The dust kicked up by the people at the bazaar was
visible far outside the settlement. Neat rows of stalls were manned by vendors
in strange dress hawking unusual wares. Black-clad security force patrolled the
narrow lanes, shoving aside anyone too slow to give way. They inspected each
merchant’s offerings as they passed, looking for an excuse to turn their stall
over. Everyone sold contraband. And the shiny-armored patrols knew that, but
they still needed a reason to search. Things on the frontier weren’t like the
inner systems and people throwing too much weight around had been known to
disappear.
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