Chapter Text
System Alert: Malfunction detected in the lower engine.
Emergency landing required.
Nearest available planet for landing: Sigonia.
Landing coordinates: 37.649925, 33.445273.
Outside, an endless ocean stretched into an infinite desert, while the monitor data indicated an extremely high temperature—over 40 degrees Celsius. The gusty wind howled threateningly outside, whipping up sandstorms. This was not how Ratio had imagined the start of his day.
He had to make the emergency landing far from the city; Ratio didn’t want to attract unnecessary attention—neither to himself nor to his sizable ship. The nearest city was about ten kilometers away, but he had no choice. Digging through the depths of his closet filled with long-forgotten belongings, he was fortunate to find an old scarf perfect for fashioning into a makeshift keffiyeh. All that remained was to gather a few bottles of water, some rations for the journey, money, and other essential items.
Ratio didn’t know much about Sigonia, although its notorious reputation had long rippled across the universe. Primarily, it was a rather underdeveloped planet despite its extensive mineral deposits. The population was mostly small to medium-sized nomadic tribes and inhabitants of small towns, which were built more for trade than comfortable living. Beyond the general poverty, armed clashes between various groups were common, often resulting in total annihilation of some factions. Factors like these had always turned travelers like Doctor Ratio away.
The air burned his cheeks, and his head felt noticeably heated under the relentless sun, yet even the carefully tied keffiyeh couldn’t withstand the relentless wind: sand still stung his eyes, sweat poured uncomfortably down his body, and there wasn’t even a hint of a tree or rock nearby to rest. After an hour—which felt more like half a day to Ratio—city walls appeared in the distance. This sight lifted his spirits, renewing his energy as he pressed on.
Approaching the city walls, he began to calculate how many credits it might take to bribe the guards, but things turned out much simpler: what he had assumed to be checkpoints were actually wide-open gates. Though calling them gates was generous—the old bricks were crumbling away in pieces, cracks covered the wall, and here and there holes appeared, as if a slight push would cause it all to collapse. Inside, the scene was no better: sagging, barely standing old houses, torn clothes hanging from balconies, and trash scattered along the streets. Ratio had traveled to many places, but this one could be called nothing other than slums.
The engine part he had come to the city to find wasn’t rare or expensive, but looking at the surroundings, his chances of locating it were rapidly diminishing.
There weren’t many people around, but Ratio clearly felt eyes fixed on him. Apparently, visitors from other planets weren’t frequent here. The tense gazes from windows and rare passersby unnerved him; it wasn’t mere curiosity or fear—they studied him like prey. Trying to avoid their attention, he turned into a narrow alley and glanced back to see if he was followed. Just as he exhaled and caught his breath, a man seemingly appeared from nowhere before him.
His clothing sharply contrasted with the grim surroundings: a light emerald blouse with an extremely daring neckline and wide, flared sleeves that resembled blooming petals; black tight trousers flared from the knee, held with a wide corset-like belt; and, like a wild cherry on top, a colorful red scarf with golden fringe tied around his hips. Numerous adornments of various qualities caught the eye, from what seemed like gold bracelets to a necklace of red beads made of an unknown material to Ratio. His entire appearance resembled a peacock's tail rather than ordinary attire.
After studying this garish outfit, Ratio looked up at the man’s face and couldn’t help but notice the most striking feature: his eyes. Such eyes he had never seen before—a split iris glowing with a mix of violet and blue, reminiscent of the northern lights Ratio had once glimpsed. To see such a thing not in the night sky but in a human eye seemed almost impossible.
The stranger was also studying him, almost appraising him. Within seconds, the man approached closer and said sweetly:
“I haven’t seen travelers from other planets around here in a long time.”
Ratio chose not to respond and tried to pass by, but the man spoke again:
“Don’t walk by—let me tell your fortune. I’ll reveal your whole fate, nothing hidden. I see all, I know all...” He gently took Ratio’s hand, tracing the palm’s inside with a finger. “I see much—places you’ve been, and not just visiting, but on a mission. I see many books you’ve read in your life. I see... you will soon meet your true love.”
Saying this, the stranger locked his captivating gaze onto Ratio’s, as if drawing him in, offering no chance of escape.
Just as Ratio was about to pull back his hand, the stranger released it on his own and stepped back, saying:
“From such a handsome man, I don’t even want to charge money. Farewell, traveler!”
His light hair caught the sunlight for a brief moment, then the man vanished into the streets.
Suddenly, Ratio felt a strange lightness in his hand—the watch he had been wearing was brazenly stolen. Veritas wanted to chase after the man, but the thief had already disappeared deep into the alleys.
The acquaintance with this city clearly did not go well for Veritas.
Evening fell quickly, and the streets filled with people. Now less conspicuous, Ratio moved with greater confidence through the sidewalks. Moreover, this district appeared more civilized and less repulsive than the earlier parts. Numerous merchants shouted promotions about their goods, drawing in passersby; somewhere nearby, the sounds of intense bargaining could be heard.
But Ratio’s goal was clear: he wanted to leave this forsaken corner of the universe as soon as possible. First, though, he needed to get his ship repaired.
As he walked along the boulevard, examining the many market stalls, music suddenly reached his ears: the tune was simple, playful, perfectly complementing the lively atmosphere. Curious, Ratio scanned the street for the source and soon discovered a small group of people dressed just like the man who had robbed him. They sat a bit apart from the merchants on a large dusty rug, playing unfamiliar instruments that were new to Veritas.
The scene intrigued him: these musicians were so absorbed they seemed oblivious to their surroundings. Their eyes half-closed, fully lost in the music, some swayed slightly to the rhythm, nodding. A graceful girl spun in the center, her hips moving steadily, each motion accompanied by the soft clinking of metal coins hanging from her belt.
As he observed them, Ratio’s gaze caught a familiar light tuft of hair—it was the very thief who had shamelessly stolen his watch in broad daylight! And there he stood, openly mimicking the musicians' rhythmic movements, grinning slyly as if nothing had happened just a few hours ago.
This brazenness, unseen by Ratio before, unsettled him, and, surprising even himself, he shouted fiercely across the street:
“You!”
Heads turned toward the shout, and the music stopped. The man to whom the yell was addressed looked up, immediately recognizing his new “friend,” and took off running, a smile still playing on his face.
But this time, despite his exhaustion, Ratio refused to give up so easily. He dashed after the man, pushing through the crowd. Physically, Ratio was stronger, but the thief moved with a skill that made it seem as if no one else was around. The fugitive quickly put distance between them, and Ratio began to lose him from sight. Suddenly, the young man slipped into a narrow alley, which Ratio saw as a perfect opportunity—he thought he could corner him face-to-face.
They zigzagged through narrow streets, moving further from the main boulevard. Just as Ratio felt he was about to catch him, the thief leaped, grabbing beams jutting from walls, and climbed swiftly onto the roof of a small building. From above, looking down at his pursuer, he smiled playfully, waved goodbye, and disappeared deeper into the rooftops, leaving Ratio empty-handed.
Catching his breath, Veritas looked around. The street was completely unfamiliar, unsurprisingly, and even more dilapidated than those seen earlier. Not a soul was in sight, and the sun was already dipping below the horizon, deepening the oppressive atmosphere.
Staying put made no sense. Ratio decided to try retracing his way back to the boulevard from memory. But caught up in the chase, he hadn’t paid much attention to landmarks or turns, promising a long walk ahead.
As he wandered through the nearly night-time city, he suddenly realized how quiet it was. For this hour, that was expected, but in this quarter, all life seemed to vanish at night. No quiet conversations drifted from homes, no drunken ruckus echoed. Yet the silence was anything but peaceful; it seemed to carry a kind of horror that sent shivers through his entire body.
Suddenly, footsteps sounded behind him—before he could react, he was pressed face-first against the nearest wall, a dagger pressed to his neck.
There were two attackers. His position prevented him from seeing their faces, but their voices and the hands rummaging through his pockets and bag were clear.
“Don’t struggle, and you can go on your way,” said the voice holding the knife to his throat. “Well, almost.”
Though Ratio was in good shape, he didn’t know how to fight. He could hold his own in a fair one-on-one fight but was unprepared for a sneak attack from behind. It seemed the day couldn’t get any worse.
Resigned to his fate, Ratio waited silently as the men finished patting him down, expecting them to flee quickly, perhaps leaving some bruises. But then a third voice interrupted.
“Having fun, boys?”
That voice he recognized instantly. Not from long acquaintance, but its unmistakable tone was unique. Yes, that was the thief responsible for his troubles.
“Go on your way, kid,” said the man rummaging in his pockets. “Unless you want trouble yourself.”
No reply came—only a dull thud and a yelp from the man holding the knife. The dull sound was a rock hitting the back of his head, perfectly aimed. The man instantly became enraged and lunged at the assailant.
With his main threat momentarily neutralized, Ratio seized the chance and struck the assailant sharply with his elbow to the temple. Realizing he was outmatched, the man quickly retreated, leaving his comrade to deal with their former victim.
Ratio carefully watched the two men struggle; “struggle” was generous—the thief moved with the grace of a dancer, effortlessly dodging every attack. Even an outsider could tell he was in control despite being unarmed.
The red scarf at his hips twisted in rhythm with his movements, drawing all of the attacker’s attention. Like a matador controlling a bull, he anticipated the right moment for the finishing move. Finally, it came. He slipped behind the man almost weightlessly and drew a slender knife from his folds. Ratio caught a brief gleam of metal before it was pressed against the man’s throat—a rather ironic reversal of roles.
All three froze. The once-bold attacker stood rooted, unwilling to move a finger. Ratio watched intently, not daring to interfere, but it seemed the blond didn’t need help.
Several agonizing seconds stretched endlessly until the thief finally released his “bull,” inflicting only a minor scratch along his neck as a reminder. Slowly sheathing the knife, he whispered parting words and nudged the man forward. Without looking back, he fled.
Turning toward Ratio, the blond wore a mischievous smile. The earlier events had clearly made an impression on Veritas, yet after realizing that this man was no heroic rescuer but basically the cause of his plight, he offered in his usual slightly sarcastic tone:
“Don’t even think about thanking me for the rescue.”
“Oh? So you admit it was a rescue after all, don’t you?” the man teased.
“Maybe. But if it weren’t for your kleptomania, I probably wouldn’t be here,” Veritas replied, not missing the chance to remind him of his misdeed.
The blond hummed softly, smirked, stepped back, and said farewell:
“Consider this paying you back for that… slip-up, or whatever you want to call it. And a word of advice: stay away from the city outskirts if you don’t want to get robbed bare or stabbed in some alley. Good luck.” With that, he smoothly walked away, leaving Veritas alone.
Ratio pondered: such situations were clearly common here, and next time, this suddenly appearing “acquaintance” might not save him. More likely, as the man said, he’d get robbed or stabbed in some backstreet. And he still had to spend several days in this godforsaken town, awaiting the parts he needed.
After weighing the factors, he reached a simple, logical conclusion: he needed a guide. And the only available option was just about to disappear from sight.
“Wait!” he called out, hurrying to catch up. “I have… a business proposal.”
The blond turned slowly, eyeing him with curiosity.
“Interesting. Does such an upstanding doctor really need something from a petty thief like me?” the man replied, continuing his performance.
“I want to offer you a good deal. As you’ve guessed, I’m not local and don’t know my way around. I need your help as a city navigator. In return, I can offer fair payment.”
Though he made the decision quickly, asking a stranger for help was difficult for Ratio—he was long unused to company, especially unfamiliar people.
“Hmm…” the man said thoughtfully, hands on hips, nose raised as if solving a tough math problem. After a moment, his face lit up with a sly grin, and he extended his hand:
“Deal!”