start getting ready for a party or for a foray into Matavara. Did you secure an invitation?”
“No.”
The word was so unexpected it took me a few seconds to process it. “No? Did you go to Yuko?” I asked, naming Veronica’s contact.
“Yes,” he said wearily.
“Did you tell her it was for me?”
“No, but she knew. She said you had to come yourself. It’s a trap, of course.”
“Veronica vouches for her and sent me a letter of introduction. It’s not a trap.”
“You’re not going.” The words rang with a finality that made me want to gnash my teeth.
“Director Bishop, I am going to Yuko’s shop or I am crashing a Syndicate party. Which would you prefer?”
“Matavara is even worse than I remember. I’m not letting you out of this ship.”
That wasn’t really his decision, but I let him think that it was. “Then we’re crashing the party. Any idea how to get past security without getting caught? I hate going in blind.”
“You and I are not crashing the party. I’m sending you home. Alex and I will infiltrate the party. Fortuitous—”
“Fortuitous, remove authorization for all personnel other than myself,” I said. I had hoped to save this ability as a surprise for later, but I wasn’t going to let Ian ship me off the planet.
“Yes, Captain von Hasenberg,” the ship acknowledged. “Authorization removed.”
“I changed the override codes,” Ian ground out.
“Yes, you did.”
“How did you get in?”
My smile was sweet enough to cause cavities. “I told you that I’m one of the best systems crackers in the universe. That was not hubris.” True, but in this case, it happened to be more helpful that I was a von Hasenberg on one of our own ships. I kept that bit to myself.
I continued, “So, with the understanding that I will do one of the following with or without you, would you prefer to go get an invitation or crash the party?”
“Aoife, armor up,” Ian said. “Alex, you have the ship.” Ian’s furious gaze flashed to me. “You’ll have to give him access to the doors and defensive systems.”
I used the cargo bay’s control panel to give Alexander limited tactician authority. He wouldn’t be able to take off, but he could access the other systems required to keep the ship safe on the ground. I gave Aoife the same access, and after a brief pause, Ian, too.
“Do you know how to wear that combat armor in your crate?” Ian asked. It didn’t surprise me that he’d gone through my stuff when he’d transferred it over.
“I’ve had the training,” I allowed. I hated combat armor. I found it incredibly claustrophobic, and I wasn’t usually prone to claustrophobia. But Matavara was hostile to outsiders and going out without armor would be incredibly stupid. Locals had some degree of protection from whichever gang claimed their territory, but outsiders stood out like red flags.
“Get it on,” Ian said. “We need to make this quick.”
On the protection spectrum, combat armor fell somewhere between simple ballistic armor and fully mechanized armor suits. It was made of a lightweight composite, but a full suit still weighed more than half as much as I did. Combat armor was powered and had some built-in movement assistance, but nothing like a fully mechanized suit that would let a user lift a transport.
Ada had procured a suit sized to my height—a feat in and of itself. I’d worn armor that was too big before, and it just made the whole experience worse.
I pulled the armor out of the crate, inspecting each piece. It was all pristine. I stepped into the lower body section and it clamped around my body from the waist down. I squatted down and the armor moved with me. So far, so good.
The chest piece went on over my head, like a bulky, oversized tank top. The front and back clamped together. It wasn’t tight but I had to fight the feeling of suffocation.
Each arm was designed as a single sleeve that clamped into the chest piece at the shoulder. My hands were covered by a stretchy, reinforced glove with light armor on the backs of my fingers. Blasters for use with combat armor had to have oversized trigger guards.
I swung my arms and hopped in place, testing my movement. I was slightly slower and heavier than usual, but it didn’t feel as if I was wearing an additional thirty-five kilograms of weight.
The helmet was my least favorite part of this whole ensemble. I pulled it over my head, but left the face