“They’re still on us,” Herdis said flatly, as the planet Fernand filled up the view.

“Still,” Gaylen said, and spared the bastards a fleeting look at the sensor readouts.

The Addax’s systems were very strained from the non-stop flying, and the pirate ship had to be at least equally so. But still they came, dead-set on reaching the Addax.

Fernand wasn’t an ugly world, as these things went. A little over half of the surface consisted of oceans, and they were even blue. The land was heavily urbanised, with green being limited to small patches here and there, and a fair amount of air pollution spoke of widespread low standards when it came to tech. But the place had never been bombed into oblivion, or suffered a catastrophic collapse when the tech of the First Civilisation decided to have a galaxy-wide heart attack, and so as Nearer Fringe worlds went, it really wasn’t that bad.

It all matched what Gaylen had heard through word of mouth. It was clear enough that the pirates wouldn’t catch up before planetfall, and so Gaylen started availing himself of the local datasphere, comparing and adding it to what he already knew. The local authorities blasted out lines of multilanguage code, explaining the basics of laws and protocols, public services announced themselves, and businesses competed for the attention of newcomers.

“I don’t suppose we could talk to any of these folks?” Herdis asked, indicating the orbiting vessels that were identified as law enforcement. “Get them to deal with our friends back there?”

“Mmm. Fernand’s forces keep peace within the system. They aren’t known for dealing with shit that goes down outside of it, unless it affects them directly. Piracy is… it’s all a fairly complex game, really. Some places and entities have an unspoken truce with major pirate outfits, to keep things within certain limits on both sides. Some ignore piracy as long as it doesn’t affect shipments their own worlds rely on. Some have connections to this or that pirate outfit, but not others. And, really… Fernand is the kind of place where the law is like a layer of ice, over a running river. You shouldn’t rely on it carrying your weight.”

“So it’s all up to us, then?”

“For now,” Gaylen said. “We’ll see how things develop.”

Gaylen continued reading, and made sure everyone else got to hear the most important details. Fernand wasn’t wretched enough to have specific gender, ethnic or religious policies, thankfully, but it had a long history of society chaos that was either only just coming to an end, or simply enduring a minor lull.

He thought of the sociology lessons from so long ago, in that other life he’d managed to torpedo with bad decisions, and compared them to what he was seeing. It was possible that Fernand was seeing the beginning of a gradual process into proper rule of law. As things stood, it all seemed to be in a bit of a limbo, with official institutions paid for through taxes. But companies, conglomerates and other big money movers had a lot of influence, directly and indirectly, and there were the inevitable areas of desperate poverty and corresponding crime.

These weren’t the sort of details that Fernand proudly announced alongside tourist traps, manufacturing specialities and local cuisine, but seeing world after world taught one to read between the lines. And, of course, there was word of mouth.

“No guns allowed,” Gaylen said to the intercom mic. “Off-ship, that is.”

“Pirates, by definition, don’t follow rules,” Kiris said from the cockpit doorway, her arms braced against it as they started planetfall.

“Docks are legally liable if weapons make it through them and into the streets,” Gaylen said.

“Weapon scanners can be fooled,” Herdis pointed out. “We have fooled them, on occasion.”

“Average ones, yes,” he said. “Getting through good ones requires the kind of specialised equipment you normally only see black ops agents, high-priced assassins, and the like with. Look, I’m setting us down in a fairly expensive dock, in a low-crime, high-police area. They’ll only find us if they follow close. Let’s just see what things look like on the ground before we risk arrest and…”

He checked one of the readouts.

Stolen story; please report.

“... four years of indentured labour. If it really looks like we might have to fight for our lives on the streets, we’ll see about getting clever. And Kiris, do strap in. We have a fair amount of turbulence coming up.”

“Fine.”

He followed the planetfall instructions of the local satellites, then the local air traffic instructions; both became more standardised across the galaxy with every year, even in the Fringe. The view matched what he’d expected: A sprawling cityscape of metallic grey and some amount of brick brown, with some cheerier colours splashed on in commercial or richer-looking areas. And, of course…

“Rooftop gardens,” Herdis observed as they flew low over a high-rise neighbourhood.

“You’ll find those almost everywhere there isn’t much nature,” he said. “It’s like people just crave plants, somehow. Huh. And of course, where things are crowded, polluted or sterile, it’s a way to show off.”

“And people also crave showing off.”

“They sure do.”

The air traffic was fairly busy. As a fully-fledged ship, he was required to stay above a certain height, to allow aircars their own space below. Fernand had a lot of manufacturing, which meant a lot of shipping, and of course lots of smaller outfits that made use of people like Gaylen himself.

He followed the signal of a dock that also listed its services, prices and requirements. He made a reservation, and found himself passing over what was indeed a rather nice-looking area, at least when seen from the air. The buildings were tall enough to throw everything into shadow, and not too tight together to turn the streets into a cramped hell. Everything also just seemed to be well maintained.

It was there that Gaylen pressed a button and let out a small, autonomous drone.

Arret Blanc was a moderately large company-owned docking yard, servicing small freighters just like the Addax. A bay roof hatch opened and he lowered the ship down.

He paid for a recharge of the leap-reactor as well as a fifty-hour stay, and signed off on a pledge that he understood what he wasn’t allowed to bring out of the ship. All without meeting another person face-to-face. And then he could finally stand up.

“Oof,” he groaned, as he stretched his back out.

“Maybe try hiring a massager,” Herdis suggested. “One that can stay behind you and rub away as you fly.”

“Kiris can massage,” Gaylen said. “Maybe I should just hire someone else to help Jaquan with the engine.”

Herdis smirked.

“I don’t doubt she’s good at rubbing.”

“Quiet, you.”

Gaylen kept his eyes on the sky, through the hovering drone. It caught the pirates as they came in on a gentle approach. They didn’t set down in Arret Blanc, but they passed right overhead, as slowly as they could get away with, no doubt doing thorough scans of the surrounding area, and its routes. Then they glided on, before lowering themselves into another dock, a couple of rows away.

They all met in the dining area.

“Alright,” Gaylen said, with the other four lined up in front of him. “Clearly they think they have a very good reason for getting on board this ship. Does anyone have any idea why?”

He pointed at Herdis.

“Did you make any enemies while you were away?”

“No no, boss,” she said. “I reserve all my mischief for when I’m on board this ship.”

“Mischief?” Jaquan said. “Come on, woman. You should have seen me and Gaylen before we went independent.”

“You should see me when I’m at home,” Herdis countered, “With my children and spouses, working a regular job.”

“Huh. Fair enough.”

“Didn’t witness any notable crimes?” Gaylen asked to get things back on track. “Or were at least physically close to something someone might think you have something to do with?”

She shook her head.

“My trips away from you guys and back again were perfectly mundane. Just one passenger ship after another. And home isn’t known for its action.”

“Alright.”

“Those pirates who ambushed us, on our first run…” Kiris pointed out. “You let the last one live.”

Gaylen detected a faint hint of condemnation. Kiris had argued for just putting the bastard down in cold blood, as opposed to throwing him out the cargo hold above a barely inhabited planet… with a parachute.

“That was a different outfit. And I mean, from a different sector. I’m not an expert on the Scorchspace clans, but I do recognise some of the names and markings. And I do know that if those animals have a grudge, they don’t outsource it. It always stays in-clan.””

“Fair enough.”

“Bers,” Gaylen said next. “You, uh, eat anyone when we weren’t watching you?”

“Huh huh,” the Outer Fringer chuckled, and his mess of a face switched to a devilish grin. “No, dagi. Not yet.”

“Well…”

Gaylen searched his memory of these last months, for any toes they might have unknowingly stepped on, or for any altercations that could have had ties to Scorchspace. But nothing emerged. Nothing that would explain this level of determination to get at them.

“Oh, well. Let’s just ask them.”