty cozy with those guys as well. We need something public, dramatic. Exposure by someone people trust."

  "What about Grimthorn? What if he exposed Ordren?"

  Dass grimaced.

  "That's... not a good idea." He gave Kinnit a meaningful look. "Grimthorn clearly has a horse in this race, and I don't think either of you would be well-served by a lot of public scrutiny on your relationship."

  Kinnit colored.

  "Oh. Right."

  "But that's a good instinct. This is probably a question to bring to Grimthorn. He has more resources he can bring to bear on the problem. In any case, I think our missions here are accomplished."

  Kinnit started.

  "Oh? Oh, yes, I-- I guess you're right." She paused, thinking. "It seems so sudden, somehow."

  Dass shrugged.

  "We've done what we set out to do. You've found evidence that you weren't the cause of the leak, and we broke the back of the Electroveil Collective. With them out of the way, this conspiracy will have trouble continuing to foment distrust between SSes and citizens. Well done."

  Kinnit colored, and lowered her eyes.

  "I just want to get back to Grimthorn," she said quietly.

  Dass gave her an avuncular smile.

  "Of course. Let's get you back to Takkar. Then you can contact Grimthorn and you can figure out what to do from there."

  His expression darkened.

  "Then I've got some business of my own to attend to."

  Krassik laid back on the top bunk of his small cell. His long frame filled the tiny bunk, with his tail and feet hanging off the end. He stared wistfully at the ceiling, idly scratching at his neck.

  "Did I tell you about the time she punched that Terran right in the throat?"

  "Yeah. Four times now," his cellmate grunted.

  His cellmate was a heavy, bull-like Taurian, thickly muscled. He overflowed the bottom bunk, hanging off of nearly every side. His face had a naturally angry shape, and he didn't look as though he were trying to mitigate it any right now.

  Krassik continued, undeterred.

  "Just walked right up to him, said 'You need to respect Krassik,' and pow, put him on the ground in one shot."

  The Taurian heaved a heavy, grunting sigh.

  "Yeah. You said."

  "Ah, but the Navy got her." Krassik's eyes gleamed. "They had to get a tank to take her down. Defiant to the last, she was. Wild. Untameable. A real rolling spitfire."

  "Maybe you should go scream at a Navy tank," the Taurian grumped. "Then I can get some sleep."

  Krassik, continued to stared at the ceiling, his eyes gleaming.

  "She was wild little hatchling," he said, his voice quiet. "Heck of a woman. I'll never meet anyone like her again." He scrubbed an arm across his eyes. "I wish things could have been different."