Weapons were banned on the station save for trained security personnel. You wanted to bring your weapon? Fine, it was either locked in a specially sealed display box, or left in security until YOU left the station. Sadly, WAY too many knomiras scream, when they find out . "I have right to be armed!" -- Anon Guest
[AN: The right to bear arms should always come with the responsibility to handle and use them as safely as possible.]
There were up sides and down sides to working the customs and decontamination gates at the Deregger Welcoming ports. Inspector Lein always got a little joy from the expatriots boggling at how much freedom they had under the Alliance systems.
On the other hand, they also had to deal with the self-important, self-centred tourists. They all seemed to think that, because they had paid for the transit ticket, they now owned everything they traveled through and to.
"How dare you suggest I'm dirty! I don't need this alleged decontamination procedure, you're going to put tracker chips on my skin and take perverted pictures of my parts! Keep your filthy hands out of my property! I know my rights! I have the right to keep this ready to use at all times! I demand to speak to your supervisor! Do you know who I am?"
Frankly, Lein didn't really care who he was or who he allegedly knew. They briefly pondered reading the identity tags on his paperwork, starting with the name Regulus Martinee, but that would only result in more screaming. "You are well within your rights to remain outside of decontamination," Lein intoned. "Just as you are within your rights to retain your weaponry or keep your property from inspection."
The knomira tourist briefly preened.
"Just we are well within our rights to keep you on this side of the embarkation zone," said Lein.
"You can't imprison me like this! I have rights!" The tourist, still bellowing, made a bolt for the Expedited Egress door. Which would not open without the correct passcode and key fob.
While Regulus was hammering on the door, rattling the handle, and screaming about his rights, Lein gestured for a Security attendant to load the tourist's luggage onto a cart, and thereby out of everyone else's way. Lein had a job to do, and the Deregger tourist would tire himself out eventually.
The wailing and gnashing of teeth went on through the processing of four far more amenable Dereggers. One asking nervous questions about Regulus' alleged skin-situated tracking chips.
"That sort of technology is reserved exclusively for high-priority people in extreme risk of attack. It's expensive and cannot be dispensed to citizens willy-nilly." Lein recited, mostly because this incoming soul was polite enough to ask and wait for an answer. "There's nothing in the decontamination process that will be used to track or harm you, it merely exists to help protect station biota from unwelcome outbreaks of pathogens."
This particular Deregger only had a small utility knife. Safe to carry without protection, but also registered with Station Security. Just in case the wrong sort of individual used it improperly.
Finally, Tourist Regulus calmed down enough to drag himself back to Lein's desk. "I know the station's owner," he tried.
"This station is owned collectively by all the permanent residents," said Lein. "Nice try."
Tourist Regulus attempted to pull his gun and threaten his way past customs. Leading Security to pounce, disarm him, and bundle him wholesale into the next transit back to his home planet.
Some folk just never learned.
[Photo by Iñaki del Olmo on Unsplash]
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