Kohlberg Station<br/>Midwatch<br/><br/><hr class="bbc-hr bbc-hr--3"/><br/>"She's here."  The woman was dressed in the coveralls of a second rate passenger liner crewmen with flashes that showed she worked as a rated hand in the cargo division.  The hand comm she used was several years old but beneath its shell there was a chip that had a frequency agile, encrypted capability that was currently being used.<br/><br/>"Off that old<i>Dogged</i>class that just undocked?"  It was a man's voice on the other end, raspy as if getting over a cold.<br/><br/>"I don't know.  I didn't see where they came in but...hang on.  Let me get some imagery."  From her coveralls the woman took out a small imager with an oil-stabilized organic lens and shot several seconds of very high quality video of Thomyris and Iona alike.  "Dumping it now. I don't have processing capability," she said and waited for the quarter of a minute it took to transfer the video.<br/><br/>"Okay, shit...that is her.  No doubt about that. He's going to be-"<br/><br/>"Generous," the woman interrupted.  "If you play it right and don't just bust your nut thinking about it.  Play it cool."<br/><br/>"Slag you," the man rasped but with no real enthusiasm behind it.  "We can't take them station side.  Too many eyes.  Slam a tracker on them and come back.  I'll get the imagery processed and the 'metrics verified to send it to him."<br/><br/>The woman uncommed without comment and headed towards where Iona and Thomyris were walking.  As she passed by them her left hand slipped out and with an underhand toss a tracking bug flew from her hand.  It's simple organic brain inside its cunningly crafted mechanical body moved its six legs and slipped inside a fold of cloth on Thomyris' tunic and dug in then went dormant, coded to respond only when queried by the right combination of frequency and code.