Free Apex by Aer-ki Jyr Page A

ever so slightly, then began creeping laterally, spinning about as he did so. He moved about thirty meters off to his right into the visual deadzone created by one of the crate stacks. Once there, the scout allowed himself a slightly more rapid pace and closed in on the ship.
    W ITH HIS GREY suit shifting into the deep reds of the cargo crates, the scout maneuvered from stack to stack, circling around until he was on the far edge opposite the blind side of the ramp and well away from the path of the walkers. Crouching low again, his suit shifted back to the landing platform grey and he crawled up to one of the ship’s giant landing legs, circled around it, and closed on the ramp.
    He reached it without detection, pulling up beneath the angled plate and crouching in the shadows while he stretched. Crawling was natural to his race, but this much was beyond the norm.
    The sound of heavy footsteps was easily audible through the ramp and the Presca mentally counted the interval between one walker’s passing and the next. After a while he got the pattern down, noticing a large dead zone during which two of the walkers were inside, ostensibly loading crates, while the third was out and stacking its.
    The scout waited through another rotation to be sure, then hearing the third walker come down over top of him he moved out to the edge of the ramp and swung up on top of it as the walker stepped off onto the tarmac. He took a quick glance inside as his suit adjusted to the color of the ship.
    All clear.
    Keeping in his low, spider-­like crawl, he moved up the ramp and into the freighter, hugging tight to the wall and standing pressed against it. Distant heavy footsteps became audible as one of the walkers in the hold began its trek up to his level and out onto the tarmac.
    The scout scurried along the wall down the long accessway until he came to a ramp junction. Glad for the additional cover, he slipped onto the dorsal ramp and began searching the interior of the ship.

 
    Chapter 7
    H A VING RECEIVED WORD from the spaceport that the Felaxix corporate transport convoy was approaching, Jalia waited at the base of the Resolute ’s ventral boarding ramp for them to arrive while the Cres went back inside to bring out a pair of walkers to help load the cargo. The transports would probably have their own walkers or hoverlifters with them, but using both would expedite the transfer, and corporate types always liked expediency.
    The first of the long transports lifted up out of a trench on the south side of the ship, which was on the opposite side of the boarding ramp. Jalia heard the slight sound alteration in her headtails and circled around to see the second of the flatbeds rise up and slide onto the tarmac. The operator tower was in the center of the rectangular beds, sitting high over the engine compartment. The lead transport approached head-­on, giving a vertical silhouette that reminded Jalia of the long-­necked dulchak pack animals on her homeworld.
    The third transport rose up in sequence, followed by many more. They formed a long line with uniform intervals. Jalia noticed that some of the flatbeds already had some crates on them.
    She frowned. That wasn’t typical. Based on previous experience, the flatbeds came directly from the corporate warehouses. Sending partially loaded transports meant that more would have to be sent to accommodate the entire cargo . . . and that was very uncorporate-­like.
    Behind Jalia, barely noticeable, the distant steps of the walkers coming from inside the cargo hold stopped.
    The first of the transports swung around to the outside of the stacks of crates, putting them between the flatbeds and the ship with Jalia getting a bad feeling creeping up her spine. They’d left an intentional gap between the staggered clumps of crates for the transports to line up inside to make for easier loading, yet the drivers had chosen to go outside of that, making more distance for