The girl looked ready to bolt every two seconds until Kalan led her back out into the bazaar. Surrounded by people she knew, people who might intervene if she made a racket, seemed to give her a modicum of calm. Plus, there was no avoiding the open market now. He’d need hard currency for Monsell. The loan shark wasn’t the kind of man who appreciated other people creating digital trails that led back to him. As he knew they would, familiar faces called out to him and asked about fresh news. Kalan didn’t have much to offer, but he stopped and traded a few words every time it happened.
Fresia stood behind him, as though she could hide her slender body in his shadow. A few people gave her curious glances. More than a few vendors gave her warning glares. Kalan didn’t react to the former and didn’t ask about the latter. It was simple enough math. She’d likely taken to thieving to survive, but was quick enough or smooth enough that no one had actually caught her at it. Kalan eventually made his way over to a small shop space. There was no sign. There were, however, two men standing outside in body armor and openly brandishing military-grade projectile rifles. This branch of Galactic Rim Bank took its security very seriously.
The guards barely gave Kalan a second glance. He did most of his banking there, so it was rare that the guards on duty didn’t recognize him. They both fixed Fresia with eyes so hard that she froze in place with one foot lifted off the floor. She was so still that she might have been a statue rendered in flesh. The guards hadn’t said anything or pointed their weapons, but they clearly knew her by reputation. Monsell had been right. Kalan did need to get her off the station. He nodded back at her.
“She’s coming in with me. She won’t do anything disruptive,” he said, giving her a stern look. “Right?”
She gave a tiny, wide-eyed nod. The guards relaxed a little.
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“Alright, Kalan,” said the one on the right. “She’s your responsibility.”
The girl scurried after Kalan into the tiny bank branch, and he pointed at a small couch next to the door. She went over to it and, after a moment, hesitantly sat. He waited to speak to the lone teller who sat ensconced in a fortified booth that could probably deflect a meteor strike. When his turn came, he stepped up to the booth. The teller directed a small smile at him.
“Mr. Rinn, what can we do for you today?”
“I need to make a withdrawal. Hard currency, please.”
The teller looked mildly flummoxed for a moment before nodding at the digital pad fixed on the outside of the booth. Kalan knew that most people elected to handle their transactions through the vast digital infrastructure that permeated daily life, but actual cash had never gone completely out of style. New colonies and distant research stations needed cash. They could take cutting-edge tech with them, but it didn’t ensure reliable access to financial, messaging, or entertainment systems.
Kalan sometimes received cash for deliveries to those colonies and research stations. When trade routes opened with new species, there was always a turnover period where hard currency was the rule. It took the bankers a while to work out exchange rates and other things he didn’t pretend to understand. Then, there were the criminals. It was the most open secret in the galaxy that criminals preferred actual currency to digital credits. While no bank would admit it out loud, they wanted those criminals to deposit that currency once the money was clean. Kalan figured that crime was big business when you added it all up.
He shook off those thoughts and entered the details on the pad. He waited briefly as the teller counted out the money into a small bag. She placed the bag into a slot that slid out from the booth. Kalan picked up the bag, glanced inside briefly, and then thanked the teller. He slipped the bag into an inside pocket on the coat. Fresia was sitting exactly where he’d left her. She stared at the guards nervously, despite the fact that they were watching the people in the bazaar. He collected her from off the couch with a jerk of his head. She trailed after him as he fixed his eyes on the place he’d been trying to get to since he stepped off his ship.