They rode a platform two rings down, and from there it was a single lift-ride to this Undertown place. Polina stayed almost completely silent, and didn’t take any real interest in the three of them. She really seemed to just be a mildly bored messenger drone.

There were no other people on the lift, but it clearly saw much use. It was also clearly quite old, and he had to look around to find tiny traces of a long-gone paint job. Various parts also were clearly not original, and some had been rather crudely made to fit a purpose. Jaquan gave those parts quietly disapproving looks, then smiled a little at himself as he saw Gaylen catching him

There was also a bit of an odour to the thing, even though it wasn’t an enclosed environment. It felt a bit like the one that clung to Polina herself, and the metal sported various chemical stains, or signs of corrosion.

“Polina…” Gaylen said, and the woman looked his way. “Did you forget to tell us something about Undertown?”

“Hm? Oh… there are toxins, but baselines do stop by there. It’s not that bad. You can tolerate a short visit, can’t you?”

He thought he detected a bit of a smug challenge in her, but didn’t care enough to prod Kiris for confirmation.

He’d been expecting Undertown to be some crummy little corner on the edge of the canyon, or possibly a system of cellars and old drains, but for the final stretch of the journey the lift brought them at an angle into a huge cavern. He thought it might originally have been carved out by a waterfall, judging by the drop the lift passed over, but he was no geologist.

Down below was basically an inferior sibling to Undercity Greiko itself. It was maybe as much as half the size of the city’s bottom level, and the buildings were smaller, but tightly packed as they were the population could very well be the same size.

It was also squalid as hell. Gaylen had seen worse. Much worse, starting with his formative years in the Deep Streets of Quentiso, and since then in many of the galaxy’s wretched, poverty-and-crime stricken bowels. But Undertown was still bad in its own right. Many of the buildings were made, partly or in full, from scavenged materials, or gutted vehicles, many of the streets were more like paths that had grown organically around the buildings, everything was loud and tightly crammed… and of course there was the air.

“Welcome to paradise,” Polina joked as the lift came to a stop.

“Which button leads to Hell?” Kiris asked. She didn’t look happy. True, she generally looked neutral at best, but her brows were noticeably heavy.

“Hah. This way.”

The air was damp and heavy, and the ground was soggy and gross. The sounds of trickling water were coming from multiple directions, and it wasn’t long before they stepped over a stream that ran out from underneath a door. On the other side of the street a little Veroki boy, wearing pants and nothing else, scooped up a palmful of the liquid and drank it. He then ran off, shouting at some other kids with the piercing intensity of his age.

Gaylen checked his hazard detector. It was warning of various chemicals and metals, and a bit of radiation, but none of it was at critical levels. Nothing that a cleansing tablet couldn’t wash out of his system. Of course, he wasn’t going to drink or touch anything down here.

“Right here,” their guide said, and brought them past a relatively decent house made of locally-hewn stone, and to a square of sorts.

Several people were present, all of them Veroki. Gaylen had seen nothing else down here. The ground had been paved with more rocks, rising slightly towards a wall in the back. Up at the top stood a man in a coat and trouser set that was tailored to his slim frame. He wore his hair quite short, was perhaps in his forties, and was definitely the center of attention. He gave instructions to one Veroki, who promptly hurried off, received some information from another, and several others had the air of being bodyguards.

The man waved those closest to him off as he saw the trio coming.

“You’re the resident leader?” Gaylen asked

“Leader? Oh, I am just a man who has risen to a position of trust around here.”

“And yet you have hidden eyes in the docking yard,” Gaylen said.

“Hidden?”

The man smiled.

“Now, now. There’s nothing sinister about having contacts. About knowing people. But let’s get to why you’re here. You’re here, because by all appearances you aren't timid sorts.”

“We’ve had to do our share of surviving,” Gaylen said. He kept his face, voice and body language quite neutral.

“Yes, the travails of small freighter crews,” Oleg said. “It is the stuff of so much colourful fiction.”

Colourful reality as well, Gaylen thought, but he kept it on the inside.

Oleg seemed to expect reciprocation. Banter. But he didn’t let the silence drag out.

“My point is that I think you folks might be people I can work with.”

The author's tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

“If you need a shipment delivered, we can talk,” Gaylen said. “But I don’t take fistwork.”

“Hmm.”

Oleg’s mouth smiled, but his eyes were too busy calculating to join in.

“I am not looking to hire enforcers,” he said. “Don’t worry.”

He held his arms out.

“Look around you.”

Gaylen didn’t. He supposed the man was being poetic, or whatever, but he actively resisted taking a literal look around. He was already hating this meeting.

“Jubba-Tar has a colourful history,” Oleg went on. “Bombardments, nuclear blasts, environmental catastrophe. Ham-handed industries, and not a single thought to long-term effects. That’s the real curse of this planet: No one ever thinks about what their actions will do in the long term. That’s how you get half a planet living in holes. And that’s also how you get Undertown.”

“Mm-hm.”

Oleg’s smile was now deliberately stiff.

“This is not a place where a society sticks its beloved, Spacer. It wasn’t always this cramped, but it always, as far back as anyone can remember, was poisoned in every way you can imagine.”

He walked over to a bit of pipe that poked out of the wall. There was no faucet, but instead he simply removed a lid. It was big enough to serve as a cup, and he used it to gather the water that flowed out. Jaquan stepped aside as the little stream trickled his way.

Oleg took a sip, and then swirled the contents gently, like a drinks connoisseur.

“Mm. Tastes of… lead, arsenic, just a touch of chlorine, in chemical runoff aged for… centuries.”

He held the lid out to Gaylen.

“You want some?”

Gaylen didn’t dignify the question with a response, or a facial expression. Oleg put the lid where it belonged.

“The subtypes of humanity tend to follow patterns, don’t they?”

His gaze lingered on Kiris. Gazes often did, but this time it seemed more thoughtful than lustful. Then he focused back on Gaylen.

“Did you know that the Veroki were among the very first Nearer Fringe people to start hitting the lanes, in the ages after the Big Flash?”

“I did.”

“We have managed to spread far and wide, but not necessarily… high.”

Oleg walked around a little as he spoke, but stayed on that top level.

“The crowding you see here is a fairly recent thing,” the man went on. “This is not a thing that happens to a social group with influence, and ours has been leached away over the years, bit by bit.”

One of the sour-looking guards spat. It seemed to be a general expression, not aimed at anyone present.

“The local trade league, particularly since Macario took the helm, has been hemming us in, to the benefit of his personal supporters, and their supporters. We’ve been shoved down here, amidst the city’s other sort of undesirables. Have you noticed, Spacer, how this tends to happen to my people on planets like this? We get the under-dwellings, the sewers, housing by polluted rivers, or in irradiated wastes. We get smog and poisons and vermin and filth, that no one with authority bothers to do anything about. Just stick the Veroki there, They can take it.”

“You CAN take it,” Gaylen pointed out. “No breed of humanity can endure hazardous environments like you folks.”

“Oh, sure,” Oleg said, and tapped the pipe in passing. “But a fart won’t kill you, Spacer. You still wouldn’t want to live with one every minute of every day. You don’t want filth, or vermin, or air that stains everything you own or wear. To say nothing of watching a generation grow up without prospects. Or basic human respect from the rest of the population.“

“Are we just here to listen to your grievances? Please cut to the point.”

“Hah.”

Oleg didn’t appreciate the interruption, but put on a smile, sort of like a sticker.

“You just want to be able to trade cargo shipments and fly off. I can help you with that.”

“How?”

“Macario has gotten too big for his boots. He wants to sit on top of a great, big hierarchy, controlling the flow of wealth and influence like some sort of central pump. And that meeting at the Red Tower is when and where he is hoping to finalise the process. I submit, humbly, that it is also the ideal time and place to prevent that.”

“You do realise that we have no contacts or influence here, right?” Gaylen asked.

“Oh, I have those. What I don’t have is anonymity. Macario knows me. He knows I am his enemy, and he looks at Veroki with suspicion. I was hoping you could go in my stead.”

“And do what, exactly?” Gaylen asked him firmly, staring into the man’s eyes.

Oleg looked back unflinchingly, and for a couple of breaths no one spoke. For the number of people present, it was a long break.

“I don’t want Macario knowing that I plan to undermine his bid for High King of Money Mountain. I mean… he surely knows that I don’t approve of what he’s done to my people, but I don’t want specifics leaking back to him. And that’s why I’m not going to tell you, unless you are on board.”

There was another silence between them. Between everyone in that square. Gaylen felt pretty certain that every person outside of his own trio knew exactly what the man was getting at. And he didn’t like the tension the bunch was trying to hide. He didn’t need Kiris’s input to make his decision.

“No.”

“No?”

“No. I’m not going to get pulled into a fight that isn’t mine, especially not when I don’t even know what that would entail. And I’m done with gang bosses, whether you’ll acknowledge the title or not. So the answer is no.”

That sticker of a smile widened a little.

“Well… nothing’s been lost,” Oleg said calmly. “All I’ve invested in you is a few minutes of conversation. I just thought I’d give it a try. But that meeting is still about fourteen hours off. And who knows when Macario will lift that freeze? Keep me in the back of your mind, Spacer. If you feel you need some help changing his mind, feel free to be in touch.”

“Goodbye,” Gaylen said.

He turned and walked back, and the other two went with him. Now he did turn to look at them.

“Do you disapprove?” he asked, once the square was behind them, and the clamour of a packed slum was providing cover.

“Oh, I’m happy enough to let you do the talking, Gaylen,” Jaquan said. “Also, no.”

“I saw what you saw,” Kiris said. “Just moreso.”

“Of course.”