The dark air smelled of tobacco, cheap alcohol, and lost dreams. Most of the drinkers in the bar looked like down-on-their-luck crewmen, available for any sort of berth they could find. The waitresses took drink orders but not much else, leading to muffled guffaws from the friends of a spacer getting shot down by the girl refilling their glasses. What little lighting they actually used in the bar flickered from time to time, as this level of the station didn’t get a lot of attention from the Engineering department.
Really, not much did. Casiella had docked up deep in the Great Wildlands, at the Thukker Mix Factory in M-MD3B. Nobody had any security out here besides friends, and as often as not that came out to no security at all.
She draped her jacket over the back of her chair and spun another one around to prop up her feet. A heavily tattooed waitress came by the table but didn’t give the boots in the seat so much as a second glance. “What’ll it be.” In most places, that would sound like a question. Not here, though.
“Beer. Whatever you got.” Casiella hadn’t spent any time out here in null-sec before, but this dive looked, felt, and tasted just like a hundred other joints she’d visited in low-sec, only more so. She watched for a moment as the girl walked away.
A rumbling voice spoke from behind her. “Nice, right?”
Casiella twisted slightly around to get a better glimpse of the spacer who’d decided he wanted to chat. “Can’t see anything else in this place, that’s all.”
He grunted. “Guess that much is true. Name’s Gannur.” He pulled up a chair and sat down without bothering to ask.
She didn’t bother to complain. No point in it, anyway. “Casi.”
He studied her closely. She’d intentionally dressed down, as it wouldn’t pay to look too prosperous in a place like this, where some of these folks wouldn’t see in their whole lives as much money as she’d make in one trade back in Heimatar. A gray work shirt, dark olive cargo pants, black leather boots and jacket. Hair short, like always. Still, she couldn’t conceal some things anymore, and he noticed. “Don’t see a lot of folks come through here with that much enhancement.”
Figuring she’d do better playing it off, she just said, “Rebuild after an accident, that’s all.”
His laugh sounded like a cranky afterburner firing up. “Most rebuilds don’t include Poteque Pharm hardware, sweetie.”
She raised one eyebrow, not expecting anyone in this place to actually recognize any of her hardware. “Been out to the Federation?”
Gannur shook his head. “You might just say I’m in the business.”
She tilted her head to the side and looked at the man more closely. He wore some sort of dingy-blue jumpsuit, wore his reddish hair a bit long, and had the face of a man who wanted you to trust him. That definitely meant that she didn’t. “Cybernetics?”
He smiled, a little off-center. “I deal in them.” A quick wink. “Don’t get any ideas, the owner’s a friend of mine. This place has security, even if it doesn’t look like it.”
Casi spread her hands wide. “I’d never think of it.” A lie, of course. “Wouldn’t pay to get in a fight with a potential business partner.” Another lie.
This drew a brief nod of acknowledgment. “But I only handle the local trading, here on the station. Few pilots have shown interest in the risks that the Great Wildlands present.”
She kept her right hand on the table and slowly reached back into her jacket, then withdrew a small data chip. “My private key and comm-code. I will launch for Heimatar soon, maybe I can bring back a shipment…”
Gannur accepted the chip and pocketed it away in his jumpsuit. “Indeed, I do believe we can find a way to work together if you do.”
Just then, the serving girl appeared with Casiella’s drink and set it down. She eyed Gannur suspiciously. “I’ll be right back with that tab of yours, Gann. I got yelled at last night for letting you extend it again.”
As soon as she turned her back, he smiled apologetically, stood, and disappeared into the haze and shadows.
Casi just smirked, shook her head, and took a swig.
Photo credit Lyot via Flickr
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