I used my newfound freedom poorly. I stood, hand on crate, staring at the sealed ship before me until at last a robot responsible for the dock came over and ushered me outside. The bay's doors closed resolutely behind me, leaving me in a small awning that opened out to the bustling throng of people on the thoroughfare. Reddish dust caked the broad roadway, cemented in place by feet and wheels and propulsion fields. Mars had become an agricultural breadbasket for the extraterrestrial colonies since its habitation, but any dirt not held down by crops had a tendency to drift and invade everything.
A few dour looks from passers-by brought my focus back and I realized both that I needed to find lodgings and that I was incapable of doing so. I had no money whatsoever, and even more concerning, I had no identification. Virtually every living person had a unique identification that tracked their finances, possessions, legal issues, and any other number of things. The closest I had was a tattoo around my neck linked to a number in the Voss Technologies database that proclaimed me the possession of another.
Anxious, I stepped out onto the road and allowed myself to be drawn along with the stream of foot traffic moving for the markets arrayed in the town's center. A mix of humanity crowded the path, ranging from darkly clad men ferrying their own cargo to and from the market to small families ambling their way unhurriedly along. Every so often the crate floating at my side garnered more attention than I would have liked, and when I spotted the welcome sign for a hotel a few blocks away from the market I gratefully ducked inside and away from prying eyes.
The lobby was scrubbed clean, white metal surfaces dimly reflecting their surroundings. A few unoccupied couches sat in a cluster off to one side, and a bored-looking attendant stood behind a counter opposite the doorway I came in. He stared at me with utter disinterest, and I had to force myself to square my shoulders to fend off the awkwardness pressing down on me as I slunk across to the desk.
"Yes, hello," I said. "I might be back later to book a room later. I was hoping..." He continued staring. "... You could tell me the rate for a night?"
He gave a barely-perceptible sigh and straightened, bored expression replaced with a professionally-amiable guise, though the feeling of awkwardness did not subside. He keyed at the screen embedded on his side of the desk.
"You're lucky we have any vacancy, this time of year. Five hundred units for the night. That's seven meters by seven, one room. Need to be out by eleven no matter when you check in."
I reached up to adjust the dark shades over my eyes, nodding slowly.
"Right," I apologetically mumbled. Before I could say anything else his gaze lowered to fasten on the screen again, and I licked my lips uneasily. "That's all I really needed," I reasoned aloud, starting to backpedal. "I'll just get out of your hair."
Relieved to be away from the desk attendant, if discouraged by the price he had set, I rejoined the throng of people traveling outside and began to consider my options. It was already evening, and the sun was beginning to take on a reddish cast where it hung some distance above the horizon. If I wanted to stay safe and mostly inconspicuous, I would have to come up with five hundred units in the span of a few hours. My gaze fell to the container silently floating along at my side, then down the road to the markets just coming into view. My best bet, likely my only one, would be to sell some of the my possessions.
"That'd be easier if I had something worth selling," I breathed to myself.
The central square of the town radiated out from an expansive section of durable metal tiles. Nearly a hundred yards at each side, it remained almost entirely unadorned save for a small memorial in the center, though I was too far to read its details. Mobile stalls, made of plexiglass or ceramic plates or canvas, crowded the entirety of the square, composing a network of tight avenues and knots that barely adhered to any form of order. The crowd drew together all the tighter as I approached one of the mouths leading into the sprawl. Shoulders knitting, I instructed the shipping crate to follow close in my wake.
The merchants I passed fielded an unimaginable array of products - from food to jewelry, to holographic novels to animals. I wanted to oblige them all, but pressed on through the crowd deliberately. Eventually I caught sight of a hawker selling fine clothing and fought my way over. Nearer, I leaned forward to shout over the din,
"Is it always this busy?"
He flashed a grin. "Traveler! No, this is our Founding Day, our anniversary! Everyone is here." He gestured to the garments surrounding him and inquired, "You like what you see?"
I opened my mouth to answer, but before any words came out my gaze lifted to scan over the array of dresses placed together behind the merchant's right shoulder. They were gorgeous, I thought.
"I need money," I said, forcing my attention back and leaning forward to be heard. Gesturing to the crate and guiding it back to my side, I continued, "And I have some things you might sell? Would you be willing to trade?"
His eyes narrowed as he listened, a calculating look surfacing as he glanced between the crate and me. "Only legal trades here," he replied, spreading a hand on the counter of his booth and squinting down at the crate. "Give me your ID. What do you have to offer?"
"I don't have one," I admitted, a sinking feeling in my gut. He stared at me with renewed interest, eyes widening in disbelief. There was only one section of society inside the asteroid belt that voluntarily went without registered identification, and I had neither the rangy build nor the near-white, platinum hair to blend in as one of that eclectic tribe. His eyes pried at me, and I was on the verge of tendering a halfhearted explanation before he said,
"I can't just acquire new wares, girl. Each sale's taxed, and without an ID you'd be ducking the system. We have licenses to sell here, you know. Licenses." He gestured in a broad wave, as if to encompass the whole dizzying buzz of activity around us. "You won't find a single person willing to risk that just to make a deal with you. Now buy something, or you're just taking up space."
I gave a little nod and slipped away. Starting to wring my hands, then stopping myself with a tense breath, I slowly made my way through the milling people and, finally, out the other side of the market. The scent of heavy spices and meat hung in the air, and now that my prospects had become even more dour the smell was torture. Pace quickening, I set off down the streets and bit back a sudden rush of anxiety. I took turns without thinking and, as I gradually worked my way further and further from the city center, the surrounding buildings degenerated. The roads narrowed, trash and wear became more apparent along the walkways, and the sun - long since hidden behind the buildings rising on every side - gave in to the dusk.
A hand clamped down on my arm, jarring me out of my pace. I reflexively let out a yelp and spun, stiff-arming the man emerging from a narrow alley beside me. He let out a surprised grunt and stumbled back, freeing me to dart a few steps away.
"Relax," he rasped through strained lungs, looking at me with clear surprise. He was tall, at least a head higher than me, with a beefy frame and dirty, worn-out clothing. The intensity of his gaze made me uneasy. There was an oily quality to the man, permeating the smile he offered me, and a beadiness to his eyes that the disarming spread of his hands did nothing to mitigate.
"What do you want?" I asked, reaching out to check the crate beside me. It had trouble with rapid movements, sometimes.
"I was just saying it's not a good idea," he answered, advancing to match my slow backpedal. "Being alone, with some cargo, at night. What've you got in there, huh? No reason you've got to get hurt, doll." The friendliness he projected wavered, then gave way to dark avarice.
"You can't," I said, the hairs on my nape rising, a wretchedly apologetic lilt to the reply. "I need..." I trailed off and took a longer step backward. The man leaned forward, muscles tensing, and just as I pivoted away to run I saw his eyes flick from me to something just beyond. I had barely finished turning when something slammed into the side of my head in a white-hot flash of pain.
***
"Here now, get up, girl," a voice commanded, distant and muffled. Coming to groggily, I pushed up to sit. It was cold. I was sitting on a set of wide marble steps, only a few high, that led from a street to a sealed door behind me, and a pair of men in gray uniforms loomed over me. I glanced around, hazily taking in the scene, and as one of them asked something indistinct things came back to me.
Something had hit me hard. In fact, reaching up I felt a crusty smear of dried blood, beneath skin tender enough to make me jerk my fingers away with a wince. I came to only a few minutes after the blow, if that, but by then there had been no trace of the man or whatever else had accompanied him. The crate had vanished. My jacket, too. I had risen soon after and wandered back closer to the square, aimlessly, and when hunger and cold had both numbed enough to ignore I had simply found a quiet empty space and slept. Not empty enough, it seemed.
"Well?" the man nearest me demanded patiently.
"What?" I croaked in answer, fighting back a cough and looking between them. "I... Sorry, what?"
He stared down at me for a few seconds, then glanced over at his companion. Looking back, he said,
"You can't sleep here." A lazy gesture with the truncheon dangling from one hand to indicate my face, and, "You can't bleed here, either. What happened to you?"
"Mugged," I explained, glancing down. I scrunched my face up, clearing my throat, and reached up to gingerly probe my temples.
"Uh huh," came his unenthused reply. "And where did that happen?"
I paused, looking up, and examined the men more closely. Their matching uniforms had a crest I didn't recognize upon it, and the one speaking to me had an intricate symbol decorating his right shoulder. The farther one, lounging against the building I sat before as he watched, bore a similar but less complex decoration.
"Down... I don't know," I admitted uncertainly. I couldn't remember most of the turns I had taken to and from the market, nor even where I was now. The pair looked comfortable, and I wanted to smooth things over with them. They were almost undoubtedly the colony's police force, or what passed for it, though, and that was a problem.
