“And here we are,” Saketa said,

The group came to a halt before the Tanga. In her wanderings around this city Saketa had seen two others, and it seemed they all followed the same setup. The headquarters were four storeys tall, each smaller than the one down below and topped by impressive and elegant eaves. The building sat in the middle of a yard surrounded by a wall, and the surrounding neighbourhood seemed to have grown around it, rather than the Tanga being made to fit. Overall the place had a look of both age and dedicated maintenance.

“We certainly are,” Fredrak said. “So, let’s proceed.”

Saketa simply kept her gaze fixed forward and nodded. Ayna, Vanaka and Losan didn’t voice any objections, and so they walked on.

Fredrak had his cane and, Saketa suspected, something more. Losan had some sort of stick sheath on one hip, and a short-range civilian stunner under his jacket. Ayna had a stunner of her own in addition to her baton. And Vanaka had a simple fighting stick that wasn’t even disguised as a cane. Everyone looked as they had the night before, save that Vanaka had switched to an all-black ensemble.

Guards in dim blue Tanga uniforms flanked the gate into the yard, but spared them no more than a cursory glance, and they walked across the yard. There were no trees or flowerbeds; apparently the yards were used for large-scale sparring. But climbing plants of some sort decorated the inner walls, and the richly-coloured building had enough character on its own.

“This looks nice,” Ayna commented. “I mean, I’m sure this and that has some kind of cultural significance we’re all missing, but I’m just left with saying ‘nice’.”

“It is,” Vanaka agreed.

It was the guards outside of the building itself that stopped them. Fredrak conversed in their own language, and translated back that there were already some guests, and that they would need to wait.

Saketa suspected it was just luck that they hadn’t arrived at the tail end of a long line. No doubt there were many problems and many concerns. Every set of eyes was drawn to the same sight this day, and she let her own gaze wander to the fleet. It was still in the process of charging leap-reactors. Ships were still coming and going, and all other travel to and from the planet was effectively paralysed in the meantime. No doubt those fanning the flames of conspiracy and xenophobia were reaping the benefits of having a cloud of warships hanging overhead.

In time a group of middle-aged people in unremarkable clothing walked out. Saketa’s group was escorted inside in turn, and they found themselves in a large, open space, with a wooden floor long since made soft and bouncy by heavy use, and a ceiling decorated with elaborate decorations that looked hand-sewn.

A group of Tanga warriors received them in the centre of the floor, and more were spread out over the space; some relaxing on benches in small groups, others tending to chores, and yet others eating meals out of hand-held bowls.

The man in the centre of it all was younger than how Saketa typically thought of leaders. At the very oldest he was a youthful-looking thirty-five year old. But he held himself with the kind of poise and self-assurance that could often substitute great experience.

He and Fredrak exchanged a few words, before the man switched to Larin.

“Let’s have it this way, then,” he said. “My name is Chull.

“You are the leader?” Saketa asked.

“I am a leader. So… none of you are local. And you feel we have something important to discuss?”

“Mutual enemies, yes,” Fredrak said.

“You are off to a good start,” Chull said. “Keep going.”

“We have been asking around,” the agent went on, stretching the truth only a little bit. “We know you are enemies of this area’s infestation of Purists…”

“Oh, any Tanga worthy of the title is,” said a blue-haired woman to Chull’s right, as she fiddled with her handwraps.

“... but while things have generally been escalating around the capital lately, your particular neighbours have been oddly quiet. We know your forces are spread thin; area people have noticed. And we know that your relationship with the neighbourhood police is a bit rocky.”

Chull craned his neck around.

“The new chief doesn’t have much respect for the way of things. His parents are offworlders. I suppose he just doesn’t get that we are bound into Yvenna’s bones. That we kept the peace back before all these rules that people take for granted. That we know our communities better than anyone who just signs up for a job. But so far you’re only telling me what I already know, fellow. Keep trying.”

The author's tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

“The Purists have just received a cache of weapons, smuggled from offworld,” Saketa said, before Fredrak could continue to be smooth. “Presumably that’s why they’ve been quiet.”

“Weapons,” Chull said with displeasure, and slowly rubbed his hard-looking hands together. “I take it you mean the dishonest kind.”

“I do.”

“26 Sajakan,” Fredrak said. “Do you know the address?”

Their faces answered the questions during the brief silence that followed.

“Oh, you do,” he continued on pleasantly. “Well, we have our own business with that place. We were hoping for cooperation, in order to fix both our problems. Listen to me, and you may potentially avoid a disaster.”

“Hmm, this certainly sounds very interesting…”

Chull began walking slowly to the side.

“Yes, we do know that address, don’t we children?”

“Yes, we sure do,” the blue-haired woman said to her superior.

He kept on walking, and started a circle around Saketa’s group.

“It’s a rat’s nest for the Purists. One of many like it. We’ve already busted some up, but they scurry away and find some place darker and more decrepit. But they don’t have any true base in The Circle. They’re spread out thin, which is why we are as well, waiting for some signal to gather together for their big revolution.”

His circle was halfway finished. Saketa kept her eyes forward.

“We haven’t noticed anything special about that place. But it is dark and somewhat isolated. Good for hiding something, or setting up an ambush. And I can be… just a little bit suspicious of strangers whose words seem just a little bit too good.”

He returned to where he started.

“You’re worried we’re Authority agents?” Ayna said. “Or Purists?”

She pinched each of her own cheeks, and messed with them as if she were playing with a stretch toy.

“Do you want to poke at my skin to see if it’s painted this way?”

“Only a real Dwyyk moves the way you do,” the blue-haired woman replied.

“Hmm.”

Ayna struck a pose that fell neatly in between provocative and childish exaggeration.

“Want to poke me anyway?”

It earned her some chuckles.

“I don’t think that’ll be necessary,” Chull said. “But let’s continue sharing. Why do you five need to get inside that building, even if you believe it’s guarded with guns?”

“That’s simple,” Saketa said. “I have reason to believe they’re either harbouring or know the location of an enemy of mine.”

“Of yours?” Chull said, and pointed at Saketa. “Not yours?” He pointed at the rest of them.

“It is a complicated situation,” Fredrak told him.

“Oh, I hate those,” the Tanga warrior said in a way that was just a little bit reminiscent of Ayna. “I’m a simple enough man, I think. I like things being orderly and familiar, and if someone has a problem with that they can put their fists up. Lately, it’s all uncertain loyalties and offworld influence and people being sneaky. And now this damned fleet.”

He threw his hands up with a bit of a flourish.

“What is a man to think?”

Vanaka separated from the group. She strode over to Chull, or rather glided, with fluid grace and sensuality. No one could miss the message she was sending. Chull certainly didn’t. Saketa wasn’t surprised that he stood still and allowed the girl to languidly place her hands on his shoulders. Vanaka was pretty enough, certainly, but during these last few years she’d mastered the use of body language. That provided the magic.

“Look…” she said to the man in a voice that matched her mannerisms. “Our information is good. I acquired it myself. And I will be happy to explain to you how I did it.”

“Oh, really?” the Tanga warrior replied, with a cocked eyebrow and a slightly tilted head.

“Somewhere my secret won’t get out.”

“You want me somewhere all dark and quiet?” he asked with joking suspicion.

The urge to smile was an unexpected gift. It felt like a real shame that Saketa had to suppress it.

“Do you want to search me first?” Vanaka whispered teasingly.

“It can... wait.”

“Then there is nothing to wait for.”

She moved to stand next to him and put both hands around his upper arm.

“Hmm.”

The warrior leader weighed what she was saying, or at least pretended to. It was clear enough where his thoughts were.

“Well, you are a guest,” he then said. “I can show you around.”

A Tanga warrior sitting a bit away from the group chuckled. The blue-haired woman half-suppressed a groan, at what was apparently a familiar scene.

Vanaka and Chull walked together around a wall, and Saketa heard feet moving up stairs. He was off to be alone with Vanaka and her fangs.

She truly was a predator.

The two groups stood before one another.

“Well,” the blue-haired woman said. There was an unspoken but definite feeling of authority transferring to her in Chull’s absence. “We can’t simply stand here in awkward silence. And there will be other visitors before he’s back down. You, you, and you...”

She pointed at Fredrak, Losan and Saketa.

“... are all fighters. But you…”

She focused on Saketa, who took the woman’s measure in turn.

“You catch my eye the most. Are you up for some light sparring? Bare hands?”