This time when the Compound Interest exited jump space, Marcus ran a thorough scan for Alliance ships. Satisfied he wasn't about to be boarded by a bunch of Alliance thugs, he fired off a diffusion transmission for the bank and steered the Compound Interest into the lanes that would propel him to the centre of the Vale--and a space station known as the Den.

While further out from his normal courier routes, Marcus had done runs to the Den before, and was always surprised at the assortment of characters who occupied the space station. Before the secession, Marcus always found the trips to the Den exciting given it's reputation. The Vale had earned its name after a huge nebula taking up the entire system had impressed the first gate tunnellers, though they found to their peril the nebula played havoc with ships' navigational systems. The Den was built in a pocket where the effects were less pronounced, and was one of the most inhabited space stations in the Alliance. Chase had said once there would always be a demand for real estate next to such a ready-made hiding place.

This time though, instead of excitement, he felt sick to his stomach with nerves about what lay ahead--if he messed this up, he wouldn't make it home. The Den, full of dirt, decay and disease, wasn't somewhere you wanted to end up getting lost in.

The only thing keeping him sane was recording messages for Sophia and Lio, even though they would never arrive because of the blockade. The journey through the lanes against the backdrop of the purple-blue clouds of the nebula out the view ports gave him another chance to record one.

"Hi Sophia, hi Lio--Dad here, I love you both so much." He smiled, tears welling in his eyes. "Look how beautiful the Vale is. Sophia, I'm sorry I never brought you here like you wanted--I hope we'll go together someday.

"Lio." Marcus waved at him, knowing that the words wouldn't mean much to Lio yet. " I can picture in my head how big you're getting. Happy first birthday, you don't know how much it hurts to not be with you. I hope you'll understand someday.

"Soph, you have no idea how much I want to say I'll be back soon, I've got one more job that will take me back to Caxis. I--I love you both lots and lots." Marcus ended the transmission and sat in silence. The absence from his family was a knife in his heart. It was a physical pain that when he stopped to think about--like now--the weight of it threatened to make him spiral out of control. Yet, in the first weeks after the secession he had just tried to ignore it. That hadn't ended well either, so he landed at recording these messages as a means to allow himself brief moments where he could breathe. Only, it had been so long he found now he couldn't sob. He wanted to, but they never came.

When he looked at the clock on his console he found hours had passed. Marcus stood up keyed the recording into an archive containing over 50 messages now, which would transmit once the Compound Interest entered the Caxis system. He left them there more in hope than anything

For now, he needed to rest before the ship arrived at the Den.

#

Marcus took back control of the Compound Interest after exiting the lanes. He brought the nose around to face the imposing sight of the Den--its conical central structure encircled by three rotating spheres of different sizes; its surface appeared uniform at this distance but the closer he flew, the hodgepodge construction of unbound organic growth became clearer. To his shock he could see a whole new arm had been grafted onto one of the spherse.

Mercifully, those that operated the station had set up a web of mobile navigation waypoints to help ships reach their docking ports. Without them he was sure he would have hit some of the sprawlling traffic in the system.

The journey which in a straight line would have taken him about half an hour, took nearer three. With a sigh of exhaustion, he set the Interest down next to a sleek luxury yacht. He grabbed the scruffiest looking jacket he had to make sure he fit in, and patted his pocket to make sure he had his Nagasaki credentials with him.

To his surprise, the stench of sewage and greasy fast-food joints, graffiti laden bulkheads and the array of people down on their luck out on the cold steel, were all gone. Now once he was through customs--a new feature--the streets gleamed with moving ad boards and the same old coffee chains you would find in the Alliance's core. There was no rubbish, cleaning robots crisscrossed across the surfaces. Business must be good.

That left him with the challenge of tracking down the only lead Chase had given him--a place called the Cavern. Marcus connected himself to the local net and ran a search but while he could find lots of glowing mentions of a place called the Cavern, they failed to mention of where it was.

"Excuse me." Marcus stepped towards the first person who passed him outside the docks. "I'm looking for the Cavern?"

The well-dressed woman looked Marcus up and down before walking off with her nose turned up. He tried twice more and got similar responses. Everyone around him was wearing clothes that would be worth more than he earned in a month, and for whatever reason they wouldn't give him anything.

The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

Marcus headed off to find people who weren't so arrogant. Sure enough, after walking for about 20 minutes he left the rich behind and entered an area more his level. He stumbled across a man standing outside a food vendor. "I'll buy you lunch if you can tell me where the Cavern is."

The man laughed. "You got another thing coming if you expect they gonna let you in there."

"Please, I'm meeting someone."

"And you don't know where it is?" More harsh laughter. "Well get me lunch and I give you a pointer."

One overpriced lunch later and Marcus had an address--a district that was at the rougher end of town during his last visit. However, as with the rest of the station, the nearer he got to the address, the buildings became even more upmarket. He turned the last corner and caught sight of a two storey building decked out all in gold. He didn't know what was more impressive, the gold, or that a building that tall existed on a space station at all--they must have cut away the whole level above. Only someone mind numbingly rich would want to meet somewhere like this.

"Can I help you?" A bouncer wearing a deep frown stepped in front of him as he approached the entrance.

"I'm... meant to be meeting someone in here."

he tried a small sidestep to peer around the bouncer's imposing bulk but she stuck a hand out to grab his shoulder.

"In that?" She pointed at his jacket.

Marcus felt himself blush. "Please."

"Who are you meeting with?"

"I'm--I'm not sure." He didn't want to say 'the Whisper'. "I just have this address."

"Is that so?" She stared at him for a minute. Marcus weighed up whether to run when the bouncer stepped aside. "You're lucky, the word's come through to let you in. Your meeting is in the restaurant."

This raised more questions than it answered, but Marcus didn't want to press his luck so he walked past the bouncer and tried to not look panicked.

He stepped into a circular lobby and stopped dead in his tracks. The floor was the same gold alloy as outside, with huge pillars that arched upwards to meet at the ceiling. These golden columns glistened in the ceiling's light, which projected a mass of swirling colour. The walls themselves were a shiny ivory colour which also reflected the splendour of the ceiling display above.

He tore his eyes from the spectacle but could see no sign of the restaurant, or a reception desk to ask for help. After pulling himself together, Marcus picked one of the four openings available to him at random. He tracked down a well-dressed attendant pushing a trolley and asked them for help. They led him through a maze of corridors into a grand room even more impressive than the lobby. Its large windows displayed projections of the nebula and the large glistening chandelier had live purple flames rather than LEDs. The attendant showed him to the only empty table out by one of the fake windows and brought him a drinks menu.

Two hours and a lot of worrying later a woman came and sat down in front of him. She looked more out of place than he felt.

The first thing he noticed was her shaved head, with a thin layer of dark stubble across her scalp. Then her dark eyes grabbed him--they had both a sense of fire and a touch of insanity about them. And her clothes, Marcus stared at the fact she wore overalls stained with oil and what looked like blood. She wore a tool belt across her chest that contained all manner of instruments he didn't want to get acquainted with.

"What?" she smirked at him.

Marcus didn't know what to say.

"Are you just going to sit there?" She said.

"I... er..."

"Oh, come on Marcus." She slumped back in her chair. "This goes both ways."

"Sorry, I--you're just not what I expected."

"Why not?" she grinned. "Don't think I fit in?"

"I--Well... no?" Marcus tried to regain his composure by having a sip of the water set out for him.

"So," she said, and gestured for Marcus to speak.

"How do you know my name?" It was a dumb question.

"They sent it ahead." She smalled her feet up on the table, making Marcus nearly jump out of his skin, leaving mud all over the pristine white table cloth.

Marcus couldn't hold it in any longer. "I don't mean to be rude, but how have they not kicked you out of here?"

"I own the place."

"Er... I mean, how?"

"What? A woman like me can't own a place like this?"

"No that's not what I meant, I--I'm not sure I've ever met a woman like you." He took another sip of his drink and hoped she didn't notice him sweating.

The woman smiled at him, baring her teeth. "I like you, Marcus."

"Sorry, but what do I call you? Chase told me you were the--"

"You can call me Hamasa," she interrupted him.

"Hamasa," he tried it out loud. "So not the Whisper?"

She tilted her head back and let out a long manic laugh. Some other diners turned to stare. "Chase was right, you are a terrible smuggler."

He didn't know what he'd done wrong. "Is that what you are? A smuggler?"

"Don't be ridiculous. I get paid for doing the things that others don't want to do. And when I'm not doing that, I do the things that others want to do, but they can't."

Marcus closed his eyes for a moment to process what Hamasa said. "Where does owning a hotel come into?"

"Neither." She cackled out another laugh, leaving Marcus even more confused.

"Do you own it? Are people scared to throw you out?"

"Who cares? Not me. I eat for free here. Speaking of which--what do you want? It's on me."

"I'll just have what you're having." Marcus didn't have the mental capacity left to choose.

"Risky game, Fenig." Hamasa snapped her grubby fingers, and an attendant appeared at her shoulder. "Two of your spiciest meals please."

Putting the prospect of the impending ordeal of eating behind him, Marcus tried to broach the subject of the contract again. "So, can we talk about what I'm meant to take to Caxis?"

Hamasa raised an eyebrow but said nothing.

"Chase told me I'm meant to meet someone called the Whisper, and... well I got stopped by the Alliance on the way here..." He didn't make eye contact.

"What did you tell them?" There was an implied threat in her voice.

"N--nothing, they let me go after I threatened to set the bank on them."

"I was too harsh to judge, Marcus." She reached over to pat him on the head. "Don't worry about the package, I can set you up with that, but lets deal with that later when we have more privacy. Eat your curry."

Marcus did as he was told and took a mouthful. What have I got myself into?