3

The sounds of chirping birds caused Briggs to stir from his blissful slumber. He grumbled for a moment before rolling over, looking at the small slit window on the far wall of his room. It seemed that a flock of small birds had perched next to his only source of outside light. He groaned, placing the pillow over his head, trying to let the fog of sleep take him. Another trill of birdsong put that notion to bed figuratively and literally. He removed the pillow from his face, grumbling at the window’s evil occupants.

“Ok, ok, I am awake. Curse you all to bird hell at this rate,” he mumbled in the direction of said birds. “I guess I am starting my day a little earlier than I intended.”

Briggs got up from the comfort of his bed, his sleep had been quick, and bliss-filled. A rare treat now, but he would take what small comfort he could get. He made his bunk in a timely fashion, put on his attire for the day, and then was out to the kitchen in a matter of moments. As he entered the hall, he reached down and opened the small footlocker, pulling out his work boots. He laced them up and made sure they were secure. He looked fondly at his worn-out and well-loved boots. They had survived through thick and thin with him. Not to mention all the skulls he kicked and fingers he had stepped on out in the Wastes. As he entered the kitchen, he made a beeline for the electric kettle, adding in some fresh water from his dwindling reserves. He needed that cup of tea to wake up, so it was worth the sacrifice. As the water began to boil, he prepared himself a small breakfast, which consisted of oatmeal and a slice of bread with butter. He moaned to himself as the butter bread touched his lips, it was such a rare thing to find out in the wild. He just sat down to dig into his oatmeal, when a sharp buzzing noise caught his attention from the corner of the kitchen. Grumbling, he walked over to the buzzing light, then opened the small, recessed wall panel, it held the receiver to an old phone. Pulling on the handset, he let the cord spool out from the wall, and placed it to his ear, then hit the accept button on the panel.

“Yeah, this is Briggs, this had better be important. It’s early, and I have not had my breakfast yet.”

“Hello, Mr. Briggs? Yes, I am calling to let you know that your electrician will be arriving in your bay shortly.” The simpering voice spoke on the other end, “I am sorry for disturbing you so early, I am glad that you were up.”

Briggs scratched his chin, then lightly patted his cheek to try to stir some alertness into him. “Yeah, I get that, sorry for being so…rude just now…it’s been stressful as of late. Just getting anxious. I hope that…mess I left under my rig this morning didn’t scare anyone?”

“It’s ok, Mr. Briggs, a late night security patrol heard the noise and went to investigate the disturbance. After they spotted the wreck and the body, they radioed it in. It’s been dealt with, and the mess has been cleaned up. We here at Horizon Visions take pride in the comfort of our facilities. Please make sure that you enjoy your stay. Assuming that you have been cleared for access.” The voice had turned into what sounded like a monotone digitized voice. It irked Briggs to no end.

“Well, thank you…for those wonderful words of encouragement… I guess,” he deadpanned as he hung up the phone.

Briggs stared at the receiver for a moment, his mind wandering back to his cooling oatmeal. “Good talk,” he all but mumbled as he walked back to his dining table. He decided to not let that odd call shake him off his game, and his breakfast was finished in no time. He placed the dishes into his slop sink, then cleaned them out of habit. Some people called him the ‘neat freak’ of runners, but everything had a place in his rig. Every bolt, every screw, everything had an order in Briggs’ mind, and if something was out of place, then he needed to fix it or else sleep would elude him.

He finished rounding up the rest of his gear from both his room and the armory. There was no sense going into town without proper non-lethal protection. Every city-state had a different set of laws to abide by, and Horizon-Visions had a strict ‘No Weapons Policy’. That didn’t mean that you just strode through town without anything. He took a pair of his reinforced gloves and a small first aid kit that he attached to his belt. He made sure that his gloves were in place, and everything else was strapped down on his person. The last item was his leather messenger bag, filled with small trinkets that he had scavenged on his last outing. He might get something for the lot, but he was not holding his breath.

He decided to bring his notebook with him, just to be on the safe side, being able to write something down on the fly was beyond helpful. Plus, he knew that skinny Jimmy might try to lowball him on all the goods he brought to HV. That Goblin had pulled a fast one on him once or twice over his carrier, but Briggs had had it. The wall phone rang again, Man it's good to be on the info grid in a city, I don’t have to constantly rely on CB radio transmissions, he wistfully pondered. He picked up the receiver and put it to his ear before hitting the accept button.

“Hello there, is this Mr. Briggs.” the tinny voice stated without hesitation.

“Yes, this is Briggs, pad 19. What can I do for you?”

“Yes, so sorry, this is yard control. We ran all your paperwork, as well as fully checked your incoming cargo. You have the green light to enter the city. Do you have a date of departure?”

“I am going for the usual three-day pass, meaning my day of departure will be three days from now. Plenty of time to have fun, then get out of your lovely city’s hair.” He grinned as he chatted.

The voice on the other end chuckled, “Roger that, we have you down for a three-day pass. You are free to enter the rest of the yard and the city. Would you like a car to come pick you up to ferry you to the purser’s office?”

“No, thank you, yard control, I must meet a repair man shortly. I will just walk to the purser’s office. Oh, and one more thing. I seemed to have picked up a stowaway that dislodged last night. I’m sorry if I made quite the racket last night.”

“Yeah, one of the late-night security teams made a note of something like that in the watch log. What do you want to do with the scrap? Also, do you want the remains as well?”

Briggs thought on the matter, considering his options, then put the receiver back up to his mouth. “You know, I will take the scrap, could you all break it down and take the cut out of my pay? You guys can keep the body for composting, and reuse.”

“Roger that, Briggs, yard control out.” With that, the line went dead.

The phone clicked onto its receiving port, and the formalities were finally dealt with. He walked down the flight of stairs leading to the outside of his rig. He grabbed his ball cap next to the exit door and placed it firmly onto his skull. The door to the outside hissed with compressed air, then he was assaulted with the outside air and light. It looked like it was going to be a clear and sunny day, which meant that there was going to be plenty of heat on the surface of the city.

I need to get this done, so I can get to the undercity, or else I will boil up here.

As his feet touched down on the hot asphalt, his senses were heightened. Now, he had to be on full alert. He started to walk away from his rig until a voice pulled him up short.

“Hey there, are you Briggs?” said a high-pitched squeaky voice.

Briggs just about jumped out of his trench coat, he had not seen anyone approach him. He looked around, turning to stare at his rig. Had he finally lost it? Was he hearing voices?

“Ahem,” the voice said, “I am down here, tall man.”

Briggs looked down towards the ground and finally spotted the source of the voice. It was a mouser kin, no taller than his mid-thigh. The mouser’s bright white fur stood out to Briggs. Mouser-kin fur was generally a darker color. He’d never seen such a bright white, even if it was dust-stained and oil spotted. The Mouser wore a beat-up jumpsuit, halfway unzipped and tied around his waist. On his hip he had a fitted tool belt made explicitly for his small stature, brimming with various tools. The white large ears were studded with multiple pieces of metal; he could have sworn he saw the end of a spark plug. The stained undershirt was the final piece of the puzzle—this must be the electrical engineer the Yard had sent for. Briggs looked into the man’s faded blue eyes and backward-facing ball cap. Then he extended his hand.

“Terribly sorry for not seeing you there friend. The name is Briggs, and you are?”

The mouser rubbed his right hand on his overalls, smearing what looked like more grease onto it—if that was at all possible. Then he clasped hands with Briggs, his small-clawed paw fit into the palm of Briggs’ hand with ease. He shook it gently to not hurt the smaller man.

“The name is Dales, that is what my friends call me, and that is what a paying customer can call me.” He all but grinned at Briggs with that declaration.

“So have you worked on rigs before?” He said, giving Dale the side eye.

The little man scoffed, “You’ve only known me for five seconds, and already you are doubting my skills and the skills of my crew, huh?”

“No, I didn’t mean it like…like that, I just…” Briggs trailed off, looking up at the sky for help.

Dales chuckled, “Look, man, Sir, Runner? However, the heck you want to be called. I was just busting your chops. I need to give you guys a hard time; your job is stressful enough as it is.”

“You got me there,” Briggs said, letting out the breath he was holding back. “Ok, so in all seriousness, do you have any credentials I can look at quickly? I don’t doubt you; I just want to verify that you are the mouse for the job.”

Dales looked almost offended, but he dug around his tool bag for a few moments, until he procured a piece of paper. Its text looked like something out of a dot-matrix printer. It most likely was. He scanned the rigs that he had been paid to service over the course of a few years. It looked like this little mouse-kin knew his way around electrical systems. His eyes went wide when we saw a name.

“Did you seriously do repairs on the ‘Northern Storm’?” Briggs asked, his mouth agape.

Dales grinned and then shot him a big…or was it, little thumbs up. “You betcha Briggs. My crew was one of the last to work on that speedster of a rig. Could you imagine that thing reaching speeds of over one hundred miles an hour? I thought it was impossible as well, however, that thing was just so well-built.” He looked past Briggs, “For one, it was a whole heck of a lot smaller than your rig. Good lord, man, are you overcompensating for something?”

Briggs just looked towards the heavens for a moment. Lord, give me strength. “Yeah, my rig is large, however, it’s nothing compared to the ‘Wide Load,’ or even the ‘One-Stop Shop’. Both of those rigs just about dwarf mine in all comparisons. That…and they have a large enough crew to keep them running like clockwork. With the Long Haul, it's just me.” Briggs pulled out a piece of paper and handed it to Dales. “This is the repair fund I have set up here in HV. I have a good amount portioned off for new electrical work, been putting it off every dang time I set foot in a City-State. Now it's time for me to bite the bullet…sort of.” He pointed back to his rig. “There are well-labeled hatches, ducts, and connectors that need to be replaced with 230 Kilovolt, double-coated cable. I know what you are going to say, ‘Mr. Briggs, that is some serious hardware you are asking for’. Then I am going to reply with ‘My rig my rules, get it done’. So, let's spare each other the witty banter and just get down to business.” He paused, letting it all sink in. “So, I need this done in two days tops, I don’t want to stay here any longer than I have to.” Dales’ eyes grew as wide as saucers. “Don’t give me that look, I was told I needed a top-level electrical engineer, and I think you’re the guy for the job. Take more money out of the account if you must, but there is a cap on the funds. Hire more workers if it comes down to it. Just get the dang job done in two days. You hear me?”

Dales said nothing for a long couple of heartbeats, then he saluted Briggs. “On it,” he all but shouted in his mousey tone. In the blink of an eye, he was gone, running back into the shade of the dockyard.

I hope that I made the right call with that one, I really needed this overhaul. It’s too much work for just one mouse to get done. He sighed, oh well, I have things to do, and a city to get to.

Briggs turned towards the processing center for new arrivals. The small, squat building almost blended in with the twelve-foot-high wall surrounding the yard. He only had one more hurdle to get through, then he was home free.

The automatic doors opened as soon as he approached them, the wide glass doors let a tantalizing rush of cool air hit him in the chest. He took a deep breath and let it out. It had been a few weeks since he last felt the comfort of air conditioning. The polished marble floors shined at him, showing off an inverted reflection of himself as he walked across the concourse. There were a lot of people milling about in this space. It looked like a combination of many species, not to mention job classifications. He saw two men arguing over a job posting, a young fox-kin boy eating a sandwich and two elderly women were looking over a book of some sort. Everyone was occupied or busy in the Yard processing center. There were only so many hours of daylight you could use before it was time for the lights to go out.

Briggs approached one of the many cage-looking desk areas. Every City-State had one and were a part of the entry process. He saw that he was approaching a desk operated by a petite, yet attractive young fox-kin female. Her pointed ears were straddled around a peaked cap, the golden letters of HV embroidered on the front brim. Her well-ironed uniform stood out to him among the field of worn and weary workers. He put his palms on the counter just as she looked up from a screen hidden from his view. She put on an award-winning smile—that seemed to be bred into all customer service workers, her sharp white canines throwing Briggs off his game for a moment.

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“Hello there sir, how may I be of assistance today?” Her bubbly voice all but oozed.

“Er…hi there, I was told I was cleared for entry from Yard Control, I am here to get my record book stamped.” Briggs motioned to his pocket, pulling out a well-used, passport-sized ID. He handed it to the woman under a small slit in the bars of the desk. She picked it up and opened it, after getting to the last page she frowned for a moment.

“Sir, it appears that this ID has just reached its maximum usage, so we will happily provide you with a new one.”

Briggs rubbed his face, “I guess that can’t be helped, I must adhere to protocol. So how long is this going to take? Hours? Days? You know, us Runners don’t really have that kind of time.”

“No sir, we will take your photo in just a moment, and a new ID will be issued to you in less than 30 minutes. Until then, you could walk around our beautiful concourse. Courtesy of the new Mayor of HV.”

Briggs looked around the concourse, and due to his haste in getting to the other side, he finally took it all in. The polished floors led to a water feature that dominated the center of the room, on either side of the feature, small patches of green grass grew. There were a few small statues placed here and there, along with several small benches for people to sit upon. The one thing that caught his attention was a black pillar that dominated the far corner. He pointed over to it.

“So, miss, what is that?”

“Oh, that?” The woman said, her typing coming to a brief halt. “That is the new memorial statue that Mayor Victoria put up. It’s a memorial marker for all the Runners and support staff that have lost their lives in service to the eternal survival of intelligent life.”

“Well…that is very…noble of her. I personally think of it as just doing a job that needs doing. Nothing more, nothing less to be honest. I am glad that some people could at least appreciate the things we all do.”

The woman continued to type, her attention fully on the screen, then she paused to look up at Briggs.

“Please stand over on the white square and remove your hat.”

Briggs obliged with the request, removing his hat and running his hand through his short hair. He hoped that might make him look a little presentable at least.

“Good, thank you,” she pressed a few more buttons. “Now on the count of three, please look into the camera, no smiling.”

She did the usual count down to three, and Briggs kept his laconic expression plastered on his face. A flash of the camera denoted the picture process, and it left stars dancing in his eyes. He rubbed at them as he stood back in front of the counter. The woman continued to type for a few more seconds. Then smiled at him.

“We are currently processing your application, sir, so feel free to wait wherever you wish.”

Briggs nodded and headed towards the other corner of the concourse; he might as well get his pay for the run. That, however, meant talking to Skinny Jimmy.

******

The purser's office was nothing special to speak of. It was one of the older parts of the building, and it looked like gentrification had yet to touch this corner of the concourse. The sign read, ‘Jimmy’s imports and exports’. Briggs tried to contain a snort, but it still came out anyway. The two large doors opened into the recessed wall, letting slightly warmer air into the large room. Briggs put his hat back on and stepped into the mild heat.

The first thing that always assaulted him when walking into this office was the smell. A combination of musty books, spoiled food, and spilled gasoline. He was still unsure about the latter, but he had a feeling there was a backup generator somewhere on the property. A few goblins darted to and fro, going in between the larger stacks of well-organized books. A sharp but deep voice echoed from the back rooms, and it made Briggs grit his teeth.

“I don’t know who you are, or why you decided to come in, but come back later. I am in the middle of an audit by our new and illustrious city mayor. So, I am up to my ass crack in backlogs. Come by in like…forty years.”

Briggs cleared his throat, burying his annoyance. “That’s a dang shame there, Jimmy. You know, if I go and report this to the local union guild, they might just revoke your license to deal with Runners.”

There was a sudden shuffle of papers, some light swearing, and then the sound of rapid footsteps. The counter directly in front of him started to shake violently, punctuated by a series of wheezing grunts. Then Jimmy’s bald head came into view, followed by the rest of the repugnant goblin. He wore standard work overalls, accented with random shiny baubles on the sleeves and collar. He was rather fat for a goblin, which played into his moniker quite well. His dark, flinty eyes stared holes into Briggs for a moment, then he pulled on a rope to bring a stool up to the top of the counter. Setting it down, the fat goblin plopped onto it unceremoniously. He pulled out the burnt end of a cigar before trying to light it. Briggs rolled his eyes internally before giving up and reaching for the lighter that Jimmy was using. Jimmy handed it to Briggs with a slight nod. He shook the lighter a few times, then using the flint wheel, lit the stogie for Jimmy. The goblin took a long inhale before breathing it out behind him.

“Well…well, if it isn’t Mr. Big Shot Runner, in the flesh. So, what the hell can I do for you? Or are you just here for a social call?” Jimmy always cut straight to the chase, which was one of the few redeeming qualities that Briggs enjoyed.

“I am here, Jimmy, so I can get paid for this run I just did. I handed off the goods to a dockhand named Hammond. He verified the cargo at a ninety-eight percent rate, so I am here to collect what I am owed.”

Jimmy rubbed his chin, then snapped his fingers loudly. A timid-looking goblin woman in rags came in from behind Briggs, passing behind the counter and handing Jimmy a thick book. Briggs grimaced at the poor goblin female. Goblin society, being what it was, looked down on their females. Their hard work was expected and underappreciated by the opposite sex. Most of the time they were used as: housekeeping staff, cooks, cleaners, couriers, and in the worst cases—broodmares. Not to mention, Jimmy was most likely skimming money off the top. Briggs doubted any of his clerk staff saw a dime. A waft of unwashed body odor assaulted Briggs' nose, he pulled up his scarf to cover his olfactory organ. These poor girls hadn’t even bathed recently, judging by the smell of things. Jimmy opened the book and shooed away the small, eye-catching goblin. She kept her eyes on the ground as she darted back into the pile of books. With a cough, a snort, and a shuffling of papers, Jimmy looked through the book.

“So, Jimmy, the suspense is killing me. What’s my haul worth, I don’t have all day,” Briggs stated dryly.

Jimmy pulled out a small pocket calculator, then his spidery fingers were a blur over the numeric pad. He grunted and grumbled to himself, then spun the calculator around to face Briggs. Briggs picked it up and stared at the credit line.

“You must be joking, I checked the numbers last night, Jimmy, this is way off the mark. Like we are talking hundreds of creds off. Did you hit your head or something this morning? Wake up on the wrong side of the bed?”

Jimmy chuckled, “No, the numbers aren’t wrong, bucko. I checked the sheets this morning: the cost of stocking your goods, transportation fee, and the surcharges for making sure that the goods were what we needed. Not to mention, the cost of taking up my precious time,” he paused as he scrunched up his face at Briggs. “On top of that, the fee for taking universal credits instead of city credits.” He shrugged, “It all adds up, you know that.”

Briggs tightened his hands so hard he felt the knuckles pop in both hands, which had the bonus of pulling Jimmy’s eyes down toward his gloves. The goblin looked around for a moment before a broad grin lit up his little green face. Jimmy put his hands out in a placating gesture, patting the air.

“Look, Briggs, I know you’re pissed. Hell, I would be too if I ran through that storm, and into a brigand blockade. Then after all of that, I get lowballed by the pricing market. It’s a shame, it really is.” Jimmy all but simpered and wheedled.

“I guess that’s just the way the numbers fall then, I suppose,” Briggs lamented, then raised a finger up to the sky. “Or I could expose the fact that you have been doing some shady business as of late, and we could see what security has to say.”

Jimmy’s face turned a darker shade of green, a small growl forming in the back of his throat. “Listen here, you little waste-piece of trash.” A stubby hand slapped his rotund chest. “I run this office. In fact, I run most of this fucking yard! You got some balls, if you think you can come in here and drag my name through the mud.” He leaned forward over the counter. “Go on, go talk to security, talk to any damn person in the yard you like. But here’s my promise. When I’m done, you will never do business in HV again. Do you hear me?”

Briggs opened the flap to his messenger bag, pulling out something wrapped in cloth. He dropped it on the counter, the noise it made drew many eyes away from their tasks. Jimmy looked down at the offensive thing.

“Do me a favor, Jimmy, tell me what that is.”

Jimmy blinked a little puzzled, but lifted the cloth and unwrapped it. A small, dull-looking metal rock gleamed in the daylight. He turned it over, looked at it from every angle, and then shrugged back at Briggs.

“Ok, you got me. What the hell is this and why should I care?”

Briggs shrugged his shoulders, “I’m not sure Jimmy, it was the last major shipment that I took from HV about six months ago. It was sanctioned and inspected by your office.” Briggs pulled out a small piece of paper. It was neatly folded. He showed the inner fold, stamped with Jimmy’s seal. Then he unfolded it. It was a cargo manifest order for fifty tons of high-quality iron scraps, to be transported to City-State ‘Elohim’. Briggs saw when Jimmy’s face started to go pale. It brought a small, wicked smile to his face. “So, what I think,” Briggs continued, “is that you swapped the iron crates with low-grade pig iron. Who would notice, right? They weigh the same, they look almost the same, and in the end—who’s going to notice?

Jimmy was all but sweating at this point, he looked like he wanted to throw that piece of evidence into a waste bin. Briggs noticed Jimmy’s beady eyes as they bore into that little rock, thoughts and emotions flashing over his face.

“Oh, and before you think about getting rid of the evidence. It’s yours to keep. I have tons more back on my rig—well, not tons. Not like the tons you tried to get me to shift for you. Just enough to send you outside the walls of HV for the rest of your short and miserable life.”

Jimmy was shaking, the rock tumbling out of his hand to clatter on the floor.

“You're lying,” his little voice wavered. “You would never do that, there would be a hearing. You would be indicted for this as well. You may not have been an accomplice to my crimes, but you did the job. I am not the one at fault here, you know that.”

Briggs’ hands blurred as he grabbed onto Jimmy’s overalls. He lifted the man cleanly off the counter, letting his short goblin feet dangle in the air. Briggs pulled Jimmy up to eye level, snarling in his face.

“I might be indicted, but I won’t be the one to hang for this, Jimmy. You think you are so slick, but did you even bother to read the Runner’s Union Handbook? Paragraph six, subsection three, and I quote. ‘All runners will be absolved of all wrongdoings pertaining to cargo if the inspection seal has not been tampered with at the time of delivery.’ Meaning, if I get the item to where it needs to go, unopened, and undamaged, the liability falls to the entity that signed off on the cargo. That…would…be…you.” He punctuated the final bit by shaking the goblin. “You know what that iron was going to be used for? Can you even fathom what you did? That if you switched something as valuable as iron, somewhere down the line, someone was going to suffer because of it!”

Jimmy’s eyes were wide—terrified of this new information. He took a shaky breath, trying to steady his breathing. He failed. “Look, Briggs, can we work something out? I-I know you are a reasonable man.” He licked dry lips, desperation clear in his voice. “What if I give you the full price of your goods, city rates, you won’t lose any market value for Universal Creds. It’s a win-win-win, for everyone.”

Briggs set the goblin down, making a show of dusting him off. “You never did answer my question, Jimmy.”

“Question?”

“Yeah, my question. What do you think that the shipment of iron was going to be used for?” Briggs’ voice teetered on quiet fury.

“I can only guess, something important?”

“Yeah, you could say that the Elohim government wanted to use the iron to reinforce their irrigation system. You know…the thing that allows the measly crops to grow in this otherwise inhospitable world? It’s kind of a big deal.”

Jimmy had gone silent. He looked over his shoulder, his mind warring with his flight or fight response. The room was just as quiet. Briggs could see Jimmy’s attentive staff were terrified and trying to look as small as possible. Briggs almost heard the goblin swallow, then Jimmy took a shuddering breath, steadying his nerves.

“So… Briggs, where do…” Sweat trickled down the side of his green face. “Where do we go from here?”

“It’s quite simple, actually,” he said, as he placed his hands on the countertop. “You are going to do two things, Jimmy. One: I want you to pay me for not only what I brought in today, but also the amount of money that was lost on that iron shipment. Two: I want you to go to the main security office and explain to them in immaculate detail what you have been up to. All of it. If you don’t, by the time I leave here in a few days. I will be taking you on as cargo. Trust me, it won’t be hard. Then I will toss your green ass out in the Wastes, to die in the heat. Do. You. Understand. Me.” He punctuated the final words by jabbing the goblin in the chest. Jimmy nodded frantically, then turned around to his crew.

“You lot, get into my safe in the back, it's open. Bring me three faded yellow bags, and one gold-looking one. Get to it, right now!” Jimmy screeched, his voice regaining some of his original strength. “Double time!”

Briggs looked Jimmy in the eye, noting that he saw the eyes of a man who knew the jig was up. He felt a little bad for the Goblin, which lasted all of a nanosecond, thinking of all the other Runners he had ripped off in the past. The lives of innocent civilians he had put at risk with his skimming operation. Who knew the true depths of Jimmy’s machinations if Briggs hadn’t caught on. He hoped that his threat would sort the goblin out, that if he threw himself at the mercy of the courts in HV, he might only serve a few years in the labor yards. Then he could go back to possibly being an honest citizen.

Four goblins rounded the corner from the backroom, each carrying one of the sacks that Jimmy requested. One by one, they tossed the bags onto the counter, where they jingled with their contents. By the time the goblins had left the room again, more of their kind had already returned to their previous duties. Briggs opened one of the bags and counted the credits. One had over fifty thousand universal creds. He whistled, taking note of the larger golden credits that were in the gold bag. Briggs removed his coin pouch from inside his duster, then poured the golden bag and two of the faded yellow bags into it. Pulling the messenger back from his shoulder, he opened it and placed the final faded yellow bag in there. Then he returned the empty sacks to the counter, the once heavy bags now lighter than a feather.

Briggs turned around and started to head for the door. He stopped just before the door sensor, then turned to look at Jimmy.

“One more thing, where was that goblin that you brushed off earlier? The one that brought you your ledger when I arrived.”

“You mean Mix?” Jimmy’s face scrunched in concentration, “She is in the back sorting out…our last little transaction.”

“Good, call her here for me please.”

Jimmy did as he was bid, and in seconds the same little goblin was in front of Briggs. Her tattered form shook in the shadow of the much taller human. Briggs got down to one knee, so he was at eye level with her. He put one of his gloved hands on her shoulder, that simple act calmed down her shaking.

“Mix…is it?”

The goblin girl nodded frantically, her eyes not leaving his. He pulled out a golden credit from the inside of his duster and placed it in her small hand. He patted her on the shoulder, and then let his hand fall.

“I want you to split that with your fellow workers, get some good food in you. Maybe even find a better place of residence. Either way, you all need to find better employment. Do you understand?” His tone was soothing, measured, and as tender as he could be, given the situation.

Mix’s eyes lit up with wonder, she had just been handed more money than she would have possibly made in years. She leaned in and gave Briggs a kiss on his cheek, then turned and ran towards the back room. The look on Jimmy’s face was akin to pure terror. Now, even if he didn’t go to the authorities, he would be out of most of his competent staff. This would take him months to sort out and hire more people. Briggs got to his feet and turned to leave, giving Jimmy a rude hand gesture as a parting gift.