"Extracting," Junebug stated/thought, her consciousness merging with the computer her thoughts surging down the circuits in a stream of electrons. Reality stuttered into existence around them and Junebug felt a wrenching sense of loss which passes almost instantly. The sensor boards lit up as data from the material universe flooded in. Before them hung a greenish blue world with a single large continent dominating the lower half. There were several other worlds in the system but they seemed to be either gas giants or unremarkable rocks.

"Looks like... one spaceport with a lit beacon, sporadic radio traffic, fairly sparce settlement, or fairly low tech," Taya reported looking gray and shaky. Junebug had never found that the wrenching psychic shocks got any better, but with time you learned to deal with them. The junction had obviously been tough on her and she hadn't yet fully recovered from the strain. Junebug hoped they could take some time to rest and recuperate wherever this was.

"Any local net?" Junebug asked, tuning the sensors on the spaceport beacon Taya had mentioned.

"Doesn't look like they are that organised," Taya said a little disapprovingly.

"Beacon lists the world as Tiosinte, a protectorate of The Caliphate of Tarsaros, whatever that is," she commented. Spaceport beacons were not uncommon on more out of the way worlds that lacked centralized orbital nets. They usually provided basic information about the world as well as docking procedures and fees. Few worlds had several of them unless there was a political situation that made competing spaceports necessary. 

"Docking fee five hundred credits and a further hundred in departure duties, tankage and gases, blah blah blah," Junebug continued reaching the end of the the meager data stream. No information on trade, no employment listings, no data on local conditions.

"Well, they will have charts if they have a spaceport," Junebug said, "and we might as well look over the damage from the junction with gravity under us. Take us in Neil."

"You got it babe," Neil said and shaped their course for reentry.

The Highlander settled onto the cracked concrete pad, the plasma thrusters starting brief fires fueled by weeds that grew up through the fissures on the landing surface. The spaceport was an space of perhaps forty acres enclosed by a curtain wall of synthetic stone. Presumably this was meant to protect the settlement they had overflown on the way in should one of the freighters under go a reactor failure rather than to defend the spaceport, manning such a fortification would take at half a battalion. Several hangers, apparently used for storage rather than to shelter ships, leaned haphazard and rusted, roofed in a combination of corrugated iron and structural plastic sheeting. A control tower of sorts stood roughly in the center of the space, a sun faded flag blowing lazily from its peak. Well it was a tower at least, they hadn't responded to any hails Sayeeda had attempted either by radio or with laser communicator. A battered looking freighter, several times the size of the Highlander sat on the other side of the port looking battered and ugly. It had power readings but no crew were immediately evident.

Junebug, Neil and Taya walked down the ramp and onto the cooling concrete. A shabby looking man was walking from the terminal with a clip board in his hand. He was unshaven and wore a grease spotted shirt in a garish red printed with white flowers and a pair of cargo shorts that contrasted to the steel toed boots that completed the ensemble. He reached the group and paused pulling a cigarette from his mouth and extending a hand. Junebug reached and and took it, shaking it formally.

"Welcome to Tiosinte captain...?" he asked.

"Cykali," Junebug supplied, "Junebug Cykali." If the name struck the man as odd he didn't show it, eyeing both her and Taya with appreciation, his eyes sliding over Neil.

"I'm Warner, Tobin Warner, I run the spaceport for the Tars," he intorduced himself before chuckling good naturedly.

"Not that they give a fuck what happens here of course, so long as they get their port duties, speaking of which..." he extended a hand.

"Six hundred credits please," he said with a smile. Junebug couldn't help but smile, graft on such a minor scale was almost charming and she passed over six of the platinum inlaid credit chips. Warner made them vanish with a skillful flick of his wrist.

"This is our first time on Tiosinte Mr Warner," Junebug told him, "Can you fill us in on conditions here?" Warner smiled tiredly.

"Its a fucking shit show, that is how conditions are," Warner told her, waving for them to walk with him. Obidently the followed him into the base of the tower. The interior was pleasantly cool compared to the tropical heat outside. A single ceiling fan turned slowly and music of some kind of acoustic harp blared from a music projector unit.

"There are a couple of gangs here that supply danac to the cartels on Easterling, they are at each others throats," Warner explained picking up a large pitcher of iced tea and pouring four glasses without bothering to ask them if they wanted any. He made a magnanimous gesture to the table of battered wood and Junebug took a seat.

"Danac?" Junebug asked and Warner arched his eyebrow.

"Gods where are you from? Danac is a narcotic that grows here, only grows here really, though it grows like a weed, freighters from the cartel come in every couple days and pick up the raw stuff." He made a gesture with his cup towards the other freighter on the pad, accidentally splashing tea onto his shirt and squaring colorfully.  

"The gangs supply the cartel, and make everyone else miserable," Warner complained.

"They don't bother the spaceport though?" Junebug queried. Warner shook his head.

"Nah, the Tars could fucking gut them in a hot second if they managed to piss them off enough to notice, though that aint easy to do, no point in risking it when they already got everything else. If you want my advice, do whatever you need to do as quickly as you can and get the fuck out of here."