The Yourian Captain slid into the booth gracefully, an accomplishment given his girth. “My associate tells me you have business to discuss?”
“I need passage to Earth.”
“Passage? There is a liner in orbit come recently from Friktik; passage is easily had—”
Rochard whispered intensely, “I need passage that does not involve the Polixaci. In any way.”
When the Yourian laughed, he quaked silently, waves rolling across his body like ripples in a pond. “Smuggling? Don’t answer, it doesn’t matter. Human, the Polixaci are everywhere. If I cross them, I can land nowhere, sell nothing.” He left, body still rippling.
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