Tanya's sleep was fitful at best. She didn't feel ready for today. This was about being a salesperson and representative, which was far from her comfort zone of sitting in her workshop designing ships. But their unexpected promotion to the main hall meant there was no going back to the comfortable scenarios that they had planned for.
As they prepared for the day ahead, Cameron automatically slid the last piece of fruit from his plate onto hers while they discussed the exhibits they'd glimpsed during setup.
"Did you see that programmable metal demonstration yesterday?" Tanya asked, reaching over to tuck a wayward strand of hair behind his ear as she spoke.
"The way it could reshape itself based on environmental input was fascinating," Cameron nodded. "I was more interested in those portable habitat pods. The engineering that goes into making a complete living space that's compact but still functional."
"Those could be useful for exploring," Janet added, watching the scene in front of her with a smile.
Tanya wished she could be a normal attendee of the event, walking around and marvelling at the innovations on display, instead of being the centre of attention.
Their main hall display had turned out better than expected. The beacon schematic hologram dominated one corner, and next to it, a physical model with complete technical specifications showing how the navigation network could revolutionise intersystem travel. Tanya had made the decision to share everything except the dimensional sensor technology itself.
"You're giving away the beacon design?" Cameron had asked during setup.
"I want more beacons out there," Tanya explained. "I'm a utilitarian at heart. The more people building these, the better the navigation network becomes. I'll make my money selling the navboxes and dimensional sensors, and those are where the real innovation is."
It was a win-win strategy that should have generated significant interest from shipbuilders and exploration companies.
Except nobody wanted to talk about the beacons.
From the moment the show opened, every conversation centered on the Avdrulla Stela. Visitors crowded around the atmospheric surfer, asking detailed questions about hull composition, energy shielding, and atmospheric dynamics. The beacon display might as well have been invisible.
"How does the hull withstand those pressure differentials?" asked a shipbuilder, studying the surfboard's elegant curves.
"The wing and atmosphere interface must be incredibly sophisticated," commented another visitor. "What kind of processing power does that require?"
"All technical details will be revealed during our panel on day four," Amara replied smoothly to each inquiry. "Today's about a general introduction, so if you want your questions answered, please sign up for the panel."
The pattern repeated throughout the morning. Atmospheric surfing had captured everyone's imagination, while practical navigation improvements generated polite indifference.
"I feel like I'm selling the wrong product," Tanya complained during a brief break. "The beacons could transform how humans explore space, but everyone just wants to know about storm surfing."
"Revolutionary navigation is hard to visualise," Janet observed. "Atmospheric surfing looks exciting on holovids."
Red, Blue, and Green had been circulating through the crowds, identifying potential threats and surveillance attempts. Their reports suggested multiple intelligence operations were active, but most seemed focused on gathering information for day three or four when technical details would be revealed.
"Standard corporate intelligence," Blue reported. "Nothing immediately dangerous."
The afternoon was winding down when everything changed. An elderly woman approached their booth with the unhurried grace of someone accustomed to having time and attention whenever she required it. One of her companions, a nondescript man who was obviously security despite his civilian clothes, produced a high-tech foldable chair from somewhere and positioned it beside their display.
"My dear," the woman said warmly, settling into the chair with obvious relief. "These old bones aren't built for standing all day. I hope you don't mind if I rest while we chat?"
There was something immediately disarming about her. She had the kind of grandmotherly presence that made everyone relax, speaking in soft tones peppered with "dear" and "darling" that felt genuine rather than condescending. Another of her security detail pulled out a cup, a saucer and tea in a thermos. He prepared her a nice cup of tea that she took a slow sip from.
"Of course not," Tanya replied, finding herself charmed despite her wariness. "How can I help you today?"
"Well, darling, everyone else seems fascinated by that lovely ship of yours, but I'm more interested in practical matters," the woman said, gesturing toward the beacon display. "This navigation system, exactly how does it actually work?"
Finally, someone who wanted to discuss the beacons! Tanya felt her enthusiasm bubble up immediately.
"The basic principle involves creating a network of dimensional reference points using beacons," she began, pulling up detailed schematics. "Each beacon records and broadcasts it coordinates in either vortex or real space, allowing ships to navigate with unprecedented precision. If they use our navbox, that can decode the location."
"How clever, dear," the woman said with genuine interest. "And the range limitations?"
"That's the beautiful part, there aren't any significant range limitations once you establish a connection to a beacon. That said it works better for intersystem travel ."
The conversation flowed naturally from there. The woman asked thoughtful questions about beacon placement strategies, network redundancy, and expansion protocols. She seemed particularly interested in the technical specifications like power requirements, maintenance cycles, and manufacturing complexity.
"The dimensional sensing component must be quite sophisticated," she said, leaning forward with curiosity. "How do you achieve that level of spatial precision?"
"The navbox uses modified crystalline matrices," Tanya explained, warming to her favorite subject. "We've developed algorithms that give us nearly 100 percent accuracy for location."
"Crystalline? Modified from what, darling?"
"Standard vortex drive components, actually," Tanya said without thinking. "The basic crystalline structure is the same, but we've reprogrammed the dimensional interface protocols to sense rather than manipulate..."
She trailed off as she noticed Cameron's expression. He was touching his collar—the signal for dangerous territory.
Looking around, she realised that Red, Blue, and Green were all focused on their conversation with subtle tension in their postures. Even Amara had moved closer, her professional instincts clearly activated.
The elderly woman noticed the shift immediately and smiled with undiminished warmth. "Well, you've certainly been informative, dear. I'm afraid I've taken up quite enough of your time."
She took another sip of her tea and stood with surprising grace, her security detail moving to assist without being asked.
"I've been thoroughly entertained," she said, patting Tanya's hand gently. "I'll be in touch about ordering some of those navboxes and beacons. Such clever work deserves proper support."
As she walked away, her entourage falling into formation around her, Tanya felt a chill of realisation.
"How much did I just give away?" she asked quietly.
"The vortex drive connection," Cameron said grimly. "That's the key insight that makes the whole system possible."
"She was good," Janet admitted with professional admiration. "Completely disarming. If she hadn't pushed for that last detail, I wouldn't have realised what was happening."
Red appeared at Tanya's elbow, his expression troubled. "We ran facial recognition during the conversation. No positive identification, but that level of operational security suggests government intelligence or high-level corporate espionage."
"The chair was the tell," Blue added. "Prepared, professional, designed to make her seem harmless while encouraging longer conversation."
Tanya stared at the beacon display that had finally gotten the attention she'd wanted, but for all the wrong reasons.
"I wanted people to understand the technology," she said. "I just didn't expect someone to extract the crucial details through grandmother tactics."
//The approach was sophisticated,// Sage observed privately. //Emotional manipulation combined with technical expertise. Your enthusiasm for the beacon system made you vulnerable to social engineering. There was something different about that old lady.//
Tanya would have to follow up later with what was different, but she had more immediate concerns.
"So what happens now?" Tanya asked.
"We adapt," Amara said firmly. "We knew information would leak eventually. The question is whether we can stay ahead of the problems caused by both Cameron's slip-up yesterday and yours today. We can assume that the Vortex consortium is well aware of what we have done and likely has recorded evidence."
Just as they were beginning to process what had happened, another visitor approached their booth. This one was a rather rude young man who descended upon them like he owned the place, speaking loudly enough to draw attention from nearby exhibitors.
"Finally!" he declared without any introduction, striding directly toward the Avdrulla Stela. "I was wondering when I would find something worth my time at this glorified trade fair. This beauty will be perfect for my collection."
He began walking around the ship as if he were already inspecting his property. "I'll take it. Have it delivered to my estate by next week. The modification bays there can handle any customisation I want."
After the grandmother's subtle manipulation, Tanya's defenses were up. Red whispered "Thunderstorm" in her ear, but his tone suggested something beyond normal surveillance concerns and he sounded genuinely concerned about this particular individual.
Tanya felt her temper flare at his presumptuous attitude. "Excuse me," she said sharply, stepping between him and her ship. "You can't just 'take it.' This isn't some trinket in a shop window."
"Everything's for sale if the price is right," he replied dismissively, barely glancing at her. "And money isn't exactly a concern for me. Name your price and I'll double it."
"The Avdrulla Stela is not something you can just claim like a trophy," Tanya said, her voice rising enough to make nearby conversations pause. "It's a one-of-a-kind ship, and I will make sure its buyer is someone worthy of it."
"Worthy?" He laughed arrogantly. "Do you have any idea who you're talking to? I could buy your entire company before lunch."
That was the final straw. After being manipulated by false kindness, this direct arrogance was somehow easier to handle. Tanya turned toward the ship, placing her hand protectively on its hull as she often did. "You hear that, beautiful? This person thinks you're just another toy he can buy because he has money."
She turned back to face him, her voice carrying clearly across the booth area. "The Avdrulla Stela chooses her pilot, not the other way around. And right now, she's telling me you're not worthy of her trust."
It wasn't something she had planned, but a feeling that swelled up. She wholeheartedly believed that the ship deserved respect, not just wealth.
The young man's expression shifted completely, arrogance melting away into something approaching awe. "You believe that," he said quietly, studying her with new interest. "That's not just marketing talk, but you actually believe the ship has preferences."
His entire demeanour changed as he looked at her with fresh eyes. "My apologies," he said with a formal bow. "I was testing your resolve, but I handled it crudely. Allow me to introduce myself properly. I am Prince Archibald, second son of the Emperor."
He approached the ship with obvious reverence now, and Red gave Blue and Green a subtle shake of the head to stop them from intervening. Tanya assumed a prince likely had his own formidable security detail somewhere nearby.
"She truly is beautiful," Archibald said softly, running his hand just above the hull without quite touching it. "The craftsmanship is extraordinary. Every component seems to work in harmony with the others. This isn't just engineering…it's artistry."
He studied the wing configuration and hull design with obvious appreciation, though his questions remained general rather than technically specific. "The integration of form and function is remarkable. How do you achieve such elegant solutions?"
Tanya found herself relaxing slightly. Unlike the grandmother's probing questions, his interest seemed genuinely focused on the aesthetic and philosophical aspects of her work rather than technical secrets.
"It's about listening to what the materials want to become," she said carefully. "Finding the balance between function and beauty."
"That's a wonderful approach," Archibald said with evident sincerity. "Would you permit me to pilot the Avdrulla Stela during tomorrow's demonstration? I believe I could do justice to her capabilities, and it would certainly provide excellent advertisement for your company."
There was something in his manner, be it a combination of genuine respect for the ship and obvious enthusiasm, that made Tanya find herself considering it seriously.
"You understand this isn't just about impressive flying?" she asked. "It's about demonstrating what atmospheric surfing can become when pilot and ship work in harmony?"
"I wouldn't dream of treating her as anything less," Archibald replied with obvious sincerity. "Thank you for trusting me with her. I promise you won't regret it."
After he left with considerably more grace than he'd arrived, Tanya turned to her team.
"Well, that was an interesting end to the day," Cameron observed. "First, a sophisticated intelligence operation, then a prince asking to borrow your ship."
"At least the prince was honest about testing me," Tanya said. "And he didn't try to extract technical secrets through fake grandmother tactics."
As they began packing up for the day, Tanya reflected on the strange contrasts of her first day in the main hall. She'd been outmaneuvered by someone playing an entirely different game, but she'd also gained a pilot who might help showcase her work to the galaxy's most influential audiences.
The beacon technology that nobody seemed to want had apparently been valuable enough for a sophisticated intelligence operation, while the atmospheric surfer continued to attract attention from the highest levels of Imperial society.
The first day had been a learning experience.