Small Chunk
With a mock toast, Zayn raised an invisible glass and laughed. Cheers to travel in the modern era! Should we? He pointed to the van with the passengers. With their impassive yet vigilant expressions, the four guards positioned around the bay moved to silently converge on the white cargo van and climb inside without a word, their entire focus being on protecting their charge. Upon closer inspection, they were armed with holstered Glock-19 automatic pistols and folding-stock SPAS-12 combat shotguns; many other weapons were probably hidden in their loose-fitting vests and trousers.
More like a little shuttle bus, the passenger van was bigger, and Zayn slipped into the driver's seat. With Nora 'riding shotgun' in the front passenger seat, the other seven climbed into the roomy rear compartment. Zayn took off right away, speeding out of the hangar with an apparent lack of concern for his own safety, a recklessness that seemed shocking for one of the galaxy's most wanted information brokers.
Over his shoulder, Zayn called, "Well, me friends," as he seamlessly blended into the traffic. "I'm guessin' you 'aven't 'ad lunch yet, eh?"
"Meticulously arranged chemical compounds are as close as we usually come to a proper meal aboard Kieran's ship," Luna said dryly, as usual.
"Thanks," Kieran shot back without looking back. "Remind me again why I cart you lot around the Galaxy?"
"No, we haven't eaten," Nayla explained, interrupting the joke.
"Right then!" Zayn exclaimed with joy. "I am aware of a good location in the area. "My treat."
Doryn Station's interior turned out to be just as unusual as its exterior. They drove through what looked like a typical, expansive city instead of the anticipated system of underground tunnels, but one that was encased in a huge, far-off stone dome that was dotted with enormous light panels. Traffic was directed by roads onto a broad central highway from what seemed to be hundreds of hangar bays of various sizes. The highway readily absorbed the enormous volume as a steady stream of automobiles, including passenger buses, private vehicles, and heavy cargo trucks from the largest domes, moved smoothly towards the station's central hub. The highway was lined with elevated sidewalks, which were crowded with people on foot and in smaller personal transports. There were a few Srenyei among the mostly human population, as well as a number of other aliens wearing large environmental suits.
The Srenyei had one special advantage: they could live without life support on any planet with a non-corrosive atmosphere because they didn't need to breathe. The majority had slender upper limbs and thick, strong lower limbs, and they were roughly humanoid in shape, standing over six feet tall. They had broad chests that tapered to narrow waists. They were unable to see laterally because their heads were wedged between two tall shoulder protrusions. Notably, the Srenyei were the only sentient species that was known to require neither food nor water; photosynthesis was made possible by their vivid green exoskeletons. A Srenyei could survive for a full planetary day if exposed to the twin suns of the Doryn system for only thirty minutes.
Zayn talked casually with his passengers as he drove for almost thirty minutes toward the city center. They finally arrived at the central hub, a large open space where the stone ceiling rose so high it was out of sight and was obscured by enormous, dazzling white lighting panels that could illuminate the entire city. As if they had grown straight out of the rock, dozens of skyscrapers rose hundreds of meters above the station floor. Zayn skillfully negotiated the congested city traffic, eventually arriving at a section that appeared to be dedicated solely to dining establishments. He skillfully threw the big van into a parking space right in front of what seemed to be the most elegant building in the neighborhood. Inside, a clientele of only human beings in pricey formal wear and sophisticated evening gowns could be seen dining through spotless, crystal-clear windows. The parking lot itself was crowded with high-end cars that flaunted their owners' wealth. The guards' identical vehicle pulling in behind Zayn's utilitarian van looked completely out of place.
"Jackets Required," Zayn led them in, oblivious to the polished gold script on the door. They were met right away by a short, swarthy-skinned maître d' with thick black hair. "Yes, Mr. Zolvaris. Greetings for the afternoon. "Twelve-person table?" The original crew members were gently reminded of the size of their combined group by the waiter's casual count. The others had typically worked in small teams or pairs, but Kieran had always dreamed of a solo career. In an instant, Zayn and his four bodyguards increased their number by five.
"Allo, Will. "It's twelve," Zayn said with a smile.
Six of the seven newcomers felt particularly uneasy as the waiter guided them to a large table that was prominently placed in the middle of the dining room, followed by the looks of the other customers. Nora and Zayn, and Zayn's stoic guards, appeared completely unaware. As soon as he arrived at the table, Zayn sat down and placed his sandaled feet on the immaculate tablecloth. Nora immediately imitated his easygoing demeanor. Zayn saw that his other guests were uneasy and promptly reassured them.
"'Ave a seat, folks, 'ave a seat!" he exhorted. "This lot doesn't bother you. The majority of wealthy jerks won't leave Doryn until they've taken all the credit possible. It's fun to occasionally make them wriggle, don't you think?
The tension was reduced by his direct assessment. The others smiled a little and sat down, suddenly relishing the chance to shake up the stuffy atmosphere and maybe even make the'scum of the universe' look a little less sexy.
Amelina tentatively said, "Zayn," looking at the menu she had taken. "Do you realize what the prices are here?" she asked. Three-digit price tags were attached to a number of the listed entrées.
Zayn simply gave a casual shrug. "Miss, I'm in a profitable business. It's funny how my lengthy rap sheet keeps vanishing from the police department's central database. "Very strange, you know?"
Yan boasted, "Come on, man," his ego temporarily overriding his common sense, "you can't possibly be richer than I am."
Zayn immediately shot back, bending forward a little. "Right, mate," she said. "Forget about starting a fight right now if that's your goal. Alternatively, I might simply "forget" my credit card, and you can spend the evening cleaning dishes in the kitchen."
Yan reclined in his chair visibly.
"Where are we staying tonight?" Okani asked, shifting the topic to something more useful.
"GOT a little place arranged for ya downtown," Zayn answered. "A car rental was arranged for your group as well. After lunch, we'll stop by the rental office to pick up your vehicles. After returning to your ship to retrieve some rags, you are allowed to go wherever you like.
Luna was the first newcomer to express gratitude to their host directly, saying, "Thanks for the accommodations, Zayn,"
"Me pleasure," smiled Zayn. In addition, I had a small favor to repay Miss Nora 'ere. Actually, more than one.
The maître d', Will, returned to their table at that moment to take their orders. While they were placing their orders, Zayn got a bottle of good vintage wine from a waiter nearby and handed it around, which helped to break the ice between the groups.
"Right then," Zayn said as he swirled the wine in his glass and leaned his chair back on two legs. "Now seems like a good time for you lot to tell me exactly what sort of trouble I'm gettin' meself into 'ere."
Nora started her story three years ago, when she and Zayn had last seen each other. Gradually, her friends joined in, adding their own viewpoints and experiences to the story. The story ended thirty minutes later with them in their current situation, being pursued by the authorities throughout Core space and probably being singled out by Lek's vindictive political allies.
"How about you?" Returning the question to Zayn, Kieran asked.
Zayn smiled. He started by checking things off his fingers. "Born on Ch'elora Prime," he said. "I am twenty-three years old, five feet nine, and weigh approximately 169 pounds." Blond 'air, blue eyes. acquired a minor criminal record prior to enlisting in the Core Army at the age of 18. trained as a combat pilot in the aerospace industry. During my second year of service, in the midst of the Invar Uprising, I was shot down on May 4. I was fortunate to be saved by a certain 'ideologically flexible'... combat medic. He glanced at Nora sharply.
"Received top-notch treatment for a major concussion, three busted ribs, a fractured 'ip, and more cuts and bruises than I could count." At that moment, Will showed up with two other waiters who were carrying trays full of hot plates of food. A huge, ornate hamburger and an absolutely absurd amount of french fries were set down in front of Zayn, who carried on talking without interruption.
"I got word through my CO that the medic was being discharged with a 'less than honorable' grade for defying orders to drag me back from behind enemy lines. Naturally, I immediately followed her out of the Army. And that, my friends, is the third edition of the updated synopsis of Zayn Zolvaris' life. He grabbed a decorative toothpick from the top of his enormous burger and started to eat, somehow still being courteous in spite of his violent assault on the food.
"How did you end up as an information trader?" Amelina asked inquisitively.
"Ah, well, I 'appened to bring a... let's call it a 'small chunk'... of rather valuable data with me when I departed Core service," Zayn said between bites. "I sold it for enough seed money to significantly alter my way of life. After that, sort o' turned into a bit of a 'obby. The truth is that after the Core burned Nora, I no longer have any respect for them. I now sell my political insights and special talents for 'ard cash, mostly to the highest bidders in the Rim government."
"And the various Rim governments aren't after you as well?" Nayla questioned doubtfully.
"On the contrary," Zayn said with a laugh. "I've done a few good jobs for them here and there. In exchange, they occasionally manage to conveniently forget "oo I am." mutually advantageous agreement, you see."
"Small chunk of data?" Rolling her eyes, Nora interrupted. "You didn't 'bring' a piece of data, Zayn. An entire Core Army Data Core was stolen by you.
Kieran exclaimed, "Holy shit," with genuine admiration. Some of the most closely guarded strategic assets the Core owned were Core Army Data Cores, which were more than just storage devices. They were mobile command-and-control centers that were heavily fortified and housed within large starships. There had only ever been eleven built. Kieran was aware that Ravy, his own House, had once dreamed of owning one but had given up on the idea because it was too dangerous. Without saying a word, Kieran came to the conclusion that this man is either extremely intelligent or extremely fortunate. or both.
Lunch was a pleasant and swift affair. Showing off his informational prowess, Zayn casually shared some background information about his guests that not even they were aware of, such as the fact that all six of them were now formally included in the Core government's internal database of "Persons of Extreme Interest." Using cash taken from a small, plain briefcase that one of his guards had surreptitiously brought into the restaurant, Zayn paid the bill without blinking. Soon after, they left, passing through the same maze of disapproving looks from the affluent businesspeople and socialites who occupied the upscale establishment.