Chapter 6

Regin shrugged his shoulders, drawing his coat closer around his neck. The rain sluiced down in rivulets, collecting in puddles at his feet as it rolled off his waterproof clothing. Thank goodness it was waterproof! It was miserable enough as it was. His hat was pulled down low on his forehead; to not only protect him from the elements, but to reduce the risk of anyone recognising him.

He pushed his hands deeper into his pockets against the night chill and glanced up and down the narrow street again. Still no sign. He would give it another few minutes and then leave. He had no intention on wasting the entire night out here in the cold. As he dripped silently in the darkness, his thoughts wandered.

This was such a far change from his childhood on X-bar. Although as far as a healthy lifestyle was concerned, he probably couldn't have asked for better. Clean air, basic food, fresh water, sunshine and lots of hard physical work kept him fit and healthy. Even after leaving he had maintained his fitness, the thought of letting himself go and looking like some of the wealthier inhabitants of the planets he had visited made his stomach roil. He would never let himself get like that he vowed. So everyday he tried to keep to a strict regime of exercise, and at the moment, he also had youth on his side - and good looks. He was not vain, but he had learnt early on that those looks could get him what he wanted. He had learnt to cultivate his smile, and his charm and it had got him out of more than one sticky situation. He had become quite an accomplished actor really. He was still alive at least.

So, yes, X-bar had had its good points and had left its mark on his way of thinking but he was not sorry to have gone. Not once his mother had died. He grimaced at the thought. He had loved his mother dearly. For so long it had only been just the two of them. His father had deserted them a long time before when he was just a child, and his grandfather had died not too many years after. Ushton had lived to quite a good age, so Regin could not feel sorry for him, but it had been sad all the same.

His mother had been such a fantastic person. She and his grandfather had been responsible for the survival of the inhabitants of X-bar – he had heard the story told many times as he was growing up. His mother wasn't afraid of hard work and she had thrived on the tough conditions they had lived with. And his father had given her a few happy years before he left; he could acknowledge that to himself now.

Even after, when his father had gone, his mother had simply got on with things, looking after her father and raising her son. They had all done well together. Then she had got sick. It had been so unusual that Regin hadn't realised just how ill she was. He could hardly remember her ever having been sick – a cough now and then but nothing more. But this time the cough didn't go away and progressively got worse. Then her vision began to cloud and a fever set in. Others tried to help but they could do nothing. Her decline had been rapid after that. Always very lean and angular, she soon looked like a skeleton as the flesh seemed to melt from her bones. She was rarely conscious, and then was delirious. She slipped into a coma for a week and then, just died.

He still didn't know what had killed her, and he regretted that the last few years they had shared seemed to have been spent in arguing frequently – always about his father. He now wished he had held his tongue and kept his thoughts to himself.

He rolled his shoulders again. There was no point in wishing that now. What's done is done, and it won't bring her back. Ironic though, that it was his mother's death that provided the momentum for him to finally do what he had been threatening to do for years – leave X-bar. His mother had saved quite a substantial sum of credits, not enough to make him wealthy but enough for him to get off-planet. He had done very well on the Federation schooling system, one of the first innovations that his mother had insisted on, so he decided to continue with his studies. He was by no means a genius, nor a natural academic, but he had enjoyed what he was learning, studied hard for the most part and achieved fairly good results.

He enrolled in the flight academy and became fairly proficient and soon joined a small independent commercial space-line. It took two years of work to be able to qualify as an independent pilot but he had done it. Once he had his ticket and his own ship he could then begin to do other things; he could fit in the odd 'extra' flight in his schedule. A little smuggling on the side never hurt anyone, and he enjoyed the extra credits. He was able to maintain a very comfortable living now.

His conscious sometimes bothered him for two reasons. One, he wasn't sure his mother would have approved; secondly, that his father would see it as following in his footsteps by being the rebel. Neither appealed to him, he was definitely no rebel. The Federation may be corrupt but he had no wish to die an inglorious death for ideals he didn't believe in. It was a fight no-one could win and more had died proving that than anyone cared to remember - his father included. He found the few rebels he had accidentally met (and he had generally done his best not to associate with any) had been too passionate, too involved, too fanatical. The 'cause' was all that mattered to them, and they couldn't understand why it didn't to others like himself. He wanted none of that. It reminded him of his father. But he wasn't above doing a few things on the side, and if those things quirked the nose of the Federation, all well and good.

This was one of those things. He said he would meet a contact here, a person who had access to Federation data banks. A person who could gather information on all sorts of things, and would be willing to pass it on - for a price. What Regin wanted information on was important objects, articles or items. Things that the Federation wanted or had, but others would pay higher to stop them having.

Saleable items, there were always things like that around; new weapons, new technology, new ideas. He wanted to find them and sell them. Even if they went to someone who had ideals like the Federation it wouldn't stop him. They would spend so much time fighting the Federation to wrest the power from them, that the Federation would be too busy to bother the rest of them. Perhaps they would ease off on the suppressant push. He had been to a few of the suppressed planets, seen the walking zombies with no mind of their own, and no will. The blankness in their eyes unnerved him, they truly did seem dead. His greatest fear was that one day he, too, would be like that. He shivered, and not just from the cold. If he had any opportunity to do so he would make certain he would not become like them. He would rather blow his own brains out.

He glanced around him again, and let out a soft sigh. It looked like he had been on a wild goose chase after all. Oh, well, back to the ship, at least he could get warm there. He began to turn away when the scuff of a boot on concrete made him halt. He slowly turned back and made out a dark shadow creeping down the street, hugging the shadows as it went. Regin stayed where he was and waited. Soon the man reached him, small and unremarkable.

"It's wet out tonight." he muttered, shrugging his shoulder deeper into his thin jacket.

"What have you got for me?" Regin asked bluntly. He had been standing in the rain for far too long for polite conversation.

The man looked slyly up at him, hands dug deep in his pockets. "What have you got for me?" he countered.

Regin kept his eyes on the man's face and hands. He was certain he had a gun hidden away and wondered if he would try to shoot him once he had the payment. Slowly he withdrew from his own pocket a large purse. The clink of the credits made the little man's eyes light up and he let out a soft "Ah". He held out his hand to take it, but Regin moved it out of reach.

"The merchandise." he said firmly. The little man hurriedly withdrew a couple of disks from his own pocket and proffered them to Regin, who took them. He withdrew a small viewer and inserted the first of the disks, always keeping an eye on the man before him, who hungrily watched the full purse. The first disk scanned correctly with no viruses indicated. Taking no chances, Regin inserted the second and waited for verification. It, too, was fine. When it did he slipped both disks and viewer back into his pocket. He would go over it more thoroughly back at the ship. He then held out the purse and it was snatched greedily from his grasp. The elation on the man's face unnerved Regin, until he took a closer look at the face before him. The overbright eyes, and glazed sheen to the face then told him the reason for the eagerness. Here was an addict - a Moondust addict. That purse of credits wouldn't last him long.

The little man clutched the purse tightly to his chest as though afraid Regin would try to take it back. He smiled up at him, teeth gleaming in the dim light. "Nice doing business with you." he said mockingly and slowly backed away, keeping a wary eye on Regin.

Regin watched him go, making no move to leave himself. The man was twitchy enough to shoot at any move he did make, no matter how innocent. So he stood there in the rain and waited till the man had disappeared completely into the night. Only then did he turn his back also and make his careful way back to his ship.

Once inside its security he let out a deep breath and thankfully shed his dripping cloak and hat. Sodden boots soon followed as did the rest of his clothing. His skin was cold and clammy from the moisture build up and he hurriedly made his way to his quarters and a warm shower. He luxuriated in the warmth and dressed into clean, dry clothes. His wet clothing went into the laundry chute for cleaning and drying, once he had removed the disks. Back on the flight deck he put the first of the disks in and began to scan it, letting the computer categorise the information into the various parameters he had pre-set in it. Every so often he would pause it to read bits but refrained from doing it too much. Once the first disk was done he repeated the process with the second.

He found himself dozing as it was working and shook himself awake. He pulled himself to his feet and went to his meagre galley. He grabbed a heat seal pack and read the label, 'chicken dinner'. Humph, he thought, chickens hadn't existed for a good many centuries, all the meat was grown in protein vats for distribution, but they still insisted on calling it by the old names. He broke the seal and immediately felt the tiny element give out a burst of heat and steam issued forth as he removed the lid. Who cared anyway what it was called, he thought, as he scooped a mouthful in; it still smelt and tasted good. The warm food filled a void that he hadn't fully been aware of before now but after the first mouthful, a second, third and so on soon followed. Half way through he slowed his rapid eating as he began to fill up and managed to finish the meal at a more leisurely pace. He sat back satisfied and sipped his coffee. He found himself smothering more than one yawn. Enough, he thought, and made his way back to the flight deck. The computer had finished its job and so he switched everything off and made his way to his quarters. The bed was soft and inviting and thankfully he closed his eyes. It had been a long day.

"What a day!" Kerran said, throwing herself into a chair and leaning her head back with a sigh.

"I ache all over." Zev moaned as he too lowered himself down gingerly.

Kerran opened her eyes to look at him. "Serves you right for trying to show off." she told him tartly.

"I wasn't!" he said indignantly.

Kerran closed her eyes again. "Oh, come on, Zev. You've been trying to impress Veril from the time you met her."

"I…" he broke off the lie when seeing her fix him with a steely gaze. He couldn't continue the lie so he just shrugged. "Doesn't seem to be working." he muttered under his breath, wincing again at his sore muscles.

He closed his eyes and rubbed his stiff neck and then jumped with surprise to feel other hands take over. He turned his head to see Kerran standing there behind him, fingers expertly releasing tensed muscles. He hadn't heard her approach.

"Relax," she said. "I don't bite." And then gave him a feral grin as though to belie that last statement. But he did as she bade for she certainly knew what she was doing and he could feel his muscles relaxing under her ministrations.

"Have you ever thought that you're going about it the wrong way?" she said abruptly.

"Huh?" he asked startled out of a half trance.

"Veril," she replied, indicating they had returned to the conversation they had been having before.

"How do you mean?" he asked, interested.

"Well," she said. "I'm not saying I know how Veril thinks and feels but I do know her a bit better than you, and being a female also I think I do have a little more insight."

"So what do you suggest?"

She was silent for a moment before speaking. "I think you should just be yourself."

"I am."

"No, without all the attempts to catch her attention. Just be yourself, talk to her normally, like you would to anyone. Ask her opinions when you need them and listen to her advice when you should. Don't go out of your way to defer to her every statement. That makes it seem like you're patronising her."

"She prefers Calan's company." Zev replied, and was surprised himself at how bitterly that came out.

Kerran's bright laugh made him swing around to face her in surprise. She smiled down at him, mirth in her eyes and shook her head at his seeming stupidity. She reached out a hand and cupped his cheek.

"Oh, Zev, she is no more interested in Calan in that way than I am - and I have more cause to be so than anyone." She was referring to the soul bonding between then, and attraction, a pull that was unarguably there and impossible to break. She was right. If anyone was going to partner Calan it would be her.

"But," he said with a frown. "She spends so much time with him. She seems to believe in his views of the rebellion, on the Federation, everything!"

She cocked her head to one side and looked at him "Don't we all? To a point?"

Zev shrugged. "I suppose." he admitted grudgingly.

"I think you're seeing more there than there is. She spends time with Calan simply because that's how circumstances have been, and he also takes the time to sit down and have conversations with her. Most of the time you and I have been too busy."

"Maybe."

"Look," she said, moving to perch on the console next to him. "Why don't you just try talking to her more, see what happens? If you really think it's necessary, which I don't believe it is, but if you really want I'll keep Calan occupied elsewhere. How about it?"

Zev looked up at her. "You'd do that for me?"

"I don't like seeing anyone upset, and you're going to do yourself an injury if you keep going like this."

"Okay, if you can just keep Calan away."

She nodded. "Done. But," and the tone in her voice made him sit up straighter. "if you hurt her, you'll answer to me." She looked him right in the eyes as she said this and he was in no doubt she meant it. She was not so melodramatic as to say she would kill him. She wouldn't, he knew that. But she could, and would, make him very, very sorry. She would probably make his life so miserable that he would wish she had killed him!

He reached out to touch her hand. "Kerran, I don't want to hurt her. You know that. I think she's wonderful, the most wonderful person in the universe!"

"Let's not go overboard here." she put in wryly "Just remember that she had a very sheltered upbringing and she may have very different values."

"I know and I don't want to rush things. I just want the chance of knowing that she might like me."

"Of course she likes you!"

"I mean in a special way."

"Oh."

Zev continue to look up at Kerran. He wondered why it was that he had never though of Kerran in the way he did Veril. Kerran was a very attractive girl; bright, witty, strong, a wonderful person. Yet he had never felt a spark of attraction to her. It was almost as though she had a sign on her saying, "Hands off!". Perhaps that was it. She was just too capable, too strong, that there was no need of anyone else and so you didn't even try. But Veril was everything he had ever wanted; sweet, gentle, and yet just as strong and determined in her own way. Kerran and Veril were like night and day. Veril shone with openness, while Kerran could see through the shadows. They were so very different and yet they were like a matched pair, two sides of the same coin.

He squeezed her hand gratefully. "Thanks."

She shrugged. "Not a problem. Now let's see what we can cook up to keep Calan busy, shall we?"