Gurgaston stood guard by the entrance ramp of the little freighter with his arms crossed, stood solid like a lump bronze statue, eyes narrowed. He zoned out to the tones of discussion inside the ship behind him; he didn't care about what Heratrix, Skreem and Rokoara were trying to bargain. What he cared about was making sure nobody wandered onboard whilst they were making their deals.

The suns were high in the sky now, and though he was in the ships shadow, Gurgaston felt sweat beginning to form on his brow. He didn't move however, not to wipe away the moisture. That would show irritation, and if there was something The Butcher liked above all else, it was not showing a sign of weakness.

*

They had stumbled across the freighter completely by accident, as a result of a long wander down through the smaller bays of the port. Overhead there were ships coming in and out of orbit, thrusters powering out into the cosmos and rust buckets creaking as their crews scrambled desperately to pull in without killing their pack horses once and for all. Through the maze they had walked, the four of them dodging and diving and ducking and weaving the traders getting a look in at the fresh arrivals. It had been luck that the kart carrying a few dozen crates had broken down in front of them in the middle of the road like that, steam and oil spluttering out of cracks in the side panels.

'Ah, dammit!' the driver had said, jumping out of the cabin and taking a look around the side. 'What the hell is wrong with it now?'

'Think we should lend a hand?' Skreem asked, looking up at Gurgaston for confirmation.

'Don't look at me,' Gurgaston had said, throwing an arm to Heratrix, 'she's the boss here.'

'Nobody is the boss,' Heratrix reprimanded, striding confidently over to the stricken vehicle. 'Hello there,' she said as the rest of her little crew diligently wandered up after her. 'Need a hand?'

'Ah, this piece of crap has just about had it,' the loader had said, not turning around from trying to tape up the holes where the oil was leaking from. 'If I can't get this shit to Hawsterr's within about 15 minutes, I'm done for.'

'We really need Doone here,' Skreem said. 'He'd take one look and whip out enough tools from his bag to fix it with his eyes shut.'

Rokoara nudged her way past the group and looked over the large man's blubbery shoulder. She cocked her head from side to side, like an animal inspecting something strange, listening out for signs of danger. 'Sounds like a stray T-Connector. These things have a habit of doing that.'

'You think?' The great ball of a ship loader wiped his face as he turned to look up at the hulking Kakr, leaving black war paint on his scarlet cheek.

'Yeah,' Rokoara said, kneeling down by the side of the kart. 'You got a toolbox on you?'

'Yeah, hang on,' the man had said. He'd fished out a small pouch and Rokoara had dug into it like a Lype finding a bone.

Watching Rokoara work with such quick efficiency, the man had turned to the three others with his eyes wide in awe. 'I'm going to let my boss know I'm running five minutes late. You think she can fix it in that time?'

'Trust me,' Heratrix reassured, 'she'll do it. Where are you heading?'

'Hawsterr's port...'

'No, I meant, where is the ship heading?'

'Oh. Celestria, in through the port in 26. Don't ask me what's in the crates though, I just get it from the warehouse to the port and back again. Quasi-religious stuff, so I've heard.'

'You don't ask too many questions, do you?' Skreem asked, her mind ticking over as Heratrix's was also. She tried to act calm, but she feared her eyes lighting up might give her away.

'I try not to,' the man said.

A moment later, Rokoara was pulling the tape back off like she was unwrapping a birthday gift. 'Voila,' she said, 'try that.'

Smokeless and not pissing black anymore, the kart trundled on to its destination, the driver waving goodbye.

'Follow it,' Heratrix said to Skreem, 'then bring us.'

'Got it,' Skreem said, suddenly springing forward into the dust like she had boosters strapped to the soles of her shoes.

'Where did you learn to do that?' Gurgaston asked as they headed off after Skreem.

'Learn what?'

'Mechanics. I thought that was Doone's area of expertise.'

Rokoara smiled, a grin that said I know more than you know, and left the comment hanging in the air.

'Never should we limit ourselves to one specific task,' Heratrix said as she strode on, arms perfectly straight as she walked. 'We may all have a specialty, but let us not be confined only to the prisons our talents may create for us if we are not watching carefully.'

'Always trust the android to come up with philosophy,' Rokoara said with a snigger. She inspected a small cut on her thumb before disregarding it.

Heratrix's Halo-Core vibrated and she darted her eyes over the directions Skreem had sent. 'Let's shift.'

*

Skreem came out from inside the belly of the ship down the ramp to where Gurgaston stood waiting. He was busy watching as more karts came and went, a crew inside the ship taking over to lift the cargo up into the main hold of the freighter. The Rivermourn uttered a cough as she settled under additional weight, then returned to her silence as she was loaded up with more and more crates and boxes of hundreds of sizes and shapes.

'We might be able to get the four of us to Celestria,' Skreem said. 'The captain isn't too sure about the others, but if they turn up and we work hard enough keeping everything in check in the cargo bay during the flight, he says he might be able to sneak us into Celestria undetected.'

'How will we get through Burinthon? We can't get through there without paying; you know how bad it is.'

'Doesn't matter how,' Skreem said, casting a glance behind her into the ship. 'We just need to get there. Personally I still think going through the main port in...'

'Crysis wanted to go under the radar, and that's what we'll do,' Gurgaston stated, voice gruff and set. 'Let's not double guess him now.'

'Never said I did,' Skreem replied, leaning against Gurgaston's leg like it were the trunk of a great tree, her pigtails falling behind her into the cool blasts of air from inside Rivermourn. 'You think we should let the others know?'

'I expect Heratrix has already done it,' Gurgaston said, unfolding his arms to pull Skreem closer to his side. Across the way the man whose kart they had repaired noticed them, gave a quick wave. Gurgaston and Skreem both waved back in unison and the kart disappeared off again into the hubbub of the port, driver bouncing along inside his blubber.

'What're you going to do after all this is over?' Skreem asked.

Gurgaston considered for a moment, though nobody could have said he was thinking just by looking at him. Skreem knew because his fingers flicked on her side, one of his little ticks that she had grown accustomed to. 'I don't know,' he said at last, a small sigh escaping his thick lips. 'Somewhere quiet though. Quiet and simple, with a distinct lack of shooting people.'

Skreem looked at him and smiled. 'You're a little strange sometimes. Has anyone ever told you?'

Gurgaston went to smile back at Skreem, but the humour fell from his lips like a body from a burning building. 'No, but you should tell the others that we've got trouble heading our way.'

He nodded out into the crowd, where several black-hooded figures were wandering through the crowd, accosting people that walked past them. Skreem took a second to register the danger, then swiftly but silently stepped back inside.

Plans were changing.