Starfall (Starflight #2)(31)
“Or kill you,” Kane added with a grin and a hearty slap on his friend’s back. “I heard the pirate lord in sector three was garroted last week.”
“Thanks for the reminder.”
“Anytime, buddy.”
“Let’s keep it simple—in and out,” Renny said. “We’ll only use Doran’s alter ego as a last resort. Got it?”
Everyone nodded.
“Good. You have one hour until we dock. Crew dismissed.”
Kane had never visited a black market satellite until now. The satellites tended to move to locations that were kept secret—one day here, another day there—and they drew the kind of people a guy tried to avoid if he had a bounty on his head. Still, the hub looked similar to how he’d always imagined it: like a common trading post, only sketchier.
Artificial light flickered overhead, casting a jaundiced glow over the faces of shoppers as they browsed the long rows of booths erected near the pub. A variety of items were on display, everything from weapons that were probably stolen to prescription drugs that had likely expired. Other goods were advertised on signs, services rendered by escorts and hit men. Half the booths stood empty, and the other half were manned by vendors with their feet kicked up and their hats pulled down. Once every few minutes, a peddler would spot an easy target and try to wave him over, but otherwise most folks avoided eye contact and kept to themselves. None of that surprised Kane.
What he hadn’t predicted was the smell.
“Hot damn,” he said, pulling his shirt collar over his nose and mouth. “It smells like a skunk threw up on a dead body in here.”
“Add a hundred sweaty jockstraps, and you nailed it.” Doran waved a hand to dispel the stench. “It’s making my eyes water.”
“What is that?” Cassia asked.
Renny pointed ahead toward the mouth of an open doorway. The entrance was too dark to reveal anything inside, but a sign affixed to the wall promised CHEAP LABOR!
“Low-end slave traders,” Renny said. “Their product doesn’t have a long shelf life, so they don’t bother with basic hygiene.”
Everyone quit complaining after that.
Kane lowered his shirt collar out of respect as he passed. There was nothing like slavery to put his problems into perspective.
The crew continued in silence for a while, following Renny as he led them out of the marketplace, past a stretch of storage units, and toward what looked like an office door with a single word stenciled above it: INQUIRIES.
“What are we doing?” Cassia whispered.
“We can’t go around asking questions,” Renny told her, “or it’ll draw too much attention.” He nodded toward the door. “We’ll hire someone to do our digging for us.”
“A ferret,” Kane said. He’d heard of that service. For a fee, a local with the right connections would find the information they wanted while protecting their identity.
“Exactly. Now, let’s see what we can afford to bid.”
Renny dug in his pocket and pulled out a handful of fuel chips. Cupping his palm, he used a finger to push aside the random junk he’d stolen—a pillbox, two disk batteries, the tip of a broken grease pencil, and Cassia’s pink laser blade. Kane had borrowed it enough times to know.
“Hey!” Cassia objected.
Renny ducked his head. “Sorry. I can’t—”
“Help it,” she finished, snatching the object from him. “Yeah, I know.”
“Thirty chips,” Renny said. “It’ll have to do. Wait here while I put in our bid.”
He returned five minutes later, followed by a young bearded guy whose bouncing steps reminded Kane of a grasshopper. The ferret couldn’t stand still, even when he reached them. He shifted his weight back and forth, compulsively scratching his beard while peering around the group for instructions. Whatever money they paid him was going up his nose tonight.
“Whatcha want me to find?” he asked Renny.
Cassia spoke first, lifting her chin in that haughty way of hers. “I’m here representing my husband, Marius Durango.”
Kane felt a pinch in his gut. He kept forgetting that Cassia was married. The union was in name only, but that didn’t mean he liked it.
“He gave me this transmission code.” She handed the ferret a slip of paper. “He’s been using it to talk to someone on this hub. I’d like to set up a meeting with that person. Whoever it is, tell them it’s regarding our partnership on Eturia. They’ll know what that means.”
The ferret glanced at the paper while bouncing one heel on the floor. He’d fidgeted so much his forehead was glistening. “Okay. Gimme a day or two. I’ll get it done.”
Cassia wrote down the Banshee’s radio frequency so he could contact her when he’d finished the job. The ferret bounded away, and the rest of them agreed there was nothing they wanted from the marketplace except to put it behind them. So they returned to the ship, where they took extra precautions to lock themselves securely inside.
When three days passed without word, they were forced to revisit the hub.
Again, Renny led the way through the fetid marketplace, past the storage units, and to the inquiries station, but this time with the rapid stride of a man who’d been cheated out of his last thirty fuel chips. Kane almost felt sorry for the ferret. Renny was a gentle captain, but he knew how to bring the pain when a situation called for it.