Editing On Knife's Edge

I'd touched down late and bade my goodbyes to the freighter I'd hitched my ride on. Nothing against the people on her. They were third-generation spacers, the entire crew blood family down to the last member, and kind to a down-on-her luck journeyman like myself. However, they were kissing dirt on Santo to pick up a relative as their permanent engineer and their ship wasn't large or complex enough to need two greasemonkeys cluttering the engine room. So I said my goodbyes, dodged promises to keep in touch and gave them my heartfelt thanks. I didn't need to tell them to watch their backs—they were third gen spacers after all, and were wise to the Verse.<br><br>

I knew they knew I was running and they had the discretion to keep their noses out of it while they gave me passage in exchange for work. The four weeks aboard their vessel were a respite I was sorry to see end but I resolutely put my boots to the tarmac and walked off. I had maybe two credits to my name and nothing but the clothes on my back and the skill of my hands to stave off starvation, but Santo was a busy place and her spaceport busier. I had no doubt I'd find work. I turned my collar up against the light drizzle spitting down and charted a course for the bright lights and noise of the commercial zone. If nothing else, I could find my way to an overly busy bar and talk the owner into letting me play bouncer til closing time. It might net me a meal and a place to doss down til morning. Or it might net me a bar brawl.<br><br>

Ezekiel followed the backs of his companions through the rainy streets of Santo, wondering exactly what he was expecting to find here. His cane clacked against the slick pavement as he quickened his pace to keep up with the crew of the ''Long Ride''. They were in more of a hurry than usual, he knew. Captain March owed credits to Petrosovic - a lot of credits, in fact and Petrosovic did not have much patience for dawdling when it came to repayment. Back on Paquin, the ship had taken on an expedited cargo - a small box no bigger than a man's hand. Eidos, the ship's purser, had the box in his hands right now, clutched tight to his chest like he thought the rain might make him drop it. It was very wet, Ezekiel thought as he wiped the rain from his glasses.<br><br>

I had gotten a tip on a possible job at one of the casinos and was making my way toward it. The rain was coming down harder and running in a steady stream off my cap's bill. It was also getting past my collar and soaking the back of my neck. My duffel was waterproofed and kept the majority of the rain off my back, however, and I was grateful for it. November on Santo wasn't exactly a hardship but rain had a way of soaking into your bones if you were careless and it took longer to warm up afterward.<br><br>

When the girl bolted, the pimp deflated, suddenly looking about half his size, as his last chance to salvage the situation ran into the crowded city streets of Santo. It was clear to Ezekiel the fat man wouldn't be a threat any more. "Go on, now," Ezekiel ordered in a soft drawl and the pimp turned in the opposite direction from the way the girl had fled and slowly dragged himself through the rain, a beaten man looking for a hole to crawl in.<br><br>

He shifted his cane to his left hand and tried taking a couple of steps, using it to support the weight that his leg couldn't. Thankfully, he realized the leg only seemed to be numb below the knee, which allowed him to drag the left leg along with him. The steps were haltering and slow, but they were there. "I think I'll be okay to walk, but if you wouldn't mind staying close for a couple of minutes." He motioned his head back behind him. "I'm new to Santo, but I saw a little Chinese place a couple streets back if you didn't mind getting some food and letting me sit for a few.”<br><br>

I caught the look the woman gave us and didn't miss her assumption about our relationship. There was nothing for it but let it slide. I had no control over what other people would think yet still I took care not to sit too close to the man. I was in luck: the table sat at an angle to the wall and two chairs faced the front entrance. I took one of them from habit and located the door to the kitchen in case I needed to bug out the rear. Exit strategy taken care of, I parked myself with my back to the wall, my eyes to the front, and said the man beside me, "What brings you to Santo?"<br><br>

That was assuming that the people I evaded were even looking my way at the moment.  Santo was a world blessed with casinos and criminals and it made a profitable living supporting both.  Part of what made that work was a mixture of willful ignorance of other people’s business and self-interested snooping into the same.  The trick to ensuring the first and avoiding the second was giving people what they expected to see so they could ignore it. So long as I blended in and didn’t make a scene, I should be safe and so should he.  The old woman at the door had already assumed we were a couple or at least friends and therefore nothing remarkable. So instead of leaving him in the lurch, I sat with him, not too aloof but not too familiar doing it.  Just two friends coming in out of the rain. <br><br>  

“Pleased to meet you, Zeke.” I carefully tapped rims with him and took a sip.  The tea blistered my tongue but I savored the warmth as it went down and gave Zeke a tight smile.  “I’ve been called a lot of things in my life, but Kat is new.  And a lot closer to the truth. So what brings you to Santo?”<br><br>

He elaborated, "I've been wandering a bit, going where the ships can take me. 'Course, I just lost my current ride, so I may be here for a bit." He hadn't thought Santo would have a lot of answers for him, but of course, God always had lessons to teach him. Some had to do with Excalibur but some did not and Santo already had shown him one of those.<br><br>