It wasn't much that Lexa was able to tell him – in fact, the hints she gave him were awfully thin. But it was better that way than having to persecute her for breaking her oath to... well, whoever she had sworn it to. Even if she was out of her bloody mind, protecting violent criminals like that.

Quinn got to do his own research, based on the few breadcrumbs Lexa offered him, and succeeded. It took him a few calls to his home planet, contacting some local sources, calling in a favour or two... but finally he arrived, after crossing some more shrieking catwalks to get to the other part of this huge ship city. It was a long way from the ship where he had met Lexa – that part was the Brewery ship which was mostly inhabited by Metalians. It was only logical that outlawed Metalians would hide as far away from law abiding Metalians as possible.

That part of the city Quinn had arrived in was seedy at best. Most ships had paid their toll to the constant abuse by the salty sea water, but this ship at the edge of the flotilla was barely floating anymore. Most of the doors on the outside were rusted shut, but there were enough holes in the walls to make them practically redundant. Even in the now setting afternoon sun which still sent golden rays of light on the decks this ship looked dark. Apart from the few portholes and real holes in the walls at the front where artificial light shone through. Every second step Quinn took lead him over piles of garbage that had not yet been washed away by the tides. The smell was revolting.

As he approached the light source he also heard voices and faint music. It was like his contacts had described him, so he found the entrance and used it. Two very firm steps later he was standing in the middle of a rundown bar – and all the sounds in this room died out.

It took him only one quick look around to find what he was looking for. Although the men gave their best to raise no suspicion, the muscular, black-clothed Metalians stood out like searchlights among the cowering local low-lifes who frequented this bar. While the locals lowered their heads so tight that it looked like they were born without a neck, the open hostility of the Metalians in this room was almost tangible. Half of them, spreaded all over the room, had their hands on swords and laser weapons, ready to draw them at a moment's notice. After two seconds of Quinn assessing the room he noticed himself that his hand rested firmly on the grip of his laser pistol in his belt.

It was no use pretending to be a harmless tourist in here. They knew who he was and why he had come.

Nobody said a word. No one even made a sound for almost a full minute. All that was spoken was in body language. Quinn was on his guard, his muscles tightened, surveying everything and everyone in this room. Whenever somebody so much as moved a finger, Quinn's muscles flexed just a tiny bit, but the message was clear: Another one of those, and things turn nasty! The Metalians understood this. Everybody else just felt the tension in this room – and peeked for a possible exit.

But Quinn remembered the promise he gave Lexa. Slowly, carefully he removed his hand from his weapon and raised it in a manner that was meant to calm everybody down. In the corner of his eye he saw one Metalian twitch, seeing an opportunity, but he forced himself with all might not to act on his instincts and pull his weapon. Instead he kept standing there, calmly, one hand raised to pacify, the other one keeping an inch away from his black coat and remaining passive. The moment passed, the Metalian kept himself under control.

Finally Quinn ended the tense silence: "I am not here to fight."

The Metalian right in front of him let out a contemptuous laughter out of disbelief. Quinn couldn't blame him – had he been in his shoes, he wouldn't have believed it either. He riveted on the man, made sure he had his full attention, then he touched his gun even more careful than before, only using thumb and finger. He managed to slowly pull it out without raising any alarms and put it softly on the table next to him. A gentle push let the weapon slide over the table and stop on the other side, out of Quinn's reach.

Of course, that wasn't enough. The Metalian facing him got the message, all right. But he pointed to the other side of Quinn's belt. "Your sword, honour hunter!" he belched. Seemed to be a member of the Black Metalian clans, Quinn thought. He tried to look inconspicuous, but since the tip of his blade was showing under his long black coat, there was no point in denial. So he chose another approach:

"You wouldn't want to relieve a Metalian of his personal blade, would you?"

It didn't impress his opponent. "Yes, I would."

Quinn took another look around, and it seemed that all the other Metalians weren't impressed either. Again, he couldn't blame them. Although there were always exceptions, most honour hunters were chosen for their skills as swordsmen. He himself had won several tournaments on New Wacken and other planets, prior even to his service in the Imperial Guard. For that reason, among others, a good Metalian would hardly give up his personal sword, especially in the face of imminent danger.

On the other hand, if it helped convince them of his good intentions... "As you wish", Quinn proclaimed with a deep sigh before he slowly pulled out his longsword to put it on the table next to his gun.

Judging by the surprised face the Metalian in front of him showed, he had not expected Quinn to give in to his demand. But he quickly got a grip of himself. "Now leave! And don't come back!"

Quinn felt the hostility in the room getting stronger. The first local plucked up enough courage to stand up from his chair and hastily leave the bar. The other locals watched him with terrified looks, but as soon as they noticed that the Metalians didn't care about that, they followed his example. A few seconds later the only people remaining in the bar were Metalians.

Quinn braced himself. "I cannot do that", he answered with all sincerity in his voice. "I came here for..."

"We know what you came here for, honour hunter", the Metalian interrupted. "We won't let you take her."

They hadn't killed him yet. So far, so good... "Like you took her, you mean?" He raised his voice to make sure that everyone in here understood him. Another quick glance around, and Quinn saw how some of the men blushed slightly in embarrassment and shame. Not exactly what he had expected, but enough reason to keep pressing on. "Ambushing an innocent woman? Abducting her? Is this what the code is to you?"

He counted on them to burst out in anger, or at least in protest. But nothing happened. The Metalians stood in silence, some of them were looking at their feet to avoid his glance. Even the man facing him, probably the leader of the bunch, looked like he was searching for the right answer. He opened his mouth to say something – and closed it again. Only his eyes stared at Quinn, showing remorse... and fear.

Suddenly Quinn realized: There was something fishy going on here. It was the same look Lexa gave him when she refused to tell him the truth. The look that this secret was bound by the word of a Metalian, and he couldn't break it. But since he was already an outcast, what difference would it make to him?

"What is going on?" Quinn finally asked the question hanging in the air. "Where is Kira Des Mornas?"

Before the other could answer a door was opened in the back of the bar. The person stepping through... Quinn had not seen it coming, he gasped in surprise. He had memorized pictures and video recordings of the woman he was sent after, had memorized her to the littlest detail – and there she was! It couldn't be a trick or some sort of doppelganger forgery. The woman he came to rescue from her captors was now standing right in front of him, unharmed.

"Mr. Connors!" she greeted him without further ado. "We need to talk."