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There could be no way of an ambush in this Freeport 9, unless you could plan it thoroughly beforehand with a professional force skillful enough to make the LSF envious. Though the Samarrans were somewhat crafty in their own way... really, who are we kidding?

There was no sign of Sheik'ul Thrax, however and there was nobody around fitting his description. He was a large one, with a full beard and a haughty attitude that would scream at you 'Look at me!', not to mention a dressing style which could be found quite unusual by the locals.

But someone else would take Bassam's attention. A young 'boy', who had recently started to grow a thin mustache. Frail, short, with the looks that was neither ugly, nor beautiful. He was waiting quite close to where Bassam landed his ship, and now had walked up to him.

"Sir! Are you Mr. Bassam Hussaini?" the boy asked. His eyes widened, he had completely black irises and he looked directly into Bassam's eyes. But otherwise, he was the opposite of threatening.

"Mr. Thrax wished me to accompany you to a private room close by. He told me that 'the package' is classified and too out of ordinary that he couldn't put it in a box, nor could he leave it alone."

The boy lead him to that indeed very suspicious looking door. Suspicious enough for you to think if it was yet another play of that bastard Thrax to put Bassam in an uneasy mood. The door was made up of a sturdy metal covered with white paint. Next to it was a thin slit, and over the slit was a plaque that read L-101.

The boy moved his small hand into one of his pockets, searched for something there with his expression getting slightly troubled, then moved on to the next pocket where he finally found it and let out a sigh of relief. He raised it up to Bassam, a thin keycard with the code L-101 written on it. "Here you go, sir," the boy told Bassam, quite happy to have done his duty properly.

But even after handing him over the keycard, the boy wouldn't scurry off and kept on looking expectantly at Bassam. He wore the quite plain uniform of the dock attendants, and seemed to belong to the station and was not an accomplice of Thrax. But who could know? He even had a nameplate on his chest, 'Steve Larson', but was it really his true name? Maybe he was waiting for a tip, but was everything really as they looked like? A paranoid man in a tight corridor about to pass through a suspicious looking door and into a possibly very dark room could never know for sure. What could be waiting behind the door, even if the room was not as dark behind the sturdy door as it felt like from the outside?

Indeed, the room was not as dark as one would think at first glance to the now disappearing door. But it wasn't lit in an efficient way, either. A blue lamp was on a circular table in the center of the room and was dim. Most of the colors were those of the surrounding green clouds and of the star of Omicron Theta, sneaking in through a cleverly shaded glass which covered the whole opposite side of the now wide open entrance. The glass dimmed what was too bright while preserving the beautiful shade of most colors and the humble eye-candy of the system.

Unless if you had superhuman senses, which you might have, there was no motion to suggest a living being might be there in the dimness at first glance. But after a brief pause, and when your eyes had gotten used to the light, a small shape had moved slightly on one of the many couches and sofas slapped against the sides of the somewhat modestly sized room.

It stood up on its two tiny legs, and a light brushed a side of its face. It was a tiny girl, looking up at the very large man compared to her. "Hello," she simply said with a tiny, cute voice. She had an innocent expression, but there was no doubt a tint of worry on her face as well. She stared at the guy with large, bright eyes.

She had a long, flowing white dress on her, though simple, it looked adorable. And funnily, a pink ribbon around her tiny waist, or was it just the way her belt looked like? It fit to her dress pretty well.

"Are you my daddy?"

The child was a brave one, as she didn't start to cry at first sight of this very mean and scary man. She didn't even take a step back, but maybe she was explicitly told to not do so. She had that innocent look at her face still, and though she was getting slightly more and more troubled, she used all her energy to scan this new person who seemed to have quite extreme responses to some situations. The reasons of which the child could not yet figure out.

Once she was asked a question, she was not taken unawares at all, and she blinked her large, blue eyes once. "Uncle Adrian said... my daddy would come to take me home."

But suddenly afterwards, her expression changed, and she became restless for a second, scanning around. "A-ah!" she raised her little index finger and looked up at Bassam once more, then rushed over to a side of the circular table. She got up on her tiptoes to reach for a device on top of the table, and since she was so small, she had to try really hard to get the device which was slightly towards the center of the table.

But she finally managed it, huffing and puffing, and she victoriously handed it to Bassam with her little hand. "Uncle Adrian said to give daddy this!" Though she was not smiling and was still carefully scanning this weird person as much as she could. She was not yet sure if she should be scared or not.

The device Bassam would hold looked like a tablet with a glowing and blinking button at the center of it. And once he had pressed it, he would get a transmission on his neural address, at the same time as it would start to stream a holographic, talking shape of Adrian Thrax.

And there Thrax was, rubbing it to Bassam. There was a big grin on his face. Through his speech, the images would shift shape, and take the appearance of a beautiful, though somewhat sad looking woman. A very short time lover of Bassam, a slave girl and mother of Sara.

"Um... What is e-effe-...minate, daddy?" the girl would ask.