Trusting her instincts, Sam let her feet carry her away from the market's constant din. She needed to be somewhere calmer and quieter - somewhere she could spot an ambush coming, or hear the faint whine of a priming shear-gun. She walked until she found solitude, took stock of her surroundings, and zeroed in on a network maintenance terminal. With a couple of spliced conduits and a little software diplomacy, she'd have the station's security dispatch routing its records directly through her translator in realtime. If the local sec goons were planning to blindside her or Max, she'd know. That, and when Max inevitably did something to piss everyone off, she'd at least have enough forewarning to come up with a decent alibi before he got them both arrested. Again.
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