‘Rooks.’ Commander Ranicus’s voice was clipped as Cassidy, Tiran, and Rosewood entered the Blackbird’s bridge, but she extended a hand towards the planet on the viewscreen, the night-facing side clad in ebony sprinkled with the shimmering golden lights of civilisation. ‘Welcome to Kalviris Prime.’

‘Did the locals give us any trouble?’ Cassidy grunted, arms folded across his chest.

‘We got challenged five times by traffic control,’ said Falaris. ‘It was kinda rude, actually. Like they thought I was lying about where we were parking. There’s a few gunboats out here and they’re loitering with intent.’

‘If we don’t start trouble, I don’t think they will,’ surmised Ranicus. ‘They’re nervous and confused. I suggest we make the most of that and do our job quickly. Before some troublemaker decides that here, outside of Federation space, deep in a blinding nebula, is a great place to collect some Starfleet scalps.’

‘Agreed. We’ll beam down.’ He turned to Tiran. ‘You and me, Jessa; let’s go.’

She shook her head. ‘I’ll stay up here. Monitor comms. No offence to Lieutenant Falaris, but someone with a bit more experience of this kind of should keep an eye on chatter. It’s all about reading between the lines.’

Cassidy made a face. ‘Torrad-Var loves you.’

‘He likes you plenty. You need me here more.’

Grumbling, he turned to Rosewood. ‘Fine. You’re up, Kid.’

Rosewood rolled his eyes. ‘Oh, boy, letting me ride your coattails to a meeting on a seedy backwater? You shouldn’t have.’

‘Seedy, yes. Backwater, no,’ said Tiran, clearly jumping in before Cassidy could summon a rebuke. ‘This place is an artery for the sector.’

Cassidy snorted and nodded. ‘Don’t dismiss it just because it’s not on Starbase 38’s “Top Local Visits” brochure. Thirty million people live in the capital alone.’

‘Well, now I’m excited,’ Rosewood deadpanned. ‘I thought this was a once-failed Federation colony turned independent border world surviving through constant appeasement of the local Breen, but now there’s lots of awful people here? Yeah, I read the briefing. I guess you do need someone to watch your back.’

‘I need you to play nice and fob off anyone who thinks we’re interesting so I can talk to Torrad-Var in peace; that’s all. Someone should watch my back, though – tell Aryn he’s up.’

Rosewood rolled his eyes. ‘Now I know you’re screwing with me.’

‘Big damn hero the other day, saving that hostage,’ Cassidy reminded him. ‘But no; there’s no telling what Torrad-Var knows about any of the tech on the black market, so I want my science guy there to twist the thumbscrews if he starts to let anything on.’

‘Aryn? Twist thumbscrews?’

‘Ask nerdy questions, same thing. Go change. We want to blend in.’

Rosewood looked down. He was dressed only casually, but in a t-shirt and jeans, he didn’t think he could look more unobtrusive. ‘Blend in with what?’

The answer was more. More layers, more colour, more everything. The streets of the city below heaved with life and light even at night. Towering spires, neon billboards and shining windows blotted out the stars, and to walk the streets of Kalviris Prime – the broken asphalt, the network of criss-crossing walkways bridging the towers – was like entering a metropolitan cocoon. The Rooks were on their best behaviour, so the three men proceeded from the transporter station to their destination on foot.

‘Torrad-Var operates out of a nightclub called Redoubt, in the Fifth District,’ Cassidy explained as they stepped out of the station and onto the metal walkway, high above the ground and still with more towering spires above. ‘He owns it. So don’t start trouble.’

Rosewood squinted at his back. ‘How do you think we normally behave at nightclubs?’

‘As a rule,’ muttered Aryn, ‘I don’t.’

They’d dressed, as instructed, to fit in, but they walked streets bursting with peoples from a thousand different worlds and, Rosewood felt, only one social strata. It would be more complicated than that; it always was, but the smell of indulgence and desperation, greed and hope, rang thick in the air. This was a place to spend it all, live big, and either win or die.

Redoubt wasn’t much different, a heaving nightclub in the heart of the city. The club itself was nestled halfway up a soaring spire, but a glance at the floating drones and secured walkways winding about the sides made Rosewood think Torrad-Var probably owned the entire building. At the top, he could see shimmering silver lights and a hint of greenery, and expected there’d be an opulent rooftop garden and penthouse overlooking the city.

The smell of anticipation was richer here; or, perhaps, the sweat. Either could be explained by the roiling queue outside, so long that he thought some people would still be there at sunup. That probably didn’t matter too badly; it seemed likely that, in Redoubt, the party never stopped. If Kalviris was the hub of the sector and Redoubt was one of its hearts, petty concerns like night and day wouldn’t matter to most.

Cassidy walked the line and stared down the Nausicaan bouncer who put out a hand to stop him. With the music pulsing from the open doorway, so loud and full it spilt out of the club’s every crack, Rosewood couldn’t hear what the Nausicaan said. Nor could he hear what Cassidy’s reply when he leaned in, but whatever it was had the bouncer stepping aside, and then they were in.

‘Let me guess,’ Rosewood said to Aryn as they followed Cassidy in, having to yell even for a quiet aside. ‘It’s Orion music.’

‘Kolar techno-blaze,’ Aryn called back. Rosewood was struggling to look relaxed as they joined the heaving mass of bodies and partying and noise, but the wiry science officer just looked bright-eyed and curious in a way he didn’t think was affected. ‘It’s actually not that popular; the Vondem musicians are much more likely to get the big DJ gigs -’

‘Is there anything you don’t know something about?’ Rosewood asked, just as two Orion women passed them by. One winked at Aryn, who didn’t seem to notice, and Rosewood laughed. ‘Oh, the age-old problem of the genius: the ladies.’

‘I don’t -’

‘Up here!’ Cassidy’s voice cut through the noise. They’d tried to follow close behind through the main dance floor of this cathedral to music and debauchery, but he’d still slipped ahead, moving through the thick crowd of dancers, traders, off-duty mercenaries, with an easy posture, like he belonged. He probably did. He looked more at ease here, Rosewood thought, than he had in the hallways of a Federation starbase.

They caught up at a stairway to an upper level. Cassidy had already dealt with the guards here, too, and ushered them to follow, ascending above the mists of vice and sweat as if bursting to the surface of toxic waters.

Before the door to the private office overlooking the dance floor, Cassidy stopped and turned to them, gaze sombre. ‘Remember,’ he said, voice like iron, somehow able to make himself heard even over the thudding bass of the music, ‘this is his domain. What Torrad-Var says, goes. Not just in Redoubt. But on this planet. So I don’t want any smug Federation superiority or wisecracking in there.’

‘Yeah, Aryn,’ said Rosewood, elbowing his colleague in the side.

‘Ow,’ said Aryn.

‘This,’ groaned Cassidy. ‘This is what I’m talking about. Taking you to a nest of vipers here. We can’t control if we’re gonna get bit, but we can avoid sticking our hands in their mouths.’

‘Yeah, don’t be an idiot, be polite; I got it.’ Rosewood rolled his eyes. ‘Diplomatic duties weren’t just about knowing which spoon to use. I can handle a crime boss.’

‘For starters,’ said Cassidy before he turned away, ‘don’t call him that.’