Eagle X, Mission 15: The Singapore Incident

Part 2: Liam

"That will be 24 credits, sir," said the kiosk vendor. He smiled, pushing forward his card reader for payment.

"You take cat bucks?" Liam reached into his wallet. The vendor's smile wilted as he gave a disappointed nod.

"We accept EC credits, and Felarn paper money." The vendor leaned forward, lowering his voice as if sharing a secret. "I have to charge you market value, nearly double the cost."

"Plus, you have to visit a money changer to convert it to credits. You vendors never add that part." Liam counted 49 Felarns and slapped them into the man's hand.

"Thank you for your patronage, sir."

"Thanks for the smokes."

Liam took the pack of 'Uncle P's Thin Cigars' and left the kiosk to its grumbling merchant. Joining the river of people filing past, he swam its meandering to the lift. Liam waited patiently until his queue was called then packed into the elevator with thirty people and a maintenance construct. The composition of passengers was wide and diverse. Humans, Canamarians, Felarnians, Raiel, even a Xnea Xnarn.

His brother, Lance, would have called it a menagerie. Liam chuckled. He missed Lance.

Taking out a cigar, he savored the aroma before putting it between his lips. He focused on the feel of the brown leaves, the smell of the carnibus within. Dark thoughts threatened to eat away at the barriers carefully crafted by his therapist. Enjoying the taste of the cigar, and tried to forget his brother for a moment.

"Sir, you can't smoke in here."

Liam jolted out of his musings. A Xnea Xnarn man stared at him, his neck feathers ruffled, his avian eyes concerned.

"Did you hear me, Sir? You can't smoke that in here."

It wasn't the birdman, but the human woman beside him that had a problem with his cheroot.

"I won't light it," Liam assured her, the cigar bobbing up and down without falling from his lips.

She rolled her eyes and turned away. The Xnea continued to stare.

"We going to have a problem, buddy?"

"No," squawked the alien. "Sorry for intruding."

Liam knew the owl faced man didn't mean to be intrusive. Xnea Xnarn stared, it was who they were. It was the invasion of his personal thoughts that bothered him. The Xnea were telepaths, and in such close quarters one couldn't expect them to keep to themselves.

Liam concentrated on pushing out any unwanted scrying. He didn't have any psychic ability to speak of, but he'd received training from a renowned Psi-Therapist. The mental exercises were invaluable in keeping the darkness at bay, and fending off nosy telepaths.

He focused on the floor numbers as they sped by. One hundred floors until they reached the main deck. Why were the cigars and other creature comforts always kept at the bottom floors of space stations? It always made getting his fix an adventure.

The lights of the lift dimmed and a low-face appeared on the ceiling. A blockish orange face with thin lips and suspicious eyes glared into Liam's corner, a thick eyebrow raised.

"Gridport regulations restrict smoking to the port's twenty mezzanines," stated the AI, his voice distorted by speakers in need of repair. "Smoking is prohibited within each of the gridport's 151 elevators."

"I'm not going to smoke it," Liam barked. He spoke to the AI, but his eyes were on the woman watching him from behind her datapad.

The low-face frowned, but vanished. The lights brightened and lift slowed as it reached the main level. The elevator car chimed as it finally came to a halt. The doors opened onto the packed main floor of Trappist Station.