In the end, two guards showed up and had to tow Naomi away. Someone in one of the warehouses must have heard to shouting and called for them. The two of them had muscles as thick as a Mucarian-bull’s and probably brains that were just as small. The only real difference was their blue uniforms and shiny badges. They took the paperwork offered by her ex-dad, scanned it into their wrist-com and shot a stun-ray at Naomi who had thought it would be a good time to make herself scarce. But the ray had hit her and she tumbled onto the plasti-creat where the guards picked her up and dragged her away. Cursing both of the burly guards and their ancestors, she was dragged past her ex-guardians who had retreated back to the cabin of the pod. Naomi saw their faces through the window. Her ex-mum was still sobbing into a handkerchief. Betelgeuse! Wouldn’t the woman get over it already? I should be the one crying here! I’m the one being sold into slavery!
Kicking and screaming as best she could, Naomi tried to make for what she knew would be her last attempt for escape. Once she was sent up in The Gate, there would be no coming back without immigration papers, which she would never be able to get. But the guards seemed to sense this and gripped her shoulders tighter. Smartly, the pair had kept Naomi’s plasti-cuffs on so she couldn’t scratch snatch their wrist-cuffs off to call for help. The boss would have both of their badges if he knew they had let their newest crewmember escape. The guards had enough sense to stun Naomi again so she would stop struggling. She resisted the lower shock settings but after a few tries, she was out like the Brumble-bear during hibernation season.
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Naomi woke up for the second time that day to the most breathtaking view she had ever seen. All her life, she had dreaming of going up in The Gate Space Elevator but had never been able to fake valid-enough immigration papers. Some of her snottier classmates had bragged about the frequent trips they took with their fathers and how oh-so-fan-cosmically-amazing the whole ordeal had been. And for once, Naomi actually agreed with the idjits. The view was amazing.

Spread below her like a pilli-bug farm was the planet she had called home. In between the dunes, she could make out the settlements. There was the wind farm the Republic had built ontop of Old Willie’s ranch to combat the metalite demand. And a little farther to the left was Arcegus, the capital city, with the toughest bot-arena this side of the planet. Naomi scrunched up her nose, knowing full-well that she would never see her precious bots again. They would be sitting in her locker until some cocky juv from the orphanage raided it. All that work was gone…and she even thought this was the year that her team would have a shot at the championships. Spica would just have to go on without her. Maybe he could find a mechanic half as good as her, but it wasn’t likely. This was the end.

The elevator picked up speed as it finally broke through the planet’s gravitational pull. Naomi had one last look at the golden sands, sparkling under the two suns, before her vision was obscured by the clouds. “Goodbye,” she whispered, not allowing herself to cry. Only marmot-faced grumplets cry, not her. She was on her way now to the stars, lifted up by its lo-gravity. And she wasn’t coming back down until she was at least a light-year away from here. Those dunes held nothing but bones and Naomi needed to get out. She would slip her employer the moment his ship landed in the next port, start a new life there. It wouldn’t be such a backwater kipslip that it didn’t even have a decent bot-arena, would it? Eyes and ears up, Naomi turned from the window, searching for the next best move.

The two guards were still there, watching her. Thankfully, they had released Naomi’s biceps but kept her in-range of their stun-rays. One of the guards, the light-haired one, had his weapon trained on her, concealed under the cap which rested on his knees. The other guard was holding a newsfeed card, pretending to scan the headlines while keeping the other eye on her. Naomi shivered, but was grateful that the presence of the other passengers kept the guards from keeping her stunned for the entire trip. She could see some curious faces peer up at her from wrist-coms long enough to register that she was wearing plasti-cuffs and for good reason. They didn’t want to get involved with a dangerous war-crimnal. No, no. Just let the Republic do its job and let me do mine. And so the inquisitive faces looked down again at their screens, tapping away at the latest feeds and vids, snuggling down in their seats, holding their children closer, and not once speaking aloud.

So much for any help, Naomi thought, but she didn’t need them anymore. Any outburst from me and I’ll die in a Republic lock-up before I get anywhere near a courtroom. No, better to pretend to comply for now.

Naomi took a last glance out the window and sat in one of the red plush seats. They had been specially designed to reduce the impact of the journey on the human skeletal system after some blither-wad’s bones all cracked when he had been riding on The Gate. Since then, it had been safety-reg to sit in those chairs and Naomi could see why the Republic actually passed this regulation. These seats were bliss-tastic!

Naomi stretched out her arms. They still ached from where those goons had grabbed her. She looked over at them and met their eyes which were staring intensely at her as if they were x-raying her body. Doofus One and Doofus Two, she decided to call them, chuckling at the thought that if those were their actual names. Doofus Two’s finger seemed awfully twitchy, as if daring her to act up. She knew he wouldn’t think twice about it: much easier to carry a limp prisoner than one that would kick you in the shins at the first opportunity. Cautiously, Naomi flexed her ankle, as if winding up for that kick. Doofus Two’s eyes narrowed in on the movement and he shifted slightly for a better shot. But Doofus One must not be as ill-brained as his name implied. He shot a 400 volt glance at his partner which said: What are you doing, stupid? Do you want to send the elevator back down? Now, behave!

Naomi knew these guards didn’t have any real authority to shoot her. They were Gate guards for crying to Rathenia! They were in charge of making sure every crate and barrel made it to the correct address, not the passengers themselves! But any shots fired, regardless of the legality of the shooter, could make the mag-lifters malfunction and sent the elevator back down. It didn’t take someone of Naomi’s tech-knowledge to figure that one out.

The mag-lifters had stopped and it took a while for Naomi to realize the silence. Stewardesses had appeared from the automatic doors and were addressing the passengers of the terminals for the major starship companies. The people stretched out their bones, none of which had snapped, as the elevator had its artificial gravity set to just a little bit weak than that on the planet’s surface. They took their small children and pets and hurried out, probably rushing off to seize the best seats on their next flight. Soon, Naomi was alone with the Doofuses.

“Well, come on then,” said Doofus One, folding the newsfeed card back into his pocket.

Doofus Two shoved his cap back on his head and underlined Doofus One’s request with a jerk of his stun-ray.

Naomi had no choice but to exit the space elevator and entered into the spaceport beyond. To say it was a lively place would be quite the understatement. Everywhere she looked, Naomi could see people. People loading cargo. People running with luggage. People waiting in line for caffeine tablets. People selling “One-way Tickets to Paradise, Only Fifty-Ten Roundels!”. People boarding ships. People going this way and that like a spilt can of lima-beans.

But the Doofuses pressed her on, past the pleasure ships to the Costello Cluster and the shuttles to New Radice. There must have been thirty ship bays, all around the outer ring of the port, but Doofus One did not stop infront of any of them.
“White ship, solar ship, sailing through the sky. Happy ship, happy ship, fly, fly, fly,” Naomi hummed a few bars of the nursery rhyme, but not loud enough to give Doofus Two an excuse to stab her in the back with his stun-ray.
Finally Doofus One came to a halt in front of the grandest ship in the port. Gleaming white, it was almost too bright to look at. Naomi gave it a quick run-down. It looked larger enough to hold maybe two hundred crew members. It had six Maxillion thrusters and a solar sail folded up safely on either side. Dual-capacitors and a wide-angle bridge.
Whoever had hired her was clearly loaded. Maybe this wasn’t going to be the worst facupting day in the history of man.

A figure walked down the gangway, his polished boots squealing on the rubber tiles. He was old, but not Old Willie old. He had a great white moustache that curled over his mouth like albino snake. The man’s chest was puffed out over his britches and had scarlet stripes down the arm of his coat black coat. He stopped at the end of the gangway, and the Doofuses responded with a snappy salute. Doofus Two fumbled as he tried to stuff the stun-ray back in its holster and keep a hold on Naomi while saluting at the same time. The man smiled. But to Naomi, it looked more like a frown.
“Naomi R. Jenkins, how do you do?” the man’s voice was full of authority, more suited to commands than pleasantries. “I am Ladon Wright, captain of the RSS Seren. It’s a pleasure to have you on board."