"I wonder if it is a coincidence that all this crime is happening right where our guy is supposed to be?" Jocasta pondered as they made their way through the usual assortment of dockside dives, ship chandleries, strip clubs, and brothels towards the central lifts. Each lift was a massive tube that ran the length of the spire. Most of the lengths anyway, the very top and very bottom levels were not so easily accessed, requiring passage to private lifts and passing the local security, be it up spire guards in gleaming battledress or battle hardened street thugs who made their living taxing passage through stinking access shafts.

"Unlikely," Dirk grunted as the stepped past the spaceport security and into the large lift car. It rumbled down, stopping several times to take on and offload supplies and people. For the most part it seemed to be food going down from the dock levels above, or perhaps hydroponic farms and manufacturing plants above.

"Now reaching Fallorn Sector," a crackly voice announced as the lift stopped and the doors opened. The blast of noise was immediate and intense. Cheering voices and blaring music crashed in so hard that the dragonfly drones who had been peeking from Jocasta's jacket ducked back in momentary auditory shock. The wide boulevard before them was thronged with people in bright garments, singing and dancing. Street vendors were crammed against the boulevard walls hawking food and drink of all kinds. Performers danced and capered for the crowds, in some cases with accompanying pickpockets working their marks, though whether this was a plan or just a happy side effect Jocasta couldn't tell. Fireworks crashed off the walls and ricocheted off the high ceilings bursting close enough above the crowd to singe people. 

"Some party," Jocasta remarked as her drones once again stuck their sensor encrusted heads from concealment. Dozens of carrots lit up marking weapons in various stages of concealment.

"I wonder what is going on..."