Snow was beginning to fall from the darkening gray sky as Nick Gerrin and Jamie Reilly walked into the central courtyard of the makeshift complex in the spaceport of Novrodina. From the second story of each of the buildings, a spotlight flashed to life and a voice boomed “Stop. Wait right there ‘till we come for you”.

Gerrin and Reilly stopped in the middle of the square. “Oh, yeah, this is going to go well”, Reilly murmured.

“Bizui (shut it)”, Gerrin shot back quietly. They both looked back at the Nordic Troll, parked a kilometer behind them, and turned back toward the glaring lights, shielding their eyes and surveying the compound they stood in: at each inner corner of the square, a two-story adobe brick building, with a guard emplacement on the balcony, stood watch over the compound. Several large cargo containers walled off the spaces between the buildings forming a large square, with one side open to the rest of the dockyard. Waist-high concrete barriers blocked off part of the open side. Gerrin and Reilly returned their attention to the two buildings.

Shortly two silhouettes approached from the building to the left. Gerrin and Reilly waited calmly, studying the silhouettes carefully: both were dressed for the weather and carrying some sort of automatic weapon.

The two guards stopped ten feet in front of Gerrin and Reilly, guns lowered but ready. “You carrying weapons?” the man on the right asked firmly.

“Will we need them?” Gerrin shot back in reply.

The lead man showed no reaction. “Lock your hands behind your head”, he ordered, raising his weapon.

Reilly remarked sarcastically “Oh, I can feel the warmth happening now”, as he and Gerrin stepped back quickly and drew their own weapons. “We like our weapons where they are”, Gerrin responded.

The guard’s face was stone. “Turn over your weapons o