A brief review of Cylonikean history had revealed that Indra was effectively a sort of hereditary constitutional monarch, although with more of the attributes of a monarch than a figure head. This particular honor passed down the matrilineal line and the women were expected to choose mates with useful genetic traits and skills.  Graciella remained the reigning Queen until that point which meant that even if Neil married the girl, he would have a long time to wait before he was elevated to the position of Royal Consort. Of course that presupposed a lot of things, like Junebug not strangling the girl in the next few minutes.

“I don’t understand why you can’t just fly your ship to this island and be done with it,” Indra said, repeating the theme if not exactly the words of several previous questions. Indra wasn’t stupid, on the contrary she was quite intelligence, but the tactical consideration an operation like this were too far outside her experience to grasp more than the vauge outlines.

They all sat around a holo console that had been set up in the Highlander’s hold. Though there were comperable and better facillities in the palace, Junebug had claimed that she had specialized software on the ship, that that wasn’t the case. Primarily she had hoped to simply get rid of Indra who had been tagging along ever since they returned from the weapons range. A guilty conscience told Junebug that Indra suspected something and was watching the pair of them, though this couldn’t have really been the case. Unfortunately barring flat out ejecting the Princess of the nation hiring her from a planning session, Junebug didn’t have an easy way to get rid of her.

“Pradec and his men certainly have a sensor net deployed,” Junebug explained patiently. She touched a control and the hologram shifted to imagery taken by a communications satellite. It showed a vessel, a pirate vessel judging from its sleek design and heavy weaponry heading towards the island. As they watched great geyser of water erupted around it and the ship veered violently and raced away pursued by similar water spouts. With another touch of a control Junebug added in reciprocal courses that the computer figured from radar returns and analysis of the imagery. 

“These are 18 or 20 inch shells,” Junebug explained, indicating with an extended finger to the origin point of the ballistic track, an apparently empty stretch of concrete outside of a dug in series of buildings in a shallow valley pointed south from the dormant volcano that formed the center of the islands spine.

“I don’t see any guns,” Taya interjected, though her tone wasn’t one of doubt.

“They have a holographic screen over them, the refresh rate from the satellite isn’t good enough to pick up the shells breaking the barrier.” It was actually a fairly clever trick, although the exact circumstances that made it work were rare. In Sayeeda’s experience the first thing any two hostile forces did was shoot down all the satellites. 

“The take away is that they opened fire a few moments after that ship came into line of sight of the peak of the volcano, so its safe to assume they have a sensor station up there somewhere. We can't risk flying the Highlander or…” she trailed off, a sly smile lighting her face.

“Thirty Seconds,” Taya said over the intercom. Junebug settled the helmet over her head, engaging the holographic display. Neil and Saxon did the same, though in the case of the Hex it didn’t look like it fit very well, with his snout pressing up against the glass. Junebug gave Neil an appraising glance, though he was still grinning like a school boy. This plan was tactically sound, but it's audacity appealed to Neil more than the conventional alternatives. He shouldered the strange device he wore on his back. It looked similar to a surfboard case, eight feet in diameter and two across. All three of them wore a similar device as well as a bulging duffel bag of weapons and equipment strapped across their chests.

There hadn’t been a good time to talk with Neil since the previous evening, between Indra’s presence and the possibility of listening devices. Even now it probably wasn’t smart, but given the likelihood of dying in the next few minutes it seemed worth the risk. She reached out and squeezed Neil’s arm, her face unreadable behind the darkened mask of his helmet.

“I can’t ask you to give up living like a prince,” she said quietly.

“But I’m not talking the job with Gregorious, when we are done here I’m leaving this rock and I want you to come with me.

“Ten seconds,” Taya prompted over the intercom. Junebug turned and took her position at the top of the cargo bay.  Neil and Saxon took up positions to her left and right, staring at the closed bay doors at the end of the hold.

“Sayeeda…” Neil began but she held up a hand.

“Tell me later,” she instructed.

“Run!” Taya shouted, the excitement and strain evident in her voice. All three of them sprinted towards the cargo bay doors. With a scream of protest the Highlander lurched out from under them, all four of her big thrusters firing in opposition to her current course. At the same instant the cargo bay door dropped open and all three of them were pitched violently from the hold. Ten thousand meters below the surface of Cyloneika glittered and shone. From this altitude she could see the day night divider hazily creeping towards what her helmet navigator informed her was their objective. The wind howled passed her as she tore through the air, fractionally below the speed of sound. Fortunately they were high enough and the air thin enough that the ejection from the highlander didn't smash them to paste.  Spreading her arms and carefully twisting her body she lined herself up with the indicated safe zone on her helmet display and then slapped the deployment stud on her right shoulder. There was a sudden deafening WOOOSH as Polymer wings twenty feet in length sprang from the unit on her back, her careful angle allowing her to hold onto the velocity the Highlander had imparted to her without tearing her limb from limb. She gripped the two control sticks on her belt and adjusted her course minisculely, nosing down slightly to match the computers optimum projected aerodynamics. Neil had modeled the units of racing gliders he had seen in the past, but the goal in this case wasn’t speed but distance. The launch from the Highlander gave them enough velocity that they should be able to glide to the island several hundred miles away without enough metal on them to worry any ground based observers. 

Clouds whipped by as Junebug continued her decent, whipping past in a white blur. Her helmet displayed her speed as something close to four hundred KPH, calculated terminal velocity was 423 KPH so she nosed down slightly to pick up speed. The computer refigured her vector and placed her in the green, marginally, for reaching the island. She couldn’t turn her head, and it was dangerous to use radios, but the two green beads, a result of a broadcast of broadcast from the Highlander disguised as innocuous weather data, indicated that Neil and Saxon had both, thus far, survived the jump.