At the end of a long, straight alley, I find the building my client designated. The sign on the front of the building is blank, the shutters closed, as though the place is abandoned.

I knock: three quick taps, one loud thud, and another tap-tap. The door slides open eerily fast, and shuts itself behind me just as swiftly.

The lobby is small and irritatingly Gaian. A huge clock made of black metal decorates one wall. Gaians love to make their obsessive time-tracking seem like an artistic choice rather than a practical one. I always find the constant reminders of time restrictive, and especially so now, when its hands tick away the limited minutes until I have to return to my family. If I don’t make it back for our meeting with the customer, I’ll never hear the end of it. Especially if something goes wrong.

I chew on my lip, but force myself to stop as the door on the other side of the lobby slides open. In the doorway stands a small Gaian man with watery eyes and an almost impossibly wrinkled face. He crosses his arms in an X over his chest in a formal Gaian greeting, and I suppress a grimace as I return the gesture. Even the black market brokers on this planet are unbearably polite. I hate these kinds of pleasantries; they make it impossible to tell what anyone is really thinking.

“She’s on her way,” the man says. He gestures for me to step through the doorway into the second room, but I stay where I am.

“Wha—she is?” I ask, startled. “Shey?”

The man nods. I shift, eyeing the room with renewed suspicion. I don’t like that he immediately knows who I am and who I’m here to see. I don’t like anyone keeping tabs on me that closely, especially not for a job like this, but I guess that’s what he’s here for. Shey wouldn’t have sent me here unless we could trust him.

“How long will it take?” I ask, drumming my fingers against my arm.

“Impossible to say,” the man says, his expression inscrutable. “Security has been tight lately, it may be a while.”

I sigh, and step farther into the building. This room is bigger than the first, and my eyes are drawn to the mural covering one wall, artistically depicting a meeting between a human and a Primus. The faceless Primus has its tentacles spread wide, light fanning behind it in an image of godliness; the human is bowing, humble, hands extended in supplication. Whether it’s a sign that the man who owns this building is a Primus worshipper, or it’s just a general, creepy Gaian thing, I’m not sure.