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As they walked through the ramshackle station, Sarita turned her head ever so slightly to the left, not really looking back at Cobra, more politely acknowledging that it might be difficult for him to hear her while she was in front given the noise of the hangar bays and loading docks. “Kepler and Colorado wasn't such a long run, but I suppose the patrols of other groups might make it meaningfully more difficult for you. Of course, now with the dark matter storm...” She realized a moment too late that perhaps she hadn't been the most tactful just now, but it was already done with, and they were already at the airlock that would lead them to the inside of the Especulador.
“The air inside the ship is hospitable enough to me. I doubt it would pose a risk to you, but as you're a cardamine non-user—I believe—I'd offer you the courtesy of a filtration mask if you deem it necessary.” The slightest hint of amusement came through in her voice; given the nature of their business relationship, it was an ironic proposition, but she had no interest in antagonizing the terrorist. After all, he and his men had been good business thus far. While waiting for his reply, she pulled the lever which opened the first airlock gate, revealing the loose metal tunnel connecting the loading deck to the cargo hold of the transport. Only two-point-five inches of steel between the both of them and hard vacuum, and a good six feet to the second airlock door.
