The origin point on the trip was a place that Jalldrid had never been to before, which was rare these days. He and Bob were hunched over, looking out from the Bridges viewport at it with uncertainty. Bob asked after a moment, “What is it?”

Jalldird cleared his throat importantly, “Some sort of mining platform, I should guess. See that appendage over there? That is definitely from an ACE Blaster unit, commonly used in mining platforms to help clear away rock and debris in a mine.” The particular piece of equipment Jalldrid pointed out looked like a vast arm that hung out threateningly from the station, ready to crush anything that got close to its maw.

Bob continued to look out. “But this is a gas giant.” It was a statement.

Jalldrid cleared his throat again, “right. There is no solid mass hear that needs to be crushed in that manner.”

After another pause, Bob offered, “Maybe they use it as a simple grappling arm like you have on this ship now. I imagine there is a lot of processed Carbonite that will need to be maneuvered into position for the haul.”

“Maybe,” Jalldrid replied with a frown, “But why is there a load of processed carbonite coming from this type of mining station anyway? It’s not like they produced it here. Like you say, the platform is orbiting around a gas giant. They should be exporting the gases here, not metal, much less processed metal.”

The platform they were looking at was tiny compared to the station they came from. It looked old and dangly, kept in a weary orbit around a huge planet called Mirke. Looking at the platform from the bridge, it looked dark and foreboding. There was little activity to be seen on it.

“They must have gotten the shipment from a trade of their actual goods and now are reselling the carbonite.” Bob added hopefully, “Or maybe this was just a stopping point in the transportation of the goods.”

Jalldrid stood up, “Probably the former, eh? Who cares? We’ve got a load to pick up. What’s the ETA, Captain?”

Jerall was in the helm seat again and she called back, “I’ll have us at the receiving dock in 5 minutes.”

“Right, I’ll gather up the goonies.” He started for the upper deck and climbed up the causeway. Bob was close behind him. “You don’t want to stay here on the bridge?” he asked, looking back over his shoulder.

“I’d like to see the action.”

There was a short laugh form the helm, “You won’t get any action with him, I am the one who oversees the loading and unloading. All Jall does is get the docu-pads signed and smoozy up with the warehousemen.”

“I occasionally,” Jalldrid added, moving away from his sister, “Also make sure that the roto-engine remains stable and that the attachment is secure and other important things.”

He reached the upper deck and proceeded down the hallway banging on the two sealed hatchways near the back of the ship. “Time to get up guys, we’ll be there in five!” there were no sounds of reply from either hatch so he pounded again, harder. “Oi, get up you goonies, there is work to be done.”

One of the hatched opened quickly. A small creature crept out of it. “Galaxy, man. There is no need for that!” the figure said, annoyed. “I heard you the first time.”

Bob observed the creature, it was short and hairy and once it had properly extricated itself from the quarters it was clear it had four arms. The bottom pair of arms where shorty and stockier while the top two were limber and long. The creature did not wear a shirt, although Bob guessed it was from lack of personal hygiene rather than cultural traditions.

Jalldrid scowled, “Just remember what happened last time, okay Fallin? If you weren’t Rafel’s brother-in-law, I wouldn’t have taken you with us again. Get yourself dressed properly, wear a shirt at least. We are running a proper business here, not a freshman dormitory.”

Fallin shrugged with an apathetic smile and then climbed back into this hole to fetch a shirt. “Watch it bro!” Bob heard Rafel say from inside.

During the talk, the other hatchway had opened too, and out came two properly dressed guys. They huffed at the fresh air and one of them said, “Why can’t we have planned this out so that the origin wasn’t in the middle of the day. Huh? How are we supposed to get any sleep?” They were the same species as Jerall and Jalldrid and Bob had learned earlier that they were actual a pair of second cousins of sorts. The partner chuckled at his friend’s remarks.

“The rest of the world sleeps at night, you geniuses.” Jalldrid growled. But he handed a data pad to the first, “here are the stats of the load we are getting, please cross examine the dimensions when we arrive.” He handed a strange looking instrument to the other, “and you, please take the IRN reading when we arrive too. After we have those straightened, we’ll begin the loading procedure.”

Rafel had escaped his room and was in the hallway now; the only dressed in the uniform besides Bob. “You want the grapplers put on standby?” he asked, his arms folded.

Jalldrid shook his head, “No, we will not be needed them today.”

Immediately, the two cousins began groaning in complain. “Then why did we even bother with training on them if we weren’t going to use them?”

“You’ve got to learn them sometime; when else do you think you will get training on it?” Jalldrid growled poking back at the cousins, “Besides, you haven’t learned a thing yet anyway.”

“I thought I had done a decent job on it at least,” Fallin replied carelessly, leaning out of the hatch with only two arms. “They ain’t that difficult.”

“either way, we are not using them today. I’m told that they have a receiving dock large enough to hold this ship and the goods. We’ll just attach it directly to the renegade from there, just like the old days. Now guys,” he added, pointing his finger out at each one of them, “This is as simple and straightforward an assignment as they come. As you know we have with us here a citizen, let’s show him what a Hualing crew looks like on a haul and do an efficient and professional job here. There is no room for mistakes, you understand?”

It was clear that Jalldrid was looking for an energized response, but all he got was a mocking “hurrah!” from Fallin and halfhearted replies from everybody else. The two cousins looked at Bob suspiciously, not quite sure what to make of him.

“Just get to the lower deck and wait for our arrival.” Jalldird ended with resignation. “We’ll be there in a couple minutes.” With some grunting the cousins moved down the hallway with Fallin following behind, struggling to put on his shirt.

Rafel had stayed behind a bit. “I just want this to go smoothly,” Jalldrid practically pleaded, “there is no need for any mixup.”

With a grin, Rafel replied, “I’ll keep my brother in line; I can’t say much for your cousins though. You’ll have to trust your sister to manage them.” Rafel moved down towards the lower deck too.

After they left, Jalldrid groaned slightly.

“What’s wrong?” Bob asked.

At the words, Jalldrid straightened up suddenly. “Nothing!” he said with fake brightness, “This is going to be a great move! Now come with me, I’ll take you along on my process and you’ll get to see a little more of the platform with me.”

With that, Jalldrid motioned Bob with him and settled together in the galley. Over the intercom, the voice of the captain came through, “All crew, we’ll be landing imminently, prepare for set off.”

“Ah,” Jalldrid said, securing himself, “They must not have a roto set up to guide ships in.”

“Is that unusual?” Bob asked, mimicking Jalldird’s positioning.

“A little, having a roto set up to drag ships in is safer and easier than just trusting the pilot to navigate in smoothly. Every landing is different, with a variety of factors such as the force of gravity, density of the air and possible currents affecting the approach, so unless a pilot has a lot of experience, it would be difficult to land in a foreign area.” He added with a wink to Bob, “But don’t worry, the Captain can handle this with her eyes closed.”

A second later, the ship shuddered in expectation and then landed swiftly, jarring the contents and the persons on board. From the bridge, Jalldrid could faintly hear his sister laughing. “Now’s not the time to be showing off!” Jalldird said, wincing.

“That was a much more exciting landing than my landing at the station.” Bob commented lightly. Jalldrid just grumbled.

Upon landing, the doors at the back of the renegade opened noisily and the crew piled out, ready for some work. There were few people inside the bay area they were in milling about on their consuls, our just sitting around lazily.

Jalldrid clucked his tongue at he looked out across the bay. “So unprofessional,” he said, “it doesn’t even look like they have the goods prepared for us. Are we going to have to wait for them?”

He grabbed a passing dock worker and asked, “Hey, how come we have to wait for the goods? They should be ready to load upon our arrival.”

Annoyed, the worker shook him off and answered, “Cool your reactor man, it’s on the freight elevator now and will be here any minute.”

The worker left but Jalldrid still frowned, crossing his arms impatiently. Bob stood next to him uncomfortably and then asked, “Why do you need an IRN reading on the goods? Isn’t that figure given to you on your docu-pads?”

Jalldrid shifted, “Of course, all the specs on the shipment are given to us on the docu-pads, but I have found that there is often a small degree of error in the values.”

“Really? I thought that it was inter-sector law that hauling carries have precise specs for the goods they are hauling.”

Jalldrid raised an eyebrow, “You really must have done some research. But its fine, for the docu-pads the figures just need to be reasonable so that if we are stopped of the sector patrol the officers can know what king of cargo we have just at a glance. However, I want the exact figures from the IRN scan. A lot of carriers don’t bother with it, but if you adjust the roto-engine to match the exact figures of the cargo, you can increase the roto efficiency by 2-5%, depending on how off the docu-pads are. Those saving add up.”

Jalldrid looked around, “And speaking of the duco-pads, I need to get them from the Captain. Galaxy knows that she won’t get them properly imprinted.”

Jalldrid left and Bob remained standing where he was. None of the dock workers paid Bob any attention.

The loading bay they were in was much smaller than the bay in Arpeligo. Only two ships the size of the renegade or one big one could have fit in there. The font section where the ship entered through was clear for the most part. Random pieces of equipment lay scattered about; it looked like the bay also was used as a repair dock.

Bob was especially interested in the thin plasma like membrane that was stretched across the entrance that the renegade passed through. That membrane, Jalldrid had explained, was designed to only let only particles of a certain density pass through it. In other words, gasses and most liquids would be repelled by it like a wall, but something like a spaceship, would pass through it easily. It made Bob nervous to think that he would only have to pass his hand across it to reach the vacuum of outer space, but everybody else seemed to give it no care.

The interior of the bay was a mess, either from the platform being too busy to be able to organize the equipment and goods properly, or it was just never cleaned. Bob hoped it was the former and he looked out in disgust. The whine of the freight elevator could be heard and it was getting louder and louder as the goods approached the docking level. The workers started gathering around what he could only guess was the exit to the elevator.

The captain soon exited the ship and started barking orders at her crew merrily. Jalldrid exited behind her and came up Bob. He did not look as happy as the Captain was. “Let’s go,” he said gruffly, waving the docu-pads in front of him. “We are going to get some work done.” he sped off towards an exit marked, “Dispatch.”

Bob followed behind. “You don’t seem as happy as the Captain is?” He asked conversationally.

“Don’t know what you are talking about, Citizen,” Jalldrid replied, smacking the automatic door sensor when it didn’t open for him. “I am very happy.”

“I see.” Bob said. Jalldird smacked it again with a curse and the door opened with a woosh.

“I asked your sister this,” Bob continued, “But I’d also like to hear it from you. Why did you decide to start Freeline Transportation with Jerall?”

“She really wanted too,” Jalldrid replied without hesitation, “and she would have done it with or without me. However, I knew that if I didn’t join; she would ruin herself in no time. I’ve said this before, all she has is drive, no brains whatsoever.”

At least they were consistent, “You must really like your sister, to do all this for her.”

Jalldrid paused. “It’s not all that bad.” He conceded. “I admit there is a bit more… glamor in this than a job at the station or even as a crewman on one of the large companies under Asdred. Besides, she’s my family.”

Bob nodded. “What is the structure of education on the station, and how was yours different?”

“Whoa, that’s a turn in topic conversation,” Jalldird replied, turning a corner.

“Sorry, I was just thinking about a conversation I had with the Captain.” Bob replied apologetically.

Jalldird shrugged, “Arpeligo, and by Arpeligo, I mean Asdred because they are the owners/rulers of it, does offer public education. As virtually all of the occupants of the station work for Asdred in some form or another, it is in their own interest to raise the education for all the second class citizens there. However, it’s not mandatory and is only offers basic studies. Advanced learning there is vocational only.”

“But you went to a University elsewhere?”

Jalldrid nodded, “The University of Terarsis. It is rare for a native to the station to actually leave the station for additional education, but outside of Arpeligo, it’s not unusual.” He glanced over at Bob, “I don’t want you to think that all second class citizens are like my Sister or Rafel, or any of the other people you meet on this trip. You are visiting the lowest part of society where poverty and ignorance is bred. It’s not like there are only two castes here, the citizens and the second class. The second class has a wide range of people, from wealthy and educated to the opposite. The university I attended was filled with second class citizens.”

“What made your father decide to send you to school, if it is so unusual?”

Jalldrid frowned. They had walked down the dim and flickering hallways in a seeming endless path and now had reached a lobbyish area. There was man at the counter working and Jalldrid approached him asking, “Is the Dispatcher in? I’d like to go over the shipment with him and get the docu-pads imprinted.”

The man looked up from his seat slowly as if he could not believe he was getting interrupted. “Dispatcher?” he replied faintly.

“Yes,” Jalldrid replied forcefully, waving the docu-pads, “I need to get these imprinted.”

The man hesitated, and then got up from his seat, “I’ll go get my boss.” He stated, leaving the office.

“You do that.” Jalldrid called out after him. After the door shut, he turned to Bob, “I can’t believe this place. How can they not have the dispatcher on duty when we are here?”

Bob didn’t answer, but waited patiently. Jalldrid sighed, “Despite whatever my sister thinks, Dad was a great man. He wanted better for his children than what he had and he knew that the only way for that to happen was through higher education. He had meant to send Jerall to Terarsis, she was the oldest and he only had enough money to send one of us. She refused though and gave the opportunity to me instead so that I could go.”

“Why does your Sister seem to dislike your Dad so much, if it was through his efforts that you were able to go to university?”

Jalldrid held his hands up in surrender, “Don’t ask me to understand my Sister, she is a regular nut job. But Dad overworked himself for Asdred, and that’s partly why he died five years ago. She can’t forgive him for that it seems, even if it meant that is how Freeline was able to function. Perhaps she feels guilty? I don’t know. But don’t let her fool you; she has a great deal of affection for our Dad.”

“Is that so?” Bob replied dryly. “She didn’t seem to show any of that earlier.”

Jalldrid shrugged, “that’s just the way she is.” Bob nodded in understanding. The office was quiet except for the humming of a processor in the corner. “I want to ask you,” Jalldird spoke suddenly, “Why you decided to actually come with us. I saw how suspicious you were at first, and that’s actually quite reasonable on your part. I was half convinced you wouldn’t show up this morning.”

Bob smiled slyly back, “and perhaps you would have been quietly relieved if I hadn’t come?” Jalldrid didn’t respond so Bob continued, “Like I said, I did some research last night and I found something interesting. I believe it was it was called Section 17?”

At his words, Jalldrid closed his eyes and let out a soft groan. Bob laughed back, “Section 17 allows any citizen to order any interstellar ship around that they are on regardless of any circumstances, correct? With such a convenient rule at my disposal, I am not surprised that most interstellar shipping companies avoid having citizens on their ship’s at all costs. I realized just how much you were risking by just having me aboard and that proved your sincerity towards me.” Jalldrid remained silent and Bob laughed again while slapping him on the shoulder, “Don’t worry, I don’t plan on interfering with your operation at all. But you know,” Bob continued mischievously, “If I’m not treated the way I want, I might just do something…” he laughed again.

Before Jalldrid could reply, the door opened again and in stepped a huge and tough looking man with his lackey behind him. Bob would have thought the man was all brawn, except for the clever looks in his eyes. “What’s the problem?” he demanded.

“No problem,” Jalldrid replied, suddenly polite. He still looked slightly shaken though. “I just want to get these docu-pads imprinted and perhaps go over a few details of the shipment with you.”

The boss glared down a Jerall and repeated incredulously, “Imprinted.”

“Yes,” Jalldrid replied lightly, “I want to get paid for this move, don’t I?”

The man scowled and then snatched the docu-pads from Jerall’s outstretched hand. His lackey went back to work, paying them no mind. The Boss asked as he looked over them, “What questions do you have? This looks like a pretty straightforward move. Processed Carbonite, yes? Being delivered to a receiving dock in Carthis? Standard load size, your ship should be able to handle it.” He put them down roughly, “What do you want?”

“Well,” Jalldrid said, peering over at the docu-pads in the man’s hands, “I noticed some of the details were missing that should be filled out. I want the pickup and loading dates entered, I see those are missing. Some of the liability wording is mixed up as well, it looks like it was just copied from another form but it doesn’t fit with this kind of load. Lastly, the origin address is in there, but I don’t actually have a name for this organization. I was wondering if I could have all this fixed here. Oh,” he added as an after though, pointed down at the pads, “The owner of the goods isn’t listed as well, that should be there as well. It has all sorts of problems! We can’t be expected to work with docu-pads like this.”

The boss said shortly, “I don’t have time for this.” He tried to give the docu-pads back.

“But,” Jalldrid said, taken aback. “This is your job! I need these imprinted.”

“Fine,” he snapped. He took them back and walked away to the other side of the room.

“What are you doing?” Jalldrid cried.

“You wanted these imprinted, so I am imprinting them! Shut up!” It looked like he was hooking up the docu-pads to a data processor.

But…” Jalldrid said, not finishing his sentence. He looked out at the boss, apparently ill at ease.

“What’s the problem?” Bob whispered to him.

“He just needs to put his thumb on the pad and it will imprint it on it. I don’t understand what he’s trying to do.”

A second later he returned with the docu-pads, “Here you go. Now get out of here.”

Jalldird took them, but asked faintly, “What about the other issues…?”

The Boss gave him one last look as if Jerall was a particular nasty bug and left without a word. Jalldrid watched him leave in apparent disbelief.

“Hey,” Bob said, tugging on Jalldrid’s shirt, “Let’s go, you’re not going to get any more out of these people. Let’s get back.”

“I.. I just can’t believe it.” Jalldrid said, letting himself get led away by Bob. “This hardly seems like a professional operation. Getting docu-pads work wrong isn’t uncommon, but most places will fix it for you. I’ve never had a dispatch treat me with such disrespect!”

“Not everything can operate as smoothly as you would like it too.” Bob said diplomatically, “As you said earlier, you sometimes have to work with some lesser quality people in this job.”

“Yes, but this goes beyond that,” Jalldrid replied, looking down at the Docu-pads in his hands. “I mean all companies that work with DRIAS all operate with some sort of standard. I don’t know how this agency was able to become qualified to work with DRIAS, but I can tell that if they don’t fix thing up soon, they will be tossed out of DRIAS on their next inspection.”

Bob peered over at the docu-pads, “Are they imprinted properly?”

“I guess so. I just don’t understand what the dispatcher was doing.” He looked up and shook his head, “Let’s just load up and get out of here, I don’t like the feel of this place.”

They exited the hallway through the door again. It didn’t open automatically like it should have again and Bob pounded the sensor to open it again.

Upon entering, Jalldrid gasped, “What in the galaxy…?” He sprinted ahead of Bob and caught up with Fallin. “What is the meaning of this? Why were the goods put into Valahide?!”

Fallin shrinked away defensively, “Don’t ask me. It was prepared that way by these guys.”

Jalldrid looked back at the load in astonishment. “What?”

Bob couldn’t see what Jalldrid was so excited about. The load of goods was unmistakably in the center of the dock now, Jerall and the Cousins were prepping the load. Bob couldn’t see the processed carbonite though; the whole load was presumably inside the huge grey container.

Bob caught up to Jalldrid, “What are you so excited about?”

“That’s a Valahide container,” Jalldrid explained practically jumping in agitation, “That kind of container is generally used to move delicate or especially valuable goods because the Valahide provides a whole other level of production. It is especially good in moving food items, as it gives protection from radiation and other potential threats during interstellar travel. But it is expensive and there is no need for it on this load. It’s just processed Carbonite.”

He moved away again to accost a dock worker and complain about the Valahide and how it wasn’t even in the docu-pad details. Bob let him go and instead followed Fallin back to Jerall. Fallin grumbled slightly, “Don’t know what’s his problem, he doesn’t need to bag such a deal out of it.”

Sensing Bob’s approach, Jerall looked up and waived, “Citizen, How did it go?”

“We got the docu-pads imprinted, so good I guess.” Bob replied evasively. “How did the loading go.”

“It’s was pretty simple,” Jerall replied brightly, “It was already nicely packaged for us, it was mainly just a matter of positioning at this point. We are just waiting on getting the Roto-Engine hooked up to it now. In fact, it should have been done by now. Rafel,” she started, talking into a comlick on her wrist, “What’s the hold up?”

“Sorry Captain,” Rafel answered back, his voice crackling through the receiver, “the IRN figures were off significantly from the docu-pads. Pretty shoddy work if you ask me, I’ve got no idea where they got their figures from. It’s like we are hauling a completely different type of cargo than what they scanned.”

“Or they just messed up their scan” Jerall replied back.

“Possibly. I had Fallin perform another scan and to make sure it wasn’t us who messed up. But we were right, it will take another couple of minutes before I can reconfigure the roto engine to the correct settings.”

“Understood,” She replied back into the comlink, “Inform me when you are ready to go.”

“How come they packaged up the goods for you in Valahide?” Bob asked in place of Jalldrid.

“We aren’t paying for it so why do we care?” she said with a laugh. “The owner of the goods probably just wants to make sure his cargo is safe. It doesn’t affect us at all, so don’t worry.”

“Jalldrid’s pretty upset about it,” Bob said looking back at him. He was currently shouting something and waving the docu-pads in front of a worker who looked like he was trying to escape.

“Everything upsets my brother.”

Bob turned back, “How would this shipment be hauled normally, if it wasn’t put into Valahide?”

“For Processed Carbonite,” Jerall said, “We wouldn’t put it in anything. We would just hook up the raw materials to the roto-engine and go. There is no need for anything else.”

Her wrist link chirped, “Ready over here Captain.”

“Do it.”

It looked to Bob that the whole back end of the renegade exploded in a flash of blue light. Bob yelped in surprise and stepped back, but no inferno enveloped him. Looking closely, Bob saw light slowly condense from a wide field to a much smaller scale and slowly wrap itself around the Valahide container like and amoeba.

“It’s beautiful.” Bob said, mesmerized by the light.

Jerall smirked, “I guess it is. It’s not supposed to look like that through. The new style Roto-Engines don’t produce any light at all, but we like ours the way it is.”

Jalldrid came up to them shaking his head. “I just don’t understand this place.” He said, sounding exasperated, “There is no clear management structure, I can’t get a hold of anybody who would know or be able to do anything about this. Nobody seems to know why the shipment is in Valahide. Don’t they know how expensive that stuff is? How can a dock run itself like this?”

“Don’t sweat it.” The Captain said, slapping her brother on his back, “We are set and loaded, the Roto-engine’s running smoothly. We are ready to get out of here and deliver this load!”

She stepped forward and shouted out at her crew, “Alright, everybody on board in five minutes or we will leave without you!”

Bob commented to Jalldrid, “For a straightforward shipment, there seems to be a lot of strange things.”

“Tell me about it,” Jalldrid groaned back. Together, they boarded the ship again. Within minutes, the ship shuddered and lifted off the dock slowly, the goods lifting off with them. After a brief delay, the renegade shot off, turning on the heavy engine and escaping from the planet Mirke