Marcus Howell hated the cold. It made the parts of him that were still ‘him’ hurt in ways that even his nanite pain dampeners couldn’t quite quell. At over two meters tall and weighing more than 180 kilos, he cut an impressive, if not intimidating figure. Howell was not a small man, by any count. Dark-brown hair, close cut; a habit from his time in the Terran military. Dark-brown eyes flecked with silver, on a rugged face with a strong chin with light stubble. His barrel chest and slight belly showed his love of eating, while the leather jacket that stretched across his huge biceps advertised his love of weightlifting. He shivered heavily, letting out a hot breath and tugging his thick leather jacket tighter across his frame as he strode down a stone-hewn corridor.

It was always cold in Port Odisa, the main settlement on Triton, Neptune’s largest moon; the environmental systems barely kept pace with heat loss. With a thin nitrogen atmosphere and a surface covered in ice, Triton was one of the coldest places in the Sol system. Even its molten core could barely keep a couple miles of liquid water from freezing below the surface ice. However, even being as cold as the moon was, it was uniquely situated to be the ideal location for an interstellar refueling station. Cut into a mountain on the equator of the moon, it served as the first and last stop in and out of the Sol System, offering fuel, water, and other goods.

The tunnel ahead of Howell brightened significantly as he came up to one of the many windows in the rock, weak sunlight pouring into the hallway. He slowed and looked out as he walked. In the distance, the atmosphere was a shallow fog, mostly from the cryovolcanoes that dotted the surface. Down below the mountain, large pipes raced across the surface ice, leading from the many water pumping stations to the mountain’s facilities. Far above the surface, Howell spotted a SATO cruiser making its approach to the port’s orbital space elevator, no doubt to refuel.

Howell turned back and pushed on, focusing on getting to where he needed to be. As he walked, a small mechanical bird head peeked up from under his collar, watching the various species that crowded the different platforms and walkways as Howell passed them. The head tracked on several different interesting characters, scanning each one in turn. 

There was an enormous Kerasii, an alien species not unlike a bipedal rhinoceros, with a large horn protruding from its face, covered with colorful woven garb and criss-crossed with small decorative chains. Howell could make out her clan’s Mark, carved into the side of her horn. She was tending to a larger hovercart with a pallet of what could be best described as watermelon sized plums, a staple fruit from her homeworld. They would sell for a high price in Sol, especially in the Belt or any of the stations.

Further along the track, a small pack of wolf-like Lupae Lycanius was fussing over luggage, the elder Lycan heaving two large suitcases up as his mate and their two juvenile cubs followed closely. Dressed in long travel cloaks, they stood out among the casual wear of most other beings. The Lycans tended to travel in groups, and sought to do so swiftly, almost always traveling with no luggage if they could help it. Their most important belongings were stored under the cloak, protecting them from view. 

Near the end of the platform, there was a large group of moth-like Tinso, their brightly-colored woven coverings announcing their presence to all. The patterns and colors of their clothes were a language in of themselves, identifying themselves to other Tinso. Their bodies had fur of various shades of white, gray, and black, and so they sought out more complicated patterns, colors, and hues in order to make themselves stand out. The most influential Tinso had the most variety of patterns and bright, vibrant colors.

The small mechanical head watched them in fascination as Howell walked. The large human glanced at the bright and colorful moths before glancing down at the small beak poking out of his collar.

“Later, Hu,” Howell said softly, reaching up to pat the bird’s beak gently. “We have somewhere to be.”

There was a series of chirps, and Howell chuckled and nodded as his companion spoke directly to his communication implant. Hungry!

“Yes, I’ll be sure to order when we get there. Sorry for not getting breakfast this morning.”

Howell patted the bird beak again, and it slid back underneath his collar and out of sight. He mentally admonished himself for skipping breakfast for himself and Hugin. Even if he was mechanical and composed of nanotech, the bird still needed to consume biomass to keep running. And if there was one thing Howell hated, it was skipping a meal. But when an opportunity comes knocking, you answer.

Howell grimaced as he trudged along the main transit hub of the port, ducking to avoid a vent, bypassing the blast of chilled air. He grumbled to himself, tightened his collar as much as he could, and pressed on for the tram station ahead of him. He idly checked the time displayed on his implant, making sure he was keeping to schedule.

He ignored the squabblings of a group of Crustovians, small shellfish-like scavengers. As he passed, Howell held his breath silently, trying his best to ignore the repulsive odor of the crustacean-like beings, his eyes watering slightly from the salty and filthy smell. They consumed just about any organic waste, and had no conventions about hygiene, so much of the Galaxy just left them to their business.

 Hugin popped out and watched as they fought over a piece of technology, each one trying to haggle and bargain with the bigger Cravatoa. It seemed that the bigger one had made a particularly valuable find that morning, much to the envy of the smaller beings. Howell certainly didn’t envy their lifestyle, being the scavengers and pilferers of the Galaxy, but he had to admit that they had a knack for resourcefulness and technology that he admired.

As he approached the security checkpoint, he gave a small sigh of relief when he saw there wasn’t a long line. Stepping up, he fell in line behind a rather small Eledia, a snake-like being with mottled green and brown scales. She was bundled up in all manner of heavy clothes and heated garments, almost lost in the amount of layers she was wearing. Howell immediately felt a pang of pity for the reptilian, as Triton would definitely be considered a hostile environment for her. Even though Howell was as warm blooded as you could get for a Terran, he was still shivering in the station’s environment. She glanced back at him, and he gave her a friendly smile and a nod, which she returned, her tongue flicking out and back in as she smelled the air.

Eledia were one of Howell’s favorite species, being fiercely intelligent as well as beautiful in their own way. The sheer variety in skin colors and patterns of scales meant that it was almost impossible to find identical Eledia. Most of them were shy at the start, but were surprisingly loyal and dedicated friends, once you established yourself as trustworthy. Howell had many friends among the Eledia, ones he couldn’t wait to talk to again once he completed his task. 

They shuffled forward a couple of meters, slowly, as each being was scanned for contraband and verified by the system. Anything that flagged on the milli-wave scanner meant waiting for a full spectrum scan, and Howell definitely didn’t have time for that.

“Hu, incognito mode. Be sure the chip is locked up tight,” Howell whispered. There was a single small beep in his mind as the nanotech bird retracted all of its parts to form a vambrace on Howell’s left arm, taking the shape of a small tablet device that looked exactly like any normal wrist-mounted long-range comm device.

Howell stepped up to the scanner and held out his arms, waiting as the multi-spectrum scanners went over his body. A second later, the green light blinked on, and the Terran guard waved him through without a sound. Howell nodded to the guard and hustled to the waiting elevator car, stopping only to let the Eledia on first. They both sighed in the warmth of the heated compartment before sharing a smile. They were joined by others entering the elevator, until the doors chimed.

The doors closed with a hiss, sealing the car air-tight, and then a second later, they were off, launching up through the rock. Howell let the inertia sink into him as the elevators accelerated past 1.2g. An ache in his neck prompted him to twist slightly, popping the vertebrae loudly. A couple of seconds later, another announcement was made for their arrival to the Merchant Floor.

There was a gentle ring of a bell as the front door of the diner opened and closed. Howell looked around the almost empty restaurant. He glanced at a couple of Lycans sitting in the far booth, talking quietly as they worked their way through their almost-bleeding raw steak.

He turned to the opposite end of the diner and walked over to the far end of the counter, his boots and the synthetic replicated plywood and tile floor making his footsteps sound louder than they should, even for a guy of his size. He sat down heavily, the replicated leather and foam-cushion seat settling as he perused the menu. The ancient faux Americana of the diner was enough to make anyone cringe, but his fixer had a flare for the eccentric and odd. ‘Not unlike this last job,’ he thought to himself with a wry smile.

“Hiya, hon, what can I getcha?” The robo-waitress, complete with fake blonde wig, apron, and rollerblades, asked loudly in a synthesized ancient Terran accent. She even simulated popping a bubble of gum after her question, a small pink balloon growing and shrinking from her mouth.

Howell looked over the paper menu. “Eggs, over easy, add cheddar. White toast, buttered. 4 pieces of bacon, a plate of pancakes, extra butter. Biscuits and gravy. Coffee, sugar, cream,” he requested. His vambrace vibrated slightly, Hugin excited at finally getting breakfast. Howell smirked, gently patting his arm calmly. The robo-waitress processed the order for a second, before repeating it back, short order style, loud enough for the kitchen to hear.

“Birdseed up! I gotta flop two, over easy, drag ‘em through Wisconsin, a hojack, a bridge party of meat candy, a short stack, extra axle grease, a heart attack on a rack, and a blonde with sand,” she called out, before looking back down at Howell. “That sound right, hun?”

He smirked and nodded, pleasantly surprised at the lengths Cindy’s Diner went to emulate the ancient American diner, despite being billions of kilometers from Earth, and hundreds of years out of date. The waitress turned back, popping her gum again, and went to fetch his coffee. He watched her go for a second, before glancing back at the door, hoping it would open soon. The vambrace vibrated again.

“Don’t worry, Hu, I got enough for both of us. Besides, I know how you like your toast,” he muttered, patting his arm again. He glanced back at the door and sighed dejectedly, turning back to the counter. 

“Verify the data again, please.” 

He got an indignant chirp back, prompting him to roll his eyes. 

“I know you’ve verified it three times already, Hu, just… please?” 

Howell closed his eyes. 

“I want out of here.”

A dark look covered Howell’s face as the memories floated to the surface, a deep frown dragging his eyes down as the robo-waitress slid a cup of coffee in front of him. He glanced up and nodded his thanks, and took a sip, enjoying the sweet yet bitter taste, before setting the mug down gently, resting his hand on the cup. A small tendril of metal wiggled its way down his wrist and hand into the mug. Howell smirked as Hugin took a sip of the coffee and chirped brightly, evidently enjoying the sugary drink.

“Drink up, bud,” Howell muttered affectionately. Hugin chirped before going back for another sip. Howell glanced out the windows, looking for any sign of his fixer, his contact for the handful of jobs that would help secure his passage off Triton. In his desperation to leave, he had to take jobs that he wouldn’t call the most upstanding. Stealing data from random offices around the moon, mostly, but so far, he hadn’t needed to hurt anyone. 

Another chirp from Hugin, followed closely by a message, data intact.

Howell nodded, a bit of relief hitting him. He acknowledged the message. He knew that it was fine. That was the fourth time that Hugin had sent him that message. But he still had a gut feeling that something was off. He glanced back at the clock on the wall. He was perfectly on time. But the meeting time was 2 minutes ago. It was very much unlike Radim to be late. Crazy, sure; unstable, definitely. But never late.

“Here ya go, hun!” the robowaitress called out as she set multiple plates of food on the counter before refilling his coffee. 

Howell took no preamble and tucked into the food, layering the eggs on the toast before biting down and enjoying the salty thickness of the yolk on the soft and crispy bread, groaning slightly from the sheer delight of actual food. His modified body required more calories than most people could eat in a day, thanks to his implants and modifications, so food was a pleasure he took great delight in.

Most people weren’t as extensively modified as Howell was, many choosing to replace damaged limbs or upgrade for added ability. In Howell’s case, he really didn’t have a choice. Losing half of his body in an accident a decade and a half prior made the choice for him. It was either live life as half a person, or get the implants. He made his choice and had to live with it, increased metabolism and all.

He ate and watched Hugin take small bites of everything, enjoying watching the bird eat in his own unique way; nanofilaments stretched and consumed small chunks of matter at time. The bell above the door tingled again, and Howell swallowed before looking back at the newcomer. A lanky, yet short reptilian, wearing what looked like a knit poncho overtop a gray suit, stood in the doorway, looking around the diner with wide black eyes, a smile spreading on his green scaly face, a pulse of yellow flowing down his exposed skin, before looking directly at Howell.

“Finally,” Howell said shortly. “Had me worried, Radim,” before turning back to his lunch, gesturing to the seat next to him. The reptilian shuffled towards the seat, his short legs patting on the tile floor.

“Fassssscinating placsssse, this is,” Radim said softly, a long hissing sound coming out on his ‘s’ and soft ‘c’, looking around the diner again before looking down at the food in front of Howell.

“Fasssscinating, indeed,” he repeated softly.

“Hiya, hon, what can I getcha?” The robo-waitress asked, wheeling over in front of the lizardman.

“Oh, uh, coffee for me, thanksssss,” Radim said, staring up at the waitress in curiosity, almost enthralled with how unusual the whole scene was. The waitress nodded, popped her gum and rolled away to get the drink. Radim’s head slowly rotated around, taking in the diner.

“Fassssscinating,” he repeated.

“Radim. Business,” Howell cut in, looking down at the much smaller being with a stern smirk.

“Huh? Oh yessss, bussssinesssss,” Radim said, as he snapped out of zoning out. “You have the data?”

“Confirmed,” Howell said.

A thought to Hugin and he unfolded and released the small silicon crystal chip, and fed it down to Howell’s waiting hand. He passed it to the lizardman as he continued to eat, wolfing down large sections of maple syrup covered pancakes, groaning in delight at the taste.

Radim took the chip and pulled a glass tablet from under his poncho, slotting the chip into it. The waitress returned with a cup and carafe, and poured the hot drink, to which the lizardman nodded his thanks. He reached for the cup and gulped it down rapidly, smacking and licking his lips.

“Delicioussss,” Radim remarked, placing the cup back on the counter.

 There was a small chime, which drew the reptillian’s attention, and Radim began scrolling through the information that came up on the screen. Howell continued eating, patiently waiting for the lizard to finish, fully aware of the being’s tendency to lose himself in his work. 

Radim’s species, Gogari, was not unlike Earth geckos, wide eyes, sticky hands, but with a huge focus issue and relatively fragile bodies. They kept to themselves mostly, but usually hired other species to do certain jobs for them. They had developed like most other species had with the Galaxy: rapidly, with evolution keeping many traits that weren’t always the most beneficial. 

“Ah, verrrrrry good, friend Marcussss,” the lizard man purred slightly. “Everything is here.” He spun around in the chair, and hopped off, heading to the door.

“Hey, wait,” Howell called out, turning around, glaring at the lizard indignantly. “What about the deal? My ticket out of here?”

Radim stopped and glanced back, one of his huge black eyes staring at Howell. “Ah yessss, apologiessss. Your ticket off Triton issss waiting in sublevel seven, bay 4, Marcussss. Good doing bussssinesssss with you,” he said, blinking once. He turned, stopped, and looked back.

“Fair winds, Marcusss,” Radim said, before glancing around the diner again, and quickly turning and pushing the door open, vanishing into the chilly Triton air.

Howell huffed in frustration, shaking his head as he turned back to finish his food. How typical of the gecko to just up and leave, no rapport or camaraderie building, just business or whatever held his fancy. Howell couldn’t begrudge him from wanting to escape back to his climate controlled office, but his abrupt departure made the uneasy feeling in his stomach more intense.

“Yeah, yeah…” he muttered as the robowaitress placed the payment tablet in front of him. He placed his palm on the device and transferred the money, watching more of what little money he has access to vanish before stuffing the last of his lunch into his mouth and downing his coffee.

“Thanks, hun! Have a good one, come back soon, ya’ hear?” followed him as he stepped out onto the artificially-lit street,  dodging several pedestrians of various species. He glanced around as he tugged his jacket tightly, the brisk circulating air of the station keeping it a chilly 8° constantly. Bay 223 was on the other end of the station, which meant a bit of a hike. At least the walking might warm him up.

“Fucking…” he said, shivering slightly as his skin cooled down, the blood rushing to his stomach and away from his extremities. “Let’s get this over with, eh, Hu?” A small chirp was his response.