The combined smells
of Humans, dirt, a multitude of other species, fungus, mold, garbage and the general
funk of an area that had never seen a sun rose in a miasma so thick it was
almost as if he had to cut his way through it. It'd been a while since he'd
been down the Depths. He had always hoped the smell would become less
noticeable as he got used to it, but it hadn't, not so far.
He put up with it.
He had to. But that didn't mean he had to like it.
A turn. Up ahead a
busy intersection. Malik slowed, then slipped into a cross-passage, ducked
behind a pair of L'Taltons. Their feathery crests and round, plump bodies
effectively shielded him from view of anyone in the larger corridor he'd just
left—especially the pair of patrolling Connies in their grey uniforms that he'd
seen turn a corner and start his way.
Malik nodded at the
L'Taltons, who squawked a polite reply, and headed down a ramp that led from
LevFive into the less crowded—and more dangerous—LevSix.
"Mal! My
Hu-man! Come in, take load off! Whatcha got for me this beautiful day?"
The shop was a hole
gouged from rock on the broad Zeta Corridor of LevSix, sandwiched between an
around-the-chrono bar and an inter-species brothel. The proprietor was a
shorter than usual—meaning he came barely to Mal's waist—ginger-furred Bansnict
named Mrrrow-Gumg, who had delusions of being a five-star merchant even though
his shop barely rated a quarter star on its best day.
Not that it ever had
a best day, Malik thought as he looked at the sad collection of wares for sale.
Hand tools, obviously not of the highest quality polybdalloy, since many were
chipped and rusted from the everlasting humidity; MRIs, meals ready for
ingestion, the foil packs quite visibly resealed—Mal shuddered to think what
they might contain; ragged clothing with unimaginable stains, and piles of the
flotsam and jetsam thrown off from the collision of many cultures.
"Nothing for
you today, Mrrow. Looking for Tau the Silent. Seen him around the last few?"
Mrrow shook his
head, his wide ears widening further and standing taller. "Not for few.
What you want with skinny Hu-man boy? Not even good for eating." Mrrow
grinned, displaying a mouthful of sharp teeth, several of them alloy-plated. A
long pink tongue snaked out, wiped the corner of one of the Bansnict's green
eyes. "That boy trouble. Thief."
"And you're
not?"
Mrrow's grin
widened. "Merchant. Not same, most times." He gave the wiggle that,
in his species, passed for a shrug. "Some times, anyway."
"Well, if you
see Tau, telling him I'll buy him a meal at Dhamu's Place."
"That place not
good food, Mal! Wait." Mrrow reached into his shop—not difficult, as even
his diminutive arm could reach almost to the back wall—and pulled out a
selection of MRIs. "Here good food!"
"I don't think
so, Mrrow." Mal shook his head, grinned to offset the insult to the
Bansnict's wares, and strolled away.
Tau would get the
message. Tell a Bansnict, tell the System.
Flaming Core, he'd
probably beat Mal there.
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