I don’t spot any manner of law enforcement or guards until we reach the end of the passage and a door leading into the next section. There’s a security checkpoint of some kind set up, a group of six thuggish guards waving a wand over the people as they pass. We didn’t have checkpoints like this on Spindle, but I’ve been to places that do. In Alliance space, the guards are looking for guns and checking identification. I can’t begin to guess what they’re looking for here. Rozik said it was safe to carry.

  We end up in a line stretching a few meters back from the checkpoint with nearly twenty people ahead of us. The first ten process fairly quickly, but I start watching the guy four people ahead of us and I see he’s getting antsy the further the line progresses. I tap Rozik on the shoulder and motion to the guy, and Rozik nods like he’s already noticed.

  “You want to do it?” he asks.

  I shake my head. I don’t want the attention. If anyone gets too curious, or if they get a hold of my Lucier and decode my profile we’ll be detained. Or worse. And I don’t doubt there are people on this station who can crack my needle’s security.

  He understands the position, and he shifts his place up behind the nervous guy as we advance. Shaky is third in line when he makes his move, pulling a pistol from under his coat and swinging it at the guards. He shoots one of them in the chest, dropping him before anyone has time to scream.

  He would kill them all if he could, but Rozik grabs him from behind, quickly pulling his gun arm back and breaking it before turning the man around and punching him in the face, shattering his nose. Then he holds the guy for a few seconds until the rest of the guards reach him, letting him go so they can pummel him to the ground.

  The line is held up for a minute until security’s had enough. Then the lead guard returns to Rozik. “Thanks for the help, Mister…?”

  “Novari,” Rozik says. “Carlos Novari.”

  “Novari,” the guard replies. “That’s a Commune name.”

  “It is. My associate Grayson and I are here to sell a freighter if you know anyone who might be interested.” He motions back my way.

  I nod to the guard. “He’s supposed to be guarding my body, but he’s a little slow on the uptake. You know how it is.” He smirks back at me while the guard laughs. I’ll find some way to pay him back for the comment.

  I wait for the guard to give Rozik hell about being a Commie. It rolls right over him. “You stopped this asshole from hurting any more of my crew. I’m sure I can get a message to Mister Rocklin about your business. He’s always looking for assets with potential. Do you think your freighter has potential?”

  “Definitely.”

  “You headed inside the commissary, sir?”

  “We are.” He points to Yari. “I’ve hired a guide to show us the highlights while we’re here, but I’m afraid she’s poorly equipped for the job at the moment. I need to get her some finer clothing.”

  “Well, I’m sure Mister Rocklin will be grateful for what you did. Don’t wander off too far and I’ll see if I can get him to send his appraiser down to look at your ship. How does that sound?”

  “I appreciate that,” Rozik says. “While we’re on the topic of gratefulness, I’d be most grateful if you could help me get access to a secured channel. Grayson and I have a few urgent communications to send through the synchronizer.”

  “I’d help you with that if I could, sir,” the man said. “But Mister Rocklin isn’t in control of the synchronizer.”

  “I don’t understand. You gave me the impression that Mister Rocklin is in charge of the station.”

  “He is,” Danos replies. “Well.” He winces at the thought of trying to explain. “It’s complicated.”

  “I told you, Mister Novari,” Yari says. “I can help you with that. It’s what you’re paying me for, right?”

  “Of course,” Rozik says. “Go ahead and get the appraiser if you can, Danos. You have one standard hour. Also, I hope your man has a speedy recovery.”

  I look over at the guard. I can tell from where I’m standing he’s already dead. It’s a shame. I know Rozik waited on him to shoot someone before he made his move. The whole scene in front of me is improvised but intentional, right down to Rozik’s suddenly proper demeanor and accent.

  He’s done this sort of thing before.

  Plenty of times.

  “Yari, Grayson, shall we?”

  Rozik walks himself right through the checkpoint. No scan, no review. Yari and me follow behind him, clearing our way into the commissary with our pistols still present, accounted for and hidden from view.

  “Slow on the uptake?” I say once we’re inside.

  “Just part of the game, Alliance,” he replies. “Play along.” He smiles at me and turns to Yari. “Lead on.”

  Chapter 13

  The commissary isn’t one store. It’s more like the shopping center on Spindle, an entire network of stores and services organized within a central area. In this case, the large bulb at the relative top of Naraka’s geodesic structure. The space is three floors high, with exposed stairwells and elevators filled with what had to be at least two thousand people. At the entrance, the smell of food is strong, and I glance to my left to see people sitting at tables and eating.

  I’ve never experienced anything like this inside the Alliance. It twists my brain to see it here on a ghost station at the edge of the Sphere, especially considering it orbits a barren world like Naraka. I don’t understand how it’s possible here, but not on any AOP governed worlds.

  “When they tell you crime doesn’t pay, they’re lying,” Rozik says, answering the question I haven’t even asked yet. “The Alliance pours so many resources into the war it doesn’t leave much left for anything else. These people are outside of all that. They keep almost every chrome they earn and live in relative comfort, safety and peace. It isn’t like this on all ghost planets, but Mister Rocklin seems like he has a solid head on his shoulders.”

  “Lucky for us,” I say. “Probably not lucky for them.”

  “Why not?”

  “What do you think is going to happen to this place when the banshees show up? They might be comfortable now, but that’s because the Alliance is ignoring them. This station won’t stand against an attack.”

  “You might be surprised.”

  “Let’s hope we don’t find out. Don’t lose our guide.” I point to Yari. She’s a few meters ahead of us, walking toward a store in the distance. I can see clothing in the window. Simple stuff like the other residents are wearing.

  “Yari,” Rozik says, calling her back to us. “Not that one. Something more upscale.”

  “Upscale?”

  “Expensive,” I explain. “More chrome.”

  She smiles. “I can do that.” She changes direction, ranging ahead again.

  “Why did we hire the kid?” I ask.

  “I thought you understood the need for a guide.”

  “I’m on board with that. But why a kid? Why her?”

  “She’s the first child we encountered, and she has an attitude about her that I like.”

  “Okay, but you were specifically looking for a child. Why?”

  “Because no one pays attention to children or takes them seriously. That means they see and hear, and know things that adults don’t. They don’t give kids enough credit. Plus they’re easier to manipulate. That’s a perfect combination.”

  “She’s got a comm on her.”

  “An augment,” Rozik says. “I know.”

  “How?”

  “This isn’t my first day on the job, Gray. I’m giving you a pass because you’re a pilot, not a…” He trails off, smiling as he does, teasing me about his background again. “But yes, I’m aware of her enhancements, and picking the right outfit for her will help. But it might not matter; her handler has been following us since we hired her. Don’t turn around.”

  I don’t. I believe Rozik when he says the guy is there. “Handler? Not her father?”

  “I don’t think so. She probably doesn’t even know who her father is.”

  “Then who is her handler to her?”

  “Probably bought her from a passing trader. Who knows? It’s not important to our mission. The most important part is getting access to the synchronizer, and it seems that’s easier said than done.”

  “But Yari’s got an in, right?”

  “Another reason to hire a child. If they’re cute enough, they can manipulate most adults as easily as adults manipulate them.”

  That one makes me laugh as I remember Fiona’s mischievous and sad puppy eyes. “Fair enough. Are augments common in the Commune?”

  “They aren’t illegal like they are in the Alliance, but they are regulated. Simple enhancements, like the payment card reader Yari has embedded in the back of her hand. If it can’t be powered without adding an external battery, it’s off-limits. There are some exceptions for military, but the cost is prohibitive for most. In any case, I can’t say the same for out here. Every ghost planet and ghost station has its own rules.”

  We keep following Yari as she leads us up to the second level, to a store that’s decidedly fancier than the first. There’s a gold sequined evening gown hanging in the window, a holographic projection of a woman cast into it. She spins and twirls, and the mechanics of the base move the dress with her, showing it off.

  “Pretty,” Yari says, watching it. “How’s this place, Mister Novari?”

  “Perfect,” Rozik replies. “Let’s go inside.”

  Yari runs in, excited about the prospect of wearing anything even close to the gold dress. We’re still outside when we hear a man’s voice shouting.

  “Get the hell out of here, you damn vent rat! Who told you that you could come into my shop?”

  The large, heavyset man is shooing Yari toward the door when we step inside. The man immediately stops shouting, lowering his voice and taking a completely different tone.

  “Excuse me, sirs,” he says. “I’ll be with you in one moment. I just need to take the trash out.”

  “Hold on,” Rozik says. “She’s with us.”

  The man looks shocked by the comment. He stops moving, standing stiff.

  Yari turns around, smiling. “That’s right. I’m with them.”

  “I’m sorry, Mister…”

  “Novari,” Yari says. “And Mister Grayson. They’re ship traders. They hired me as their guide, and they want me to look as nice as they do.”

  The shopkeeper looks us up and down. We’re dressed like we’re wealthy. How’s he to know it’s all borrowed from a dead man? He looks at Yari again and finally gives her a smile too. “Of course. What kind of outfit are you looking for today, young miss?”

  “Something sparkly,” Yari says.

  Rozik is moving again, looking through swatches of material hanging on the wall. He stops at one that appears to be made of an aluminum blend. It shimmers and reflects as he shakes it.

  “This one perhaps?” he asks.

  “Yes,” Yari agrees. “It’s beautiful.”

  “That’s just the material,” Rozik adds. “You have to pick a style.” He looks at the shopkeeper, who nods and hurries back to his desk. He takes out a transparent slab and taps on it, opening his pattern catalog. It takes him a few more taps to get to the girl’s section. Then he returns to Rozik and holds the slab out to him.

  “I can make any pattern here. My printer is the latest from Deco Design.”

  “Don’t hand it to me,” Rozik says. “I’m not going to wear it.”

  The shopkeeper is slightly embarrassed. He turns back to Yari, holding it out. “Here you go, young miss.”

  “Thank you,” Yari says. She starts flipping through the book. Rozik puts his hand on my shoulder and leans close to whisper.

  “Her handler probably knows what we’re up to. Can you wait outside?”

  I nod. “If you’ll excuse me, I have to step out for a minute,” I say, trying to match Rozik’s more refined verbal output. It doesn’t really suit me. I’ve always thought of myself as more of a basic meat and potatoes kind of guy.

  I leave Rozik and Yari to it and leave the shop. I don’t want to look too suspicious, so I walk toward a food cart near the tall glass walls at the edge of the level. I sweep the area as subtly as I can, looking for Yari’s man. I haven’t spotted him by the time I reach the cart. The woman operating it smiles at me. She’s older, a little overweight with a brown-haired bob and a kind face. She reminds me of Shae.

  “You’re new here,” she says.

  “I’m here on business,” I reply. “How’d you know I’m new?”

  “Never seen you before.”

  I smile back at her. “You must see hundreds of people pass by every day.”

  “I do. And I ain’t never seen you here before.”

  “You recognize everyone?”

  “Mmmhmmm. It’s what I do to pass the time.”

  “Whatever you’ve got in that cart smells delicious.”

  “Apple kringles,” she says. “My great-great grandmother’s recipe. And the apples are imported from Vilsy.”

  “You’re kidding.”

  “I don’t kid about apples, honey. They’re twenty chrome if you want one.”

  I’m about to say yes when I catch sight of my target out of the corner of my eye. Reaching the landing to the steps, he crosses toward the tailor’s shop, looking none too pleased with Rozik’s plan to cut off his comm link to Yari.

  “Excuse me,” I say. “I have to take care of something, but...” I look longingly down at the apple kringles. “...I’ll definitely be back. Those smell delicious.”

  Walking away, I vector toward the target as he storms toward the shop. I come up behind him and put my arm across his shoulders. He flinches in surprise and starts reaching for something tucked into his belt. Probably a knife.

  “You don’t really want to make a scene out here, friend,” I say, my hand on his wrist before he can draw the knife. “I’ve got a gun under my coat, and you’ve only got a knife.”

  He scowls at me. “Who the hell are you?”

  “I just wanted to tell you you were wrong.”

  “What?” His scowl deepens.

  “About the girl’s box,” I say. “It wasn’t empty.”

  “You didn’t answer my question.”

  “Because it’s none of your business. We paid for your girl to guide us. I know you gave your approval. So why are you here?”

  “I didn’t expect you to try to ghost her. You’re not taking her from me.”

  “We don’t have any intention of taking your daughter from you. But our business is none of yours. Be glad we’re putting her in something to block the signal instead of having it cut out of her.” I’m not sure that’s really possible, but it sounds more intimidating.

  “She’s not my daughter,” he replies. “She’s my wife.”

  “Wife?” My face freezes in contorted rage, and he uses the opportunity to try to yank his wrist out of my grip. Worse, he reaches for the gun under my coat. I grab his wrist again before he can get to it, my anger giving me enough extra strength to squeeze his wrist until he grimaces. “She’s just a kid.”

  “It’s not illegal,” he claims. “I paid for her, fair-up. I got a signed contract.”

  Everything about this guy is making me want to shoot him right here and now. I’m struggling to accept that Rocklin even lets this kind of perverse garbage happen on his station. I’m about to let this asshole know what I think of him when he freezes in place, eyes suddenly fixed on something behind me.

  I look back. Yari and Rozik are coming out of the shop. She’s in her new clothes, which I’m surprised to find is a suit like mine and Rozik’s, though it’s made from the aluminum fabric that shimmers in the light. The place must have a shower inside too because her hair is clean and combed and held back by a silver bow. It’s a cute look.

  “Yari?” the guy says, staring at her in a way I don’t like.

  “What the hell are you doing here, Dart?” Yari spits. “I don’t need you following me everywhere I go. I got the chrome. I can take care of myself.”

  “Yari, I…I was just worried about you. The comm…”

  “Doesn’t work when it’s covered up,” she finishes for him. “You never told me that. You told me I couldn’t get away from you, no matter how hard I tried because you can always hear me. Always track me.”

  “You belong to me. I have a contract.”

  “Do you want to know what you can do with your contract?” she says. She’s madder than I am, her voice at the top of her capability. “You don’t own me. I’m a person, not a plaything. It’s over, Dart.”

  “What?” he says, voice suddenly soft. “You... you can’t.”

  “She can,” Rozik says. “How much did you pay for her?”

  Dart stares at Rozik but doesn’t answer.

  “How much, Dart?” Yari hisses.

  “One hundred chrome,” he replies softly.

  “I didn’t hear you,” she says.

  “One hundred chrome!” he shouts.

  The low number freezes Yari in her place better than any physical hit could. Her hands ball into fists, her eyes getting moist.

  Rozik takes out his payment card and enters a number into it. “Yari, give me your hand.” She holds it up to him. He taps the card to it. “Two hundred chrome. Congratulations. You just doubled your investment.”

  “What? N...no. I don’t want your money. She’s mine.” He moves to lunge at her, and I try to get in his way. Only he’s expecting that, and he brings his other hand around with the knife in it, stabbing me in the abdomen.

  The suit can repel bullets. The knife skids right off. I grab his wrist and pull, bringing his face into my waiting fist and cracking him across the jaw. He drops like a rock to his hands and knees.

  “Consider your contract terminated,” Rozik says.

  “I want a divorce,” Yari adds.

  This whole thing is absurd, but I don’t know what else to do but play along like Rozik suggested and act natural. I turn from him, walking away.