The Huragian space docks were clean, workable, and abandoned. From Montar's description and what I'd read in the Rimont station 'pedia, I'd expected workers, port authority, maybe even Trade Inspectors.

  Instead, there were locked-down cranes, their grav-hooks unpowered and mothballed in non-conductive bags the size of small shuttles. Even the ventilation was low, the area cold, moisture beading and running down the white-painted walls near every entrance.

  "Where is everyone?" I said.

  "Don't know," Hao said, craning her neck, as if that would unearth hidden hordes of people.

  But the only hordes were the Kylians climbing out of the broken sludge pipe, trailing brown, slimy tracks over the fresh-painted dock floor.

  "Better this way," I said, mostly for show. Things felt wrong. "No one to contest our coming. Let's go dump Montar's junk in the correct recycling vat and get us a ship."

  Hao shifted the now thoroughly soiled bag and started walking.

  "Hey," I yelled, "where are you going?"

  "To fulfill a quest, gain a ship, and save the dragon," Hao called back.

  I hurried to catch up with her.

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  "How'd you know where to go?" I said.

  She raised one bushy eyebrow.

  "Map, remember?" she said.

  I jogged along behind her for a moment.

  "Nobody likes a wise guy," I said.

  "But everybody likes a wise gal," Hao replied and laughed. I shut up. She had a nice laugh.

  The vat was protected by a simple steel cover, locked, but thirty seconds with Hao's tool belt solved that problem. She withdrew the map, then upended the bag over the hole.

  Guns, tools, and coms disappeared into the sludge with mighty splashes, splattering all the way to the dock floor. I no longer cared. I'd walked in the disgusting stuff.

  "Let's call our friend Montar and get our access codes," I said.

  "Just don't think of her as our friend. Might give people the wrong impression."

  "Hey," I said. "In comparison to most people here, Montar is absolutely charming."

  "You're just impressed by her hair," Hao replied. "Now call so we can find your mythical swimming pool and get clean. Sir."

  I ignored her lip and called. Montar answered on the first connection blink. Either she'd been waiting with her hand on the com, or she had eyes in the docks. I'd bet on the second. She didn’t look surprised.

  "We're done," I said by way of greeting. "The codes?"

  Montar tapped something out of camera range, and inhaled from her stick. She blew a cloud of smoke.

  "What are you waiting for?" I said. "We're done."

  "Patience, bullhorn, patience. He who waits, profits."

  "Waits for what?" I tried and failed to sound calm. Something bubbled violently in the sludge where we'd dropped her junk.

  "That," Montar said. "Delivery confirmed." She tapped something, again off camera. Sets of access code encryption packets appeared on my com.

  "You have twelve minutes to get clear," she said.

  "What?" I yelled. "That wasn't in our deal!"

  Montar shrugged.

  "I don't control the secs. They're Huragian's pets. Apparently they don't like you invading their docks."

  "Crud," I said.

  Montar disconnected. I started running back to where the Kylians were still exiting the pipe.