“Yeah, how much did you have in mind?”
“A lot, come on, with me.”
Glaucon rushed off to the long haul shipping part of the terminal. It was a quieter area that was filled with a small group of men in suits, as well as workers for the mining stations and long distance freighters that travelled on yearlong expeditions. Glaucon moved past them all and towards the darkest part of the terminal. As they reached it, a guard stepped out and blocked their path.
“Sorry, this is for cryogenic long distance traffic only.”
“Yeah, that’s us.”
“Where are your papers?” he asked with suspicion.
Glaucon ran his eyes along the destination board along the rear of the desk. It showed a list of dozens of places. Only one was easy enough to read at a distance.
“We have urgent Alliance business on Tartarus,” explained Glaucon.
“Tartarus? We’ve only got one transport going there, and it leaves within the hour. I’m not showing any missing passengers.”
“You don’t understand. We’re survivors of the Attican government, and you must have seen the news. The city was hit by suicide bombers, and we have to reach the Alliance leadership that is in hiding before it is too late!”
The guard looked at them both. It was clear he didn’t buy their story at all, but he was also not sending them away. Xenophon pulled out his identity card and held it out.
“Look, you can see how many credits I have available. These funds are for our safe travel to Tartarus. Will you help us?”
The card and the projected credits now enthralled the guard. Xenophon watched with contempt as the man’s scruples faded before their eyes. He took the card from Xenophon, saying nothing, simply nodding to the desk behind him. They moved past him and to the desk where an automated booking system proceeded to arrange their trip.
“Tartarus, why?” asked Xenophon.
“It’s the only place I could read from there. Look, it’s either Tartarus, or you stay and take your chances here.”
Xenophon looked past the guard and to the crowds of people swarming about in the public departure area. He looked back to Glaucon.
“You do realise there is a reason they are all avoiding the long distance trip to Tartarus, don’t you?”
Glaucon laughed nervously.
“What, apart from the long journey, the price and the chance of being killed when you get there?”
CHAPTER SIX
Tartarus Trading Post, Neutral Space
Xenophon’s first impression of Tartarus was not favourable. In his mind, it would have been a cosmopolitan hive of traders and travellers from across the galaxy. The stories he had heard right from being a child was that it was filled with every possible colourful combination of strange and unusual. Tales of odd creatures, epic adventures and mysterious journeys often began at Tartarus. In reality, it was nothing of the sort, and Xenophon felt more than a little disappointed at what he found. The massive space station was little more than a hive of crime, drugs and as best as he could tell, prostitution. Bars and casinos filled the structure on every floor, and groups of armed men prowled the wide-open corridors. Tartarus was big, much bigger than anything he had been on before. Even the Plymouth Station was dwarfed by this metal behemoth.
What am I doing here? He now felt completely out of his depth. Back on Attica he had been a reasonably wealthy young man with status, family connections and an official position. The more recent post of Prefect may have caused more problems than anything else, but it was nothing compared to his self-imposed exile on this artificial world.
This was a big mistake.
He stood in an open plaza that must have been large enough to land a star freighter inside. Trading stalls and dealers filled the area, and thick smoke ran from their stoves and pipes, making vision difficult. The busiest part by far was at the far end and the glowing red lights of the seedier part of the place. It was from that end that a dull throbbing thump of bass came from. Glaucon walked at his side. Any sign of the bruising and trauma he had sustained had now worn off from a mixture of rest and very high strength restorative drugs. He reached out and stopped Xenophon.
“What?”
Glaucon looked towards the less salubrious part of the plaza and leaned in closer to Xenophon.
“I’ve heard some pretty weird stuff about this place. Just remember, it’s independent. Alliance and League laws mean nothing out here.”
“I know, it’s not like we had much of a choice though, is it?
He was about to continue, but the slender forms of two automatons walked past them. These completely artificial beings were the pinnacle of engineering. Created to emulate human life, they were expensive, relatively unintelligent but completely loyal machines. On the outside, they looked like pale humans but slightly shorter and of a much thinner build. Their somewhat ambiguous shape gave them a look that was neither male nor female. Xenophon gazed at the nearest one’s face as it moved away. The skin on the face was almost translucent with a pearl-like quality. He turned backed to Glaucon.
“Automatons. Have you ever seen one before?” he asked.
“There were quite a few on the Sarmatia pleasure ships, remember?”
Xenophon smiled, for a moment forgetting the perilous situation they now found themselves in. Pleasure ships, was something of an understatement. It was more a convoy of black-market merchants that trawled the shipping lanes between colonies. Unlike Glaucon, however, he had not opted to partake in the many opportunities the ships offered on their journey. He did recall the automaton dancers, possibly the most exotic and elegant dancers in the known galaxy. Xenophon shook his head, partially to try and remove the image of the dancers and also to convey that Glaucon has misunderstood him.
“Come on, you know what I mean. The workers, the slaves, like the ones the Laconians use. Like the ones that just walked past?”
“What’s the difference?”
“Well, these are the androgynous ones. Look, they are slightly heavier built for manual work, farming, factories and the like. We’ve been trying to get permission to use them in the Alliance for years.”
Glaucon looked disinterested, even a little irritated.
“What?” asked Xenophon.
Glaucon waved his hand out to point to the large numbers of people moving about.
“We’re homeless, have limited money and are in one of the most dangerous parts of Terran space. Maybe now isn’t the time to gawp at automatons?”
Xenophon nodded slowly at him, and he couldn’t really argue with his statement.
“Fair enough. My suggestion is we find somewhere to hold up for a few days and get our bearings. We need to work out what we are going to do. With all the retribution and anarchy back home, I think we might be away for some time. There are bound to be jobs we can do here.”
“Jobs? What, like cleaning windows?” asked a bitter Glaucon.
Xenophon smiled at him.
“No, I’m thinking of something that might be better suited to our talents.”
He looked about the open space and watched more people walking past them. Each one seemed to have a purpose, and all were in a hurry. It was clear that a good part of the traffic, especially for those that looked as if passing through, were heading to the glowing red lights.
“I don’t know about you, but right now, I could do with a drink. A big drink, and more than one!”
Glaucon nodded in agreement and placed his hand on Xenophon’s shoulder.
“For once, we are in complete agreement. Where did you have in mind?”
Xenophon pointed to the red glow further inside the station.
“Really, isn’t that a little seedy for you?”
Xenophon grinned back.