The Red Sun was a Human-operated nightclub, accessible by questionably-legal maintenance access off the lower rungs of Caledan Station's habitat-zone. The lights were low, pulsing with the thumping synth of the night. Figures in long coats and cloaks offered bliss in small baggies, or the kind of drugs that allowed the brute-forcing of Mem-net security protocols. Bodies pressed together in the central dance hall, and the smell of stale sweat filled the shared air. Laughter, fighting, and even the sounds of drug-induced pleasure-groans formed a baseline hum of noise that bled through even the softest of lulls in the harsh music.
Najira was out of his element.
He was smaller than his kin. Shorter than even some humans. The stamping of feet, the push of bodies, and the clumsy stagger of inebriated hotspurs forced him to remain at the rim of the Red Sun. Standing no more than five feet in height, Najira's golden eyes widened, as he pressed back against one of the closed booths. Canine ears perking at the sounds behind it, before pushing off, and scurrying further within. Weaving between legs, he was out of sight and mind to his far taller brethren. His dark fur, and darkly-dyed tunic and wraps blending him against the harsh shadows cast by neon lighting, did well to ensure he was concealed.
But it had the side-effect of being easy to step on.
Letting out a soft breath, Najira stumbled forward, towards the bar. The booths to his left were sealed: locked from within; Mem-net dens, places to connect to the neural network of Caledan Station. Of course, it wouldn't take long at all for him to have his foot squished by a passerby, making him flail, and stumble forward onto the sticky floor below.
