Docking at the Choson Ring was simple enough. Smaller freighters, like the Raven, could fit in landing bays on the ring. You were assigned a space, and flight control watched to make sure you didn’t do anything stupid. Larger craft had to dock at one of the cargo airlocks located around the ring.

  My first landing went off without a hitch (partially thanks to Raven’s help). As I was doing the postflight checklist, I had her send a message to the people we’d hauled cargo for, letting them know that it was being delivered. Most of the packages were simply loaded up onto a freight hauler, signed over to them, and hauled away to a warehouse where the owners would claim them, kindof like picking up a package from the post office.

  The White Hand shipment, on the other hand, was getting picked up in person, which only made sense, since it was a high value job. Once I was done with the checklist, I joined Sheila in the cargo bay. She was dressed up in her new gear, though still looked to be uncomfortable holding a weapon like the shotgun. Guess I should put her mind at ease a bit.

  “Sling the shotgun for now. If we get into a fight, I want you ducking behind cover, not trying to be a heroine.”

  “Then why did you give me this?” She asked, motioning with the shotgun.

  “Let me ask you a different question. You usually go everywhere with your guards, right? And most times, nothing happens, because they are usually imposing people, with obvious weapons, right?” She nodded, so I continued. “Well, it is the same thing here. A woman, unarmed and unknown to the locals, dressed like you were when you first got on my ship, would be seen as one of two things: either a victim, or a Psyker so sure of her powers that she doesn’t need a weapon. Either one will draw a lot of the wrong kind of attention.”

  “And dressing up like a hoodlum with a shotgun doesn’t?”

  I chuckled, and shook my head. “Not in these kinds of places, sweetheart. Things can get hairy when you’re in the less affluent areas. Having armor and a weapon means you aren’t an easy target, but doesn’t put you in the same threat level as someone too cocky about their powers. Stick with me, and try not to gawk like a tourist, and we’ll be all right.”

  “And when can I contact my sister?”

  “As soon as we get your new ID card, you can use one of the public terminals on the station. And don’t give out my name, or the Raven’s name. The communications won’t be secure.”

  That was about the time that the representative from the White Hand showed up, with a group of four toughs who doubled as workers. The toughs were armed with pistols, and I couldn’t see a weapon on the suit, but I figured he had one. They also had an antigrav pallet to take the pods off my hands.

  The suit stepped forward, and said, “Captain Mollen? I am Charles Dent, of the White Hand Company. I believe you have cargo to deliver?”

  “You have some ID, yes?” Not going to just hand over a shipment worth 300K + 100K bonus without at least checking the unknown contact. The man nodded, and pulled out his ID card. I risked a Mindread while he did that. He was actually Arthur Randall, but he was indeed the White Hand rep I was supposed to be handing the cargo off to.

  Also, I found out that the five people in the stasis pods were five specially trained pleasure slaves from an exclusive breeding farm in what used to be Montana. Though the buyers wouldn’t know it, the special training also included conditioning training, leaving them as pawns of the White Hand. The owners would never know it, but their slaves would be spying on them the entire time. It gave the company an excellent information network inside the homes of the rich and powerful.

  Letting go of the Mindread for now, I handed the man’s ID card back, and nodded to him. “All right, Mr. Dent, your cargo is right here.” The four toughs loaded up the pods, and ‘Dent’ sent him the payment, including the prompt delivery bonus, swelling Mirikon’s account balance substantially. With the payment from the other cargo and the money he had before, after paying off the docking and refueling fees for the station, he was sitting on over 650K credits.

  As the toughs were loading the cargo, Mirikon looked over to ‘Dent’, and said, “This is my first time on the station. Anything interesting to do around here while looking for work? After this, I think I’ve earned a couple days’ R&R.”

  ‘Dent’ chuckled, and said, “Well, there’s plenty of bars on the station. Mindy Lou’s Brew in Section 8, deck 14 is one of the places spacers like to hang out. If you’re looking for crew or a job, that is a good place to start. Section 9 has most of the ‘personal’ shopping, clothes, gear, electronics, that kind of thing. Section 10 is where you want to go for any of your ship’s needs. Sections 11-15 are mining and industrial, anything you’d need from them, you go through Section 10 for. Section 16 is for short term ‘companionship’, and the slave market. That brings it back around to Section 1, with Administration. Sections 2-6 are residential, both short term and long term, and Section 7 is Military. Don’t be messing around in Section 7 unless you want to be a ‘guest’ at the Pluto Detention Facility. For the record, you’re docked in Section 16 right now.” It was clearly a well-rehearsed spiel, and I didn’t doubt that many of the places recommended were White Hand properties. Still, it was good info.

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  “All right, then. I’ll be sure to check out the sights.”

  ‘Dent’ nodded, and left with the toughs and his cargo shortly after. I turned to look at Sheila, who had stayed out of trouble nearby, watching the unloading of the cargo, and said, “All right. Let’s get you a new ID, and you can make your call.”

  It cost me another 500 credits to get her a ‘replacement’ ID, but I’d made good money on this trip, and it didn’t hurt to make friends with royalty, even if I didn’t plan on sticking around Imperial space for too long. So I didn’t begrudge her the expense. I was kindof interested to see how this all played out in the end.

  While Sheila called home, I was discussing options with Raven through my bracelet. “Raven, I’d like a list of possible upgrades for both you and the ship. Even if it is something we can’t afford now, or can’t find around here, having an idea on what to look for or how much I need to save up.”

  “Certainly, Captain. Would you like them to be grouped according to type?”

  “Yes, and if there are multiple upgrade steps for a feature available, just list the first one, and mention that it unlocks a higher tier. Also, in the list of upgrades for you, include some things you would personally like.”

  “Understood. But are you sure? Most people don’t want to have their AIs thinking like they are people.”

  “Raven, while the law might say you belong to me, you’re my partner, not my slave. I’d rather have an AI that thinks for herself than one that is oppressed and may decide to kill all humans or such stuff.”

  The AI giggled, “Understood, sir. The upgrade list is being transferred to your bracelet now, you can read it on your goggles.”

  Well, some of these were real ‘no brainer’ options. But most of the ship upgrades would cost time in a yard as well as the credits, so I focused on the AI upgrades until I knew what we’d be up to, as well as a couple other things that I could install myself. I’d leave the physical avatar until later, when we had time to make a solid decision. Anyways, with the other AI upgrades and the ID Spoofer, I was out 18300 credits, but well worth it in my opinion.

  I was about to start prioritizing the physical upgrades to the ship when I saw Sheila turning away from the comm station to look at me. It looked like troubling news.