Tide-Return Passage, Harbor-Call

Job: fly one passenger home to Harbor-Call — three hops past Zatheeri Reach, out to a wet-hab berth hanging over a desert world the charts don't bother to romanticize. Tovan Run-Tide is berth-born Zatheeri, six years on Khesret station decks, and his tide-cousin Sira Moor-Call prepaid the whole run so he wouldn't arrive owing even the fare. Comfort handling, clean manifest, one polite cousin's duffel and a man who talks about kelp broth like he missed it. Good pay for a crew that remembers you're carrying a person, not a crate.

Briefing: Sira's factor books you off a Zatheeri tide-passage desk on Khesret. The passenger's paid up, papers stamped, and he will ask after scoop tenders and council gallery seating like a man going home on purpose. Ride him through Thul'vaneh and Zatheeri Reach to Harbor-Call's wet-hab, set down at the quota hall, hand him to Sira at the tide-council gallery, and you've closed a contract and seen water-people keeping the current alive over a rock that won't give them a cup. Feed him, don't lose him, mind your tide-courtesy — a color-flash you read as insult is probably gratitude.

Clock: soft — the council holds a reconciliation window open a few days and Sira would like him there standing straight. Terms: ₡13,000 gross, 10% desk fee, Rank 1. Honest money, Deck-Slow manners, and a corner of Zatheeri space where honor weighs more than guns.