Having found a crate of Military non-duty utilities, Kella stepped from the Praetorian’s boarding ramp and onto the grimy metal landing platform. A cold wind swept over her, and combined with the dense shadow covering the lower levels, Kella involuntarily shivered. She fidgeted with the vest she was wearing, mindlessly checking the pockets as she walked quickly past the un-manned scanning post and into the complex.
The scanning post made an automatic, cursory examination with the supposed intent of checking for hidden weapons. It apparently was just for show, because it didn’t detect any of the three separate weapons she had hidden about her person. She checked, but saw no surveillance, no cameras, no nothing. Quickly moving past the scanner, Kella disappeared into the bowels of the Complex.
The Port City Docking Complex was a hive of crisscrossing access shafts, elevator shafts, tunnels, pipelines, cable trunks, railways, anti-grav tubes, ladders, poles, slides, stairs, elevators, and any and all other means of transportation. Guideposts were posted every two feet, but after the first couple of signs, she realized that they were not only inaccurate, but completely wrong. At one time they may have actually been properly posted, but now they were useless.
According to Gavin’s instructions, who had apparently been to Tal Rho’an once before for an ‘extended’ visit as he put it, whatever that meant, she had to take a myriad of transports up and towards the center of the massive structure. He couldn’t provide her a direct map, but instead gave her an ingenious means of navigation. The complex was designed with heating in mind to keep out the cold bite of the tundra and as a result, breezes would constantly blow out from the center towards the outside. As long as she walked with warm air blowing in her face, she’d be headed towards the center and if the air got cooler, she was going down. So she simply needed to keep the warm air blowing on her face, and she’d eventually reach the location she was looking for.
Which, according to Gavin, was a large open-air bazaar named Tal Renna’fa that was supposedly ‘impossible to miss’ and she’d recognize it by several ways: the place was a massive open-air marketplace that would be swamped with people, draped in magnificent red colors, and would stink like nothing she’d ever smelled before. Not really an exact GPS location, but he assured her that she’d probably end up there no matter which way she went. Getting back to the Praetorian would be the hard part. For that, she had her d-com running in tracking mode and had a solid locator lock on the plane. The d-com was tracking every change in direction she made, and would give an exact route back to the plane. Unless, of course, the scenery changed by time she returned.
She tried to maintain as simple a course as she could as she made her way through the Complex, following the rank, warm air, but the effort was hampered by any number of areas that were either blocked, or under construction, forcing her to make endless detours. The d-com kept up, but just barely as she had to stop for over a full minute waiting for the device to catch up and fix the route back.
Finally, she came out on a raised balcony of sorts high up off the ground. Below her stretched a seemingly never-ending marketplace bathed in the weak sunlight. Everywhere she looked, crammed into every available space were hundreds of bright red canvas canopies, banners, and tents. The effect, with the breeze blowing through was that of an endless, gigantic pool of blood. Kella found that she was slightly disgusted by the sight, but quickly located a stairwell that led down into the mix.
Things were even worse in the bazaar. Smells assaulted her nose, ranging from the sweet to the rank. Some she recognized, most she didn’t, and all mingled together they formed a smell so rancid that she would have trouble forgetting it as she was already gagging on it. Gavin has described the place perfectly, and she now understood why his directions were so vague. Tal Renna’fa stretched for much of the upper levels of the Port City Docking Complex and she wouldn’t be surprised if every road led there.
From here, finding Gavin’s contact would be a bit harder. He had told her that the man had his own stall, or rather, a warehouse located in the northeast corner of the bazaar. Unfortunately, working her way through the bazaar would be near impossible with all the twists, turns, and dead-ends. Gavin said that it was a daily occurrence that bodies, long since dead, would turn up – people that had gotten lost, starved to death or murdered, and forgotten until the market shifted, which it was prone to do every couple of years depending on which syndicate held power.
For this particular problem, Gavin said he’d be able to update her d-com with a route. The plan had been for Gavin to launch one of his remotes, an aerial sensor type, and guide her with a bird’s eye view. Unfortunately, Gavin hadn’t made contact yet and Kella was starting to grow worried. There were too many people crushed together, too many dark alleys, too many ways for things to go wrong, and in this type of environment, the longer you stayed, the greater the chances of those things actually going wrong.
“Are you lost, my dear?” a voice came from nearly behind Kella’s right ear. She spun around quickly, almost losing balance, but nobody was as close as the voice had been. Had she imagined it?
“Over here, my lady,” the voice came again. Kella looked around and saw a small, paunchy man beckoning her towards a small stall that strangely held no wares. He wore a large smile, and seemed largely harmless. Kella immediately knew she was in trouble.
“Kella, are you there?” Gavin’s voice came in over the d-com’s earpiece, full of static.
“Where the hell have you been?” Kella whispered forcefully into the vox patch on her collar as she smiled at the fat man by the stall, waving him off.
“Sorry, the remote gave me some problems. I’m dialing in right now, about twenty feet above you. How do I sound?”
“Better,” Kella said as she started to back away from the stall. The fat man began to beckon more urgently, trying to catch her attention again.
“Wow, you found him already,” Gavin said as the remote hovered some meters off the ground behind Kella.
“Found who?”
“The contact. Follow him,” Gavin said.
“Are you out of your mind?” Kella nearly shouted into the vox patch. The bazaar was too loud, and her shout of indignation went unnoticed.
“Is that a trick question?” Gavin joked, but quickly turned serious. “But seriously, he’s the guide. He’ll take you to where you want to go. I’ll be following right behind, but still, make sure your pistol is where you can reach it.”
“Got it,” Kella said sourly. She turned back towards the stall and the paunchy man and forced a smile as she walked up to him.
“I almost thought,” the little man started, “but no, never mind. Right this way,” he said as he began to move back past the stalls and into the shadows. Without saying anything else, the man picked his route, seemingly at random; turning every so often to make sure Kella was still following. Eventually, her d-com gave up and threw up an error with the tracking program and Kella let out a ‘tch’.
After almost twenty minutes of turns, twists, back tracks, and secret alleyways, Kella found herself before a large warehouse. A long line of people stood waiting before the large doors. Kella’s guide led her right up and inside the doors and people began to shout and curse at her preferential treatment.
“He still remembers the old days,” Gavin said over the d-com. “I set up the meeting with an old password, to help make things go a little smoother,” Gavin explained.
“Great,” Kella whispered back as the large warehouse doors closed behind her. The little, fat man had disappeared in the gloom, and she was standing alone with the door at her back.
“And who do we have here?” boomed a voice from the main floor of the warehouse, which had been raised off the floor into a half-assed dais. Striding down from the stage was a tall man, lean but good looking, and immaculately dressed and groomed. “You, my dear, are not Mr. Cross.”
“No,” Kella conceded, “but I am here on his behalf.”
The man looked over Kella critically with his jaw between his fingers, as if he were scrutinizing wares to be bought. She found the stare uncomfortable and moved a step forward. His eyes snapped up to meet hers immediately.
“That Gavin; always knew how to pick them,” the man said under his breath, but intentionally loud enough for her to hear. “Forgive my poor manners, I haven’t introduced myself. I am Sorsa Kei, a humble purveyor of luxury items, and information. According to the meeting request from Mr. Cross, it seems he has gotten himself into quite a bit of trouble and is in dire need of my services. This can, of course, be arranged.” Sorsa smiled disarmingly and Kella tried not to be drawn into the charm.
“Keep your head, Sellsword. He’s as ruthless as he is charming,” Gavin warned rather quickly from the earpiece.
“But I do have some concern,” Sorsa said, his smile fading a hair. “Like, why Mr. Cross could not, himself, come to this meeting. I do appreciate him sending such a lovely stand in, don’t get me wrong, but I prefer to conduct business fact to face.”
“Always was a womanizer,” Gavin commented as Kella groaned slightly in disgust at Sorsa’s low compliment. “Tell him exactly what I tell you,” Gavin said, getting a sudden idea.
Kella obliged, and began repeating from Gavin. “Mr. Cross wanted to be here in person, but after your last meeting, opted to remain out of arms’ reach. He left a message with me, for you.”
Sorsa laughed. It was an unpleasant laugh that sent hairs standing on end across Kella’s arms and neck. Tension had just gone up several notches in the room. “Is that so? Opted to remain out of arms’ reach, is it? Really? Well then, what was this message?” Sorsa was still smiling, but the smile had gone cold, and he looked almost angry.
“He wanted me to tell you that you are a perverted sunovabitch and that if you’d put as much effort into your business dealings as you do your womanizing, you’d be running Tal Renna’fa instead of renting out a shed on the back lot.” Kella’s eyes went wide as she realized what she’d just repeated from Gavin. This man had the muscle standing around the dais to easily subdue her, and she’d just insulted the man. He already wasn’t pleased with her arrival. The warehouse suddenly went deathly quiet. Hearing her insult their master had brought the goons to attention and they were quickly moving towards Kella. She took a few nervous steps backwards while whispering desperately into the vox patch, “Gavin..”
“Don’t move,” Gavin whispered back. Kella immediately stood her ground and watched as the goons got closer, and she felt herself unconsciously dropping into a combat posture. Mere feet from each other, a loud snap pierced the silence of the dusty warehouse, and the goons stopped. All heads turned back towards Sorsa who stood watching Kella with utmost interest. It was unlike his last stare. He was now appraising her as a person, not an object, or if not a person, then at least a proper opponent.
“Interesting,” he said after a moment. “Gavin is listening in, isn’t he?”
“Jig’s up,” Gavin whispered humorously.
“Yes, he is,” Kella confirmed, silently agreeing with Gavin.
Sorsa laughed again, but this time it was a soft, genuine laugh and instantly broke the tension in the room. Suddenly the man’s demeanor changed. “Come this way, make yourself at ease, you are among friends.” Sorsa clapped and the goons all but disappeared. Shaking her head in wonder, Kella followed Sorsa across the dais and into a series of halls and offices built along the rear of the warehouse.
They entered through a door at the back of the hall and entered a completely different environment. Gone was the old dusty warehouse, and in its place was a sprawling mansion of a king. Massive fur rugs lined the floor with large oak desks and chairs set throughout. Along the walls were fine artworks and collections of plasma weapons, mono-blades, classic vintage swords and other assorted weapons of several eras. Kella recognized some of the collections and she knew a few of them could sell for enough to purchase a few moons.
“Like my home?” Sorsa said as he walked around to a large cushioned char and sat down.
“You have an amazing collection,” Kella commented.
Sorsa chortled. “Go ahead and pick one out.”
Kella looked around and found a mono-blade of simple, yet finely crafted design. She moved forward to pull it from its casing, but the image warbled and distorted as her hand moved through the illusion. She quickly pulled her hand back and turned to Sorsa who was smiling.
“Holo-displays. Top of the line. This way I can showcase my collection while keeping them safely hidden elsewhere. Such steps are required on a planet like Tal Rho’an, I’m afraid. But in my line of business, the reward far outweighs the risk. But I have to admit, you have an excellent eye,” Sorsa said as he walked over to the display holo. “That piece was extremely hard to come by, and most people consider it of poorer quality than its shinier brethren. The truth is, that blade is one of the richest in my collection.”
“It seemed to be of higher quality than it let on,” Kella confessed, “which is what made me stop and look at it.”
“Amazing,” Sorsa said, truly impressed. “Consider it a gift.”
“No, I can’t,” Kella said immediately and backing away from Sorsa. The man just laughed and shook his head in amusement.
“I like this one Gavin. Excellent taste, my old friend,” Sorsa said loudly enough for Gavin to hear. Kella, not amused, but ignoring the fact that she was being treated as if she weren’t in the room took out the earpiece and brought up the volume on her d-com. Gavin would catch hell for this mess later.
“Hello Sorsa,” Gavin said jovially. “Can we get to business?”
“After she accepts my gift, I insist,” Sorsa said stubbornly.
“She accepts,” Gavin said, sounding disgruntled.
“I want to hear her say it,” Sorsa replied childishly.
“I can’t accept such a fine gift,” Kella refused again.
“Pity,” Sorsa said, sounding disappointed, but looking satisfied. “Yes, yes, on to business then,” he said changing gears and sitting back down on his plush chair. “What trouble have you gotten yourself into this time, old friend?”
“Remember the Protector Program?” Gavin said.
“The one with the AI Core?” Sorsa replied, sounding bored.
“Yes.”
“A little. I remember hearing it was a complete failure, and then a complete success. My contact sounded rather confused at the time. He was later found face down in a ditch in Dulabar, as I recall,” Sorsa said as if the fact was odd, but nothing more.
“Well, I was the success,” Gavin said.
“I don’t follow. Gav, please. I hate it when you do this. It’s an annoying habit of yours. Please just get to the damned point.”
“They put me inside the damned computer, Sorsa. I’m the AI!” Gavin said exasperated.
Sorsa immediately sat forward. “They did what? Well that’s not good is it?”
“No. I need to find someone with the skill in AI to Human interfaces to try and extract me from the VI gestalt I’m hooked to.”
“That a tough order, my friend,” Sorsa said disinterestedly, leaning back and examining his fingernails.
“How much is this going to cost me?” Gavin said flatly.
“Now that’s the interesting question,” Sorsa said, sitting forward and smiling. Kella sat straighter unconsciously. “How have your bank accounts been recently, my friend?”
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