A couple of hours later Gaylen was back to thinking about business. Bers and Kiris were each off by themselves, doing whatever it is that they were so cagey about while in port. Herdis was looking into getting a letter delivered back home to her family, Jaquan was looking into the local shopping and Ayna was simply wandering around. And Gaylen was on his way to one of the local shipment services. There were a surprising number of them, given the population. The Uktena family loved trade but hated rivals to their control of the station. So strict limits were set to any single company’s expansion, and if you didn’t like it you could take it up with the guards.
But if one had the patience to build up a detailed contact network one could still do pretty well by pulling on distant strings or passing along distant opportunities. And that was what brought him outside the bright-blue door of Vika’s Shipments.
Standing there, with modest foot traffic going by behind him, he briefly debated with himself about continuing. As it stood, only those pirates knew he had the record keeper and they didn’t know who he was. Secrets could take on a life of their own if let out even a little, becoming an unstoppable leak. But certain kinds of people in the galaxy needed a reputation for reliability to get by, and Vika certainly had that or he wouldn’t even have come this far.
Oh, what the Hell.
He opened the door and entered to a faint groan of metal. The nondescript, dark-haired woman sat behind a desk that took up almost half the room space, working on something or other. The place was only decorated by a single live plant standing under a UV light over in the corner. Overall it was very unassuming, as it should be.
“Ah,” Vika said and closed a file. “Gaylen Qin.”
“Hello Vika,” he said as he stepped over to the desk. “How are things?”
“Things are fine,” she replied, carefully neutral and controlled as always. He wondered why he was even bothering with pleasantries. “Word reached me you were independent now.”
“I like to think I’ve been independent for years. I’ve just had associates that have disagreed.”
He took out his wallet.
“Look, I just need a simple little thing. I possess an asset that I think Federation Command would be interested in. Do you have a connection?”
“To FedCom? And you cannot simply enter Federation space?”
“I can’t,” he said. “Old, outstanding issues.”
The woman put her elbows on the table and clasped her hands. She measured him up slowly and carefully before indicating the desk. He counted out bills and pushed them over to her.
“I do,” she said. “Though it is a bit of a distant one. Do you know the planet Nokior?”
He spent a moment going through his mental list.
“The one in the Freestates? Famously rainy?”
“That’s the one. I know there has been a Fed agent stationed there for some time. I don’t have a name or a gender or a description. Nor do I have their number. But I do know where you can pass along the fact that you want a meeting.”
“Do go on,” Gaylen said.
“There is a small eatery in the capital city, standing a bit off the shore. It’s called Happy Fish, found east of some algae fields, apparently. And what you need to do is have a seat and ask if Jan comes there a lot. That you went to school together.”
“Happy Fish,” Gaylen repeated. “Jan. School.”
“That is the extent of what I have, I’m afraid,” she told him. “Good luck.”
“It’ll do. Thank you.”
“Certainly.”
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Gaylen stepped back out into the hallway and walked to the end of it. From there it was just a few steps to a balcony. It offered a decent, if narrow, view of several levels of the sector. This wasn’t the best part of the overall station but not the worst one either, so there was no sign of those refugees. People liked to stuff misery out of sight, and all he saw was people going about their daily lives.
Some hurried, probably tending to business within a flight schedule, others moseyed along, either locals or just travellers relaxing within a more generous schedule. And of course in a thoroughfare like Uktena the people were highly varied, in body type, colouration, dress and general demeanour.
Federation ideology embraced diversity with almost religious passion, with egalitarian rhetoric replacing prayer as a show of one’s piety. Gaylen sometimes wondered if all that had something to do with why he found gazing over scenes like this so soothing. Was it just plain old nostalgia?
He touched his coat, feeling the bump of the record keeper. He thought about all the trouble he’d survived through the years and the trouble he’d gone through to leave that life. He thought about gunfights and death marks, and about Vendyl Mars’s last words.
Still watching the flow of people, he sighed. Then he made a joint call to Ayna and Kiris.
“I just spotted two of those Pure Blood vermin,” he told them. “I felt you should know.”
“And where are you?” Ayna asked.
“In Sector Three.”
“Alright, I’ll keep it in mind,” she replied.
“Oh, Ayna, I did spot a small group of your people,” Kiris said. “In Sector Four. If you want to seek them out for a chat.”
“Ah. I might just do that. Thanks.”
“Sure.”
Gaylen ended the call.
Oh, what the Hell, he thought again, then set off.
It was a short stroll along the balcony and down two narrow sets of stairs before he saw the sign for Uktena Safety. It was advertised in various feeds and plain old signs around the station, but this one listed the metres to it.
He was passing through a lesser thoroughfare when a man stepped away from a wall and intercepted him. He was of the Kapadian subtype; faintly blue skin, completely bald, and built like someone had taken a giant and compressed him down into average height.
“Hey,” he said in Larin.
“Hello,” Gaylen replied and moved to step around him.
The guy blocked him.
“It’s tough these days,” the Kapadian said. “Help me out?”
The man’s body was tense, his face too close to Gaylen’s and his tone anything but friendly.
“No,” Gaylen said firmly. The man’s eyes were small and set deep beneath a sturdy brow, but Gaylen managed to stare right into them. “Get out of my way.”
“Come on,” the Kapadian said and prodded Gaylen’s chest. With that powerful frame behind it that little shove was all it took to push him back on his heels. “Help me out!” he added with more obvious menace.
Gaylen shifted his stance, aligning his knee for a kick at the man’s groin. The Kapadian shifted his own stance and his hands went down a little, as expected. Gaylen swung both his hands up and simultaneously clapped them on the man’s ears.
The Kapadian screamed as both his eardrums burst, though Gaylen promptly cut him off with a jab to the throat. Then, as he staggered back, Gaylen did let him have it in the nuts.
People noticed, of course, but Gaylen simply kept on going at a normal walking pace as the Kapadian fell up against the wall. Running signalled having done something wrong; a need for bystanders to notify the law. So he just walked, and left the scene behind without being bothered.
Ahh, life on the lanes.
He did speed up slightly once out of sight of witnesses, and maintained the pace until he reached Uktena Safety. The walls around the business were reinforced and a sign warned that the guards carried guns. The man in the booth next to the door explained the prices to him. Gaylen paid for fifty days. If he didn’t collect within that time he would be charged extra. Once another fifty days had passed his belongings would be forfeit.
Fair enough.
The clerk opened the main entrance with the press of a button and Gaylen strode inside.
This was where people stored large amounts of cash, dear personal effects and surely no small amount of illegal goods. Gaylen entered his particular booth, pulled the privacy curtain into place and opened the secure locker. He took out the damned little gizmo that had landed in his hands, irritating in its mystery and apparent importance.
Then he stuck it inside, along with a couple of other things, and pressed his finger against the DNA lock.
Out of sight, but not out of mind.