Slowly, lights turned off, the ornithopter circled. Below, the shapes of forests, hills and fields went by beneath it, vague shadows in the darkness.

“There!” The woman seated in the observer’s seat said, pointing through the crystal wind screen. Down below, a small yellow light flickered on and off again in a steady pattern.

“What is it?” Another woman, seated behind in the passenger’s compartment asked in a quiet, refined voice.

“Our destination.” The first woman replied, fishing a hand-held luminator from her bag. She held it up to the panel and began flickering back the response to the light on the ground.

“A small farm we use sometimes as a safehouse, moving people and materials out of Imperial City.” The light on the ground changed its pattern. That was the signal for the pilot to stoop the craft into a shallow, looping dive which ended with the ornithopter touching down gently on a small, well-tended field. A dozen yards away stood a small, rustic house alongside a barn and outbuildings.

As soon as the craft had touched down, three figures standing on the ground had started towards it. In the dim midnight gloom it was just possible to make out their features. The first was a tall, broad-shouldered woman with dark brown hair, tied back in a bun. She looked young, but the labors of farm-life had left an indelible impression on her sharply lined face. Beside her were two girls in late adolescence, who carried a strong family resemblance to the older woman. All three were dressed in rough homespun.

The older woman held a long Electron-gun, the sort of makeshift second hand raygun most farmers kept around the house to zap away Ronc-moles. One of the girls held a small luminator in one hand and a ray pistol in the other. The other had another long gun. They regarded the newcomers cautiously as five women in the rough clothing of rebel fighters climbed out of the ornithopter. Then the sixth, a tall, strikingly beautiful woman with long silvery hair that seemed to glow in the twilight clambered awkwardly out and straightened, working out the stiffness of a long flight for one unaccustomed to such rough transport.

“Princess!” The three exclaimed, going to one knee. Even in an age of war and rebellion, veneration for the royal family held strong in the remote corners of the Empire.

“Please…” She said, accepting their deference with concealed embarrassment. “I have put aside that title, at least so long as my uncle wears his usurped crown and commits great evil in our royal name…” Her hand went to a small crystal necklace at her breast.

“Her Highness brings with her intelligence on the Usurper’s plans.” One of her escorts told the farmers. “We must get her to the rebel High Command. Can you provide us shelter for the night?”

The farm-woman nodded. “My father served yours, during the wars. Now my sons are off fighting the rebellion against the Usurper. We can give you food and a place for the night and tomorrow you can continue your journey.”

“I hope our presence will not cause your family any deprivation.” Princess Irullai said. Rationing had been as strict as ever when they left Imperial City and the Usurper’s crackdown on the black markets had caused great hunger among the lower classes there.

The other woman shook her head, smiling. “One advantage of living on a farm, you’ll work yourself to the bone each day but you’ll go to bed with a full stomach, even if you have got three hungry daughters. My youngest is asleep right now. She’ll certainly be surprised when she sees who’s come for breakfast.”

At their hostess’ instructions, the rebel pilot taxied the ornithopter into the barn, where it would be out of sight. Then she took the group into the farmhouse, leaving behind her two daughters to stand watch. Half an hour later, after they had eaten, a pair of rebels came out to relieve them. They had not been out long when there was a noise from the barn.

“Wait here.” One of the rebels said. “I’m going to check it out. If I’m not back in 3 minutes, raise the alarm.” Then, taking out her ray pistol, she crept silently in the direction of the barn.

The second rebel waited, her own gun drawn, watching the direction her companion had disappeared towards. She therefore didn’t see the figure creeping up behind her until a hand was clamped tight across her mouth. She had scant moments to try and struggle before the business end of a stun-stick was jabbed into her back. She spasmed, then went unconscious.

In the barn, the first rebel guard was busy checking the ornithopter. It was vital for transporting the Princess and the data she carried tomorrow. If it were sabotaged or even unintentionally damaged, all their plans would be ruined. To her relief, it appears untouched. She was just heading back out of the barn when a gloved hand clamped tight over her mouth and a stun stick was thrust into her side.

“Over here…” the dark, deeply modulated voice of the Imperial Shadow trooper buzzed as he directed his men to drag the limp figure of the second rebel to lay beside her unconscious comrades. “Secure them.” The squad leader ordered. “The rest of you follow me.” He turned, the rest of his men falling into position to storm the rebel safehouse…

***

Duke Vatren, Supreme Commander of Imperial Forces and the right hand man of the Emperor himself, stood, legs planted at a precise distance apart, hands clasped behind his back in a pose calculated to show power and authority. The long black cloak he wore for the same purpose whipped and billowed in the backwash of the heavy troop carrier. It had touched down in an open field a few minutes after the team of Shadow Troopers he had sent in ahead started their assault on the misnamed rebel safe house.

“Umber Squad is coming now sir.” Another one of his troopers said, not moving from attention beside the ramp. “With prisoners.”

A moment later, the squad of Shadow Troopers came out the door of the farmhouse, leading a line of dejected rebel prisoners. The women had their hands locked in binders, shock collars around their necks and fetters on their ankles. As they neared the landing craft, Duke Vatren could see the metal bands of a gag covering each woman’s face. At the lead was the farmer and her two daughters, followed by the five rebel soldiers and bringing up the rear…

Duke Vatren’s eyes widened. He grinned, twirling his long, waxed mustache gleefully. He strode forward as his men lined their prisoners up for his inspection. Some of the women cringed, unable to meet his gaze. Others glared defiantly, but the Duke swept past all the others to the end of the line. “Well well…” He said with another twirl of his mustache. “Your Highness…this is an unexpected honor. We’ve had this safehouse under watch for some time, waiting for the next miserable band of rebels for us to bag, but I never thought we would catch our wayward imperial princess.”

Princess Irullai glared daggers back at the Duke, whatever words of defiance she might have said garbled by the gag which circled the lower part of her head. “These scum will be sent to the labor camps, but the Emperor will be most interested in seeing his prodigal niece again…as well as the stolen plans you…” It was as he was saying this, Duke Vatren’s gaze fell to the Princess’ decolletage, which was quite worth looking at, especially as, during the violence of her capture, the modest white gown she wore had happened to rip, exposing far more then propriety normally allowed. But the Duke’s enjoyment was ruined by the lack if the crystal pendant he had expected to see hanging above those magnificent breasts.

“The Plans!” He hissed in angry realization. “Where is the data crystal with the stolen plans?” Princess Irullai’s grunts were, as before unintelligible, but clearly not an answer to the Duke’s question. He turned to the head of the Shadow Troopers. “Did you find any data crystals on her?” The trooper shook his head. “Well, go back and search! Tear this house apart, board by board if you must, but find them!” He turned back to the Princess. “It would save you and your rebel friends a good deal of suffering if you would tell me what you’ve done with those plans!”

As she grunted something most unbecoming of a princess, he gave a frustrated snarl and signaled the troopers. With jeers and shoves they herded the line of prisoners up the ramp onto the troop carrier. As she stumbled after the others, Princes Irullai smiled beneath the uncomfortable metal gag. The Duke was still shouting to his men to search the barn and the surrounding grounds, certain the data crystals containing the vital plans must have been hidden somewhere in a desperate attempt to keep them out of Imperial hands.

What he didn’t know, hopefully wouldn’t find out, was that as the other rebels had mounted a final, hopeless stand defending the safehouse, the Princess had fled to the far corner of the building. There she found a window that wasn’t covered by the Imperial troopers. Beyond was just a short dash over night shrouded ground to the tenuous safety of the woods beyond. But the window was small, too small for any adult squeeze through, which was likely why the troopers hadn’t considered it as a potential escape vector needing to be covered.

The princess had been about ready to throw the data crystal out and trust to fate it would be found by friendly hands, when a gasp from the door drew her back. She had turned and spotted a child, the youngest daughter of the farmer. She had, till then, been sleeping peacefully, ignorant of what was going on until noise of the battle woke her from sleep.

There had been scant time to explain things, but Irullia had done her best to impress on the child the danger they were in, and the overriding importance of the tiny data crystal she’d entrusted to the child. Then she’d helped the girl to squeeze through the gap. She’d just shut the window when the door burst open and imperial troopers rushed in. They had captured her, but fortunately none thought to look out the window and notice the tiny fugitive escaping into the night.

Along with the rest of the prisoners, the Princess was shoved into one of the troop carrier’s seats. Straps were pulled tight across her body, pinning her in place. A moan of terror from  the captured rebels as they felt the carrier lift off the ground. For the rest, they could look forward to a brief, but brutal interrogation by Imperial Intelligence, then a sentence to a life of backbreaking toil in the labor colonies. The Princess knew her immediate future would be no more pleasant, depending on what punishment her uncle thought appropriate for his wayward niece and the sort of example he planned to make of her. She could only hope that, somehow, the plans would make it to the rebel army their sacrifice would not be in vain…