In the end, Marik left Fallerian III on his own, there were no enforcers with him. There should be some in the background on Fallerian VII, at least they hinted at it.
As soon as he left the docking regime, he prepared the ship for the intrasystem jump. He was unsure whether to take a patch or not, the jump would only take 0007. In the end, he decided to take one to underline the image of being a young and inexperienced pilot and therefore he did overjump and was otherwise harmless. He would even apply it during the countdown.
It felt strange, he had not jumped without a taste of 4D for what seemed like forever. And he had been out for 0030. They had come out at the edge of the incoming intrasystem window for Fallerian VII and were slowly drifting towards the station.
"Blackbaerd, well done."
He peeled off the spent patch.
"We received a message, here is the decoded text."
He rubbed his temples, even the low-dosage patch for such a short jump had given him a headache. Then he read the message. It was quite neutral, stressing that the docking had to be at port A22f, in the low gravity zone near the station's nadir. No scolding for being late, nothing. Probably still the pre-recorded message from before he had entered the Fallerian system. He replied encrypted as requested, listing the cargo as 'two crates of spices' and attaching the forward contract for refuelling and station taxes from Fallerian III. Of course, Fallerian VII should also have the key by now and could listen in.
"Fallerian VII, this is Silen from Samur. We request docking at A22c."
"Silen from Samur, A22c has been reserved for you. The deposit contract has been activated and is now effective for 1+5000. Your original flight plan specified an arrival from Hrrst 20456892."
"Fallerian VII, we overjumped and had to refuel at Fallerian III."
" Silen from Samur. We understand. We have cleared a course to follow."
"Fallerian VII, we have received."
The course was a very conservative one as if they did not trust his abilities. Nearly two spiral orbits in the docking zone were quite unusual. He did not care, the fuel would allow it. And the station probably needed more time to prepare. He sent another encrypted message with these details and their estimated time of arrival at about 0460. He added also a low-bandwidth message directly to Fallerian III, just in case.
Still no reply but for normal docking protocols. Had they gotten wind of it?
"Blackbeard, if you want me to do the approach manually, just say so."
"No, I am fine. This is not a challenge."
* * *
It would take less than 0080 and still no response. As they continued to spiral in, there was a constant acceleration of more than 0.1 g. He used this to brew the two last remaining instant soups. The cabin now smelled of cheap Kranta and fermented Gorid, a bit like Fallerian III. He drank the first cup and climbed into the cockpit with the second.
Not all ships had real windows. So he enjoyed the view of the large station slowly approaching against the rotating stars. Blackbeard was doing his job well, the smooth corrections and steadily increasing acceleration did not cause any ripples in his soup.
Their dance around the station would soon come to an end. The nadir of Fallerian VII filled two-thirds of the external view. The engines were already firing at 0.22 g. Then, with a very slight jerk, they locked into the docking port. Only the screen indicated that the engines were off and gravity was now provided by the spinning station.
"Blackbeard, well done."
The usually talkative AI was silent.
He went down the checklist to cold standby on the station's power. One system after the other was put on idle until only basic cooling and life support were left, both running on the station's power.
"Blackbeard, farewell, I doubt we will meet again."
"Farewell, Marik. Thanks for not telling them."
"Blackbeard, just try to cut it down when jumping."
"I am aware. A docking officer is waiting."
So still no sign of his 'employers'. That relieved him, he was not looking forward to a fight.
He took the two crates of spices from the second cabin and brought them to the airlock. The low gravity of 0.23 g meant that he could easily handle them together, despite them being more than half his weight and with his bag on top of them.
The outer lock opened and there was the docking officer, a common Kentera beetle. He was speaking in Standard, in case he was being eavesdropped. "Greetings, Officer. I am to disembark. My ID will be sent by courier, it should arrive soon."
"What's in the bag?"
"Clothes and personal effects."
"And the two crates?"
"Spices from Hrrst 20456892. I have no idea what they are called, but I tasted them on the planet. They are quite hot."
"Open them, please."
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The crates were unlocked, so he opened them and the officer scanned the spices with a bulky device. His final verdict was "Krozt and Yazzotra. About 3.3 Jerrotz each, estimated value 26400. There is a 10% tax on them, so 1320, please."
"Sorry, I have no money. I am waiting for the company. Can we add this to the existing forward contract?"
He took out his childhood pad which Llanaploß had brought to the ship when he mentioned that he had nothing. And even though the officer had his copy of this contract, he still read it on the child's study tool.
"No, not good. I will take it in weight. Sign here." The officer produced another contract on his pad.
This was highly unusual, especially as the value of the spice had not been verified by a third party. He looked at the contract. It was in Fallerian, a normal contract, 10% of the weight for the 10% tax, 0.33 Jerrotz. It did sound fair but he hesitated. On the other hand, these weren't his spices (at least not yet) and if he was going to play the stupid pilot, he should probably agree. He pressed his thumb on it, human style.
The officer was well prepared and immediately produced a scale. The weight was correct, but the quantity looked like more than a tenth. This confirmed the general prejudice of the inner stations against the outer ones and gave another good reason to avoid Fallerian VII in the future.
"Please close."
As soon as the crates were closed, the officer placed a seal over each lid. The yellow liquid solidified into a complex pattern.
"You may enter the station with the spices and make contracts as soon as you have your ID. Have a nice day." And then the officer left.
He was confused. Frankly, it did not look as if Fallerian VII had made any effort to find the culprits. Just to get their profit and be done with it. So the spices were his now. But he did not want the spices, he wanted to stop the human trafficking, and he wanted his ID and, most importantly, his wallet. And he still had the ship's key. Surely someone would want that. But there was nothing he could do, only wait.
He stacked the crates to create a seat and took out the pad again. The educational games were well below his level, apart from a few crosswords. But he was in no mood for them. He tried the news. But after two years out of the loop, most of them were meaningless without more background. Wait, weren't there some books on the pad? Yes, including ‘The Riverbeetle’. He had read this classic many times: The story of a traveller, not through space, but on a river, and all the different villages with strange habits he encountered. The story that inspired him to become a jump pilot. Looking back over the last two years, he had indeed lived the life of the Riverbeetle. And like him, he had not interacted with the local societies. Now was the first time that he had actively tried to make a difference. How ironic that it happened to be in his home system.
He was halfway through the book when the warning light on the docking port next to him started flashing and playing the approach warnings. Only in Fallerian, he realized, although there were plenty of aliens on the station too.
Now the suspicious docking officer came back with a small package. "Marik Llandradroß, here is your ID, your licence and your wallet."
"You found those responsible?"
"Yes, they have been stripped of all their possessions and are no longer allowed to do business with or on Fallerian. Please sign here."
And that was it? And he should sign it? No way! "Sorry, the main victim is under a temporary family contract on Fallerian III. As such, I cannot sign without her seeing the contract. Moreover, there is already an initial contract in place, so I will have to make changes to it with the Fallerian III enforcers. Please send me a copy and I will get to it as soon as I get back."
"Just sign on your ID and be done," The docking officer got angry. Mentioning the enforcers made him clearly unhappy.
"This is a Fallerian ID. Clause 104 of the General Contract prohibits signing contracts based on ID." He was just stating the facts from school. He had had enough of this docking officer. "I will not make a contract on my ID."
The officer got really upset. "You should have reconsidered, my next offer will be less profitable. Now leave the station and go to Fallerian III."
"I will leave as soon as possible, rest assured. But I will not leave without my ID and my wallet."
The officer angrily shoved the package into his stomach, turned to the nearest docking port and stood there as menacingly as he could. Luckily, the strength of the officer's middle arms was proportional to his size, only half his height, and he was not hurt. He was happy to finally get his ID card, licence, and wallet. The first check was on the balance but it seemed that the biometric encryption had held.
Now he had to find a buyer for two crates of spice and a means of transport back to Fallerian III and then talk to the enforcers to clean up the corruption here. Indeed, he wanted back as quickly as possible. Llanaploß should still have connections to restaurants, he could certainly sell the spices. He looked for the next shuttle to Fallerian III, but there was just a daily one, and that had left 2500 ago. He still had the key to the Silen from Samur. But he could not take the ship until it was officially declared a profit which this docking officer would certainly not do. He looked up some short-term charters and rentals.
At the next port, the passenger airlock opened. An old cat emerged, very unusual. Cats were common visitors to the Fallerian system, as their only home world was one short jump away. The cats also had a fondness for Fallerian food and imported a lot of it. But he had never seen a cat like her, black fur with grey strands like an old human, and rather small. Behind her stood another unusual cat, even smaller but very muscular, with short, white fur.
"Welcome to Fallerian VII. The docking tax is 421. For a free day at the station with all services it is only 721 per cat."
"Nadir docking tax is 310 according to the manual. Enter station for 1000 in single day free," said the second cat in a mispronounced but understandable Fallerian.
This officer did not have his lucky shift today. He immediately sympathised with the cats.
"That's outdated information," the officer tried.
He quickly pulled up the information on his pad. "No, the cat is correct, 310 for a nadir docking port. Stays shorter than 1000 are considered transit and not to be charged."
Only now did the cats notice him.
The furious officer turned. "I told you to leave."
"I will leave as soon as my business is done and I have found a transfer."
"Where do you want to go?" the shorter cat called from the airlock in Standard.
"Fallerian III."
The cat closed her eyes for a few seconds, as if in deep thought. "Yes, I can take you there, 480."
That was expensive, but he could still charge it to his contract. "Deal."
"Why are you making a deal with her but not with me? She's not even Fallerian and that's expensive. The shuttle is just 85."
"Because today's shuttle is gone and she will be the fastest option."
The cat in the airlock stared at him for a few seconds with her ears and tail doing funny movements. Much more than Lalleli. "Huh, how do you know?"
Now they all looked confused. The older cat spoke to Marik. "Since you are Fallerian, I am supposed to pick up a chartered ship, the Silent Samul. Maybe you can..."
"Registration #00521/24747/AARRTS#?" he read from the key.
The cat looked at her pad. "Yes, er, how?"
"I flew it under the name 'Silen From Samur', but since I was shanghaied into human trafficking, it may have changed its name. It is docked next to yours. Catch!" He tossed her the key and headed straight for the cats’ airlock, passing the older cat as he tugged at the spice crates.
"Let's go," he said to the cat standing in the airlock.
"Penny, I'll see you later," the white cat called to the older cat.
"And the docking fee has been completely paid in advance," he shouted also, turning to the officer, "and I will report you to the revision if you overcharge her." Well, he was intending to do that anyway.
The white cat was already inside. He closed the hatch by hand. Good riddance, Fallerian VII.