The station was primarily a naval facility, but it appeared that private ships made use of its services from time to time, and there was an area set aside for their crews' use. The Constrictor crew had been quartered here, and had not been given access to anywhere else except for passage to the repair bay. In this area were a variety of shops, restaurants, bars, libraries, and so on. There was also a large park area whose day and night illumination seemed to be out of sync with the rest of the station's twenty-six hour system.
To the fascination of some, and the complete disinterest of others, they soon discovered that this was because it was lit on a twenty-four cycle for the benefit of its flora and fauna, which notices claimed to be exclusively from Earth. A cynical Arrachachak claimed they were no more interesting than the lifeforms from many other worlds, although even he turned to glance at a particularly exotic-looking bird.
After so long spent in the confines of spacecraft and the untidy cave on their asteroid most of them took to spending long hours in the park, often in the cafes and bars that lined the side of it. In payment for their assistance and the ECM they had all been provided with a generous credit to spend during their stay.
If the timing was right and the station facing the right direction the coverings over the park's roof were opened, allowing the natural sunlight of Psi5 Aurigae to stream in. Despite the background noise of the station and the shadows of the latticework of thick reinforcing beams in the ceiling a person with imagination, standing at the right place and looking in the right direction, could almost pretend they were on a world's surface. Earth's surface.
All of them appeared recovered now, although some people had been advised to take things easy for a while. Silsi, Marchero, Arrachachak, and Mu were following that advice at a cafe in the park.
"Made up your minds, yet?" Arrachachak asked them, sipping coffee from a mug that was almost lost in his huge hands.
"About staying?" Mu asked. "I think Mychov wants to."
Silsi shook her head. "What are they going to want to keep scum like us for?"
"Scum?" Arrachachak replied, his tone amused.
"Pirates aren't generally held in very high regard," Marchero pointed out.
"And most of them would kill you there and then for a remark like that," Mu warned.
Marchero shrugged. "Most people I meet don't seem to think I'm much better, anyway."
"Come along!" Arrachachak exclaimed. "Why's everyone doing their best to put themselves down at the moment?"
"Look, let's face it. Pirates are vicious-minded killers who don't give a damn about anything or anyone other than themselves," Silsi sighed. "And we've all done it. You see a Boa explode, and it never crosses your mind that maybe twenty people have just died. No, there's a cargo canister, quick, grab it!"
"Our own survival," Mu said.
"What?" Marchero asked, confused.
"Why the hell do you think I ended up in that game?" he retorted. "Kill or be killed, probably in some gutter in a wreck of a city on a hole like Isveve."
"Are you saying pirates are basically decent people who are just a little too concerned with their own problems?" Marchero replied incredulously.
"How have you managed to survive this long with that mouth?" Silsi asked. She continued, ignoring the flash of anger on Marchero's face. "Not decent, but we, at least, aren't psychos."
"Zarenda was," Mu muttered.
"Who?" Marchero queried.
"Just some guy who used to work with us. The type of person who kicks the crap out of people for the entertainment of it. He would attack small shuttles with no cargo capacity if there wasn't anyone around to get him for it."
"Ended up being vapourised shortly after storming out of a station at Isinor after a Cobra pilot he claimed had given him a funny look in the bar," Arrachachak smirked.
"Is there a point to all this self-justification?"
Arrachachak finished off his coffee, and twiddling the mug on the table said, "Some people become pirates because they are violent yobs. Some because they are just hopeless, or desperate, or insane. Most of our lot could make it in a more acceptable life, given the chance."
The sceptical expression Marchero had been wearing had not vanished. "I've known plenty of desperate or down on their luck people who didn't resort to robbery and murder."
"Like you did?" Mu pointed out.
"What?!"
"Kirrik's told us how you ended up in prison, then with the Navy," he reminded.
Marchero's face darkened into its usual scowl. "If he's staying here then I'm going back, and vice versa."
Arrachachak was gazing out through the trees of the park.
"You can ask him now," he noted.
When Marchero twisted round on her chair she could just see Kirrik's dark form threading its way through a cluster of pines. "What's he want now?" she muttered, turning back around and sipping her drink, deliberately ignoring the approaching Disian.
When Kirrik reached them he dropped a notepad onto their table. "The ship's ready," he told them. "I'm leaving in the morning." He gestured towards the notepad. "Can you put your names to the list of who's staying or going?" he asked.
"I think that's a decision we should all make together," Arrachachak pointed out. "Has anyone else made their minds up yet?"
"No," Kirrik shrugged. "Suit yourself, anyway, as long as you get it back to me within the next few hours. I need to organise supplies. Oh, if you do return, I'll get you all clean legal records. And you," he said to Marchero, who was still concentrating solely on her coffee, "Our offer still stands, if you want to return. Whatever I may think of you personally, I can't deny that you haven't been useful on this little escapade." He walked off the way he had come from.
On the Constrictor's bridge were six people, all who were intending to undertake the dangerous journey back to places they knew. Kirrik was there, as was Arrachachak, neither of whom had any particular connection with their current location. Kirrik was obliged to return to the Navy, whilst Arrachachak had decided to go where most of his people went. Most of the pirates had decided they would rather stick together in the world they knew, instead of seeking a new future in a complete unknown. Two of them, though, took up that challenge. Mychov had long wondered about the almost legendary Sol system, and to everyone's surprise Sawaka insisted on going with him. Apparently they had been together for some time, although they had played it so low key that nobody had even guessed.
Even more of a surprise was Marchero's decision to return. Although she had made a few comments about hoping to have a chance of seeing Kirrik come to a bad end it seemed more likely that she was not prepared to face what might be a significantly different world to that which she was used to.
The local forces had already sent ships ahead to the co-ordinates of the gateway, and reported apparent success in powering it up. The final test - that of establishing a link to the gate near Esdi - would await the Constrictor's arrival.
The Constrictor itself had been overhauled in a professional shipyard, although in a few cases Kirrik had insisted that work was only carried out by robots that subsequently had their memories erased. With full supplies, equipment in working order, and a much smaller crew than before their previous worries about food and water were hopefully a thing of the past. As were troubles with the door. Instead of the patch of bare wires there was a tidy panel.
On the final approach to the gate after leaving hyperspace Marchero started to fiddle nervously.
"You sure this is going to work?" she asked everyone in general.
"It did on the way here," Kirrik replied calmly.
"This gate was unknown. Heaven alone knows what might be waiting at the other end!"