The cargo levels were immense, a city’s worth of freight distributed in staggered compartments, climate-controlled and protected from the vagaries of interstellar transit. The Lotaran exhibition’s cargo was secured in Section 49-C, marked as ‘cultural artefacts’, a designation that placed it in a restricted but not impenetrable zone.

Our ‘work’ detail had us assigned to the general handling team, and since by the time we reported in, all of the freight transfers had been completed, the work turned out to be about monitoring environmental controls and verifying manifests. It was, as Jake Firby had assured us, a perfect cover. If anyone questioned why we were near the crates, we had every reason to be there.

The challenge was not to alert the additional security.

“You see that?” Florence muttered, nodding towards a small surveillance node blinking in the corner of the cargo bay entrance.

I frowned. “I just knew it would turn out to be impossible.”

Florence frowned at me. “Come off it, Finn,” she said, “OK, the ship’s security is actually fairly light. It’s designed to deter opportunistic theft, not to fend off organised sabotage. Of course, there are still motion sensors, biometric scans for restricted areas, and the ever-present risk of some other actual crew member taking an interest in our movements. But definitely not insurmountable. So cheer up.”

Well, that’s me told.

“We need a distraction,” I said. “Something that will keep eyes off us while we check the Lotaran crates.”

Florence’s grinned. “That’s more like it, Finn. You do know we’re in a floating city full of volatile cargo and thousands of delicate mechanical systems, right?”

“…You have something in mind, don’t you?”

“I have several things in mind.”

The first step was simple misdirection. The ship, for all its scale and sophistication, was still a closed-loop environment. Systems relied on constant self-monitoring and automated adjustments to keep everything running smoothly. Which meant that when Florence and I, quite accidentally, of course, inadvertently overloaded one of the environmental dampers in an adjacent section, by setting off an inert gas fire extinguisher onto a temperature sensor, causing a false temperature variance warning, it immediately triggered a minor, and very irritating series of alarms.

As a result of which, crew members scrambled to assess the issue. Within minutes, the majority of personnel in the cargo sector were focused on investigating a harmless, entirely unexplainable mechanical hiccup. Which left Section 49-C momentarily unwatched.

We moved fast.

The Lotaran shipment consisted of several large crates, sealed with identification markers confirming their contents. The one we needed, if our theory was correct, was among them.

Florence pulled out her handheld cargo scanner, a neat bit of crew kit that came with the job when we reported for work. She scanned the crate.

“Bingo,” she whispered. “Additional information: ‘Culturally sensitive items. Do not open without authorisation. Not for general display. Sevridian and Fremdar exhibitions only.’”

“Which means…”

“It means it’s something they didn’t want on public display at GEO.” She tapped the screen. “And this is the best hope for us to find the next shard. We have a window, but not a big one.”

I exhaled. “So, how do we get inside?”

Florence considered. “I don’t know… do you happen to have a crowbar in that jacket?”

“No, but I do have this…” I pulled out Verya’s gift, which might do the job if I can just jam this end under the lip of the crate…”

She sighed but didn’t argue. “Fine. But make it as quiet as possible, Finn.”

We crouched by the crate, I beavered away with ‘Finn’s Little Helper,’ and to my complete and utter amazement, the lid just levered off. True, I’d inadvertently zapped it with about six billion gigawatts of zappage by pressing the wrong button, which may, or may not have blown the locks. But I didn’t expect it to be that easy. Still. Never look a gift horse and all that.

We worked quickly, the ship humming around us as it carried us further from L1 and deeper into the unknown. And what did we find?

A novelty bright yellow die-cast egg cup shaped like a toilet with ‘Welcome to sunny Benidorm’ on one side and ‘Bienvenido a la soleada Benidorm’ on the other. This had to be it.

“Which tells you a lot about the Veridians, if they find a die-cast egg cup shaped like a toilet culturally sensitive,” I said.

Florence gave me that look.