“So how do you expect this to play out?” Kiris asked a couple of hours later.

“The trade?” Gaylen said, loudly enough to be heard.

The woman nodded and he waited a moment as the noise crested and then died down a little.

“We don’t actually have the item and they’re not just going to hand over a stack of money on a promise,” he then said. “They might make an offer but insist that we go back and fetch it. I’d prefer we just take a representative with us back and make the delivery on the station. It’ll be safer that way and I’ll do my best to insist on it. But they might not be willing to spare someone, or to go through the effort. But I’ll try.”

Kiris nodded again, more solemnly. She understood. By definition, black ops types could never be entirely trusted.

“I’ll go with you,” she said. “And keep an extra-sharp eye out.”

“I know you will,” Gaylen told her. “You make a good alarm system.”

She shifted her attention back to the nearest stall, and he was happy enough to continue distracting himself in these hours before the meeting.

They’d made their way to one of Nokior’s neighbourhood markets; a rather large one by an intersection, with an actual roof above it, although no walls. Quick meals, clothes, minor luxuries, minor repairs and jewellery were all on offer, although this place seemed to somewhat specialise in small clothing items.

Gaylen went over yet another row of brimmed hats in a simple, mass-produced stall, wondering whether to get one. The hood was perfectly serviceable, but a hat would let him blend in even better and not obstruct his sideways vision.

A small band played strings and some local wind instruments. Gaylen would have assumed they were buskers, but saw no easy way to pay them, so maybe the local businesses hired them to keep a jolly atmosphere. It certainly made the crowds easier to cope with.

Gaylen manoeuvred around them and examined a stand selling what seemed to be dry cakes. Kiris kept walking in the same general direction and looked at a selection of ribbons. It was a bit odd, given how she generally covered up. But as he watched she asked the woman in the booth to hand her a braided red cord, then tested it in her hands.

“Have you found something you like?” he asked as he moved a few steps closer.

There had been a semi-joking comment about each of them getting some minor souvenir, like true tourists. But the joke seemed to be taking on a life of its own, if Jaquan’s focused search was anything to judge by.

“I think I have,” Kiris told him, and pulled on the cord some more. “It’s strong but comfortable.”

She paid for the cord and stepped away from the booth.

“Where does comfort come in if it’s just going to be in your hair?” he asked.

He had no idea what her smile meant.

“I will explain later,” she told him, then found a mirror on the side of the booth.

The Chanei pulled back her hood and wrapped the cord through her golden locks in one of those elaborate fashions that always looked pretty much like magic to him. Then she just covered it with the hood again.

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Weird.

Jaquan came over at a run, immediately shifting Gaylen’s mind to alarm.

“Guys, you need to see this,” the man said softly but urgently.

They followed him past a couple of rows of booths, until they reached a small café that had been set up against a high rise wall in the back of the market. A screen had been set up on the wall for the sake of patrons and on it was a well-dressed, pleasant-faced man with a professional demeanour speaking a dialect Gaylen only understood vaguely.

“Just wait a moment,” Jaquan said as they lined up amidst small tables and the people sitting by them.

“And now in Gyvo,” the caster said as he switched to the language. “This has yet to be confirmed, but only minutes ago we received a report that the Nearer Fringe residential space station Uktena Station has come under siege by the paramilitary force that calls itself the Ulaka Authority. According to this account the besieging force is demanding the full surrender of the station’s leaders. The station is believed to be home to about ten thousand residents and is not directly backed by any nearby planetside fleets. This is the latest act of aggression by the Ulaka Authority, in what has become...”

“Can I offer you something?” the café manager asked, with a certain pointedness. They were within the length of tape on the ground that marked the establishment, after all.

Gaylen silently walked away and the other two followed. He didn’t need whatever scarce details the newscaster had.

“Must have happened shortly after we left for Wembella,” Jaquan said. “Lucky us, I guess.”

“If we were lucky this wouldn’t be happening at all,” Kiris said. “So... I suppose we should discuss how this changes things.”

They found themselves a relatively empty area and put their backs up against a large container. Gaylen withheld frustration, and simply went over the facts in his head before speaking them out loud.

“I didn’t expect the Authority to be striking like this so far away from their other territories,” he said slowly. “But the pick makes sense. The station is a thoroughfare, after all. If they can put their own forces in charge of it, they’ll both make a steady revenue and expand their influence.”

“Aren’t they just overextending at this point?” Kiris pointed out.

“I sure hope so,” Gaylen said. “But...”

He put a hand over his mouth.

“The station has defensive weapons. But they’re for keeping pirates away, not fighting a military fleet. Assuming they’ve sent a sizeable force, the Authority will almost certainly take it. They’ll be holding back because they want it intact. And maybe to push that flickering hologram of legitimacy they like to present.”

Jaquan scratched his head.

“I... I doubt they’ll just go on a complete plundering rampage once they take it,” he said. “The record keeper ought to be safe. We just... can’t access it. For now.”

“And so we can’t get paid for it,” Gaylen said. “They aren’t going to let anyone pass. If they have time and patience and a supply line they’ll just try to starve the station out. Maybe launch a few light assaults for terror. The station leaders and their security are grossly outnumbered. I think... yes, that’s how I would do it; let the residents do the overthrowing out of hunger and fear.”

He shrugged.

“But then I’m not a megalomaniac type. Just saying I think this might be a lengthy situation.”

“And where does that leave our keeper situation?” Kiris asked.

“Probably in an oven,” he admitted, and wondered if caution and cleverness had cheated him out of a major payday. “But that’s still no reason not to make that rendezvous. We can see what ‘Jan’ has to say about the situation.”

Gaylen fell silent, absorbing all of this. The others seemed to be doing the same thing, and didn’t add anything for a little while. The band played on, people haggled and chatted in several languages and the din of rain ceaselessly beat against the thin, transparent roof above their heads.

“At least I got a nice mug out of this trip,” Jaquan finally said, earning a modest smile from Gaylen and Kiris.

“And I’m going to buy myself a hat,” Gaylen said. “Let’s be tourists for a couple of more hours.”