Now that the massacre was common knowledge, nobody tried anything, dirt side or on the station, and though she knew it was insane to wish for conflict, Sura was getting restless.
The woman let herself feel the reassuring presence of the slim pistol resting in a pocket sewn into the lining of her duster. The bullets were tiny and incapable of penetrating armor or, more importantly, the station’s hull, though they packed enough of a punch to tear up flesh. Security staffers, especially those who enjoyed the occasional free drink or cash tip from the captain, tended to care little about such low-grade weapons. So long as the spacefarers and station thugs kept the violence to a minimum, off the beaten path, and caused no structural damage, the security staffers rarely risked their own lives to do much policing. They stuck to the central deck, the prime market at the core of the station where corporate business was done, and much of the rest of the deep space community was a frontier of corridors and chambers intentionally left to the flourishing black market.
“You’re looking rather predatory this evening, Mrs. Hyst,” smirked Captain Dar as he walked beside Sura, his sword hanging from his belt and a data tablet containing the full account of their UEP26 haul. “Maybe tone it down a bit until we’ve collected and have money to lose. The clerks are nervous enough as it is around us these days.”
“I am just on edge is all,” said Sura as she gently took a deep breath and exhaled, visibly relaxing, though still feeling somewhat coiled. “Pent-up energy. I’m just glad to be off the boat for a bit.”
“I know we agreed not to talk about it, but are you and Samuel okay?” began Dar, his usual bravado suddenly evaporating, leaving behind a softening of his features and a nervousness in his voice, something Sura had learned was a reaction unique to her, and thus frustratingly endearing. “There’s been talk. Thin walls on board ship, as they say.”
Sura turned to look at Dar and quickly looked away again. The expression on his face was of genuine concern and considering the years of silent angst and competition between this man and her husband, she knew it cost him some of his pride to ask.
The relationship between her, Dar, and Samuel had been a strained one, though of late, Sura had found herself withdrawing from both men, despite living with one and growing closer to the other in a professional capacity. There had always been something between her and the captain, ever since that first chance meeting on Pier 13, and they both knew that had Samuel died in the trade war they’d have chosen to be a couple many years ago.
We would have been a good one too, thought Sura as her face flushed and she looked ahead at the sliding door leading to the central deck, but I made a promise.
“It’s been hard, Felix,” answered Sura, her use of his first name making the captain inhale sharply, as she had not used his first name in a long time, not since she told him years ago that whatever was between them could never be. “I lied to him about the plan on Osi, we’ve not been the same since. More like angry bunkmates going through the motions. When there’s action I can ignore what life has become.”
Captain Dar said nothing and looked away as he composed himself. The prospector opened the sliding door that led to the central deck, and the pair let the sights, sounds, and smells wash over them as they stepped out onto the platform. The two of them stood silently for a moment, taking it all in. After months on board the confines of the Rig Halo, docking at a station so vibrant and dangerous as Dagda was a balm for both of them.
“Mother, this is incredible!” breathed Orion as he, Braden, and Corbin marched up behind them.
Sura looked back and smiled, the sight of her son’s wonderment banishing the grim mood that had been consuming her.
While Samuel was too paranoid to leave the ship, a sentiment shared by the captain who thought it best for him to remain unknown and unseen, Sura had been boarding stations for years since their flight from Longstride without incident. As the unofficial first mate, she was present for the captain’s deals with the exchange desk, and though she’d not had to fight on a station thus far, part of her job was to be ready to do so. As for Orion, this was his first time to Dagda. While he’d been off the ship, much to his father’s chagrin, a few times on the smaller orbitals, never had he encountered the wilderness of a vast station such as this.
Orion’s eyes widened as a table girl, named Dagda, no doubt, slid her gaze up and down his body as she waltzed past the small group. The youth’s head turned to follow her, and his cheeks flushed. Sura realized, quite suddenly, that the only women he’d seen in his life were of the hardier frontier sort. While attractiveness was a relative term, she couldn’t blame Orion for gawking as the table girl was indeed beautiful, and the way she moved was professionally calculated to get a rise out of any onlookers who might be ready to spend the coin.
No sooner had she gone down the stairs to the next platform did a rough looking long hauler shout over to her and wave his credit pass. In an instant, the young woman had eyes only for her client, and moments later she allowed the long hauler to wrap his arm around her waist and escort her through one of the many hatches adorning the central platform.
“Stay close, Orion, this place has just as many predators as it does pretty things,” said the captain as he put a hand on the youth’s shoulder and pulled him along with the group while they began walking in the opposite direction. “Let us do the talking and don’t accept anything someone offers you without me or your mother giving you the nod. It’s an adventure sure as sure, just have to be careful.”
The group moved through the central deck, and Sura was forced to smile as Orion’s mind was opened to the vast sights and sounds of the station. The current exchange rates for a plethora of raw materials were displayed on a multitude of screens, some inlaid into the wall and others affixed to the railing, throughout the deck. Competition was just as fierce on the station as it was out in the black, and each of the corporate exchange desks was constantly changing their rates in an endless stream of shifting data.
Every few seconds the Helion rate for ink-rock would dip below that of Grotto, only to be beaten by Rubicon in a race to the bottom. Before the rates went in the negative and the market crashed, something that would take weeks or even months for everyone to recover from, the rates would skyrocket as the corporations backed off and allowed stability to return.
Sura recalled from her time in Grotto that the enigmatic and aloof order of corporate masters known as the Anointed Actuaries were behind Grotto’s market efforts. While she had never seen one in the flesh, like the vast majority of all other Grotto citizens current or former, her husband had. Samuel described the Actuary as only barely human, more machine than man, and she could imagine a cyborg on some distant planet playing with numbers, steering the course of billions of lives with contracts and decimal points.
Captain Dar was intentionally taking the long way through the central deck, Sura realized, giving Orion what amounted to the full tour. She caught Dar’s eye and silently mouthed a thank you, eliciting a wink from the man as he went back to explaining why bounty scrappers were called vultures and going on about the finer points of artificial gravity drives on the station. They were moving towards the Helion exchange desk, which Braden insisted had the most consistent rate.
As it turned out, Rubicon had the rate which yielded the most profit, and by a thin enough margin that a few minutes after the deal was made the rate shifted to a loss for the corporate desk. The clerk simply shrugged, as the rate would shift again soon enough, and by the time the ink-rock from UE26 was off-loaded from the Halo and stacked in Rubicon’s own hauler the margin could fall in the corporation’s favor once more. That was a constant risk that the corporate elements could afford to endure, and a loss today could be made up with a gain tomorrow, though for the prospectors a loss today meant that the chances for a tomorrow at all were slim.