„That was weirder than a three-headed arcworm.“, Twitch remarked as they walked through the twisting hallways of Binary Bloom back towards the docking bay. His voice echoed slightly in the metal tunnels they passed through, the uneven patchwork of the space station's hull scraping past them like the bony fingers of a forgotten giant.
Red, brow furrowed in thought, didn’t respond, her bootsteps a rhythmic counterpoint to the distant clang of unseen metalworks. Navigating by habit, she took advantage of Binary Bloom’s chaotic layout. No two sections were ever quite alike, a boon to those who knew its labyrinthine ways. Reaching a three-way intersection marked by a tangle of hissing pipes, they turned left. A transparent wall section offered a rare glimpse outside. Here, Binary Bloom shed its pretense. To any outside observer, it would appear as the derelict husk of an old alien space station. A broken skeletal giant, ravaged by time and neglect. Jagged sections of missing hull gaped like wounds, while others bore the scars of countless meteoroid strikes, bearing witness to the harshness of space.
On the inside, pirates had taken over the halls and corridors, ripped out and replaced walls and floors, patched up holes in the exterior, re-purposed pipes and access shafts. It was a station built within a station, growing over the years, though there were sections that Binary Bloom had not yet expanded into. And even the broken, smashed up parts served a purpose, hiding in their shadows the docking bays used by the pirate vessels that called Binary Bloom their home.
The two strolled onto one of the main arteries of the station, a bustling avenue thrumming with life. Most people on Bloom walked, and you could cross it from one end to the other in about fifteen to twenty minutes. There were ten- or twelve-thousand permanent residents and around a thousand visitors at any given time.
The market they now approached was a bustling heart amidst the station's metallic veins. It sprawled across three of the station's five floors, a vibrant tapestry of sights and smells and one of the few large open spaces on the station. Its location, nestled between the main docking bays and the station's core, made it a natural meeting point for both local and visiting merchants. There was another, much smaller, market deeper within the station and catering to a different clientele – the hydroponics farmers and local craftspeople.
The market was spacious, with ample room between the stalls, most of which were semi-permanent buildings with a ground floor as a shop space and an upper floor used for storage. Some of them instead had a small living space for the merchant up top, especially popular with visiting traders who sought to avoid the hassle of separate lodgings.
„Grubs can wait a few more minutes.“, Red remarked as they joined with the crowd inside the market, „Anything worth it is always in short supply here, let’s stock up before it’s gone.“
Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
With a few glances, they had found their bearings and proceeded towards the traders they were familiar with, while keeping an eye open for any temporary stalls that might have something interesting for sale.
They quickly made a deal to get spare parts and hydraulic fluids delivered to the Rusty Bolt with one of the regulars, aside a short chat to pick up the latest gossip. A passing merchant offered packaged food, but they knew the local merchants at the food market had better prices, and until they got paid for their most recent heist, saving credits mattered.
They stopped at another permanent shop at the edge of the market. „Hey Elias“, Twitch greeted the owner.
„Twitch Miller, in the flesh. Ah, and captain Rodriguez as well. I just talked to Ranald and he mentioned that you docked.“, Elias answered. He was a man in his 50s and one could still make out that he used to be more athletic in his past. First grey spots appeared in his beard as well, but his clothes were as immaculate as always.
„Word spreads fast“, Red began, and Elias finished the sentence: „as it always does. Indeed.“
Twitch smiled amused and began to look through Elias’s display. The tinkerer often had improved, re-purposed or otherwise interesting tools for sale. Especially his electronics, which were among the best at the market.
Red, however, had noticed that Elias's normally jovial demeanor had been replaced by a stoic seriousness. She locked eyes with him, and as he did not offer up an immediate continuation, she probed him: „Not sure if we can afford any of your items today. Our last heist was a failure. We have some reserves, but I’ll need to see how much is left over after repairs.“
Elias held her gaze without flinching and let her talk. With the smallest hint of a smile in only one corner of his lips, he checked back: „You can pay in intergalactic credits, not a problem.“
Red froze. Only her darting eyes, desperately searching for a give-away in Elias’s face betrayed her racing mind. After a few endless seconds, she pressed out: „Word does not travel that fast.“
Elias gestured towards a narrow, rickety staircase tucked away in a corner behind his tinkering tools, the faint hum of the marketplace activity a stark contrast to the sudden tension in the room. „Perhaps we can sip a tea and catch up on the latest gossip together?“
Red narrowed her eyes just a bit, then turned to Twitch: „We’ll be upstairs for a moment. Take your time.“
„With pleasure.“, Twitch responded with a short glance sideways, lost in his browsing.
Red began to climb the creaking steps after Elias, leaving the cluttered shop and the watchful eyes of the station behind. She emerged into a small but surprisingly orderly room that was part workshop and part living space. No bed, so Elias had accommodations elsewhere, but a nice place to unwind from the market for a bit - or to hold clandestine meetings. She noticed that the room had no windows.
„How do you know?“, Red started immediately after sitting down. Elias had his back turned to her while he was preparing two cups of tea in the small kitchen corner. She had carefully chosen her words so that she was giving away nothing.