made a point of taking a long stroll along the various stalls, eagerly purchasing a few cheap tourist items and a richly colored skirt.
Though very tempted, Eve only took a peek at the long tables laden with Rodasia leaves. Both the sight and scent of the popular Rydian recreational drug were nearly overpowering, and she yearned for the sensation of fresh, lush leaves on her tongue, along with the soft, tranquil glow coursing throughout her entire body.
Better to wait, though. Rodasia had a fearsome reputation outside of the Rydian system, and a single newcomer would be unlikely to brave it first off. Besides, right now she needed all of her senses intact. The Rodasia salesman made a point of holding up a large, succulent leaf with one hand while motioning her over with the other. But she simply gave a half-wave of her own, quickly retreating down the causeway.
Catching the next shuttle down to the surface, Eve soon found herself walking the streets of Blasaria, the capital city of the capital planet.
As a child, Eve recalled how dazzling Blasaria had been, with gleaming streets and proud citizens. Now, though, the full impact of the Gandian occupation fully sank in.
Standing outside the spaceport, Eve saw black uniformed troops everywhere, strutting about with an entitled air. The skies over Blasaria used to buzz with private cars and public transports. Now, there was only the occasional small vehicle, interspersed with frequent military patrols. The entire area appeared covered with a layer of grime, the people downcast.
With her two bags hovering in tow, Eve spent an hour walking about the once majestic city. On three separate occasions she was required to present her visitor identification badge, the Gandian troops releasing her with a disappointed glower. As was the local custom, several men tried to talk with her along the way, but she politely brushed them off. Perhaps in time, but now she simply needed to get her bearings.
It was very sad, though. Her potential suitors took the rejection with great disappointment, as if some anonymous interlude with a stranger was the only real pleasure left to them.
After a while she passed a corner department store, a famous shopping destination of a decade before. Eve could still remember her own excitement upon being taken there by her mother, the beautiful dresses they had bought. Now it was a commandeered Gandian military center, the grand open windows crackling with the sick yellow hue of a force field.
Depressed, she dragged herself several more blocks to the Promenade, the once trendy business and government center split down the middle by the Farensia River. The water’s surface was now fouled with flotsam and garbage, completely devoid of the small craft that once stretched as far as the eye could see. Many of the lofty, arching bridges had been blocked off completely, with military guards controlling the rest.
Casually stretching, she once more checked to see if she was being followed. The man with the dark jacket, hadn’t she seen him near the spaceport? Her pulse quickening, she now turned back, walking directly past him in the opposite direction. But the man just kept going, hunched over, taking little notice of her. A professional Vextar operative wasn’t likely to be flushed by such a simple trick anyway, but you never knew.
Stop imagining things, Eve told herself, walking halfway out on one of the few open river spans, resting her arms on the once pleasant stone railing, now scarred and half torn down. Paranoia could often be a more dangerous enemy to the undercover operative than any real opponent, her instructors had often told her. Take note of everything that’s really there, but don’t imagine anything that isn’t. Only now was she beginning to see the value of such advice.
Well, it was time to get going, before somebody really did take notice. Turning about, however, Eve stopped short at the sight of the building behind her.
The lower level
Though very tempted, Eve only took a peek at the long tables laden with Rodasia leaves. Both the sight and scent of the popular Rydian recreational drug were nearly overpowering, and she yearned for the sensation of fresh, lush leaves on her tongue, along with the soft, tranquil glow coursing throughout her entire body.
Better to wait, though. Rodasia had a fearsome reputation outside of the Rydian system, and a single newcomer would be unlikely to brave it first off. Besides, right now she needed all of her senses intact. The Rodasia salesman made a point of holding up a large, succulent leaf with one hand while motioning her over with the other. But she simply gave a half-wave of her own, quickly retreating down the causeway.
Catching the next shuttle down to the surface, Eve soon found herself walking the streets of Blasaria, the capital city of the capital planet.
As a child, Eve recalled how dazzling Blasaria had been, with gleaming streets and proud citizens. Now, though, the full impact of the Gandian occupation fully sank in.
Standing outside the spaceport, Eve saw black uniformed troops everywhere, strutting about with an entitled air. The skies over Blasaria used to buzz with private cars and public transports. Now, there was only the occasional small vehicle, interspersed with frequent military patrols. The entire area appeared covered with a layer of grime, the people downcast.
With her two bags hovering in tow, Eve spent an hour walking about the once majestic city. On three separate occasions she was required to present her visitor identification badge, the Gandian troops releasing her with a disappointed glower. As was the local custom, several men tried to talk with her along the way, but she politely brushed them off. Perhaps in time, but now she simply needed to get her bearings.
It was very sad, though. Her potential suitors took the rejection with great disappointment, as if some anonymous interlude with a stranger was the only real pleasure left to them.
After a while she passed a corner department store, a famous shopping destination of a decade before. Eve could still remember her own excitement upon being taken there by her mother, the beautiful dresses they had bought. Now it was a commandeered Gandian military center, the grand open windows crackling with the sick yellow hue of a force field.
Depressed, she dragged herself several more blocks to the Promenade, the once trendy business and government center split down the middle by the Farensia River. The water’s surface was now fouled with flotsam and garbage, completely devoid of the small craft that once stretched as far as the eye could see. Many of the lofty, arching bridges had been blocked off completely, with military guards controlling the rest.
Casually stretching, she once more checked to see if she was being followed. The man with the dark jacket, hadn’t she seen him near the spaceport? Her pulse quickening, she now turned back, walking directly past him in the opposite direction. But the man just kept going, hunched over, taking little notice of her. A professional Vextar operative wasn’t likely to be flushed by such a simple trick anyway, but you never knew.
Stop imagining things, Eve told herself, walking halfway out on one of the few open river spans, resting her arms on the once pleasant stone railing, now scarred and half torn down. Paranoia could often be a more dangerous enemy to the undercover operative than any real opponent, her instructors had often told her. Take note of everything that’s really there, but don’t imagine anything that isn’t. Only now was she beginning to see the value of such advice.
Well, it was time to get going, before somebody really did take notice. Turning about, however, Eve stopped short at the sight of the building behind her.
The lower level
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