The Fringe Wars

2.7

The Traitor of Terra Returns

The Gryphon attached alongside the Honorless on the far side of Terra's smaller moon. There, the two crews met to discuss the situation and brainstorm options. However, the topic kept digressing.

"I don't know what else to tell you," Gabe, the pilot of the Honorless said with a hint of exasperation. "Not long after they entered the stationhouse to meet with Seda, we lost contact. Either Seda has a dampener to block signals, or they're dead. If it's the former, we would've heard something from them by now. If it's the latter, there's nothing we can do and we should hightail it out of here."

"You're giving up on the captain too easily," Birk chided. "This ship isn't yours to take."

"Oh, yeah?" Gabe replied. "I'm the pilot. If it's not mine, then whose is it?"

"The Honorless belongs to Critch until we have tangible proof of his demise."

"Enough," Reyne jumped in, frustrated at the bickering and none too pleased with how close Birk was sitting next to Throttle. "Let's not start dividing Critch's possessions, shall we? First, I'm going down to the surface to meet with Seda to get to the bottom of this."

"That might be a bad idea," Throttle said. "If Seda killed Critch and Chutt, he could just as easily kill you."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence," Reyne replied drily. "If Seda intends to do me harm, he'll have a harder time since I'm going to make him come to me. Somewhere where we can better control the situation."

"It'll have to be someplace private," Sixx said. "Too many people will recognize you down there, and not in a good way."

Reyne nodded. "I know just the place."

***

Three hours later, the Gryphon landed at Rebus Station. Rather than taking a taxi, Reyne, Sixx, and Birk walked the two kilometers to their destination. He knew Sixx could use the physical activity due to the stress he'd been carrying around. It was late in the day, but the streets bustled with activity.

The colony still bore scars from the battles that had taken place during the Uprising. Empty, bombed-out buildings stood as ghostly reminders of the young men and women who'd died under Reyne's command. A day hadn't gone by when he didn't see their faces in his dreams.

Bone-deep exhaustion ebbed through his stiff joints. It was a fatigue he'd carried with him for two long decades, as though every life lost under his command was another lead weight he had to carry as penance.

When the rendezvous place came into view, Sixx frowned. "That's definitely not what I had in mind when I was talking about someplace private."

Reyne let old memories pour through his mind as he looked at the sign, which read:

LAST DROP CAFÉ

Critch and he had drunk far too many drinks to count at that bar. It had been their regular haunt during the Uprising, the place they'd go to toast victories won and commiserate lives lost. Unfortunately, there'd been too many of the latter.

From the look of the exterior, the place hadn't changed in the last twenty years, an assumption Reyne was banking on. He nodded to the bar. "It has a basement they use for storage. It should be safe from peering ears and eyes."

"But we still have to walk through the bar where there's going to be just the sort of Terran who may recognize you," Sixx said.

Reyne tugged his hat lower to hide as much of his face as possible. "If there's any place around Rebus Station that offers a level playing field, this is it."