Sounds of the Moons

Synchronized

Attinger Station was a dreadfully weary place. Unnotable for anything but it's terrifying sense of dread, it always seemed too big for its own shoes and not many people other than the dredges of society ever visited. More people left the station than moved in. The station itself has become a permanent icon of haunted stories, making appearances in obscure horror board games and really bad independent films that couldn't afford to film anywhere else. Including those reasons, a lot of people didn't like visiting the station for many other specific reasons, like how the station experienced a lot of blackouts and was eerily quiet most of the time.

It was during one of these blackouts and eerie quiet solaces that Bjorn found himself sitting in the Duck's Pub. It was in a relatively more populated area of the station, as it was the only place anyone could really hope to run a business. The streets here were only slightly less littered than other desolate streets in Attinger Station and the streets lay empty.

Bjorn sat in the musky bar, dimly lit by glow-in-the-dark orbs hanging from the ceiling, at a table filled with four of his other companions, more accurately acquaintances really, as he had only arrived at the station recently. Even the immigration office wasn't expecting his arrival; no one bothered to staff the desk even though it was required by interstellar law. When Bjorn went ahead and moved in anyway, the government caught back up with him months later. He was a rare immigrant. But it was six months now, and Bjorn had made some friends. Across from him sat this rather scrawny looking fellow, who strangely enough seemed scrawnier than Bjorn, something he would have originally thought would be impossible. It was this scrawny fellow who opened his mouth.

"You know, a long time ago they had these things called time zones."

Bjorn suddenly realized he didn't remember any of the names of his acquaintances except for the one next to him named Alexia, who also happened to be deep asleep.

"Time zones?" Asked a short woman, with a hint of dry interest, to the scrawny man's right. "What are those?"

"Well, they were these things-" The scrawny man started with some excitement, before being interrupted.

"Ah, who cares, you old prick." Said a boy to the scrawny man's left. He cast a careless gesture like he was throwing away this idea for conversation due to its utter worthlessness. "What's in the past is past. What good will it do for us to talk about it now?"

"Well," Said the man slowly, and carefully. "I think it's interesting!"

He held up a finger towards the sky in exclamation. The lights flickered for a moment, but then lost their light again.

"What-ever" The boy sighed, and leaned back in his chair. He looked around to the expressions of the others gathered around the table. "Ok, yeah, yeah, I've got nothing better to talk about. Get on with it, will you old man?"

The scrawny man looked at the boy sternly for a moment before resuming his speech.

"It used to be that time was linked to the movement of the sun relative to your position on the Earth."

"So?" The boy retorted.

"Shut up." Said the woman. "Haven't you ever grown up on a planet before?"

The boy only glared in response. Bjorn remembered that the kid mentioned once that he secretly wished to visit a planet one day.

"Well, so when the sun was high in the sky, directly above you, that was noon. Every period between the sun moving from that position to sunset, to the sunrise to the sun moving to that position again, that was called a day."

"Day." The boy mouthed the word, attempting to say it with the same accent that old people would use. "Was it the same amount of time back then?"

"No, a day was about 25 hours back then, I think."

"25 hours?" Said the woman, suddenly interested. "Are you sure?"

"The hell is an hour?" Asked the boy.

"Mind your manners." The cranky man snapped back. "I don't remember how long an hour is. We eventually got rid of the hour as a standard a long time ago. I'm sure the Vikey has the information somewhere. Anyway, a day used to be split into 25 parts called hours."

"So... an hour was just a twenty-fifth of that it took for the earth to make a full rotation?"

"Yes." Said the man.

"That's dumb." Said the boy, leaning back into a reclining position.

"I swear it was twenty six hours." Said the woman, consulting the Vikey on her datlink.

"Oh, twenty six, twenty five, doesn't matter." The man waved her worries aside. "The earth slowed down very slowly over time, so they changed the day to have more hours in it."

"That's super dumb."

"Shut up Canute." Said the old man, losing his patience. "If you don't want to listen, why don't you just go outside?"

Right. Bjorn thought. Canute.

Canute and the man stared at each other for a moment before Bjorn interrupted.

"Hey," He said very timidly, "Could we, um, not fight?"

He looked at the old man.

"It's not really safe for a kid, to, uh..." He stammered.

This time Canute glared at Bjorn with some sort of animalistic fury.

"Um..." Bjorn hesitated, then took a deep breath. "Alright."

Canute looked back at the man then finally said a single word, in a sense of annoyance.

"Fine."

Canute leaned back in his chair and plopped earbuds into his ears and started to listen to music, or whatever Canute usually listens to, and dropped out of the conversation completely.

"So time used to be linked to these suns, right?" The scrawny man asked, slowly nodding his head until Bjorn followed suit. "Well, the sun would always be in a different position based on where you were on the planet."

"Right." Said the woman next to the man, "It could be day where I am but night where you are if you were on the other side of the world."

"Right." The man confirmed, pointing both fingers back at the woman in affirmation. "Good observation, Linnea."

Linnea. Thought Bjorn. Now he just needed to remember the name of the old man.

"So time zones were just a way of adjusting the time so it made sense. Roughly speaking, noon was always the same time if the sun was in the same place." The old man concluded his time zone explanation with some sense of accomplishment.

"Eventually we got rid of the time zone thing altogether because we no longer wanted to be bound by our planetistic past." The man said, bound with some vigor, some fury as if it was the last thing he'd submit to.

"People back then were duuuuuuuumb" Yelled Canute with acute boredom, apparently no longer paying any mind to his own distraction.

The man grumbled but acquiesced.

"You know what else is dumb, Winter?" Said Canute.

Winter. Bjorn blinked his eyes. How could he forget that name?

"What?" Said Winter, upset that the subject was being changed.

"That there are..." Canute paused and looked around the bar for effect, although no one else but the bartender was there. "..._illegal things_ that we cannot trade."

The kid even made air quotes with his hands.

Winter looked at Canute with disappointment.

"I thought I told you to stop talking about that stuff."

"I'm seventeen, old man." Said Canute, rather egotistically.

"And I'm forty-five, little baby." Said Winter, obviously used to this discourse. "Talking of trading black market commodities does ill for your good luck."

"Forget it." Linnea remarked. "Canute will talk about whatever he wants to. Why do we even bother trying to stop him?"

"Have you heard of D-6?" Canute said, with some measure of controlled excitement. "Those things are amazing! Reese got a hold of a little bit of it and set it off in a deserted street someplace and it blew up like..."

Canute laughed uncontrollably. "...like, everything! Half of the abandoned apartment got decimated, it was so cool!"

"You should stay away from that pyro, D-6 explosives are really dangerous." Linnea said with some concern.

"It was just like a tiny bit." Canute said, trying to stifle his laughter. "Like the size of an apple."

"Yes, but, if you don't detonate it right, it could end up very..." She looked at Winter before continuing. "...very badly."

"Look," Sighed Winter. "If you're going to talk about black market commodities could you at least talk something other than explosives? I tire of this."

"Like drugs?" Canute asked, energetically.

Winter paused for a moment before giving up. "Maybe not that, but-"

Canute started laughing again. At this, Alexia, who was sitting to Bjorn's right, started to stir.

"Fucking." She sat up groggily. "Shut up Canute."

"Hey." Said Bjorn, ignoring Canute's laughter. "Sleep well?"

"Not with this fucking-" Alexia turned to face Canute and bellowed in his face. "SHUT UP, PRICK!"

Canute paid no mind.

"Fucking kid." Alexia groaned and faced Bjorn. "I'll kill him one day. I swear it."

"Hey." Said Linnea, trying to distract her. "You passed out almost as soon as you sat down. How are you?"

"Um." Alexia held her forehead for a moment, then squinted. "Can you make that fucking kid shut up?"

Linnea looked at Canute for a moment then turned back.

"No." She shook her head. "I guess i'll ask you later."

"WHAT?" Linnea yelled.

"I SAID NEVER-" Linnea started.

"SHUT UP!" Linnea snapped again at Canute.

"All right, fine." Canute frowned and then plopped the earbuds back in.

"Well." Linnea said, with her arms stretched out, frozen halfway through a gesture she had forgotten the meaning of. "How are you?"

"Fine." Said Alexia, with a sigh of relief. "Found out that SWT is bringing another shipment of stuff in 3 days. It's about 10 megatons. Should be able to get a lot of good things if we can sneak around the security."

"Which is a joke." Muttered Linnea. "Stuff's probably shit anyway."

"Doubled edged sword." Alexia commented, before continuing. "And no, stuff isn't shit. Have you fixed the scoop on the Hellfox and Highwater?"

"Yup. Didn't take too long. Only thing-" Linnea leaned in a bit. "-I'm not sure the Highwater has much life left in it. I think it's time for it to be replaced."

"Does it need to? Oh, whatever, it's fine! We will find a replacement." Alexia said confidently, leaning back in the chair.

"How?" Said Bjorn.

"I said the stuff that's coming in isn't shit." She felt around in her pocket for a moment. "Hey, do you have gum, Bjorn?"

"You mean the shipment isn't just trash?" He handed her a stick of gum from his pocket.

"Yeah." Alexia unwrapped the gum and started chewing it. "It's wreckage from a battle."

Cadence

A woman looked at her datlink, which was fuzzy and near incomprehensible. Must be the nebula, she thought. The ship rumbled and gases whirled past her windshield. Though she sat at the helm of the rather small spacecraft, which had an extremely large viewing angle of the canopy, nothing but gas could be seen.

I wonder where they went.

She looked at the datlink again.

"Tch."

Then, some garbled voices started to play.

"Skie? Adam? Can you hear me?"

After a moment the garbled voices played again.

Stupid shit comlink.

Then, the voices came in clearer.

"Juno? Can you hear?" The comlink crackled.

"Hey, Adam. Yes, I can." Juno responded. Good. Adam wasn't necessarily the leader, just like neither Juno nor Skie was the leader, but he always knew what to do in bad situations.

"Ok. That must mean we're pretty close. Can you see anything?"

"No."

"Flash your lights for me?"

Juno reached over and toggled the lights a few times before sitting back into the chair.

"Great. That must mean the other ship is Skie's. Let me check on him and I'll be right back. Just hold your current trajectory."

"Tracker?"

"Yup, got you on the tracker."

Suddenly the comlink was silent again. Juno set the ship on cruise control and waited. She didn't really like waiting. Waiting was time she had to think about things she wanted to avoid, like how she didn't really like this job all that much, with all the running away from pirates and boring company and especially how she still felt very alone in this universe. Perhaps there was something wrong with that, she thought, with how she treated life. Maybe the first step was to set roots down somewhere and stay put for a change. Maybe she just couldn't trust anyone anymore, because even the most trusty contact will sell you out if the price is-

"You there?" Crackled the comlink. It was Adam again.

"Yeah." Juno momentarily felt glad that she had a reprieve from her thoughts again. "What happened to Skie?"

"Dunno, ship's screwed anyway." Adam whistled. "Canopy is blown out, but it's still on cruise control. Must've ejected er somethin."

"Do you think he'll be alright?"

"I reckon he'll be OK." Said Adam. "Lets just get out of here."

"You know which way?" Juno looked at her datlink again. Still fuzzy, but usable. "I sure don't."

"Nah." Adam said loosely, with a level of carelessness Juno didn't think was possible in this kind of situation. "Can you look it up?"

"Sure." A few moments went by as Juno sat there, taking about as much time waiting for data to load as she did trying to comprehend the fuzzy diagrams and text. "You seem really calm given the situ."

"You know, it's just something you gotta do in this business." He laughed dryly. "Gotta roll with the flow, 'n all that."

"You know, I don't know if that's really good advice for traders." Juno said questioningly.

"Not all the time, no."

They were both silent for a moment as Juno looked up the coordinates to Icecrown, the closest station to their remote location. Icecrown was a nice place in the way that there were a lot of facilities and services available. It wasn't a very friendly place though, and not a lot of people got along.

Juno punched the command for the computer to start calculating manual navigation instructions for the quantum, and she looked at it for a moment, watching the spinning loading icon, as she thought about what had just aspired earlier, about seven decidays ago.

Juno spoke again.

"Do you think our intel was bad?"

"We paid a lot of money for it." Adam remarked in a casual way.

"No, seriously." Juno breathed into the comlink. "Don't give me some bullshit."

"I think they changed their mind." Adam said, after a pause. "People change their mind all the time."

"Yeah, but we're talking about-" Juno stopped suddenly. "Don't they usually raid people? They don't typically set traps, do they?"

"Yeah, but do you really think that's above a barbaric marauding band of pirates?" He chuckled. "If I were a pirate I'd try to cause as much trouble as possible."

"I guess, but it doesn't make any sense. They've only been known to pillage, why set a trap just meant to do harm?" Juno asked, perplexed. "They want to get some treasure out of it, right? Don't they love treasure?"

"Dunno." Juno could hear Adam shrugging and rolling his eyes. "I'm not one of them, so I won't ever know. Do you have the directions? I would look them up myself but my data banks are hosed."

"Yeah. I got some manual nav instructions for the quantum. You ready for them?"

"Yuuup," Said Adam, drawing out the up part of the word. Juno thought he sounded tired. "Go ahead an' send it."

Ignorance

Triton knew he was in trouble as soon as he stepped out of the flight simulator. Directly across from him, standing in his way, was Alvin. Alvin stood in the middle of the grand simulator room which held several flight simulator pods, situated on poles above a pit. The entire room seemed to be covered in smooth metal panels and despite the fact metal tended to reflect a lot of noise, a fact that Triton tended to hate when he visited poorly-designed restaurants, the room was certainly more than spacious enough to make the sound die out before it was too loud. The pod had just barely fully extended its gangplank to the floor before Triton started to hurry forward.

"Heyyy, Alvin!" Triton extended his arms out in an exaggerated greeting. Alvin did not match his enthusiasm. "How is my fa-vo-rite coworker doing?"

The problem here, which Triton was very much well aware of, was that Alvin didn't terribly like Triton that much. Well, Triton didn't Alvin much either, but that was beyond the point as far as he was concerned. It was going to be a problem that Alvin absolutely hated his guts and probably wouldn't object to the idea of slow-cooking triton alive, if it had to come to it or if it could come to it at all. This hatred emanating from Alvin may have as well been written in a foreign language because Triton didn't really understand why he was so angry.

You see, Triton was the best guy you have ever met. He has the best looks, he always knows what to do, and most importantly, everyone should do their best to help him succeed. Why wouldn't you want him to succeed? He would be the best ruler.

So for this reason, he wasn't really sure why Alvin hated him so much; Alvin definitely had enough time to learn about how great a person he was by now. Did Alvin need to take out his anger on someone? Does he not get laid? Poor guy.

"Why are you here?" Said Alvin, through gritted teeth.

"Why, Alvin!" Triton said, with a hurt expression. "I just came down here to use the sim, that's all."

"Simulator." Alvin retorted.

"I've told you before, that word is way too long. No one's got time for that, sim is a way better word."

"Despite the fact that it would be utterly confusing to distinguish between sims and..." Alvin rocked his head back and forth. "...you know, actual sims?"

"Nonsense." Triton shook his head and then started to walk around Alvin, leaning on the handrails, off the gangplank, and onto solid ground.

"You're not supposed to be here." Said Alvin, not bothering to face Triton.

"Look, I'll just be here for a couple of days. I'm only going to use the sim! I ain't touching any of your other disgusting stuff." Triton momentarily held an exaggerated shrug and a smirk. "Don't tell anyone. Can you do that for me? It isn't too easy is it?"

"How did you get in?"

"Liu let me in."

"Of course." Alvin muttered under his breath, shaking his head.

Triton stood for a moment before starting to slowly walk backwards.

"Alright, so:" He said, pointing his hand in a shape of a gun at Alvin, "I'll be heading to the break room to catch some food and sleep, you'll know where I am if you need me. Cool?"

At that moment Alvin swung around, arms outstretched, and immediately found himself facing his boss. Well, his ex-boss

"What are you doing here?" She asked, annoyed.

"Sim." Replied Triton, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"The what?"

"Simulator!" Alvin cried, before finally turning to walk away from the entire mess.

"Triton. Look at me." Said the boss. "You were fired last week."

"So?" He said, not bothering to turn around.

And with that, Triton found himself suddenly looking at the imposing front entrance of the place-he-used-to-work-at. Again. The first time he had been found out by a patrolling security guard who asked Triton where his badge was. It was policy to wear the badge on you at all times in the building. Triton thought that policy was dumb.

Triton took a deep breath and looked at the three muscular private security guards in front of him who had just brought him here. This time, they were staying put.

"Alright, look. I just wanted to see the company one last time. I'll be on my way now. Could you please stop staring at me?"

The guards stood silently and stared.

Triton took a few steps backward, maintaining eye contact, and repeating his question.

The guards stood silently.

Triton stopped for a moment then relaxed from his cautionary pose to a more relaxed, defeated one.

"Alright, fine." He turned and trudged away.

Since he couldn't get that to work out, he thought, there must be something else the Great Triton could do to help himself get into space.

Ah, he thought. I guess I would need a ship.

Then he was at Abu's place. Abu's rickety shop was smack in the middle of a seemingly trashy, yet expensive part of town, so despite the amount of techy trash piling up around the outside of the building, it didn't seem that out of place. Abu sold ships. Or at least, he used to. He could most definitely hook up the Great Triton with a brand spanking new spaceship. Triton just needed to go to space, that was all.

"Abu!" Triton exclaimed as he walked in.

"Who the fuck?" A large pile of what seemed to be clothes, hidden behind all the trash, turned around. It revealed itself as a large man who then smiled. "Triton! Mother-fucker! I haven't seen you in like, what?"

"Dunno." Triton shrugged.

"Like five years or somethin!" Abu laughed. It seemed like the copious amount of clothes on his back jiggled as well, to accentuate his laughter. "The hell are you up to now?"

"Ah, you know." Triton shrugged again and then sat down. "Just some stuff."

"You know," Abu started, "last I heard'a you, you got youself inta deep shit."

Abu whistled and laughed again.

"What did you do?" He shouted with anticipation. "Motherfucker disappears cuz some thing he did, can you explain that?"

"What are you doing in this dump? Don't you sell ships anymore?" Triton scratched his head in confusion.

"Oh, nah man!" Abu waved his hand like he was brushing something aside. "Market was just shit for a while. Got myself into some real stuff now. Makin custom part orders for spaceships now. You know how much this fool is paying me for this?"

Abu pointed behind him, but Triton had to lean to the side in order to see it better.

"That just looks like a small engine to me."

"Right?" Abu smiled and continued in a lower tone of voice. "Fool's paying me 50 grand for this thing."

"What, really? You're not fucking with me?"

"I ain't!" Continued Abu, "No one makes these anymore and my client can't find anymore of them."

"Damn." This time Triton whistled. "Do you still have any connections to the spaceship dealing business?"

"Why? You trying to get in? Ain't no time to be getting in man, no one's-" Abu sat back, slightly confused. "What, you don't read the news?"

"Nah, nah, it's not that. It's, well, I need a ship." Triton said sheepishly.

"Well, how about you tell me what happened to you before I tell you who can get you one?"

"I... don't really want to talk about it." Triton grimaced.

"Well, I do."

"How about, let's not." Triton retorted.

Abu sighed and frowned.

"Then no." He started to turn around in his chair again before Triton interrupted.

"Wait, wait, wait..." Triton took a deep breath. "Calm down. I know it might be a bit much, but someone like me visiting after not saying a thing for five years can really do a number to people. You don't need to blame yourself for anything."

"Fucker!" Abu sternly pointed his finger at Triton. "Who needs to calm down? I need to stop blaming myself? You're the one who's freaking out about something that happened five years ago! Why can't you talk about it? Why is it suddenly my fault?"

"Hey," Triton shook his head in a condescending manner. "Nothing happened, alright, and you don't even need to know."

"Was it about that girl?" Abu said, accusingly.

"What?" Triton looked at Abu, caught off guard. "No."

"It was the boy then." Abu nodded, then turned back around to start working again. "Go on, keep talking, I ain't goin to stop listening."

"What!" Triton shouted. "Shut up man, it wasn't that either."

"Well," Abu said, with galled annoyance. "What was it then?"

"I had a falling out with-" Triton started.

"Falling out?" Abu snorted in disbelief. "You fell out with almost everybody in college man."

"I had a falling out with," Triton started again, louder this time. "Some of the staff. They said I wasn't good enough to fly a spaceship, and I wanted to prove them wrong."

"Ah." Abu said, screwing in a bolt. "So that's how a crashed spaceship ended up in the main plaza."

"Yeah. I got expelled."

"Yeah, uh," Abu leaned back around to look at Triton with a curious expression. "Where did you get that ship anyway?"

"Oh, that?" Triton lightened up immediately. "I just borrowed it."

"You mean... You stole it." Abu said in a straight voice. "You stole someone else's ship."

"I mean, I was going to return it." Triton cocked his head to the side. "But I accidentally crashed it, you know?"

Abu was silent for a moment before roaring into laughter. He carried on like this for a while as Triton looked around the room. It was completely chock full of tech crap.

Alvin would love this place. He thought. I wouldn't be surprised if he had a part time jobs at a place like this.

"So!" Abu said, suppressing his laughter. "I'm sure there's more to that story but I don't really care anymo'. People thought you stabbed a person or something."

Abu made some stabbing motions before laughing again.

"What you actually did is so much more like you, I don't know why none of us realized that was your doing!" Abu's laughter started to die down again. "So, what did you need from your old pal?"

"I need a ship."

Abu laughed then looked at him again.

"Wait, you're serious." Abu's face transitioned into deep thought. "I thought you were joking."

"Well, I'm not." Said Triton, matter-of-factly.

"Can you fly?" Abu asked.

"Yeah. Had a job requiring me to do it." Triton said, placing his hands on his hips

"Are you sure?" Abu raised an eyebrow.

"Look, that was years ago. I'm different now! I've improved!"

"Do you have the money?"

"Well..." Triton pitched his head back and forth. "Not really."

Hate

Yuki hated them. They were disgusting animals who would trade tomorrow's future for today's profit. They were short-sighted, concentrated too closely to the present now, and often of ill respect. She was interacting with one of these trashes of the universe in a darkened alley in one of the most populated, oldest cities on Mercador. Mercador was filled with this kind of trash - if you knew where to look. It wasn't too hard, really. They could be found anywhere corruption could fester and anywhere shadows could creep unnoticed.

The shopkeeper she was interacting with was one of those shadows. He wore a baggy shirt, ragged and torn, and his hair was an unkempt mess. He smelled of something rotten and his smile eschewed good feelings. Was he a dead man? Yuki thought. I could make him a dead man.

Yuki thought briefly about stabbing the man, using the dagger hidden in her own cloak, to carve out a hole in the man's stomach. To stick that blade in and slowly move it back and forth, splitting the skin into two, making the cut in a semicircle, and then gently ripping the stomach open to reveal the organs. She almost smiled at the thought of the sinews snapping and the blood dripping from the wound. She could grab the man's organs and watch the his expression as she pulled them out. Would he be frightened? Scared? Could he even feel his organs being removed?

She couldn't get much farther along that thought when she was brought back to reality by the man's voice.

"And could you believe what he said? He said, go ahead an' kill me!" He cried, somewhere between a wail and laughter. "Kill me! Hahaha!"

She looked behind him, towards the direction the shopkeeper was talking. Another similarly unkempt man was in the back next to all of the storage, hauling boxes and organizing items. He laughed too.

Disgusting pigs. She thought.

"And so," The shopkeeper looked at her for a moment before looking back at the employee. "I went ahead and shot him! You should have seen the faces of his kids. Priceless."

He shook his head as his laughter died down. He stayed there, leaning on the counter looking in the opposite direction, for a moment before speaking again.

"Hey. Dimwit. You've just been standing there, staring at me. If you want anything, spit it out, or get out of my sight."

The disdainful employee laughed in agreement.

Yuki looked around briefly at the man's wares before tapping the two standard issue tins sitting on the counter to her right.

"How about these?"

"Hey, sure thing kid. I've got more than that in the back if you want any." The man smiled, obviously amused that he was selling to such a young kid in the first place.

Yuki kind of hated that everyone treated her like a kid. She was a legal adult, and should be treated as such, even by disgusting murderers. She would frown and demand respect, but tried to maintain a neutral face instead. The goods were more important.

Dredges of society know no different. She reasoned with herself. And there is no need to get in trouble right now, not when I'm about to get what we really need right now.

"No, that's it."

"You sure? I'll give you a dis-"

"Just bag it."

"Ho-kay!" The man hopped around in place for a bit as he took out a bag and flapped it open, obviously flippantly unaffected by Yuki's annoyance.

"That'll be 50k."

Yuki slid a card across the table. The man's eye's widened as he looked at it.

"Oh." He exclaimed softly, surprised. He picked it up and examined the lettering and the material, before pocketing it. "That'll do."

Yuki picked up the plastic bag and placed it in her rucksack. She didn't really want anyone else to see what she was carrying, where she was going.

The man looked at her, almost solemnly, with a fake sense of concern.

"You should be-" He started.

"Shut up." Said Yuki, annoyed. "I know what I'm doing."

The man just looked at her with silent judgement as she turned around as walked off.

She exited the shop and found herself in the plaza again. It was in a really rough part of town, as evidenced by the copious number of armed men walking around and the low murmur of the plaza's visitors.

She didn't really like it down here, but it was the only place she could come to acquire things such as the tins in the backpack that she just bought. As if on cue, a voice spoke over her comlink.

"Did you get it?" Said a female voice.

"Yeah." Yuki whispered back, as she walked down the plaza.

"OK. Great." The voice said, with no change in tone. "Meet me at Euler's."

Yuki peered around the corner into an alleyway, looking for trouble. There was none.

"Roger that." Yuki said, as she slid into the unoccupied darkness.

The alleyway was a mesh of cobble, tech, and rain. Everything glistened with a sick glazing and the alley itself seemed dark and brooding. Fire escapes and electric lines ran far above, hanging on the sides of buildings in a perilous way. The cold stone walls were covered in cabling, utility panels, and warning signs between the sporadic doors. Lined along the sides of the street was trash, half of it broken tech and the other half was rotten organic refuse. It smelled in the alleyway like some rotten stench of plastic and meat, festering in a soup of rainwater. It was not pleasant.

However, the lack of human presence and light made Yuki feel more comfortable. For these reasons alone, she was the only person who tended to take shortcuts through alleys. Everyone else though it too uncomfortable and too dangerous to be worth the time savings. That's why she tended to do these missions, she supposed. She didn't really mind.

She snaked through the alleys, almost with a mindless quickness, since she had walked these alleys many times before. She walked in a hurried way, but quietly and cautiously, checking every corner before she turned. Eventually, she found herself near a door with a tilted sign, bolted to the door in an unceremonious manner.

It read "Euler".

Feelings

Juno safely disembarked from her ship.

That's the one good thing about big stations with lots of service. She thought. Good security.

"I'm going to go see if I can find out what the hell happened." Said Adam, arriving in the docking lobby right after her. "And see if we can find a new trading mission to run."

Juno looked at the clock.

"I'll be the Anchor Bar" She said, nodding, and putting a jacket on over her flightsuit.

"Sure." Adam nodded back and then briskly walked away.

There weren't many people in the docking lobby. It was quiet for the moment, which was typical since although the station experienced a lot of traffic, most of the traffic was concentrated on the other side of the station where the more popular services were located. There were several screens mounted on the walls displaying docking information. One was showing the news. The floor was tiled with a light metal surface and the sides of the wall looked pastel-colored, both light to the eyes and cool to the touch.

Juno walked off in the direction of the bar. Her feet just sort of knew were to take her, since they had been stopping here for a few months now. It was the nicest place in Icecrown, she thought, and she liked the bartender there. Maybe she could have a nice drink and listen to him mention a few interesting things.

It wasn't long before she arrived at the doors of the Anchor Bar.

"Welcome back!" Said a well-dressed man behind the counter.

"Hello, Chang." She said, sitting down at the counter.

"What can I get for you today?"

"Oh, I dunno." She said, putting her arms on the table and leaned to the side on a propped arm, tired. "The usual?"

Chang smiled and set to work. Juno watched him with idle interest for a short moment before speaking again.

"Hear anything interesting lately?"

"Since last time you were in here, a Kiter fleet tried to raid the L16.5 station."

"Oh." Juno said. "That place isn't far from here. They were fought off?"

"Yeah, not without heavy damage though." Chang said, shaking the cocktail. "The interesting part is that there was so much rubble they had to hire a company to clear it all off so that trading could resume."

"Why would they do that?" Juno scrunched her face. "All of the salvageable parts could be worth a lot of money. I know they have been used by Kiters but that shouldn't really depreciate the value, should it?"

"Well, that wasn't the point." Chang poured the drink, garnished it, and set it in front of Juno. "L16.5 makes so much money from trading it didn't make financial sense to actually salvage all of the ships."

"Huh." Juno picked up the drink and took a sip. "And who did they hire?"

"They hired this company called Steelwater. They do a lot of this kind of work." Chang wiped down his counter.

"Steelwater, huh?" She sat idly, contemplating the information Chang had given her and enjoying the drink. It was an Irish Coffee. It suddenly occurred to her that she wasn't really sure where the name "Irish" came from. Was it a person's name? Was it a place? What was this drink named after them? She realized that though she had thought this question before, she had never bothered looking the information up on the Vikey, even though it probably had the answer.

The bar itself was rather empty at the moment, which was unusual. Behind Chang was a tall shelf of assorted liquors and wines, which almost reached the top of the ceiling. It was a rather impressive sight, and it stretched from side to side. Chang wasn't nearly tall enough to reach the top of the shelf, which was unusual for a tall man like himself, and he sometimes had to request the shelves to be reordered on the panel to shuffle different shelves around.

It was pretty cool to watch the shelves move, but this time the required ingredients were already within arm's reach. The shelves had no backing, and behind it you could see a large projected image of a stylized anchor that would be used on those old-timey ships from those tales people would hear of sailing in the blue drop that we used to call home.

She wasn't really sure how far away from Earth she was, and she wondered idly if she should visit. People made pilgrimages there sometimes, but she thought it would be rather disappointing.

"Hello." Chang said, as the door opened.

Juno faced the new customer who had just entered. He wore a scruffy, mulled bomber jacket over his black shirt and grey cargo pants. It was a pretty old style, but that's what Noah liked to wear.

"Noah?" It was a face she instantly recognized, despite not seeing him for so long. They would chat on the comlink sometimes, sure, but to see someone in person was a different experience.

"Wow! I didn't think you'd be stopping in Icecrown anytime soon. Why didn't you tell me?"

"Well," Noah started, as he sat down. "I didn't think I'd be here either."

She looked at his face in more detail as Noah asked the bartender for a stiff drink. He seemed tired, but more than that, he seemed exasperated. She could hear it in his voice. Something, surely, was on his mind.

Noah turned around to face Juno as Chang mixed the drink to answer the question she had in her mind.

"Kiters."

"Kiters?" She said in response. "Were you at L16.5?"

"No, no." He replied, hastily. "I got a little mixed up in their affairs."

"Their affairs?" She looked at him in disbelief. "Noah, what did you do?"

He sighed.

"Nothing good."

Miscommunication

Noah spit in front of him. On both sides, Kiters walked in a rag-tag fashion, feet hitting the floor in unordered patterns. This was not a good situation.

The hallway itself was circular and ribbed with smooth metal beams. The floor was some kind of mesh, as well as the ceiling. Inside the mesh grating above him, countless cables were tangled amongst each other, obscuring the light, making the area rather dark.

A burly man clad in some kind of metallic armor behind Noah barked an order to the group. They slowed to a stop, then one of the Kiters grabbed his arm from the right and pushed him into the room. As the door closed and locked behind him, he surveyed the room.

It looked like an interrogation room. A metal table was bolted to the floor, as well as the two seats on opposite sides. There was a single light in the center of the room, mounted on the ceiling right above the table. Another door was in the wall opposite of him, but there wasn't a glass panel on either side of the wall, which he found odd.

The door on the opposite side unlocked with a loud clang, and another person walked in. The door was closed, and locked again, behind them.

They walked slowly towards the chair and rested both their hands on it. The person was a large, but average height figure, dressed in all manner of armor and cloth. It almost seemed as though the back of this person was entirely covered in several layers of fabric.

The person's face was obscured by a bandana, which hung around their neck, and the hood that was draped across their face. Their arms were bare, however, and Noah noted the sleeve tattooes depicting dragons swirling in a mist on their arm and had the unhelpful thought that they were done really well.

"Where's my friend?" Noah asked, with only the slightest hint of fear.

The person spoke. Their voice was androgynous and Noah couldn't tell how angry they were.

"Sit down." The figure extended an arm with an open hand toward the chair. "Please."

He looked at the figure, tapped his fingers against his leg for a moment, then bowed his head slightly as he walked towards the chair and cautiously took a seat. He realized how odd it was to not be able to move the chair at all, as he instinctively tried to move it in an effort to make himself comfortable. The chair, of course, didn't even budge or even give way. He tried to slouch anyway.

Now that he was seated, the figure took their turn to sit down in their chair, making no attempt to move it like Noah did, and rested their arms on the table, hands clasped together. Noah felt a pang of childish annoyance that he was the only one who seemed to have trouble with the chair.

"My name is Avery." The voice started. "We'll get to your friend in a moment. We would like to make a deal with you."

"What kind of deal?" Noah said, trying to affix a childish grin on his face. "This isn't going to be so good for me, is it?"

"Well, not really." Avery shrugged. "It could be."

Avery reached into their coat and took out a piece of a dark, almost featureless, stone.

"Do you know what this is?"

"Yeah, I know what that is." Noah replied, confused. "Don't you know what it is?"

"Not everyone knows its significance." Avery replied, setting the stone in front of themselves before clasping their hands together again. "Not everyone. Do you?"

"It's just some void pyrite." Noah said, with a hint of curiosity. "It's not really worth that much and it's neither common nor rare. I'm sure people do trade it, but I don't imagine making much profit off of it."

Noah stroked his chin.

"Why are you asking?" He said, eyes trying to dig into his interrogator. "You're making it sound like it's worth much, much more than that..."

"Well," Started the interrogator. "Do you know where our weapons and munitions come from?"

"I dunno, your raids? Black market deals? Why are you asking me?" Noah threw his hands to his sides. "They come from somewhere, don't they?"

"D-6." Avery said.

"D-6?" Noah was taken aback. "Isn't that really hard to synthesize?"

"We found some technology on one of our raids-" Avery started.

"What raid?" Noah interrupted. There had been a dearth in Kiter raids recently and he hadn't heard of such raids in a while.

"-at L16.5." Avery finished, right after Noah asked his question, with no hint of annoyance.

"You raided L16.5?" Noah laughed. "That must have went very poorly for you."

Avery was silent for a moment.

Shit. Noah thought. Maybe it's not a good idea to make fun of these guys.

"We got what we were after." Avery resumed. "The generalized D-6 synthesis tech."

They picked up the stone again and held it up to the light in front of their eyes.

"What the tech does is take this rock" Avery motioned forward with the rock for emphasis. "And turns it into D-6 explosives with the help of plasma electrolysis. There's only one problem."

"Let me guess." Noah surmised. "You need a lot of void pyrite. Like, tons of void pyrite."

"Exactly." Avery's face betrayed a hint at a smile.

"...And you want me to ship it to you in return for my friend's safety."

"I'm so glad we understand each other so well." Their face broke into a grin as they placed the pocket back in their jacket.

"Well then." Noah looked around the bare room. "When do you want to get started?"

"As soon as possible." The figure stood up. "We would like 10 tons of void pyrite delivered in 14 days. You'll get your friend back then as well."

Avery pulled a device from their jacket and handed it to Noah.

"This is our geolocator. It will tell you where and when to make the delivery."

Noah looked at the device. It was a very simple, sturdy item which fit snugly in his palm. It was almost entirely featureless, smooth on its faces and rough on the sides, with no buttons a single display screen set into the front which displayed some text which read LOCATION IN 70.245.

"In 7 days," Avery continued, "The screen will update with the information, and the information will stay there until the time of the delivery."

Noah pocketed the device.

"I have a question." Noah said, hesitantly.

Avery nodded.

"Is that really enough? Why can't you get it yourselves; don't you have many ships under your command?"

"You're not the only one we have made this kind of deal with." Avery said. "And we cannot do it ourselves. If you've perhaps forgotten, our ships are not equipped to deal with the stresses of planetary landings, where void pyrite is most commonly found. Additionally, the supply of void pyrite in the market is too small because there is no demand for it yet."

"Right." Noah frowned, not sure if he learned anything new. He should have been able to figure those things out himself.

The door behind Avery unlocked with a loud clang and opened.

"We look forward to your delivery." They said, turning around to exit.

The door shut behind them with a thud.

Salvage

The locker room was cold, bare, and in disrepair, just like everything else at Attinger Station. This is where the crew kept their stuff though, since it was pretty close to the docking bay for their salvage ships. The room itself was split into two parts, with a wall that didn't quite reach the ceiling. Bjorn's locker was on the right and Alexia's was on the left.

It had been a few days since the day they had at the bar when Alexia told them about the shipment of wreckage. They had been researching the company and where the wreckage was coming from for a few days to make sure they knew what they were getting themselves into.

Bjorn opened his locker as Alexia opened hers on the other side of the wall. They were both getting ready to don their flightsuits.

Alexia shouted over the wall as they changed.

"Hopefully this is the last time we use the Highwater!"

"Yeah!" Bjorn yelled back.

"We just need to be careful to tow a salvageable ship without being noticed!"

Yeah, Bjorn thought. Fat chance.

He could be hopeful though, couldn't he?

Bjorn could hear Alexia zipping up. That was faster than usual.

"You ready?" Alexia shouted.

"Yeah!" Bjorn replied, and made for the exit.

As he opened the door for the docking bay, the sound of whirring motors whirled into being. It was a loud, high pitched whine, and a low repeating thump, thump, thump sound that steadily increased in tempo. It was the Hellfox, piloted by Linnea and Winter. He could hear the hissing of the omnidirectional thrusters being tested and refueled as well as the sudden rushing of air. Slowly, a ship started to rise in front of him, obscured by the staircase he was climbing with Alexia. It reached its desired altitude just as Bjorn reached the top of the staircase, and turned to exit. Bjorn watched, his flightsuit rippling in the wind caused by the Hellfox's engine, as the ship slowly started to move forward while the engines reoriented themselves.

"Come on!" Shouted Alexia, already clambering into the Highwater. "Let's go!"

Bjorn ran over and seated himself as quickly as possible, but Alexia finished well before he did anyway.

He donned a helmet and calibrated his comlink.

"Voice check." Alexia said.

"Check." Bjorn replied.

"Flight pre-check." Alexia said, with an obvious sense of excitement.

"Go ahead."

Lights On. Electric check. Life support active. Omnidirectional thrusters. Omnidirectional propellant refuel. Forward Engine ignition.

They sped through the checklist with a speed only those used to working with each other could accomplish and before long they were hovering above the now empty docking bay and turning to face the dock exit as well.

"Are you ready?" Alexia said over the comlink, her voice coming through almost as clear as crystal.

"Yeah." Bjorn said, increasing the thrust. The wine of the engine increased as they started to accelerate towards the dock exit. The hum of the force field, a glistening transparent sheet of pulsating energy, separating the human-breathable air of the docking bay and the empty void of space got stronger as they approached.

Bjorn always thought the force fields were beautiful, but in a morbid sense. It just felt like the field separated these two extremes, and if one were to be placed across it, they would be cut and snapped apart between the life supporting aether and the lifeless void. It terrified Bjorn that this thin sheet of pulsating energy was capable of separating life and death and it was for this reason he sometimes found himself in the docking bay alone, if only just to view this sight and think about these things.

The field shimmered as they got closer and a loud, spark-like electric sound echoed throughout the ship as the ship slid through the field and into deep space. Before long, Bjorn and Alexia were left only with the sounds of their ship and the quiet, doom-like silence of the void.

They cruised at this speed for a while but Bjorn couldn't really tell how fast they were going anymore without looking into the rearview camera screen. The pixels shimmered as the details of Attinger Station because less visible and less prominent. Soon, they started to catch up to the Hellfox.

Bjorn heard Alexia switch the broadcast on for the comlink.

"Can you hear us, Linnea?" Alexia said, intercom momentarily crackling.

"Yup." Linnea responded.

"Yeah." Winter responded.

"Great. I'm sending you the dropoff coordinates now." Alexia replied.

The coordinates were already on the display next to Bjorn. It seemed, to him, that they weren't too far away.

They continued on a straight path for a while until he heard some periodic clicking from his monitor.

Click... Click... Click...

The tempo was getting faster ever so slightly.

"Security." Bjorn said into the comlink.

"Yeah." Linnea replied. "Go into silent running."

Bjorn tapped the screen on his right to set the ship into silent mode. The engine behind them shuddered to a stop, the broadcast mode for the comlink switched back off, and the electronics in the ship died down with a slow whine.

The only thing left running was the power on button, which glowed softly with a pale yellow light. The entire ship cabin was quiet. Bjorn didn't even try to move, freezing himself in the position from where he pressed the button.

Soon, the wreckage started to become visible.

Bjorn's eyes widened at the sight. It was a much larger than he thought it would be.

How big did Alexia say it was? He thought to himself. 10 megatons?

The sheer amount of metal, electronics, and ruined cargo parcels floating in this area of space was almost too hard to comprehend. Soon, as they drifted into the cloud, it seemed like in every direction you looked there was only wreckage. Bjorn's comlink picked up a sound. It was Linnea.

"We're probably safe now. Switch off silent running."

Bjorn clicked the button then relaxed back into his seat. The engine sputtered back on, the broadcast switch flipped back on, and the electronics booted up once more.

"We're going to go look for good spaceship parts." Said Linnea, over the comlink.

Bjorn watched as the Hellfox accelerated away.

"Roger that," Said Alexia in response. "We'll look for a salvageable ship."

Failure

"Well," Started Abu, "If you don't have the money, how do you expect to get a ship? You know I ain't loaning you no more money. I'm through with that, I don't even care how much you still owe me."

"Well, it's not that I don't have the money." Triton appealed to Abu. "It's just that it's all locked down in some stocks right now."

"So you'd have enough in stocks if you sold them right now?" Abu said.

"Well, no, I'd have like maybe half the amount." Triton replied, clasping his hands together. "But- I was thinking you'd lend me money anyway. The stocks are a good investment, you can check them out yourself. I'm sure they will grow in price, but I can't afford to wait. I need that ship now."

Abu looked at Triton in disappointment.

"How about, no?" He said, in a gruff voice.

Triton held his hands for a moment before letting them fall to his sides.

"Look-" Said Abu, reaching for his notebook which rested on his workbench. "I'll hook you up with a spaceship dealer and and loaner."

He started to flip through the book, which was littered with tabs hanging from its pages and bookmarks wedged between pages.

"I don't want to take out a loan man." Triton said, forlorn. "Forget it. I'll figure something else out."

"Hey, stop." Abu said, taking a short pause from flipping through his notebook to point at Triton.

"This is the only way you're going to get a ship of your own. If you leave, I ain't helpin' you anymore."

Triton turned around to look back at Abu for a moment. His eyes looked down for a moment and then back at Abu.

"Fine." Triton nodded and sat back down. "Who do I contact?"

"Alright." Abu nodded to himself. "Good choice."

He flipped through the booklet a few more times, wrote something down on a corner and ripped it out.

He handed the ripped off corner of a sheet of lined paper to Triton, but didn't let go of the paper. There were two names scrawled on the paper, in a handwriting that was a lot neater than Triton remembered, and next to each of the names was a number. Abu used his free hand to point at the first name, Gary Cooper.

"Gary Cooper is the guy you want to get your loan from." Abu said. "He almost doesn't even care what your reasons are, he's not a loan shark, and he's probably going to die soon anyway."

"Wouldn't the right to the loans be sold upon his death?"

"That's the thing," Abu said. "He doesn't keep very good records, and he keeps most of it in his head. No one is going to be able to know who to collect money from who. Just make sure you keep good records of the loan yourself, because you're going to need them if he's still alive."

"Now, this guy." Abu slid his finger down the the name at the bottom. "Pierce Nguyen? Don't mess with him."

Abu laughed, before continuing. Triton wasn't sure why he laughed.

"He won't mess with you if you don't. He sells the best goddamn ships on this planet."

Abu let go of the paper, then turned back around to work on his project.

"Ok..." Triton said. He pocket the piece of paper after a moment of examining it. "Thanks Abu."

"Whatever, man." He waved Triton away with dismissal tone of voice. "Good luck."

"Thanks." Triton said, as he turned around and left.

A few days later, Triton found himself seated in a new Grasshopper Century. A man yelled down from below.

"How do you like it? She's a real beauty, ain't it?"

Triton felt the smooth metal finishings and the cool, cold mechanically weaved cloth of the chair. On the right, common controls for spacecraft. On the left, controls for communication, information, and navigation. On the front, the radar was pleasantly large and easy to read. The view angle of the outside was wide from where he sat, and the ship hummed silently.

"Yes." Triton said, finally, "It's really nice, Pierce."

Triton opened the hatch of the ship and clambered out.

"Thank you for showing me that, it's really well made." He said finally, after stepping back onto the concrete ground.

He stood in a large warehouse containing several ships. The ceiling extended high above him, several stories tall, and the warehouse itself was quite spacious, with a smooth, glossy concrete floor extending far in each direction.

Pierce smiled.

"Only the best. Have you made your decision?"

He thought about it for a moment, but not for too long.

"I'll take that one." Triton nodded and pointed at the ship he just disembarked.