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Urle made his way to a bar known as the Spacerport.
It was outside of aug territory, but close enough that a lot of the clientele were enhanced, and Urle felt a dozen active scans ping him as he came in. A few focused on Kell, but finding nothing interesting, they gave up.
“Follow me,” Urle whispered.
Kell was on him closely as Urle moved to a set of steps and went to the next floor.
This floor was special, he knew. Only important, wealthy patrons typically came up here – not a rule, but a custom. Them, and people who wanted a favor from someone important.
He felt more scans, looking for weapons and traps on his person. Kell was mostly overlooked, his lack of augments and weapons probably making him read as harmless, which Urle found grimly amusing.
A large man surrounded by cronies and beautiful women, along with a dozen enforcers and bouncers, were watching them as they went to a booth, Kell sitting on the inside and Urle next to him. The guards did not even bother to hide their weapons.
It was not them that Urle wanted the attention of, though, and as they waited, their interest slowly waned. He wanted another type of contact, and lone figures in shadowy recesses seemed to be picking up on that.
“Someone’s going to come sit down,” he told Kell. “When they do, they will be a broker. Let me do all the talking unless I ask you something, all right?”
Kell nodded. And soon enough, a man joined them.
He was a short, ratty man with a thin face whose hair had been taken by radiation. An aug, wires wrapped around his ears to ports on the back of his head, but aside from that his mods were hidden from sight.
He said nothing at first, merely sliding a card across the table to Urle. It introduced him as Short Circuit.
Urle ran a search on the man, finding that he had been arrested before for information trafficking, extortion, assault, even a murder and a dozen other lesser charges. Most had never stuck, despite a lot of evidence, and he’d only faced a few short stints in prison.
So he was connected, Urle mused.
“I need to find someone,” Urle told him.
Cautiously, he messaged Kell, hoping the being would actually pay attention.
‘Be careful. This man is a real piece of garbage – list of crimes a mile long, including murder. But he might have the info we need.’
If Kell saw it, he gave no indication.
Short Circuit was watching Kell, though.
“I know who you are,” Short Circuit told Urle. “First officer on the Craton. Not bad, you know? But who’s your friend?”
“No one important,” Urle said.
Short Circuit clearly did not buy that. But he did not seem to want to stress the point, and Urle felt something creep up the back of his neck.
A feeling of dread was spreading through the room, he realized. The conversations were slowly growing quieter, until the entire floor seemed silent.
Was Kell doing this intentionally?
Urle glanced around, wondering if the people up here would know the source.
But no one was watching them. Their nervous glances were at each other, at dark corners. The heavy-set man with his many companions apparently had had enough, and rose to leave, his entourage hurrying along after him.
“I only have the alias of the man I’m looking for,” Urle said, hoping that Short Circuit wouldn’t run out next.
The man considered, then nodded. “Price depends on who it is. Minimum 100,000 credits.”
Urle nodded. It was high, almost all of his external trade credits . . . But he could do it.
“The alias is Ji,” Urle told him. “He’s connected-“
The blood drained from Short Circuit’s face.
He stood, without a word.
“You’re a moron,” he said. “Get back to your ship before you get hurt.”
Other Terrestrial 
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