Chapter Seven, Point of Origin: Better Freight than Never

Deceit

1. An outer fringe card game based on deceiving your opponents as to what cards you’ve been dealt.

2. The act of lying to someone.

The few hours it took us to tiredly shuffle up to level forty were simultaneously the most miserable, and the most interesting I had ever spent in Lisk.

We wandered down a large Tunnel-street, filled with food carts, people, Bots, and Haulers–all busy carrying out freighter and ship related errands I didn’t have the energy or general intelligence to understand.

To our left, large doors every fifty or so metres marked the start and end of another hangar. To our right, shops, storehouses and workplaces all toiled hurriedly to weld, grind, or fill and empty whatever was going to–or came off of–the ships.

It was the perfect, greasy, grungy, and grimey Fringe World hangar level–and everyone parked on it was just too damn poor to afford anything else.

The entire street was filled with a pungent energy I could almost taste in the back of my mouth. It was a taste I associated with productivity, excitement, and something that almost felt like a wide and unsated restlessness.

Xander was right in the middle of telling a story, his free hand waving through the air exuberantly as he spoke of some horrible incident. His voice rose over the clamour of the workshops we were passing in an excited decibel.

"–yes, but then our captain shot it in the ink sack, and uck!” Xander made a noise of absolute disgust, seeming to use his entire throat to make the expressive sound. “I would rather venture into Ethreal itself than to smell such a smell as that again.”

Being shamelessly captivated by the story, I shook myself out of my shocked daze. I made a face, delighted yet extremely disturbed.

“But–how did it get past the airlock? Did it… teleport?”

As we passed a hangar opening opposite a workshop, a pale, yellow light spilled out momentarily as Xander shrugged as best he could.

“There are many things in those sectors that I do not have the knowledge, or words, to explain. So, perhaps; but I do not know. ”

“... Woah. I had no idea that a creature could do that.” I readjusted the strap of the sack with the Lightcore in it. Xander had to give it to me about five levels ago.

“Are there many others like that?”

Down in these hangar levels, a few food stalls had been set up to attract the attention of hungry maintenance workers and traders. At this time of day, which I'm pretty sure was around Tiln, they seemed to be attracting quite a few people.

We skirted around one, and I did my best to ignore my rumbling stomach as Xander answered.

“Well, that I know of, only a few–but we try to stay out of those sectors if we can help it.”

“So, what happened after that?” I asked.

Xander didn’t look very pleased with the memory that followed. “Well, I spent six days scouring the hold of Qurick ink–but–that’s just what deckhands have to do.”

I chuckled. “Fun for the guy that shot it, but no fun for he who has to clean it up, eh? I’ve never had to clean up Qurick ink, but I think I understand what you mean.”

I shook my head, looking through a passing hangar door and watching a ship land. The ship thudded onto the ground, sending an exciting vibration through the entirety of level forty and up into the soles of my mismatched boots.

“Wait–” I looked up at Xander. “you’re a deckhand?”

The large Geo nodded once, in a slow, but happy action. “I wasn’t always, but I am now.”

I struggled for words, looking back at the street, and not at the handful of scars on his arms and hands. “But you... I mean, you look so– You don’t look like a deckhand.”

Xander laughed at my words–a low, and somewhat steady sound.

I never noticed until that moment, but Covienians sounded so bitter when they laughed, natives and planetborn alike. But when Xander laughed, it sounded so lighthearted in comparison.

“And what is it that I do look like, little Geo?”

Rapidly and decisively, I shook my head. “No-no-no. I’m not… doing that. You’ll just laugh at me. It’s just–I thought you were… something else.”

“What nonsense,” Xander interrupted, “I would not laugh at you for being very wrong.”

I blew the air out of my mouth, conceding and looking Xander up and down. My eyes lingered on the untidy, jagged silver scars on his arms that were remnants of battles long past. I found him looking dangerous, and if I hadn’t just spent half an hour hearing him talk about his favourite memories, I would have assumed him to be tremendously so.

Even then, I wasn’t really sure that he wasn’t.

“Were you a mercenary?” I asked finally.

Xander burst out with a loud and booming laugh to answer my question. After a moment, he even used his free hand to wipe a tear from his eye as we walked. Whether the action was theatrical or not, I wasn’t sure. His calm demeanour made it hard to gauge if he was being serious or mocking.

The dark skinned Geodian composed himself finally as I stared at him with an unimpressed expression.

“No,” he answered calmly.

My mouth dropped open. “But you said you wouldn’t laugh at me if I got it wrong!”

Xander kept his eyes on the road and shrugged with one shoulder. “I was lying,” he said simply.

I blew some air out of the corner of my mouth in an indignant huff.

“Alright then, deceitful Offworlder–where do you come from?”

Xander had now wiped the amusement from his face, and was back to his amiable self.

“Before I was offered a place on The Passerine as a deckhand, I was a Tenth Ring fighter, and I fought in all ten arenas of The Rings.”

After a moment of silence, Xander looked down at my expression like he had expected some other reaction than what I had offered.

“What’s that?” I asked blankly.

The large Geodian was at a loss for words. “What’s… what?” he asked.

“The Tenth Ring…” I answered hesitantly. “It… sounds familiar… but what’s that mean, again?”

Xander pressed his hand into his forehead gently.

“Ah–I guess this planet is a little far from The Kore, is it not?” He dropped his hand, and again, kept using it to gesture through the air as he explained. (He kept on doing that. Maybe he was more comfortable signing, or something?)

“Well, there are huge arenas–called The Rings– where people go and watch great, large battles take place. And there’s… uh, well–ten of them.”He straightened marginally. “I fought in every single one.”

My eyes flicked down to his bare arms, where so many scars marred his bone white Geometric markings. When I spoke again, my voice was quieter.

“How long were you a gladiator for?”

“For a very long time. But a merchant captain rescued me and now I serve aboard his ship, and enjoy the privilege of both of my names, as a deckhand.”

The large Geo looked to the roof in something like reverence. “Not a day goes by where I am not thankful for what he did.”

We passed another food stall, this one smelling of hot, sweet pastry. I savoured the smell, trying to remember that I still had some Crisp’a’snacs left in my bag.

I tried to think back to what Xander had said. My mind lingered on the word ‘rescued.’

Something clicked in my brain.

Slaves and servants were only allowed to use one name.

“So… you didn’t want to be a gladiator?” I asked, but the utter redundancy of the question hit me as soon as I said the words. “I mean– How long did you have to fight for?”

Xander watched a beetle as it flew overhead.

“Over two decades. And no”–he looked back up the street as the beetle flew away into the yellow light–“I did not want to be a gladiator. That is not how the Rings work.”

“Oh,” I exhaled. “That… sounds… hard. I’m sorry.”

Xander brushed the words away as we walked down the street for a few silent paces.

“Ah, matters of the past, little Geo,” he said easily. “There is already enough about it. I am more interested in where your place is in this universe.”

I looked at the street wall as we passed a group of posters with a pink beverage on them, clearing my throat and opening my mouth to speak. I shut it again and pretended to think about his question, but in reality, I just had no idea what to say and was just trying to find a way to change the subject before I died of old age or embarrassment. I didn’t care which came first, as long as it took me quickly.

Xander watched as another food stall passed us, and broke the silence.

“You worked for mechanics, correct?”

I nodded slowly, once. “Yep. Those… Koko Mechanics. But I obviously got fired after stealing a mech part from them a few… days ago.”

I tried to sound casual, putting on the attitude I saw so many Covienians use when they didn’t want to answer questions, and sighed.

“Actually… I’m leaving Covien. On Eighthday. So I’m afraid I can’t give you a very satisfying answer because I won’t belong to this planet for long…” I laughed, making it sound like a joke and not my literal answer. “Sorry.”

Xander seemed pleased as he limped along. “You are leaving? That is good. I hate this place.” He looked down at me quickly. “I mean no offence.”

I laughed as we came to a door, marked with a four and a zero. “No, it’s okay. I hate it here, too. Hence, the leaving.” I nodded to the door. “This your hangar?”

Xander shook his head after glancing at it.

“No, perhaps a little farther along.”

Xander paused, and I was forced to stop next to him. He stood on the sidewalk for a long moment as he looked up, and then back down the street to the way we had just come.

I shifted at his side. “Um. Is there… something wrong, man?”

Xander squinted, shaking his head and resuming his pace.

“I feel like I am forgetting something important–like there was something else I needed to be doing…”

We resumed our pace and I raised an eyebrow. “Other than stealing an engine heart and running from some dangerous criminals, nearly falling to your death”–I straightened out one of my Geodian braids theatrically–“and then being saved?”

“Other than that,” the Geo conceded with a nod. “I am surprised,” he continued after a brief pause, “that you knew exactly how to avoid the very populated places in this settlement.”

I tried not to look too proud as we limped along. “Well, let's just say I have a little bit of experience when it comes to avoiding certain people.”

“You know Lisk well, little Geo,” Xander mused as we passed another door. “Have you been here your whole life? The way you speak–you do not sound like you were born on this planet.”

I didn’t have sirens or warning bells in my head, but if I did, I knew they would all be going off at deafening volume.

No, of course she wasn’t born on this planet, silly, a voice answered silently in my head. (It sounded a lot like Smiley, strangely enough.) She crash-landed here and lost all of her memories and doesn’t know if she has a home, or a family! She’s just a silly street urchin, funny Offworlder!

I told the voice to shut up, and tried focusing on a good lie.

“I wasn’t born here…” I trailed off–that was about the only thing I could say with certainty. The rest was all a wonderfully clear blank slate that I could paint over with messy, stupidly fake strokes.

“I’m… just passing through, so to speak,” I finished at last.

Eeash, that was bad.

I had better stop trying to lie until I could think of a better cover story than a walking piece of cursed Astrogate debris being hunted for scientific research.

“So… how long have you been a deckhand for?” I asked, changing the subject.

Xander started counting the fingers on his spare hand, using words for numbers I didn’t recognize.

He dropped his hand after an agonising moment of acute confusion. “About five years, maybe longer,” he settled. “I enjoy it much better than my last designation. As merchants, we go to many planets, and see many places. ”

“What do you do?”

“Read, mostly,” Xander answered instantly, “because it helps me learn this infernal language. And I like to try to recreate an amazing dish. Lemon Lazuli? Do you know it? It is very good. I had it once, but cannot make it. My crew say I lack the precise skills needed to be a cook, but I will not give up.” Xander pointed a finger at the roof as he looked down the street. “The Evering will see it–I will create that masterpiece–”

I rubbed my face, trying to distract myself from my aching feet as I hid a smile. “No, no, I meant what do you do as a merchant?”

“Oh!” Xander rolled his head back as he said the word. “How to describe a Freelance Merchant in this infernal language?” he asked the roof of the street.

“Freelance Merchant?” I frowned as we hobbled past a shop that was filled with nothing but sacks of white powder. It permeated the air and sent little white ghosts onto the sidewalk as we shuffled passed. “Is that different from a normal merchant?”

“Different?” the Geo boomed. “Ha! In a thousand ways, little Geo, yes. Tell me– what do you see?” He pointed to a large open hangar street door, and I looked in from across the street.

It had two large ships in it that were being unloaded with crates of fresh food. The imperial symbol of Entrillia was painted on their hulls, in thick, over exaggerated strokes.

“It’s an imperial freighter,” I answered as I looked back at Xander. “They bring food to Covien, because Covien can’t grow its own yet.”

Xander nodded.

“That's right. Now, they would have been told to come here.” He gestured around a little, pointing to some of the side hangar doors. “I would bet you ten bronze Pieces that none of these merchants or freighters got to decide on the contracts they were given.”

Instead of all the other words Xander had said, my mind lingered on the ten bronze Pieces. That was about thirty Disks. Nearly half of my Laneway troubles.

I shook myself mentally. I wasn’t sure how this was applying to what Xander did as a living.

“Okay…” I took my eyes from the doors and looked back at Xander. “Isn’t that normal, though? The Transport guilds sends out ships with extra parts, the Resource guild is in charge of sending its ships to ferry food—

Xander waved my words away.

“Yes, but where do they take their orders from?” Without letting me answer–or think about it–Xander interrupted himself. “The Entrillian guilds, or large merchant fleets, all controlled by one person or group. Freelance Merchants are one of the only guilds that move through the void independently.”

Xander’s brows drew together as he talked, and he became a little more animated as he explained this strange, new concept to me.

“We go where no company owned merchant would go, and travel to worlds no imperial guild would send you. We get to decide where we want to go.”

I tried to absorb all the information, but in reality, every word Xander said just gave me more questions, and it was getting harder to pick between the ones I wanted to ask.

“But… how? I mean, do people just… come up to you and ask you to ferry things?”

Xander was already shaking his head.

“No, no, little Geo. Well–I mean–sometimes–but usually, we use the Freelance Posts. There's one on just about every planet, and if there is not, there's a way to contact one. That is how we got a contract to ferry Flirin Netal to Covien, even though this planet doesn’t have one.” Xander nodded to another hangar door as we passed it, and I saw a ship getting fuelled up with thick, fat ugly pipes nearly as tall as I was.

“You see, when someone needs something ferried, transported, delivered, or even retrieved, the Freelance Posts is where they go, and through them, they can contact any Freelance Merchant ship in the area and hire them.”

“And every planet has one?”

Xander nodded again. “Just about.”

A part of me didn’t want to believe Xander. I frowned.

“I’ve never heard of that.”

“How can you say that?” Xander chuckled, gesturing to a poster on the wall of the street. “There’s recruitment posters everywhere in the Blue Fringe.”

As we passed the poster, my eyes lingered on it. Come to think of it, there were posters that looked identical to this one, all around Lisk.

But I had never known what they were for. Most of them had pictures of different Anomalies or destinations from the Medium. I thought they were travel posters, and all I had ever thought them useful for was peeling off the walls, rolling them up, and using them to fight the rodents for space in the Lower Levels.

“But I thought you were independent?” I said, looking back at Xander.

“We are. Meaning we don’t rely on the Empirium,” Xander clarified. “But we’re part of an independent group. We need all kinds of people. Mechanics, Engineers, Navigators, cooks–even fighters like me, to protect precious cargo.”

“Ohhhh,” I intoned, watching a Hauler chug past us on unstable hover motors. Clear barrels of water-like liquid were obviously on their way to some ship that had probably paid too much for them. Finally, I asked the question that had practically been burning a hole through my head.

“Do you get to see many worlds as Freelance Merchants?”

Xander smiled. “Yes. Many. I do not know how many, because I am not really a numbers person, but… very many. The Kore Worlds, the Geodian systems…Very much of the Blue Fringe. Most of the Medium. Tranquilis, and its surrounding worlds-”

“Tranquilis?” I interrupted. “I’ve only ever heard stories. What‘s that like? Is it very strange?”

“Well, Tranquilians just fly around a lot and that’s about it.”

“No–” I corrected the Geodian instinctively as he hobbled next to me. “There has to be more than that.” I gestured around the air a few times for effect. “What about the Ever Twilight Cities? Or the Forest of a Thousand Crystals? Or the Hanging Seas? Or–”

“Alright, alright! Yes there is more than that.” Xander held up a hand in defence, conceding with a smile. “But you seem to know enough about it.”

I hesitated. “Well, I’ve heard a lot of stories–but I don’t know what it’s really like.” That was another lie–I hadn't heard any stories. I had just wasted hours and hours of watching Projections about far away worlds instead of watching the Projections on learning how to read.

Xander nodded, pausing momentarily to gather his thoughts.

“Lets see, well… Tranquilis is dark, and the weather is nearly always warm and tepid. Tranquilians love music, so there will always be musicians and performers on every corner and street.”

Xanders eyes lit up like he just remembered something, “Oh, and they have an instrument they can play with their wingtips.” He gestured about a metre and a half from the ground. “This big, I think. But very delicate. When they play music on the strings, it is like listening to the stars sing.”

He blew out a breath, deflating a little bit as his shoulders dropped. “I broke one by accident.”

I gasped, unintentionally. I didn’t want to make this offworlder feel bad, but I couldn’t even fathom what it would be like to break someone's prized ethereal instrument from heaven. Or maybe I could, and that's why I felt a sudden and overwhelming rush of fear.

“What did they do?” I asked eagerly. “Were they mad? Did they make you pay for a new one?”

Xander only laughed. “I do not know–I'll tell you when I go back and see if they found where I hid it.”

His eyes were lost somewhere as he thought about the memory, but they darkened after a moment. He looked down the street again.

“Do you think we got the right level?” asked Xander after a moment.

I shrugged as best I could, as I was still being used as Xander’s crutch. “Well, this is level forty. Are you sure you remembered right?”

Pausing again on the street, Xander rubbed the back of his head, standing on one foot as he surveyed his surroundings.

“Yes… But I still feel like I am forgetting something very important.” He looked down at me, wearing a mix between amusement and shame. “Maybe I did get the wrong level–”

Looking back up the street, Xander's words died on his lips.

The Geodian froze, physically and mentally–eyes going wide as he stared up ahead.

I looked up the busy street. It was filled with normal Liskian street things like vendors, Haulers, Bots and rushing, angry people.

“What is it?” I asked hurriedly, eyes searching from face to face for either a Mechanic or a Scavenger. “Is it Sovals’?”

I fought the urge to hide behind the large Geodian. There could even be a Gray Raven agent in the crowd, except I had no idea what a Gray Raven agent even looked like. Probably something terrifying.

Xander turned around, taking his arm from my shoulder. He bent his head to the ground, and promptly started to study his feet with an acute intensity.

I shuffled closer to him slowly, looking up at his, quite frankly, terrified expression. “I’d hate to kill your good mood here,” I started in a normal tone, “but… is something... wrong?”

“Shh–” Xander whispered back. “I just saw one of my crew members. So I think we got the right level after all.”

I lowered my voice in a whisper to match his. “Um,” I began uncertainly, “isn’t that kinda a good thing?”

Xander shook his head, still wearing his tormented expression as he stared at his feet. “Yes.”

I sighed, straightening. I was getting a few mixed signals from this Geodian. Did he want to go back to his ship or not? If he didn’t, why did I just spend the last four hours walking back up here?

I looked around the street, turning from Xander. Getting this Geodian to where he wanted to be was one thing, but like my energy reserves and resolve to stay awake, my moral obligation was swiftly running out. I had done so much running, walking, and worrying today–and I still had so much worrying to do! Talking with Xander was fun, but I still needed to find those seventy five Disks.

I was about to turn around and ask Xander what his problem was so I could go home, when something about fifty metres up the street caught my eye and I stopped.

Or should I say, a someone.

A tall woman, with pale skin and white blonde hair. She wasn’t as tall as a Covienian, but her ethnicity was easy enough to guess–Avaiyyatian.

Avaiyyatians–or Aviays, which was more of a slang term for them–were known for the extremely artistic dots that lined the back and front of their limbs, spines and faces. Paired with nearly pure white-blond hair, the palest skin imaginable, and a slender and tall body, Avaiyyatians seemed positively…otherworldly. Almost like they were too fragile for the rough-and-tumble worlds of the West Sectors.

But there was one here.

And she was staring right at me.

I instantly looked away, also turning and staring at my shoes next to–

“Xander?” I whispered, looking around wildly.

The Geodian was gone.

I glanced over my shoulder discreetly, seeing that the woman had stopped staring at me and was walking across the street. She disappeared into a hangar marked in two bold numbers. A four and a two.

Ah. So we definitely got the right level.

I searched the street, clutching onto the strap of the sack as I leant on my tiptoes, trying to find the offworlder in the little river of passing people.

“Psssstt!” To my left, someone whispered. “Little Geo–this way.”

I turned, finding Xander in the mouth of a very narrow alley. I passed a flickering lamp post and stopped in front of him. I was still on the street, but Xander didn’t seem to want to come out.

I gestured behind me with my thumb easily. “It’s okay, pal. The scary lady is gone.”

Xander shook his head, leaning up against the alley wall as he took unwanted pressure off of his injured foot.

“It doesn’t matter.” He dropped his head, his tone positively despondent. “I’m gonna have to go in and face them anyway.” He smacked his forehead violently. “Oh, Xander Nemeshianci! Why didn’t you think this part through?”

I squinted up at him.

Was he…okay? Maybe the Ripple Charger had gotten to his head.

“Is there… something I can help you with, buddy?”

Xander looked at me, obviously pained as he shook his head. “No. I am afraid I have dug myself into a… grave–I think that is the right word.”

He ran a hand through his braids, looking around the street fearfully.

“To be very honest, I wasn’t supposed to steal back our Lightcore. Our captain said it would draw too much attention, and we had much work to do instead. But I thought I could do it, and I thought it would be okay, but then I–I hurt my foot. And I just remembered what I was supposed to be doing instead…”

“Oh, yeah?” I scratched my arm absently, looking at a moth behind Xander. It was perched atop a black wire that draped across the alley loosely. "What was that?"

As if it had just noticed I was looking at it, the moth climbed up the wire, and disappeared onto the roof high above.

“I was supposed to be finding a maintenance hand to help us with repairs while we were here,” I could hear Xander say as I stared at the roof.

I squinted, my thoughts drifting as I smelled a vendor's food down the street–it held tones of hot grains and warm, melting butter.

I wondered what I was going to do for dinner.

Probably crackers.

“We’re never going to finish repairs before Eighthday now.” Xander held his head with both of his hands, assuming the tone and posture of someone who was in poignant mental anguish. “And they’re going to be so angry with me–even though we needed a Lightcore, and there was no way to leave without it,” Xander kept on muttering to himself, “but no one will ever listen to me about these things.”

I took my eyes from the roof and studied Xander as he lamented to the alley wall in a language I didn’t understand.

I didn’t want to be rude, but in the most tactful way possible, I needed to find a way to say I just didn’t have time for this.

I really needed to be finding ways to pay the Laneway Tax, and not need in the mild sense like I-need-to-get-to-a-bathroom-soon, but need as in the pressing sense like I-need-to-get-off-the-road-before-I’m-squished-into-a-million-tiny-indistinguishable-pieces kind of need.

Also, I was very hungry.

“Look, Xander,” I started, turning from the alley and looking down the street. “I’m sure your crew will understand. You got the Lightcore back, didn't you? So what’s the big deal? Just go back to the hangar and we can all be on our way.”

“You don’t understand,” Xander said, tearing his eyes from the wall and looking down at me, “without a maintenance hand, it won’t matter if we have a Lightcore or not. We need to be out of port by Eighthday, or we’ll never make it to Novasena in time–”

Xander's words cut short. He took a step back, careful to not put pressure on his bad leg.

He looked me up and down.

I got the impression I was being evaluated, and it made me very uncomfortable.

When Xander spoke again, he sounded casual.

Too casual.

“What are you doing for the next few days?”

I looked from side to side, sliding my hands into my pockets as I drove the thoughts of food and Laneway taxes out of my head. What did this have to do with anything?

“Uuuh–” I didn't know how to respond. The real answer was ‘hiding from a science guild and trying to find a way to either gain or steal seventy five Disks.’

But all I could actually say was:

“Uuh–errrnnnothing, really.”

Xander took a step out of the alley, using the wall to limp towards me.

“How would you like to be a maintenance hand on a twin engine transport for a few days, little Geo?”

For exactly six heartbeats, I stared up at Xander, uncomprehending.

My eyes narrowed as his words sunk into my head, and as soon as they did, they widened in shock.

“Me??”

Instinctively, I took a step away from the Geodian, my back turned to the now very flickering lamp post. “And why would you want me to do that?” I asked him with all the perplexion I could muster. “Why don’t you just go and hire a real maintenance hand?”

Now with an idea on his brain, the offworlder limped painfully back into the street. “Because we were already cutting it close trying to find one at such short notice.” He pointed to himself, stepping closer. “And if you come with me now, my captain and crew does not get angry at me for not hiring a maintenance hand, and my crew gets out of port in time–with their Lightcore.”

I opened my mouth to answer him, hesitating for a few moments.

“Look, I’m so sorry, but I need to find a way to pay the Laneway Tax before Eighthday. Remember? I’m leaving soon.” I shrugged unhappily. “I wish I could help you, but I can’t. And I'm probably… not really qualified to help you?”

Xander didn’t understand. “Well, you said you used to work with mechanics, right?”

Laughing a panicked, slightly incredulous laugh, I nodded down the street where I could see sparks fly out of a workshop distantly. “As a mechscrubber. I scrubbed Bot parts, stacked shelves, and swept.”

Xander took a step closer and grabbed my shoulders, a strangely serious look in his eye. “Mechscrubber or not, I’m sure you could help. It would only be until Seventhday, then you could go! You don’t seem to understand, little Geo, my–my very life could be at stake!" Xander started shaking me marginally as he talked, “The captain told me that he would kill me if Charge and I tried to steal the Lightcore back.”

I held up my finger awkwardly. Xander still hadn’t released me.

“The same amazing captain that saved you from a gladiator ring?” I asked.

Xander paused, looking up as he thought for a moment. “The... captain does have bad days.” He shook his head, turning back to me. “But if you were with me, and you pretended to be a qualified, professional maintenance hand, they would not get so mad, as I was already supposed to be hiring an extra hand today.”

I gave Xander a flat look, still unable to move. “Oh, yay. I’m like, a sacrifice.”

Xander shook his head again. “No, no–like an offering.” He smiled–out of amusement, or panic, I wasn’t sure. For some reason, the Geodian made those two emotions look very similar. “Look, how much do you want? We would pay you–I would need Zara to agree to hire you, but you said you needed to pay a Laneway Tax…?” Xander shook me once again as his voice rose to a high, strained tone. “This could be it…!”

What Xander was saying was downright crazy– and the last thing I needed was to be in trouble with a bunch of offworlders for lying to them. I was already in trouble with Mechanics, Scavengers, not to mention an entire imperial guild!

I was not in the mood to put offworlders on that list…

I straightened. “Wait.”

Or was I?

Xander stilled, waiting for me to continue anxiously.

“You would pay me?” I asked.

The rapid succession of nods from Xander was borderline comedic. “Of course– We wouldn’t let you work for free. Just help with the crates, and descaling–and a little bit of engine maintenance, and–”

“Seventy five Disks,” I interrupted.

Xander fell silent. The sum of money had wiped all emotion from his face like a dishcloth across a dirty plate.

“S-seventy five?” repeated Xander.

I nodded. “Seventy five Disks, and I’ll help you with whatever maintenance you need.”

Xander’s face lit up like a beam of Lisk’s unpredictable yellow light had fallen on it.

“Perfect! I am so glad you agreed!” he said, shaking me yet again. “I am so glad you agreed! This arrangement will benefit you…” He looked to the side for a moment, eyes tracing the door to his hangar. “... aand– and maybe me.”

I nodded blearily. “Amazing,” I said with a wince. “Can you stop shaking me now?”

Xander took his hands from my shoulders hurriedly. “Oh, I am sorry–”

He brushed his hands against his shirt, and looked at the hangar door in some form of pensive thought.

“All we need to do is make sure they don’t find out you’re not actually a real maintenance hand. Then I would actually be in serious trouble.”

“Alright,” I said, coming to stand next to him. “So, how exactly are we going to lie to your crew?”

Xander straightened after a moment, rolling his shoulders. “It will take some cunning deception. But I believe in you.”

I looked up at Xander as he glanced down at me.

“What kind of deception?” I asked.

Apparently, when Xander said deception, he meant making me look less like a street urchin.

This process included taking off my poncho and hiding it behind a crate. After searching around, he found some grease in an alley and put it on my hands–as if they weren’t dirty enough–and finished off the look by putting my stolen hat securely on my head.

He stood back, looking at me in a narrow squint. “I think you should tuck your shirt in?”

I sighed mentally.

I hated tucking my shirt in. It made me look so short. But seeing as this offworlder was offering me a real job and didn’t care that I was previously a mechscrubber, I couldn’t find it in myself to complain.

“There,” I said bitterly when I was done. “Better?”

Xander smiled. “Ha–” He peered into the large doors of hangar 42, leaning against the doorframe to support his injured foot. "It makes you look shorter.”

I dropped my shoulders, looking up at the roof of the street as if help could be found there. Was there any end to this mortal torment?

Without my poncho, I felt cold and exposed, and I wanted to put my bandaged arm behind me, but Xander hadn't said anything about the bandages yet–so maybe he didn’t care.

Xander beckoned me to come forward, and I shuffled next to him.

“Alright, this is how it went,” Xander said, still looking into the hangar, “I stole the Lightcore without a problem, and had just enough time to find you in the Higher Level workshops. Your shop was advertising hands for maintenance, and that's how I found you.” He looked back at me and I nodded.

“Sounds pretty good,” I said, “but what about your leg?”

Xander looked down at his foot for a moment, then shrugged. “Eh, it does not matter.” He handed me back the bag with the Lightcore in it, and I slid it over my head without knocking my hat off.

The action required both my hands, and Xander saw all the bandages that went from my right hand to my elbow, shoulder and neck.

When I finished fiddling with the strap of the sack, I looked back up to find Xander's eyes, subtle tints of something like wariness in them.

“Little Geo, your arm…”’ he started. “Is it injured?”

The question took me back a bit.

I shook my head. “It’s uh… healing. But I can still work.”

He gestured to the bandages with his eyes. “What happened?”

I stared up at the other Geodian from under the brim of my hat.

Huh.

No one had ever asked that before. At least, not like that. The question I usually received was coupled with a few insults and accusations of being deformed or unable to work.

And it was never asked because people actually cared.

I shook my head, a little more than worldless. “I–There was… um–”–I looked down–“a bad transport accident. But I’m okay now.” I looked back up. “I can still work. It doesn’t bother me anymore.”

Xander nodded slowly, appearing to be thinking about it for a moment. He turned back to look into the hangar one last time with a somewhat thoughtful expression. “That is very well. I am glad it does not bother you.”

I stood behind him, blinking strangely at his last words.

Why was he glad? That was weird. No one had ever said that before. He was probably just glad I could still work and wouldn’t slow his crew down.

Without looking behind him, Xander gestured with his hand for me to come. “Alright, let's go.”

As Xander leant heavily on my shoulder again, we both took the final step that led us all the way into hangar 42.

I blinked as I stepped inside, the brightness of the humming hangar lights blinding me in contrast to the dark street outside.

As my eyes adjusted to the light, I finally drew my face up to look at the massive transport ship that sat in the middle of the hangar like a hen guarding a nest.

It was possibly the most hilarious thing I’d ever seen.

In so many ways, not at all elegant–but it wasn’t chunky like other freighters that tumbled in and out of Lisk, either. This this wasn’t a freighter, this was a transport. Meant for getting something to somewhere, fast.

The twin turbine ship that Xander had mentioned was evidently styled after a bird–for practical or stylistic reasons, I wasn’t sure. The wings spread out across the hangar to either side of the main body of the ship, and embedded in each one was a large turbine, space enough around them to pivot and move.

With two side hold doors and a handful of windows in odd places, the body itself seemed normal enough–apart from the cockpit window, which curled downwards slightly and gave the impression of a bird’s beak.

Ah. I smiled up at the ship, Xander's words making more sense, now.

I see–The Passerine.

The hangar wasn’t anything special, and it was a low end one, at that. Like all hangars on these levels, it was a glorified warehouse reinforced and modified for holding the heavy ships that were forced to stop here.

Equipment like pulleys and weights were installed to aid in repairs and movement, and fuel holding tanks were set halfway into the ground. There were a dozen more things that I didn’t understand, but I was sure they all had some kind of purpose–like some scaffolding structures that looked like they were trying to be set up around the left side of the ship.

All around the body of the vessel, and under its large, metal wings, were boxes and crates piled around haphazardly like the open hold of the ship had spewed them out like that as soon as it had landed.

Amongst those boxes stood a tall, lanky woman–the same one who had been looking for Xander outside on the street. She had short white-blonde hair that was shaved at the sides, the top tied back to keep it from her eyes. She wore a light grey sweater that looked like the sleeves had been ripped off in frustration, displaying a handful of artistic tattoos that wove in and out of the native marks on her arms.

In these arms she held a rather violently glowing yellow Tab, which she mumbled at in annoyance.

We approached the jungle of crates and boxes, and the woman looked up.

I could have sworn up and down that she had fallen straight off of a travel pamphlet from Aviayyat.

She watched as we approached, and I fought the urge to forget the plan, drop Xander’s arm, and run. Forget the seventy five Disks–this was terrifying for so many good reasons.

For a brief moment, she might have been surprised, but it quickly faded away as her eyebrows drew together in aggravation. All the breath was forced out of her lungs as she put a hand on her hip angrily, and shouted.

“Xander Nemeshianci, you no-good, son of a Spark! I should tell the captain to sell your useless skin straight back to the gladiator rings!” The young woman stepped over a box easily, the action flaunting the agility her race possessed.

“Where the scriking Eth have you been for the past five hours?” she demanded as she came closer. “You and Charge were supposed to be back here with the maintenance hand at lunch, but instead, you both go missing, won’t answer your Relays, and I can't find the shipment of Eltrin–which is due tonight! It was all I could do all day to keep Sevus from filing a missing persons alert.” Bright, scarily vivid green eyes snapped to me as she finished her words.

"Who’s this?” she asked, dropping the Tab to her side and studying me suspiciously, hand on hip.

She didn't look very old at all. She looked as old as Kan was, but I realised I didn’t know how old Kan was either.

Xander had taken these questions pleasantly and calmly, like he hadn’t been freaking out in an alleyway only twenty minutes ago. When the woman had finished, he stepped away from me, doing well to hide his limp.

“Lovely Zara,” he began, “may I present the maintenance hand that I found for us this afternoon–Evren West.” He shoved me toward the woman named Zara, who still hadn’t lost her look of scrutiny.

“Evren West, this is Zara Leers Xasan, our medic. Zara, this is Evren.” Xander continued, and I swallowed under the Avaiy's intense gaze. “She’s decided to work for us while we’re in port.”

Zara looked behind me to Xander. “It took you five hours to find a maintenance hand?”

She seemed annoyed. And perplexed. It reminded me vaguely of Lewis’s aggravating ability to express several conflicting emotions at once.

“Why did it take you so long?” asked the Avaiyyatian.

Xander limped past me, motioning for me to give him the sack back. “I encountered some unpredictable circumstances that greatly required intervention.”

I gave him the bag, and Xander sat down on a nearby crate, trying to hide a wince, which unfortunately, Zara, the Avaiyyatian with an acute sense of weirdly severe focus, noticed.

“Oh–what did you do?” she asked in a low, threatening tone, coming to stand in front of the Geodian with her Tab still in her hand.

Next to her, I inched away as Xander ruffled around in the bag. I didn’t really feel one hundred percent comfortable standing next to the Avaiy. The energy around her felt spiky and angry.

“I, very carefully”–Xander pulled out the Lightcore with one hand, struggling with its awkward weight–“got us a way off this planet.”

I waited for the Avaiy to either thank Xander or exclaim her astonishment, but instead, Zara’s eyes widened in shock–as well as her mouth, which she snapped back in a nanosecond. Her eyes were furious.

“You went back and stole the Lightcore?!” She slapped the side of Xander’s head with her free hand. “What the hell is wrong with you? The captain said no. We were supposed to wait for him to come back!”

Xander rubbed his head where the Avaiy had struck him. “That’s not the thank you I was imagining,” he muttered. Dropping his hand, he pointed to me. “And see? I got a maintenance hand, didn't I? So don’t be so upset. There could be worse outcomes for this day, Zara.”

“Then why are you limping?” was the instantaneous reply.

Eesh. This wasn’t going like I thought it was going to.

Xander waved her off, putting the Lightcore down on the crate next to him.

“I twisted it when I crossed the street on the way down here. Evren was coming back down with me, so she was kind enough to offer help.”

Zara turned to me and eyed me with sharp, green eyes. She extended a tattooed hand to me.

“Evren West?” she asked.

I nodded, taking her hand warily.

“Nice to meet you.”

I shook her hand, trying to force my eyes to not study the extremely artistic Avaiyyatian dots down her limbs and face. They were so… pretty.

I realised that the Fringe didn’t have a lot of pretty races. Just mean ones.

The Avaiy took her hand back, returning it to her hip as she looked me up and down. “So. Ever descaled a ship before?”

She nodded to the large transport behind her. I got the impression she was still studying me. Evaluating me. Watching my nervous twitching and weighing me on some invisible scale inside her head.

Gods in Eth–I felt like the plucked birds on Market street were studied less before they were decided upon.

I cleared my throat, fighting the urge to look at Xander and plead for help. “I've seen how descaling is… done.”

I had no idea what that meant.

“What about scouring landing gear? It’ll require some light mechanical work.”

I nodded, clicking my fingers happily. “I’m familiar with scrubbing.”

Zara still didn’t look very pleased.

Was that just her face, or did she just not like me? If she didn’t like me, I found myself vaguely wondering why.

Zara seemed to have finished evaluating me, her eyes saying that her mind was made up.

“Wait here a moment?” she said to me, turning to Xander and gesturing for him to follow her.

Xander looked like he was about to faint when he stood up again. I guess the adrenaline of looking over his shoulder for the Mechanics the past five hours had finally worn off.

He limped towards Zara, giving me a covert thumbs up before he struggled to where the young woman was standing a few metres away.

Zara turned Xander away and lowered her voice to a harsh whisper she probably thought I couldn’t hear.

“Xander, this is just a kid. We need someone to speed up repairs, not slow them down.”

I kicked some crud on the floor, pretending I wasn’t listening.

Xander’s returning whisper was slightly more inaudible, but I caught the last half. “ –she’s from a great workshop! I’m sure she’ll be able to help us.”

I leant down, picking up a piece of paper I had noticed on the hangar floor. The script wasn’t like Alphon at all. It was wiggly and curvy, and looked more like someone had been artistically doodling where actual words were supposed to be.

I started listening to the two merchants supposedly private conversation again as I pocketed the piece of paper, sliding it covertly into my bag.

“–I don’t understand,” Zara was whispering. “Why would she work for such a low amount?”

I didn’t hear Xander reply, so I turned and looked at the ship again. It took too much energy to eavesdrop, and I didn’t really care. Either they would give me a job or they wouldn’t. And I was already so tired. I wondered if I took a nap right now, could I wake up before they stopped talking and needed me?

The ship seemed to look down at me knowingly, its wings spread out like it was inviting me to look at what was under them.

What was in all those boxes? What was Eltrin? Why had they lost it? Where was Novasena? And why was it important to get it there so fast?

I leant down again, this time to study words I couldn’t read on a side of a large metal crate, its shapes taunting me in familiar Alphon script.

Crouching on the ground, I looked up to see Xander and Zara had stopped talking. Zara had crossed her arms, and was staring up at Xander with dark eyes.

“If you have done something sneaky, you better hope I never find out, Nemeshianci.” She pointed a finger up at Xander. “Don’t make me regret this.”

The Avaiyyatian turned away, and I stood, watching Xander heave out what could easily have been the biggest breath of relief I had ever seen.

Zara came to stand in front of me. “O6. Tomorrow,”she said, inputting something into her yellow Tab. “You’ll work from then, till the evening of Seventhday.” She closed her eyes, appearing to be thinking about something. “I think you guys call it Til?”

I nodded, clutching the strap to my bag. “Tiln,” I corrected her. “The last shift before sunfall. But… I can be here as long as you need me,” I added.

Zara held out her hand again. “Oh, trust me. Five days is all we need from you.”

“Excellent!” I heard Xander exclaim behind her. “Now all we have to do is find Charge.”

Zara dropped her hand before I could take it, and turned her infuriated eyes on Xander.

“You lost Charge?!” she shouted at the Geo.

Before he could explain, a loud crash thundered through the metal hangar.

All three of us looked to where the two hangar doors smashed against the wall and slammed back into place.

A small purple Secodack had burst in at full speed, and was using his back to press hangar doors closed in fear. His orange eyes were wide with panic, and he heaved for breath his tiny lungs probably didn’t even have room for.

Xander’s eyes narrowed as he muttered under his breath. “Speak of the Mimic...”

The Secodack sprinted across the hangar towards us.

“The mechanics!” he gasped, “They were after me!”

“Yeah–like, four hours ago,” Xander taunted.

The Secodack collapsed onto his stomach on a low crate next to us.

“Where have you even been?” Xander asked, raising an eyebrow and poking the Secodack, as if making sure he was really there.

The Secodack smacked Xander’s hand away and held his side like he had a bad stitch. “We said go back to the hangar if the plan went south–” he rasped, looking up from his stomach. “ And it went south!”

Xander threw his hands up into the air. “You did not give it a chance to go south.”

“They caught on to us,” the Secodack wheezed, closing his eyes as his stitch seemed to give him more grief than he would have liked. “I had to leave.”

Xander pointed an accusing finger at him. “That is untrue. You ran away.” He almost sounded hurt as he folded his arms. “Again. And I had to find a maintenance hand by myself, too.”

Xander put a hand to his forehead in an overly dramatic gesture. “It was so hard to look for the right person by myself, I did not know what I was looking for. Thankfully, I found Evren in the Upper levels.”

“Who’s Evren?” the Secodack rasped, looking up blearily.

Zara, who had been watching the Secodack complain for the last minute, sighed, rubbing her temples.

“She’s our maintenance hand for the week,” she muttered, obviously tired. “Xander found her.” She pointed to me briefly before returning to rubbing her temples. “And I just hired her.”

“But I was supposed to help find the maintenance hand–” whined the Secodack. He stopped, realising that Zara had pointed to someone.

I watched the Secodack turn around and direct his irritated orange eyes towards me.

It was at this wonderful moment that I made the marvellous decision that I should leave.

Right then.

I started walking towards the doors backwards, as fast as I could without hitting a crate and falling over. “Well, this was great. Thanks for the position–I’ll see you all in the morning.”

The Secodack pushed himself into a sitting position, twisting around to look at me. Long, purple ears went back as his brows furrowed.

“Hey wait a minute–” The small Secodack pushed himself off his crate, and got a better look at me where I had frozen. “Aren’t you that kid that lied to us this morning?”

Xander's palm found his face in a muted smack.

Zara on the other hand, finally stopped rubbing her temples.

“Hmm?” she said, folding her arms and looking to me, and then the Secodack they were calling Charge. “You mean, you know her?” asked the Avaiyyatian tiredly despite her apathetic expression.

The Secodack looked appalled. “Ew, no–” He looked back at me. “But we asked you directions for where the Black market was, and instead you sent us to a crummy workshop.”

I kept on inching backwards, rubbing the back of my neck as I became keenly aware of Zara’s suspicious eyes.

“Ohhhh…” My mouth moved with no sound for a little bit. Finally, words came out in a slightly intelligent jumble of noises. “Oh, well when you asked, I thought you said you wanted to know where a Lightcore was. I just sent you to where I knew there was one. I–I was confused.”

The Secodack didn’t seem satisfied. He started walking towards me. “And what gutter workshop did Xander pull you from, Covienian?”

That was a question I couldn’t answer, and the Secodack almost seemed to know that.

Thankfully, before I could speak, Xander interrupted.

“Upper Levels,” the large Geodian responded instantly from behind the Secodack. “There was a… large workshop, advertising… uh, extra hands while ships were in port.”

The Secodack turned around to face Xander. “So you’re telling me you that had enough time to ditch the mechanics, go back up to the highest levels on this scriking settlement”–he pointed to me–“and found the one person who had lied to us about the Lightcore in the first place?”

Xander straightened, tilting his head. For a moment, he didn’t speak.

“Yes,” he responded simply. “I… was fast.”

Xander looked back at me briefly. “And it’s good that she did, because we would have been searching for our Lightcore for days if not for her assistance. And she helped me when I hurt my ankle, too–so she has been more useful in one day than you have been in years.”

I put my hands up. I didn’t think that would help anyone's situation. “Now hang on–”

The Secodack whipped around, violently placing two small hands on his hips, “That's not fair!” he protested up at Xander. “What the scrike am I supposed to do if you hurt yourself? Give you a piggyback ride back up to the ship? Sorry, but my race isn’t known for having super-strength!”

Xander looked like he was about to retort with something even more aggravating to the Secodack, but Zara finally rolled her eyes, stepping between the two crewmembers and pushing Charge back down onto his crate.

“Enough, alright?” the Avaiy demanded. “We’re up to our necks in things to worry about without you two biting each other’s heads off. The captain put me and Sevus in charge of the Eltrin job while he was gone.” She turned her eyes of angry green to Xander, and then Charge. “So you two can occupy yourselves on canning it until he gets back.” Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath. “Don’t make me kill you before then.”

Charge straightened, looking to a confused Xander, then to Zara. “Wait, where did the captain go?”

Zara smacked Charge on the side of the head.

“To Refinery bay?” She directed her attention to Xander, who also looked like he didn’t know. “To organise the salt shipment? Don’t you listen?” Instead of letting them answer any of those questions, the Avaiyyatian turned away and threw her hands up. “You know what? I give up. I’m not doing this.” She picked up her Tab and turned to me.

“06. Sharp,” she said. “If we still have a hangar in the morning, we’ll see you here.”

I scratched the back of my head, looking around the large space of hangar 42.

“I’ll… try to help you guys in any way I can.”

Quite frankly, these merchants looked like they needed a whole lot more help than what a maintenance hand could give, but I decided I really shouldn’t pry into their obvious crew problems.

Evidently done with this conversation, the Avaiy turned away and shook her head, muttering at her yellow glowing Tab with a tone something akin to disbelief as she started pushing carts away to read their glowing screens.

The Secodack glared at me as he jumped off his crate.

“How much are you even working for, anyway?” he demanded, folding his arms.

I noticed that his eyes didn’t match his orange little cloak. Maybe that was the reason he was so angry.

As I was in the act of turning to leave the hangar, I paused mid step to address the Secodack.

“Seventy five Disks,” I answered. “Is that a problem?”

I didn’t really care if it was. But maybe he did.

Instead of getting angry, the Secodack burst into peels of ironic, stupid laughter. He grabbed the Lightcore from the nearby crate and cackled his way into the ship’s hold.

“-and I thought appearances were supposed to be deceiving,” I could hear him laugh, his words echoing out of the ship.

I pouted, turning to the hangar door.

Was that supposed to mean that I looked stupid, and was? Or that I looked smart, and had somehow made him think I was stupid. People being angry at me wasn’t exactly a new feeling, so I rolled my eyes and pretended I didn’t hear him.

As Zara was turned away, and the cackling Secodack was gone, Xander turned to me, dropping the semi-serious look on his face and giving me a victorious grin.

“Good job! I knew it would work!” he signed jubilantly. “See you tomorrow, Little Geo.”

Outside of the hangar, I pressed my back against the metal of the street wall, breathing deeply as I stared at the opposite wall.

“Today…” I looked to the open doors beside me as I rubbed my face. “definitely went differently than expected.”

The people that passed as I leant against against the wall; the carts, the Haulers, and the Bots–

–they had no idea what had just happened.

They had no idea that I had just made a step from death to survival, they had no idea that the little money I was going to get for the next few days meant my very life.

They had no idea that those merchants were my one hope and saving force, and they were going to get me off this infernal planet.

As if to make sure it was still there, I pulled out the precious ticket from my pants pocket, cradling it gently like it might break if I handled it too roughly.

I closed my eyes, breathing out. “This… is–”

A smile crept across my lips, and my eyes snapped open.

“–amazing!”

I leapt from the wall, and put both of my hands up victoriously. “Yes! Go Evren!”

I wiggled around happily on the sidewalk in what could be akin to a victory dance, paying no mind to the people that double took my display of absolute bliss. “Just a few days, seventy five lousy Disks, and I am out of here!”

I straightened, putting the ticket into my pocket decidedly and patting my leg. “It’s been fun, Covien–but I will not miss you!”

After a little more wiggling-and a few more glances from passing strangers-I froze. Oh right–the Scavengers were still looking for me.

I looked up and down the street, putting my hands down. After fearfully searching from face to face, I found no grey or beige drab Scavenger clothing.

I blew out a sigh of relief.

I was gonna have to be careful, even more careful than I had been in the past. The only safe places for me were the empty streets and warehouse level–and I guess, now, the inside of hangar 42.

I found my poncho behind the crate where Xander had hid it, and pulled it over my head, taking off my hat and flicking the cowl up.

I couldn’t help but pull out the ticket again to look at it before I stepped into the street of passing people. I ran my fingers over the numerals and symbols, a grin passing over my face.

“Soon,” I said, “and I won’t ever have to worry about this place again.”

Lou Koval leant over his desk, staring down three of his mechanics with dark, calm eyes.

Quite understandably, none of them met his gaze.

“So,” Lou said, letting the word hang in the cramped, silent office. “Which one of you wants to explain what happened yesterday?”

None of them spoke–in fact, they were all more silent than Lou had ever remembered them being. Lou mentally remarked on the fact. So the trick to getting them to shut up is making them feel guilty. He tucked that revelation away for later.

A figure passed the large window next to the office’s door, and a moment later, someone stepped in.

Half blood, mongrel, mixling.

These were the words that came to Lou Koval’s mind whenever he saw his young head mechanic, Kan.

Her displaced Tironian markings and one pointed ear, literally earmarked her for every one of those names. It was so unfortunate that the most skilled mechanic Lou had ever known just so happened to have inherited a birthright of shame.

She nodded to him respectfully.

“I’m late,” she announced. No apology followed.

Lou blinked. “Yes, I know,” he said tersely. “But I guess you have good timing, Kan. Because it seems that no one here–” he looked pointedly as the other seated mechanics, “wants to explain to me how one: a mech-scrubbing street urchin took off with one of our most prized assets, and two”–his volume went up marginally–“how not one of you was able to catch her.”

One of the mechanics flinched at his voice, a tall man with a very badly broken nose, yet he still remained silent. Shame filled the room like a thick and unwelcome fog.

Lou was about to single him out when Kan coughed casually to clear her throat.

“Herus Koval, there is… other news.”

He looked up at Kan. Was she derailing him? This meeting was important, and Kan was interrupting him.

She continued anyway, despite his look towards her.

“The girl– our mechscrubber– knew the streets well,” she explained, spreading her hands. “And she was… resourceful. Today, there was another accident–”

The man that had the broken nose gave a small snort he probably regretted, interrupting Kan. “Resourceful, alright,” he mumbled, which produced a glare from the Head Mechanic.

“Resourceful,” echoed Lou. “Hm.”

He turned slowly to look at the wall behind him, gazing absently at the neat rows of boards that had been attached to the wall. Physical papers clipped onto their uneven surfaces; organising times, jobs, contracts, and even bills.

“I was under the impression that resourcefulness was a skill I encouraged in my four top mechanics.”

Everyone heard Lou draw in a long breath.

“Do you all… understand the nature of what we do here?” he asked quietly, his back still to his mechanics.

The question hung in the air, but he remained staring at the wall, eyes tracing every line and word with tight, small movements of his eyes.

“Do I need to remind you of the Modified Bot parts, stacked up at our hangar, ready to be smuggled offworld?” he asked. “Do I need to remind you of the Flirin Netel, liberated from offworld merchants that is used everyday here in this workshop?”

Silence now had complete and utter control of the room. Lou turned around again to face them, and they all looked at him with a little bit of uncertainty, even Kan.

“What about the Bots? Hm? The ones that I pay you to modify?” He spread his hands, gesturing to the large window that overlooked Kovals' huge hidden workshop. “Modifications that will not go down well with Entrillian enforcement?”

His eyes darkened, and his volume rose. Lou Koval clenched his fists.

“Do I need to tell you that if word of what we are doing gets out to the authorities, all it takes is one–one–visit from an actual Covienian Ranger to shut everything we’ve worked for down!” His hands thudded onto his desk as he leaned over it and shouted. “I taught you all to be careful!”

One of the mechanics, a woman of probably some distant Flirin descent, shrugged uncomfortably. Her dark skin made her golden eyes seem paler than they probably were. “Lou, she was just a mechscrubber, we never thought that she would take the arm.”

The man beside her, a plain as day native Covienian finally spoke. “Look– we can fix it. Tomorrow night, we can go back up to the Port and just… retake the arm. Kan told me that someone put it back on, so–” He looked to his companions for support. “We’ll just steal it again.”

Lou interrupted before anyone had the chance to agree with him.

“No, Lev! You absolute moron– didn’t you just hear what I said? If Tri-Dock 61 finds out that we were the ones that took the arm, our punishment will be swifter than you could possibly imagine! Stealing it again would only draw unwanted attention– and that's why I said we had one shot at that. Just the one.” Lou took a breath as he closed his eyes, trying to calm himself. The action was partially ineffectual.

“Servant Bot arms Like that Port Bot’s are worth so much these days because of their hundreds of artificial neural processors… Tri-Dock 61 will not take this lightly if they find out we took it.”

After a moment, he spoke again, his words quiet, but forceful. “Forget the arm. We have a bigger problem.”

Confused glances were exchanged, a few eyebrows were drawn into a frown.

Lou continued.

“Right now, there is someone walking around Lisk,” he said a little more calmly, “that has the power to shut us down,”. Well, it was almost calmness. Upon closer evaluation, it may have just been careful, restrained anger. “That person is a mere Geodian street urchin.”

He opened his eyes, meeting Kan’s gaze across the room. “We need to find her, and we need to tell her what happens to people that threaten us.”

Kan and Lev shared a glance.

Lev tilted his head in an unspoken question.

Kan shook her head. “It wasn’t inside. That Geodian bastard took it out of its safety casing,” she answered him. “We gotta tell him.”

Lou switched his hot, angry gaze between Kan and Lev. “Tell him what?” he asked in a dangerously low tone.

Kan sighed, well and truly resigned as she leant up against the wall.

“Two Offworlders knew that we had their Lightcore.” She cleared her throat, looking back at Lev. “And… they stole it back because… someone told them it was here.”

Lou Koval’s face was dangerously void of expression.

“How…” he began, “do a bunch of Offworlders… steal … a Lightcore, Kan?” He looked at Lev, and the young man instantly looked at the ground.

“And who”–Lou fists clenched on the table–“told them?”

Kan shook her head, biting the inside of her cheek as she looked away from Lou for the first time that day. The information she didn’t give rested in her dark eyes, giving her away.

So Lev said what she didn’t.

“The mechscrubber.” He sat up straighter in his seat, turning back to his employer. “Kan and I reckon she knew.”

The expected outburst that every mechanic thought Lou would have, never came.

“And how do you know that?” asked Lou, directing his attention to Kan.

Kan remained leaning against the wall, but she didn’t look as collected as she had a moment previously. She shook her head, blowing out a breath. “Look, we don’t know that it was Evren-”

Lev twisted in his seat, eyeing the Head Mechanic down. “You said yourself that you thought it was her,” he retorted testily. “You said she had been obsessed with that box since the Flirin at Local Registry gave it to us– And that the Offworlders had said a girl on the street told them where it was–”

Before Kan could respond, Lou closed his eyes and laughed.

All the mechanics looked at each other nervously. Except Kan, who kept her dark eyes glued to the laughing man.

“Oh,” Lou laughed, “oh, what a stupid girl…” He looked down at his desk, pressing his palms into the wood.

His mirth vanished as quick as it came. “Lev. Kan,” he said, looking up. “I’m putting you in charge of this escapade.” His eyes darkened. “Find that girl-”

Lev went to protest, “What? It’s not my fault. And-and It’ll takes us weeks to find her–”

Lou slammed a fist into his desk.

“Do not inflame your mistakes, boy.” His piercing gaze bore into Lev as he stared the younger man down. “You let her go.”

Lou looked to the other mechanics. “You let her escape.”

He turned his gaze finally to Kan, who still lent against the wall as she watched the proceedings.

“And you,” Lou pointed a finger at her, “were the one that wanted to hire her in the first place.”

He addressed the entire room.

“You know what? You all will find her, because I will make sure none of you work in Lisk again if you don’t.”

Lou closed his eyes, trying to remain calm as he spoke.

“And when you do find that mechscrubber, you’ll make sure she won’t cause any more problems for us…”

Kan’s eyes narrowed as Lou finished.

“...ever.”