Between Darkness and the Void - Part Two
09 Nov 2017User1355
Citi Gateway
Inara system...
Heat-vanes hiss in the thin atmosphere of the docking bay as I release them from silent-running and lower Freyja’s landing gear, bringing her down in a swift but gentle landing. The journey here has been mercifully uneventful, but I take no chances with these final moments.
The headquarters of the Inara Nexus cooperative runs a strict policy of neutrality, coupled with an absence of extradition treaties with any other authority. Phisto believes that it will make for a good safehouse to lie low and reconsolidate; I trust his judgement.
He’s waiting for me as I descend Freyja’s ramp, looking over the ship with a smug grin.
“She sure is a piece of shit, ain’t she?”
I draw myself up in front of him, almost meeting him eye-to-eye, my lips in a pout.
“This ship has gotten me out of more scrapes than…”
“She’s not going to get you out of many more,” he interrupts, grimacing at a badly corroded stabiliser on the port wing.
My glare tells him that he’ll have more than a stabiliser to worry about if he carries on.
He smiles again and raises his hands submissively, “We’ll get her fixed up. I have good people over at the Fusilier’s workshops. But first, get yourself fixed up,” he tosses me a keycard, “and meet me for dinner. We have a lot to talk about.”
The apartment is a miserable step-down from my former penthouse at Clair Dock, but it’s safe and discreet, with a window overlooking the main concourse. A simple double-bed, lounger and holo-unit make up the main room, with a small kitchen and bathroom off a narrow passageway. At least the cramped shower unit had hot water, and gave much relief after the long journey from the Pegasi Sector.
Idris stands still and silent, watching the comings and goings of passersby with unrelenting diligence, whilst Apollonia sits on the bed, pulling a comb through my wet hair. I stare at the data-disks recovered from Morgana’s tomb, turning them over and over in my hands, mulling over what dark secrets they contain.
“I have never even seen disks like those, cherie,” murmurs Apollonia, “whatever recorded them and plays them must be centuries old.”
“The Void will show us the way. It always does,” I reply.
“They are probably one of those formats that become obsolete, cherie. Do you remember Tabamex? You can only find them in junkyards now.”
Phisto’s grimacing face, looking up at the corroded stabiliser, drifts into my mind.
I turn around to face Apollonia, taking her delicate chin in my hand with a smile. Her terrified eyes widen as I lean into her, kissing her deeply.
“Syfon Merro,” I breathe heavily, breaking away from her soft lips.
“Cherie?” stammers the confused fool.
“Syfon Merro’s a junkyard dealer. He used to sell me spare parts for Freyja, including the stabiliser that smug bastard was so concerned about. The shit he used to have in that place…”
I gaze past Apollonia’s face, seeing row upon row of Merro’s stores, a treasure trove of hardware from all over the Bubble, going back centuries…
“If anyone has a device for these disks, it’ll be him,” I nod confidently.
Apollonia smiles, clasping her hands together. “Then we must find him, non?”
My eyes lock back onto hers as I stand. “Not we, cariad. You.”
“You would trust me for such an important task?” Her hands move over her mouth, her eyes welling as she looks up at me. “Oh cherie!”
“Take one of these to him,” I instruct her, pulling out one the thin cased disks from the bundle. “And tell him I sent you. Merro and I go back a long way. I trust that he’ll put me before any of Deggie’s goons.”
With boundless enthusiasm, the waif jumps up and begins to dress. “Where will I find him?”
I flash her a dark grin as I toss her duffel bag onto the bed.
“Clair Dock.”