“Station’s always bustling this time of year,” Isolde said aloud. She stared at the bright halo steadily coming into view, red and blues ship signals pulsing amidst the general yellows reserved for human activity.
The speakers let out a noise something like a human clearing their throat. “You grew up here.”
“It’s creepy when you access my records.” She twisted her lips and kept staring out the viewport. “But yes.”
Greaves let out an “mmm” sound. “Is there not a human saying about one not being able to transit homeward again?”
“I suppose,” she murmured. “But I know where the best deals are to be had on Appelini Port, and who won’t rip me off. Salvage depends on relationships.”
Her ship demurred. “Not exactly. Only profit.”
“Profit that keeps you fueled and me fed.” She put a hand on the controls. Static hissed in, louder as the port came into view. Snippets of words from crosstalk burst into auditory awareness on occasion, but mostly she ignored it, watching for the trainee drivers she knew would burst onto her alert screens with little warning.
“You haven’t been here in a while,” Greaves interrupted again.
“So?”
“Do you still know who’s trustworthy?”
She glared at the speaker above her head. “Shut up.” The ship passed the inner boundary, bright white blinking three times in a repetitive pattern. “Port control, this is the Monster, previously known as the Rat-Runner.“
“Welcome home, Izz,” a vaguely familiar voice crackled. “Bay zero-five-five, triple blue path. Watch for port control to guide you in.”
She jerked upright in her chair. Who still knew her well enough to welcome her back from several months away? Izz had avoided the station until harvest festival, when she – and her illegal ship – could blend in better. Ten minutes later, she was docked and still lacked an answer.
“Be good,” she muttered, and headed for the ramp. Yolanda’s noodles were calling her name, and so was a fizzball drink.
“Be careful,” Greaves warned, its tone serious for once. “Beware getting too comfortable.”
“Just don’t get me in trouble.” She shrugged on her jacket and slapped the button to release the lift.
Three drinks later, her noodles were tucked away inside her stomach and Izz was feeling the happiest she’d been in months. Appelini Port might not be home anymore, but there was confidence in striding down the maze of twisted paths, in recognizing why the third board from the left of Yolanda’s stall had a chunk at the bottom missing.
“Hear you found treasure,” that too-familiar voice whispered into her right ear.
She jostled her drink and licked blue liquor off her hand in protest at the interruption. “Did not.”
“What’s all that you posted on PortList, then?” A hand caressed her shoulder.
“Not treasure, just salvage.” She reached over the edge of the bar and borrowed Yolanda’s towel to pat dry the liquid before it sizzled into the table, covering her flinch by shrugging off that too-familiar intrusion. “A few lucky finds. I’ve gotten to the things the top players in the collection biz don’t want. That’s all.”
Her heartbeat thumped in her ears, and she hoped Xan hadn’t installed tech to hear it, or notice the tremor in her hands as she cleaned. Of all people…!
Atop the bar, her comm unit buzzed, and she picked it up gratefully. “Izz here.”
“Isolde Jaldana? This is port control.”
Her stomach clenched automatically. “How can I help you?”
“Bit of an odd situation, but we’ve reports of your ship, er…hitting on the other ships.”
“Must be an aberration,” Izz said, damning Greaves’ timing. It had barely been two hours, and the sentient was about to give itself away.
The anonymous, official voice let out a bit of a laugh. “I listened to a bit of the tape. Sounds like a joke program gone wrong.”
She blinked, and it took her a moment to answer. “It, er, does get lonely out in space.”
“Well, we’d like you to come back and check your AI module for malware, all right? A reboot’s in order.”
“Thanks,” Izz said, and flashed an overly apologetic smile at Xan as she ended the call. “Gotta run, I’m afraid.”
“See you around, Izz.” He traced a wide hand down her face.
The sinking feeling in her chest didn’t vanish as she veered her way through the warren back to the dock. Seeing Ian again was exactly what she was afraid of.
***
This week’s prompt about a bustling space station came from Becky Jones. Mine went to Leigh Kimmel, who will explore the land o’ Faerie. Check out MOTE here!
