The sides and top of the tram had large glass panels that allowed its occupants to see out into the rest of the Mercantile as it followed its winding rail system towards its destination.

Val was still trying to avoid eye contact with any other passengers, but he watched Ten as she stared upward with an open mouth. It was hard to remember that, despite being a native to Spectra, she was still just as inexperienced as he was in matters off-world from Jantii. The Mercantile was no exception—everything on this station was new to her, its sights and wonders never yet beheld by her eyes.

Prag hadn't exaggerated when he'd described the Mercantile as a city in space. There were buildings and skyscrapers stretching high above the ground, streets and parks where small children played in fountains. There were apartment complexes and shopping outlets, wide alleyways that formed makeshift markets you could walk through ...

"It's incredible," Ten breathed, completely enraptured in everything she saw.

Note gave a small huff. "Don't get your hopes up, not all of the districts are going to be like this. For every penthouse in this place, there's two slums." She gave a small nod towards Val. "Had to build this body in a backstreet alley over in the Dolgot district. The rich pay well for their residential areas around here to be kept nice and clean, so that was the only place I was able to work without being detected."

"You sure know a lot about this place," he remarked, impressed.

She shrugged. "You tend to learn a lot when you don't have anywhere else to go."

"How long were you stranded here?"

"As long as you were living on Jantii."

He winced. "Two years ... damn. Had I known where you were—"

"I'm not asking for an apology," she said with a chuckle. "It wasn't your fault, I couldn't blame you for that." She gave him a playful punch on his shoulder. "Don't think you'll get rid of me so easily a second time, though."

He smiled. "Wouldn't dream of it."

Note was an oddity. Despite only having met her within the last day, he was beginning to feel as comfortable talking to her as he was with Ten. He found himself less on-guard around her, his words slipping out of his mouth rather than having to be pushed. There was a sort of inherent familiarity that came from knowing their mysterious origins were intertwined.

It was funny. Neither of them knew where they came from, but maybe they'd be able to figure it out together.

"Now arriving at Straxe Plaza."

The tram began to slow as it approached the station ahead. They and the other disembarking occupants lined up against the doors, waited for the vehicle to come to a complete stop, then stepped off as the doors slid open. Walking out into the plaza for the first time, Val found himself mirroring Ten's earlier expression.

The Mercantile was designed as a colossal cylinder, so the ground eventually began to curve up and around. At eight kilometers in diameter and thirty in length, this meant that the interior of the mercantile was essentially a massive tube. From here, they could see other districts and buildings on the side opposite them, seemingly hanging upside down from their perspective. In the center of the tube was an enormous airspace, one filled with traffic from personal shuttles and ships traveling from one side of the station to the other—

"Would you two quit gawking at everything?" Note snapped suddenly, bringing both him and Ten out of their awe-induced trance. "You're gonna make us stick out more than we already do."

Meekly heeding her warning, they quickly followed her down a path leading away from the tram's boarding platform. Val glanced at the synthoid from the side of his vision. "Sorry about that."

"We need to be more careful," Note reiterated quietly. "There's no one else in the galaxy that looks like us, so we're already prone to draw attention. Possibly the wrong attention."

"You're right," he agreed sheepishly. "Let's just grab what we need and get out of here."

She nodded. "There's a commerce exchange center up ahead. We can use its communication terminals to withdraw the credits we'll need."

They continued down the walkway for another fifty meters or so before arriving at the destination Note had indicated. It was a tall and wide building with a large sign over it emblazoned with holographic lettering that read, Penn's Pecuniary.

"This doesn't look like an official commerce exchange," Ten noted, narrowing her eyes.

"It's not," Note confirmed. "And as a third party business, they're probably going to take a good two to three percent of whatever you withdraw. But it's a better way to stay off the grid than marching right into an official commerce center."

Ten still looked uncertain, but noticeably less so. With nothing else keeping them, the trio pulled open the doors and entered.

"Hello, hello!"

It seemed like someone had been waiting to greet them the instant they'd arrived. Approaching them was a short, squab-like creature with attentive eyes and reddish skin, as though it had been left out in the sun for too long. What he could see of its face was beaded, covered in small bean-sized bumps like the skin of a lizard. A circular crown of quaint, nub-like horns sat atop its head, giving it an impish appearance. It was dressed in a neat, formal looking suit, and flashed them a smile of many pointed teeth as it waved at them.

"Welcome to my establishment!" it said, gesturing towards the rest of the building. "May I interest you in—"

The little alien suddenly took notice of Val. "Why, I don't believe I've ever seen anything quite like you before! What might you be?"

"Er ... human," Val answered truthfully.

"Never heard of such a thing. Ah well, new races do tend to wash ashore the galaxy's beaches, so to speak," the creature remarked. It then gave a once-over of Note and Ten. "And you're with a synthoid and an irvagaleni ... truly an odd congregation you have here, but I don't mean to pry. I'm Penn—may I enquire as to the nature of your business here today?"

"I'd just like to make a withdrawal," Ten answered, stepping forward. "I can use your terminals to access Spec-Net, right?"

"Of course, of course," Penn confirmed, waving his arm towards a back wall with a large line of machines adorning it. "Though, any withdrawal made here from a non-local account will incur a two point six percent fee for handling the transaction. If you'd like, I can begin setting up an account for you through our own banking—"

"That's alright," Ten cut in. "I'm not interested in opening an account, just the withdrawal will be fine."

Penn gave a small bow. "Of course, my good lady. Any open terminal is yours, and feel free to ask me any questions if you three require assistance!"

With that, Penn hobbled away. Val blinked a few times, surprised by the interaction. "I think that's just about the least hostile impression I've had with anyone so far."

"He's a pyke," Ten explained. "Very smart, and very shrewd. They're great business partners, and usually nice enough to deal with."

"Usually?"

"Let's just say that if you ever get on one's bad side, they can make things very difficult for you. As long as you don't wrong them, you've got nothing to worry about."

"Focus up," Note interrupted. "You two find a terminal and get what you need, I've got another task to worry about."

Without waiting around to give an explanation, she walked over to another terminal and set herself to work on whatever her secret task was. Shrugging, Val made his way over to an empty station on the far side of the building with Ten at his side.

Its screen flickered to life in their presence, and boasted a bright image of a white background with a simplistic menu from which to conduct their business. Ten apparently knew what to do well enough. Darting from selection to selection, she managed to navigate her way onto a list of other service providers and found what she was looking for. A new menu asked for her credentials, and she was quick to input them. The terminal took a few seconds to process the query, then successfully displayed the details of her account.

Val's eyes bulged slightly at the figures he saw. "You weren't kidding."

Ten shook her head. "Okinlas sell for a fortune, and we've had quite a few years to harvest them. More people would probably choose to make a living off of growing them if it wasn't so insanely difficult."

He chuckled. "I can see why. With that much money, you're pretty much set for life."

"You mean we're set for life."

"Huh?"

"You don't actually think I'm going to keep this all to myself, do you?" She nudged him with her shoulder. "You said it yourself, we're in this together."

"Ten, you don't have to—"

"Val, don't even start."

Her generosity wasn't lost on him, and he simply made a small nod as he swallowed hard. Satisfied, Ten turned back to the machine and input a few more commands. After several seconds, the screen flashed the words "THANK YOU", and something fell into a small tray in the front of the machine. Reaching into it, Ten pulled out two thin cartridges with strips of holographic plastic wrapped around them lengthwise, and gave a triumphant expression.

"Alright, we're set. Where's Note?"

"Right here," the AI suddenly called, as if summoned by the mention of her name. She sauntered over to them and looked at the irva. "You got the credits?"

Ten held up the cartridges. "Right here. One for down payment, and one for incentive to stick around."

Note nodded in agreement. "Smart, and a good thing too—I found a guy, and he doesn't come cheap."

"That's what you were doing over there?" Val asked.

"Yeah, I needed to verify that he was the real deal. Every idiot with a gun on the shadow market claims to be the best freelancer around, so a bit of cross-referencing and research was required." She crossed her arms. "He's been doing this for nearly a decade—not as long as others have, but he's still plenty experienced—and he's earned himself something of a reputation in that time, so I feel safe in saying he's probably our best bet. I've already set up a meeting for us, it's not far from here."

At the very least, it sounded like Note had done her homework. Val gave her a shrug. "Well then, what are we waiting for? Lead the way."

"I take it back, this is a horrible idea."

They stood just inside the entrance of a rowdy cantina called The Golden Lantern. Despite its name, it was dimly lit and its upkeep standards were anything but golden. Loud and drunk customers shouted out from every corner, often swinging their bottles and tankards around as they did so. The floor was sticky and stained from spilled food and drinks, but no one in here seemed to mind, so maybe this behavior was just accepted as the norm here.

But they weren't here for entertainment. Their contact was sitting at an otherwise empty table with a drink in hand, three unoccupied seats set apart from the one he himself inhabited. He was a kugraw, one of the only races that Val actually knew a bit about from what Prag had told him. They were large, broad-shouldered, and covered in several-inch long quills all along their backs. How a kugraw felt often decided how their quills acted—if they were relaxed, or simply willed it to be, then the quills could lay flat against their bodies. But the moment any kugraw detected a hint of danger, their quills would stiffen and rise up, acting as a defense mechanism.

Their necks were angled forward slightly, causing their faces to jut out a bit on the end. And they were tough—their skin had a leathery texture to it and sported natural scale-like plating on various parts of their bodies. Their faces, for instance, were jagged and outlined entirely with hard, bony ridges. Their forearms were also dotted with similar, though smaller, bumps and protrusions that created a sort of cobbled appearance—Val imagined that most of their skin followed that same example.

Despite their outward physical appearances, the Kugraw were more or less the voice of peace and reason amongst the other galactic powers of Spectra, especially the Irvagaleni Empire. They were the original founders of the Hegemony, the largest overall governmental body in Spectra. From what Prag had told him, the Irvagaleni Empire was the largest single-species government, but the kugraws had a better military as well as backing and support from the other species allied with them.

But regardless of whether or not the race as a whole was generally peaceful, the one they were supposed to meet here looked anything but. He had a scar that ran over the right of his amber eyes, one that seemed to have taken a chunk out of his brow and marked the end of its trail right on his cheekbone. His gurkha-colored skin rippled with taut, well-defined muscles under its surface. He wore thick pauldrons on both shoulders, and a plate of silvery armor that was marred with more than a few marks from what appeared to be weapons fire over the front of his chest. It left his back uncovered, meaning that his quills were still available for use if he deemed them necessary. At the moment, he was setting down his drink and scanning the room with roaming eyes, evidently searching for the ones who were supposed to meet him here.

Whoever this kugraw was, he meant business.

Note gave a huff, her synthetic voice warbling ever so slightly in consternation as her optics glared at him. "We don't exactly have a lot of options at our disposal here, Val. People normally want to put as much distance between themselves and the Cell as they can, so it's a miracle this guy's even hearing us out as it is."

Val eyed their target warily. "I hear what you're saying, but I can't get over the fact that he looks like he could gut me without hesitation if I say something he doesn't like."

"Probably because he could. If he wanted to, of course."

"That's not helping," he snapped frustratedly, and she held her hands up in surrender.

"Just being honest! Look, are you going to talk to him or do I have to?"

He glanced back at the large kugraw apprehensively, but she could see a sliver of steel manifest in his eyes. "Alright, let's get this over with."

Val began to approach, and she and Ten hurriedly followed in his steps to keep from becoming separated in the chaos of the cantina. The kugraw apparently was already aware of their presence, and tracked their movement towards him. It seemed that even the mayhem of the other occupants around them was not enough to hide their physical uniqueness from a sharp eye.

Upon finally reaching the table, Val grabbed the chair opposite of the freelancer and pulled it out for himself to sit upon. Note and Ten followed his example and each pulled up a chair on either side of him.

"Anyone sitting here?" Val asked in a casual tone, though everyone knew the question was rhetorical. The kugraw gave a chuckle, his quills shaking slightly as he did so.

"Just one alien with a death wish."

Val's expression showed that he was very much taken aback by the answer, and Note inwardly cursed his lack of a good poker face. Leaning forward, his voice became lower. "I don't think threats are really necessary here."

The kugraw's claws gripped his glass and lifted it up to his mouth where he took a deep swig before returning it to the tabletop. "Not a threat, just the truth. Meeting someone from the shadow market isn't exactly the safest thing in the world, granted, but this comes across almost as suicidal. You let me pick the place, the time, and you let me get here first. I've had the opportunity to think, to plan—you never want to let anyone have that opportunity."

He eyed the three of them shrewdly. "If I wanted it right now, you'd already be dead."

Val forcefully swallowed at the bluntness of the freelancer's explanation. "But that's not the case here ... right?"

The kugraw narrowed his eyes ... then grinned and relaxed in his seat. "Right. It wouldn't exactly be good for my image if I started preying on idiots like yourself. That's just bad business." He nodded his head towards Val. "The name's Niles. And you are?"

"Val." He gestured to his companions. "This is Note and Ten."

He glanced over the trio from left to right, his interest apparently piqued. "So a synthoid, an irva, and an undocumented alien all walk into a bar ..." He snickered. "Usually, no one would risk doing something as stupid as what you've just done, so that tells me one of two things—either I'm overestimating you, and you really are that stupid, or you're desperate and afraid of something worse."

"In a sense," Note said, tapping her fingers on the table. "Did you hear about the Cell attack on Jantii?"

Niles' gaze snapped to her attentively. "Of course I did, so did damn near everyone on the station. We all got a good view of the Sentinels carving one of their ships apart too, good riddance." His expression changed as his mind made the connection, and he looked back at Val. "I'm guessing you're about to tell me you had something to do with that?"

"They were after us," Val revealed quietly. "They wanted to capture us."

Becoming aware that his glass was now empty, Niles grunted and threw it over his shoulder. A distant shatter could be heard a moment later. Leaning forward, he lowered his voice so that only they could hear him, then looked at Val dubiously. "And why would the Cell want you?"

Both Val and Note leaned in as well. "We're ... not sure," she admitted. "We woke up on one of their ships two years ago with no memories, no identity, and no clue as to where we were."

"We barely escaped with our lives," continued Val with no small amount of agitation at the memory. "I didn't think we'd have to deal with them again, but ... here we are. I have no idea why they need us—but whatever the reason, I'd rather not find out."

The kugraw tilted his head slightly, the quills attached to it quivering. "So what do you want me to do about it?"

"We need someone looking out for us," he replied. "Someone who knows how to stay off the radar, and how to fight if that becomes impossible."

Ten reached onto the table and slid one of the cartridges over to Niles. He picked it up, then placed it into a slot on what appeared to be a modified gaunt he wore over his forearm. After a moment, a holographic projection lit up and displayed 15,000 brightly.

"There's three times that much in store for you if you're willing to help us," Ten stated, holding the second cartridge up in the air tantalizingly. Surprisingly, he scoffed at it.

"Look, irva, I care about a fat paycheck as much as the next mercenary," the kugraw began with a previously absent tone of disdain, "but I think this might be a bit out of my area of expertise. To be honest, I'm not even sure you're right about any of this. If those genetic freaks are really becoming a problem, then the Sentinels will step in at some point—"

"We lost someone very close to us in that attack," Val said quietly. "We can't rely on the Sentinels to come and save us if we run into trouble, we need someone with us who can provide that support."