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Tradeport <Comorro Station>
Built within one of the larger fissures of her digestive system, this common tradeport has rib-like structures with gray-green webs of matter stretched between them to protect Comorro's winding intestinal conduits from damage. Luminescent symbiotes, floating orbs of green and yellow, provide illumination for the cartilagenous nodes that serve as shops and merchant stalls.
The docking hub can be found at the starboard end of the bazaar, while a levimodule at the port end carries visitors to other levels of the Yaralu vessel.
Ken Pennebaker sits on a box near one of the merchant stalls, staring blankly at the glowing display of his PDA.
"Yeah, an' keep yer mitts offa me sandwich or I'll break ya in half!" James Sterling shouts over his shoulder as he comes out of the REM offices. "Bloody yobbos," he mutters, digging in his jacket pocket for a packet of cigarettes. "Hey, er, Ken," he calls, seeing Pennebaker a bit down the tradeport and still not confident enough on his proper surname, "how long y'reckon 'til we hit Aukam?" He starts walking toward the holodocumentarian.
Ken Pennebaker looks up from his PDA, fixing a glum stare on the approaching man. "Sterling," he says with a curt nod. He gets to his feet and says, "We're not going." He looks up. "Comorro, I have to get back to Earth."
The cigarette in Sterling's hand stops halfway to his lips. "We're not?" He frowns at Pennebaker. "Well, why t'hell not? I was lookin' forward t'crunchin' some Aukami -- I mean, er, seein' a new planet an' doin' that whole security thing for ya." He sticks the cigarette in his mouth, if only so it gives him an excuse to remain silent for a moment while he lights it.
Ken Pennebaker hefts the PDA. "My kid's sick. Really sick." He shakes his head. "I can't keep running from my responsibilities. Jeremy needs me."
"Shit, I'm sorry," Sterling says. "Didn't know y'had a sick kid." He puffs at the cigarette for a moment, then reaches into his jacket for the pack. "Hey, er, y'want one? I even got a couple o' the really nice ones Joca smokes. They're real relaxin'."
"Thank you, but no," the documentarian replies. "Never smoked."
The voice of Comorro speaks from overhead: "Pennebaker, I discontinued the trans-universal shuttle service. It will take time to return to the position near the rift and re-establish the service. However, it should only take a few hours. I can arrange a rendezvous."
Pennebaker nods. "All right. Let's do that."
"So yer goin' back t'Earth?" Sterling asks. "I been meanin' t'visit, 'cos it is my home an' all, even if it's 500 years in the future and whatnot. T'be honest I get tired of all these aliens sometimes. They're okay an' all, but all the fur and the scales and stuff ... be nice t'go back to a place where I feel like I belong." He takes a drag on his cigarette, then adds, "Hope things go okay with yer kid."
Ken Pennebaker offers Sterling a faint smile. "I'll show you around after I make bail." He waves, then says, "I need to go get some affairs in order. Tell your boss I'm sorry. We'll try it again sometime."
Sterling tilts his head, mouthing, "make bail?" before remembering a recent news article about some legal business Pennebaker was involved in. "Orright," he drawls. "I'll pass th'word on t'Joca. Let us know when y'wanna have another go."
Ken Pennebaker nods, then heads for the levimodule.