Zamm’s first goal was simply to get a good distance away from the dock. If the ship got recognised for what it was, it was best to be well away from witnesses that could tie him to it. The Warden, meanwhile, was to see to Lesi’s safety in that event. From their time spent together so far, it was also clear that she wasn’t good for subtlety. And her mingling and drifting through these tunnels, asking questions about engine parts… it would make it all the likelier for someone to recognise her for what she was.

He didn’t have much personal experience with asteroid habitats, but it was just common knowledge, and sense, that big news would travel quickly through these hallways.

Also, just being by himself for a bit was nice. Even if he had to be on his guard, instead of fully basking in it.

The tunnels of Zintu Rock were pretty much what he’d expected. Long-ago mining had done the initial rough tunnelling, and later need for living space had done a sparing amount of refining. The tunnels that made up public places and foot traffic varied, but most were fairly wide and relatively smoothed-out, and were paved with gravity-mats. Rougher side-digs had been used for small businesses and homes, with a doorway fixed over the entrance with highly varying levels of proficiency.

An illuminated sign by a side-tunnel promised a market, and Zamm opted for it. He left the gravity plating behind, and there was that odd lurching sensation of pushing away from its pull and into the far weaker one of the asteroid. It was about one-seventh of human standard, and if not for the low and jagged ceiling he might have amused himself with a little bit of bouncing. Instead, he walked, with one trailing along the uneven wall.

He emerged out into a cavern that actually had the look of mostly being natural. The ceiling was high up, beyond the reach of the lights that had been attached to the walls in a relatively even fashion. It had resulted in a local fashion of topping businesses with a long, thin pole that held up a glowing sign. Some were simply illuminated by small bulbs, some were neon, and a handful were holographic. There were a fair number of them, but not enough to qualify as a market, in Zamm’s opinion. Mostly, the plastic cabins, converted containers, cobbled-together starship parts and rock houses looked like homes.

Zamm started a slow walk through the area, taking things in before he made any kind of move, or spent too long with his eyes pointing up.

“I’m in the first big cave away from the dock,” he muttered into a comm piece set into his collar. “Just getting a feel for things.”

“Alright,” Lesi said through his earpiece. “We’re getting started on the plating.”

The people were exactly what he’d expected, and exactly the stereotype associated with places like this. Outfits tended to be piecemeal and worn, all about functionality over any concern for aesthetics. Plasma may have been banned, but a great many people openly wore other kinds of guns, and blades as well. Ears, eyebrows and noses damaged by fighting were a similarly common sight, as were prostheses, and a pallor from living beneath sub-standard artificial lights.

Still, for all the visible roughness, these were human beings. And wherever its two main variants got together, there were children. Most of those he saw had a fairly feral, undisciplined demeanour about them, but a few of the smaller ones rode along peacefully with their tired-looking mothers.

It was all yet another good reason to not trigger trouble around here.

Zamm kept on going at a leisurely pace and stopped at a few dealers, where he followed the common sense rule of buying from independent merchants: Not giving away that you badly wanted something. He kept his tone and demeanour casual, opened up with a bit some quick small talk, before listing out a few items he was considering stocking up on. A Type 2 plasma stabiliser was just one of them, wedged in between refrigeration wiring and medium panel lights.

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But as Lesi had pointed out, it wasn’t a part that often needed replacing. And so minor scrap dealers in booths on an unknown asteroid weren’t likely to have it.

There was no actual main street, as far as Zamm could tell; no plan behind the layout. He had just done his best to go in a relatively straight line across the neighbourhood, and once there he stopped at an open-air drinks booth.

The drinks didn’t have names, just descriptions, but the woman behind the counter had managed to synthesise a pretty good ginger flavour. He couldn’t afford inebriation right now, but he could at least savour a bit of a bite on his tongue. He liked the momentary distraction. Because the plain fact was that he was nervous, in a way he usually wasn’t. This kind of skulking and undercover work simply wasn’t his skillset. He was a Ranger. He patrolled, he did drops, he transported offenders and sometimes administered justice. The training included a course on urban operations, and he knew some Rangers had more reason than others to put them to use. But as far as Zamm was concerned, a Ranger belonged in a vehicle.

Still, he wasn’t so distracted, or so out of his depth, that he didn’t pick up on the sudden look of alarm on a fellow patron’s face. The man sat a few steps away, facing the opposite direction to Zamm. And whatever had him spooked also had him quickly look away, lest his noticing be noticed.

Zamm could take a hint, even an unintended one, and didn’t turn. Instead he listened, and through the general noise of the cavern his ears picked up on a group passing close by. They walked with a thump, as if they were deliberately being loud.

He just kept working on his drink, with small, dainty sips, until the group was past him. Then he looked, and then promptly looked away.

“Lesi, Saketa,” he said, muttering into the comm too low for that other patron to hear. “I just saw some familiar markings. The Draid-Sunn Circle has people here.”

“And they don’t like us,” Lesi said.

“They do not,” he agreed. “Look, we are well outside of their usual territories. I doubt they can pull a whole force together to hunt after us, but they never leave people stationed. They always live on their ships. So there’ll be at least one in dock. At least fourteen people. It’s one of their rules.”

“I will continue on as I have been doing,” Saketa said. “Alert.”

“Yeah.”

Zamm finished his drink with a couple of big gulps, then pulled his scarf out of the suit collar and put it over his lower face. In case one of the Draid-Sunn recognised him. They had been known to memorise a list of Rangers.

Then he kept on going.

# # #

Saketa’s poncho, extremely plain disguise though it was, did its job. As far as she could tell. She did of course make an effort to keep away from people as best she could without abandoning her post. It required a bit of moving about the dock, but it looked no different from the ambling of a bored guard. She kept away from groups and the other ships, and discreetly steered around people who passed by. No one got a close look at her sword, or a chance to peek under the poncho. The only person who made any kind of attempt was a man who Saketa believed wanted to make a pass at her. She was a bit sex-starved, but given the circumstances she held her palm out to the man, halting him in his steps.

But the ship. The distinctive ship…

Lesi managed the repairs with the efficiency of a perfect battlefield commander. It kept things coming along at a good pace, but Saketa half-wondered if the constant commands and comments were meant to distract the crew from the ship itself. They probably weren’t earning her any love from the crew, but they at least seemed to know what they were doing.

There was, however, nothing Saketa or Lesi could do about the foot traffic, and the accompanying eyes. As the work continued, and hull plates were slowly replaced or fitted back, Saketa picked up on more looks that the ship was getting. They tended to be quick, furtive things, especially if they noticed her noticing them. But some lingered, and didn’t let her counter-staring bother them. And some of those went back to their business, but some left. They went through the entrances, into the wider system of Zintu Rock. Out of her sight, but not out of her mind.

And all she could do was wait, watch, and hope.