"It's from the old Earth, from Italy." The webbed fingers splayed out across the flat display. "They want twenty million."
Akkora laughs outright. Her feathers lifting around her throat. "What's wrong with a stunner? Or a hi-ten raygun? You could buy mine for five hundred right now."
Slowly Bulgra looked from the image beneath his hands, his eyes huge, unblinking. "Akkora, I never said I was buying it. We," he looked past her to the rest of the crew, "are going to steal it." Bulgra snorted. "Besides, you bought that from the grifter on the last shuttle for a hundred and fifty. I doubt it even fires."
The ship was in dock, the quaternary driver being compounded for transitional warps. Akkora had overseen the transitional warps since Bulgra had first installed them, some five tours earlier. Now, on the sixth run around the ring, there was some decay in the force applications, and she'd demanded that Bulgra cut into the funds enough to see the drives defragged and re-compounded.
Now Gimlet, Sorbel, and Harris were in there with Bulgra, googled and stem-wired into the station's auxillary network, presumably socnetting some wartime vagabond into providing a meatspace caravan around the duty-frees and a fixer who could neutralize the station's spimes.
She had a bad feeling about it. It was never a good idea to shit where you eat, the nests reinforced that from the day she'd hatched.
| Track | Band |
| ⤓ | Cryptic Candy Band |
| ⤓ | The Bleeding Lambs |
| ⤓ | Tree Haters |
| ⤓ | August Glitch |
| ⤓ | Dwight Moss Orchestra |
| ⤓ | Reino Nikola |
| ⤓ | Sirens of Salt |