Anjali was lead away to the new arrivals area. Dwayne sauntered off the Rag Tag and fiddled with an external security panel which raised the ramp and engaged the seals. The interdiction-jamming arrays around the Lighthouse caused periodic distortion of reality above the planet. Confederate battle cruisers and smaller picket fleets maneuvered across the shimmering horizon. The port city, if it could even be called that, was a multilevel and metallic urban jungle that sprawled across most of the planet's surface. The Lighthouse was a center of banking and trade, once home to multiple cities. They'd all grown far and wide and eventually butted into one another. Nobody could agree on one single name, so it was broken into districts. And nobody alive today was old enough to claim to have been a resident of one of those all but forgotten cities. Except maybe Anjali. This place had only been a Confederate territory back then.<br/><br/>The docks district was always bustling. People coming and leaving. Mining crews always set out for at least a month at a time. Along with their security escorts and compliment of bulk freighters to bring back the load. The longer the laser drills cycled, the more money they pulled in. Pips per hour was the name of that game and it wasn't for the faint of heart. Pirates liked to try their luck with mining operations. They could lose an entire fleet and all they had to do was make off with one bulk freighter to get ahead in the money game. He earned a decent living as a solo spacer, but it'd take three lifetimes of it before he could ever afford bulk freighter. Pirates often flew whatever they could cobble together.<i>Jigsaw </i>class was a snide joke among some of the wealthy Confederates. Dwayne didn't find anything funny about a spaceworty and weapon capable vessel crewed by cutthroats and opportunistic slavers no matter how rickety or cheap it was. He'd shot a couple down but they always showed up in numbers. It had been hairy the whole way.<br/><br/>Dwayne walked over to a security station and offered his right wrist to the officer. She outfitted him with an electronic band. If you wanted to carry a side arm on the Lighthouse, you had to be<i>banded</i>. Any sign of a weapon discharge and it alerted law enforcement. He weaved he way through the masses and located a safe and empty spot near the new arrival's center, tapping the brief case against his leg as he waited. Anjali came out looking rather pleased with herself. It made him smile piqued his curiosity. Maybe it was the freedom or freshness of the situation? They'd both been created to<i>serve</i>, but in very different capacities. Life in Confederate space made Dwayne feel normal on most days. He went with the assumption that it was the same for Anjali and left it alone. Opening up old wounds was usually no fun for anybody.<br/><br/><b>"Captain."</b><br/><br/>"Alvarez. Let me guess. You're not dead or 'dyen? It's usually a good sign, but I coulda told ya that. This way."<br/><br/>Dwayne navigated the crowd and look back now and again to make sure she was still there. The market wasn't far, but they'd be passing a public transit station before then. They'd have to part ways for a bit. Bianca would stay with her. Anjali was in good company.<br/><br/>"Bianca will talk through the ear piece, but not much more than that. AI makes some folks nervous and bigotry is very much a thing. I gotta make a few deals and find some place to sell the haul. Bianca can reach me on coms if you need anything. I can't leave the channel open. Business boys don't like to talk money with open channels nearby. Market's that way. Can't miss it."<br/><br/>Dwayne took a different path through the crowd, making his way to the grav rail. The security forces in the market district were top notch. They had to be. And she had Bianca with her. Anjali had a more traditional education than Dwayne could've ever really hoped for. She was certainly more cultured than he was. That was part of what gave him pause. Her purpose and her up bringing around wealth. Those usually meant a somewhat<i>pampered </i>existence. Whether it was true or not, there was combat training in Crewman Alvarez's future.<br/><br/>"Hey."<br/><br/>Dwayne turned at the sound of a voice so close. A finely dressed gentleman, lean and younger than him, was standing much closer than he should have been.<br/><br/>"Can I help you?" he asked.<br/><br/>"How much?"<br/><br/>Dwayne looked down at the case, then back to the youth a bit confused. Scans would't reveal it's contents. No metals or electronics were present inside.<br/><br/>"How much for the dark skinned girl?"<br/><br/><i>Well that didn't take long.</i><br/><br/>"Not for sale." Dwayne admitted.<br/><br/>"Everything's for sale on the Lighthouse."<br/><br/>"Not this one."<br/><br/>"I'll give you triple your original asking price!"<br/><br/>Dwayne spun at last and squared up on him clinching his fists, "Ask me again!"<br/><br/>The youth wisely shrank back into the crowd. Dwayne boarded the grav rail car.<br/><br/>He entered a small shop after a short ride and a short walk. Business real estate was cheaper to lease this far from the major markets. Landers sold supply in bulk. Shopper didn't just stroll in a walk off with crates.<br/><br/>"We're closed." Landers called out.<br/><br/>"Not for me I don't think." Dwayne said walking into view.<br/><br/>Landers eyed him skeptically from behind his counter. Behind Landers lay the prize. Shelves and crates packed full of nutrient raw just waiting for the fabricator. In the brief case was his bargaining chip.<br/><br/>"And what manner of horse shit are you peddling today Captain." Landers asked.<br/><br/>Dwayne laid the case onto the counter and showed Landers the contents along with his smug smile. Landers glanced back to Dwayne a few times as he inspected the object.<br/><br/>"It's fabricated." he accused.<br/><br/>Dwayne shook his head, "Part it's machine swen. But the rivits and the thick spiral lacing. That's hand-hewn. The real deal."<br/><br/>"I'll give ya five hundred pips." Landers offered.<br/><br/>Dwayne closed the case but a heavy and fast hand laid a top it before he could remove it form the counter top.<br/><br/>"That's<i>strike two. </i>One more and I go next door." Dwayne threatened.<br/><br/>"What do you want for it?" Landers asked.<br/><br/>"Stock my vessel with a full compliment of raw and fresh water."<br/><br/>The Rag Tag could host a crew of four and hold three months of consumables. For a crew of two, the math was easy enough. He was about to feed Anjali and himself for half a calendar year with just one find. Spacing was the best job in the Verge, hands down. Landers looked like he might have more questions.<br/><br/>"Half of it's got to be the cheap shit. Profit margins Dwayne." Landers scolded.<br/><br/>"Done!"<br/><br/>Landers handed him a data pad. Dwayne made his selections, filled out the landing pad number for delivery and pressed his thumb print to the screen. The old man dabbled in rare art and antiquities on the side. It let him rub elbows with Confederate elites. The sort of people Dwayne would probably never have access to. The transaction was beneficial for both. He'd find a buyer easily enough. Rich people always wanted a piece of that little place called Earth.<br/><br/>"This is first base?" Landers asked.<br/><br/>"Naw. That's a catcher's mitt."<br/><br/>A small smile lingered on his lips during the grav rail ride all the way back to the dock-market station. Bartering for a full compliment of consumables was certainly a first. He hadn't heard form Bianca or Anjai either. That was a good thing too. He need only sell what he salvaged and count up the payday. It was a good day.<br/><br/>X-Zoomers was his next stop. It was a nice little dive, just far enough away from the market crowd not to be trampled over and just close enough to do a little business. The interior had an old feel to it. Modeled after two dimensional still images of what pub might look like on Earth. Wooden tables and chairs, complete with table cloths and stools up next to the bar area. X-Zoomers was mostly inhabited by mining and freighter fleet crews looking to unwind after a solid month underway. A small contingent of fighter craft pilots had recently taken up haunting the place. Interceptors other vessels that could<i>dance a vector</i>were fun to fly every now and then. Those who did it for a living had a certain attitude that Dwayne didn't care for. They mostly kept to themselves thankfully. Natural douche bags seemed to be born with the innate ability to sniff out their own.<br/><br/>Anjali was here, enjoying a drink. The pilots had seen her. They were huddled up, checking her out. Not that he could blame them. Dwayne caught himself enjoying his own<i>eye full </i>of her. He let the moment pass and decided to let it play out. Anjali was a free woman. That was the point of all of this. So she could live a life of her choosing, instead of the<i>life </i>she'd been designed for. Just as he had. And if fighter pilots were to ultimately be her choice, it was better that he know now. Aside from all that, he had business to conduct with the bosses currently present.