Log #221 – A new customer

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Contact with a new customer was not without risk. Success and failure were on a knife’s edge.


ArcCorp, a planet that was completely covered by a city. There was no greenery, only steel and concrete. The epicenter of this monstrosity was Area18, with skyscrapers rising so high into the cloudy sky that little daylight reached the narrow streets. Billboards and holograms shone everywhere. It was shrill and loud. The monumental spherical installation in the center of ArcCorp Plaza gave off more light than the Stanton star. I walked slowly across the central plaza of Area18, looking over my shoulder every now and then.

I was here to meet someone I didn’t know, someone I couldn’t tell if he was dangerous. And I was here to introduce this person to someone who would ask for a dangerous favor in return. And as if that wasn’t enough, there was a dark shadow hovering over everything: Ray Keaton.

It all started a few weeks ago with an ad on the CommRelay marketplace placed by a certain Xine. He was looking for someone who could supply him with an unregistered Stealth Quantum Drive, no questions asked. He offered a very good price. I answered his ad, but then Ray Keaton came into the picture. He warned against doing business with me. Ray Keaton, that vindictive guy who had beaten up my friends and was out to get me too.
Things were getting too hot for me and a personal handover seemed too dangerous. I agreed with Xine to hand over the quantum drive through an intermediary. I hired Dethilion from the PMC TYR. Dethilion was just the man for the job in case Ray got involved. He was just waiting for an opportunity to take Ray on. But the deal went off without a hitch and I was ready for another deal with Xine.

To do that, I had to meet him in person at Area18. I had no idea what to expect, what kind of guy Xine was. Anyone who needed an unregistered stealth drive had something to hide. But was he dangerous? And would he have Ray in tow? I was beginning to doubt whether it was a good idea to come here without backup.

By now I had left the ArcCorp Plaza behind me and reached the G-Loc Bar. It was well frequented. There was a buzz of voices in the air. I pushed my way between the crowded guests at the bar and ordered a beer. I sat down in a corner at the very back. From my seat I had a view of the bar entrance and through the window I could see the City Flight stop. If Ray Keaton turned up, or anyone else who seemed threatening, I could leave in time.

Eventually Xine came into the bar and sat down at the table opposite me. He was a bearded guy with red hair that was shaved short on the sides. His face was angular, almost military in appearance. He was wearing a vest over his shirt, which I assumed was bulletproof. After some small talk, we quickly got down to business.

“So you’re looking for an apartment in Area18, and you don’t want to do it through official channels,” I summarized his request succinctly.

“And you know someone who can help me with that?” he asked curtly.

“Yes, exactly. However, the lady will ask for a favor in return. Stay in the background and let me do the talking.”

“OK. Then let’s hear what the lady wants,” Xine replied.

We left the bar and walked through dark alleys to an old acquaintance of mine, the mistress of ArcCorp’s underworld, Tecia “Twitch” Pacheco.

Twitch was willing to help, but she wanted us to pick up a package that she had lost. And to my surprise, she told me that Xine had been with her before. On the way to the spaceport, I asked Xine about it. But he kept a low profile and didn’t tell me why he was at Twitch. What was the guy hiding? What was his mission?

We set off in Xine’s spaceship, a Drake Cutlass Black called Limping Owl. I reminisced and told him that I also had a Cutlass Black. We got talking and it turned out that Xine was from Levski. The independent place in the Nyx system where I had once lived and which I missed very much. And just like me, Xine was of the opinion that right and wrong was a question of perspective. It always depended on who made the laws. I was starting to like this guy.

After a short flight, we reached the moon Wala. The wreck of the Starfarer was barely visible in the bright grey of the moon’s surface. It was only when the sunlight reflected off the silver hull that we became aware of it. Twitch’s package was located in an angled Starfarer, of all places. An ideal place for an ambush. Ray Keaton, Nine Tails, all sorts of dangers could be lurking there. My nervousness increased.

“Do you have a problem with people shooting?” Xine asked as we walked the last few meters to the wreck.

“Not if I’m at the back in the second row.”

“OK. Then I’ll go first.”

Xine drew his gun and climbed over the broken boom to the upper level of the hold. I followed a few meters behind, my revolver at the ready. It felt much better to be at the back. Not having someone behind me who I still couldn’t assess. We went through the open sheet into the interior of the wreck. Darkness swallowed us up. My pulse began to race.

“Have you ever been in a Starfarer and have any idea where we should look?” Xine asked.

I was about to answer and go ahead when I suddenly jerked back. Was that an attempt to lure me forward so that he could stab me in the back? I answered hesitantly.

“Yes, I was. I think the captain’s quarters is a good place to start the search.”

“Do you want to go ahead, or would you rather stay behind and tell me which way to go?” Xine asked in an absolutely calm tone.

“I’m happy to let you go first. Up ahead on the left and then up the stairs.”

Xine went ahead. We carefully crept up the dark steps to the upper deck. It was dead quiet. Not a creak, not even our footsteps could be heard. At the bottom of the stairs, he turned around and said:

“It would be fine with me if you didn’t point your gun directly in my direction.”

A little embarrassed, I pointed the muzzle of my Coda revolver in a different direction. I got the feeling that my fear of an ambush was unfounded, that Xine was really just trying to make a deal.

After climbing over a few obstacles, we reached the captain’s quarters. It had no windows. The only light came from our helmet lamps. In the circular cone of light, I examined the desk with the recessed terminal. I pressed buttons, stroked the display, but nothing happened. The display was dead. Without power, there was no way to access the information in the digital insiders. We were literally groping in the dark. Then I noticed a small flashing light in one corner.

“A data vault with a self-sufficient power supply. Let’s see if I can hack into it.”

“Then let’s see what you’ve got,” Xine replied.

Kneeling down, I got to work on the box in the dark. It only took a minute, then I said triumphantly:

“I’m in. There’s information about a small gas canister from Twitch. It has a tracking device. I’m activating it.”

“I see the signal,” Xine replied. “One level below us.”

As soon as we reached the lower level, Xine said:

“The signal’s gone. Do you still see it?”

“No, I don’t see it anymore either. It last came from the corner over there. There’s a gas container there. We’ll just take it with us. To be on the safe side, we’ll also take the other gas containers I’ve seen. One of them will be the right one. We can turn the others into money.”

We returned to the Limping Owl with three blue gas containers and flew to the scrapyard on Wala. There we were to deliver Twitch’s cargo. A queasy feeling returned briefly. The scrapyards were a hotspot for smugglers and pirates. There were regular fights. But somehow I felt safe in Xine’s company. The queasy feeling disappeared.

After we had deposited the gas containers in the main building, I discovered a large, abandoned freight container among the piles of scrap metal. It contained SLAM, a very expensive drug. Without thinking twice, I used the tractor beam to maneuver the cargo container through the sliding side door into Xine’s Cutlass. It was precision work. The container barely fit through the opening.

“Wait a minute,” Xine protested. “Are you bringing drugs into my spaceship right now?”

“These aren’t just drugs,” I replied. “It’s a valuable item that you can sell for a lot of money.”

Xine’s skepticism evaporated when he saw how much money he could get for it at the junkyard’s sales terminal.

On the flight back to ArcCorp, we talked about ENOS. Xine had heard about it, but didn’t believe there was anything to the bio-bot story. I tried to convince him, but I didn’t really care. ENOS was closed for me. Then Xine told me that he had an agency that handled tricky jobs without making a big fuss. He was looking for people who wanted to work for him and offered me the chance to become part of his network. I wasn’t quite sure what kind of agency it was and what kind of assignments. Xine explained it to me with an example.

“For example, if the CEO of a company wants to know what his wife is hiding from him and doesn’t want it to go public, my agency will take care of it. If necessary, I use freelance resources.”

“I see,” I replied. “So as a freelancer, I’m happy to take on assignments. Staying under the radar is my specialty. Above all, I can gather information, including hacking. I don’t do combat missions.”

“Very good. I’m glad we can find common ground. I keep agents off the record. When I have a suitable assignment, I’ll get in touch with you. And I’ll transfer some of the money from the drugs to you.”

After we landed in Area18, I said goodbye to Xine. I had a new client. But one that I couldn’t really assess yet. He was from Levski, so he was born free, without the dictates of the UEE. On the other hand, he was glad to be out of Levski and found that this shrill Morloch Area18 was the life. Was Xine a snoot from high society? Someone who secretly helped the powerful to get rid of problems and inconveniences? Then why did he hire people like me? On the other hand, Cäcilia Abendroth was also from high society and surrounded herself with people like Ray and Valentin. Was high society not so high society after all? That suited Stanton, just scum and greed for power. All at the expense of the free peoples.

The next day I got an interesting message.

//Forwarded message from Area18 Apartments to User:Xine
//Message decoded
Dear customer,
Thank you for visiting our apartment in Area18. We apologize for the inconvenience caused during your visit.
We will reimburse you an appropriate amount for the costs and expenses incurred and thus express our appreciation for you as a guest of our hotel.
Please rate us positively and recommend us to others.
Your Area18 customer service

It looked like Xine had gotten the apartment.

Translated with DeepL.com (free version)