The small ship rolled to a stop, its engines winding down as its systems vented unknown vapors. The ship had a long, cylindrical fuselage resembling a flattened cigar, with short stubby wings and a pair of tail-mounted engines. She had numerous maneuvering ports located all about her fuselage, but from what Jessica could see, the ship was unarmed.

A small boarding hatch about a meter aft of the cockpit windows suddenly swung downward, becoming a boarding ramp complete with small steps that folded out automatically as the hatch fully deployed. A slender man in his mid-thirties, with jet-black hair and a melodramatic goatee, stepped out through the hatch and looked about. He immediately saw the four weapons pointed at him from either side of the bay and assumed a submissive posture, his hands forward and held up, for all to observe their emptiness. “I carry no arms,” he announced. “I pose no threat to you.”

“Keep your hands up where I can see them, and we’ll have no problems,” Jessica instructed confidently.

The man looked at her for a moment, finally deciding that she was not the type that would have a problem pulling the trigger of her weapon if necessary. “As you wish,” he agreed, holding his hands up even higher and farther away from his body as he continued down the step ladder. “Please do not harm me. I am here at the request of Jalea Torren. She is with you. Is she not?”

“She is,” Jessica replied. The man continued toward her. “That’s far enough,” she added with more urgency. “Hands up on your head, please. Stay perfectly still, and everything will be fine.” Jessica rose from her cover and headed toward him, gesturing to Enrique to do the same. Weatherly and Holmes both stayed back, ready to cover the two ensigns should things turn bad.

Suddenly, the hatch to the man’s ship closed of its own accord, causing Jessica to stop in her tracks. “I told you not to move!” she warned.