Aurelia Belasarius was as good as her word.

The irrigation rigs in Brekka's northern quarter made this part of the city a little more humid than most, but also resulted in an almost permanent blanket of steam in the air. Brackenshaw could feel the wetness on her cheeks and hair, but not the pleasant kind. It was a humid, sticky feeling that she did not enjoy. Scouts were used to tearing through the badlands with Rychter's air clawing at them from all sides.

She'd gotten used to being dry.

Turning right, she followed Aurelia into a thicket of the tall, spindly irrigation towers, each one made up of a central shaft of metal and a symmetrical arrangement of wing-like filters that siphoned moisture out of the scorching air. That moisture was then sent down, where the human operated directed a labyrinthine arrangement of pipes and sprinklers to feed Brekka's crops, sewers and waterways.

These rigs weren't the only source of water in the city – whole neighbourhoods were built around massively deep well-coring projects, digging to get at the underground rivers and streams that were hidden from Rychter's punishing sunlight – but the irrigation towers played a key role in keeping the city running. Surviving.

And it was here, amongst all this humid, human innovation, they would find Devon Boxley's sister. It was the only thing concrete they'd gotten out of him – his reaction suggested that if they leaned on her, she'd buckle.

"We're almost there," Aurelia declared from up ahead.

Brackenshaw couldn't keep her face from twitching with discomfort with what they were about to do. She was a long way from the simple soldiering life of a Scout Cadre trooper now, and she was not enjoying it.

"We don't know how involved she really is in this," Brackenshaw reminded her companion.

"I'm aware of that."

"Well, keep it mind, will you? Bad enough we're going to have the put the rapids on this girl. Let's make sure we're right before we really twist her, eh?"

Aurelia glanced back with a nod. "I'm not going to do anything I don't have to, Lieutenant, but we need that information. We need to know who Boxley's working for."

A few more twists and turns through the forest of irrigation towers brought them out of the network and into a bustling street packed with residential houses. White stone walls clustered up around them, dwellings connected to the street level by spindly staircases and small, single person lifts. It was a pretty typical arrangement – a honeycomb of houses nestled together, bisected by a thoroughfare with an array of shops filling the lower level.

They weren't interested in the shops though.

"It's up there," Brackenshaw advised, pulling level with Aurelia and tapping her on the shoulder, pointing to one of the dwellings on the fourth level.

"Let's go."

"Maybe I should go first."

Aurelia glanced at her in surprise. "What exactly do you think I'm going to do to her?"

"Nothing, nothing. It's just, you're not from Brekka. I served with Boxley for years – we've only met a couple of times but she knows who I am. It might make things go a little smoother."

The other woman considered that for a moment, then gestured to the staircase. "Alright, Lieutenant. After you."

Taking the lead, Brackenshaw took a deep breath as she mounted the stairway, trying not to move too quickly to give the sense of anything amiss to passers-by. They wound their way up to the house marked BELOVAR-IV-90. The sturdy metal door could withstand the nastiest sandstorms Rychter could conjure up, so Brackenshaw didn't entertain any notions of breaking in.

Instead she just knocked.

From inside she heard a faint scuffle of feet, and a moment later the heavy door swung inwards, revealing a woman in her thirties, her lanky frame clad in a white tanktop and a thin skirt that swished around her ankles. She was in the process of unwinding think locks of black hair as she gave them an expectant look.

"Yes?"

"Celeste Boxley?"

"That's me. Can I help you?"

"You might not remember me that well, but my name's Lieutenant Brackenshaw. I serve with your brother in the Scout Cadre?"

"With Devon? Oh, oh, yeah. It... err, Kaydie, isn't it?"

"That's right." She gestured to Aurelia. "This is Lieutenant Belasarius. I'm sorry to bother you after your shift, Celeste, but we have a sensitive matter we need to discuss with you."

Celeste shook her hair loose, her expression stiffening into one of worry. "What sensitive matter?"

Readying herself to spring and keep the door open, Brackenshaw tried to strike a conciliatory tone. "It's about your brother."

"Oh." She swallowed awkwardly. "I... is he in some kind of trouble?"

"I'm afraid he is."

Brackenshaw could see the woman considering her options, but if she slammed the door in their faces now it would only give them cause to come back with a guard patrol and an explosive charge for the door.

Celeste, thankfully, seemed to make the same calculation, and stepped aside. "You'd better come in."

"Thanks."

With Aurelia close behind, Brackenshaw stepped over the threshold, into the welcome coolness of the house interior. The front room was a cosy space, decorated with lots of spiral pattern wall hangings, and with two long, low sofas sitting at a right angle. On the table in front of them were a couple of empty beer bottles; a third half drunk.

"Sorry, for the mess," Celeste said, though she didn't really sound it. "I was on a ten our today. One of the rigs blew out and we had manually crank the sails until they could get the damn thing working again."

"Don't mention it," Aurelia said calmly. "This shouldn't take long."

"So, what's the problem? What happened to my brother?"

Brackenshaw examined the woman, trying to decide exactly how much she knew. "We've received information that he's been working with a particular group of dissidents within Brekka."

She went sheet-white and actually stepped back, her attempt at a veneer of calm evaporating. "Group? What group?"

"Celeste, I think you know very well." Brackenshaw sighed. "I'm not accusing you of being directly involved with any of this, but you know about them. You know what they've been doing."

"I don't..."

"A group that wants to continue the war, and wipe out the Scraegans, as a species. The two of you are in constant correspondence. We believe you might have information on this group – even inadvertently."

"I can't help you."

"Ms. Boxley," Aurelia interjected. "Lieutenant Brackenshaw is trying to let you do this on your own terms, but we really don't have time to drag this out. In case you didn't notice, things are getting rather tense outside these walls."

"Even if I did know what you were talking about, I'm not about to turn my own brother over to the Commissariat," Celeste snapped, rounding on the other soldier.

Aurelia shook her head with a pitying smile. "Ms. Boxley, we don't need you to turn him over. We already have him in custody."

"What...?"

"He's cooling his heels in a cell at Stamm Basin. And he's going to stay there until we get to the bottom of this." Aurelia took a step forward, arms still folded as she looked Celeste in the eye. "I'm going to be blunt with you. We don't have a lot of time. There are other ways that I can get what I need from your brother that aren't pleasant for anybody. You can help us avoid any of that.

Playing them off each other. It was all Brackenshaw could do not to laugh at the astonishing cold-bloodedness of it all. First Boxley giving up that the sister might break, and now using that very link to ensure that she would. She saw the horrified look on Celeste Boxley's face and knew that the tactic would work.

"You're going to torture him?!" she exploded.

"The people he's working for are trying to bring another war right down on top of our heads," Aurelia snarled. "So yes, if I have to, I will."

"Celeste," Brackenshaw broke in. "None of this has to happen. None of it. You just need to talk to me, here and now. Devon's already been caught. The best way you can help him now is to give us something – anything that could lead us to the people he's working for. He made it very clear that we're running out of time. They've threatened the Commissariat, directly, so if you can't, or won't help..." her gaze drifted to Aurelia, "then we'll have to take more drastic steps."

"But you can't do that."

"Damn it, do you think I want to do this?!" Anger suddenly surged into Brackenshaw's voice and she stepped in close, glaring at the other woman. "I served with your brother for years, Celeste. I trusted him. I would've talked into the Rapids for him and he betrayed me. All I'm trying to do is stop this from getting worse than it already is, and you can help me. Please!"

"I..." Celeste looked seconds away from a full blown panic as she looked frantically left and right, hunting for an avenue of escape. "Please, please, I don't know what I can tell you! I'm not with them. I... I can't. He wanted me to be part of it but... but I have a son-," She broke off, shaking her head violently, like she was trying to get rid of the memory. "I told him I couldn't risk it."

"So you never took part in any meetings? Any gatherings? Never saw anything?"

"I..." Celeste raked both hands through her hair in desperation. "I... oh, Everflowing River." Her demeanour changed then. A cold resignation seemed to wash over her. "Oh, Devon." She looked Brackenshaw in the eye. "Scout Cadre... you don't make cargo runs from the hauler yards to Stamm Basin... do you?"

"No. No we do not. Engineering Cadre handles the logistics." Catching Aurelia's eye and sensing she was inches from what they needed, she softened her tone and nodded encouragingly. "Is that what he told you?"

"He said he was bringing shipments in – munitions, fuel. Shipments from the north." Celeste exhaled, her body shuddering. "There was one night he called me, said he needed my help – just with this one thing. They needed something picked up from the main export yards and he couldn't make it – the ones that load and offload from Maratorra?"

"And did you?"

"I... he sounded so desperate. I mean, I knew it had to be something to do with those people he was working with, but it was just a package, so I said I'd do it. I went out there..." She heaved in another breath, her gaze flicking fearfully towards Aurelia. "If I tell you this-,"

"We're not after you," Aurelia said quickly. "And there's no reason I have to report anything you've done to anyone after we leave here. As long as you're telling the truth. Just tell us where, and we'll leave – Watching Lords as my witnesses."

Celeste nodded. Sniffed. "Calida-Terra yard forty-six. That's where I picked it up."

*

And that night, Calida-Terra yard forty-six had two unwanted visitors.

"You don't think we should have brought along a little back up?" Brackenshaw muttered as she followed Aurelia down the narrow back alley. Although the suns had now set, a little bit of bad luck and poor street layout meant they'd been beating down straight into the narrow defile for hours during the day, turning it into a baking corridor.

"I'd rather leave security in the Commissariat until we're absolutely sure about this," Aurelia replied, wiping sweat from her brow. "Killing Scraegans is one thing, but I just don't know how far Boxley and his people are really willing to go when it comes to humans. I'd rather not take any chances."

Brackenshaw nodded, loosening her sidearm in its holster as they walked. She could hear the groan and rumble of distant hauler engines as the drivers and foremen went about their work. Three quarters of Brekka's freight came through here, one way or another.

The yard that Celeste had pointed to, however, was just as described – a grubby little hangar right on the edge of the conurbation of other sprawling structures, with a small concrete concourse littered with dormant cargo vehicles of varying sizes. Its lights were dimmed as they emerged from the alley, and a single balloon-wheeled hauler rumbled off out of the main bay, disappearing towards the bigger yards.

She could see, however, that lights were on inside that hangar, even through there didn't seem to be any other freight being moved out.

"This way," she said quietly, nudging Aurelia and dropping low, slinking along the southern edge of the yard and taking care to keep the sleeping vehicles between them and any prying eyes.

She turned right, stepping into the ranks of dormant haulers as they drew closer to the lights of the hangar, their pace slowing, slowing and slowing until they reached the end of the row. Aurelia laid two fingers on her shoulder, bringing her to a halt. Then the other soldier beckoned, dropping down flat and slithering silently underneath the last hauler in line.

The big truck's chassis was just far enough of the ground for both of them to comfortably fit side by side, and they crawled elbow over elbow towards the front, where they could look out from underneath it, straight into the hangar.

"Alright," Brackenshaw breathed. "Let's see who's sending packages from here."

From within her jacket she extracted a set of binoculars and raised them to her eyes. Scout Cadre gear, their rudimentary processors quickly enhanced the images she was seeing, outlining bodies and shapes of vehicles in the dim light.

She counted at five people visible, two hunched over a pair of cargo crates that had been repurposed for a table. Another was smoking, drifting back and forth nearer the entrance with a home-make looking rifle hanging from his chest. Two more where leaning in over an open crate, one counting, one tapping into a data slate. Some kind of inventory, she assumed. Further back the binoculars could pick out movement, but they were too far away to delve any deeper.

Aurelia looked out through a matching pair binoculars and made a small, satisfied sound.

"Well," she whispered. "Looks like Celeste's information was good."

"Would you really have done it?" Brackenshaw asked, still watching. "With Boxley – the torture, I mean?"

She felt Aurelia shift uneasily beside her. "I've been trained to accomplish goals, no matter what."

"You didn't answer my question."

"Honestly?"

"Honestly."

"I'm not sure." A shrug. "Let's hope we never have to find out. Now, just keep watching. Let's see exactly who's coming and going from a dead end place like this in the middle of the night."

Maybe half an hour into their impromptu stakeout, they got their answer when another figure ambled into view from the recesses of the hangar. Brackenshaw trained her sights on him in an instant, ignoring how stiff she was beginning to feel and resisting the urge to crack her neck from side to side.

He was a frail-looking man, with a slicked back sheen of ghostly white hair over his skull, but the others seemed to view him with almost reverence, stopping what they were doing as soon as he appeared. His face was heavily lined like with the canyons of age, but even through the binoculars she could make out the stormy blue of his eyes. He walked among the other members of the group, speaking quietly, nodding, patting shoulders and exchanging jokes.

With a sudden, gut-wrenching jolt Brackenshaw realised she recognised those eyes.

"Bloody Rivers and Watching Lords," Brackenshaw gasped, letting the binoculars drop from her eyes.

"What? What is it? What do you see?"
"I..." She shook her head for a moment, her mouth refusing to form the words.

"Brackenshaw?"

"Give me a second." Squeezing her eyes shut for a moment, she tried to reset her mind, and then took a fresh look. She brought the binoculars back up to her face and made herself stare through those lenses into the hauling yard.

No mistaking it. Her mind spun as she tried to reconcile the horrific facts together. She knew that man over there; had taken orders from him for years as a loyal solider of Brekka. He'd led the city's defence against the Scraegan attack barely a year ago. If anything he was a little bulkier than she remembered – apparently retirement had given him a new lease on life – and now had a short, grey tangle of a beard around the lower half of his face.

But it was him. She was sure of it.

"Oh... this is not good." She looked sharply at Aurelia, finding her companion staring right back. "Do you know who that is down there?"

"Should I?"

"That man used to be the highest ranking officer in the damned city, Lieutenant. That's General Fennir Thiekvaal." She let her head loll forward until it touched the solid concrete of the concourse. "And it looks like he's trying to start a revolution."