Taking a seat in an observation blister overlooking its airless interior, she saw the Meridian drones nestled amongst the drop-ships and cradles, and clinging to various bulkheads as if glued to them. Their perfectly reflective surfaces rendered them nearly invisible.She watched the main doors of the hold swing slowly open, splitting into four quarter-circle slices and revealing a widening cross of starry black. Trader’s yacht hung at the void’s centre, growing slowly larger as it slowly manoeuvred itself inside the hold.The yacht was the colour of parchment. Its drive-spines sparkled under the hold’s powerful lights. It moved to one side as the doors began to swing closed again, waiting until the grapples took hold of it, pulling it in towards an empty cradle.Dakota touched a comms terminal, and a moment later a soft chime told her a link had been established with the craft.‘Welcome aboard, Trader.’‘Greetings and felicitations, dear Dakota. Awareness comes upon me that the frigate is refusing to extend an airlock connection to my yacht.
