The district was, for whatever reason, called the Bay despite being far from the coastline. Much like the Quarter Quarter there was a certain menace to it, but in a more subtle fashion.

The streets were wider and less crowded, and even somewhat planned out. The main thoroughfares were walled in by rather nice-looking business fronts, and a few residentials as well. But it didn’t take much attention to detail to notice the dirt in the cracks.

The sky was in the early stages of darkening; it would be fully dark in three hours, and ordinary folks with ordinary lives walked with a certain caution of strangers. Being strangers, Gaylen’s group got swerved around a fair bit. Although half of that probably had to do with Bers.

And then there were the side streets. By passing them, one saw the facade fall away. They were mostly residential, and even more compact and neglected than the Quarter Quarter had been. The people who drifted into and out of those streets had that look to them; of stressful living and limited means. A work shift was apparently ending, and many of the unskilled workers were going back home into those mazes. Most were doing so on foot, and in small groups at that. For safety.

Kiris and Herdis both had their hands in their pockets, and Gaylen didn’t need to ask if they were gripping their stunners.

The call to the bartender had been made, and he’d been about as thrilled as Gaylen had expected. But the idea of undermining and embarrassing Horruk and his crew helped the flavour, and the rumour mill was now supposedly hard at work.

They were all about halfway to their destination when Jaquan got in touch.

“Alright, I have those extra hands we talked about.”

“And everything’s looking good?” Gaylen asked. He couldn’t help but feel a bit nervous about those types being in the vicinity of the Addax.

“It looks that way. We will be proceeding with the special repairs.”

“Good. How is the view?”

“The view is good,” Jaquan said. “No matches. But you know that’s not one hundred percent proof, right?”

“I know that I know that, man.”

“Sure. Just making sure you stay on your toes.”

“My toes are on full alert. Just do your part, engine-snogger.”

“Alright, gold-eater.”

“I can hear you, Jaquan,” Kiris said.

“Over and out.”

Bers let out that dark throat-chuckle of his, and then it was silence for a little while as they walked. Another mark against the neighbourhood’s pretty facade was the lack of public transport. It was all private vehicles, and many clearly couldn’t afford those. So it took a damnable amount of walking, but in time they reached the place.

It was near the edge of a significant dip in the landscape, which also put them near the continuation of the city’s nigh-ubiquitous raised walkways. The building was tucked a little bit away from the main streets, into something of a border area between the shiny fronts and the hovels beyond.

The front was dominated by a golden-brown colour, and elaborately decorated with arches, figures and other images. And upon close inspection one could see the joints where the cheap, 3D printed sections that made it all up had been fitted together. It was probably a lot less visible in the evening and the night, which took up the place’s advertised business hours.

It was, officially, a gambling hall, mostly for members only, but one could also rent out floor space for a tournament. But this wasn’t the sort of place to stay in business through official business.

A man stood outside, in a suit that seemed like an imitation of what well-off folks wore on this planet, although Gaylen hadn’t been here long enough to be sure about that. The man’s examining gaze, and the general preparedness in his demeanour, was more universal.

“He’s used to trouble,” Kiris whispered as they approached him. “Not bothered by the prospect.”

“Noted.”

The guard detached from the wall and moved in front of the main door. Gaylen waved his hand as they reached conversation-distance.

“Hello. Do you speak Bakiso?”

A curt nod was their answer.

“I would like to speak with your boss.”

“Reservations are made through formal forms,” the guard told him. “Not direct conversation.”

“Oh, we are on a different sort of errand,” Gaylen said. “From the other side of the line.”

“Other side of the line?” the man repeated, with quite a good gambling face.

Gaylen took two steps closer to the man, and maintained a meaningful look.

This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

“The kind your off-hours are for. I want a favour from your boss. Specifically, I want him to connect me with someone. Just that. Nothing hard, nothing complicated.”

The guard didn’t answer right away. They just both stood there, engaging in a silent game of we-both-know. He hated this stupid game, but had become pretty good at it.

“Wait here,” the man finally said, and vanished into the building.

They stood where they were, silent and unmoving, as the conversation was reported somewhere out of sight.

The door opened after a couple of minutes.

“You can come in,” the guard said. He pointed to the lockers that lined the inside of the doorway. “Leave any weapons in there. That includes legal-length blades, and self-defence stunners. And that cane.”

It was predictable, on top of being a reasonable demand for any business, and arguing wasn’t a good way to start this off. Gaylen handed his knife to Bers, while Kiris gave her stunner and cane to Herdis.

“They’ll wait outside,” Gaylen said.

“Fine. Come.”

Much of the interior turned out to be one big space. The bottom floor had a service desk on both ends, and rows of tables in between. A carpeted staircase led up to a sizable landing that held larger, fancier tables. From there two slimmer staircases led up to a second landing, hidden by drapes. From the ceiling hung several large chandeliers, done in the same gold-brown colour as the exterior, and probably just as vulnerable to close inspection.

There were no patrons, and no one was operating the desks. Two men sat at one of the bottom floor tables, playing cards and watching the strangers enter. Another man emerged from the third floor drapes and walked down to the first landing. He, too, watched them.

“Upstairs,” the guard said. “And to the right.”

“Alright.”

On his way, Gaylen took note of doors, blind spots, obstacles and the traction beneath his feet. He touched a chair in passing, subtly testing its weight. Some of the gaming tables included long sticks, but a quick touch confirmed them as too lightweight to make potential weapons.

The man who’d come through the curtain waited, and watched them go. He wore a pointy beard and a red variation on the suit the door guard wore, and from the way he kept one arm slightly tensed he knew there was a weapon hidden somewhere underneath it. They took one of the upper stairwells and Gaylen parted the curtain with his hands.

Beyond was a dimly lit VIP area, with the fewest and most ostentatious tables, as well as doors to the left, centre, and right. Another red suit stood next to the one on the right, this one clean-shaven, with a braid wrapped around his head. He stayed just as quiet, and pointedly observant, as the first one. As with all the other men, Gaylen did an estimate of his abilities, based on body, posture and general bearing.

Then he was through the door, and Kiris followed.

Inside was the sort of office he would have expected from a place like this; Heavily decorated, with the richest carpet yet and a big, shiny desk, carved with either decent lasers or fantastic skill.

Behind it was a man in a purple suit, again from that same cut. He had a weirdly big head, making his eyes seem even beadier than they were.

“Good evening,” the man said in a businesslike fashion. “Inside these walls I’m called Boss Guill. But you probably knew that already.”

He sat in a bit of a slouch that did nothing to hide his sense of superiority.

“So, who are you two?”

“Just freelance runners, making a brief planetside stop,” Gaylen told him.

Guill inhaled through his teeth, and shifted to a slightly different sort of slouch.

“Oh, if you’re not going to give up names, then this isn’t going to go very far. So spit them out, why don’t you?”

The door opened, and the two red suits walked in. They closed the door again, and took up position in front of it. Gaylen focused back on their boss.

“I’m Gaylen, this is Kiris. And I don’t expect either of those names to mean anything to you.”

“No, you’re right. But what do you want?”

“I want to see Vandil Schach, head of Three Stars. Tonight. I’m told you’re one of the people who can give me access.”

“Hmm.”

Guill made, Gaylen felt, a deliberate effort to seem calculating. He wasn’t really buying it.

“And who’s been spreading that around, I wonder?”

“It doesn’t matter, does it?” Gaylen said. “What matters is, can you?”

“Oh, I can.”

Guill patted his purple chest.

“I can, along with a small handful of others. But I don’t know if you’ve heard, but there’s a lot going on right now. The Lawless Black is hanging over everyone’s heads these hours, and so is an overextended police operation.”

“I’ve heard of both of those.”

“Hard not to,” Guill said. “And you want important people’s time, without delay?”

“I do.”

The man fake-smiled.

“And what’s in it for me?”

Gaylen took three slow steps towards the desk. Guill shifted back and to the side a little, and Gaylen heard the guards come a little bit further into the room.

“Listen: I know what kind of place this is. There is no need to be coy. I’m not clean myself either. And I am as certain as I can be that you have this building proofed against external listening devices, and at the very least this room set to scramble recording equipment. So, again, no coyness needed.”

“You’re being a bit coy about my incentive,” Guill told him.

“Well, that’s up to you,” Gaylen said. “I’m willing to listen to your pitch. But my experience is that folks like you always need something done. And that faces no one in the game recognizes are never a disadvantage. So, what do you say?”

“Hmm. There is a scanner at the entrance. I mean, of course there is. It checks for unregistered weapons, but also bios. And no, you are indeed not from here. You know what? Sure, you can do a little bit of dog work. Do you know where Three Towers is?”

“I can look it up.”

“Sure. Well, I’ve been meaning to find someone to go there for me. But the surrounding area is, well, a little bit hot for me and mine right now. I need a physical handoff.”

He tapped a spot on the top of the desk, and a little hatch opened. Inside was a simple datastick.

“I want you to walk in the front, ask for someone called the Rounder, and hand this over.”

“And what is on it?”

“Personal codes. And I don’t mean my own. I mean blackmail material. Valuable.”

Guill put the chip in his hand. As Gaylen’s fingers closed around it, Guill’s fingers in turn closed around Gaylen’s fist.

“Val-u-able,” he repeated, as if to a child. “So imagine how happy I’ll be if something goes wrong.”

“I can imagine.”

“Good. Now, I’ll have word sent to expect the delivery, finally. There’s been a bit of a wait, but maybe this is actually the perfect time of it. They are running themselves ragged, trying to salvage that whole mess… well, I’m sure you’ve heard about it.”

“I have. So, are we done?”

“We are done when you get this done. Then we’ll be in touch, and I’ll get you that meeting you want so badly.”