Five days letter, Zeph stepped carefully down the steps from the ship’s hatch and onto the cracked and worn surface of Zinziea’s so-called “star port”. The low gravity—about one-third standard—required some acclimation, and Zeph wanted to make sure he didn’t pitch himself off the stairs by moving too fast. The air was thick and heavy, under almost two atmospheres of pressure despite the low gravity, and it was unpleasant to breathe. Before disembarking, Zeph and the others had been required to sit in the ship for almost a half hour while the air pressure slowly increased to match that outside.

The star port itself wasn’t much to look at—an expanse of ancient asphalt perhaps a half-square mile in extent, painted with faded lines to divide it into different landing areas. To the south, and thankfully close to the where the ship had landed, was a small cluster of single-story buildings, with a parking lot of sorts visible on the far side of them. And farther away, the “city” of Pratermere, capital of Zinziea, boasting a population of nearly 25,000 people.

What really caught Zeph’s eye, though, was the forest.

It surrounded the star port and the city, more than a kilometer away at its nearest, a dense wall of green and blue that stretched more than 500 meters into the air. It seemed to undulate, everywhere in motion, both from the plants’ languid reactions to various breezes, as well as from the countless variety of flying animals that lived in the upper regions of the forest.

“Wow,” was all Zeph could say. None of the others were any more expressive.

After a minute, the four of them closed up the ship and made their away across the tarmac to the cluster of buildings they’d seen. A sign above one door proclaimed “REGISTRATION: NEW ARRIVALS ENTER HERE”. They filed in, and were greeted by a bored-looking woman at a desk.

She was slender, and tall—obviously a native, someone who had grown up in lower gravity—but her demeanor was universal. She looked up from a tablet in her hands, an expression of annoyance on her face.

“Names?” She asked abruptly.

Victor, Kat, Coshell, and Zeph each gave their names in turn.

“Purpose?”

“We’re here on business,” said Victor. “There is a contact in town that we’re to meet this afternoon.”

“Where will you be staying?”

“We, uh, aren’t sure yet,” said Victor. “Is that a problem?”

“No problem,” the woman said tiredly. “Just return here once you’ve made arrangements and we’ll update your registration. How long will your stay be?”

“A few days,” Victor said, hesitantly. “No more than a week.”

The woman nodded and made some notes on her tablet. “If you decide to stay longer, just contact this office and let us know. Lastly, any weapons?”

“Weapons?” Asked Victor.

She looked up and raised an eyebrow at him. “Uh, yeah. Weapons. You know, shooty or stabby things, typically used for ending other sapients. Got any of them?”

He raised one edge of his jacket to reveal a holster. “Yeah. Is that a problem?”

“Could be,” said the woman, as disinterested as ever. “Concealed weapons are illegal on Zinziea. Overtly carried weapons are permitted, but must be licensed. The licensing office is next door, but I’ll warn you—for visitors, the license fee is steep.”

“How steep?” Asked Kat.

“Depends on the weapon, but for personal firearms it’ll run 20 to 30 credits per day, per weapon. Honestly, most folks prefer to deposit their weapons here, where we keep them in a safe for a much smaller fee.”

Coshell raised an eyebrow at her. “How small?”

That earned a chuckle from her. “A credit per day, per party, unless you have an exceptional number of weapons.”

The party all placed their various firearms on the counter, though Zeph strongly suspect Kat and Coshell held a few back. He tried not to look at them.

The woman, though, looked from the pile of weapons to the party, her eyes wide.

“Is that an exceptional number?” Asked Victor.

“No,” she said slowly, “but it is more than I expected. Still, one credit per day. Is that acceptable?”

“Yes,” said Victor.

She handed him a small ticket. “Just present this when you’re ready to claim them again. You’ll pay the balance at that time. Enjoy your stay on Zinziea.”

“Oh,” said Victor. “One more thing. Is there a way we can reach someone in town?”

“Do you know their number?”

“Uh, no.”

She reached under her desk and pulled out a thick book made of rough paper. “A full index of all citizens,” she explained, “with their contact numbers.”

“Thank you,” said Victor, and he began flipping through it.

“Seems kind of primitive,” said Kat quietly to Zeph.

“Well, consider that there are only forty thousand people on this entire world.”

“True.”

Victor stabbed a page with his finger. “There she is,” he said. “Urani.” He pulled out his pad and quickly noted the number.

Before he could ask, the woman pointed across the lobby at a small device mounted on the wall. “You can use the public phone there.”

“Thank you,” said Victor.

They huddled around Victor as he pulled the device from its cradle and hesitantly typed the number onto the device’s keypad. After a moment, a woman’s voice spoke from the device.

“This is Urani.”

“Hello, Urani,” said Victor. “My name is Victor, and I’m here with Coshell Kimbal and a few friends. We were told you would be expecting us?”

“Oh, yes! I’m glad you made it. You’re later than I expected.”

“Ah, you know, the vagaries of interstellar travel and all that.”

She laughed. “Of course. Where are you?”

“At the star port.”

“Good, that’s easy. I’ll pick you up there. See you in a few minutes.”

The call ended, and the group made their way outside. There were a few ancient benches, but no one felt any need to sit down. The light gravity was almost a delight, Zeph thought. If it wasn’t for the heavy, muggy air it would be quite a wonderful place to visit.

He was looking forward to seeing what Zinziea had to offer.