Before my meeting with the Smuggler’s Guild I’d parked my ship at the Common Shipyards outside New Macedonia. Skeeter had insisted on taking his yacht to the gathering and I didn’t have the strength to argue with him.

Our reception had been cold with little inclination in doing business. For now that was fine, I had little business to offer but this change in demeanor had me concerned. There’d been dry spells in the past but even then everyone had been positive. This time I could feel the chill deep in my bones.

It had been a long week and this souring of relationships was new. Right now I just wanted to get to my ship and go home so I could think. Skeeter wanted to make a detour to some gaming station, have some “fun.” It was his ship, we went where he wanted to go.

MK-5 was an “open air” facility, a bubble world – more like some cloud city that had lost its moorings and floated off into space. I didn’t like looking down, always seeing nothingness beneath my feet. Plus it was really run down. And smelled bad. And was, as I discovered, sitting on the edge of the Badlands, a region of space no one wanted to talk about. I hoped not to find out why. We made the rounds of the arcades and were heading home – I hoped.

“Hey, isn’t this where we parked?” I pulled on Skeeter’s jacket.

“Yeah, yeah. I just have one more stop.”

“Look man, we’ve been to half a dozen arcades. I’m tired. I just want to get back to my ship.” I started up the ramp. “You do you. I’ll wait in the cabin.”

Skeeter yanked me back. “No. I think you need to be out with people. I’m not liking your melancholy.”

I didn’t need people, I needed to be alone. “Plus, there’s someone I want you to meet.”

He pulled me along.

I tried not to look down. The slatted ramp opened to space below and it sparkled (fizzled?) with every step we took. A glitchy force field holding the place together made me worry that everything might fall apart in an instant. I regretted not wearing my EV suit.

We turned into an alley, narrow, shadowed, neon lamps buzzing as they pointed to the various establishments hiding within. Please let it be a bar, a dark, quiet bar. Drunks I could deal with.

“Here.” Skeeter yanked me through a door.

Dark. Light. Strobe. Curtains of smoke wafting from niches hiding shadow men murmuring who knew what. Ahead a blaze of light, more smoke, swirling to match the sinuous movements on the stage.

“Ladies and Gentlemen ...”

Skeeter dragged me to the bar.

“Let me introduce ...”

“There’s someone I want you to meet.” Skeeter grinned.

Why, I thought. Then I looked around.

Colors. This much I knew, these were gangs, pirate gangs. I recognized the colors, lots of colors. Must be some kind of pirate safe haven. I didn’t want to find out what kind of power could keep this bunch under control.

“What are we doing here?” I whispered between barred teeth.

Skeeter slapped my shoulder again. I was getting tired of that. “Business,” he said with a smile.

I didn’t do business with pirates, I thought. Only a fool would do business with pirates. Couldn’t be trusted. Plus my business was with the smugglers guild and if there was one thing smugglers hated more than the law, it was pirates.

“So we broker your information. Sell it to the highest bidder. Make a little side cash. What can it hurt?”

It could get us killed, I thought. “I’ve got nothing to broker at the moment,” I said. “Thought that was clear at the Guild meeting.”

“Not to worry. I’ve been slipping some tidbits around, sort of a sample of our wares.”

Oh, Skeeter, what have you done?

“I can’t,” I said. “My word is my bond. When I give out information, the people I give it to know that it is theirs and theirs alone.”

“So who would know how information is leaked? Happens all the time.”

My cheeks burned. I turned to leave.

“I thought that was you.”

I paused. A voice from my past. Randy. Public Safety. Enforcement. “Far from home,” I said, turning. We were well outside Kingdom space, I certainly did not expect Public Safety to be here.

“So, this is where the Time Patrol sent you.” There was a sneer in the way he said that.

Read the room, Randy. Same old asshole.

“You’re a Time Cop?” Skeeter pulled away from me as the bar grew silent.

“No,” I snapped. “Never even have been.” I glowered at Randy, finding myself hoping he had enough sense to slip out now.

Movement in the shadows. A click.

Shit. I pulled Skeeter toward the door. “Skeeter. Out. Now.” He resisted. A projectile clipped my shirt.

“Real bullets,” I said, eyes narrowing.

“What do you care? You can’t die.” Skeeter pulled away.

Not what I’d said, but no arguing now. I yanked him toward the door behind me.

I hadn’t planned on using Skeeter as a human shield. I didn’t think they would hurt a source. I was wrong. Blood stains spread across his chest as I bee-lined to the door. A few bullets ripping into my shoulder as I made my way to the alley, Skeeter’s body blocking the exit behind me.

I’d never said I couldn’t die; I’d said – many times – that I wouldn’t die here. Even so, I felt my life force begin to ebb. For now no one was coming out of the bar, so I ran faster, turning to the esplanade that led to the docks.

Shouts grew louder, my feet banging up the gangway. Skeeter’s yacht at the far end. Cries from my right, my left. More calls to action. I felt the gang way vibrate. Others were closing in. I’d never make it topside to the yacht, my only hope was one of its lifeboats. I prayed that the force field for the ship still worked, was connected to the station, as I clamored over moorings, refusing to look down. I punched the emergency latch and climbed in.

Indigo. That was the only word that came to mind, the only place I knew I could find the help I needed. I started the engine, pulling the craft from the yacht then aimed for the nearest wormhole, keying in codes as best as my memory allowed.

The control panel darkened, brightened, blurred. I didn’t have much time. I punched enter and before all went dark, asked myself ‘how had my life come to this?’

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