Page 7 of Alien Burn

“Wait.”

The image disappeared.

Dhomhes sat back. He could call again. The broker would ignore him, and by morning someone else would know what Dhomhes had been asking.

He saved the conversation instead.

A smuggler had described a similar method: a smaller charge, then a larger one after the first failure. Neither source could name the perpetrator.

Still, he sent the relevant information to the arrival security commander. Check the fuel connections. Recheck access below the platform. Report any disturbance to the repulsor housings.

Then he called Khalzin.

His friend answered with a fastening tool in one hand.

“What?”

“Are you building yourself a mate?”

Khalzin glanced down. “The clasp on my robes.”

“Terrible time to discover you need a female to dress you.”

“Dhomhes.”

He told him about the questions at the freight yards. When he finished, Khalzin had put the tool down.

“Do we delay?”

“I don't have a specific threat against tomorrow. I have people buying information they shouldn't need. I've sent everything relevant to security.”

“That's not an answer.”

“No. It isn't.”

Khalzin rubbed his forehead. “The vessel is already approaching the system. There are guards assigned to every entrance, and the platform has been inspected twice.”

“I've asked for another check.”

“Tell me what they find.”

“I will.”

For once, neither of them had a joke ready. Khalzin ended the call, and Dhomhes was left with the low hum of his displays.

He brought up the arrival roster. Crew, staff, volunteers. Most of the files were depressingly thin. People who had little to leave behind and considerable hope for what might be waiting here.

One restricted notice had been added to the security copy. A volunteer traveling under a constructed identity. Sereya. The reconstruction followed the deaths of a political family; the notice confirmed a protective arrangement without naming the family or the killers.

He could ask for more. His network would find someone willing to provide it.

But a frightened woman looking for distance was hardly unusual on this list. He restricted access to the notice and moved on to the crew.

Hours later, the inspection reports arrived. No evidence of interference. The backup systems had passed their tests.

He read the reports again, sent them to Khalzin, and went to bed.

Stron was already at the platform when Dhomhes arrived, standing under the awning in formal robes that looked uncomfortable enough to satisfy the Coalition.