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. "Your people don't indulge in spaceflight, I take it."
Baejling glanced at the rows of empty plastic chairs, the nearly deserted hallways, the closed restaurants and shutdown vendors' stalls. The few people who were in the spaceport walked swiftly and kept their eyes on the ground, as if by refusing to acknowledge anyone else's presence they could successfully hide their own.
"Off-world travel's restricted, Excellency." Baejling spoke carefully, mindful of the man in the dark suit. "Our government believes that the people of Modena have no need to leave their home world."
"Isn't that marvelous," said Raoul, smack by the notion. "How very ... domestic."
Baejling's frown deepened. He cleared his throat, looked hopefully at the open door leading to the spaceplane.
"The other members of your party--" Dolf began.
"We're it," Raoul said cheerfully.
Baejling protested. "We were expecting a colleague of yours. A cyborg ..."
"I beg your pardon, Dolf?. You spoke so softly, I failed to catch most of what you said." Raoul leaned near. Gardenia fragrance rolled off him.
Baejling coughed. "A man named Xris."
"Ah!" Light dawned. "You are referring, no doubt, to Xris Cyborg. He was not able to come. He is otherwise engaged. He sent us instead." Raoul gave his diminutive friend a tap on the fedora. "We are sufficient for the task."
Dolf Baejling did not exude confidence at this statement
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