The market was set up in a cavern that seemed mostly natural. It was a big, bowl-shaped depression, with a hill of sorts in the middle. The slopes and the bottom were dotted with stalls and small buildings, while the hill had entrances dug into it, hinting at a honeycomb of interior space.
There was gravity plating, but it was fairly patchwork, mostly limited to the main ring road around the hill, and the larger buildings. From what Zamm could tell, there were two tunnels that led into and out of the area, and both were guarded by men with scatterguns who paid him no heed. Whatever they were worried about, it wasn’t him.
Contrary to his usual approach to things, he moved about fairly carefully, methodically, getting a feel for the crowds and the environment itself. He saw two little packs of Draid-Sunn, and spotted one of them three different times during his sweep. They were looking for something. It was probably just some part for their ship, or a person they actually knew, but the repeated brushes did nothing to soothe his nerves. Not when he was still stuck walking.
A few people did drift about on little hover-scooters; the sort small enough to fold up and carry on one’s back, but he didn’t spot a seller for those. And in any case, the people using them got noticed, and were treated to hostile glares and words for being a nuisance. And this was no time to be noticed.
He didn’t know what kind of connections that pimp had had, or how long it would take for him or the guard to be missed by someone. He hadn’t thought to ask the three girls, and now they were out of his comm range. The uncertainty was yet another thing gnawing him between the shoulder blades, pushing him to hurry, to get this done, to make some reckless mistake in his haste.
But, damn it, there was so much riding on him doing this right. Just like when he’d buzzed into that ravaged village. Except now it wasn’t a matter of his shooting, but his ability to stay smart.
So be smart, jackass.
He found a Type 1 stabiliser, a Type 3, and a Type 2 that turned out to be a forgery. He let that last one go without comment, not wanting to upset the seller and draw attention. Besides, what kind of fool expected honesty in a place like this?
It was after an hour drifting about this place, and his first repeat spotting of that other Draidd-Sunn group, that he was approached.
“Stabiliser? You are looking for a stabiliser?”
It was a boy. Maybe twelve or thirteen years old. He was very much a local, with the pallid skin and rough, ill-fitting clothes, and a very particular accent Zamm had heard on this rock.
“I am,” he said neutrally. “Why?”
“I know where you can get one, that’s why,” the boy told him. “Uncle is a seller. I find customers.”
“I see,” Zamm said, to buy himself to think.
He didn’t like how the boy just suddenly appeared in his line of sight. He didn’t like that the kid had apparently been following him around, enough to pick up on what he was looking for, and Zamm hadn’t caught on. It was an unpleasant reminder that he was out of his element, and vulnerable in ways he usually wasn’t.
“And your uncle has a Type 2 stabiliser?” he asked. “A real one? A good-condition one?”
“Unused, I promise,” the boy told him. “Come. Come.”
He gestured, in an impertinent way that brought back memories of home and youth, and after a look around, Zamm did follow him. Near as he could tell, the two of them weren’t being observed. But there was enough foot traffic, and enough gaps in the lighting, for him to not be sure.
The kid took him towards what Zamm thought of as the back of the cavern; the direction of the entrance he hadn’t used to come in. And, of course, those Draid-Sunn were passing by. They were like annoying flies, buzzing incessantly around, except these ones had guns.
Zamm just kept his eyes on the kid’s back, until the three men were past him, at which point he risked a backwards glance.
Still nothing.
The boy brought him to one of the openings in the hill. It was at the bottom of it, and sloped downwards a little bit. Unlike most of these, the door that had been added was a good distance in, only barely visible in what little light made it from a fixture on top of a nearby stall.
“In there,” the boy said, and Zamm took another look around. There was still nothing to see, not even the Draid-Sunn for a change, but there were also too damn many people around for it to really mean anything.
He nodded slowly, again to buy time for his thoughts.
This made him nervous. Street crime wasn’t Ranger territory, but he damn well knew that gangs and petty thugs sometimes employed children to help them out. What better lure, than a vessel most of humanity was inclined to trust?
“I need to do something first,” he chose to tell the boy. “Real quick. Just go inside. Tell your uncle I’ll come over.”
“Will,” the boy said, and went down that dark, rocky tunnel.
Zamm walked away. Why go in completely blind when he could just ask a neighbour? He walked to the middle of the street, such as it was, and looked for a good candidate. The smart choice seemed to be to pick someone who wasn’t a potential competitor to someone selling weapon parts, and there were two little food booths in sight. The closer one, the one with a direct view of the supposed tunnel shop, advertised little cubes of tofu.
There was no reason at all to delay further, and so he headed to the booth. Just a quick bite, to have an excuse to exchange words, and then throw in a quick question about the ominous door. Then, hopefully, he could pick up the stabiliser.
He raised a hand to get the seller’s attention, and the woman looked his way. She didn’t smile, but also didn’t look too miserable.
“Hello,” Zamm said. “I want-”
Then came the explosion.
# # #
Saketa stepped into the ship. The three girls were where Lesi had left them; seated around the little dining table, clutching mugs of warm drinks, and being secretly observed by the woman via a camera. Just in case.
They sat tightly together, slightly huddled, and looked skittish as Saketa entered. It was to be expected, and Saketa just hoped they would be willing to stay long enough to be flown away to safety.
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The tall, red-haired one, the boldest of the trio, straightened herself out and looked Saketa in the eyes. It was a clear enough statement, and Saketa focused on her.
“Your name was… Shmia, correct?” she asked.
“Yes,” the girl told her. “Yes.”
She swallowed, and the tight grip around her mug betrayed the nervousness she was trying to hide. As far as Saketa could tell, Shmia was trying to be a pillar of strength for the other two, and she could admire the effort. But Saketa’s own demeanour was having the effect it so often did, on top of their collective frayed nerves.
Saketa didn’t know what to do about it. She never did. This was just who she was; a Warden, down to her bones. A bearer of power, and a well-trained and disciplined killer instinct.
She took a deep breath, in a hopeless effort to seem more relaxed.
“Zamm did not lie to you. Nor did Lesi, nor did I. You are safe on this ship. I will see to it myself. We might be ready to fly in as little as an hour, and then we hit the web of lanes.”
Shmia nodded, very slightly, but it was clear that true trust would probably only come once the trio stepped off on a law-abiding dock.
“I came to ask you: Do you know what is going on here? On this asteroid, I mean?”
“What do you mean, exactly?”
“I feel something is about to happen,” Saketa told her. “Something big. Or at least the people here believe it will.”
The girls shared a look, but again Shmia was the only one who spoke.
“We haven’t been here long. Thankfully. And we didn’t talk much. We had nothing to say to anyone here. But I heard something about… some sort of power struggle. Or territory struggle. Or a gang showdown. I don’t know. But it sure sounded like people are expecting trouble from the inside.”
“Saketa,” Lesi said, in the earpiece. “Get out here.”
“Stay inside,” she told the trio.
“What is it?” Shmia asked, with sudden alarm.
“Stay inside.”
Saketa strode back out, one hand on her sword and the other on her poncho, keeping it in place.
The shuffling and peeking and indecision by the two entrances was over, it seemed. The crowd that had built up, little by little, was finally streaming in. It wasn’t an angry flood, but the tension in them sure carried a lot of potential.
Spearheading the whole thing was a trio of those Draid-Sunn, sporting their weird, abstract logo front and back on their suits. Spearheading the trio, in turn, was a rather tall man with a big head of dark hair, and a beard to match. The skin of his face was a bit bumpy and uneven, as if he’d gotten an incompetent skin graft, and he had a pair of sharp, stinging eyes.
All three of them had a pistol and a chopping blade, sheathed on each hip. The rest of the bunch, about thirty people now, were mostly armed too, to varying degrees.
The big, loud dock owner drifted towards the invading group, but it was a slow drift. He didn’t have the manpower to counter this, and everyone knew it.
“So, what’s this?” the lead Draid-Sunn asked belligerently. “What’s this? What is this doing here?”
It was at least as much a performance as it was an actual question, so Saketa didn’t bother answering as she intercepted the group. There were forty of them now, and she sensed violence in the air. There was real danger here.
“Hah?!” the man went on, gesturing at the dock owner. “Why are you letting this dock here?!”
“A ship is a ship,” the owner replied, and it turned out he actually could speak at a normal volume.
“A ship is a ship,” the Draid-Sunn repeated in a mocking tone. “Do you hear that?!” he shouted, as turned around to face his little army. “A ship is a ship! But this is an Akkian Ranger ship, isn’t it?!”
The group advanced a bit further, and the dock owner got out of their way. Saketa came to a stop, halfway between them and the ship. Behind her, the sound of the repairs had stopped.
“Saketa…” Lesi said, into their channel.
“Keep the crew working. Or at least keep them from leaving.”
The Draid-Sunn leader zeroed in on her, and walked a little ahead of the rest of the group, like the prow of a watership. Saketa closed her hand around the sword’s grip and fixed him with a narrow-eyed glare.
He stopped, just on the border of easy lunging distance, and put a hand on his own blade. The rest of the group stopped as well, though there was still a faint trickle of new people in the back.
“What do you have under there, blood-hair?” he asked. “Under that poncho?”
“Nothing that would please you,” she replied. “Leave, before we spill actual blood.”
“We came here TO spill blood!” he bellowed. “Didn’t we?!”
He got a chorus of agreement from the mob. Many of them looked twitchy enough that she thought they just might charge ahead without a go-ahead from their unofficial leader.
“That’s a Ranger ship, and don’t try to tell me otherwise!” he added, and pointed over her shoulder. “That’s not something a person gets to fly without a VERY good reason! So me and this jolly bunch here are going to take a look! We are going to see what you got in there, what your markings are, uniforms-”
“This ship is none of your concern, and it will leave soon,” she interrupted. “Go about your day.”
He laughed, and took a step towards her. With her other options exhausted, Saketa flung off the poncho. Her suit came into full view, halting the Draid-Sunn in his tracks, and quieting the general murmur of the crowd.
“I said it wouldn’t please you,” she told him.
Then she swept a finger over the crowd.
“All of you! Leave! Leave, or learn why pirate outfits hate my people so much!”
There was a brief silence, a moment of uncertainty and imbalance. Then the Draid-Sunn spoke again.
“Oh, I don’t know,” he said, but without quite the volume or certainty from before. “I’ve heard of people wearing that suit as a trick. I think we need-”
Saketa drew on power, and darted at him with superhuman speed. One hand caught his belt, and the other caught a fistful of his suit, at the solar plexus. Before he could react properly she snapped the belt, stripping him of his weapons, and then she lifted him up in the air.
With the universe channelling strength into her, it was easy. His hands gripped uselessly at her forearm, as his lungs struggled to breathe, compressed by his full weight against her fist.
“I am no trickster!” Saketa shouted, to be heard by the crowd.
With her other hand she drew the sword, and held the distinctive weapon out to be seen by all.
“I am a Warden of Kalero, and I can do untold damage to you people and your home! Leave, and do not trouble us again!”
She slowly lowered the Draid-Sunn to his feet. It allowed her to switch smoothly into a different application of her powers, and she then hit him with a concentrated Push. He flew backwards and hit the crowd like a bowling ball.
Saketa took up a fighting pose, with both hands on the sword, ready to spring into action. Less than half of the crowd had actually gone down, but the rest were caught halfway between fight and flight.
As their battered and confused comrades groaned on the floor, Saketa made it a point to look the standing men in the eyes, one after the other. She let herself slide fully into the warrior she was trained to be; the scary monster who would cut them down one after the other, faster than anything they’d ever seen. Her instinct would guide her feet, and her blade, and the ground of this dock would glisten red.
It had the intended effect, and none of them dared attack, or suggest an attack. Some had the initiative to retreat back out by the entrances, but the rest waited as the bowling pins got up or were helped to their feet.
“Leave,” she repeated, and the sudden dead silence of the dock let her say it in a low voice and still be heard.
The Draid-Sunn leader was semi-conscious, and was picked up by his two comrades. They didn’t look her way as they now led the group back out. As the last man vanished from sight, Saketa turned.
She looked at the stalled repair crew, then at the dock owner. She was still the warrior. Still frightening on purpose, as opposed to a side effect.
“Continue,” she said. “Continue, and finish, and you will be rid of us.”
She slowly sheathed the blade. The little click of the guard meeting the scabbard locket snapped everyone out of their shock. The crew got back to work, and the dock owner turned away, and started shouting at a subordinate.
On top of the ship, Lesi hesitantly gave Saketa a signal that she took to be positive.
Saketa continued her vigil. But the secret was out now, and it would spread very rapidly. But that stopped being a concern, mere seconds after Saketa started thinking about it. She felt it in the energies: The dam had burst, and whatever had been building on Zintu Rock was finally loose.