Here Be Monsters - Chapter 22

     "So, what's the plan, big guy?"  Said Rollie to Dirk, after seeing the size of the lineup outside of the Hyperwave.
     "Like I said before:  Have faith, and follow my lead."  Dirk replied, with a grin that belonged to a used car salesman, and turned to Alex.  "Ready to go?"  He asked.
     "I was born ready, Marine.  Let's do this."  Alex said, as she stepped off the curb, and they headed for the door, where a two hundred meter line of people waiting to enter began.
     Rollie nearly blew it when the three of them got to where the club's doormen watched the entrance, and he nearly freaked out when the door opened, giving him a good look inside.  One of the club's bouncers was an FBR.
     Full Body Replacement cyborgs were rare, since very few people could pass the extensive screening process, much less afford the cost of the procedure.  Dirk doubted that there were more than a handful of FBRs on Minotaur, certainly no more than a dozen.  The resources to maintain - not just the cybernetics, but also mental health - were far more limited outside of Earth's solar system.
     FBR Cyborgs were a byproduct of the fracturing of the United States of America into the United Northern States, the Western American Federation, and the New Confederate South.  The second war of secession had been a long, drawn out affair, that only ended with the dissolution of the USA into three new, independent nation states.  The UNS decided to move forward with cybernetic enhancement of its soldiers as a way of balancing the Confederacy's numerically superior military strength.  The WAF followed a few months later, and were the first to field soldiers who had undergone total body prosthesis.  Most of the original FBR cyborgs were soldiers who were facing major trauma to limbs and organs, or who were terminally ill, and even a few volunteers.  The first series of soldiers fielded didn't quite meet the high expectations of the military commanders, but their successes gave enough proof of concept to warrant continued research and production.  It was only after a few months that some of them began showing signs of psychological stress, and from there it was a matter of weeks until the first one had a full blown psychotic episode.  That nameless soldier had the great misfortune to be at a public event when he finally lost control, killing over 30 people before an urban antiterrorism unit used an anti armor rifle to stop further bloodshed.  There were other incidents over the next few years, as other FBRs also became catatonic, committed suicide, or turned into combat addicts.  A few seemed to have no problem adjusting to their new circumstances over the long term, but even among those, there was the odd one who became a truly frightening sociopath, reveling in acts of horrific violence, yet outwardly normal.  Needless to say, the newly formed Confederacy's religious leaders had no problem turning out propaganda that painted cybernetically enhanced, and modified soldiers, as 'the footsoldiers of Satan'.
     The individual at the entrance to the club was over two meters tall, and had his body done in a mottled earth tone.  He had a half dozen optics in the face of his chassis and the 'rabbit ears' that made up a part of his auditory sensors probably housed microcameras that could be used to see around corners without exposing him to things like enemy fire.  He was dressed in ATACS camo fatigue pants, with a black T-shirt bearing the logo of a Marine Corp Explosive Ordnance Disposal unit, and the following message: 'I am an EOD specialist.  If you see me running, try to keep up!'
     It was a joke as old as dynamite, but it still got a laugh from people who'd never seen what high explosives did to the human body.
     He was standing at the entryway when Dirk, Alex, and Rollie strolled up, and the cyborg twitched an 'ear' in their direction, and one of his optics turned to give him a visual ID.
     "Line's over there, kids."  He said, neutrally, tipping his head in the direction of the crowd snaking along the side of the building, and around the block.
     Dirk grabbed Rollie, before his fear of FBRs - which were rooted in prejudices that originated on Earth, where he'd never been, ironically - got the better of him, and propelled him towards the door.  Having made certain he wasn't going to bolt out of sheer terror, Dirk turned his attention to the doorman.
     "You might want to check the list, mister, under the name 'Jester'.  Pretty sure that we're on it.  I can wait "  He said to the cyborg, in a tone of martyred patience that he'd learned from an old Drill Sargent.
     The 'borg must have recognized the tone more than the content of the request, because he kept his eyes on the three of them while checking the club's records.  He muttered a 'Hunh' as he discovered that, indeed, there was a reservation under that name.
     "Says here that the reservation was made today, which is mighty impressive, considering as how it normally takes up to four months.  Unless you got an in with the owner that I don't know about?"  He said, conversationally, now looking Dirk over with four of his six eyes.
     Dirk simply smiled, and shrugged his shoulders without saying a thing.
     There was very tense minute where he figured the game was up, and he was getting ready to grab Alex and Rollie, and make a run for it, when the 'borg lifted the old-fashioned red velvet rope across the entryway, and stepped aside to let them through.  Dirk was smart enough to see that it would be a good idea to be generous, and palmed a 50 ASC note into the cyborg's hand as he shook it on the way in.
     They stared at one another in recognition that they had both saved face, but said nothing further as the inner doors opened, and the lights, music, and background noise of the Known Sphere's hottest nightclub rushed up to greet the trio.
     The club was built in an old building that had once been home to some kind of light industry, but had been completely gutted, and turned into a multi level combination of bar lounge, and a dance floor, with a stage at one end for live entertainment.  Booths ringed the upper level on three sides, and there was a bar to cater to the clients who preferred to drink in comfort.  The lower level had bars to either side on railed platforms along the walls with small, high tables at which patrons could stand, without having to juggle their drinks in a crowd of gyrating revelers.
     Alex was already headed for the main floor, and Dirk let her go; she loved to dance, but Dirk was totally out of his depth on a dance floor, so he settled for watching her instead.  He had to admit - if only to himself - that watching her swaying and twisting in time to the music resulted in a reflexive desire on his part.  She waded into the sea of strangers unselfconsciously, and interacted with them completely without inhibition.
     He caught her eye from the platform along the side of the floor, and gestured that he and Rollie were headed for the upper level bar to order drinks.  She gave him a thumbs up, before turning back to the rhythmic chaos around her.  He and Rollie made their was to one of the two wide staircases that gave access to the second level lounge, and found a table near the edge overlooking the dance floor.
     "OK Dirk, I give up, how the hell did you manage a last minute reservation on the guest list?"  Asked Rollie, finally.
     Dirk smiled, and said, in a patronizing tone of voice:  "I could tell you, but then I'd have to kill you." 
     Rollie gave him an old-fashioned look, and rolled his eyes.  Turning around to get a better view of the patrons in the lounge, he was able to flag down a server, and promptly ordered several drinks on the basis that, if the club is busy, service will be grudging, and sporadic - so place a big order up front.  Dirk took his cue from Rollie, and ordered a couple of drinks for Alex, as well as his own.
     Dirk let his eyes roam across the crowd in the lounge, and he became peripherally aware of something he couldn't quite put his finger on.  The hard lessons of his youth caused the sudden awareness to sharpen his focus, and he started paying close attention to his surroundings.  He got up off his seat, and told Rollie to save their place, then moved away from the table, towards one of the exits for the restrooms.  He was almost to the restroom door when his gaze wandered along the bar, and he saw a man staring at him over the rim of a coffee cup.
     The cup came down giving dirk a good look at the man's face, and his blood ran cold.
     It was Thorne.
     Did he know?  He thought frantically.  And if he did, was it because he was on the job?
     The face behind the coffee cup was one he never thought he'd see again in person, or rather, hoped he'd never see in person.  He was as professional a contract killer as ever lived, and he seemed to have a very keen interest in Dirk.  There were a large number of people, now dead, who, could they talk, would say that if Thorne took an interest in you, it was time to settle affairs.  Thorne had once worked for Dirk's father, but they'd had a falling out, and Thorne had left under something of a cloud.  It was rumored that he had worked for the Cartel as their top tier enforcer, but had left them to strike out on his own.  The fact that the Cartel had let him go was a testament as to just how dangerous Thorne really was.
     He decided that the man sitting at the bar was worth the risk of approaching, since they were both exiles of the same sort.  He walked through the restroom door, waited for two minutes, then walked out, and headed for the bar where his observer was still seated.  He walked up and waited until the bartender had taken his order before speaking.
     "You on my case for business?"  He asked, simply, without looking directly at the man.
     There was no immediate reply, but Dirk could feel the man staring at him.
     "Do your friends know who, and what, you are?"  He asked, finally breaking his stony silence.  "I mean, I can tell at a glance, but they wouldn't be able to, would they?  Are you slumming, or did I miss a meeting, or something?"
     Dirk considered the risk of trying to kill the man, sitting within arms reach, and just eliminating the threat now.  He didn't get to think very hard.
     "Don't even think about it, kid.  I may have left a long time ago, but I can still kick your ass."  He said, giving Dirk pause.  "Calm down.  For what its worth, I didn't know you were offworld, and I - sure as shit - did not expect to see anyone from your family here."
     Dirk was, to his embarrassment, relieved that Thorne wasn't here at his family's request, but he needed to know that he wasn't going to be exposed.  He didn't think that his friends knowing who his family was would be a very good idea.
     "Look, I just need to know that you aren't planning to Judas me out, OK?"  Dirk asked, without pleading.
     "I'd be willing to bet that, if I did, you'd have no qualms about letting your people know where to find me; so you can safely assume that your dirty little secret is safe, as far as I'm concerned."  Thorne replied.
     The implication, that others might be able to identify him, and quietly leak such information to interested parties, hung in the air between them, unsaid, but acutely understood.
     Dirk finished his drink, said "Thanks." And walked back to his table, where Alex had finally joined Rollie, and the two of them were engaged in a lively discussion of some sort.  He was greeted by Alex with a kiss, that he somehow managed to put up with, and tried to put the old anxieties surrounding his family's reaction to his leaving the fold at rest.
     The music changed to something slow, and Alex grabbed his hand, pulling him to his feet.
     "I promise, DJ, just the slow songs.  Come on, Marine."  She said, when he resisted being dragged downstairs to dance.
     "OK, just the slow songs."  He parroted, and followed her.
      He was waltzing along, Alex's head tucked against his jaw, when he caught sight of Thorne, looking down at him from the balcony above.  He was smiling, and shaking his head slightly, as if he couldn't believe what he was seeing.  Dirk understood, after all, he knew exactly what his family would think of his relationship with Alex.  He had rejected their blind, unthinking bigotry without hesitation, and he was a happier person for it.
     The song faded away, becoming something faster, more electrifying, and Alex twisted away from him.  She held her arms up, and was swaying her hips to the beat, maintaining eye contact all the while, the invitation plain.
     Oh, what the hell, he thought, at least I won't look any more idiotic than the rest of the people out here.
     He danced, and after a while, he managed to have fun.

Here Be Monsters - Chapter 21

     DeSouza.
     The officer with the thick neck's name was DeSouza, and he had barged into Cameron's private office, raving about his investigation being hampered by the ship's crew.  Cameron had listened to him complain for the better part of five minutes, which was about four minutes longer than he normally would, but he wanted to see how deep the man was going to dig the hole he was in.
     Very deep, it turned out.
     "I demand that you recall your man for further questioning, Marshall, and that he be restricted to this ship until I'm satisfied with his answers.  If it were only up to me, I'd just impound your ship, and -"  the sharp, gunshots crack of Cameron's hand suddenly slamming down onto the top of his desk cut DeSouza's voice off mid rant, and he sat, motionless, simply staring at the man before speaking.
     "It's not up to you, though, is it?  In fact, I've actually given you broader access than I'm required to, haven't I?  All I'm legally expected to do is ensure that witnessed depositions have been provided, and you've got those.  Now, I'm telling you that you're off my ship before the next watch, and if you even so much as think of interrogating a member of my crew without my express permission, you'll find yourself facing harassment charges.  Now, get out."
     Cameron's tone made it clear that he was uninterested in debating the matter, and very pointedly ignored the USPF officer by picking up one of the data tablets on his desk, and beginning to review the reports thereon.  He was becoming impatient with the officer still sitting in the chair across from his desk, and addressed him without looking up.
     "If don't leave my office on your own, I will have you dragged out.  By your balls."  He told DeSouza, genially.
     He could hear DeSouza grinding his teeth as he got up and turned to leave.
     Obnoxious prick,  he thought to himself,  probably couldn't get a job in real law enforcement.
     Corporate investigators would never dream of acting like that on a privately owned ship.  Especially if they didn't have a security team waiting around, and Minotaur's planetary law enforcement arm, the Space Enforcement Agency, had armed cutters at its disposal for investigations, which gave them some teeth if they needed to press a point home.  The USPF had ships for its various enforcement agencies, but these two were clearly not part of UniSys' elite, since they had arrived on an orbital tug.
     The USPF was predominantly made up of two kinds of people:  Those who were new, and still brimming with idealistic beliefs about what the United Systems represented; and those who had fucked up so badly in another law enforcement branch, be it local, planetary, or Corporate, that they had no choice but to join the USPF in order to avoid a drastic change of work environment.  He had met both in his career in space, and he would be more than willing to bet that DeSouza was one of the latter.  He'd probably gotten on the wrong side of someone higher up the food chain than himself, and been too stubborn to call it quits when it became obvious that he was heading for a fall.
     Cameron had almost pitied DeSouza.  Having to interview Dirk - about anything - was bound to be a pain in the ass, but he had been incredibly rude and needlessly boorish, so Cameron had settled for just keeping an eye on things to make sure that nothing got out of hand.  Rollie had called to explain what he'd done before the cargo transfer shuttle had left, and Cameron had been forced to admit that he had probably saved lives, so he'd told them to grab their bags and go planetside with the cargo.  They'd been planning on going anyway, so this was just killing two birds with one stone.
     Having worked the better part of a decade for a good sized multisolar corporation, he knew that, where the Alliance was the 300 kilo gorilla, UniSys was a 500 kilogram grizzly bear.  Most privateer ship captains wouldn't bend over backwards for UniSys police officers, but tended to regard the United Systems Defense Force with far greater trepidation.  The fact that the USDF tended to regard privateers as little more than spacegoing mercenaries at best, and undisciplined outlaws with a taste for piracy in general, tended to cause people like Cameron to tread lightly.
     The USDF was the military branch of UniSys, and regardless of the name, its ranks were almost exclusively Terran. The officer corps was even less diverse, and tended to be made up of Europeans, Asians, and North Americans.  Less than one percent of the people serving in the USDF came from outside the Sol system.  Cameron was of the opinion that the reason for the lack of representation from other worlds was simply because Earth had a far larger pool of desperate and unemployed, for whom the risks of military service off-planet were more desirable than poverty or starvation.  It was a widely known fact that most colony worlds had near zero unemployment, and crime rates that fell well below the average compared to those of even the European Hegemony.
     He was just glad that the UniSys office hadn't sent investigators with any real talent, because, although rare, every once in a while UniSys managed to snap up an agent with real skills, and they were trouble.  He was aware that his crew were no angels, and most of them probably had reasons for wanting to avoid an agency with powers of detention that crossed interstellar borders.
     All of which was irrelevant, next to how much of a world of shit you were going to be in if you crossed a Multisolar the wrong way.  Haro-Ryushi MS was one of the smaller multisolar corporations, and their last quarterly report to shareholders had proudly announced that the company had an annual gross corporate product of 3.85 trillion Alliance Standard Credits.  Their profits for just one quarter were over 36 billion ASC which obviously meant that the shareholders stayed happy.  His modest holding of Haro-Ryushi stock paid a decent dividend, and helped him keep his ship and crew going during lean times.  Which made it imperative for him to make certain that his actions didn't cause them any trouble.  The company was more diversified than most people would have believed, and although they were technically a company that specialized in planetary engineering, they maintained lucrative sidelines in land settlement, mining, agriculture, light manufacturing, and space exploration, just to name a few.  Even though H-R was relatively small, they still maintained a security force of around 3700, all of whom were hired from national militaries, and law enforcement agencies.  Which sounded like a lot, until you found out that Haro-Ryushi employed over ten million people in over half a dozen systems, including Earth's.
     The Cartel was more than twelve times that size.
     If corporations were like autonomous organisms, as many economists have said, then the Cartel was an apex predator.
     Founded sometime in the latter half of the 21st century, the people who had set it all in motion had planned to get rich.  What they hadn't counted on, was that their creation would become one of the very institutions it had been intended to control, and then turn on them.  Like the ancient Hebrew story of the golem, the Cartel had been brought to life for a purpose, but it had developed a will all its own.  It was not just astronomically large, it was omnipresent, amorphous, and amoral to the point of sociopathy, and it reached out into just about every corner of the Known Sphere.  It controlled a pool of resources rivaled by only the Imperial family of Darkael, who claimed an entire solar system as their personal demesne, with a subject population of over 75 million.  The Cartel's enormous wealth was nearly impossible to comprehend in human terms, and viewed from a distance, appeared to control the people around it, rather than it being controlled by them.  That disconnect happened at Haro-Ryushi, if on a much smaller scale, and the realization had been the spur to Cameron's decision to make an exit on the best terms possible.
     Now, he was poised to make his own fortune; the like of which most privateers could only dream of.  He just hoped that his planning hadn't been in vain, and the assumptions around which he had engineered those plans didn't turn out to be so much wishful thinking.  Regardless of the eventual outcome, he could sleep well, knowing that he had seized the opportunity when it had come around.
     Fortune favors the bold.  he thought, as he picked up another report.

Here Be Monsters - Chapter 20

     The rain was coming down in warm, fat drops that splashed onto the concrete landing field of the spaceport.  In the .87G of Minotaur's gravity, the large drops impacted surfaces gently, giving the impression of a light rain, when in reality, it was a deluge.  The humidity carried a scent of salt water from the east, where large cargo shuttles were using the relatively calm waters as a landing field, and a vaguely spicy, floral scent from the north where Banghi was known to flourish.  The scent was an olfactory assault for which it was difficult to prepare, and Alex felt a sneeze coming on.  She always sneezed the first day on planet, but some planets were worse than others; she wouldn't go planetside at Vulcanfall, because sneezing was all she could do there without wearing a facemask.  It was a mild type of allergic reaction to the local pollens and airborne particles, but it rarely lasted more than a few hours on Minotaur.  Of all of the planets in the Known Sphere, however, Nova Sol was her favorite, it was the planet on which she'd been born, and the only one that didn't make her sneeze.
     The spaceport was linked to Níngjìng Bay by a high-speed maglev railway that continued along the coast to several smaller cities south of the capital, and to several communities in the interior of the continent.  The dozen crew members of the Jester who had signed up for shore leave besides Alex included Bao-Jian and Jinx, both of whom had family here.
     Bao-Jian's parents had emigrated to Minotaur from Earth; his father from Hong Kong, and his mother from Vancouver.  Jinx was descended from four generations of Minotauran Chinese on both sides of her family, and she took a certain pride in the fact that her family were all native born, from the first wave of colonists, no less.  Both of them were looking out the window, chatting in Minotauran dialect Chinese, which was fairly close to Mandarin, but Alex's comprehension of the language was limited, and she couldn't keep up with the conversation.
     She turned to look out the window, next to which Dirk was sitting, and looked past him to the picturesque scenery of coastal farms, and wharves where small, recreational boats were tied up.  She wanted to try out sailing, just once, before they had to head out.  It looked like a lot of fun.  She would have her work cut out for her if she was going to take Dirk along, though.  He had a strange aversion to natural bodies of open water; not that he couldn't swim - he swam like a fish, but just an odd paranoia she couldn't figure out.  She snaked her arm through his, and rested her head on his shoulder, the smell of his peculiar spice-scented soap filling her nostrils.  She felt a deep contentment, and looked forward to the next three days, because the workload going forward was looking to be anything but restful or relaxing.
     "You two make a cute couple, you know."  Said Jinx from where she sat directly across from them, next to Bao-Jian.
     "I like to think I did OK, pairing up with this fine specimen of manhood, here."  Alex replied, grinning, and squeezed Dirk's arm with proprietary affection.
     Dirk said nothing, but kissed the top of her head in an incredibly rare public display.
     "What about you, Jinx, any prospective partner on the horizon that you'd like to share, hmm?"  Alex teased, knowing that she lived a nearly monastic life while on the ship.
     "My family has some very old-fashioned ideas about ethnic purity, not ones I agree with, but we are also practitioners of Falun Gong, which places a great degree of importance on personal moral responsibility.  So, no, not really.  There's always hope."  Jinx answered, without really answering at all.
     "How about you, Bao?  Anyone interesting in your life lately?"  Alex asked the Jester's pilot, and Jinx turned in her seat to look at him as well.
     "I had a brief, but fulfilling, affair with a well-hung Greek gentleman while we were at New Detroit.  Other than that, nothing serious."  He told them, and continued; "Naturally, my folks would like me to settle down, and start a family of my own, and I will no doubt have to endure their gentle reminders that I'm not getting younger.  But they'll do it while setting homemade noodles and dim sum in front of me, so it's not all bad."  He concluded with a smile.
     "I have been craving Níngjìng Bay clawfish dumplings since the last time we were here, with fried noodles, and crisp vegetables."  She said, excitedly, and the conversation turned to favorite places to eat in the capital, until the train began to decelerate.
     When the train stopped, Alex watched as Dirk patted himself down, in a habit she was willing to bet he didn't know he had.  He did it before he left a vehicle, a building, or even a room.  There was a time when it had driven her crazy, but she reined in her frustration when it dawned on her that it was a habit he'd probably picked up in the Marines; to check his gear and placement of equipment, making certain he had everything he needed where it was supposed to be.
     She waited for him to finish, then got her handbag from under her seat and pulled out her personal data tablet.  She had spent some serious money for the gold-edged, gunmetal gray Saad-Nanotek unit she held in her hands.  She ran her finger over the logo engraved into the body, which caused the 10 by 15 centimeter slab to open up, into a tablet a mere four millimeters thick.  The screen was a nanofilm almost as strong as the metaplast casing that held it.  She was already hooked into the local network, and proceeded to look up restaurants specializing in clawfish dumplings close to their hotel.  She had one picked out, and reservations made, by the time he had their bags out of the overhead storage compartment.
     "You'll be pleased to know, I've managed an early evening supper for the two of us.  It's a bit pricey, but they use indigenous marine life exclusively, and they're highly recommended."  Alex said, as Dirk handed over her duffel.
     "That takes care of tonight, but what about this morning?  And lunch?  And tea?  We landed just after local sunrise, y'know."  He asked, more in jest than anything else.
     She stepped in close, hooked a single finger into the collar of his shirt, reached around with her other hand to grab his backside, and pulled him close.
     "Last time I checked, our hotel had room service."  She whispered suggestively into his ear, and nipped his earlobe gently with her teeth, before grabbing her bags and turning to exit the train.
     Jinx and Bao-Jian were looking at Dirk with barely concealed amusement; his aversion to public displays of affection being well known to both of them, and he was unconsciously looking around to see if anyone else had noticed.  Jinx decided to make him even more uncomfortable.
     "Do you think you will be able to debark with your manhood in that state," she nodded her head while staring at the front of his pants, "or will you want to wait for the swelling to go down?"  She asked, in a voice that, without shouting, still managed to carry to every corner of the compartment.
     Ignoring the friendly jeers and laughter of his crewmates, he shouldered his own duffel bag, and walked out onto the platform with his head up, his face set in a neutral expression that displayed a solemn dignity.
     The effect was ruined by the bright crimson flush of embarrassment on his face.

Here Be Monsters - Chapter 19

     Minotaur hung in space, a large blue and green marble with white caps on opposite sides, half occluded by a dark shadow, as the ship's geostationary orbit pulled it around to the night side.  The coloration always seemed off to Rollie, even though he'd never set foot on another planet, it just seemed as if the colors were too dark.  Which made no sense, because the light from the local sun actually shone more brightly on Minotaur's surface than Sol did on Earth.  The local plant life was also far more energetic than Earth's, and tended to grow quickly, filling any available space it could find until it could grow no further.
     This was a good thing for the Banghi hunters, who went out into the jungles to find the long, thin shoots, topped with small vermilion colored flowers, that grew out of the incredibly valuable root of the Banghi plant.  Its value derived from its use as a precursor in the production of nearly perfect cancer treatment drugs.  The rate of growth was offset by the plant's scarcity, however, and the local wildlife made searching for it problematic as well.
     There were things in the jungles where Banghi grew that were almost as deadly as they were valuable.  As a result, Banghi hunters also tended to do double duty trapping Minotauran scorpionflies.  Scorpionflies hardly resembled either scorpions or flies, but they had wings and a long tail with a stinger at the end, so the name stuck.  They were fast, and poisonous beyond belief, but with careful handling, their poison sacks could be harvested, and then used to produce extremely potent painkillers.  There was a secondary market for the flesh of the scorpionfly, but it was rare and expensive.
     Rollie couldn't justify eating bugs, no matter how expensive, and he'd heard that the flavor left a lot to be desired.  He was after something else entirely, and he knew exactly where to go in order to find it.  The Jester was oriented port side facing the planet, and his view from the ship's portside observation blister was nearly unobstructed.  Níngjìng Bay was a bright crescent of light on the dark side of Minotaur, looking very much alone amidst the sea of shadow surrounding the capital.  He reminded himself that they were still a good 200 kilometers above the surface, and even a metropolis would look small at such a distance.  At ground level, however, that same city was as densely populated as any space station, and it was the only place on any planet's surface in which he felt comfortable.
     The older quarter of the Bay area, which had originally been settled by second and third wave colonists, was a veritable warren of random streets and alleys, now populated by the newly arrived migrants deposited by the shuttles that landed hourly.  The more common, older, and most massive cargo shuttles used the bay itself as a landing field, since water could be converted into hydrogen for fuel easily enough, and it obviated the need for a runway.  Shuttles built after the development of gravity polarization technology could land virtually anywhere, and most of the multisolar corporations with large properties in the Bay area had privately owned landing fields.  Other organizations, and a few embassies, maintained their own landing pads as well.  The largest landing field for GP equipped shuttlecraft was the New Shanghai Spaceport, 75 kilometers north, and the traffic in and out of there was staggering.  Heavy cargo shuttles landed and took off every few minutes, and lighter orbital commuter flights left at nearly the same rate.  The only other organizations with their own landing fields were the Níngjìng Bay Police Department and the Ministry of Defense.  There were other areas where shuttles could land, discretely, without attracting any official attention from either the Police or the Navy, but they were usually far inland and located in rough terrain.
     Rollie was waiting for the Jester to meet up with a heavy cargo shuttle, onto which he would happily move several dozen tons of cargo consigned to be picked up on planet, as well as their two passengers, Rip and Cody.  He'd ignored the warning from the USPF office on New Detroit about gambling with Rip, and he had managed to lose enough money to make him wary of doing so again in the near future.  He was still fuming about it when he ran into Alex coming off shift.
     "Hey, 'Lex, got anything big planned while the USPF is wringing out DJ?  Rumor has it that they wanted to put him in protected custody until we pull out of the system."  He asked, in a transparent effort to rile her up.  She looked so miserable when she looked at him, that he immediately regretted it, and felt a pang of guilt.
     "Aww, I'm sorry kid; look, they're just being thorough, they've had all of the depositions for something like three days, and it's standard procedure for them to conduct a personal interview when someone - or several- gets killed.  No matter how justified."  He added quickly, in an attempt to forestall any emotional waterworks.
     "Maybe, but they didn't seem to be too thrilled to have to be here, and they didn't seem to give the Navy's report much attention either."  She told him, sounding worried.  "Do you think that they'd really put him in protected custody?"
     ”Nah.  He'll probably be let loose sometime today.  You guys won't lose your hotel reservations, but you may be checking in late.  The Captain gave you guys 72 hours of liberty, and I can pretty much guarantee that your boy will do whatever he has to to make the shuttle on time."  He said, turning back to watch as the terminator swept across south continent, enveloping the largest single landmass on the planet in darkness, while hoping Dirk didn't strangle the USPF officer doing the crew interviews.
     "Thanks, jerk."  She said, in a sisterly sort of way, and punched him lightly in the arm.  ”I guess I'd better pack a bag if I'm going to be on that flight, huh?"
     Rollie let her go without further comment, since the question was rhetorical, and she was out of the earshot before he could have answered anyway.  He turned his thoughts to the various people on Minotaur from whom he had bought his tobacco over the years, and he still had no idea how to get as large a supply as he figured he'd need for the mission past Vulcanfall.  He decided that the thing to do was to go down, and find his usual dealer, then get him to make the connection.  There was, of course, the small matter of how he was going to get it back on board, but he had methods for getting his private stash off planet.
     He stood looking out at the planet from the confines of the observation bubble for a while longer, without really thinking about anything in particular, when his com badge chirped for his attention.  It was the Captain.
     "Rollie, the transport shuttle I contracted is on final approach.  Are we good to go?"  Asked the Captain, a slight edge of anxiety in his voice.
     "Loads all prepped and ready to go, but I get the feeling that DJ isn't gonna make the flight, unless those UniSys folks let him go soon."  He replied.
     He very much doubted that those unrepentant assholes from the USPF would offer Dirk a lift to the planet in their shuttle, except maybe in handcuffs.  Their attitude had been confrontational from the time they'd come through the airlock.  They had thrown their weight around, just because they could, but Dirk had been the personification of zen-like calm.  He adopted the usual passive-aggressive behavior with them that he reserved for people who tried to interrogate him about his personal life.  It was a tried and tested method, it involved answering questions within the boundaries of the information requested, ignoring leading statements meant to elicit information, and generally pretending not to understand why the interrogator was asking questions in the first place.  Rollie's firsthand experience with the technique had turned his brain to mush in half an hour, and he still regretted prying into Dirk's life history, going on two years later.
     He truly hoped that Dirk would make the shuttle down to Minotaur, otherwise he was likely to take his frustrations out on the officers interviewing him, and that could get rough.  He decided that preemptive action was needed, and headed down to the crew lounge where the USPF officers had set up shop.  His arrival coincided with him overhearing Dirk say, "...can go fuck the horse you rode in on, you miserable, feckless twat.  The idea of you telling me how to deal -" before a foolishly belligerent voice cut him off.
     "You shut your fucking mouth and sit down you little prick, or by God I'll put you on your ass, and shut it for you!"  Rollie heard from just down the hall, where Jinx, Bao-Jian, and Hicks were eavesdropping.
     Rollie started running when he heard Dirk say:  "You fucking try it, if you think you're hard enough, cunt."
     The challenge was delivered in a lethally flat voice, and he came through the open doorway of the lounge, the rest of the listeners in tow, just in time to distract attention away from Dirk.
     "Who the hell are you?  This area is off limits until we're done here, now get lost."  Said a large, thick necked man with a dark complexion.
     The distraction worked, and he grinned at Thick Neck, like he was the punchline of a mildly entertaining joke.
     "The name's Rolland Overton Langston, dirtsider.  Ship's Bosun and master cargo handler, and I'm going to have to borrow Mr Sinclair for a couple of hours."  He said, with an arrogance he hoped would fool them into believing that he had the authority to do what he was doing.
     The smaller, pasty faced man sitting in front of Dirk, who looked like a grown up version of the kid who took down names when the teacher was out of the classroom, spoke up in high, quavering voice.
     "That's unacceptable, we were told that we would have full cooperation.  We still have a number of questions about the incident on the well deck."  Said Pasty Face, in a nasal accent Rollie couldn't place.
     "Well, dirtsider, if you don't like it, tough.  You've had Mr Sinclair here for the better part of five hours, and I can guarantee that his life ain't that interesting.  I got work needs doing, and DJ here to do it, so now he's mine.  You can take it up with the Captain, you want it different, but remember:  You're guests on board this ship, you piss the Old Man off, he'll kick you off this crate himself."  He concluded his lecture by gesturing toward the doorway with his thumb, looked at Dirk, and said, "Loading bay, now.  Captain just called, transport's on final."
     To his credit he caught on fast, and didn't wait for approval, instead, he jumped up and quick marched out, with a snappy "Yes, sir."
     Rollie turned about just as quickly, and seeing the three crew staring at him all but goggle-eyed, said:  "What're you lookin' at?  We got work to do!", and headed straight out to the corridor, and then ran after Dirk, dragging them out in his wake.  He caught up to Dirk in less than a minute.
     "How's that for a rescue?  D'you think that Thick Neck back there realizes how much he owes me for saving his life?  'Cause it sounded like you were about to retune his FTL drive."  Rollie asked, as he tried to bring his racing heart beat under control.
     "That was quite a performance, Rollie, I never thought you had it in you.  I owe you one; I was just about to see if I could make that thick bastard's nose bleed if I kicked his ass hard enough.  Tell you what; we'll take you out to the Hyperwave Club while we're on planet.  It's supposed to be the best in the city."  Dirk said, his voice heavy with gratitude.
     Rollie knew that Dirk was trying to express his gratitude at being pulled out of the USPF interview, but he really wished Dirk could remember that he wasn't a large crowd type of person.  He was forced to admit that he was right about the club's standing, given that the length of the lineups were legendary.  Rumor had it that the Hyperwave had set a record for the longest line to get into a nightclub in history; no one really knew if it was true, but it sounded good. 
     Which made the offer a bit strange.
     "Just how do you plan on getting us in?  Waiting for hours until a spot opens up is kind of dull, and if we have to wait outside, we'll probably get rained on."  He said, skeptically.
     "Oh ye of little faith.  I shall work miracles, you'll see."  Dirk replied, smiling like a newly beatified saint.
     Rollie rolled his eyes, and wondered how much trouble they were going to get into for ditching the USPF jerks, but he had a cargo transport to load, and now he had Dirk and the others to help.
     "Great, now let's see you miraculously working to get that cargo off onto the transport arriving in a few minutes."  Rollie said, caustically, and gently pushed him in the direction of the lift for the forward loading bay.
     He figured that the Saints-damned USPF would probably complain about being interrupted, but didn't think that they'd get anywhere with the Captain by doing so.  Even if they decided to make an issue of it, there were limits on their authority, and the Alliance locals wouldn't like having their toes stepped on in their own jurisdiction by UniSys police officers.
     All in all, he doubted that they had much to worry about.