Just Getting There...

“Station Aires this is Archos Condit requesting port and docking instructions.”

“Copy Archos, we don't have a scheduled arrival listed, please state vehicle type and send a letter of purpose.”

“Copy Station Aires, we are an Aquapulse G6 Cruiser on the business of pleasure, letter in transit.”

“Copy Aquapulse G6, letter received, your ETA please?”

“Uhh, current distance twelve miles out, ETA five minutes.”

“Pilot Archos Condit of Aquapulse G6 Cruiser you are directed to Port 3, docking station 97, acceptable from three minutes out for a window of five minutes.”

“Copy Station Aires, see you in four, Archos Condit out.”

“Thank you Archos, Station Aires out.”

The cruiser moved swiftly, appearing as weightless over the water as a gull before the catch. It mimicked the coastline and turned sharply into the bay, glinting once before plunging into the shadow of Akron Bluff. Rising from the waters nearest the bluff were spires of black rock, Archos toyed with them, weaving in and out briefly before settling into an approach course. The bay narrowed and he found himself in traffic for the shortest of time. He switched to Autodock and merely observed the process.

“Marek! Hold on to something, it's a dry dock.”

The water-tuned hover-engines of the G6 strained against the solid ground and set the cruiser down with a mighty whump, as though it were a tired bull throwing itself down for a nap. Marek Tornac lost his grip on the front portal latch and smashed his temple into the bulkhead. He swore. Reaching for the med-kit he removed the Coag-Pad and applied it lightly to the gash near his hairline.

“Archos!”

“Yeah?!”

“A little help back here would be nice.” Archos turned in time to see Marek toss the bloody Coag-Pad into the Molecular Disposal Unit.

“I heard you yell, but I didn't know you were bleeding.”

“Yeah, well, I was, now help me fuse this, I can't see it right and you're better at it anyway.” Archos pinched the now dry wound and slowly drew a line across the seam, fusing the flesh instantly.

Marek examined the repair job in the mirror while Archos gathered their bags and opened the port. “Oh, smell the fresh.” he said to himself. They stepped off the G6 and onto the dock.

“Please move yourself and your belongings inside the yellow circle for a security scan, Station Aires and Marisabel care about your safety.”

“Ready and waiting.” Archos said, for they were already huddled within the painted yellow ring.

“Thank you for your cooperation. We hope you enjoy your stay in Marisabel.”

The foot traffic at Port 3 was light and the remainder of the space was occupied by conveyors and hover-lifts. They passed a hover-lift that looked nearly full and inquired of its' destination.

“Center of town, but I'm only half full right now, I'd give ya a lift if I could.”

“Oh. Well we were headed to Oceanwalk anyway...” Archos trailed off as he was interrupted.

“Sam'll take ya, Sam Whilt, station 37. Say Torrin sent ya, it'll save ya some cash.”

Marek lobbed a “Thank you.” over his shoulder as he lengthened his stride to catch up with Archos who'd already turned the corner toward station 37.

Docking station 37 was crammed in a back corner of Port 3, and looked as though the architect had added it as an afterthought. There was no sign of life in the poorly lit station. Archos stepped into the dusk and called out “Sam!?” Silence followed. Archos crossed from the dock to the ship. It was a medium sized air freighter, and it was covered in dry mud. He was halfway around the perimeter of the ship, looking for someone, anyone really, when he noticed a foot protruding from a portal. It hung limp and was bluish purple in color. Unable to see into the darkness beyond, he calculated the interior location of the door, walked back around to the main port, and let himself in. Marek followed, they crept through the freighter as quietly as possible. Boxes littered the central corridor, looking half stacked – half strewn. Archos opened the door that was his first guess and found that it was correct.

The room was lit only by the portal and the shaft of light that it admitted. It shone on a pile of belongings and it was immediately apparent to Archos that these were living quarters. He looked at the blue foot in the portal and followed the leg down to the limp form it was attached to. It lie face down in a hammock. It was a man and his right arm dangled from the hammock, grazing the floor. The fingers of his hand were loosely wrapped around a gun...