One never got used to the sight. 

As the boiling sun lowered in the horizon, casting a reddening light across the expanse of wasteland ground, the city loomed ahead. The light just reaching the cliffs that blocked the gangers and road warriors from entering the Chorapolis that was Neo-Mecca, the Dragonfly passed over easily, plunging into sudden darkness before the city's neon lights burst into view. Refugees called it the 'City of the Full Moon' from how bright it always remained, scholars theorizing it also hearkened back to the Crescent Moon of its Islamic roots centuries ago. From their vantage point, it was hard to tell what was where, many of the buildings reaching the lower atmosphere and some of the fueling spires even cresting the stratosphere. There wasn't a structure in the city that did not reach five hundred meters, many of the shorter buildings filled with the poor and destitute, known as 'skyslums' and made of shoddy and outdated building materials. Those that lived in the taller buildings weren't much better off. The Dragonfly entered a speedway seven hundred and eighty seven meters above the ground, passing huge towerblocks of apartments and shopping complexes where one could purchase anything from imported food to plasma weapons to pleasurable company. 

"There," Dirk said, pointing a gloved finger at the floating display. Jocasta subtly moved her hands on the spot and spread them out to zoom in, showcasing one of the spires with towers accompanying it like smaller versions of itself, the tops of the building swirling in curved architecture, reminiscent of ancient palaces on Old Earth, thousands of years ago. "Sector C-34. Passcode is 3968173KIL. Park on the northern end. We'll take the Loftivators up with our baggage into the presidium. Volkavax's Chambers will be up there." 

"Anything I should know about him?" She asked as he went to prep the 'cargo.' Luckily they would have skiffs to carry whatever baggage they needed at the landing zone. The northwing was for employees and contractors, with all the proper equipment available. Business associates parked on the east wing, close friends with their yachts and floating villas on the west, and the south was off limits. If Dirk had to guess, it was where the slaves were shipped. But he had never deigned to find out. At her question, Dirk stopped and glanced over his shoulder. 

"Yeah, let me do the talking unless he addresses you. And unless you want to be recruited into his troupe of dancing girls, I'd put on some pants."