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railing. It wasn’t a
standard debarkation port, but it was left unrepaired in order to reduce congestion
at the proper stations.
    Cal authorized a twenty percent tip for the driver before
hopping over to the pedway – a pretty standard gratuity in return for getting
the passenger to his destination in one piece.
    He strolled back toward the pinch for a few hundred yards
before reaching the café. He walked in to the back, his body shuddering
involuntarily from the delicious heat, and he took a table near a rear exit
that opened onto a relatively busy hallway. He ordered a couple of signature
house drinks before pressing his palm to the glass surface of the table,
activating his own little corner of the city’s data hive. He selected the
graphic novel he’d just purchased and lifted the display up into the space
above the table.
    He slowly worked his way through the holographic pages while
watching the pedestrians through the café’s open front. He used a spoon to eat
the layer of algae at the top of his drink before taking a sip of the
heavily-caffeinated beverage. The cooking process burst the cell walls of the algae,
releasing their caffeine into the broth. It was a popular post-shift snack that
helped keep body and soul together until the evening meal.
    A medium-build Ufangian walked in and headed for the table.
Cal gave a barely-perceptible nod of approval. Five minutes early. The guy took
things seriously and he always made sure he got to a meeting place early to
scope out any potential problems.
    “Good story?” the Ufangian – Cal didn’t know his name and
wanted it to stay that way – asked as he sat down and took a big gooey gulp of
the drink that had been waiting for him.
    Cal winced. He didn’t mind the algae on its own, and the
remaining beverage was palatable enough, but he just couldn’t bring himself to
consume the two together like the locals. It worked with his cover, as few
Tauhentans followed the local customs.
    Cal looked back up at his story and shrugged. “It’s all
right.” He didn’t bother to ask if the Ufangian had been followed. He wouldn’t
be sitting here if that were the case. “What did you find out?”
    A long slurp. He leaned back. “There’ve been a lot of
spicewood items showing up in Tsekoh lately. Even down this way, we’ve been
seeing smaller trinkets.” He grinned. “Up in the money-levels, folks are
showing off some pretty expensive items. Boxes, hairpins, slate covers, vehicle
trim…”
    Cal nodded. The latest fad among the wealthy corporate elite
was spicewood. The only reason for an expensive product to even exist was that
it allowed the rich to differentiate themselves from those who weren’t. He’d
heard there was even a restaurant up top, near the tether anchor, that had
started grilling fish in thin sheets of spicewood.
    It was incredibly extravagant, seeing as there were only a
few plantations in the Republic that could keep spicewood trees alive and they
needed vast amounts of terra-conditioning equipment to eke out a few trunks a
season.
    It was the first time he’d ever heard of spicewood being
used as a consumable. “So where is it coming from?”
    The man took another deep drink, following it up with a
sigh. “I began tracking it from several different vendors, posing as a backer
who had some credits to invest. I ran into a lot of dead ends, of course, but
you don’t get the grains without the husks…”
    Cal held his tongue. He appreciated the Ufangian’s skill at
investigation but the guy had a dramatic streak that was better left
un-encouraged. He loved to play up the difficulties in his assignments.
Ninety-nine percent of the time, he was a complete sleeper. The rare occasions
when Cal had to make use of his abilities were probably the high point of his
dreary existence and he liked to make the most of it.
    A chuckle. “All right, on to the harvest.” He leaned in
toward Cal. “The one commonality in all this is a warehouse, five