Station 26 stood out as a beacon in the near-infinite darkness of space, a sole source of light in the void, so far from stars that, if not for the neon signs and spotlights, the view from the ship would have been a black canvas with pinprick lights.

Around the station stretched the Avertani asteroid cluster and the thousands of mining ships moving around within it. The cluster was the reason for there to be a massive station here in the first place, the Daggeral had opened an enormous mining operation here long before humanity came to the stars, centuries after they'd been kicked out, Station 26 was still here, still discovering new deposits in the seemingly limitless asteroids.

The Galaxy needed lithium, so there was always money to be made.

Victoria had been glued to the front of the ship since we'd broken out of the veil offering waffling comments on whether Station 26 was brilliant or ostentatious. I would have offered an opinion, but it wouldn't have been constructive without context, and I wasn't about to give context.

"PHMS Gunboat Diplomat, we're still getting approval for your landing codes. Thank you for your patience."

I sighed at the message and pressed 'mark received' instead of responding over the radio. Victoria looked over at me.

"What's going on with you and this place?"

"Hm?"

"You clearly don't want to be here. I don't think it's just a safety thing."

"Well, Station 26 certainly isn't safe."

"Not why I'm asking."

I checked the computer to see if the landing codes had been accepted. Longer processing times were never a good sign.

"As your client, I think I deserve to know."

"As your handler, I think I should know why the Meritocracy is coming after us," I answered without looking up at her.

Victoria left the cockpit. I'd been forthcoming with her about most things so far, but she wouldn't understand the history of Station 26; even if she did, understanding wouldn't be helpful on the station. The best thing for both of us would be to keep our heads down, get the ship repaired and head toward Ovigaia before we got tangled up in one of the myriad messes that acted as structural support on Station 26.

On the table, freshly out of storage, there were two guns I'd left half-assembled when we'd been travelling through the darkness of the black. I took one last look at the computer, ensuring that our codes were still pending, and set to putting them back together. Dvall would have called taking out a gun a nervous tick. I understood it as therapy. I'd done it enough times that it was a mindless thing to do with my hands while I waited for news or anything else.

The Nurse, a precision rifle from the human military, was an old habit. I hadn't used the damn thing since Dvall had been on the ship, but I'd stripped and cleaned it more than anything else here. It was uniquely meticulous compared to the other human weaponry I owned. Not the kind of thing you brought planetside unless you'd been hired for an assassination.

Beside the Nurse was a Fotuan Overmaster, a gun I'd never stripped before. I'd gotten my hands on it years ago and it had been a trophy since then. The Fotuan military didn't provide weapon schematics as they weren't part of the GMDA, meaning I wasn't 100% sure how to put the damned thing back together. It wasn't like I'd been keen to burn the energy on streaming a how-to video when we were in the black.

Instead, the arcane workings of something that, in theory, would make complete sense to Victoria sat on the table before me.

Most weapons I owned were built under GMDA regulations, which led to a valuable degree of standardization when it came to taking apart and modifying the guns to break those regulations. The firing chambers used the same dampeners across Anteraxi, Daggeral, Ovishir and Human weapons, alongside some others. Other species had guns I couldn't even fire, like the Thirik's bio-electric triggers.

The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

The Fotuans, as far as I could tell, just built things differently to be a pain in the ass.

After poking around for a moment in the outer frame of the gun, trying to find the clips I'd undone to open it up in the first place, I sighed. "Victoria."

"Yes," she said from the back of the ship, having left me alone by the cock-pit.

"Mind coming over and taking a look at this? I can't quite figure it out."

"Isn't this your job?" Victoria asked before walking over to me and looking over my shoulder. "That's the Fotuan one."

"Mhm."

"And-"

"I can't figure out how this is supposed to clip back in."

"Then why did you take it apart?"

Curiosity," I lied. Anxiousness didn't feel like an answer that would inspire confidence.

"But now-"

"Now it's broken, yes. How would I put it back?"

"I don't know."

"You don't know?"

"Why would I?" Victoria took a step away from the table, "the first gun I held was back on Mythellion, and I'm still- I'm not eager to grab one again."

"You might have to at some point."

"That's why I hired you," she pointed out, "I thought the whole point of paying you was so that I didn't have to do that shit."

"It is," I admitted, "but easier said than done considering the scope of the people who want you."

I heard Victoria got to speak, but she never reached the vocal register. We had danced around the topic several times in idle moments already. The simple fact was that she understood that I was in over my head if the Meritocracy legitimately cared about grabbing her. My not complaining about that made it clear that I wasn't planning on leaving her anywhere.

Maybe I should have been, but I wasn't.

Victoria sighed and reached around me to grab half the chassis of the Fotuan gun off the table. She scrutinized the edges of it before reaching a long finger just inside the casing and pressing a hidden switch. A pair of small hooks popped out of the metal. She handed the gun back to me. "My ship had the same switch for panels," she explained, "not that I did many of my own repairs."

"Thanks," I took the gun back and started putting the mechanisms back into the casing piece by piece. After a moment of hesitation, there was a rhythm to it. Click. Click. Scan, click.

Victoria stayed by my side for the four minutes it took me to slot everything back together; she didn't offer commentary, just presence.

It was nice having someone else on the ship again. Even if-

"PHMS Gunboat Diplomat, your landing codes have been approved. Please approach docking Charlie-Alpha-Tango for taxi into the station. Welcome to Station 26."

"Roger," I answered. Victoria offered me the side eye. "Human," I offered, explaining how the hell roger meant anything in response to the radio.

"I assume that the dock name is human too?"

"Yeah," I didn't know how the phonetic alphabet would translate to non-human languages.

"Station 26 is a human station?" she asked.

"As of recently."

"As of…." Victoria trailed off as the auto-pilot brought us around the station in a wide orbit, revealing parts of space previously blocked by the sprawling multi-plex that was Station 26. The massive asteroid field hidden behind the station tapped against the shields, but just behind that-

Just behind that was the graveyard.

The back end of Station 26 was a pile of discarded and burned hulls from every species among the stars. Broken vessels had been stripped for parts, left adrift just outside of window-view from the Station penthouses. Miles upon miles of wreckage came into view as I got into the pilot's chair and prepared to cede control to the taxi service.

"What the-" Victoria trailed off again.

"It's the rim," I explained, mainly to avoid sending her into a panic spiral before we landed. This wasn't what most of the rim was like. Myhtellion and other planets like it were sparsely regulated, but there was still regulation. Station 26 had been abandoned by any legitimate source of government a long time ago. "We're just going to get in, buy the parts we need, get the repairs, and get out."

"There are so many ships."

I glanced over at Victoria and saw her wide eyes. There were a lot of skeletons in Station 26's closet, and it showed them proudly, but there were places worse than this. Of course, I had to keep in mind that she couldn't have been outside of the Meritocracy for long. They might have had their own skeletons, but they ensured that they jettisoned them into someone else's space instead of leaving them in the public eye.

"It's been a long time. Try not to think about it too much."

"What happened?"

"A lot of things to a lot of people," I half-explained, "can I ask you to follow a few rules when we're down there?"

Victoria nodded, which was oddly receptive of her.

"No questions to anyone but me. Don't say you're on the same team as anyone but me-"

"Okay."

"If we get separated, don't use my name. Meet me at the ship."

"Get separated?"

"We won't, but it's good to have a plan."

"Why wouldn't I-"

"Fourth, no questions about the other rules."

"I-"

"Victoria Station 26 has rules. I don't want you breaking something that you don't know and getting yourself in trouble."

"Isn't that what you're for?"

"We're trying to avoid causing another seismic event on the way to Ovigaia and Fotul. Follow. Shut up."

The taxi pulled up ahead of us; a small ship painted emerald green with gold accents, almost acting like circuity. I accepted its signal, and it started pulling us toward the docking bay.

"PHMS Gunboat Diplomat, we see that you've connected to the taxi. Our docking crews will meet you in Charlie-Alpha-Tango to arrange repair and refuel during your stay. You'll be in bay 4743 on floor 7 of the docking bay."

"Roger."

"Welcome back, Gunboat Diplomat."