More than 40,000 kilometers above the as-yet-unnamed colony, Binary Bloom in its alien shell was still very much alive. The crowds at the docking bay had become more organized, and so far there had only been two fights that had to be broken up. Planetary shuttles were docking and leaving almost constantly. Interstellar transports came occasionally. More were on their way, but Binary Bloom was quite a bit on the edge of the Junkstorm, and many traders or haulers who owed a favor to the station in general or someone on it had to complete their current shipment before they could turn around and come.

In the engineering section, the crew was working around the clock to keep the life support systems of the station working at least somewhat within acceptable parameters. The temperature on Bloom was swinging between a too-cold 10°C and a too-warm 35°C, and air quality was not always where it should have been. But so far they had kept it all in ranges that were at most uncomfortable and not immediately dangerous.

The crew was eager to shut down more sections of the station. The more thermal capacity they could work with, dumping excess heat mostly, the easier it was to maintain good temperatures in the rest of the station. Ironically, the main challenge in the cold emptiness of space was getting rid of heat. With no air or water to move or conduct it away, and radiation a fairly limited means, proper thermal management of a large space station was a science all by itself.

The rest of the administration area was silent and deserted. What was left to manage on Bloom happened in the docking bay.

Nico had had a good but short sleep. Five hours about, by his estimate. Sleep was one of the few things that he intentionally did not track and document. The station, pirate or not, was one large spreadsheet, he refused to add his personal habits to that.

He had put himself into a comfortable position in the lounge corner of his private quarters. The fake-window displays that usually portrait a serene mountain scenery were still dimmed to a low background illumination. On the table in front of him, the upper body and face of his conversation partner were being projected by an integrated holographic display.

„Same here.“, he said to the woman with the red hair, „I don’t want to become a colonist, and I don’t feel like running a shell of a station for years on the hopes that it might make a comeback.“

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„It won’t.“, Red said softly but firmly, „This hypercore, we finally found out why it was such a big deal. It’s why I called you. We got kind of carried away into smalltalk.“

Nico wished he had a drink to sip from. „Go on“, he simply said.

„Piracy, at least as we knew it, is done for. The aliens have developed technology our dimensional shears can’t pluck out anymore. You can tell your guild chiefs that there won’t be a comeback. Sure, most of the crews will move to Black Sails and continue, that station will have a boom for a while. But as more and more alien ships get upgraded… well, you know?“

Nico nodded slowly. „They won’t listen. They won’t believe until they see it. I’ve looked them in the eyes while we talked about it. It’s irrational. They don’t want to give up Bloom. I can understand them, I mean emotionally and all. But I’m a realist as well.“

„That you are.“, Red said, with a warm smile.

„But what about you then?“, Nico asked.

Red’s smile widened into a sly grin. „That’s why I called you.“

Nico took a second, then he showed the faintest hint of a smile while asking: „What about?“

Red sighed. „Oh come on, Nico. Those final negotiations with the Xylars. The items you added at the end. The gravity tech and the map. They’re not useful to build a colony. But as a business…“ she let the sentence trail off.

Nico’s suppressed smile finally broke out across his face. „I need another job, that’s true. And turning those tech blueprints into a market-ready product is both a service to humanity and an opportunity to give myself and some of the refugees from Bloom jobs. You want in?“

Red shook her head. Nico raised his eyebrows, looking at her puzzled. She explained: „What’s your business idea with the map? I belong into space. I know my way around the area, the regions outside the Junkstorm. Most people here don’t. I figure that’s where I can be more useful.“

„Excellent. With that map, we can set up trade routes and not rely on the Felindar so much. Without piracy, humans will have to trade for alien tech. Aethel“, he saw Red twist her face slightly, so he added: „the planet Bloom is in orbit around. It’s got to have some business. Maybe in a few years, it can become a trade hub. Until then, I’d see it as the place a trading company would officially reside. You know, for tax purposes.“

Both of them were now grinning.

„You don’t disappoint.“, Red concluded, „It’s about what I had expected from you. So if you’ll have us, we’ll turn the Rusty Bolt into a trader.“

Nico hadn’t stopped smiling. „Of course I’ll have you. I was hoping you’d call. I need you not just as captain of your ship. You and your crew understand in ships. We will have to lease or buy a few to get this rolling.“