Davis takes the Kansat vox-cord and slips it into a passing merchant's belt. The man doesn't appear to notice.
Semo follows Bullethead into the lavatories. The bathrooms are pristine, auto-cleaned by monotask drones. In fact, the toilets are a type of drone, removing waste, puffing recycled scented air, and cleaning themselves after every few visits. Semo counts three men currently using the facilities, but a potential monkey in his wrench comes in the form of a small spherical surveillance drone set into a ceiling sconce. Its cyclops-eye swivels, regarding Semo for a moment before turning its attention to the others.
Semo wonders if he only noticed the drone because of the relatively featureless lavatory, and if so, how many more of these tiny spies lurk in the walls and ceilings of the Gateport?
Bullethead, still oblivious to Semo, enters one of the solid waste reclamation chambers (a bathroom stall).
Semo notes the surveillance drone as he moves toward the stalls. He pauses as though waiting his turn until it looks away, then enters - forcibly if necessary - the same stall Bullethead went into.
His plan is to close the door behind him and thrash the stalker. Once the guy is sufficiently warmed up, then ask a few pointed questions. They really need to know who he's working for.
When the camera spins to track one of the visitors' departure, Semo kicks in Bullethead's stall door with a deafening slam! Most people's reactions when confronted in such an awkward position is to cover themselves and cringe. Semo notes Bullethead does neither - the goon reaches for his jumpsuit pocket but Semo's quicker. He bullrushes Bullethead back into the stall, bouncing the man's bald head off the wall with a painful crack. Almost as an afterthought, Semo slams the stall door shut with his foot, then Bullethead pushes him into the side of the stall. Had he had leverage, that might've hurt, but Bullethead's jumpsuit is unfastened and hampering his movement.
Receding footsteps echo in the lavatory as anyone else with a shred of self-preservation clears out.
Semo breaks Bullethead's grip and throws a knee into his junk, followed by a meaty elbow across the man's face. Bullethead slams into the wall, and this time there's a metallic spang as the bolts pop and the entire stall creaks. Blood runs from Bullethead's nose and mouth and his face is a twisted grimace of pain. He's not ready to talk yet, however, and punctuates this attitude by headbutting Semo. Semo's vision flashes white as he staggers back into the door. The door holds, but the stall doesn't. The right wall comes loose and falls into the next stall.
Both combatants stagger apart, and Bullethead trips and lands hard in the newly-opened stall. Semo's on top of him in a second, landing two hard blows across the man's massive jaw. Blood spatters across the white floor and Bullethead finally adopts Fetal Position Defense, the universal sign of submission across all known solar systems.
Semo drops his weight onto the fetal man. Grabbing the nearest wrist, he pulls it up and pries one of the fingers loose. It takes but an instand to wrap a meaty fist around the finger.
"Who are you working for?" Semo growls into the man's face. Lack of an answer will result in the finger being broken.
Davis notices a handful of men fast-walking out of the lavatories, then hears a muffled crash from inside. He sidesteps closer, entering the area in time to hear Semo's query answered by a mangled "P-Panipon..."
---
Bullethead spits the name of the team's business associate down his shirt, and follows it up with "Bhaddya bant bid be!?" Blood's running freely from his nose, mouth, and one eye looks like it's going to close up any second now. Semo notices his own lip and nose are dripping crimson as well.
"Da make sure da deal IS done," Bullethead spits. "I dail you undil Banibon gedds back do his shib wid da goods, dey box me and I break off before you spod me! Excepb you spodded me, and now be're both gonna get it from da Kansadai!"
"Maybe," is all Semo says as he palm-strike's Bullethead's head into the floor. Rising, he exits via the door to the stall next to the one Bullethead entered, fiddling with his belt as he does so. A quick stop to wash/clean up his hands, then Semo is out and off down the hall. He makes no sign of recognising Davis if the spook is still lingering around.
Davis waits for Broken-Face nee Bullethead to walk out of the bathroom, and then grabs him. "Walk with me, won't you?"
He takes the beaten man by the shoulder and helps him limp down the alley. "Trust is everything in a relationship, don't you think? We were willing to trust Panipon and his associates. We took a big risk bringing you our wares, and this is how we are repaid? By a secret tail, so we can be double-crossed later on? That shows a certain lack of trust on your part and your boss' part. Without trust, life can get very hard for people like us. What happened to you just now? It is regrettable. Unfortunately, since your boss did not see fit to inform us that we would be watched as a guarantee for the deal, we were forced to assume the worst. Surely, you can respect this kind of thinking, as one does not go far in our line of work without a healthy dose of paranoia. You just happened to be the unfortunate soul who got the short end of this little disagreement."
Davis pauses to look around, and then turns back to the injured man. "So, you see what happens without trust? People can get hurt. Panipon can trust us. We are honest people who would never screw over a business partner. All that we ask in return for our honesty is a little reciprocation from the other side. I think this is fair, do you?"
Bullethead quickly exits the lavatory cleaned up the best he could. His jumpsuit is fastened tight around his collar where he bled onto his undergarments, and there's no disguising his swollen-closed right eye. Davis catches up easily and gives his spiel. Behind them, Kansatai move in on the bathrooms, clearly arriving just a little too late.
"Risk goes both ways," Brokeface says in response, his voice no longer quite as mangled as when he was choking on his own blood. "Panipon don't know you, you practically scream trouble, but wid what you offering he don't pass it up. Sends be to bake sure you don't call Kansatai and run wid his money. Bake sure you don't rig crate wid bomb or tracker. Find out where you come from."
"Now if dat's all, I still godda shit brewin' that could choke a terantek."
Brokeface stumbles off to the lifts to the docking levels, trying to put as much distance between him, the Kansatai, and the team as possible. Davis and Semo rejoin the group within a few minutes of each other. Now they're stranded on an alien world and wanted for murder, but now they have money.
---
Elsewhere
"Your predecessor, Hethna Varos, has been marked, Keeper. He knowingly aids those who would keep us from our birthright. His codes have been burnt and his access has been purified."
"Yes. Did the Whetu identify those who traveled through the Gate?"
"Yes. They are of Narsai."
A small robed man enters the chamber.
"Something else to report, Scholar?" the robed Keeper asks the newcomer. Lokinainen Gahit swallows nervously and produces a small holoprojector.
"The cogitators found another match for the Narsai'i. The latest Botane squirt contained footage from the Gateport lavatory." The projector flickers into life, projecting the surveillance drone's view of Semo. The footage jumps, then shows stalls rattling, then Semo leaving.
"The surveillance lost him in the crowd, but this was mere minutes ago. On a more troubling note, the Narsai'i appear to have defeated our weapons sensors. This is from earlier today, received with the same squirt:"
This time Kansat skimmer footage intermixed with the pursuit drones comes to life. The assembly jumps at the gunshots from Max and Angel.
"The cogitators match those offenders to the other data with point five accuracy."
"Thank you, Scholar." With that, Gahit turns and glides back to his cogitator banks.
"Initiate a lockdown of Botane's port once the Turai are through. Retask a needleship to Botane system. We require two prisoners. Make sure the Samal understands."
"Any captain will know we are in trouble if we are paying for passage without any cargo," Arketta explains. "We'd be taking the Gateway otherwise. Botane has a few outsystem stations, but nothing that would make sense as our destination. Offer the captain enough of Panipon's money that he won't even care if you hijack him."
"Then why don't we skip the lounge chair negotiations and march right up to the docks?" asks Mellish.
Arketta shrugs.
---
The Gateport docks are a crosscrossing web of lifts, walkways, and covered bridges open to the stinking Botane air. Giant docking arms curve up around the top of the Gateport, like an upturned spider. You can see bulbous ships tethered to the arm-tips, with smaller vehicles posted off landing platforms.
A quick scan of the schedules shows three ships that look promising. All are slated to leave in mere minutes, so they'll be fueled and ready to go. One's a massive rhinoceros of a ship, designated with NVR-IXI. The Scarlet Banner is earmarked as a courier, all stabilizers and engines. Finally, Akamu's listing marks it as a light hauler but its shark-like fuselage suggests another purpose.
"Yes, because that's why he owns a massive ship. I'm going to check out each captain, ask them a few questions. See who's receptive to what." Davis walks off towards the Akamu first. Typically, the owner of the ship that's more than it appears usually is as well.
"Yes, because that's why he owns a massive ship. I'm going to check out each captain, ask them a few questions. See who's receptive to what." Davis walks off towards the Akamu first. Typically, the owner of the ship that's more than it appears usually is as well.
Max shakes his head, walking over to a less public area and opens up his laptop.
"That's right, talk to each ship's captain about nefarious acts of smuggling..." says Max to no one in particular, tapping into the local interwebs for the ships' registries and such.
Semo does his best to avoid gagging on what passes for air out here at the spacedocks. It's hard to look intimidating when you're bent over and wheezing.
They seem to have three ships to choose from. Semo's inclination is to whatever is fast, but he'll leave the deciding to those whose job it is. Meanwhile, he relaxes a bit, while keeping a weather eye on their surroundings and its inhabitants.
Max jacks his laptop into the cortex while Davis heads towards the Akamu's berth. The NVR-IXI is licensed to a Pi Neho Toi and is heading for Sambasan. The Scarlet Banner's captain is Rikali Burarra and is destined for Aikoro. Akamu's captain is Helo Farsad, and it's slated for Hedion. Max's interest is piqued by Akamu's listing. There's something about the format that seems off somehow. To pry deeper into the system, either to decipher the suspicious listing or to decrypt the cargo manifests, risks notice by Gateport authorities, however.
Davis sees orange monotask drones loading blue striped pods into the khaki underbelly of Akamu. Three gray-suited spacers oversee the machinery, their jumpsuits bolstered by socket-seals at wrists and neck. All look hungover, but one, an unkempt man with close-cropped lime-green hair and coruscating tattoos on his left cheek, approaches Davis.
"Nothing clean, right?" he calls, noticing Davis' rather ramshackle appearance. The other two let out a few malicious chuckles. "Who are you, what do you want? We're boosting in five."
Davis extends his hand in friendship and smiles. "Name's Davis. My compatriots and I are looking for some...discreet transport off-world. We're willing to pay for our passage, or if you need some more strong backs, we're more than willing to work."
Admiral Duck Sauce
