They started out towards the colony entrance. Corwin found himself casting glances at the other ship as they passed. It was smaller than his freighter, which he’d renamed the Wallowing Wail after wallowing in self pity for a few weeks after he started realizing what his life had turned into. It was his reminder to himself that it’d been his choice, even if it’d been forced on him.
The smaller craft wasn’t any fighter design he’d ever seen, and wasn’t any sort of freighter either. “What do you make of it, Aru? A shuttle or small transit ship?”
He slowed to check Aru’s display. “It appears to be a customized shuttle craft of a type not in my database.”
The Wail wasn’t quite big enough to take the whole shuttle into its cargo bay, but it was close. He estimated it would probably serve four people comfortably, or six uncomfortably. If they’re unfriendly, I hope they like traveling comfortably, he thought. He found himself adjusting the weight of the guns at his hips and tried not to think about facing six unfriendlies.
They passed the shuttle without incident; either nobody was home, or they weren’t concerned by the new arrivals. It was difficult to tell how long ago the shuttle’s owners had passed this way. Without an atmosphere to speak of, there was no dust to speak of to mark a trail, and no other sign Aru’s sensors could detect. It did indicate they’d passed long enough ago to have allowed the conducted heat of their boots to have dissipated, but Aru assured him that only meant they had been gone more than roughly fifteen minutes.