Free StarCraft II: Devils' Due by Christie Golden

C. As
    Raynor maneuvered the smal vessel, doing his
    utmost to fly casual y, he could see that al kinds of
    ships were docked there in ports of varying sizes,
    from smal one-person ships to several extremely
    large ones. Most of them looked as if they’d seen
    better days.
    The second level, B, the one to which he and
    Tychus had been directed, seemed to have more
    workmanlike vessels. This layer was designated
    “Station/Governmental Vessels.” A, the top layer, had
    fewer docking bays, and they were much larger. This
    level obviously catered to VIPs, either actual ones or
    those who had enough money to be regarded as very
    important personages.
    “Our freighter’s going to be on C,” Raynor said to
    Tychus. “Looks like there are about two dozen landing
    areas large enough to accommodate it.” He touched
    the screen and found the stairs. “Man, this is gonna
    be cake.”
    “Providing we can actual y land these babies,”
    Tychus said.
    “Yeah, it would kind of blow our cover to crash as
    we dock,” Jim said.
    “Then straighten up and fly right.”
    The Horley Barton Space Station, as befitted
    such an out-of-the-way place, was more than a little
    run-down, outdated, and lax in security. After Raynor
    had landed and figured out which door opened the
    hatch of the smal vessel, he was greeted by a bored
    worker with a data log—a device that enabled him to
    read data chips and most likely gave him access to
    information about al the ships on the station. The
    worker was clad in dark-blue overal s with a patch that
    proclaimed his name as Crawford. He had at least a
    day’s growth of stubble and vacant eyes, and was
    chewing something with more enthusiasm than he
    had displayed while checking out Raynor’s falsified
    credentials.
    “Yep, Officer Tanner, you’ve got the run of the
    station,” Crawford said, turning his head to spit with a
    pinging sound into a metal urn of some sort. He took
    a square piece of plastic, stuck it into the slot of a
    machine on the side of the wal , and sat back for a
    moment while it hummed and clicked, then spat out
    the plastic square.
    “My partner, Officer Whitley, and I need to
    investigate this freighter,” Jim said, handing Crawford
    a data chip with the ID of the desired vessel on it.
    “And we’l need the area cleared out. We think it might
    be stolen.”
    Vague interest flickered in the man’s hazel eyes
    before subsiding. “Stolen, huh? Let me see that.”
    Crawford read the information and tapped in a
    number on his data log.
    “Okay … that baby’s gonna be in docking bay 22,
    port C. Let me notify security and send you in with
    some backup.” He turned to do so.
    Jim lifted a hand, projecting calm certainty. “No,
    thank you, that won’t be necessary. The quieter this
    job is, the better. No need to start a panic. Officer
    Whitley and I simply need the area unobtrusively
    cleared out.”
    Crawford eyed him. “You sure?”
    “Absolutely. The Red Mesa County Municipal
    Enforcement Department wil offer a sizable reward to
    station staff members who cooperate and who are
    directly responsible for the apprehension of the
    criminals.” Which was sort of true. Of course, Jim was
    talking about the reward that applied to him and
    Tychus, who were about to be the thieves he was
    claiming to chase.
    That got Crawford’s attention. “Real y?”
    Jim smiled and fished in his pocket, counting out a
    not-inconsiderable number of credits. “In fact,” he
    said, “I’ve been authorized to pay particularly helpful
    individuals in advance. There should be more upon
    completion of the operation,” he added, handing them
    over to Crawford.
    “I see,” Crawford said, pocketing the credits after
    counting them quickly. “Jax Crawford at your service,
    Officer. I’ve given orders to security to clear out the
    area around docking bay 22, port C, and to leave you
    and Officer Whitley to do your thing.”
    He smiled a little, and Raynor realized that Jax
    Crawford