To Mina, stepping onto Quay’s main street felt like stepping through a time machine. The buildings were stitched from corrugated scrap, lined in tidy rows with one broad thoroughfare cutting down the middle and narrow alleys branching off like veins. The closer they walked to the center, the thinner hope felt.
The oxsphere stirred dust in uneven gusts due to what had to be a dozen oxcellerators pushing grit into colliding swirls. Windows rattled behind makeshift shutters—some freshly painted, others flaking to rust.
People moved in dusters, cowls, and goggles, with most of their faces hidden save for their stares. It didn’t help that the crew drew those like flies to carrion.
Mina wore a meckanist’s jacket over her cryo-suit, tall work boots clomping in the grit next to Murphy’s far-from-pristine black uniform. Val still wore her cryosuit too, but sloshed along in baggy overalls cinched with rope, a blanket poncho draped over top. And she seemed put together compared to Roman who looked like he’d fallen into their meager lost and found covered in glue—pants too short, socks and boots mismatched, a jacket shredded to tassels.
They looked less like travelers than the remnants of vagabond parade. As the stares lingered, Mina couldn’t help but wonder why they hadn’t thought to take blending in more seriously. Part of their reasoning for splitting up had been to avoid looking suspicious.
At the town’s center, where buildings stretched four stories and foot traffic thickened, Mina ducked them into a narrow alley.
Alright,” she said, “we’re here. I saw what looked like a mart that way—?”
“Information,” Suraj interrupted, “There’s a building a street over with a winged star atop the doorway. The star was worn, but that’s an Asparian warden depot.”
“You want to go straight to the cops? That’s not information." Roman chided, “I thought the point of half us going was to keep a low profile.”
“We’re special transport with priority clearance. They’ll help.”
Val leaned toward the alley’s mouth, tone mischievous. “I thought you said information too.”
“I did, which is why we should speak to the Warden.” Suraj stepped beside Val to see what the woman was looking at, Mina did as well.
Hugging the corner of the main crossroads was a squat building, its doors swiveling in and out with customers below a neon red sign depicting a bottle breaking and unbreaking in intervals.
“We don’t need that kind of information,” Suraj said, voice heavy.
Roman slid an arm around Val’s shoulder conspiratorily, “sometimes the people know more than the suits, bravista.”
Suraj gave Mina a look, suggesting she rein them in this time, but she had her own plans.
“I say supplies first. If we end up drawing too much attention to ourselves we may not be able to get what we need.”
Her words tossed among them like dice in a cup.
Val smirked, “yeah, you do that. I’m getting a drink.”
“Information, Val. We’ll meet you two back here in an hour.” Roman said, then darted after her. Neither looked back to see if they followed
Mina half expected Suraj to chase after them. Instead, he took a billowing breath and set his jaw. I know exactly how you feel.
“Leave it to Val to find a saloon in space,” Mina tried softening the tension. “They’ll be fine. Now, supplies then the Warden outpost.”
“Warden first,” Suraj cut in, already striding away.
“What?” Mina had to skip to keep pace. “But what if—”
“Why would a reputable SportMeck team think the authorities wouldn’t be willing to help us?”
“You think we’re hiding something?” Mina shot back, which was hard to say forcibly given she was trying to keep up while looking natural to the other pedestrians. “We’re just—”
“Scared?”
Am I?
“I was going to say in shock, but sure. Who wouldn’t be?” Suraj didn’t reply right away. “So you’re not even a little bit scared?”
“No.”
Mina rolled her eyes and glanced back at the saloon, but Roman and Val had already vanished inside.
“So, macho-man, what’s your plan with the warden—and I’m not asking for any other reason than to know, okay?”
Suraj turned his head just slightly; Mina guessed it was to see if she was sincere.
“If they’re smart? Whatever we ask. Outposts like this are staffed by folks looking for a step up, or fresh from a demotion. Wouldn’t surprise me if they bought us rooms to sleep in and fetched transport to Jupiter themselves.”
And what are the odds those rooms are jail cells?
Mina didn’t actually believe they would but she couldn’t shake the feeling that they were woefully unprepared, and Suraj—they’re Bravista from the Orden, assigned by the Admiral himself—didn’t trust them either.
They climbed the two-step deck to the door, but Mina caught his arm, her fingers barely circling his wrist.
“Wait,” he paused, watching her behind the glassware. She tried to calm her voice, but was unsurprised to hear more than a little frustration along with it.
“What are you going to tell them?”
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“What do you mean?”
“I just think we should have our story straight—”
He gently removed her hand from his wrist, “I’m a Bravista, cabinet staff and second lieutenant to the Admiral. And If that weren’t enough I have a mission ID that can kick start the nearest convoy to our location. They won’t need to hear any more than that.”
“And if they do?” She held up her hands to give him pause, “part of your mission is to keep what my father was doing quiet, right? At least until we get to Jupiter. So Occam, the Razor… we only tell the Warden what they need to know, agreed?”
She fidgeted under his gaze. She’d met only a handful of Bravistas in her time, and Suraj Murphy was perhaps the most unsettling. At least he’s not one of the Vanguardia Carmesi.
“Anything else?” Mina noted a note of sarcasm, which was at least some change. He didn’t wait for her reply before reaching for the door, and finding it locked.
They shaded their eyes against the glass, and though it was reflective, she thought she could see someone moving inside.
“Maybe they’re closed?” Mina offered.
Suraj surveyed the door frame, then tapped a small device mounted beside the door.
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“ID scanner,” he said.
“So do they buzz us in? Shouldn’t they be open in case people need help?”
“My guess is they’ve had issues with drifters. Too many unsanctioned ID tags,” he pressed his thumb to the plate. A tired ding sounded, as if the scanner’s batteries had died.
He pulled at the handle again but the door remained locked. At closer inspection Mina realized the door was much stronger than it looked. The building seemed old but it was all one solid piece of metal, unlike the other buildings, and the door hinges were recessed. The glass itself was likely space grade.
“Maybe we both have to scan,” she said. Suraj didn’t object, so she pressed her thumb down. Another weak ding, and a click, then Suraj went inside. You’re welcome.
Inside, a narrow ante chamber lead to a raised desk. The man behind it sat like a judge on a too-tall bench.
“Yeup?” he said as they approached.
Suraj straightened, cuffs tugged neat, “we’re here on Empire business. We need to speak to the warden. Immediately.”
“Immediately,” the man echoed, pen scratching.
Silence stretched. Suraj cleared his throat. “Sir. The Empire—”
“Empire,” the man repeated slowly. He dabbed his stylus on his tongue like it was in need of ink.
Mina craned around the desk. The office beyond had two others—one snoozing under a wide hat, the other filing slabs at the pace molasses runs down trees. She turned back as Suraj’s hand pressed flat on the desk.
That at least got the person’s full attention, though his visage was a regrettable one. A poorly healed scar cracked his face from nose to chin. He wore a mustache in an attempt to hide it, but it just gave the impression his lips were falling off his face in opposite directions.
A beady black eye inspected them through a glassware monocle.
“You’ll notice I’ve taken yer message,” he drawled, “don’t figure you’ve forgotten the door, have you?”
He tried peeling Suraj’s hand up by the finger. His face creased with the effort.
“Biggun, aren’t ya?”
Suraj pulled his hand out of the man’s grip with casual ease, startling him, and causing him to clutch at his ledger as if they were there to steal it.
“Where is your superior officer?”
“My what? Boy, do you know where ye are? We’re as much a part of the empire as a turn on the homeland itself.” His grin split the scarred skin wider, as though the thought of being so remote gave him actual pleasure.
“You know what? Did ye say the Warden? My mistake, I think I just heard him,” he jabbed a thumb toward the door, “right around back. Left at the alley there’s two dumpsters. Left one’s ours. Go head and lift the lid, holler down, and if no one answers, try the other.”
He tried very hard not to laugh at his own joke.
“He’s an idiot. Let’s just go around,” she stepped to the side and made to pass the desk.
The laughter cut, and the side paneling of the desk sprung toward her. Mina threw her arms over her face—
Thunk..
She opened her eyes to find Suraj standing between her and the panel, his shoulder braced against the surface as he slowly forced it to retract back into place. Metal screamed as he shoved it one last time, and smoke bled from the seams.
Speechless, Mina stared but Suraj didn’t look at her, only squared his stance, and was taller somehow.
The clerk’s grin turned mean, “biggun, indeed. You know what, I got a superior for you right here.”
He reached underneath his desk with a crooked smile, and returned leveling a double barrel pistol right at Suraj’s head.
“Go on, tell him what you came to say.”
Mina froze. This man was certainly an idiot, but an idiot with a gun was just as dangerous as anyone else with one.
“Not so important now, are ya?” the man crooned. “I’ve got your message now, so that’ll be all folks.”
Mina wasn’t sure if they were supposed to move till the man nodded with the gun and raised his eyebrows.
“I said good day.”
Suraj stepped sideways, smooth and deliberate, keeping himself between Mina and the gun. She remained in his shadow till her back hit the door.
She twisted, shoved it open, and bolted into the street, not breathing until she hit the alley beside the building.
Turning around, she realized Suraj wasn’t behind her. Panic flared and she bent into the street to see where he’d gone, only to find him strolling from the doorway with a flourish of his cuffs
Mina yanked him into the alley as soon as he neared, “what the hell was that?” She looked back at the door, half expecting the man to have followed them out.
“Nothing,” he scanned the street with bored precision, then saw her panic for the first time. “It’s fine.”
“We just had a gun pointed at us—by the warden! That can’t be fine.”
“That’s not the warden.”
Heart pounding she chanced another look at the door, but Suraj was right.
“Okay, so he’s not in charge. What if his boss is worse?”
“We’ll deal with it. People like that aren’t as much trouble as they seem.”
Mina swallowed a dozen question, like how many outposts had Suraj seen? Why was he so sure this warden wouldn’t be worse? And how did he block that panel so easily?
“First time?” he asked.
She blinked, “what?”
“Was that the first time someone’s pointed a gun at you?”
She took inventory of her emotions and found her hands were shaking.
“Yeah,” she said after a moment, “thanks for stepping in like that, Suraj.”
He nodded.
“You can call me Murphy. And try not to over think it. It’s natural to freeze and takes a while not to.”
“How long?”
Mina thought he almost smiled at that.
“It’s different for everyone, but after a while, it all blends together.”
Then she realized that this was all field work for him—he was literally on the job right now. Suddenly the heroics didn’t seem so heroic anymore.
“Let’s get moving.” Suraj said.
Mina’s legs felt like gelatin but she didn’t argue.
“Where to?”
“Supplies. We’ll try it your way, and wait for the real warden to return.”
Mina glanced at the street, seeing not the eyes of people watching but their black reflective goggles in the kicking wind, and there was a tension hissing in the air, a fizzling like a fuse being lit from far away, but growing louder with each passing moment.
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