Banjin Colle wasn’t certain how long after Temera he arrived on Cobalt 7, but it was sufficient time for her to vanish into the station’s shadows. He was confident that she was going to try to kill Rinn. Part of him thought he should let her, while another part of him thought he should stop it before it started. Reasoning that he must arm himself with information, he made inroads with the criminal class on the station. He casually dropped Rinn’s name a few times. It was always followed by dead silence and his conversational partners losing any interest in the conversation. Eventually, someone coughed up the name Monsell. A little more casual investigation led him to a mostly empty corridor. Two heavies blocked the way, but Colle could see a slender man standing farther down the corridor. He nodded politely to the guards.

“I’d like to speak with Monsell, please,” he said.

“Don’t know who that is,” said one of the guards. “Get out of here.”

Banjin sighed and called out. “Mr. Monsell, your guards are about to get themselves badly injured for no good reason. I only came to talk.”

The slender man didn’t move or acknowledge that he’d even heard the words. The guards both laughed.

“Very well,” said Colle in a resigned voice.

Banjin Colle was a man who appreciated precision. It was one reason why he kept the watch. It was also one of the key reasons why he’d survived for as long as he had. That appreciation for precision had carried over into his approach to violence. He shattered the right kneecap of the larger guard with a wickedly accurate kick. He sidestepped a hasty grab from the second guard and broke that man’s collarbone with a strike that might have pleased even Banjin’s perfectionist grandfather. Both injuries delivered debilitating levels of pain, which turned the whole matter from a fight into a mopping-up exercise. The first guard caught an elbow strike to his temple, which dropped him to the floor. Banjin used the rebound from that strike to punch the second guard in the jaw. The second guard staggered against the corridor wall and screamed in agony from jarring the broken collarbone. Banjin didn’t give him even a second to recover before he grabbed the man’s head and slammed it against the wall twice. The second guard’s eyes rolled back. Banjin let him drop to the floor. He delivered a fast kick to the side of guard one’s head to finish what the elbow strike had started.

Banjin saw that Monsell had managed to get a knife out and take a step toward them. Banjin looked directly at the man, who came up short. Banjin calmly pulled his cuffs, straightened his jacket, and pulled out the watch. He flicked it open, glanced down at the time, and put the watch away. Monsell was staring at him like he wasn’t quite sure what to make of the fastidious display. Banjin gave him a neutral smile that didn’t make the man appear any less leery. Banjin made sure he kept the knife in sight at all times. This Monsell handled the thing like he knew how to use it.

“Mr. Monsell,” said Banjin. “I’d like to speak with you.”

“About what?” Growled Monsell.

“Kalan Rinn.”

“Oh, the gods damn that man. Will he never cease to be a pain in my ass? What about him?”

“I believe that someone will attempt to kill him on this station, very soon.”

Monsell snorted. “Like I could be that lucky.”

“I’m quite serious,” said Colle.

Monsell frowned at him and then laughed.

“Is that amusing?” Colle asked, perplexed at the reaction.

“Oh, no. It’s not amusing, as such,” said Monsell, putting away his knife. “I just think it’d be hilarious to watch someone try. Even funnier to watch five or six people try.”

“He’s only a man. He’s not invincible.”

Monsell arched an eyebrow. “Really? Have you ever seen him fight? I have. I watched him kill a man nearly twice his size. It took Kalan all of about three seconds. He looked pretty damned invincible to me.”

Banjin let those words sink in for a moment. “Well, I suppose it’s no secret that he’s dangerous.”

“I’m dangerous. You’re dangerous,” said Monsell, gesturing at his unconscious guards. “Kalan Rinn is an apocalypse with good manners.”

Banjin smiled. “An apocalypse with good manners. I might need to borrow that particular turn of phrase.”

Monsell shrugged. “Have at it.”

“If he’s that dangerous, why haven’t you simply had him killed in some discrete manner?”

Monsell regarded Banjin with calculating eyes. “Why do you care? Are you his friend?”

“I only met him once, very briefly. He’s an interesting man. I’d prefer he not shuffle off the mortal coil just yet. At least, not before I can have a conversation with him.”

“A conversation about what?”

“Where he comes from.”

“I suspect you know perfectly well where he comes from, just like I do,” said Monsell.

“Yes,” Banjin admitted. “I know what world he comes from, but I don’t understand why he finds himself seemingly adrift in the cosmos. Beholden to no man but himself. It’s not their way.”

Monsell nodded in agreement. “I’ll admit that I’ve wondered about that myself. As to your question, I don’t have him killed because he always keeps his word.”

It was Banjin’s turn to arch an eyebrow. “I can see why that might stop him from killing you, but the other way around?”

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“You know what I do?” Monsell asked.

“Yes. Although, that’s of no interest to me at present.”

“My point is that I’m in a business filled with liars. As annoying as he is, it reassures me that there is one person I can trust when they speak to me. As to your concerns, I wouldn’t worry too much. If you want to murder someone on this station, you have to do it in the passageways. There’s too much security and surveillance anywhere else. That means you have to get up close and personal. Anyone who gets that close to Rinn with murder in their heart, well, I don’t see that going well for them. Do you?”

“No, I don’t. Still, if someone wanted to hire people for a job like that, who would they talk to?”

Monsell thought that over for a little while before shaking his head. “There are too many options. Too many people come and go through a place like this. There are always fresh faces looking to prove they’re tough enough. Hells, you could hire them right on the docking ring.”

Banjin considered those words. He’d become more than adept at reading people over the years. Despite Monsell’s posturing, Banjin thought the man held a far more profound respect for Rinn than he’d like to admit. Maybe not quite enough to openly intervene, but certainly enough to offer quiet, private assistance. He suspected that if this man said there was no swift way to answer the question, he was probably right.

“Very well. I appreciate you taking the time.”

“If you really want to do something,” said Monsell, “just park yourself by his ship. Even when he’s on the station, he spends most of his time there. When he comes back, warn him.”

Banjin nodded, fished a pouch of hard currency out of a pocket, and tossed it to Monsell. Monsell hefted the pouch and gave Banjin a confused look.

“It should help cover their medical care,” said Banjin with a gesture in the general direction of the guards. “I’d prefer it if we didn’t leave things on bad terms.”

“Pragmatic. I like that,” offered Monsell with a slight smile. “You remind me of him a little. Rinn, I mean.”

“Oh?”

“The way you fight. The politeness. This,” said Monsell, hefting the pouch. “It’s the kind of thing he might do.”

Banjin inclined his head. “Good day, Mr. Monsell.”

“Good day,” said Monsell.

Banjin ultimately decided to just take Monsell’s advice. He didn’t relish the idea of setting Rinn on a lethal trajectory toward Temera. He’d liked the woman. She’d frustrated him over the years, but only in a professional capacity. She was just so damned competent that he couldn’t help but respect her. It was also clear to him that she wasn’t thinking clearly about the freighter captain. He’d beaten her so thoroughly that it had wounded her pride. He couldn’t blame her for that, but pride made people stupid. If she was thinking about it like the professional that she usually was, she’d realize that going to war with the captain would only exacerbate the situation. He also suspected that any hope of retrieving the data hinged on keeping Rinn alive. If he warned the man that Temera was coming for him, it might make him more amenable to a nice quiet sale of the data. That was best for everyone involved.

At least, Banjin hoped it was. He wasn’t naïve about his government’s more brutal solutions to some problems. He didn’t want to see one of those brutal solutions come crashing down around Kalan Rinn’s head. Monsell might be right that Rinn was all but unbeatable in single combat, but freighter ships were a poor shield when your enemies showed up in a military destroyer or, the gods forbid, a heavy cruiser. Banjin didn’t think that his government would send a heavy cruiser into someone else’s sovereign space without an open declaration of war, but it wasn’t a guarantee. Plus, he hadn’t lied to Monsell. He really did want to have a conversation with Rinn about exactly how the captain had found himself in his present circumstances. That meant protecting Rinn from Temera's wrath and any knee-jerk reactions from his own government. He needed to warn the man and retrieve that data.

So, he found a not-so-obvious spot on the docking ring in sight of Rinn’s aptly named ship and waited. He thought it was highly likely that the captain would entertain a conversation as long as Banjin approached him politely. Rinn hadn’t managed to stay in the good graces of station security or the world the station orbited by mindlessly slaughtering people on the station’s docking ring. Yes, he would wait for the captain, deliver his warning, and make it clear that he was willing to pay a tidy sum for the return of the data. He even toyed with the idea of asking Rinn to take a less-than-lethal approach with Temera. Banjin was confident that her reason would reassert itself, given some time to cool off. Once it did, she’d likely decide that pursuing a vendetta against the captain wasn’t worth the trouble.

Banjin was self-aware enough to know that he was actively avoiding the question of what he’d do if Rinn proved unreceptive to the offer to buy back the data. There was a very short list of potential options, none of which were likely to leave the captain alive for that conversation Banjin wanted to have with him. Rinn’s story might shed light on how Banjin’s grandfather had come to be cut off from the world and society of Nirren. They were questions Banjin hadn’t known to ask in his childhood. By the time he had known what questions to ask, his grandfather was long dead. He supposed his father probably could have answered some, maybe even all, of those questions if he hadn’t abandoned Banjin as a child. Colle had spent years searching for his father without success. It was impressive, given the resources at Banjin’s disposal. Given how unclear he’d felt about what he might do if he found his father, he supposed it was a good thing he hadn’t. The man up and disappeared as thoroughly as a ghost, taking his grandfather’s priceless sword with him.

It was that last bit that rankled Banjin the most. He’d have inherited that sword. It had been his birthright. Although, by that logic, it had also been his father’s birthright. The difference was that Banjin assumed that his father had sold the sword, while he never would have parted with it for any reason short of death. He’d played with the idea of buying one. They could be found. Warders Under the Night did die offworld from time to time and leave their swords behind. The prices those unique blades fetched from collectors placed them well beyond Banjin’s financial reach. Stealing one had also been a possibility but had proven impractical. People who could afford to buy those weapons could also afford to protect them. He’d resigned himself to the fact that owning one was a distant, unlikely possibility, but he had never stopped wanting one.

All of those thoughts came to a crashing halt when he saw Rinn approaching his ship with Temera. Banjin wouldn’t exactly describe what the captain was doing as dragging Temera, but it was clear that neither of them was happy. Rinn wore a stony expression that Banjin thought was a cover for some deep-seated anger. Temera looked annoyed. At least, she was putting on a good approximation of it. A half-dozen subtle clues in her body language suggested that she was deeply afraid of Rinn. I’m too late, thought Banjin. She’s already tried and failed. The fact that she was still alive was promising in some respects. It likely meant that Rinn was more forgiving than anyone had a right to expect. On the other hand, Rinn was taking her onto his ship. That might mean he planned to dump her out of an airlock somewhere along the way.

It seemed more probable to Banjin that he meant to keep her as something of a prisoner. That was a problem. It would give her time to work on Rinn’s sympathies. It was possible, if she could overcome her anger, that she might even convince him to sell or give her the data. Banjin couldn’t let that happen. This fundamentally changed the playing field, which meant looking at one of those solutions Banjin hadn’t wanted to consider. He steeled himself. He’d known it might come to something like this. He’d done enough research on Rinn and his ship to know who his crew members were. He’d use one of them. He sighed. It’d probably be the girl, may the gods forgive him. He loathed using people that young, but he suspected the ship’s engineer would prove too mistrustful and observant. He also loathed the fact that it would probably mean the deaths of everyone on that ship. Still, he had his duty.