An Appearance Meant Not to Deceive but to Inform

“Oh we’ve been in port for ten whole days, when can we go? Our ship is packed and the crew’s all in, when can we go? What’s the hold up, what’s the delay- we’re bound to stay another day? Oh please, please, let us go, Lord, oh please, please let us go.”

-from “Repair Blues”, spacer song

Yan and Sid had not had the best morning. They had started out their day with a rousing public forum. It was mainly the citizens of City-One-North, but Yan doubted that opinions across the planet were very different. They were all under the same blockade, after all. Possibly opinions varied based on where particular black market venues had frequently operated, but that wasn't something that Yan was too concerned about. After all, if someone was angry that their local drug dealership was closed, well, they couldn't very well complain about it on planetwide television, could they.

Although no one had thrown vegetables at them, and they had both managed to keep pleasant expressions on their faces, almost an hour and a half of constant haranguing by the public was enough to make both of them slightly crazy. They couldn't even give satisfactory answers to anyone who asked them a question.

"What punishment is the Trade Guild going to recieve for blockading our planet?" Someone asked.

And Yan was forced to say something like, "The Empire is not currently seeking punitive measures, we are interested in finding a peaceful solution to your problems..." And then the whole auditorium would start to chatter and boo.

It was rough. Yan and Sid finally slunk out, tails metaphorically between their legs, and took refuge in their hotel for lunch. They had a little time to kill before the real meetings would begin.

Unfortunately, even their "free" time was fraught with complications. As Yan and Sid sat down to eat, Iri came over and handed them an ansible message she had printed. It was from Sandreas. She gave each of them a copy.

It started out as a general update on how things were going with their mission. Yan gasped when she read about Kino's misadventure in the caves of Tyx III, Sid was intrigued by the use of what Sandreas called 'shock and awe' on the population of Jenjin. Yan had a suspicion that the first part of the letter was actually ghostwritten by Halen, as Sandreas didn't seem the type to remember to keep his apprentices updated on what he was doing. The letter contained just enough detail to make Yan glad that she had chosen to come to Olar instead of the front and Jenjin, pirate attack notwithstanding.

Then the letter took on a drastic shift in tone. It was as though it had been composed over several sittings, and on the last one, Sandreas had finally learned what had happened to Yan and Sid on their journey. This part, Yan was sure that Sandreas had actually written.

Yan and Sid, first, let me say that I am glad that you are safe. My recent experiences on Tyx III have shown me just how important that you two and Kino have become to me. I don't know how my own mentor, Caron Herrault, managed to send out her apprentices and cope when the worst happened. Irrationally, I wish that I did not ever have to let you out of my sphere of influence, but you know as well as I do that there are times when you must go out into the universe on your own.

I can't say that I know what you are feeling right now, but I can imagine it. I won't tell you a story about the things that I have done, because I don't think that will help you right now. In this line of work, sometimes you will be tasked with doing things that have a cost upon your soul. That is the price that leaders must pay to save those under our care.

[As an administrative note and an aside, you are in charge of where you go and what you do, not Lieutenant Harber. While he may offer compelling reasons for things, and it is usually best to follow the advice of those tasked with protecting you, you both have the ultimate say. I am told that there was a small amount of threatened mutiny, which, while amusing, should not be necessary in the future. Keep in mind what role you hold, and use the powers that it grants you. I trust you both enough to be responsible.]

I don't think that you did anything wrong. Sometimes, in life, there comes time when the right thing to do still feels impossibly wrong. There's no easy way to make that feeling go away. The only cure is time, distance, and experience. If you could go back in time and make different decisions, maybe you would choose differently with what you now know. But no one has that luxury. There are no 'what-ifs' or do-overs in life, and to wish there were is to condemn yourself to a lifetime of suffering. The only thing to do is to take the lessons that you learned and apply them in the future. Until death, there nothing that cannot be learned from.

Not every decision you make will be popular with everyone. Some of them will be extremely unpopular with most people. If you feel like you made the correct decision, not even necessarily a 'good' decision, then you will have to let that go. I say that especially to you, Yan. It's easy for leadfeet like Sid and me to spin this as simply defending a ship from pirates, which is an unequivocally good thing. I know that the situation is complicated for you in ways that I cannot understand. I hope that your family doesn't turn against you, but even if they do, you can lean on other people you know.

Sid, I caution you to be aware of what ties you create, and what it will feel like to break those ties. The things of the physical world are not capable of saving you. This is not a command, but it is a warning given with compassion.

To both of you: even if you feel like there is no one you can turn to, remember that there is always God. God will hold you close, even if you feel there is too much darkness in your heart.

In other news, I'm gratified to hear that you both are getting along and having a successful diplomatic mission thus far. Keep up the good work.

I'm sure I will hear all about your experiences on Olar when you both get back. By time you read this, I may already be en-route to Emerri, so don't feel as though you need to respond. By time I get to Emerri, I'm certain you will already be off of Olar. Truly communication is one of the joys of space travel.

Safe travels home, I'll be praying for you.

Aymon

Yan and Sid processed the letter in different ways. Sid crumpled it up; Yan folded her copy neatly and tucked it inside her pocket.

"What?" Yan asked. "Why are you angry?"

"He can't say anything useful," Sid signed. "And he still manages to come off like he knows everything when he's half a galaxy away."

"Iri and Hernan report to Halen, and Halen reports to Sandreas, of course he knows everything," Yan signed. "I thought it was fine, not that I want to talk to him about it."

"Probably when we get back he'll talk my eyes off about his 'similar experiences'," Sid's face curled in a sneer.

"He probably has had similar experiences," Yan said. "Remember what Halen told us?"

Sid deflated a little. "I guess it probably would be worse to be the person responsible for killing your later boyfriend's family. Still. I hate hearing about how much worse somebody else has it."

"I don't know. At least we know that Halen forgave him for it," Yan signed.

"Obviously. But that's different. Kidnapper sympathy syndrome."

"You think that's what Halen's deal is?" Yan asked.

"What else could it be?"

"Yikes." Yan didn't really have an opinion on that. She figured Halen would have had plenty of time to break out of any brainwashing he may have been under, but maybe not. "Either way, we don't have to talk to him for a while. Not until we get back to Emerri."

"It seems crazy that we spend so much time travelling and then we're only here on the planet for a few days at most," Sid signed.

Yan shrugged. "Just how long things take on ships. You get used to it if you travel enough."

They finished up their lunch and worked for a while discussing what they were going to say in their meeting with both Governor Marquis and whoever the Trade Guild representatives would be.

Yan suspected that, out of politeness, Olms would only bring herself and possibly one other person. It wouldn't be prudent for Olms to bring either of the representatives from the Skyfish or Imei, and Lee was obviously out of the question. That left Yan's uncle Maxes and the council representative that Yan didn't know very well. Maxes could almost certainly be struck from the list. It was amazing that he had managed to sweet talk his way onto the trip in the first place, but Yan didn't think that his run of good luck could last much longer. Yan figured that Staffort, the last Council member, would be the only reasonable choice for Olms to bring with her. So it would be either Olms by herself or Olms and Staffort. Yan and Sid placed bets on who would show up.

The meeting would take place in the Olar capitol building, yet another place that was built directly into the high mountain walls that overlooked the city. It was quite near to the governor's residence where they had met with Marquis, but this was a much more formal event than that private meeting. The sun was just about to sink below the opposite mountains, and the light of it cast a heady golden glow over the capitol. It was built of towering stone, seemingly mined from the same reddish grey rock as the mountains. The steps up to the front entrance were terraced and impressive. It wasn't a very practical entrance, but the practical entrance (including parking garage) was hidden one level down, carved out underneath these wide stairs.

Yan and Sid made the trek up, all the while smiling at the media who followed their every move. They were met at the top of the stairs by Marquis and Olms. Sid smirked at Yan; he had won the bet that Olms would come alone. They all shook hands and posed for photos together at the top of the steps. It had all the components of a friendly meeting. Yan suspected that Olms was coming in more willing to work things out than it had initially seemed.

There were yet more media people inside, of course, and they followed the group into the depths of the capitol building, toward Marquis's office. They were blessedly forbidden from the meeting itself, though the whole thing would be recorded for posterity, just without the actual presence of the media.

Marquis's office was nothing like Sandreas's in Stonecourt. Where Stonecourt's halls were light and airy, everything on Olar had the stodgy feeling that only the rough hewn stone of the mountains could bring. Everything that wasn't stone was heavy, dark wood and thick drapery. It would have been alarming if Marquis's office was the only place that was decorated like this, but all of Olar followed these interior design rules. For some reason, people on Olar liked to decorate like this. The carpet and drapes in Marquis's office were all a forest green, which Yan appreciated. It was a nice contrast to the reddish tint of the stone. One wall had windows and a balcony. The sun had truly slipped behind the mountains, but the sky remained slightly illuminated. It was eerie. When the group took seats, Yan made sure to position herself and Sid such that she wouldn't be able to see that huge, red moon if it rose over the horizon. She didn't know why she hated it as much as she did, but she knew she would be able to breathe and speak easier if she wasn't looking at it.

"Thank you all for coming," Marquis said, sitting down. They took seats around a coffee table, with Olms and Marquis opposite to each other, and Yan and Sid together at the side.

"Of course," Olms said, sounding polite. "The Guild is eager to put this business behind us."

"As are we," Marquis said. He was polite, but his tone indicated his frustration that the Guild could simply leave, if they were so eager.

"Thank you both for allowing us to facilitate this meeting," Yan said. "Would it be helpful if we laid out the points as we see them?"

Olms smiled at Yan. "I would love to hear a neutral party present the case."

"I have no objection to that," Marquis said.

"Excellent," Yan said. She nodded to Sid, who picked up the conversation.

"It is clear to us that this blockade needs to end as quickly as possible. It suits no one. It was originally conceived from your need to prove that the Trade Guild would not tolerate any planets harboring pirates, which is a laudable goal, but one that unfairly impacted the citizens of Olar," Sid said.

"Apprentice Olms, does the Trade Guild feel as though their ships will be safe trading with Olar in the future? Has the problem been dealt with?" Yan asked.

"There's no way to know that, at this time. Our own ships, the Skyfish and Imei, have been safe, but that is because they are the most heavily armed ships outside of the Fleet. Were they to leave, who knows what dangers could come crawling up," Olms said.

"But is Olar any less safe than any other planet?" Sid asked.

"That depends. If the black market is still thriving on the ground, that incentivises pirates to come," Olms said. "Only Governor Marquis can say if that has changed."

"Governor?" Yan asked.

"We have always done our best to stomp out criminal activity," Marquis said. "We've pushed back against it even harder, recently. As I'm sure you know, we have made many arrests of suspected traffickers and sellers of illegal goods. With those people imprisoned, there is no more infrastructure for drugs and weapons to pass through," Marquis said.

"Is there any way you can prove that the planet is safe?" Yan asked.

"The only proof I can offer is if you inspect the records of those we have arrested, or watch their trials, you will see that we have caught the fat spiders on every strand of the criminal web," Marquis said.

"Just out of curiosity," Olms said. "Could you tell me where on the planet the trading was being done? Warehouses, secret storefronts, through the net and the mail?"

"There were locations where the products were being stored, at least. There were some, shall we say, depots on the equator that were raided. Things brought into the cities tended to be stored in small quantities in private homes and businesses," Marquis explained.

"Did you find any records that were kept of all of this? Even criminals need to keep the books, I'd assume."

"Some. Most people destroyed them when they got wind that the OPM was conducting raids," Marquis said.

"And you really think that you've cleaned up the entire planet in such a short time? I find that hard to believe, especially if you had, as you said, always done your best to stop criminal activity," Olms said. "I would love to be able to trust Olar, to believe that my captains' ships are safe here, but I'm afraid that I can't."

"May I remind you that the original cause of this was your captains ferrying in illegal goods themselves," Marquis said. "Should I ask for assurances that that will not continue?"

"Governor Marquis," Yan said. "The Trade Guild has done its due diligence in punishing the ships responsible. They have been moved to different routes."

"Hm, but just as Apprentice Olms has no guarantee that the black market here is completely gone, I have no guarantee that these new ships will not simply take up the mantle of the old ones."

"Then perhaps you will just have to trust each other," Sid said. "There’s no way to get what you both want without trust."

"I don't like trust," Olms said. "It leaves open the possibility of betrayal."

Yan thought this was being a little melodramatic, but Olms was smiling, so it was a joke.

"We must all occasionally commit to things that we don't like," Yan said. "Governor Marquis, what would make you willing to put your trust in the Trade Guild again?"

"All I ask is that my people be allowed to travel freely within the system. The mining and scientific operations on the outer planets have ground to a halt. We also need access to the wider marketplace of the Empire, in order to sell our goods and receive supplies in return. That requires the Trade Guild reinstating the old routes, with new ships."

"You won't ever be able to go back to the level of traffic you had before," Yan warned. "All the extra ships that were coming and going are forbidden. This is on the Empire's orders."

"We at least need the Circle Run. We depend on it," Marquis said.

"That all sounds quite reasonable. Apprentice Olms, what will you need, in order to trust Governor Marquis, to make this all happen?" Sid asked.

"May I ask a favor of the Empire?" Olms asked.

"You can ask, but there's no guarantee that you will receive," Sid cautioned.

"I would like, at least on a temporary basis, some independent commission to be set up that investigates all the in system ships docking at the elevator," Olms said.

"That doesn't sound right," Marquis said. "Why should all of my ships, which are scientific and mining vessels, have to be inspected while yours go around free? If that were to happen, I would need that independent commission to search all Guild ships coming in as well."

"This was discussed when this problem originally came to light. The Empire does not want to be responsible for this type of enforcement," Yan said. Not to mention, Yan didn't think she had the authority to order such a thing.

"May I propose an alternative?" Sid asked.

"Of course," Marquis said.

"Apprentice Olms, does the Guild have the ability to set up an office on the Olar Station?"

"Are you asking in terms of manpower, charges, or desire?" Olms asked.

"Would you be willing to set up your own investigation of the Olar sublight ships, rather than entrusting it to the Empire? I doubt many people would want to see the Empire swooping in to inspect cargo, so I say this for our sake as much as yours," Sid explained.

"This still seems one sided," Marquis said.

"Governor, this is your planet. You have a militia who you can order at any time to start investigating cargo that is brought down on the elevator," Yan said. "I would say that if you have not already been doing that, then you have been lax in your duties."

If the OPM and the Olar government in general had been letting cargo through without even a cursory inspection, then the current crisis was their own fault.

"The stationmaster is responsible for making sure that the cargo coming down matches the manifest," Marquis said.

"Then I suggest you find a stationmaster who is less susceptible to bribery," Sid said. "All of that cargo gets down to the planet somehow."

Olms smiled thinly. "Your government is always welcome to inspect the cargo unloaded on the station. My captains are used to rigorous checking elsewhere."

"So, would it be possible for the Trade Guild to set up their own office aboard the station?" Sid asked. "Would it be suitable to both of your tastes?"

"I have some questions still about how you think that would work," Olms said.

The conversation went on and on, every new point being met with some objection from someone. It was almost as though they couldn't just agree to agree, they had to object strenuously enough before they could actually give in. It was much more frustrating than either of the individual meetings had been, and Yan almost wished she was back getting yelled at during the public forum. At least people there had a reason to be contrarian.

The whole thing seemed to bring out the best in Sid. For once in his life, he wasn't the most unnecessarily argumentative person in the room. He brought up points and counterpoints to everything that Marquis and Olms said, trying to win the conversation.

Eventually, though, they had to reach an agreement. Fundamentally, Olms and Marquis both wanted it to end- a month or so of being under a blockade, and a month of enforcing a blockade, both grated. Marquis did have to allow that the Guild could do "random checks" of ships docking at Olar Station, which meant that the Guild would have to keep at least some sort of permanent presence there. In the grand scheme of things, that was a concession that he was able to make without too much fuss. He did manage to weasel out that it would be renegotiated after a few years, and that an OPM team would be on hand to make sure the checks were carried out fairly. He hadn't quite managed to win any financial compensation for the month of damage to the Olar economy. He would have been well within his rights to ask for it, but Marquis was not negotiating from a position of power.

They all shook hands at the end, agreeing on the deal. Someone in Marquis's office would take the recording of their meeting and draw up a formal document, which Marquis and Olms would sign together at some point in the next few days. Yan and Sid didn't have to be anywhere near that. The Empire had not agreed to anything: they were just there to facilitate the meeting.

Yan and Sid were able to escape, finally, returning to their hotel. The night had grown much darker, and that moon hovered in the sky like a malignant eyeball. Yan was glad that they would be leaving soon. She asked Iri what their travel plans were.

“I don’t know when the blockade will officially be lifted, but I contacted the captain of the Skyfish while you were meeting, and he said that he can take as far as Galena. From there, I don’t remember the name of the ship, but there’s a regular route that runs between Galena and Emerri. We’ll be taking that.”

“You didn’t arrange our transportation off until just now?” Yan asked.

“I’ll be honest with you, the alternative was taking the same set of ships back, which I don’t think you wanted. Harber, Hernan, and I have all been scrambling to figure out a different route,” Iri said.

They were standing in the lobby of the hotel. The clean and shiny place seemed an odd contrast to the rest of the architecture and general aesthetics of Olar, but Yan didn’t mind. Perhaps it was built like that because most foreign visitors would stay in a hotel like this. They might feel more comfortable in a place made with shining metal and bright lights than a room filled with heavy stone and drapery.

“Well, thank you for that,” Yan said. “You should probably contact the ship you think will take us from Galena to Emerri, though, before we actually go.”

“Of course. You know how it is,” Iri said, waving her hand.

“Do you think that Sid will be excited to go back to his home planet?” Yan asked.

“I haven’t the faintest idea, you’d have to ask him,” Iri said. Yan nodded.

“What’s a good dinner food around here?” Yan asked. She had suddenly realized how hungry she was.

“You can always order from the hotel’s restaurant,” Iri said. Yan debated this internally for a second.

“I’ll go ask Sid what he wants to do,” Yan said.

“Ok. Don’t go anywhere without letting one of us know,” Iri said. Yan resisted rolling her eyes.

“As if I could ever escape your watchful gaze.”

“Hey, you could try to slip out. You never know what you’re capable of until you do it.” That was too uncomfortably true for Yan, so she just shrugged and headed up to her hotel room.

She found Sid waiting for her, just outside her door. He had gone up to change out of his nice clothes, and was now wearing just his plain black cassock. He had somehow gotten hold of a plain black winter cloak as well, with none of the fancy decoration that they had on the ‘normal’ ones.

“Where’d you get that?” Yan signed, pointing at the cloak.

“Borrowed it from one of the Fleet team. Got you one, too, in my room.”

“Why?” Yan raised her eyebrows.

“Let’s have a night on the town, incognito.”

“Why?” Yan’s eyebrows couldn’t go any higher.

“We deserve to relax,” Sid signed. “Before we go back to normal life.”

“Two things,” Yan started. “Going out is your idea of relaxation? And we don’t have a normal life to go back to.”

“It’s an idea of fun,” Sid signed. “But you’re right, so we should take this opportunity while we have it.”

“What are you actually suggesting we do?” Yan asked.

“We could walk the city, see the nightlife, get some food. Also, let me show you something.” Sid pushed back the sleeve of his cassock to show Yan his arm. There was an angry red line across the back of it, as though he had gotten scratched by some sort of animal.

“What did you do?” Yan signed.

“Look,” Sid said aloud, unable to move his arms because he was holding his cassock back. He closed his eyes for a second. Yan felt him use the power, and along the scratch of the line, black ink rose to the surface of his skin, where before it had been invisible.

“God, what did you do to yourself?” Yan signed. “That’s going to be on you forever?”

“Look!” Sid insisted, and he focused again with the power, and the ink disappeared.

“Even if you can make it go away, what did you even do?”

“I took a sewing needle from a clothing repair kit and some pen ink and did it to myself yesterday,” Sid signed, letting his sleeve flop back down to cover the angry red mark.

“Why were you doing that in the first place?”

Sid looked vaguely ashamed. “That’s not important, but it works as a proof of concept.”

“A proof of concept of what? Also it is important,” Yan insisted.

“Well, remember ages ago when I told you I wanted a tattoo that I could change whenever I wanted? We’re on a planet where everybody has tattoos, where’s a better place to get one?”

“Are you seriously telling me that you want to go out in disguise, in the middle of the night, and get me to hold your hand while you get your skull tattooed in some random shop? Are you serious?” Yan was repeating herself out of her sheer disbelief, though maybe she shouldn’t be surprised at any of Sid’s nonsense.

Sid nodded, his grin almost infectious. Yan was very wary of this entire concept, but Sid’s enthusiasm was convincing.

“Did you know,” Yan signed, changing the topic. “We’re going home a different route, stopping by Galena.”

“Even more reason to do this now, then,” Sid signed. “My mother hates tattoos, I can’t wait to show her.”

“This is the worst idea I’ve ever heard,” Yan said.

“Well, it’s my body, not yours, and I’m doing it. If you don’t want to come along, you don’t have to,” Sid signed, frowning.

“If you’re going to do it anyway, then I guess…” Yan said. She really would have preferred not to, but she did feel slightly protective of Sid. To be honest, if the situation were reversed and Yan had had some sort of similarly crazy idea, Sid probably would have gone along for her sake. Luckily, Yan was not quite so prone to crazy ideas.

“Great, change out of your fancy clothes, and I’ll get you one of these,” Sid signed, gestured at his cloak, then dashed to his hotel room.

Yan turned around with a sigh and went into her own room. She picked through her clothes to find her plainest cassock. She changed, leaving her shirt and pants the way they were, since they were invisible anyway. She left her fancy cloak draped over her bed with some regret. It was the most fashionable thing she got to wear, so it was a shame to have to leave it behind. Maybe she’d get to wear it more when winter really came down on Emerri. That would be nice.

Yan headed back out into the hallway, and Sid passed her the borrowed cloak. It was short on her. Sid gave her an appraising look.

“It’ll do,” he signed.

“I look like a tree in this. I don’t hate being tall, but I hate how nothing fits me,” Yan signed.

“So you’ll have cold ankles. Whatever, let’s go,” Sid signed.

“Can we at least get dinner first?” Yan asked.

“Let’s go back to to that market and get more of those tube cakes. Those were good.”

“That’s junk food,” Yan protested.

“And I’m a junk human, let’s go.”

Yan followed Sid down the stairs to the lobby. Iri was still there, talking to Lieutenant Harber. Yan waved at her to get her attention. Iri abandoned her conversation with Harber and came over.

“Sid and I are going out,” Yan said.

Behind her, she could practically feel Sid’s disdain for this process radiating off him. She glanced over her shoulder at him, his arms crossed. The look he gave her said ‘do you really have to get them involved?’ Yan turned back around and ignored him.

“Are you inviting me, or just warning me?” Iri asked.

“Well, you’d have someone follow us anyway, I’m sure, but I don’t think we want an entourage. We’re going low profile.”

“You won’t look low profile like that,” Harber called over. “You stand out as foreigners right away. No tattoos.”

“He’s right,” Iri said. “I can come with you, if you prefer to keep this a small affair.”

“Sure,” Yan said.

“But you know the Fleet car will be just a block away at all times.”

Yan frowned. “No privacy.”

“None at all.”

They did go to the market and have dinner. The place was still bustling, even at night, which surprised Yan. Most of the grocery vendors went home, and the outdoor section was barren except for the restaurant stalls. There was more food to choose from than just the fried dough that they had had the previous day, so Yan was able to buy a plate of grilled vegetables instead. Sid happily munched on his fried dough as Yan judged him. Yan wondered how well that would sit in his stomach as he got his whole skull tattooed, since he seemed intent on actually going through with it.

They had talked about it more over their dinner. Iri thought the whole thing was hilarious, and cautioned that it would probably take a long time and be excruciatingly painful. Sid just shrugged. He may have gotten a little paler as Iri launched into a discussion of just how many nerve endings were in the skull, but the lighting was bad, so Yan couldn’t really tell. He seemed prepared to go through with it, regardless.

“How are you going to even find a tattoo artist who’s willing to start a massive project on no notice in the middle of the night?” Yan asked

“I think we’ll just ask around. Enough charges solve most problems,” Sid signed. Yan couldn’t disagree with the second part of that; it was probably true that someone would be willing to do it for some price, but she didn’t fancy the idea of walking around through the cold night. It was snowing only lightly, but the wind was present as always.

They all purchased hot drinks to carry and sip as they wandered through the marketplace. It was warmer indoors where the more permanent shops were, and there were several tattoo places. Some of them were even surprisingly well populated, despite the late hour. The whole market was crowded. Every few stores seemed to have their own music system, pumping out noise. There were clubs that Yan hadn’t noticed before, lining the edges of the marketplace. It seemed as though they were competing with each other to have the most crazily spinning lights, loudest music, and wildest dancing. There was no want for customers. People walked around the place, talking, laughing, and buying things despite the late hour.

Though some of the normal stalls had closed for the night, that didn’t stop all business. Sid asked at several of the tattoo shops, starting off that he was willing to pay for a difficult job done immediately. He was rejected at a few, but at one place the guy running the desk shrugged and let him in to talk with the tattoo artist.

The artist in question was a petite woman, with rich brown skin and dyed red hair. Her face had the usual tattoos of Olar citizens, the circles coming off her forehead and ending just below her nose. The shop was quite warm, so she was wearing only a tank top that was a little too short. Her pants sat low on her hips. In the slip of space between her shirt and pants, there were overlapping tattoo lines, like the ripples caused when two rocks hit the surface of water. She was small, but it was clear that she was strong. Yan’s face grew hot as she looked at the woman, then tried to look away, unsuccessfully.

“So, Vance told me that some rich foreigner wanted something complicated done right away?” The woman said. “I see three foreigners here. Which one of you is the rich one?”

Iri laughed. “Not me. He’s the one you’re looking for.” She pointed at Sid, who smiled and waved.

“You sure look like an egg, don’tcha,” she said. “What are you looking for me to do?”

“I just want you to do my entire scalp, all black,” Sid said.

“And you need this done now, in the middle of the night, without an appointment? You’re wild.” She smiled anyway and reached out to shake Sid’s hand. “I’m Benna.”

“Sid.” Sid had his trademark grin out in full force.

“Got any other tattoos, Sid?”

Sid shook his head no.

“Are you sure you really want this? Are you sober? This is, actually, hey, kinda crazy. Little bit unethical to do something like this if I’m not certain you want it.” She seemed to be protesting without much conviction. It seemed that Sid’s promise of money was enough to get her to do anything. After all, if someone was willing to pay that much then they must really want it.

“I’m certain,” Sid said. “Don’t worry about it, I know what I’m in for and what I want.”

“Why?” Benna asked.

"I've wanted this for a long time, and everybody here has tattoos, and we're leaving the planet soon, so this seemed like the best time to do it."

"How long are we talking?" Benna asked.

"Years," Sid said.

"And you really just want the entire top of your head to be black? That isn't going to look like hair," she cautioned.

"I know. I don't want hair, I want to look more intimidating."

Benna rolled her eyes. "If the charges are good and you really want this, then I guess I won't refuse. You're a crazy rich kid, though. You two just along for the ride?"

"Moral support," Yan said.

"Yeah, he'll need it. Come on back." Benna led them into the back room, where a chair was set up. "You might all want to take off your coats, we keep it warm in here."

Everyone hung up their cloaks on a hook on the wall. Benna gave a long look at their cassocks, plain black though they were. She didn't ask about them.

"You in particular probably want that off, too. You're going to sweat," she directed Sid. Sid wiggled his cassock up off his head without unbuttoning it, and hung it up with their coats.

"I'm going to need payment up front for this one," Benna said, writing out a receipt. "Go take this up front and pay Vance while I set up."

Sid obediently took the receipt and went to pay. Yan caught a glimpse of the total as he headed out. It was a good thing that Sid didn't have many other expenses in life. Yan, despite the absurd amount of money that they were getting for their salaries, didn't think that this was the best financial decision. Perhaps that was just her prudish nature as a spacer talking, though.

Benna prepared the materials that she would need to work, wiping down surfaces with disinfectants, pulling out bottles of ink, and assembling an alarming looking machine.

"You two can go grab chairs, just pull some in from over there. If you're planning on staying to watch, anyway."

Yan went into the room next door and dragged in two stools. Yan let Iri deal with her own, but Yan stood awkwardly around waiting for Benna to tell her where she could sit.

"Waiting on a special invitation?" Benna asked, and Yan's face grew even hotter. In every unfamiliar situation, where Yan didn't know the rules of the engagement, she felt painfully awkward.

"I just didn't want to get in your way," Yan explained.

Benna laughed. "Well, if you're going to be holding his hand, set up right over here." She gestured to the area on the other side of the adjustable chair that Sid would be sitting on. Yan dragged her stool over and perched upon it, feeling rather like an ungainly bird. The stool was not designed for someone as tall as she was, but she made the best of it.

Sid came back in, still smiling.

"Well, first things first," Benna said. "Let me check if you're shaved alright." She walked over to Sid and he made a face as she rubbed her hand over the top of his head. "Heh, smooth as a baby's bottom."

"I shaved it earlier," Sid said, rolling his eyes. "I know how to keep my head clean."

"Great. Take a seat."

Sid hopped up onto the adjustable chair, flopping dramatically backwards.

"First thing I'm gonna do," she said, "is mark out the boundaries of where I'm going to put the ink, and then you tell me if that's what you want or not. Lean over here."

Sid obeyed, and Benna took a marker off the tray next to her and drew a line all around Sid's head, where she suspected his normal hairline would be. She had a handmirror on the tray also, and handed it to Sid so that he could check it. Yan watched this process with fascination, Iri was reading something on her phone, paying no attention.

"How does that look?"

Sid inspected himself in the mirror. "Could you make it smoother? Like, no ridges here, and just make it round at the back?" Sid touched areas where she had indicated the hint of sideburns, right above his ears. On the back of his head, right where his skull met his neck, he traced out a smooth curve.

"Sure. Going for a more geometric look. I get that." Benna adjusted the lines. "Like that?"

"Yeah, that's great."

"Alright. Well, if you're really sure about this, I'll disinfect you and we can get started."

"I am sure," Sid insisted. Benna put some disinfectant onto a sterile pad and started scrubbing at Sid's head. He rolled his eyes at Yan. Yan frowned at him.

"Well, laying down on your stomach will probably be your best bet," Benna said. She used some foot pedals at the bottom to set the chair in motion, adjusting it so that it was nearly completely horizontal.

"How long is this going to take?" Sid asked, flopping over onto his stomach and putting his arms underneath his chin.

"If you don't need any breaks, about four hours. If you're really leaving the planet soon, you'll want to get it done all at once, so I hope you won't need to stop."

"I won't," Sid said. Benna looked skeptical, but she went over to the sink, washed her hands, and donned a pair of gloves.

"Do you want earplugs? The machine is loud when I'm working right by your ears."

"No, I'm good," Sid said, smiling broadly.

"Let me know if you change your mind."

Yan wasn't going to speak up and reveal the fact that Sid was deaf, but it was pretty funny. Benna arranged herself on her own chair so she had best access to Sid's head. She held her machine in her right hand, had her left on Sid's head and a wipe cloth, and was stepping on a foot pedal. Her rolling tray of inks and implements was next to her.

"You ready?" She asked.

"As I'll ever be," Sid said.

Benna started up the machine, putting the needle down right in the center of Sid's head. He immediately tensed, but to his credit, didn't jerk his head out of the way. He couldn't really, with Benna's hand holding it.

"Damn," Sid swore, sucking in a breath. Iri and Yan gave eachother a look, Iri slightly shaking her head.

"Scalp tattoos hurt like a bitch, I'll give you that one," Benna said. "Keep still so I don't stab you too hard.

"I'm gonna close my eyes," Sid said. He did so, squeezing them shut. Benna kept on working on his head.

"So, where are you all from?" Benna asked, making conversation over the buzzing of the machine.

"We all live on Emerri, but he's from Galena, originally," Yan said.

"Galena, eh? What brings you here, Galena boy?" Benna asked.

"Business," Yan answered for him, as Sid didn't even know that Benna was asking a question because his eyes were closed. Benna gave her an odd look.

"Don't want him answering?" She asked.

"No, he just can't hear you," Yan explained. "He reads what you say on his glasses, and he closed his eyes."

"Interesting," Benna said. "Well, I guess you'll have to content me as a conversation partner, since she's clearly just reading a book over there." Benna nodded back at Iri, who was only half paying attention to the conversation. "What's your name?"

"Yan, Yan BarCarran."

"And what type of business do you do, Ms. BarCarran?"

"Uh, politics," Yan said.

"Gross," Benna said. "I pay as little attention to that as possible."

The conversation flowed smoothly from there. They sat for hours. Yan occasionally held Sid's hand, and Sid occasionally opened his eyes and talked as well, gritting his teeth through the pain. Benna worked the pure blackwork out across Sid's scalp, moving in ever expanding circles. They took a few breaks for one or both of them to stretch and get drinks of water. It was tedious work, but it required intense concentration and skill to keep the needle at just the right depth and angle.

Through it all, Yan hoped that Sid was getting what he wanted out of this.

At the end, Sid did have a pitch black scalp. It was swollen, bleeding, and raw, but it was done. It completely altered his appearance; where before he had been an egg, Sid was sharper and more... Yan didn't want to say sinister, but it certainly gave him a different feeling altogether.

They bid goodbye to Benna, thanked her for her work, and walked back to the waiting car. Sid complained bitterly the entire way about the feeling of the cold air on his head. Too bad his skin was too raw to wear a hat. He really was an idiot.