“It’s kind of amazing,” Ayna said.

“What is?”

“Almost every stop I’ve ever set foot in has had a bar.”

Golga 3 was no exception. Sure, the bar had been stuffed into a disused and partially disassembled engine room and only served bland auto-brew, but it was a bar nonetheless.

“It’s like a universal law of human nature,” Twana said, and had herself yet another sip. “The... the desire for mind-altering substances.”

The woman was thin, dark and clad in a worn mechanic’s jumpsuit. And a winning smile and an offer to buy drinks had been all it took to make her friendly.

“I mean... only places dominated by the Holy Union don’t offer at least... at least plain old alcohol,” Twana went on. “And even those supposedly have hidden little dens of sin.”

“Yes, well, ban something and you’re only creating a black market,” Ayna said.

“That is the absolute truth.”

Ayna looked the place over once more. It was pretty stuffed, and clearly used as a coping mechanism rather than as a place of any actual fun. But it was old enough that various nods to aesthetics had sprung up over time, such as wall hangings made of repurposed metal. Also, contrary to the stock image of dinghy bars, the music playing on the speakers was symphonic. There was probably an interesting story behind that.

“So, what are you doing south of nowhere?” Twana asked.

“Oh, just... wandering, really. Seeing different aspects of the galaxy, getting away from the bustle, seeing new places, experimenting with food and neckwear...”

“What?”

“No subtle calls for help,” Kavia Sari told her through the earpiece.

“I’m just chattering,” Ayna said to both of them. “But really though, I needed to get away from civilised space for a while. What are you doing here?”

It was a good policy, Ayna had found, to show an interest in people.

“Oh, I fled that whole mess with Volkan Vol,” Twana said, her face drifting away from Ayna’s, gazing at some sad memory. “Like so many others. And, I mean, the war technically ended when his head bounced off the floor, but my home town is still a pile of debris. And I’m not welcome back anyway. And I have practical skills, so I can make a living here.”

“I’m sorry,” Ayna said, and stroked the woman’s arm comfortingly. She did mean it, too.

Twana accepted the gesture with a nod, then visibly returned to the present.

“Here’s to beheadings, and the people who make them count,” she said and raised her glass.

They toasted.

“But speaking of making a living, I do need to... concern myself with that. I was hoping to find some work here.”

“What kind of work?” her new friend asked, and touched Ayna’s fingertips. “Not engineering, I take it. You’re way too soft.”

“No no, I’m no benefit to society at all,” Ayna told her through a self-deprecating grin. “I just have nimble hands that people tend not to notice.”

Ayna wasn’t sure whether the woman’s exaggerated raise of an eyebrow was intended for comedy or if it was the alcohol.

“So you’re a stereotype?” Twana asked.

“Ab-so-lutely!”

The woman smiled.

“Oh, you rascal.”

“That’s me. But, ah, I know what kind of place this is. Is there an outfit here that could use someone like me?”

“All kinds of outfits pass through here,” Twana said. “The main permanent one is Zan-Kiko.”

“And are they a serious bunch?”

“More than some, at least. They do business with that Blue Strike crew.”

Ayna feigned surprise at what the Hunter had already briefed her on.

“Oh. I hear they’re a dangerous, high-prized lot.”

“Yeah. We had one here just yesterday.”

“What?”

“One of those mercs,” Twana said. “Was doing some business with Zan-Kiko, up in their...”

She pointed upwards.

“... palace,” she finished with some sarcasm.

“Is he still here?” Ayna asked.

“No.”

Damn.

“Just buzzed in and then away again,” Twana went on.

The woman sucked in a breath.

“Look... do you really want to get involved with Zan-Kiko?”

Ayna shrugged nonchalantly.

“No harm in at least having a conversation.”

“Harm is fairly regular around here,” Twana told her. “But it’s your call. You can talk to...”

Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

She drunkenly waved a finger at the crowd, seeking a particular target.

“To... to him. The guy with the electric-blue hair dye.”

Ayna spotted the man in question. He wore a light-coloured but sturdy jacket, and a general demeanour that did not match the jolly hair colouring at all.

“My advice is: Don’t,” Twana went on. “But if you do, then be careful.”

“I’m used to predators,” Ayna assured her with a smile.

“These have guns.”

“Yeah... well... I'll be careful, is what I’m saying.”

Ayna stood up.

“Thanks. You’re a pal. Should I buy you one more drink?”

Ayna tapped a coin on their table. Twana looked at how much she had left.

“I probably shouldn’t. But... yes, please.”

Ayna left the coin and made her way across the floor at a leisurely pace, pretending to be taking the crowd in.

“Well, your hunch was right,” Ayna said quietly.

“Clearly,” Kavia Sari said back. “It is a shame we didn’t arrive a few hours earlier.”

“So, how patient are you when it comes to this little hunt?”

“I have ample patience,” the Kavian said. “But leads grow cold. If you do not find out something soon, about where they are headed, then this will mean nothing.”

“And does ‘soon’ have a number?”

“Clearly they are moving quickly. I think more than twenty hours will simply be a waste of time.”

“And then you’ll haul me away?”

“Yes.”

Ayna finished her approach to the man

“Hello!” she said as he noticed her.

“Yeah, snowface?” he replied with all the charm she’d been expecting.

“I hear you’re with Zan-Kiko.”

“So?” he asked in a challenging fashion.

“I’m looking for work.”

The man sniffed, then took her measure for a few seconds.

“What’s your name?” he asked.

“Vaeka. You?”

“Grego. What are you good for?”

“Stealing.”

Ayna wiggled her fingers.

“In the direct, personal way. I’m not that good for opening locks, but when those aren’t stopping me I’m a ghost in the night.”

“Sure, sure,” Grego replied. He seemed to be permanently surly. “Not much call for petty thievery around here, though. Small population.”

“I know, but I hear you’re the sort of outfit to have connections. The kind of connections that get a cut.”

He beheld her in silence.

“Look, I’m not asking for some big spot,” she insisted. “I just want an outfit at my back.”

“Hm,” Grego sounded. “You’re good for sneaking?”

“Well, yes.”

“Is it true that your kind has a lower surface temperature than normal?” he asked. “To help against thermographics?”

“Well, what is normal?” Ayna asked.

“Not you,” he replied. Then he shrugged. “But sure, we might find a use for you. If you come up to our base for a proper talk with the gang.”

He pointed at her face.

“Just mind you, we scan guests for energy sources. So no funny business. No tools past the entrance.”

“You want me to just stroll into your hideout unarmed and alone?” Ayna said. “I’m not some innocent naif, you know.”

Grego smile-sneered.

“Don’t worry. We get enough whoring from the refugees down in the bottom section. Desperation spreads legs and lips.”

Ayna squeezed forth a smile.

“If you don’t like it, don’t come,” he said. “We talk business up there. Period.”

“Ask about a good time and a bad time to visit,” the Hunter told her.

“Well, I am also considering just jumping on a ship and trying my luck wherever it sets down,” Ayna said. “Is any time better than another for dropping by?”

“Make it within the next eight or ten hours,” he said. “That’s when we’ll be assembled.”

“Alright. But, look, your big double door entrance...” Ayna pointed upwards, “... in that green hallway? I got into a bit of an altercation with that little... colony... of people living in those cubbies. Is there some other entrance I can use?”

“Not one we let others use. Just tell those vermin you have business with us. They know their place.”

“Alright. Thank you. I’ll think it over.”

“Sure. Just one thing.”

He reached out and took her wrist.

“Cause any trouble for us, and I’ll snap these delicate little fingers,” he told her with confidence. “One. By. One. Unless you do something very nice for me.”

“Noted,” Ayna told him. “Now let go.”

He held her wrist and gaze for a few more seconds. Then he did let go.

Ayna walked away, and kept on going until she found a quiet spot out in the nearest hallway.

“So, will their scanning reveal this wonderful collar you slapped on me?” she asked softly.

“I am afraid so. It was not designed with subterfuge in mind.”

“And I don’t suppose you’d take it off my neck for just an hour or so?”

“No. And I do not think entering their lair while being watched will get you far.”

“No,” Ayna admitted.

She sighed, and leaned her back against a wall.

“So, where are we at? We do know that one of the mercs passed through here.”

“In a rush. And alone. I am willing to wager that he was having a message sent out to the rest of the group, about the failure at Chukata Mog. And if they know the destination of that delivery they will seek to ambush the Addax a second time.”

Ayna thought about the people she’d spent two weeks with in fairly cramped quarters. They really were a decent bunch.

“I don’t want that,” she said.

“There may be some record of what they intend in that lair,” Kavia Sari told her. “Security footage, or a solid-copy message.”

“There might, yes.”

“It IS your decision,” the Hunter told her. “You can either risk finding out, or you can come back to the ship. I will turn you in, but you will be unharmed.”

Ayna let another little while pass in silence.

Yes, she did have an easy way out of all this, that led to a lousy outcome. Or she could forge ahead, for either a terrible outcome or a good one.

“I’m going to take a look inside that place,” she said. “I have half a plan. And it does require waiting past that timeline of his.”

“That will mean cutting things even closer. But it is still probably wise.”

“I don’t know about wise.”

She let out a breath.

“I’m going to do some scouting.”