Dank Alley, Stench Of Urine And Dead Cat

He could move fast for a fat man. He was halfway down the block and turning into an alley behind the place before I got up to speed. I dug in and went after him.

This was getting interesting. On the one hand, I was about to learn something that might be useful, and maybe do a cop a favor. On the other, I was gonna be really late for my appointment.

Oh, well.

Dark side street, taste of rain in the air

“Clever how you handled that redcap, shamus. Nearly fooled me. Or are you back in the Militia now?”

Ahhh, Hell. I knew that voice — and he knew me, more’s the pity. Still, it’s like they say: The jig isn’t up until you’ve stopped dancing. I turned and looked at the man in the shadows.

Dark Night, Not Stormy. Yet.

It was a dark night in Founder’s Landing, capital city of the Republic back in the olden days when there actually was a Republic. Now it was just another population center, the hulks of decaying and long-unused civic architecture bulking vaguely in the gloom.

At night it was always dark, here on the edge of the nebula known as the Lesser Ephebian Cloud. Only four stars near enough to be visible in the galactic murk and no moon to speak of, just a space station. Most people didn’t care, though; what with the curfew in place, no respectable Citizen would be out on the streets at this hour anyway. Not that I was all that respectable, but with my hat on I could pass — in a dim light.

Convenient, that.