The rain fell gently on the polished streets of one of Celhesru’s loveliest and most refined metropolises. Located on a temperate continent in the southern hemisphere, Cinnfoara, like many Iolite cities was outwardly devoted to the arts, sciences, and aesthetic experience above all else. Its only spaceports were for private and commercial travelers. Heavy industry and the logistics surrounding interplanetary commerce were relegated to their own regions, and the infrastructure moving goods and raw materials existed almost entirely underground. The open air was strictly for more elegant means of conveyance.
On one of these sleek and comfortable trains sat the latest problematic addition to Iolite society. After their discreet landing (and the purchase of a set of clothes that weren’t Greg’s) Sohrab and Nash parted ways. He insisted she keep his arrival a secret for the time being, and that he’d be back soon, the night of her party to be exact. In the meantime, he took his seat in the modern passenger coach and watched the foggy landscape slip by from atop the elevated rails, set perhaps higher above the ground than they needed to be. He was bound for Laronting, one of the aforementioned industrial zones up north where he insisted he had some business to attend to. When pressed, he assured Nash he had it all figured out, though it made no logical sense to her at the time. Nevertheless, she wished him well and urged him not to stay gone too long. Her limited understanding of the less attractive cities and the resultant assumption that they were less safe played no small role in her apprehension over letting him leave.
In truth, Sohrab had no business to attend to, not yet at least. While off-world he’d had less opportunity to think than he imagined, and presently he found the pressure mounting to find something to do. With nowhere to stay, no prospect of employment, and very little money, his plan in Laronting had no other option but to succeed. The last thing he needed was to become further indebted to the ones who had twice inconvenienced themselves to ferry him across the galaxy. Something about his recent experiences had put him off of relying on the hospitality of others. And there was nothing that sickened him more than being the object of someone else’s charity or pity. He'd spent his whole life being felt sorry for, and that was about to end. Today.
The rain faded to a faint drizzle by the time he disembarked in the new city. A dense haze hung low enough to obscure the tops of the buildings, not that it would have been much of a view. He made his way down misty streets to the edge of the sea. Shipping over water was still a perfectly viable method of moving things around the planet, even in this day and age, due largely in part to the desire of the general public to keep the skies clear. The whole scale of the zone cutely named ‘the docks’ was massive. Cargo ships of irresponsible size slipped into the facility’s entrance channels where they parked themselves with half-inch accuracy in the loading bays. Automated cranes stretched high into the sky and moved thousands of containers per minute between the boats and trains. Conveniently, the port had been built into a hillside, so the trains could disappear beneath the ground as quickly as they were loaded, so as not to sully the serene landscape with unaesthetic freight.
Sohrab was sure he could have found freelance work in shipping and receiving in the sub-surface distribution centers located beneath any finer city than this. But it wasn’t the small numbers he was after. He needed to be at a big port like Laronting to meet the real captains of industry. All across civilized, commercial space, shipping and receiving work was subservient to the bigger business of Import/Export. They sounded similar to the casual observer, and as observers go, Sohrab couldn’t have been more casual. Thankfully it didn’t take him long to find his mark. Sometimes it was better to be lucky than good.
On a narrow street not far from the docks, two Iolite men of middling age were having a discussion. Whispered threats and responses of increasing intensity forced the conversation out of the public eye and into a dimly lit bar nearby. These two were usually more observant. Their profession all but demanded it. Yet now, in the heat of their mounting disagreement, they were blind to the threat just around the corner. A few yards away, Sohrab pretended to read the holographic displays on a digital information kiosk, while he eavesdropped on the men’s conversation. He hadn’t imagined he’d get so fortunate this early. The one nail in his coffin was his appearance. Even on a world as diverse and well-visited as Celhesru he was an odd sight, but he didn’t care. He raked his long white fingers through his longer white hair and followed the men at a distance.
Inside the establishment, fluorescent lights flickered against silvery, sparse walls. A vague sort of music was being piped in from somewhere. It was jazzy and whispered of the distant elegance of a world not past or future, but diagonal in time; artificial and unmistakably derivative. There was something almost comfortable about the general sense of discomfort in this place. After a young life spent in the cultivated ambiance and artistry of Cinnfoara, it was nice to see something so authentically unsavory for a change.
Sohrab stayed close to the door at the bar counter and looked straight ahead as he attempted to hear more. The men sat in a booth near the back, and after trying to rein in the volume of their debate they were failing once again. The conversation was tense, interrupted only briefly when a waiter set their drinks on the table, at which point silence through gritted teeth befell them but for a moment. Now would have been an ideal time for them to set aside their differences and notice the strange individual who’d wandered in after them. At the counter, their spy ordered the only drink he could afford, though he wasn’t concerned. He knew the rest would be free.
“He’s lying to you,” said the pale interloper, materializing out of nowhere in front of the contentious table. In truth, he didn’t materialize. He walked over when they were distracted and forced the courage to talk before they could fully clock his presence. Sohrab looked at the man on the right, the one he had addressed, and continued despite the hostile incredulity dripping off of both of them. “You’ve known it for some time, haven’t you? But you weren’t sure you could prove it.”
“Now just wait a minute, who do you think –” The man on the left started.
“You’ve been stealing from him for years, Alconar.” Sohrab interrupted. “Don’t pretend no one was ever going to call you on it.” His eyes narrowed in a display of assertion, while he silently choked back fear. He knew the threats of violence were imminent, and not the least bit hollow. The man Sohrab accused gave a knowing look to his partner and produced a weapon of dubious legality under the table. He pointed it discreetly at the unwelcome visitor.
“Hang on,” the man on the right said, extending a hand in an attempt to ease the tension. “What’s he talking about?”
“Max, come on, it’s nothing!” Said the man on the left, visibly sweating in spite of the chill in the air. “This guy clearly isn’t from around here, and he just comes in saying anything? He’s crazy, forget him.”
“Max, that’s your name, right? Listen to me very carefully…” Sohrab began again. Alconar, the indicted, braced himself against the table and tightened his grip on the very thing needed to end this interrogation. “…I can take you to the storage locker where he keeps his cut of your shipments.”
“What’s he talking about, Al?” Threatened Max.
“I told you; it’s nothing! Why should you trust him!?” Alconar pulled Sohrab into the booth beside him and dug the gun into his ribcage, muscle memory by now. At this juncture, the waiter reappeared almost too predictably, as if he knew greater drama ensured a greater payout. Max wordlessly ordered another round, with one for their new friend too, intending to dismiss the employee as quickly as possible while keeping it all together.
“Now listen to me, both of you.” Max said, looking between Alconar and Sohrab. “After this drink comes, I pay out, and we all act civil, understood?”
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“You got it, chief.” Said Alconar, jabbing the end of the pistol a little further into the intruder’s side. Sohrab winced a little, but never took his focus off of Max. In those brown eyes, Max saw an urging, a hint of truth he wanted desperately to believe. This miracle out of the mist could be exactly what he needed to justify his own discrepancies to a boss bigger than himself.
#
Behind the clouds, the brighter night was setting in, leaving the overcast sky only slightly darker than it had been during the day. Through an increasingly tangled and drab landscape passed the three uneasy men, led by the one who had nothing to lose and everything to gain. Sohrab knew he walked with the threat of death at his back, and that it would be more than worth it if the gamble paid off. Still though, he was having a hard time interpreting the directions as they appeared, and he knew by now they hadn’t taken the most efficient route. He felt a bead or two of sweat run down the back of his neck, another consequence of having an unreasonable amount of hair. And yet, he remained outwardly calm, assuming the circuitous path to the destination would only serve to confound the pair further.
The walk took longer than it needed, especially for Alconar, who with greater urgency, minute by minute, attempted to dissuade his superior from continuing this quest. But Max didn’t waver. Each plea from Al was met with a terse command to “shut up and keep moving.” Though the fire may have been lit a while ago, this stranger from the bar was practically pouring gasoline on it. Al knew that, and he was desperate. As the streets they passed through became more familiar, he felt the moment of reckoning soon at hand, as if he were caught standing on a beach as all the water rushed away, staring dumbly at the debris left behind just before the tidal wave rolled through.
Just then, they turned a corner into a small lot reminiscent of a junkyard. Across the street was a well-lit, if not a little worse-for-wear service station. It wasn’t as busy as it could have been, but it was staffed and patronized, nonetheless. “Good.” Thought Sohrab. “There’ll be witnesses.” This was what he told himself in his conscious mind, but on an even deeper level he knew not a soul around here was stupid enough to snitch on guys like these. No one would see what happened, and no one would see him die. Weeks would pass and he’d never appear at Nash’s party. The thought ate at him. He wanted nothing less than to cease to exist without even a whisper, without even a memory or a hint of where he’d gone.
They passed by haphazard piles of broken machinery and garbage of all sorts. This place had been abandoned a long time ago, or at least that was the impression it gave. At the back of the lot were four closed garage doors. Sohrab stopped in front of them, equidistant from each, and turned around to face the men. “Should I tell him, or will you?” he asked Alconar, piercing the space between his eyes with a cold and hostile gaze. He saw clearly the fear in the man he was extorting. It gave him pause. People in the grip of fear could do reckless things. This notion proved to be true when instead of answering the question, Al closed the distance between himself and the intruder, and punched him square in the jaw.
“I’ve had just about enough of you!” Al shouted, as his victim stumbled backwards. This was true, he’d had just about enough, but there was more. Sohrab was in the process of regaining his footing when his attacker grabbed him by the collar and forced him to stand as he shoved the pistol in his face. “You want I should just end this guy now?” Al’s voice nearly cracked. “How much more of this are you buying? We don’t even know him!”
Throughout the altercation Max remained stone-faced. One the one hand, a stranger, a foreigner, appearing out of nowhere and telling him everything he already suspected was simply too good to be true. There had to be a catch, always was. But on the other hand, Al’s accounts hadn’t added up for a long time, and this was a move Max would have had to make sooner or later. He was ashamed to admit to himself that he already had a story prepared for whenever that day came. Perhaps today was as good as any. He looked his associate in the eye and ignored his desperate plea. Weakness sickened him. Instead, he turned his attention to the battered face of the man being threatened. “It’s the door on your far left.” Sohrab said. This admission was not without reward. Al flung him to the ground and kicked him in the ribs. This time, Sohrab didn’t try to get up as quickly.
“Please,” Alconar begged. His voice really broke this time. “There’s nothing behind that door, I swear it!”
“Open it,” said Max.
“But boss…”
“Open it, before I blow your head off!” Max threatened, brandishing his own weapon. Al hesitated just a bit longer, his chest tightened, and his eyes burned. He knew his fate was sealed. Now it was only a matter of how merciful Max would be to his family. His kids were grown, but just barely. And he knew good and well his helpless little wife wouldn’t get by without him. Al’s temporary concern for his own was replaced by rage and confoundment when he saw the one whose fault this was. Somewhere in the murky, damp junk beyond his boss, he saw that fiend, that white piece of trash pull himself halfway up from the dirty puddle on the ground. His face was darkened by bruises, and he clutched the side of his chest where the foot landed, yet Sohrab seemed unbothered. In his eyes was not panic or even hatred, but a cool acceptance of the events he’d set in motion.
All of this stalling and pondering came to an end when Alconar heard Max pull back the hammer of the gun. He breathed a heavy sigh and opened the storage unit door. The sight within was a far cry from the disheveled lot without. Automatic lights, climate control, and a digital inventory display panel on a side wall indicating exactly how many imported goods Al had withheld from his boss appeared before them. The contents inside represented a fine selection of luxury retail products: designer fashions, leather, furs, jewelry, and even art, all destined for a secret higher markup somewhere else.
“You know what this means, don’t you, Al?” Max said.
“It doesn’t have to mean that, boss!” Al pleaded, practically blubbering and weeping at this point. “It was just a little mistake!”
“Looks like a lot more than a little to me, buddy!” Max yelled, gesturing towards the stolen goods. The light from the storage unit was near blinding in the foggy night. “Do you have any idea how much heat I’ve had to take from Don Shalimar over stuff like this!? If only I’d known sooner.”
“Look, Max. Haven’t I been good to you? Don’t we all skim a little off the top every now and then?” Alconar begged.
“Now and then? Let me tell you about now and then. NOW you are going to disappear. Forever. You have four hours to leave this planet and THEN if I ever see you again on Celhesru, especially here in Laronting, that’s it. Understand?” Max dismissed Al. “Now and then, talking about now and then, how about I take out the trash every now and then? You still standing here? Get out of my sight! And leave the gun.”
Alconar flung his pistol to the ground and lowered his head, nearly stumbling over the junk in the lot as he scurried into the night without another word. The silence left in his wake was palpable, punctuated only by an infrequent drop of rain and the gentle hum of the storage unit lights. Across the street the patrons of the service station briefly stopped their conversation as the suspicious man ran by, but it didn’t take them long to resume minding their own business.
With all the caution he could muster, Sohrab dragged himself to his feet, suppressing any expression of pain in the presence of the man who now held his future in his hands. “Why did you show him mercy?” He rasped, still straining to breathe
“I don’t know how you know what you do…” Max said as he closed the door, bathing the lot in darkness once more. “But what you don’t know, is that guy gave me ten years of faithful service. So, in spite of his… unscrupulousness, I still can’t forget that he was one of my best for a long time. You know what they say, everybody gets one.” He picked up his former associate’s gun off the ground and placed it inside the pocket of his coat, before turning to face the next problem, the newest and the best friend he never wanted. “You asked why I showed him mercy, but you better start explaining yourself real fast if you expect any of the same.”
“I never intended to leave you in the dark,” said Sohrab, stifling a cough. “And I promise, soon you’ll understand why I’m worth at least ten of him.” His head was throbbing, he tasted a hint of blood in his mouth, and his vision began to blur, but he knew he could do this. Max didn’t need the whole ocean, just the wavetops. One could imagine there was enough to drown in.
“You were right to notice I’m not from here. I wasn’t born here, though I grew up on Celhesru, in a city near enough to Laronting to know of its… significance. That’s what brought me to this enviable location. You see, I have an ability no one of this world has. Where I’m from, we can all do it, it’s our whole way of life and of being. But on this planet, and on any other you can travel to, I’m the only one. You wouldn’t find the rest of my kind if you tried, as we don’t officially exist, so for now you and only you have the exclusive opportunity to enlist the services of the first and only telepath you’ll ever meet. Lament no more your own inability to read minds, because I can.”
