Runnin' Hot: Ship'r Chronicles, #2

By H. L. Wigton

The ship'r community has had it up to their collective eyeballs. Coalition trackers were bad enough. Now there's a new infestation, one decidedly more dangerous; infinitely small, infinitely dense gravity pockets are suddenly cluttering mapped space, origin unknown, existence categorically unwelcome. Popping into existence with terrifying unpredictability, they're turning the lanes and the in-system regions into a dangerous game of dodge-'em and wreck-'em. To top it off, perfectly sane and (mostly) sober ship'rs are starting to see things out of the corners of their eyes while alone in their rigs. That presumably one-off encounter with an alien sentiency seemed to have kicked off a cascade of unexplainable weirdness, and everyone is starting to get a bad feeling that nothing will ever be the same again.

Join Ship'r Bax and her hitchhiker Daniel as they navigate this strange new reality they find themselves in, where spectral rats dart into corners, people keep popping in and out of existence, and hauling cargo isn't as simple or clear cut as it should be. Now if they can just avoid blowing themselves up or falling into a singularity, that would be just fine. Whatever's watching them in transit will have to take a number, unless it would like to lend a hand in cleaning up the mess or take a turn dealing with those infuriatingly persistent cultists they keep tripping over.

• Language: English
• Publisher: H. L. Wigton
• Release date: Dec 18, 2023
• ISBN: 9798223880035

H. L. Wigton

If you were to look for me, you would find me hovering on the edges, where the sand turns to surf, the forest to meadow, and the madding crowd grows sparse and scattered. Turn your head fast enough, and you may see my shadow slipping around a corner. If you wish to lure me out, leave a stack of books, preferably of theoretical physics, at my last known location. I will slink through the door to fetch them, and offering of coffee, hot and black, will snare me faster than any bear trap. The promise of a long road trip, where we barely leave the highway, will have me lingering, intrigued and agonizing over routes, day vs. night travel, and if I'll scare you too badly with my cruising speeds. Don't expect much conversation, but be assured that my playlists are top-shelf, as is my audio soundstage. Let's roll.

Book preview

CHAPTER 1: BAX

Repair station Baramon wasn’t the height of luxury, or even middling average when it came to amenities, but it had the only two things Bax cared about; the best repair docks in the quadrant, and a bar. The first was to address the crack in Calypso’s whiptail, the result of an unfortunate intersection of speed and questionable Coalition practices. The second was to stir up trouble against the very organization that had landed her here in the first place. Her intent wasn’t purely malicious, no matter her feelings about the Coalition at large. It was simply business. Bad business. The Coalition had overstepped into territory they’d never been truly welcome in, hurling themselves bodily across that thin line of propriety and tolerance separating the ship’r community and the Coalition’s vast bureaucracy, and she was bound and determined every ship’r knew about it.

But she had to be careful about how she went about letting this particular cat out of its bag; if word got around she was the origin of the information, it might put her brother in Coalition crosshairs. Their relationship might be strained, but she didn’t want his career torpedoed because of what he’d let slip in a moment of anger. A well-placed word or two in the right ear did far more than chatting up every cargo jockey within earshot ever would, and once started, the rumor mill had taken on a life of its own, growing well beyond her reach. When ship’rs got their teeth into a particularly juicy nugget, information got passed along at an exponential rate—even outpacing transit at times, the laws of physics be damned. She’d counted on that, and it hadn’t let her down.

What she was spreading wasn’t good news, which pushed it along even faster, carrying with it a growing bow wave of hostility. Every last one of them either had, or was about to have, tattle-tales planted on them by the Coalition —devices that recorded everything you did, where you did it, how you did it, and who you did it with—and there wasn’t a ship’r out there that would welcome the intrusion. Snooping around during an inspection was one thing. Having the minutia of your daily life logged and downloaded was a sweeping overreach no ship’r would take with any amount of grace. Her whisper campaign against the Coalition was finding fertile ground with her fellow ship’rs, most of whom had landed here broken down, confused as to why, and distinctly out of sorts. Everyone seemed to have taken some kind of damage recently, ranging from simple blown fuses to navigational arrays melted to slag, courtesy of the brief (and hopefully last) encounter with a sentiency that had made a mess of transit. That had primed the pump on a goodly amount of anger once her news started spreading. The usual grumblings about fines, fees, and restrictive protocols had swelled into rumblings of a more serious manner, taking morale and moods down with it.

As it turned out, she had plenty of time on her hands to both stir up her fellow ship’rs and to stew about the reasons she was here in the first place. The repairs to her own rig had taken longer than expected, the days stretching to weeks as repair crews hustled from one rig to another, short-handed and short-tempered with the influx of rigs coming in from all over the quadrant. The downtime pinched, but having used it to foster a goodly amount of ill-will towards the Coalition, she considered it time well spent. There was no need for her to nudge it along at this point, except for one particular contact she wanted to speak to in person who was proving strangely elusive. She entertained herself the best she could while she waited for them to surface.

LOCKING EYES WITH THE wiry man across the table, she braced her elbow firmly on its sticky surface and held her hand out, ignoring the roaring, jostling crowd that had gathered around them. He cocked an eyebrow at her, taunting, as one corner of his mouth turned up at her next words.

You sure you’re up to this level of public humiliation, Marsh?

The words had barely left her mouth before a large, boney hand wrapped around hers, crushing down in a powerful grip that had her quickly reevaluating his potential. He might claim a limp wrist, but the sinewy cords of muscle standing out on his forearm belied that claim. She should’ve seen this coming, with how eager he’d been to test her again.

Flatlander—known as Marsh portside, where you used your real name once off your rig—gave her a sly look under a lowered brow, a wide, wicked grin crinkling the tanned skin around his sapphire eyes. "Oh, honey, he said. I’ve been publicly humiliated by better than you before you were even a twitch in your sire’s trousers. Make me work for this one, darlin’."

Daniel stepped forward, placing a hand atop their clenched fists, looking distinctly uncomfortable at being the center of so much attention, and raised his voice to be heard over the crowd. No bracing with left hands, at least one foot on the ground at all times, and no biting. Ready...? He made eye contact with each of them as the crowd hushed. She nodded shortly.

Go. He released their hands and stepped away, melting back into the rough-looking crowd.

At the word ‘go’, she flexed her arm and answered Marsh’s crushing grip with one of her own, but holding back a bit, not wanting to exert herself too early in a needless display of strength. His grip slackened briefly in surprise as the bones in his hands ground together, eyes widening in what she gleefully hoped was regret. The small round table wobbled as he shifted position, trying to bring his shoulder into play as she held his arm steady, neither giving or advancing. She felt the wiry strength in his grip, impressive given his decidedly smaller frame, and tested it, pressing into his resistance. He gave, but not as much as she expected, which earned him a raised eyebrow.

Not so bad for a squirrely runt, eh? he panted.

The crowd almost drowned him out, swelling and ebbing with each small movement of their hands in either direction. He swiped back the veil of salt and pepper curls that had fallen into his eyes with his other hand, sweat starting to bead out on his forehead. He wasn’t losing, but she was making him work for the neutral ground he was holding.

Her shoulder was starting to protest the prolonged effort, a slight yet deep burn that told her to get after it now or pay the price. Baring her teeth, she pushed against his grip slowly, a brutal effort that had sweat popping out and running down her temples. He stopped her halfway down, but with an effort that ran veins out on his neck and crawled a flush up his face.

Not so bad at all, given allowances, she grunted. Ain’t too late, Marsh. Squeal your safe word and I’ll let you down easy.

Her bicep was starting to add its protestations now as well, and she could feel a fine tremor in her shoulder that warned her of consequences to be paid later. She’d better end this, and soon. She tucked her chin to her chest, waiting for him to slip up, braid slithering over her shoulder in a fall of honeyed bronze.

Don’t...do...safe...words, he wheezed. Go...fuck... He abruptly twisted his wrist in an effort to position himself for a better angle, and she saw her opening.

The back of his hand hit the tabletop with a sticky thwap. The crowd erupted, drowning out their quiet moans as they each shook out traumatized muscles, grinning at each other. The crowd started to wander away, bets paying out or up. Congratulatory hands clapped her on the back, and several ship’r’s tried to press drinks into her hand, which she declined with a nod of thanks and a wave-off. Fellow ship’r or not, you played a foolish game drinking free booze of unknown origin.

Damn girl, you make it look easy, every damn time, he groaned, rubbing his shoulder and grinning at her as the press of blue-clad ship’rs thinned around them in search of the next entertainment.

Stretching her arms behind her, she returned his grin. Clean livin’ pays dividends, my boy. That and havin’ young blood around to keep you on your toes in the gym. Releasing her stretch and shaking her arms out, she tilted her chin over to Daniel. Kid can bob and weave with the best of ‘em, and has quite the nasty right hook now, courtesy of my much-pummeled chin. Not to mention just generally having all that damn energy. Wears a body out at times just being in the same room with all that youth and vigor.

He turned and looked over his shoulder at Daniel, who was hovering nearby, standing his ground amongst the milling crowd of ship’rs buying or bumming drinks.

Still looks a bit lost around the edges, but he’s coming along, she added. Good kid, bad circumstances.

He’s got potential, for sure. I mean, look at this face! Marsh reached over and pulled Daniel to him, cupping Daniel’s face in his hands and scrunching up his cheeks. "Fluff him out a bit, and this is gonna be the cutest thing to ever hit port. He released his face and rumpled Daniel’s hair roughly as Daniel yelped in protest. Yup, this boy’s coin is gonna be his mug. Myself, I unfortunately gotta rely on my abundant personality, being somewhat short-changed in the looks department."

Hah, that personality’s a mighty small coin you’ve to jingle there, bud, she said, watching as Daniel batted away the tousling hand and backed away, looking mildly assaulted. His flushed cheeks spoke volumes, and not of any offence taken. Quite the opposite, in fact. The two had been eyeing each other with poorly concealed interest, which she found herself bristling at every time she caught them at it. To keep Marsh from further insulting his personal space, and to give herself a break from the growing tension, she asked Daniel to fetch them a round of drinks from the bar. He scurried off quickly, trying to restore order to his rumpled curls as he went.

Surprised you’re still dragging him around, Marsh commented, watching Daniel navigate himself to the bar and attempt to catch the attention of the harassed barman, who was shoving drinks into grasping hands as fast as he poured them.

She was surprised as well. It went against her typical grain, but he’d latched onto something in her that didn’t want to let go. Out loud, she scoffed, Heh. He’s earning his keep, which is more than most floaters are willing to do. My ductwork and galley have got a sparkle on them you wouldn’t believe, and like I said, he keeps me on my toes. Plus cutting him loose right now and losing tabs on him wouldn’t be good for my continued health.

Marsh turned back to her, one well-groomed eyebrow arched in surprise. You gettin’ leaned on?

You could say that. She pulled out a chair and settled into it, rocking it onto its back legs. So, I told you about who’s after him, right? Well, Vic took a likin’ to the kid during that last run, and you know how she’s got a galaxy-sized beef with those idiots. She’s promised me a royal thumpin’ if he comes to any harm, under my care or not. I’m playing the safe angle and keeping an eye on him so I can keep my precious hide intact.

Her shoulder still hadn’t stopped softly protesting, so she rolled it around, hoping the movement would knock something loose.

Scratching his darkly stubbled jaw thoughtfully, he considered Daniel from afar with poorly concealed interest. Sounds like a pretty sweet setup to me. How’s he in the sack?

She twisted her mouth into a wry grin and shook her head. "Wrong port, sailor. He doesn’t play on my team. And unlike some ship’rs I know, I ain’t getting my deck swabbed by just anyone that happens to wander on board."

He turned an oversized, wounded look her way. Hey now, those are deep and meaningful relationships that I treasure. Just because they’re only looking for a quick kiss-n-go, well, now that’s not on me. I’d relish me a long-term any day.

Oh right, and the number of floaters I’ve seen sneak off your rig in a big fucking hurry when you’re at dock and not looking, now that’s just coincidence, ain’t it?

He threw his hands in the air, a look of torment on his face. I shower them with affection, gifts—all they could ask for, especially with a free ride thrown in there—and all I get for my efforts is ‘you’re smothering me’ or ‘why you gotta be so intense’ or the worst; ‘No’. Can’t win for losing, I tell ya.

Listening with half an ear as he bemoaned his failed romantic efforts, her eyes wandered over to where Daniel was standing at the bar. It was his first time off the rig since they’d hit the station, having spent most of the time holed up with a pile of books, and while she figured it was safe enough here to let him wander about, it was still risky. While there hadn’t been any sightings of Life-r’s in the area, you never knew when they’d come crawling out of whatever hole they hid in. After Marsh had joined them at the repair station after running into several small issues due no doubt to their encounter out deep, she figured two pairs of eyes on the kid would keep him safe as they could get.

She narrowed her eyes at a couple that had just slithered up to the bar, a man and a woman dressed in identical skin-suits that shimmered with an iridescence that followed every graceful curve and undulating movement of their bodies. Flanking Daniel, they pressed close, not quite touching him, but there wasn’t room for a decent thought between their bodies. He looked confused, head swiveling from one beautiful face to the other, bemused at the sudden phalanx of friendly warmth surrounding him. The woman traced a languid finger down his chest as the man slid a friendly arm around his waist, both leaning closer to whisper into his reddening ears.

Aw hell. She sat up abruptly, chair thumping down, startling Marsh into breaking off his sad monologue.

What? What’s going on? he said, scanning the room with quick eyes.

Pros hittin’ up the bar, she said as she leapt to her feet, knocking back her chair with a clatter. A few eyes turned their way at the noise, but the general din swallowed up most anything beyond arm’s length. Any ruckus would have to be larger than that to garner any level of attention here. Got their hooks on Dan.

Mmm...hell yeah, he agreed as he followed Bax’s stare with his own. He reached out a hand as she stormed past and snagged her sleeve, dragging her to a halt. Before she could do more than growl at him he said quickly, Hold up a sec. May do him right to handle this on his own. They’ll figure out quick enough he can’t rub two credits together.

She shook off his hand but remained where she was, alternatively staring suspicious daggers at the pair and back towards Marsh, who flinched but renewed his grip on her sleeve.

C’mon, Bax, let the kid taste some new opportunities, why don’t ya? Gotta taste some strange sometime, right? Give him the chance.

A whole list of reasons why she shouldn’t leave a young’un in the grips of professional sex workers rumbled at the back of her throat, but she swallowed them back with a grimace. He was right, but right now she was short on trust, professional or otherwise, and for some reason she didn’t trust those two farther than she could throw them with one hand. And they were an uncomfortable distance farther away than that.

Fine, she growled through her teeth. I’m thumping heads if they make a move I don’t like, though. Misplaced anger settled at the base of her skull, warm and roiling.

He unclamped his hand from her sleeve and patted her arm. Back off, mamma bear. You ain’t his keeper.

She grunted reluctant agreement, righting her chair with a disgruntled thump and sitting back down, eyes pinned to the trio. Fine. Hands off until it’s time to throw ‘em, she said shortly, annoyed at Marsh’s insight. Yes, she was feeling protective, what of it? Kid needed protecting.

She tore her stare away from the bar and arrowed a hostile glance at Marsh, whose knowing grin temped her knuckles something fierce. Leave it, Marsh, she growled. Dangerous ground.

He gave a derisive snort. The day you scare me is the day I draw my last, honey. What’s grinding on you? Besides our tender morsel’s dubious honor, that is. I ain’t seen you this tetchy in a while.

There were dozens of answers she could give him, but settled on the one most pressing. Can’t find Aren.

He scoffed. Eh, no great loss. I’ll lend you my dispatcher; she’s a hell of a lot cuter.

Not shopping for a new dispatcher, she said. Just ‘cause you two can’t see eye to eye—

"—Hah! Not even remotely possible," he interjected with a bitter laugh.

She made a dismissive gesture. Knock it off. I get it, you’re pissed at him, but you earned what happened, and being an ass won’t change that. Anyway, I was counting on him to start spreading the word on a more official level, and he’s gone full ghost on me. Never done that before.

Told you the little cretin wasn’t trustworthy. Offer’s still on the table; quit getting short changed by that poor excuse of a dispatcher and come to the lovely side, where the cargo is plentiful, and the benefits befit. He spread his hands expansively, a grin blooming on his face. The playful expression froze, then soured, as his gaze flicked behind her. Speak of the fucking devil. Like I conjured the bastard or something. he muttered under his breath, dropping his hands.

She’d caught movement out of the corner of her eye at the same time Marsh’s gaze flicked behind her, so the hand that descended lightly onto her shoulder didn’t take her too much by surprise. The voice that accompanied it did, however.

Ship’r Bax, are you ever going to start picking on someone your own size? the voice said softly in her ear.

She turned slowly, surprise and not a small amount of annoyed affection washing over her. Without rising, she was almost at eye level with the speaker, having only to tilt her head a fraction to meet the gaze of the compact man of middling age that was unarguably the most beautiful person in the bar by any measure. Long, coal black hair cascaded away from the chiseled perfection of his face; the strong jaw, high cheekbones, and dimpled chin perfect accessories to the deeply green and heavily fringed eyes. Those emerald eyes were twinkling mischievously at her, and the perfectly formed, lush lips curved up into a roguish, warm smile.

Aren?

She was surprised to see the ship’r-turned-dispatcher here, a lowly repair port. His presence here was unusual, to say the least, but the universe couldn’t have picked a better person to throw in her path at the moment.

He touched his forehead briefly in a mock salute. In the flesh, dearest. If you spent more than a neutrino’s kiss in-system you’d be seeing a helluva lot more of it.

Not much of it to see, muttered Marsh, scowling down at the table and scratching random circles into the surface with a manicured thumbnail.

She ignored the grumping and smiled at Aren, gesturing to the empty space between her and Marsh. Pull up a chair and sit for a bit, and maybe explain why you’ve been leaving me swinging? I’m the one that’s supposed to be hard to nail down, not my trusty dispatcher. Oh, and try not to catch a chill from Mr. Arctic over there while you’re at it, she added, jerking a thumb towards Marsh, who was giving Aren a frosty sideways glare.

Aren slid an amused look over at Marsh, a grin tugging on one corner of his mouth. Don’t mind if I do. He snagged a chair and twirled it around on one of its legs with a flourish, straddling it as it came to rest. He nodded acknowledgement at the other man. Marsh. Marsh ignored him. With a slight shrug he turned his full attention back to Bax. So. Heard you had yourself an interesting run, care to share?

She flicked a glance at the bar, checking in on Daniel. He was still being assaulted by his dazzling, supple stalkers, but seemed to be holding his own. Aren followed her glance, eyebrows raised.

Ah, so that’s the floater with a Life-r chaser I heard you were dragging around with you. Huh. Looks a touch younger than your usual type, dearest. He cocked his head to the side, contemplating her with narrowed eyes. Cradle robbing don’t suit you, he said, disapproval coloring his soft voice.

"Oh for the love of—I’m not sleeping with the boy! Close conversation stuttered to a halt around them at her raised voice and several pairs of eyes swung around to their table. She slapped their attention away with a venomous glare, then turned her annoyance on a closer target. Unlike you boys, I don’t live in my crotch. Figured you’d all get that by now. And stop avoiding my question. Where’ve you been?"

Fighting a grin, Aren rocked his chair back on two legs. There’s my girl. Thought you’d gone all mopey and wet-bread on me with the look you’ve been carrying all afternoon. He slid his eyes over to Marsh. "Excepting of course when you thrashed that limp noodle. Perked you up right nice."

With a muttered curse, Marsh shoved his chair back and stood, storming over to the bar where he positioned himself in a clear area an arm’s length away from Daniel and his new friends.

She punched Aren on the shoulder, half playfully. Don’t be such an ass, Aren. You know he’s still pissed about you ratting him out to that way station, even if he should’ve known better than to take cargo from a fifth-party contact. It was stupid of him, and cruel of you. You could’ve just warned him.

Nah, not in my wheelhouse to handhold. A harsh lesson is a well-learned lesson, is it not? he said. He’ll get over it and love me like all ship’rs do.

Glancing over at Daniel, she frowned. She didn’t like the way the pair were getting handsy with him, running suggestive fingers through his hair and cupping various body parts with gentle but persistent hands. Marsh looked over at her, eyebrows raised, suppressing a grin. She looked back over at Daniel, whose face was bright red now, and was starting to shift around like he was getting uncomfortable with the attention.

She frowned, annoyed. Truth, but there’s times a body doesn’t need such forceful educating. He learned, but I doubt he’ll ever forgive you.

I’ll let that sit to the side, he said gently. It’s never a good day when we can’t come even about something. He nudged her with his shoulder. Been too long seeing you to get to fussing at each other right off, especially in light of recent, hmm, developments. There’s mighty good cause at the moment for all of us to forget past divergences of outlook.

I heard they’re calling them ‘squirmers’ now, she said, letting out a half amused chuckle. Apt description, at least to a certain point. When Marsh fired up that array and gave us a peek, I thought we’d all be giving back our lunches there for a tic.

Her mind wandered briefly back to the encounter out at the edge of mapped space, to the writhing, tentacled horror, and its ability to literally take your knees and mind out from under you. Or your body, if you were a Coalition aggressor. With a blink and a twitch of her head, she snapped back to the conversation at hand.

Aren was watching her closely, emerald eyes picking her apart from across the table. That bad, eh? he said simply.

He never did let her slide. Yeah, she said shortly, wanting to move beyond the topic. As far as she was concerned, the ‘squirmers’ were just another black dog to walk across her path, and had vanished back to wherever ethereal gravity ghost-monsters hung out. Just because they had left giant black paw prints across her peace of mind didn’t mean she had to dwell on it.

He touched her knee with a gentle hand. If I were a crueler man, I’d keep after you until my curiosity was satisfied, and ignore what’s lurking behind that look. But the knowing isn’t worth your hurt.

She laid her hand over his, curling her fingers around it and giving him a ghost of a smile. I’ll get to the tellin’, sooner rather than later, I promise.

Casting a glance over at where Daniel was backing away from the gentle sensual assault, and succeeding only in pinning himself against the bar, she said, I’ve another story that needs telling though, one that’ll prick up your ears for certain, and hits a touch closer to home. One you’ll be eager to do your own retelling of, if I read it right.

She saw Marsh inch closer and lean in towards the group, trying to make it look casual and only making it look more obvious he was eavesdropping. The lustrously sinuous man noticed Marsh sneaking a peek, and smiled invitingly, reaching out the hand that wasn’t being friendly with Daniel’s leg to include him in the deal. Marsh shook his head and held up a finger, tossing a look over at her she assumed was permission to snipe the pair away from Daniel. She shrugged and made a ‘go ahead’ gesture. She didn’t give a good damn if he wanted to do a little shopping, as long as it got those two away from Daniel.

Marsh’s face lit up and he took hold of the man’s hand, kissing it in a gallant gesture that should’ve looked out of place, but Marsh being Marsh, he made it look natural. The man took it in stride, curtseying gracefully, the light playing off the ripple of well-toned muscles. Reaching into a pocket, Marsh slid his hand far enough out so that the man could see the handful of credit slips cupped in his palm, all thick, high-value ones, then let the stack drop back out of sight.

Don’t keep me in suspense, darling, Aren said, turning his hand to squeeze hers in a reminder he was there. Anything better than spectral visitors spooking Coalition thugs has to be a treat for the ears.

She turned back and returned the squeeze, then pulled her hand away. I’ll set it right out in plain talk for you, ‘cause I’m figuring on you getting this out as far and as fast as you can chatter. The Coalition’s looking to set tattle-tales on every rig, no matter their standing. Don’t know the timeline, but everyone needs to assume they’ve been tapped already.

Aren sat back, a shocked look on his handsome face. Slow anger flared behind the narrowed gaze. Impossible, he said, shaking his head. They don’t have—

She interrupted the argument she’d anticipated. They do. I don’t know how they got their hands on that many, or how long it’s been going on, but I have the knowing of it from an indisputable source. I’m not wasting breath on talking you into believing, Aren. It’s fact, and you’re the best person I know to let it out.

She almost heard the click as he put the pieces together. I’d heard a pissed-off ship’r lit up HQ the other day, but had no idea you’d muddied your boots in that quagmire, he said, nodding slowly. How’s your brother?

Conflict raced through her, anger and frustration warring with the simple need to get the point across and no more. Aren knew about her complicated relationship with her brother, the Inspector General for the Coalition, and would be a comforting shoulder to unburden onto, but that was a knot that would take too long to unravel. This wasn’t the time nor the place for such things anyway. Lifting a shoulder, she said with a touch of bitterness, Ben is...Ben.

Aren’s expression softened with a touch of sadness. Ah, so not much has changed, I see. I’m so sorry, dearest.

Choking down a tightening of her throat, she nodded, shifting her eyes back over to Daniel, a safer focus. His newfound friends had abandoned him, flocking instead to Marsh, and were busy draping themselves around him with eager determination. Marsh was beaming, looking for all that his birthday had come early, and couldn’t wait to open his presents. Daniel’s face was beginning to assume its normal hue, the flush of confused excitement fading as he realized the attraction the pair had with him was not due to his personal charm. Looking slightly embarrassed, he gathered up the drinks the barman had finally plunked on the bar for him and started back to the table, casting a furtive, yearning look back at the trio as he moved away.

Well, Aren said briskly, breaking the mood with deliberate abruptness. That tracks.

She snapped her attention back to Aren, familial problems and carnal conducts taking a backseat to curiosity. "The hell what tracks?"

He rubbed his hands together thoughtfully. I’ve been trying to put together a few things, and I think you just handed me the lynchpin holding it all together. He went to set his hands down on the table to lean forward conspiratorially, but reevaluated that move once they touched the suspiciously sticky top. He settled for shifting sideways on the chair to bring her closer as he spoke in a low voice. "It’s why I’m here, luv, and a hard man to pin down lately. Been chasing ship’rs ‘round the quadrant. I’m trying to track down a suspicion of a breath of thought I had about certain ship’rs, and why they’ve dropped off my docket lately even though I know for a fact they’re still running cargo, just not for me, or any of my fellow dispatchers. No one can figure out who they’re working for, and they themselves aren’t talking. Tightest lipped group of cargo jockeys I’ve ever seen. Can’t even get them drunk to spill the beans; they don’t stop at any listed port. So the question