Dhomhes smiled back at him when he released the call.
"Traveling, are you?" Dhomhes asked.
Olmed glared at him. "Did you have something to do with this?"
"You seem to think I have more power than I do. I'm just the son of a council member on one little planet."
Olmed rolled his eyes. "What is it? What do I owe?"
"Straight to business. I like it."
"I want to know what this is about,” Olmed said. His gut growled with apprehension. “You had me come do this?”
“I didn’t make you do anything. You have free will,” Dhomhes said. “But I might have requested that if you were available, I would like to see you on Disguised Serenity.”
“What’s the matter? You need an errand?”
“You remember the special tooling we use for mining the citricite? It’s not like any other kind of equipment out there.”
Citricite was a very valuable ore—and very fragile. It was more than an ore, but a power source, when it was properly refined. If it was extracted incorrectly, it could blow up a mine, and everyone in it. The wrong sort of handling made the ore dangerous, so Kantenans had created tools specific for the job of handling and refining citricite.
The procedures had become ritualistic. Every Kantenan, coming to age, had to mine and find their own sample of the ore. The ore was an important part of Kantenan life.
And its care and handling were of paramount importance.
“I remember.”
“Someone is stealing it and selling it.”
Olmed raised his eyebrow. “That sounds like a Kantenan issue. Since I’m not Kantenan—”
“I could get your honor back. Get your sentence revoked if you could track down the thieves.”
“And if I say no?”
“You’re not going to,” Dhomhes said.
“Maybe I don’t want to go back. There’s nothing there for me now.” There was very little left on Kantenan.
He told himself he had no need to go back. Yet thinking that he might be able to? That awoke something in him he'd not realized lived within.
Dhomhes waved his hand. “Look. Call this me requesting that favor. We have to find who’s doing this.”
“Someone’s making off with your tech. They’re not stealing citricite.”
“If they’re stealing the tech then they’re trying to mine it. Keep your eyes open. See if you can run across who is selling stolen goods.”
Olmed rolled his eyes. “You do know this is Disguised Serenity, don’t you? There’s a reason thieves and smugglers like this station to do business. It’s neutral territory.”
“Exactly,” Dhomhes said. “Everyone knows where it is and how to get there. Whoever is stealing our gear doesn’t want to have it for too long, so they’re looking to move it quick. That is the fastest place they could do the job.”
“What are they selling?”
“The stabilizers.”
“Naturally,” Olmed said. The one piece of equipment that was small and easily portable, not to mention easy to conceal. The only good thing about those was that they had a very distinct look.
“I’ll send you the specifics. Get a hold of a scanner, and you should be able to find them.”
