Maggie
Driok wasn’t kidding when he said this place was busy. The small spaceport we landed at was bursting at the seams. No one paid either of us the slightest bit of attention as we disembarked. To the point we probably could have left the disguises behind.
However, I am pleased for the use of the respirator, given Driok was absolutely correct about the dust. It’s everywhere, swirling around us, making seeing not so easy, save for the visor I have, which makes everything clear.
The technology contained within it finds anything which might be hidden in the miasma and ensures I’m not tripping over anything. Or losing sight of Driok.
I want to be a badass, but I’m very well aware I need the back up of my big, bad Sarkarnii. Otherwise I’m just a pissed off pregnant lady with a ray gun.
Driok dodges behind a large boulder, which turns out to be the rear of a market stall, one which is covered in a thick layer of dust. He checks his comm.
“How far?” I ask quietly.
“If this signal is true, about two kiliks from here.” His head swings towards me. I can’t see his eyes, but I feel them roving over me. “Do you think you can make it?”
“I’m pregnant, Driok. I haven’t broken my leg. I can get there. And anyway, this is about checking the place out, not a rescue, so there’s no need for a route march,” I grumble at him.
Driok huffs. His face mask stops the smoke from escaping immediately, but then it curls out from under his headgear. It fortunately coincides with another blast of dust from the atmosphere around us and is quickly dissipated.
I put my hand under his cape and onto his bare arm, enjoying the warmth from his smooth, silky scales.
“I know it’s hard, but once we understand what we’re dealing with, we can make a plan which will be foolproof,” I say to him. “I want your crew back in once piece, as do you.”
“Sarkarnii are robust,” Driok says.
“I know. I saw how you healed from the pulsar bolt. But we don’t know anything about how they’re being held or what will happen to them if you go in all flames blazing.” I give him a squeeze. “We don’t want them to do anything we might later regret.”
Driok releases a growl, but he puts his hand over mine.
“Let’s look around, little mate.”
Fortunately he can’t see my relieved smile. For a moment, I thought he had every intention of diving right into a rescue which was unlikely to be a rescue, not in his frame of mind.
I totally get it. If I thought my friends were here on this planetoid, currently held captive by some horrible aliens, I would happily be shooting everything and everyone to get them back.
But our experience with the baron has proved nothing can be trusted, and in fact, nothing should be trusted, especially when it comes to making plans.
Driok moves out from behind the stall, and I stick by his side as we continue through the dusty street lined with two-storey buildings, all covered in the buff dust which is interminable. More crowds throng this area, most of them dressed similarly to ourselves. Making us almost invisible.
It’s such a contrast to Xracak City, I’m almost surprised when I see some lights glowing through the clouds of swirling dirt.
“What’s this?” I touch at my visor, trying to get a clearer view.
It clicks into place, and it would seem we’re at some sort of restaurant or bar, the patrons spilling out into the street. The smell of greasy food makes its way through my respirator, making me feel queasy.
“We need information,” Driok says.
“What? In there?” I hang back.
“I dislike it as much as you, little mate,” he says, his voice strangled by the mask he wears. “But we have no friends here and no contacts. This place is as good as any to find out what is going on on this planetoid.”
It doesn’t please me to admit we have few options, and ultimately this was my idea. If we are here to collect information, then we’re going to have to make it count.
We head to the bar, Driok going ahead of me to plough a way through the door and into the, slightly less dusty, interior.
Given there’s no airlock, all I do is drop the fabric covering my respirator so that anyone wondering why I haven’t removed my headgear will know it’s because I can’t properly breathe in the atmosphere.
It works, as no one gives me more than a passing glance.
Driok has flipped up his visor as we get into the middle of the place, and there’s a robot operated dispenser which is surrounded by the patrons, many with their faces covered as Driok’s is.
It would appear we fit in.
Driok maneuvers me into a small booth which has just emptied out.
“Wait here. I’ll get something from the bot, so we don’t look like we’re trying to get information,” Driok says.
I don’t say as virtual strangers, the chances are everyone will think we’re looking for information.
Driok disappears, and I wait, drumming my fingers, encased in gloves, on the table.
“Hel-o.” A metallic voice has my head jerking up to see that another bundle of clothing, almost identical to mine, has slid into the booth opposite me.
“I’m waiting for my friend,” I say, looking out to see if I can spot Driok. Except I can’t.
The bundle hasn’t moved.
“So that’s your cue to piss off,” I add.
“I believe the mistress might need my assistance.”
“I do not.” I finger the pulsar pistol beneath my cape. “Go away.”
There is a loud crash, and I try to jump out of the booth. My clothing is gripped tightly, stopping me from leaving.
“I believe the mistress might need my assistance,” the thing says again as there’s a burst of flame over the top of my head which is suddenly cut off.
Not good. This whole situation is not good at all.
Maybe we overplayed our hand. And maybe we weren’t as stealthy as I had hoped.
“The mistress will come with me.”