Marta hurried through the growing darkness, cloak wrapped tightly around her against the chill and drizzle, hood up, glad for its heavy wool. And glad for the long wool divided skirt and high necked jacket of her blue uniform. It would be good to be inside a warm tavern.

Was it summer? Did this planet even have a summer? The red sun gave far less heat than most of the planet's she'd been on, and it rained three out of five days of the long four hundred thirty-two day year. Well, maybe that's an exaggeration. But surely not by much. I may never dry out. At its best summer was only a little less cool than the winter season. And a little less wet, which wasn't saying much.

The lamplighter hadn’t gotten to this part of the Prime yet. The narrow street she turned into was dark between the tall buildings and smelled. She walked faster, careful on the wet, slick stones, still mindful of the lighter gravity on Adalta. A prickle of warning sent her hand to the hilt of her sword. Quick footsteps sounded from behind her. She pushed the right side of her short cloak over her shoulder, flipped the hood back, and loosened the weapon in its scabbard. Whoever followed closed fast, too fast, and threatening intentions battered against her shields. The street was too dark and too empty to be careless. She turned.