Not Done Yet

The colony's government stayed out of the spaceports, of course. Some of the crew were Seekers, but some were just out-of-luck corporation people with nowhere else to go. The Seekers didn't want to have anything to do with the rest of the galaxy (you know how they can be), so it was this crew who set up the trade with the outside world--it wasn't like they had many other opportuntiites. The spaceports (there were only three originally) were basically their own little nation. That kind of situation was actually pretty common out here on the rim--you can imagine how tangled things got when two different groups settled one planet. Random Field was the place where the ships landed, named because when the pilot asked the colony's governor where to land and he told them to just pick any random field. The corp types were never good with naming.

Well, a few decades later, the Imps were set up and tried to regulate the corps, so black market business became bigger than ever. The smugglers, con men, and out-and-out crooks gravitated to backwater worlds that the Imps didn't bother with much--worlds just like Weston II. The people who ran the spaceports didn't exactly like the corporations, the imperials, or the colony's legitimate government, and they knew a chance for easy money when they saw it. So they didn't mind what the smugglers did and actually helped them out against the main government--as long as they got their own share of profit from the bars and brothels that the spacers' money flowed to.

You can imagine that the government wasn't too thrilled, but they realized there just wasn't anything they could do about it. They fought the creation of new spaceports with tooth and nail, but that was about it. Every now and then, even today, they send up a mission to try to convert all the spacers passing through it. They never work, and a few people always run off to join the life of sin, but they keep sending it up anyway. When we disembarked, it was pretty obvious that we'd arrived during the mission. There was a preacher standing on the corner near the docking bay, with a long beard reaching down to his waist like all Seeker men. You could tell he was a real hardliner--he was speaking Enochian, their sacred language, even though no one here would know it, hoping that people would just be spiritually inspired and understand him, like with Mitras. I don't know any Enochian--it's not a language I'm likely to use, unless I start trading with demons or something--although I've heard enough preachers like him to recognize it. But I'd bet good money that he was trying to tell everyone here how they were going to Hell. (Or whatever the Seeker equivalent is--I don't think anyone understands their theology, not even them.) No one much cared though--everyone here who believes in some afterlife pretty much knows they're going to Hell and doesn't really care. Then again, he seemed like the kind of preacher who'd be happier if everyone here did go to Hell than if he actually converted anyone.

I actually felt happy to smell the familiar stink of this port as we leave the Velus. Weston II is one of the ports just about every smuggler goes to sometime in their life--it's like our Mecca or Amaurot. I've been here several times. It never turned out well whenver I went here, but I kind of enjoyed it anyway--which kind of sums up my whole life. "So I guess this is where I leave you, huh, 'princess'?" I said. "It's been real. Too bad I won't remember it."

"We won't be parting ways just yet, I fear," said Aresia. "I'm not familiar with this port, and I'll need you to help me reach my destination. Once that has been accomplished, I will have no more need of you." Aresia smiled wryly--you'd almost think she was happy about this. I know that I was, in spite of myself. I wasn't too happy about how Aresia stomped all over my head like a dirty shag carpet--although I liked what she did to the Imps--but she interested me. She was a riddle wrapped in an enigma wrapped in the best legs this side of Orion's Belt. I did want to understand her a bit more, even though I wouldn't remember any of it--I'm funny that way.

1. "So just where is it you're going?" I asked her.

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