Critical Mass

Chapter Five

Ring of Kafrene

There was a near constant drip of traffic near the docks. Kafrene may no longer have been on any busy hyperspace lanes, but ships were always orbiting the area, waiting for open ports. How the place must have looked in its prime was something that Demo could not fathom.

After much protestation from Galen, Demo managed to break into an abandoned mining office. The walls were a patchwork of different paint schemes and each room had different tech dating to several years. Numerous companies had attempted to make a living off the dying colony, but all eventually fell into disrepair. She was a little surprised to find that none of the gangs had claimed the spot for themselves, but the security on the building had been tight. Someone wanted it to remain empty.

On the top floor, the building provided a clear view of the busiest sections of the docks, and it was there, through the blinds one of the few intact windows, that Demo had been standing for the past two hours, staring at the traffic with a pair of macrobinoculars she had purchased at the behest of Galen. Stealing from people who had done nothing to them did not sit well with him, and she did not have time to argue.

Galen had been silent the entire time. She had expected the boy to be on the brink of exploding with questions, but instead he was content to sit and stare. The earlier conflict had left a mark on him, and he did not know how to get past it.

It should have been a relief to her. Finally, she could get something done efficiently, but instead the silence was beginning to unnerve her.

She sighed.

"Come here, Galen."

Demo heard the boy slide from his seat on an old desk. A moment later, he was by her side, squinting out the window.

She handed him the macrobinoculars and took a moment to appreciate the boy's surprise. To be honest, her eyes did need a break from the strain, and here she was with a spare set, although the chances of him finding what they needed were slim.

"Whoa," the boy whispered as he took in the station. She didn't need to see the smile on his face; she could hear it. "Old Mara had a set of these, but they were nowhere near as good."

She let his gaze wander the area, keeping her focus on the docks. Some were open-air, allowing her to see what exact ships were docked, but others were closed off, and all she could do was infer from the appearance of those exiting the lifts and airlocks. Most of the travelers looked the same: worn down, dirty, most likely local miners that had contracts to some of the closer asteroids still being drilled. Their ships would be too worn down – and more than likely not capable of hyperspace travel – for their personal use. They needed to find a balance between nondescript and functional.

"What are we looking for?" Galen asked eventually, having taken in everything to his satisfaction.

"A ship," Demo answered, pushing the macrobinoculars lightly with her fingers in the direction she wanted him to look. "We need to get off this station."

"And go where?"

"Ship first, destination later."

"I see a lot of ships."

"You see a lot of freighters," Demo clarified. "Large ships mean larger crews, meaning the chances of taking the ship unseen are unlikely. We can't afford a gunfight down here."

Her blaster pistol was in desperate need of repair. It had taken a few hits in the last fight and risked overheating far more frequently, but she doubted the shops had the parts she needed, and if they did, it would not be cheap.