Orr stepped off the shuttle with his companion Benji. Valt Minor had that feel. The hiss of the aged Klingon cargo shuttle converted for transporting people from the orbital customs station to the surface brought him to the here and now; the scent of the impulse manifold in need of servicing mixed with the damp mix of fog and drizzle didn’t inspire him with a pleasant stay here. But here they were going to begin their search. Already the other two of their team had preceded them by almost a month. They were going to meet them at a nearby Klingon coffee shop called the ‘Rak’. Folding up the collar of their coats, Orr and Benji started along the tarmac and through the main building. All they had was carried with them. Out on the Main Street they hailed a cab and directed them to the shop.
“Nice place,” Benji commented.
Orr peered out into the fog. “Could be London.”
“The beer would be better.”
“But not the coffee.”
They made small talk until they reached their destination. Paying for it after adding a nondescript tip Orr felt that they would be forgotten before the fellow had turned the corner.
.. Orr & Co