#i’m precisely wedged between bag and door so i can’t roll off the pad. and the bag supports my back

[nalgenes]

when someone asks me if i manage to get good sleep while camping and i go into my incredibly specific sleeping setup that allows me to sleep like a rock without fail

[theflyingpimphat]

A to Z Episode 2

Handling illegal goods

It was weird waking up in complete darkness. Arqeez fumbled for the fastening of the safety belts with his smaller pair of hands while a bigger arm was searching for the light switch on the wall. The lamps flickered to life and made finding the fasteners a lot easier. The moment they opened, the belts retracted into the wall, releasing the large exoskeletal from his position on the mattress lying in the corner.

Sleeping while tied up was uncomfortable but necessary, especially considering who steered the ship. Speaking of the pilot...

Arqeez walked in the direction of the bridge, grabbing himself several food ration packages from a box nearby on the way. They tasted like sponge soaked in broth, but were surprisingly filling for something so small. One block between his teeth and several more in hand, Arqeez pushed the panel that opened the door.

Loud noise was the first thing that greeted him. Arqeez could recognize it as some kind of Kun Esh folk music, which meant it had a heavy beat and a lot of low frequency notes that made different parts of the ship rattle in resonance. Arqeez walked up to the pilot seat, paying attention not to step on the brown and white patterned tail sticking out of a section sawed out of the seat's backside and coiled up on the ground.

“Morning, Arq,” came from the seat's front side, barely audible in between the loud music.

Arqeez gave his companion a look. “You look like you really need a break yourself now,” he said with the food ration still in his mouth. Zekra all but hung in the safety belts, both arms slung onto the steering module more as support rather than for controlling the ship. Ge had told once that Serkanians had a pretty high tolerance for extended waking periods, but they still had their limits.

“As much as I want to, I can't.” Zekra leant forward to push a button on the console and the music went quiet. “Hear for yourself.”

Arqeez needed a few moments to listen himself through the various humming and rattling noises that made out the soundscape of the Sciara.

“You mean the knocking?”

“Exactly. Some shit is loose in this bucket again and I have no clue which. That's why I have to be present, to keep tabs on it, hear if it changes or if it influences anything about the controls or the life support until I can land it for a repair. Well, at least I don't have to hang here for long.” Ge gestured at the window.

Only then Arqeez paid attention to what was going on outside. The sight was confusing: there was a weird object slowly growing in the view. It looked like a large city had been rolled up into a ravel, parts sticking out at random angles.

Zekra gave ger companion a look like ge caught him trying to drink the water from the alga farm. “It's a space station. Aun 74 Et, to be precise, also known as the garbage heap of the Tolemut quadrant. I wanted to avoid it, but with the ship dicking around, I have no other choice.”

Arqeez kept looking out of the window while opening another food ration package, examining the odd object called a space station. He could see a number of small ships swarming around it, entering and exiting ports or landing on marked platforms. Sometimes even parts of the space station itself detached and moved to different places to dock.

“But if you need to land there, why are you going around it? There are landing marks all over it.”

Zekra took a few seconds to answer. “There is a very specific repair station I'm approaching. Run by Skiamus. As unpleasant as this station is, that is one of its better elements.”

“Greetings, customer! How can I help you and your ship?”

There was a screen in the middle displaying a stylized face of a grinning Tolemo to interact with, yet Zekra couldn't help shifting ger gaze between the three cameras surrounding it. The jovial electronic voice came from a synthetic entity, a three-metre-long streamlined machine floating at eye height. They were inside a spacious hangar, the last airlock gate that let the Sciara into the space station still closing. Several identically-looking synthetic entities were already examining and scanning the aged spaceship's exterior while other ships were being worked on on different platforms.

“A system check, there is a knocking sound when it is running. Aside from that, a sealing of the airlock. The leaks have been taped shut and allow its use in an atmosphere, but not in a vacuum.”

The Skiamu clicked its tools mounted to multiple arms attached at the bottom. “Understood. The estimated time for full restoration of the requested functions will take 17 tertiary Universal Time Units. Please return in an adequate time frame.”

“How much will it cost?”

“The estimated costs for the requested repairs are between 500 and 10000 Gams. Unfortunately, with the current lack of knowledge of the state of components to repair, a narrower frame cannot be given.”

“Well, let's hope it will be in the lower end. Have fun with the repairs.” The Skiamu's antigravity pads that held it in the air turned, made it swerve sideways and away. Zekra turned towards ger larger companion, who was watching the Skiamu floating away. “Arqeez, let's go, we have 17 terts to spend.”

“They are machines,” Arqeez stated while they walked towards one of the smaller gates leading out of the hangar and deeper into the station.

“Yes, so what? Skiamu repair stations have the best cost-performance ratio you will find in the known galaxy, because they only charge for material expenses with an additional charge that goes towards maintaining themselves, their tools and their station. They have no needs for having a living place, entertainment, families and all those other money sinks us organic lifeforms tend to have. Repairing machines is their only desire. That's why I can also leave them alone with the Sciara and not expect anything to be stolen or anyone taking a dump in the ventilation system for fun.”

Arqeez looked back at the ship. “Speaking of leaving the ship, why not going back and sleep there? You are about to fall over.”

“That is one of the things not to do in a Skiamu repair station. As amiable as they are, they have no consideration for anything not connected to their work. It will be loud and if they have to dismantle the wall with the pallet on it, they will screw it off with you still on it.” Ge sighed. “Well, off to find some shitty cheap dosshouse where the mattresses have formed their own ecosystems sourced from half the quadrant's planets.”

The inside of the space station proper corrobated Arqeez' comparison to a rolled-up city. Everything was either metal, plastic or ceramic, seemingly clobbered together with little regards what fitted to which. One moment they walked over solid metal plates clanking and bending under their feet, the next moment it were grids, allowing the view on tubes underneath, one of them leaking steam. Overhead, cables of various thickness and colour were tied to the ceiling in thick bundles. It was dark, noisy, stifling and cramped, stuffed to the brim with people and the wares they wanted to sell and buy.

Small stores and stands lined the narrow alleys, their owners loudly trying to get the attention of passerbys, mostly in Unicomlang, sometimes in one of the many other languages spoken in the quadrant. Similarly, the people present came from all over the place. Where on planets there was usually one or several species being dominant, Aun 74 Et harboured a wild mixture. Im Kpaz scurried between their feet, a Gthuor was praising his wares with inflated horns and a loud honking voice. A Sharkaz pushed herself through the crowd, proudly carrying a tiny male in a cage with one of her head tentacles while her diminutive nonsapient soon-to-be partner was chittering and flapping his wings behind the bars.

“This one looks promising,” Zekra muttered and vanished behind a door wedged between two stands. Arqeez had to duck to be able to follow.

The low, narrow door led into a room that was barely bigger, containing only a counter with a yellow-furred, bored-looking individual of unknown origin behind it. The moment they saw their visitors, the four piercing green eyes narrowed and the upper mouthparts rose straight up.

“Aah, new customers, come in, come in,” the individual said with a heavy accent.

“How much for one room for four to seven tert-UTUs?” Zekra asked, leaning on the counter.

“40 Gams, paid upfront.” The individual ducked under the counter and retrieved a reader, placing it on top. Zekra pulled a currency storage module from a pocket of the bag harness, unlocked it and shoved it into a port on the reader. Satisfied, the receptionist vanished behind the door in the wall behind the counter and came back with a roll of fabric and ropes soon after.

“Room 4 it is,” they said, placing the roll and two disc-shaped electronic keys on the counter.

“But don't be... too loud,” they added with with a slow blink and a quiver in the middle mouthparts which Arqeez figured was an equivalent of a dirty grin. He gave the receptionist a wary look and followed Zekra into the corridor to the rooms, which was as low and narrow as everything else in this establishment; he had to lower his head and even then his antennae brushed over the ceiling.

Calling the room's interior 'bare necessities' was already a stretch. A dim, flickering ceiling light revealed a toilet and a tap in one corner, a small, rickety table against a wall and two pairs of robust hooks on opposite tiled walls.

“Well, at least it is a way from preventing the spread of disease,” Zekra commented while unrolling the bundle. It was a hammock to be hung onto the hooks.

“Okay, Arqeez, this will take some time and will be really boring for you, but try not to move away from this inn too far,” ge said while hooking the hammock up. “Stay in sight of the entrance when you go out. I will leave a module for you. There is barely any money on it left so you can empty it out to get yourself some food and entertainment for the time being. 'Entertainment' excludes beating people up or breaking stuff, for the record. Sure, I will not forbid you self-defense, but for fuck's sake, don't start anything.”

Zekra took off the bag harness and slung it over one of the hammock's ropes, removed the currency module in question and threw it over to Arqeez. Then ge clumsily got onto the hammock and a bit of shifting later, both shoes dropped out.

“But what if there are no places to get food while still staying in sight?” Arqeez wondered, turning the module and the electronic key in one pair of hands each. “I also wonder what sort of entertainment here is. Zekra, what about fighting rings? Are those fine?”

The only answer was silence.

At first, Arqeez wanted to stay in the room and wait, but after about two hours, it pulled him outside. Making sure the door was closed and secured, he walked the low corridor into the entry area. The four eyes of the receptionist were fixating him on his way.

“Time well spent, I presume?”

Arqeez paid him a brief glance. “No, just waiting. Tired of waiting.” He then stopped, facing the yellow individual and their staring eyes. “If you go in there and take Zekra's stuff or do any harm to ger, I will find you and tear your limbs off.”

The individual's eyes narrowed and the upper mouthparts rose. “I wouldn't think of that in my dreams. We value the discretion of our customers here.”

Arqeez gave the receptionist a last look before he pushed the panel that opened the door to the outside.

Behind the door of the inn he was met with a cacophony of smells. The dominant one was that of the various metals and plastics the space station was composed of, but it was unable to hide the smells of the various nuances of unwashed bodies from a multitude of planets, the distinctive acridity of rust and fuel, the faint notes of decay. And of course, the alluring scent of food.

Following the strongest note of the more interesting food smells, Arqeez' feet carried him to a stand not far away from the inn. Looking back, he could see the door, so he was doing everything right. The stand in question was hissing with the sizzling of hot oil where a spindly exoskeletal was using all their four arms to dump, remove and turn around small orb-shaped things in several pans.

The exoskeletal turned one of his two iridescent stilted eyes into Arqeez' direction, the other one still jerking from pan to pan.

“Oh, hello, dear customer. Here to have some kunus, I presume?” Despite the cook being a completely different species than the receptionist, their voice was dripping with the same greedy sliminess.

“You mean those balls?”

“Of course I mean those balls.” The exoskeletal emitted an amused raspy chitter. “Judging by your size, you will likely want to have an extra large portion. That would be 12 Gams.”

Arqeez showed the cook the currency storage module to have him evaluate the red line that indicated how much was left. “Will this be enough?”

“More than enough.” One of the hands briefly interrupted its work to pull up a reader and tap some buttons while two others were shovelling finished kunus into a large one-use bucket. Arqeez did what he has seen his companion do many times and put the module into the reader's port after opening its protective cap, watching the red line on the module's screen shrink a bit, then removed it when the line started to blink.

With the module back in the pocket strapped around the base of his postabdomen and the bucket in a hand, Arqeez decided to spend his time eating the kunus while checking out the other stands in the vicinity of the inn. A lot of them didn't interest him, like the ones selling machine parts, souvenirs or cloth pieces. There was another food stand in the vicinity, but whatever was being cooked there smelled so unappealing Arqeez assumed it would be inedible to him. Zekra had told him to check if the food he ate was compatible with his biochemical profile or whatever ge had called it. But it was a complex array of letters and numbers he usually forgot right after hearing it, hence he preferred trusting his sense of smell, which hadn't failed him so far.

Speaking of smell, there was one entering between the metal and the weird stuff being cooked that grabbed his interest. It reminded him of the plants he had smelled several planets ago, mixed with cleaning powder and the wall paint used in the last planet's space terminal, yet it was different. It piqued his curiosity and made him follow the scent rail.

The scent carried him to a stand set in a niche in the wall, in a place of the space station that was not frequented much and poorly lit. The stand itself was partially overhung with dark, heavy cloth and manned by a rotund being with tiny eyes, head fans with complex folds and two movable tubes poking out of the tip of the upper jaw, apparently holding nostrils at their tips. On the table in front of the trader there were a number of round flat jars, which looked identical save for the differently-coloured stickers on their lids. The smells seemed to come from said jars.

“What are those supposed to be?” Arqeez asked the trader, pointing at the jars. “They smell strange.”

“Ooh, a connoisseur of arts I hear, welcome to my stand,” the trader piped. Unlike the receptionist and the food seller, this one's feelings seemed to actually match his words. “These are umi'qui boxes, an art form practised by us Varufoi. I will show you.”

The Varufoi took one of the jars and opened it, then put their tubes over the substance inside and took a slow, deep breath. “Ooun wood and Damelian algae with a hint of holom. The wood’s natural balsamic smell gets a note of spice from the algae and the holom rounds it off into a symphony of scent, I tell you. Try for yourself,” they said and handed the jar to Arqeez. Since his olfactory organs were not connected to his spiracles, he brought the jar up to his forehead and waved his feathered antennae above it. It was indeed an interesting smell. Usually, scents were separate elements for him, easy to pick apart and follow to their source. But this mixture made them... fit together surprisingly well? As if they were parts of one single olfactory construct, meant to be together.

The Varufoi seemed to notice Arqeez' confused expression. “You probably have seen drawings or paintings to be enjoyed by those with good vision or music and ranthouls for those with good hearing. Umi'qui boxes are like that, but for those with good sense of smell. It takes skill and talent to find smells that accentuate each other well and then to mix them together in their best amounts. Some other cultures use a primitive form of that to spray or smear the smells onto their bodies to cover their own odour, what a waste! Like burning a painting to warm yourself at the fire!” The Varufoi shook his head, folded and unfolded the head fans. “But I trail off. Here is one which I enjoy in particular. Hmm, can you guess what scent was used as the base?”

Arqeez put down the jar he had been given first and took the new one. The smell that came from it was surprisingly familiar.

“Machine oil?”

“Indeed!” the Varufoi clasped their chubby hands together with elation. “Such a simple everyday substance, yet I could turn it into a piece of art with Limarian herbs and Garmatian brine midge secretions! Now, let me smell you this one, my most recent creation!”

After a time that felt like several terts, Arqeez had smelled himself through the whole collection of the Varufoi's stand. He wanted to go back to the inn to check on Zekra, but as he turned around, there was no door of the inn in sight. Not a single part of the sight had any resemblance to the part where it was located, in fact.

Crap.

Arqeez took the branch-off that smelled most like the area with the inn, crumpling up and dropping the long-empty kunu bucket into a trash disposal. There were more people in the alley he had taken, walking in both directions without stopping. Arqeez followed the flow, checking the smell of the side alleys if it was more or less similar from what he remembered being close to the inn.

Where was it?

Zekra awoke to the sound of the flickering ceiling light.

Uncurling, ge looked around. As expected, Arqeez was not present, so ge didn't bother staying in the room longer than needed.

“Six terts,” ge muttered while taking a look at the wrist computer. “Well, let's hope the big lug didn't get himself into trouble during that time.”

After ger stretching routine, Zekra put ger shoes and bag harness back on and rolled up the hammock, which ge put onto the receptionist's counter while leaving.

“Your friend has left about four and a half tert-UTUs ago, I presume,” the green-eyed individual said after being asked about Arqeez' whereabouts. I haven't seen them after that.”

“Well, thanks. I'm off, then.”

“Grace this establishment with your presence again soon,” the receptionist said with narrowed eyes and raised upper mouthparts.

Outside, the alleys of Aun 74 Et were as busy as usual. Some stands were erected, others dismantled, people walked from place to place, stopped at the stands, vanished and emerged from barely-visible doors. There was probably a member from every intelligent species of the entire quadrant present and there was rarely more than one of each species being visible, but none of those were an Idrath.

Zekra stood at the entrance for a few moments, checking the passerbys and the stands, but it seems Arqeez had indeed wandered out of the dosshouse's proximity.

“You fucking idiot,” the Serkanian groaned. Finding Arqeez in a regular city when he got lost was bad enough, but space stations were worse in every aspect. Zekra sought out the next food stand and asked the trader if he had seen the large, dark grey exoskeletal with orange marks and feathered antennae.

“Nnnot that I know, no,” the trader answered with a nasal, high-pitched voice. “I have opened the stand two terts ago, maybe he had left before I arrived?”

“Must have been that way, thanks.”

Two food stands later, Zekra had found a witness, a Zambularian who was selling kunus which he prepared right at the stand. “Yes, I saw an individual who would match the description. Bought a large bucket of kunus here. Do you want to buy a bucket yourself?”

“Not before I find him,” Zekra replied. “Did you see where he went afterwards?”

“This direction,” the Zambularian pointed with a tong. “Can't tell more, there were kunus to fry. I'm willing to give you a discount, considering a friend has brought you here, even if it wasn't by recommendation.”

“Not before I find him, as said.”

Zekra turned into the direction the Zambularian had pointed, but didn't get far. There was a six-legged machine standing in ger way, two additional manipulative limbs clicking. The top of it was mostly taken up by a glass dome that allowed a view inside, which was filled with water and contained either a Doburen or Xunnm; a skeleton-less, flattened aquatic with two large, mobile eyes and twelve tentacles, each on a separate lever in their mobile aquarium. The broad flat back, starting out with a greenish-brown colour, rapidly began to flash in a variety of colours and patterns.

“Hello, I have seen the individual you are searching,” a monotonous, robotic voice translated the flashes into Unicomlang. “They were walking around seaweed shortjaw-” the aquatic's flashes briefly stopped, then repeated at a slower pace. “They were walking around Hor 39 Alley, which you can reach by going left to the Jounur stand that mutilates... commonplace... sells the stitched kerchiefs. Excuse me, this new visual to auditory communication translator model is recently-installed and ellipsoid... cathode screen... concrete... rape and desiccate this fucking useless piece of electronic trash!” The individual's tentacles curled up in frustration and their flashes became red-tinted. “May the company that stuck it together get infested with worms and shit their own bowels out!”

“Thanks for the information, I think that is enough to find him but I need to hurry,” Zekra told the still swearing aquatic and sped off into the mentioned direction while trying to hide ger amusement at how the translator was able to give out the stream of profanities without a single fault.

The given directions led ger to a narrow alley, past several intersections and then up a metal ramp that connected with the space station layer above. This part was where the proper stores were located. Instead of small stands, inns and pubs that were focused on serving the newly-arrived, these were the parts where those staying for extended time spans or permanent residents of Aun 74 Et would find what they needed. It was not nearly as crammed as the exterior parts, not as stifling and cleaner. But while it was easier to scan the place for the lost companion, he was still nowhere to be seen. Not that he was easy to confuse with a different individual; as far as Zekra knew, he was the only Idrath native who was off-planet and hardly any other type of exoskeletal reached his size and mass.

After wandering the alleys for some time and asking various store owners if they had seen the Idrath with no results, Zekra decided it was time to take matters into ger own hands. Finding gerself a remote dead end where a few crates were stored and no one would disturb ger, ge crouched down, put both ger hands on the ground and closed ger eyes. A few slow breaths to calm ger hearts and clear ger mind, ge extended the antennae forwards.

Telekinesis was a skill that was understood as a means to move objects in space relative to the user. For this, the moved object had to be felt, otherwise it was impossible to give it directions or to even hold it in place. What many were not aware of was the possibility to use this telekinetic sensing as a way of perceiving the environment. Rather than focusing all energy on a single object to move around, it was spread out, used for nothing more than to touch the objects, to perceive where they were and how they moved relative to the user on their own. Focusing on moving objects was easier than on stationary ones, which allowed Zekra to check through a multitude of walking, gesturing people all around ger.

Yet, out of the schemes ge was perceiving not a single one had the shape of a four-armed, large exoskeletal.

Ge spread the perception further apart, stretched it so thin only the schemes of moving objects were visible. It was crucial to remain motionless while doing this, since every motion of gerself would mean the entire space station moving relative to ger, breaking ger concentration completely. Checking the new schemes that entered ger telekinetic perception, Zekra sensed a thin form that could only be a Bolourn run in and out just at the edge, a fight between a Gthuor and an equally large, unidentifiable species and... there he was!

Ger eyes shot open and the antennae flicked back into their usual position. Arqeez was deeper inside and two layers below. Having pinpointed his position and actually finding him were two different things, though – now it was to take the right alleys, find the right ramps or staircases and maybe even climb the right ventilation shafts.

“...And this is how we ended up here.” Arqeez nodded to his conversational partner. She just wanted to open her mouth again and continue when a familiar voice cut in.

“You brain-amputated imbecile! How the fuck did you manage to get so far away from the inn when I have clearly told you to stay in visible range to its door?”

“Hello, Zekra!” Arqeez' face lit up at seeing his companion run over, who looked rather displeased in return.

“You moron could have gone lost here completely! Maybe even wound up dead by bumbling into an area with an environment lethal for you or because someone decided to harvest your organs and dry them to sell as some quackery that enhances performance in the marital arts and other such shit!”

Arqeez shrugged. “But I'm alive and my organs are where they should be.” A brief look down. “Or at least I think so.”

“Arqeez, don't you want to introduce me to your friend?”

The two interplanetary travellers looked at the third person present. It was a female Tolemo standing at the display of a small store that sold various gadgets, both complete as well as in parts. Arqeez had outdone himself in winding up at the strangest places whenever he was unsupervised, as female Tolemos were a rarity outside Tolemut or its exclaves. Society expected them to stay home and they were travel-lazy by nature, preferring to run everything on their home planets and major settlements ranging from politics to home construction, while the males were those travelling around and seeking work off-planet, sending their earnings home to support their families from afar. Appropriately, the individual was shorter than a male but much bulkier, her advanced age and cushy life having only added to her mass, which her robes had a hard time hiding.

“This is Zekra, the one I'm travelling with. We share a spaceship together, breathe the same air, eat the same food, use the same-” Zekra reached up and put a hand over the Idrath's left spiracle to make him stop before he could share more irrelevant and probably more embarrassing details of how they mostly lived inside a glorified vacuum container.

“And we work together,” ge finished for him.

“That much has been told by Arqeez, yes,” the Tolemo snickered with her colouration turning yellow, then looked around. “In fact, we have been talking to each other about a little transport job I'm willing to pay for well. It is your personal possession, that spaceship you travel in, am I right?”

Zekra passed an annoyed side glance to ger partner. Just how much had he been prattling on to the trader? “Yes. It's in a repair station at the moment and still needs a few tert-UTUs before I can go and check on it. It's also nothing big and the storage room is half-filled already.”

Ooh, good, good,” the Tolemo beamed. “What I'm asking for isn't big, and the smaller the ship carrying it, the better. Your friend did tell me you are willing to turn a blind eye on transporting not quite legal goods when the price is right. Let's come inside, where we can talk about the details.”

“Bloody. Fucking. Shit.”

Zekra was looking at the wares to transport in utter disbelief. There were electric stunners as used by security forces on many planets, small projectile arms, hand-mounted plasma generators and many more weapons filling the crate. Ge faced the Tolemo without changing ger expression in the slightest.

“Excuse me, Elem, but I'm not crazy. This crate is more illegal than me taking a crap in this station's water reserves and even if it weren't, I certainly don't want to contribute to the trade of weapons, even if I could buy half the space station from the payment.”

“Do not worry, these aren’t real, just elaborate decoys,” the Tolemo said, still jolly. “Arqeez, if you may pull the trigger?”

The Idrath, who had taken out a pistol to examine it closer, did as he was told. But rather than discharging a projectile, the weapon opened up along its length. It was hollow inside, stuffed to the brim with transparent packages containing a yellow powder.

“Drug smuggling,” Zekra stated, taking the pistol-shaped container from ger companion to examine the contents closer. “But why disguised as weapons? Why not as something less suspicious?”

“Well, we have used less suspicious containers before, but our couriers tended to be sloppy when they thought the container shape alone was good enough to hide the contents. Hence we switched to weapon-shaped containers to maintain safety measures by the smugglers and since then, interceptions of the transports have gone down significantly. Drugs or weapons, the payment for the transport still stands and I'm willing to put something extra on top. As I said, this is important.”

“Fine.”

Elem's skin changed to a purplish pink and her brow tendrils went up. “Refusing to transport weapons but no discussion on drugs?”

“If someone wants to kill themselves, that's their choice and responsibility,” Zekra shrugged. “But I do take issue if someone wants to kill someone else. Where should the packages go, anyway?”

Elem handed over a piece of paper, having a planet name and address noted on it with a clean, small-lettered Unicomlang handwriting. Lyorimut-3. Being unfamiliar with the planet, Zekra looked it up on the wrist computer while continuing to listen to the Tolemo.

“It is a mining colony that focuses mostly on gemstones, to a lesser degree on ores and minerals. It's not densely populated and not close to any major flight routes or colonized planets. Accordingly, the security measures are lousy, but they are still present, so don't be lax. Aside from the payment, I'm also willing in aiding you with tools to help you getting past, if you don't already have them. Is there anything you need?”

“Yes, a part of the payment being up-front to cover ship maintenance expenses, several supply crates like that one containing food rations and a protective breathing mask fitted for Arqeez,” Zekra told while ger eyes were still on the wrist computer screen. “I see the planet's atmosphere has a pretty high carbon dioxide content. Still liveable by a variety of species, but I prefer not to take any risks and having one made for him is overdue.”

“Well, if that's all...” Elem clasped her hands together.

Fitting the mask took about one and a half hours, in which Elem made casts of Arqeez' spiracle surroundings and parts of his head, had them translated into soft, form-fitting rubber through a matter printer, then put them together with a glass screen, filter ports, straps and everything else needed for a mask that would allow both to control air intake as well as cover any exposed mucous membranes like on the eyes. She spent the time talking about her husband working on the planet the delivery was meant to go and how an infectious disease had him sick more often than working.

Arqeez was getting antsy from having to sit still during the process, but in the end, he had a mask in his possession that allowed him to leave the ship on a planet with an unbreathable atmosphere.

He was dangling the bag containing the mask in his bigger arm while the two were taking the way to the Sciara.

“How will the box get to the ship?” Arqeez wondered. “It’s big and if I understood it right, it should not be seen outside.”

“The contents shouldn’t,” Zekra corrected him. “The exterior is fine, there are hundreds of said crates being transported through this station every sec.” Ge pointed at a worker robot rolling by, carrying two such crates.

“That's what the other supply crates are for. That and a longer flight to our destination. Well, let's hope the Skiamus are finished.”

Some time later, they had arrived at the gate to the repair station. The Sciara was neither dismantled nor being worked on, so Zekra assumed the repairs on it were finished. The crates from Elem had arrived before them and were stacked neatly next to the ship's right hind leg. Ger presence in the proximity of the ship attracted one of the Skiamus that were flying around in the repair station.

“Greetings, customer! We are happy to inform you that the requested functions of your ship have been restored.” The grinning face on the display between the three cameras turned from happy to sad. “Unfortunately, we also discovered several more compromised or failed functions we could not leave unfixed.”

“Well, thanks for the additional efforts,” Zekra replied flatly. “How much does the repair cost?”

“The expenses for the requested functions and the additional repairs are 12053 Gams.”

“Slightly overshot the estimation, it seems. Well, I hope it will be worth it and the bucket is going to fly for a long time before something breaks again,” ge commented while taking out two currency modules and handed them over to the Skiamu. As the synthetic entity floated away to the next reader, Zekra faced ger companion.

“I hate to say it, but your little wandering trip came at the right time and brought you to the right place. The upfront payment for our special delivery brought in enough money to afford all those extra repairs, I think a thank you is appropriate,” ge said with a genuine smile that had the tooth plates hidden.

“Hmm, I do have one or two ideas once we're inside the ship,” Arqeez snickered, his antennae standing straight up and quivering.

Zekra rolled ger eyes, ger tail raised in threat. “I could have expected you to bring up that shit again. Seriously, do you have to be so damn horny the whole fucking time?”

“Can I wish you were more horny instead?”

“Arq, I will test the airlock by dumping you on the next asteroid if you don't shut up about it.”

“The transaction has been completed and your expenses have been paid in full. We thank you for using our services and wish you to return soon,” the Skiamu announced as it returned. The two modules were hanging off one of its grasping limbs.

“Highly unlikely, but thanks.” Zekra took the modules. One was empty and the other half down. Ge put them away and replaced them with the remote control for the Sciara's door. “Arqeez, time to get our freight inside.”

Once the crates had been brought in and secured in the storage room department, ge signalled the repair station’s operators to get the ship out. The platform set itself into motion slowly while the inner gate opened. About fifteen minutes later, the Sciara was standing outside the station, more than enough time for the two to have taken their seats. As the turbines sprung to life for the little push that was required for the ship to take off, Zekra listened to its sounds – not only was the knocking gone, but it flew quieter than even at the day ge had it acquired. If everything went right, the Sciara wouldn't have to see a repair station from the inside again for quite some time.

The flight to the planet their freight was destined to go took them about four weeks. Zekra was dozing in the pilot seat, legs resting on the console and chewing on a stonewood stick when a beeping notified ger of the planet's proximity.

Ge slowed the ship down and left the cockpit. The ship would require ger attention in about half an hour again, enough time to prepare for leaving.

Arqeez was playing around with a small rubber ball in the living area. His antennae went up the moment he heard the door open.

“Are we there yet?”

“Yes, time to gear up,” Zekra replied while walking past him, to the wardrobe in the ship's right wall. Ge quickly put a tunic over the dark grey one-parter, then took out two breathing masks together with several belts, tubes and three air tanks. “You won't be prancing around naked this time.”

The Idrath set his antennae askew. “How do you put those things on?”

“I will show you. Sit down.”

Arqeez did as he was told while Zekra put the mask from the space station over his head and attached the lower portion to his spiracles. The thing felt weird, his eyes were looking through a wide visor that obstructed parts of his view and breathing through it created an odd hissing sound.

“Now spread your arms.” After the mask was attached, Zekra wrapped some of the belts around his upper body and he felt first one, then another of the tanks being attached to his back. “I figured you would need two, considering your oxygen uptake.” There was some more fumbling behind him; as Arqeez wanted to turn his head to take a look, one of the tubes was attached to the right side of his mask, then another to the left.

“Done, you can get up now. Try to get used to the gear for the time being, I will go land the ship.”

Curious on what sort of planet they were heading to that he had to wear this odd, uncomfortable contraption, Arqeez followed his companion to the cockpit. The tanks pushed against his back when he sat down.

The planet seemed to consist of a single, yellowish-brown landmass in a blue ocean. It didn’t appear extraordinary, not even close to the odd appearance of the space station and there he hadn’t needed the mask.

“What is wrong with it? Why the mask?”

“It has an atmosphere not everyone can breathe,” came the reply. “I for example definitely can’t. There is a gas in it at such a high concentration that it can make one faint in a few sec-UTUs if inhaled by a species not adapted to it. But before that happens, you will feel like you are breathing acid. But outside of that, you will probably like it. It’s a young planet, just one supercontinent with most of it being dry like a corpse in a boiler room. There is some simple multicellular life in the ocean, but the landmass is barren save for a few microorganisms. Beside the mines, there is little infrastructure, so it’s probably just land, deliver, leave.”

“Hmm.” After spending so much time in the ship, Arqeez would have liked to be a bit longer outside.

“Makes me wonder,” Zekra continued, “if intelligent life evolves there in hundreds of millions of revs, what will they say when discovering the fossilized remains of some mine worker's discarded junk in rock from a time their ancestors were just learning to swim?”

“Ship with the identification tag SC1-26B-AI25, please respond,” came from the speakers.

“Oh, fuck me sideways”, Zekra leaned back and sighed.

“This was a figure of speech, Arq,” ge quickly added when ge noticed the Idrath's bewildered posture. Leaning forward again, ge activated the intercom.

“Ship with the identification tag SC1-26B-AI25 responding.”

“You seem to be new here. Please land on the Temple Arch station for a security check. Coordinates of the station are being sent.”

“On my way.” The connection was broken off. “Great. Bad security that isn't bad enough for us. Chances are, we are screwed.”

The box containing their special freight was in between identical-looking crates containing food rations as well as dried consumables for variety, where it had been put when it was loaded on the ship. There was not enough time to find a better hiding spot – Zekra had to steer the ship, Arqeez would likely mess it up and if they were to search for a better hiding spot after landing, it would just make them more suspicious. Their best chance was to pretend the load had been slipped into their supplies by accident, which in turn might result in a bigger investigation and would still have them detained for the time being. What was left was to expect the worst but hope for the best.

Temple Arch Station was ridiculously small. Aside from the Sciara, there were just a few even smaller intra-atmospheric ships standing next to nearby buildings, and with that the station was at full capacity. The ship's door opened with a hiss and extended its ramp to the concrete ground.

“Just act like you do on other stations, be quiet and let me do the talking” Zekra said, ger voice distorted by the breathing mask covering ger face. “And if you feel dizzy or short of breath, tell me immediately. I'm not joking about that.”

At the bottom of the ramp there were three security workers already waiting for them. A Hrrau stood in the middle, the only one of the three not equipped with a breathing mask, flanked by a Tolemo with a heavy-looking bag slung around the shoulders and a Ronoumun holding a pen and pad.

“Welcome to Lyorimut-3. What is the reason for the visit?” the Hrrau asked. The Ronoumun remained behind her, tapping the pad with his pen while the Tolemo walked up to the ship, examining the exterior.

“We are visiting a friend in Hatorix Quarry 14.”

“Anyone could say that. Any friend in particular?”

“Yes, his name is Louno,” Zekra told, trying to remember as much about Elem's husband as ge could. “He's a mine worker, but doesn't handle the work very well. He was in the adjacent hospital last time I heard from him.”

The Hrrau's eyes passed over the Sciara. “And what sort of freight do you transport?”

“Aside from the necessities, not much. Some minor mechanical parts and dried herbs for the most part.”

“What a piece of junk.”

As Ledvejet was questioning the two-person crew outside, Hisnar was tasked to examine the ship itself. It had already looked like an exhibit in a run-down museum from the exterior. The inside wasn't any better, the smell alone made him wonder if the ship had been used as an interstellar hearse. He was surprised the chemtracer wasn't getting a short circuit from the smell, but the device meant to detect traces of a wide selection of drugs and explosives functioned normally, showing nothing of concern.

After Hisnar had walked the entire ship with the chemtracer in his hands remaining silent, it was time to check the freight. It was in the hindmost room, behind two compartments that contained respectively a toilet and an apparently nonfunctional shower that was abused as an additional storage room mostly occupied by an EVA suit. There were several compartments behind wire doors, stacked with tied-down crates.

Hisnar went to work, pushing up the door of the leftmost compartment, taking out a crate and opening it. What he saw were optical lenses, thrown into the crate without any care and seemingly taken out of discarded devices. The second crate contained copper scraps, The third one was something else: packages of dried plant material. Hisnar held the chemtracer over them, but it showed no reaction. Apparently those were just spices. The fourth crate was full of mostly unidentifiable mechanic parts, with a damaged cybernetic arm on top.

Every new crate made Hisnar doubt the chance the two were smuggling anything illegal more and more. He had been working at security stations for a good part of his life and had checked countless ships in that time, even before he had been demoted to work on this forsaken, barely-habitable dump. From what he had seen on this particular ship, everything pointed towards it being owned by small-scale scrap dealers. Drug smugglers using such a small and old ship were usually addicts themselves, but the two talking with Ledvejet outside seemed to be normal and the chemtracer would have gone haywire once Hisnar would have left the airlock. And weapon smugglers were usually parts of crime organisations that would for sure not use anything that wasn't pristine and screaming 'law-abiding citizen'. Of course, there were always new types of explosives being developed the chemtracer wouldn't react to. Some type of exotic drug meant for a species with an uncommon biochemical profile and an active group that wasn't part of the chemtracer's detection range. But these sorts of illegal goods were smuggled either by bigger, newer ships or in public shuttles, as no one developing those would give their expensive creations over to a flying scrap heap.

Having worked himself through crate after crate of junk and herb packages, Hisnar opened the last door. It was stacked with crates which, according to the tag stickers, were packed with food rations and purchased on Deurem. One of them was already open, showing the typical packages. He leaned further in, to see if there was something else besides those crates, as an infernal screech and a blue-green flash lunging at his face with wide-open jaws full of black teeth made him jump back with a surprised yelp and slam the wire door shut.

The beast continued to screech and sputter, digging its black teeth into the wire as Hisnar ran for the airlock.

“That... is the weirdest story I have ever heard about anyone coming into the possession of a ship,” the Hrrau said with tilted nose flags, “but let's assume it's true.”

“I have the papers to back it up,” Zekra said with a shrug. The Hrrau wasn't really paying attention, as she saw the Tolemo emerge from the ship and hurriedly run down the ramp.

“Have you found anything suspicious, Hisnar?”

“No, but there is an infestation in there! No clearance!”

“Was the 'infestation' of a blue-green colour, had pink jaws and six legs?” Zekra asked. “Because that would be Mourin, our karucat. She's there to prevent infestations from happening. Is she okay?”

“By the spirits, why would anyone want to keep such a beast?” the Tolemo addressed as Hisnar said, the fear still evident in his voice and colouration. “But yes, she is okay and tearing apart the storage room right now probably.”

Mourin had been in an exceptionally foul mood in the latest time and must have given the security worker quite some shock when he had intruded her territory, Zekra noted with some degree of satisfaction.

“Aside from the karucat, what have you found in there?”

“Dried plants and mechanical junk. Chemtracer remained silent everywhere. I think you can clear them, these are scrap dealers.”

“That's what they have told me, too,” the Hrrau said to her Tolemo colleague, then faced Zekra. “Well, I guess we are done. Enjoy your stay on Lyorimut-3.”

The Sciara was gliding over a span of rocky desert with no sign of civilisation in sight. “Fucking waste of fuel,” Zekra grumbled, ger voice nearly drowned out by the howling of the ship's turbines.

“Hopefully there will be an opportunity to get fuel nearby, otherwise the tank is spent after the next landing. Some extra food for Mourin, too, the little bastard made us get through the security check unscathed. Still, makes me wonder what stuff we have loaded, if the chemtracer didn't detect it.”

Arqeez was in the copilot seat again, having taken the mask off and hung it around his neck. The view from the window was oddly familiar, so similar to his home planet he almost expected one of its enormous predators to saunter out from behind a rock formation.

The flight continued in silence, until buildings appeared on the horizon. There were not many, just the necessities of the mining operation itself and its workers. Zekra steered the ship to land in front of the building that was noted on Elem's instructions, but ge couldn't quite believe what sort of building it was. “A fucking hospital?”

As the two stepped out of the ship, one of the hospital workers was already running up to them. Zekra expected him to chew them out for landing on what ge assumed to be the landing strip for intra-atmospheric vessels.

Instead, the worker said: “The sky has a beautiful shade of blue today.”

Zekra's left antenna twitched. This was the code phrase for the delivery. “It will be prettier tomorrow,” ge replied in a bewildered tone.

The worker's posture changed with relief and his elation could be clearly heard through the breathing mask. “Finally! Fuck, I had thought Elem would never find someone for the bloody transport!”

“Excuse me, but seriously? Drug smuggling for a hospital?” The Serkanian was still baffled by this turn of events.

“Well, not quite,” the hospital worker said, stepping from one leg to another. “The delivery didn't contain drugs in the 'substances that get you high and possibly addicted' sense, but a type of experimental Torouvian flu medication that hasn't been approved yet. It was considered a failure in the beginning, but recently, new tests performed in a high-carbon dioxide atmosphere showed it to be effective against those damn spironates that thrive in this planet’s atmosphere and have become pathogenic. We can't wait the revs for the tests to be wrapped up, because the mine workers are bloody suffering now.”

“But... why? Why let it be delivered through drug smugglers if you could have flown it in through a regular medicine transport? It would have been quicker, too!”

“Maybe it would, but this hospital is not approved for research functions. If we were to transport substances unapproved as medicine, everyone involved in the transport would face punishment and the hospital would risk closing down. Detainment for the contribution in the administration of unapproved substances to patients is up to five quints, but smuggling drugs onto Tolemut-controlled planets and bases? Fucking three quints at most, and the security checks are a joke compared to official medical traffic. Hence we had to rely on illegal ways to have this medication brought here. It’s not always easy, because hardly anyone would bother with the long flight to Lyorimut-3, but it’s the best we could do.”

“That’s quite the revelation,” Zekra commented. Hospitals having to cooperate with drug smugglers... Ge wondered what killed more, the diseases or bureaucracy. “Arq, time to get the crate out.”

A few minutes later, they returned with the crate, while the hospital worker called for a few colleagues that brought a barrow with them. The crate was exchanged for several full red lines on their currency modules, but unfortunately, there was no possibility to refuel. The hospital's fuel stations were only suitable for intra-atmospheric vessels and the next station for spaceships would require another flight that would empty the Sciara's tanks, which still left the question of the type of fuel being used for the shuttles being compatible with the Sciara unanswered. Hence, the ship left the atmosphere, where it could switch to the antigravity drive that didn't use turbine fuel.

“Finally, the mask is off.” Despite the ship having left Lyorimut-3 behind and it being highly unlikely any of Zekra's mad flying was to happen in the near future, Arqeez remained in the copilot seat.

“I will see if the next planet has a breathable atmosphere.”

“What planet do you aim for?”

“Haven't looked for one yet. The flight to the next one will take some time, especially now we are low on fuel and have to skimp on the maneuvering.” Zekra undid the safety belts and got out of the pilot seat. “Since you are so comfortable here, will you stay here for a few secs and alert me if something happens? There are a few favours I have to return.”

Ge went straight from the cockpit to the storage room in the back. “Hello, Mourin.”

There was a special crate among the scrap department that contained meat conserves made from Fenaharian cell cultures specifically for such occasions. Ge took one out and opened it, spreading the foul smell of its contents in the small room. A quiet hissing and chittering told of the other living being in the room noticing the smell as well.

The karucat stood on the highest crate in the food department but wound itself out of the first gap when the door was raised. Mourin scuttled from side to side, looking up expectantly. As she was handed the opened conserve, she started to gobble down its contents, dropping half of it on the floor.

Zekra crouched down to watch the karucat eat with mild amusement. The mess she left was no issue – she would lick it up to the last bit when the conserve was cleaned out and even is she didn't, it was a fair price for her to allow the Sciara to pass through the security check despite their rotten luck.