Ch. 20 The Veil

As the minutes ticked away, Ralios heard V.A.N.D.E.L.'s familiar voice breaking the silence of the cockpit. "Ralios, we're approaching the Veil. We will be there in five minutes."

He placed his tablet down on the console and sat up, stretching his arms overhead. "Thanks, Van," he replied. With a sigh, he continued, "What's the probability that Mattie will actually tell me anything else about the cargo?"

V.A.N.D.E.L.'s dry response came swiftly. "The sample size of her telling you extra information is so small that calculating reasonable estimates is currently impossible."

Ralios continued his preparations, pressing buttons on the holographic displays to get the Tailwind ready for its exit from Ember space. "Yeah, I figured it was something like that," he muttered, his mind already racing ahead to the upcoming rendezvous at the Veil.

With a shudder and a jolt, the Tailwind exited the golden embrace of Ember space, emerging into the familiar realm of the Veil. This celestial haven was an enigmatic blend of beauty and chaos.

The Veil was a sprawling expanse of interconnected space stations, orbital platforms, and massive docking yards that encircled a crimson gas giant, its turbulent atmosphere tinted a vivid shade of ruby. This colossal gas giant was known as Veilonia, and its imposing presence seemed to both protect and conceal the bustling microcosm of life that swirled around it.

The gas giant's vivid hues provided a stark contrast to the artificial constructions that clung to its perimeter. The Veil's myriad platforms and docking stations glistened with the metallic sheen of advanced technology. They formed a delicate yet formidable spiderweb of connections that allowed ships of all shapes and sizes to come and go.

The docking yards, like the one numbered 16 where the Tailwind was headed, were a testament to the bustling activity within the Veil. Ships from across the galaxy docked here, bearing traders, mercenaries, and wanderers of all kinds.

As the Tailwind approached its designated berth, Ralios input a series of commands, activating the ship's automatic landing function. The vessel glided gracefully through the Veil's bustling airspace, guided by precise technology that ensured a seamless entry into the docking yard.

With a soft, almost imperceptible thud, the Tailwind settled into its designated berth in docking yard 16. The hum of activity enveloped the ship as it joined the multitude of others, each with its own story and purpose in the eclectic mosaic of trade

The Veil, a celestial crossroads on the outer edges of the known galaxy, shimmered like a beacon of intrigue amidst the inky depths of space. Here, at the precipice of the Avandar Empire's dominion, it stood as a sanctuary, a respite from the relentless power struggles that defined the Border Worlds.

A neutral ground where the machinations of empires held no sway, the Veil welcomed a motley assortment of people from countless stars. Among them were Aelorians like Ralios, their plumage and features as diverse as the galaxies they hailed from; others were the featherless subspecies of Aelorians, The Lylorians, but known to most as Raptors.

Within the sprawling confines of the Veil, diversity wasn't just a fact; it was a vibrant tapestry of languages, cultures, and traditions interwoven with the ebb and flow of transient lives.

But beneath its welcoming facade, the Veil harbored secrets. It was notorious for its thriving black market, where smugglers and pirates bartered in stolen treasures, contraband, and other illicit wares that dared not see the light of an imperial day.

Yet the Veil was more than contraband and secrecy. It was a hub for information, a gathering place for spies and information brokers. It thrived on the exchange of secrets, espionage, and the acquisition of intelligence that could sway the fate of entire star systems.

For Ralios and his crew, the Veil was home. It was here that Mattie, their enigmatic fixer and orchestrator of clandestine operations, plied her trade. She secured jobs, clients, and connections, turning their corner of the Veil into a wellspring of income and opportunity.

However, safety within the Veil was always relative. Imperial agents, bounty hunters, and rival factions lingered in the shadows, ready to pounce. It was a place where fortunes could soar or crumble in the blink of an eye, where alliances shifted like cosmic tides.

In essence, the Veil embodied the tumultuous essence of life on the fringe of known space. It was a microcosm of politics, intrigue, and survival—a place where Ralios and his crew treaded carefully, pursuing profit and freedom amidst the swirling chaos of the Border Worlds.

Most of the docking yards within the Veil were unpressurized, and it was standard procedure for Ralios to don his EVA suit before disembarking from his ship. He slipped on the underbody part of the suit, a snug-fitting garment he often wore while piloting the Tailwind. The suit was designed to provide protection against the harsh vacuum of space and the unpredictable conditions of various planets and stations.

Before sealing himself within the helmet, Ralios maneuvered the Tailwind's mechanical arm to retrieve the crate from the cargo bay, placing it securely next to the ship. He then sealed his helmet and visor, ensuring that the suit's systems activated with a series of soft electronic hums and faint clicks. With a final reassuring pat on the crate, he uttered, "Alright, see you in a bit, Van."

Pressing two latches on either side of the cockpit, Ralios released the atmosphere within, allowing him to lift up the entire top portion of the cockpit and squeeze out. Even without an atmosphere, the artificial gravity generated by the Veil's rotation provided a comforting sense of weight, almost mimicking natural gravity for Aelorians.

As he descended the side of the Tailwind using the built-in steps on the hull, Ralios was greeted by a scene of organized chaos. Ships of all shapes and sizes were landing, taking off, and being loaded or unloaded. Dozens of people, their EVA suits adorned with various insignias and designs, bustled about, attending to their duties in the bustling hub of the Veil's docking yard.

Amid the workers, there were also the few giant figures that stood out. Genetically and mechanically modified guards, these towering Aelorians were over seven feet tall. Their imposing presence was enough to deter any mischief in the bustling yard. While they resembled knock off Imperial Thrashers in some ways, Ralios felt more apathy than fear when he passed them. He knew that as long as he stayed out of their way and didn't provoke them, the marquis's Hounds didn't give a second thought to most of the comings and goings in the Veil.

Beneath the protective visor of his EVA helmet, Ralios focused on the task at hand. He leaned down and pressed a series of buttons on the cargo box, which responded with a mechanical whir. With a gentle but audible hum, the cargo box started to lift itself off the ground, hovering about a foot above the polished surface of the docking yard. Taking his position behind the floating crate, Ralios began to guide it down the nearby ramp with ease, thankful for the reduced weight that made the task manageable.

As he approached the airlock leading deeper into the Veil, a hulking figure loomed in his path. One of the Marquis's Hounds, the security personnel responsible for maintaining order in this bustling hub, had halted Ralios's progress. Accepting the incoming communication ping, Ralios listened to the gruff voice emanating from the Hound's comm unit.

"The cargo coming in is being checked over there now," the Hound pointed to a secondary entryway that was packed with people, the line extending for a good forty or fifty individuals back.

In a mixture of shock and frustration, Ralios questioned, "Why? What the hell is going on?"

The Hound, maintaining his imposing posture, replied, "Hell if I know. The boss is looking for something, I suppose."

Growing increasingly impatient and recognizing the colossal inconvenience proposed a solution. "Look at that line! Wait, Hartress! Bring me Hartress, let me speak to her. We're good friends. Maybe she can make an exception for me."

The large Aelorian Hound didn't seem entirely convinced but ultimately shrugged, his massive shoulders shifting beneath the heavy suit. He warned Ralios, "Alright, this oughta be funny, she's in a shitty mood today."

Ralios stood his ground, his arms crossed as he prepared to face the Hound captain, Hartress. Over the years, their encounters had been more confrontational than friendly, often involving threats and occasionally the drawn end of a beam caster. Their relationship had seen its fair share of ups and downs. But now, aligned with Mattie's crew, Ralios knew he had an angle to play.

As he waited for Hartress to arrive, he mulled over his approach. He had to strike the right balance between respectful and assertive, hoping to use their history to his advantage. This meeting could be a test of diplomacy rather than a battle of wills, and Ralios was determined to pass with flying colors.

That had been his initial plan, but upon seeing Hartress, Ralios couldn't resist his old habits. "Well, well, you old hag, it's been a while," he blurted out, a mischievous grin stretching across his beak.

Hartress rolled her eyes at the nickname. "Ah, I wondered what dumbasses called me their friend to get an audience with me; I shouldn't be surprised it's Ralios the Rat," she replied. Ralios, feigning offense, placed his hand on his chest. "How dare you! I don't go by that name any more, just Ralios, and  yeah, I can understand you being surprised at anyone calling you their friend."

As Hartress's hand inched towards her beam caster, Ralios realized he needed to get to the point. "Listen, Hartress, I know you're busy, but I've got a good reason for calling you over here," he began, putting on a more serious tone. "I'm working with Mattie now."

Hartress halted her reach for the weapon, clearly skeptical. "Like hell you are," she retorted.

Ralios decided to prove it and sent her an identification ping. Hartress reluctantly examined it. After a few moments, she seemed to begrudgingly accept its legitimacy.

Her curiosity piqued, she finally asked, "How in the seven skies did a screw-up like you end up in cahoots with Mattie?"

Ralios wagged his finger playfully at Hartress. "Ah, my dear Hartress, that's a story for another time. What's important now is that I am with her. And, if you don't want to keep your boss's dear cousin waiting for her cargo, you'll let me through this door." He added a touch of mock scandal to his tone.

Hartress regarded Ralios with a mix of irritation and skepticism. His boldness, as always, managed to surprise her. She weighed her options for a moment, glancing back at the cargo line that seemed to be moving slower by the second.

With a begrudging sigh, Hartress finally relented. "Alright, Rat," she muttered with a hint of annoyance. "I'll let you through, but if this is some kind of trick, I won't hesitate to shoot you myself."

Ralios flashed her a thumbs-up. "You always were a sweetheart, Hartress. Thanks."

As Ralios confidently strolled through the main doors, Hartress and the other Hound watched him with a mixture of exasperation and begrudging respect. Hartress couldn't help but mutter under her breath, "One of these days, I'm going to make him a carbon stain on the wall."

Her fellow Hound chuckled quietly, earning a sharp side-eye from Hartress. "You find something funny, Korrin?"

Korrin raised his hands in surrender, still grinning. "Sorry, boss. Just thinking that Ralios has a special way of getting under your scales."

Hartress rolled her eyes, then snapped back to her professional demeanor. "Get back to work, shit-for-brains." With that, she turned and marched back to the other door where the long line of people awaited her attention, leaving Ralios to continue on his way, cargo in tow.