Dyton, at last. She was finally in the right town on the right continent of the right planet, but after 6 days travelling in the cargo hold of a semi-derelict goods transporter, Magda could not afford to rest just yet. She had somewhere to be, but she needed to know exactly where that was first.

At 24 years of age she’d seen a lot, some of it in the last 6 days. Magda flexed her right hand and examined the shadow of what had been a nasty bruise a couple of days ago… That hadn’t got what he’d expected when he came looing in her direction, instead of a leg over, he’d got a black eye, a cracked rib or two and a funny walk. The captain had told her he’d been confined to quarters and given the sack, but there was clearly some sympathy for him amongst his crewmates. Her meals got smaller, and rather suspect, and her senses got sharper for the rest of the trip. Still, you get what you can afford, and as far as a corner of a cargo hold goes – it had been a bargain.

Every fibre in her body cried out for a bed and at least 12 hours sleep, but she knew she needed to find a pub first. The biggest, noisiest one about, both easy to spot and easy to blend in to.

No hard spirits, although she would have enjoyed some right then… Instead she purchased a mug of the most watered down beer she’d ever paid real money for, and settled down at a table by the wall where she could observe the goings on around her. She had spotted the group she was here to find the moment she’d walked in the door, now she needed to wait, watch and see where they led her…

There were about a dozen of them of various sizes shapes and ages, men and women, playing or observing an animated game of tall card, and clearly had been enjoying something other than watered-down beer. A cheerful, round faced young woman was apparently buying drinks as penance for losing the precious hand, whilst a quieter young man was shuffling for the next. Notes, both familiar and unfamiliar in their appearance, were changing hands, and there was much being s