The return trip had been quiet. All of the crew were battered and sore from the rigors of the last job, and most of the return voyage was spent in long periods of restorative sleep. Zag had arranged medical check-ups for all the crew for when they arrived back on Minerva. The doctors of the Galen institute for medicine were among the best humanity had to offer. If there was something wrong, they would find and patch it.

  As they completed their final maneuvers into the station, the crew began to perk up; eager to stretch their legs from the cramped confines of the Flavus. When they had left for their customary trip to the Saviour, Zag went straight to the guild-hall. Here he learned three key things.

  News feeds abounded, decrying the tragic loss of the Pietas, reported as lost with all hands due to catastrophic engine failure. Federal officials had arranged a memorial, and the crew were all posthumously awarded the Medal of Humanity, the highest civilian honor available. It had vindicated Hads predictions, but that did little to alleviate Zag’s feeling of disquiet. He knew, perhaps better than most citizens, that the federation was flawed, but to see the disingenuity being displayed so prominently made the anger rise up in his gullet.

  He also ran the scans of the ship they had encountered through the guilds library. He did not receive an identity confirmation of the ship itself, but learned that the Praeses-Class was a designation used for a series of ships made by an Earth Corporation that also supplied the Federation Navy. The Praeses-Class was originally designed as an electronic warfare vessel, but had been repurposed when Navy contracts fell through. It had a formidable sensor-suite, and due to its original purpose of design, was extremely durable. According to the guilds records, the contract for the ships had been passed to a variety of mining guilds after the Navy deal had fell through. In this capacity mining corporations used the ships for prospecting and surveying. Zags suspicion regarding their mystery interloper rose somewhat. It seemed to him, almost certain now that the ship had been there to intercept the same signal as they had been.

  Zag frowned at the terminal in front of him. He fancied he knew nearly every player that partook in his line of business, and so the presence of a mystery competitor annoyed him. He resolved to confront the client when possible, maybe he could wrangle an answer from him.

  From there Zag went straight to rec street. Along the tram lines all of the screens were playing news updates, with a long line of pasty news anchors reading canned federation statements. Black was the color to be wearing if these bulletins were believed, and when Zag found himself stepping out on the station at Rec Street, it was a somber affair. The usually bedecked and crowded alleys were empty and drab. A few scattered dead-enders made their way amongst the disparate bars and eateries that were open. Many places were closed, perhaps suspecting that for the time being, business would not be good. The black-metal shutters covering the businesses accentuated the gloomy mood.

  When Zag entered the Ubiquitous Saviour it was practically empty. Hiro, rather than sitting in his customary place behind the bar, had taken a bottle and sat with the crew of the Flavus. The only other patron, a man of derelict appearance; shaggy and unkempt, snored quietly as he slept on the bar. His head was laid flat against the cool wood and his hand still grasped at the half empty glass of liquor he had been drinking.

  As he sat with his compatriots, Hads was finishing up a semi-rant, decrying the attitude towards ship construction amongst federation ship-building firms.

  She was really going, “It’s no wonder they lost the Pietas.This wouldn’t have been the first time they’d lost ships due to malfunction or poor maintenance. Remember the Veritas? Lost with all hands when a faulty fusion reactor blew out their life support. How did they expect the Pietas to survive outside the solar system for a century when they’ve got ships less than a decade old falling apart inside it?”

  Look how easy the lie is, Zag thought to himself. Look at how quick the others nod along.

  He knew Hads was just maintaining the story they had agreed upon, but still he forced down a growing resentment of her. Whatever had happened to the pietas, the Federation had heard, and had decided to bury it. The resentment was more than simply the fact that Hads was lying, it was that she had been right.

  Zag could feel his naivety peel away painfully, all of the remaining illusions about the role of the federation, the value of security, giving way to anger at a single deception. He took a glass from the table and eased the passing with a glass of what turned out to be a very fine brandy.

  With the liquor warming a fire in him, he remembered. There was someone else here he was truly angry at, and if he was lucky, that person would still be sitting in room three-oh-two, not a five minute walk from where he sat now. Quickly and without comment Zag poured himself another double measure of brandy and downed it. It fed the warmth within and filled him with a resolute calm. He stood up quietly.

  “Looks like not much celebrating to do today. I’m going to turn in early. Thanks for the drink.”

  The others looked up at him and made a small show of outrage, a few feeble pleas to stay, but Zag could tell their hearts weren’t in it either and he slipped away, promising future attendances and celebrations.

  When he was out in the street Zag turned left from Hiro’s. A condensation rain was falling in the street, and the cooling effect brought a mist up from the warm streetway. Zag was wearing a light jacket over his ship overalls, and he brought the hood up as he went to keep himself dry. He took another left at the next junction, checking carefully behind him that no one followed him from the bar. A well meaning Rin or Hads, chasing him down to bring him back, that would be a problem. This road led down perpendicular from Rec-street, and he took another left down an alleyway to bring him back towards his intended direction. The alleyway itself was not a street, and was usually reserved for deliveries to and from the kitchens of the many establishments on rec street. With all the commerce dead, the alleyway was home only to moldering cardboard, feral cats, and the pervasive stink of garbage.

  There were more cats than usual. They were another quirk of Rec-Street, and one not found elsewhere in the station. In other districts, administrators were quick to cull any non-trade animals as pests, but in Rec-Street’s case they had been allowed to remain. At some point in the construction of the ramshackle district, they encountered a vermin problem and for a period of some years, the administrators had struggled to contain the issue stationwide. Then the cats had begun to spring up around Rec-Street, and the problem lessened. In the end the administrators had begrudgingly allowed the cats within the confines of the district, so long as they continued to be a solution to the vermin problem.

  Zag proceeded onwards down the alleyway finding the door where he had expected it. There was a plaque, rusted and worn above the door, it read ‘Hotel Loading Dock’. Before Zag stepped through he crouched down next to the large skip bin that adjoined the door. He pulled his pistol out of his chest rig and slowly pulled back the slide to confirm it was loaded.

  The piece was an ornate one, as were most captains' sidearms. The metalwork was filigreed stainless steel, inlaid with copper and gold, in an interwoven pattern that resembled a thorny grove. The grips were rosewood of a deep red, and had the seal of the Jovian Guild carved into their faces. The weapon had never been fired in anger, but it functioned perfectly and Zag had put many hours into practice and maintenance with the pistol.

  With his weapon stowed back in its holster, Zag stood up and made his way through the deliveries doorway. Much to his relief, the area beyond was empty of people. The hotel loading area was as bereft of activity as the rest of the district. Zag pushed on, stepping between stacks of empty pallets, and forgotten deliveries of linen and shelf stable food. To his immediate front were the kitchens, and off in the far right corner was an emergency stairwell. Zag had often gone in through the kitchens when on other work business, where a bribe to the right kitchen hand or chef often got solid information and free access wherever you needed, but today he wished to be unseen if at all possible.

  This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

  He took the stairs. The concrete steps and metal handrails led him up to level three. The smell of piss and vomit was intense, and somewhere in the stairway, water was dripping. The echoing sound set Zag’s teeth on edge. Quietly he pushed open the door to the third floor, and walked the hallway towards his target room. He made a right to the correct row, and had to stifle his surprise.

  Six men stood around outside the entrance to three-oh-two. They all wore black overalls, of a kind that was common amongst ships crew everywhere. The leader, a mildly overweight man, was hammering on the door of the room. Zag saw an emblem emblazoned on his back, an ear of wheat on a field of stars. Two of the men turned to regard Zag as he turned the corner.

  Zag quickly put down his rising panic, and mustered as nonchalant a walk as possible. He passed the group, keeping his head low and eyes down, hoping desperately to avoid notice. Whatever this was, he wanted no part of it. The leader of the group had stopped hammering, and was now proceeding to attempt to kick the door in. His repeated kicks came at steady intervals.

  Thud…..Thud….Thud

  Zag was approaching the next junction, about to take a turn and make a break for it when a voice rang out.

  “Hey you! Wait!”

  Thud…Thud…Thud

  Zag turned, and saw a man moving slowly away from the group, staring intently at him.

  Thud…Thud…Thud

  “Do I know you?”

  The man didn’t respond but took another step towards Zag.

  Thud…Thud…Crack

  Suddenly the door gave way, splintering wood and bent metal caving under the repeated onslaught. The door fell backwards into the room and the inquisitive shipman that had been so interested in Zag looked over his shoulder. The group's leader stepped into the room.

  Somewhere deeper in the room, charges activated.

  The four men by the room were illuminated briefly; backlit by the explosion, and then disappeared in a hail of shrapnel. Zag felt the concussive force of the blast force him backwards into the wall of the hallway. With the force came shrapnel, burying chunks of concrete and metal into his chest and legs. Zag slumped, screaming, into a pile at the base of the wall.

  The man who had taken a step towards Zag fell forward, and Zag briefly saw that the flesh of his back, from the skull to heels had been ripped open, exposing bone beneath bleeding flesh.

  Zags eyes watered and his vision swam. He struggled for each breath, agony tearing into him with each gulping attempt. There was a quiet now, with only the sounding of alarms on lower floors, and the trickle of fire sprinklers.

  He couldn’t say how long he sat there, watching haze and smoke drift past. Seconds maybe, minutes probably. Then there was a figure coming out of the smoke. Two, then three, then four. The first one was Hads, she ignored Zag’s bleeding form, and kneeled around the corner of the hallway. She had a rifle in her hands, and she was covering down the hallway from where the explosion had come.

  Next was Damien and Hiro, and behind them Rin. Rin was also holding a rifle. Seeing Zag she faltered momentarily, then turned away; rifle up, covering the rear approach. Hiro and Damien crouched down by Zag and spoke to him. Zag didn’t hear it. The explosion had broken something delicate in his skull, and he was deaf. Damien produced a pen syringe from the first aid kit he always kept strapped to his thigh. He slammed it into the side of Zag’s thigh and a cool relief flooded Zag, stripping away the pain and replacing it with unrelenting drowsiness.

  On the smoldering carpet Zag lost consciousness.

  Zag awoke in a small room. He was lying on a cold metal table, and splayed around the floor were discarded packaging from what he could only assume were medical products. There were IV drips going into both of his arms, and he was covered in bandages from head to toe. In the corner Damien was sleeping soundly. Looking around further Zag recognised kitchen knives, copper pans and bundled produce.

  Zag made to sit up, and immediately regretted it. Pain spiked into him, and he let out a pained yelp. The woke damien, who rose groggily.

  “You’re alright Zag, stay down for a bit, yeah?”

  The best Zag could manage was a pained groan of acknowledgement.

  “You’re not even supposed to be awake yet, let alone up and about. Lemme get the doc to come check you out.”

  There was a sound of a door swinging, protesting on creaking hinges.

  With a sinking realization Zag noticed he couldn’t see out of his left eye, his hand came up slowly and found a bandage, adhered directly over his left eye socket. A panic came up through him, and try though he might, it would not recede. His breathing came faster and faster, and he picked compulsively at the edges of his dressings.

  A hand clamped over his wrist and pulled his hand away.

  Rin looked down at him, hazel eyes mixed pity and anger.

  “Take a deep breath.”

  The pain of the grip on his wrist centered him, and he held Rins gaze and nodded. People were filing into the room and Zag twisted to see who had entered.

  She let his hand go, and went to fetch a glass of water.

  Hiro stepped to his side and spoke in a quiet reassuring tone, “Hey lad, this is Doc, he’s going to have a quick look at you. He’s trustworthy.”

  The doctor was a tall, overly thin man with balding white hair and large spectacles. He did not ask Zag any questions. He simply checked Zag’s bandages, replaced the IV bags, and whispered something to Hiro in passing. He let himself out the swinging door without comment, and left behind a palpable silence.

  Rin forced a glass of water into Zag’s hand, and sat next to the other crew against the far wall. Hiro helped Zag twist up into a sitting position. Damien and Rin sat on a bench seat, while Hads stood leaning, arms crossed.

  “Well?” Hads started, angrily.

  “What happened?” Zag asked hoarsely. His throat was dry and cracked, and he forced down some water to ease the prickle.

  “What happened?” Rin was incredulous, “You ran off and nearly got yourself blown to pieces. We had to come and drag you back here before station administrators scooped you up off the walls.”

  “Wait. How did you guys even know I was in trouble? For all you knew I was at home asleep.”

  Rin looked over at Hads, who met Zag’s stare unwaveringly.

  “The pin I gave you. It’s got a few other features.”

  Zag arced up immediately, “You were tracking me?”

  “Not actively!” Hads broke in, “When we heard the detonation we were worried and when you didn’t respond to comms I pulled up your location.”

  Lie, Zag thought, Too easy.

  “I suppose I should be glad my crew is keeping tabs on me then hey. Maybe you can get me a collar and a leash next so I don’t wander off.”

  The entire crew seemed uncomfortable. Rin and Damien were looking down awkwardly, but Hads held Zags' stare.

  “That’s a bit rich Zag, we’ve all kept secrets here.” She looked down at the pilot and mechanic. “I’ve already told them about what we picked up on our way back from Eris. You went to see the client?”

  Zag sighed deeply. “I went to confront him. To warn him off ever trying something as stupid as sending two crews out for a single job. But there were others there, trying to get into the apartment”

  Hads pulled up a stool next to Zag and sat down. “The others?”

  “You saw what was left of them after they triggered the flechette bomb. A half dozen, all male. They were in jumpsuits so I assume they’re shipmen, but who really knows.”

  “Any idea what they were after? Who they were?”

  Zag shrugged, “On a guess? They're someone else the client has pissed off. My money’s on the crew of the praeses class we buzzed. It would explain why they showed up there and kicked the door in. I bet they were as pissed as we were during that whole ordeal, probably more considering we showed them up.”

  “I got a good look at their jumpsuits, we can cross-check the logos against the registry later. Any other leads on why the client would leave a trap behind?”

  Zag simply shook his head. “Trust me, I’m keen to ask him about that myself. Do we need to worry about the station administrators? Surely station security is all over this.”

  “They sure are. I had a peek outside earlier and they’re already swarming all over the scene.”

  “Then shouldn’t we move a bit further away from here? Maybe take the flavus and lay low somewhere else?”

  It was Hads’ turn to shake her head, “I think we’re in the clear, the pins will have scrambled any security footage so station security is going to have a hell of a time piecing things together. And it’s not exactly like you’re in any condition to travel either, in your state.”

  As though reminded suddenly, Zag’s hand shot back up to his face, and his left eye.

  Rin saw the gesture, and with no small amount of pity in her voice, broke the news to him, “The Doc says there was too much damage. It's probable you’ll never get sight back in that eye.”

  Zag let his hand drop back down beside him.

  From somewhere far away in the station there was a rumbling sound. It grew louder, and the others in the room stood as the floor and walls shook violently. For a brief, foolish moment, Zag was convinced that it was an earthquake. When the realisation hit that such a thing wasn’t possible, he realised it was far, far, worse.

  The rumbling subsided.

  Then the lights went out.