The only men that speak aloud for future times to hear.
Hallan walked down the promenade of the station with his hand on his gun. The Guristas Gauss Pistol made him feel safer out here in Syndicate. Sarah was back in the Hangar, trying to find them a new ship.
Hallan passed by a bar, looked in and smiled. A group of normal pilots were drinking heavily and singing. He kept walking, as he had to be somewhere.
He finally arrived at his destination and pushed a button next to the door. It slid open with a small rush of air and he stepped inside. The light inside was a bit brighter than the outside, with a blue tint, and he closed his eyes for a moment as they adjusted.
He looked around after that, and found the desk he was looking for. There was a line. He fell in behind some gruff looking fellow with a slight tinge of body odor. Hallan closed his eyes and chuckled.
"Next," Came a voice from in front of the smelly man, and he stepped forward.
Hallan watched the man produce his data card from some pocket, almost wondering where it'd come from. Perhaps that non-space between universes, where only pain and agony and data cards exist in solid form, maybe..."
"Next," Came a voice from in front of him, and Hallan stepped forward as the other man walked to his left. Hallan produced his own data card and handed it to the lady behind the desk. He noticed her glasses first, and then her wrinkled hands. He imagined her to be seventy, and she seemed to enjoy the power she held.
"It seems you owe us some money Mr. Turrek," She said in a high pitched voice.
"Yes ma'am, I'd like to pay it," Before he even spoke she was sliding his card through another slot.
"Your fee's paid, please enjoy the library,"