Just running an errand (Arya, Jaas, and Ben)

A space station in orbit of Corellia.

Guidebooks for interstellar travellers usually have quite a lot to say about bars. Generally they will devote some time to the subject of bars in spaceports, especially in orbital hubs. The advice for the careful traveller is to avoid those bars nearest the docking area unless you are seeking an interesting (and potentially harmful) experience. Such places are usually crowded with crewers just released from unloading duties who have chosen to belly-up to the first bar they find and by those petty villains who prey upon them.

The guidebooks rarely go on to offer similar advice about those bars furthest from the docking area but they should. Unless you are keen on either avoiding all contact with real spacefaring life or encountering some particularly cossetted beings (and their attendant nosey security details) the finest places on a space stations are also best avoided. They do, however, concede that the places between these poles can be interesting to see some colour.

No guidebook ever bothers to tell the reader that such places, places such the bar currently being considered by Admar Brask, are also where one should go to get some business done. They do not tell you to go to a middling sort of place to find dependable spacers to do business with. The sort of beings who have their own ships and do contracted and piecework hauling freight. Who would not take too many risks but, if you needed to go their way, would let you travel with them for a fairly fair price.

This was exactly the sort of place Admar Brask was looking for. It was relatively quiet (bordering on staid) of modest side and unshowy décor.

He stood in the doorway, a man of medium height and salt and pepper hair, dressed in a good (but not showy) suit, peering about in a slightly anxious fashion. He held a small bag in one hand. He shied away as some patrons exited the establishment. He seemed rather out of his depth.

His thoughts were quite at odds with his demeanour.

Secondary exit at far end of counter. Most probably sharp left to door to service passage. Booths on opposite wall appear empty but offer limited eyelines. A dozen patrons at...

He made his way towards the bar. He exchanged a few words with the bartender and a tall glass mug of steaming liquid was produced: a spiced tea of some sort.

As the drink was placed on the bar, Brask offered his thanks and began counting out credits.

"Perhaps you could help me with something else?" he asked politely.

The bartender gave no indication of holding a strong view (or indeed any view) on the matter so Brask continued.

"You see I was supposed to travel on Hudar's Hope to Loronar," he smiled an embarrassed smile, "Unfortunately, I entirely underestimated the time it would take to clear the security checks so I missed my connection."

No reaction. No attempt to complete the thought and skip, helpfully, to the end.

"It will be four days until I might be able to get a berth and I am in quite a hurry."

Still nothing.

"I was wondering," and here he stopped counting out credits having reached the necessary sum plus normal tip. But he kept his hand from returning to his pocket a few more credits temptingly with in easy reach of the bartender's hand, "whether there might be someone I could seek passage with."

The bartender's demeanor didn't change, and he didn't seem to exactly look at the credits, but they somehow disappeared into his pockets. He grunted, thrusting his chin out in the direction of a booth in a relatively empty part of the bar. "Ravenwing's headed to the Colonies. They take passengers sometimes."

Brask was impressed with the bartender's deftness. He nodded his tanks and made his way over to the indicated booth.

His movement was seemingly casual, picking his way between the tables. The, however, route was chosen quite deliberately to give him the greatest period of time to eyeball his potential travelling companions.

Odd that I did not spot them earlier really.

"...no, if we replaced that system with fluidics then we'd have to carry a barrel of synthenol to keep the pressure up with." Arya paused. "At least a barrel. And who's going to keep it topped off? Or if it blows out and leaks?" She shuddered. "It's better to spend a little extra and get the proper tech to replace it with."

She sipped her beer. "Of course, we don't have the credits. Fluidics are just such a pain in the ass, Jaas." She smirked at the rhyme.

"jIt iss betterr coolant ssjysstem than prroperr tech." came Jaas' reply as he set down another empty shot glass. He tapped the cracked screen of the datapad, underlining the price listed on the liquid cooling system. "Ssjynthenol jiss expenssjive jin thjiss quadrrant but jI hearr jyou can get jit cheaperr jin Alljiance sspace. jIs not rrelevant. We need lotssa credjitss fjirrsst."

The argument was not over, just postponed. He would raise it again if they ever had that kind of money in their pockets. A clawed paw reached for the last of the shot glasses and it was in mid lift that he noticed the man across the way staring a little more intently than necessary. "Pjinkjy at sseven o'clock ejyeballjing uss." The glass was shot and he set it down, wiping his face with a paw while his other hand slipped below the table to grab the handle of the knife he had tucked into his belt.

Brask caught the shift in the felineoid's posture. Was a weapon, or at least a fist, being readied beneath the table?

Almost certainly.

At another time he would have cursed himself for being so unsubtle as to be made. But he was not supposed to be subtle this time so it did not matter all that much.

Besides, it's bad manners to sneak in public. Especially when trying to find some help.

He continued to approach assessing the two spacers as he went.

I wonder what they're doing here instead of somewhere more...fitting...nearer the docking bays.

They were not quite what he had expected to find here. Their clothes, their demeanour, the sheer number of shot glasses, even the species of one of them, seemed out of place among the otherwise stolid clientele.

These are not the sobre spacers I was looking for.

By now he was almost upon them, having woven his way among the tables to just before the step up to the booths. It was rather too late to back out so he smiled gamely up at the two beings seated in the booth.

"Stop being so racist. We aren't all pink, you know." Arya peered at the approaching stranger over the rim of her pint glass. "Looks harmless enough," she said doubtfully. He looked old enough to be her father.

"Are we going to talk business or are you just enjoying the view?" She spoke up as he came near.

Brask took that as an invitation to approach closer. He stepped up to the booth but did not take a seat.

Entirely too presumptuous at this stage to take a seat.

"Please forgive my intruding upon you like this. I'm travelling to Loronar but had the misfortune to miss my connection," he gestured towards the bar, "The bartender suggested I ask you if I'm looking to get back on my way before the next scheduled transport.

"I expect you'd be Captain Ravenwing." He looked to her Cizerack companion, "And you are, sir?"

"Jaas. Jusst Jaas." He replied shortly, his thick cizeri accent made all the worse by the alcohol he was imbibing. An empty hand returned from below the table and clasped together with it's partner. It did little to make his large stature less intimidating. "Ssjit jif jyou wjissh."

"And I'm just Admar," he said smiling more broadly.

There's no need to clutter the conversation with extraneous details like family names that might or might not be on one's papers when boarding. And at least this way I can say I did not lie at the outset merely omitted certain details.

He settled into the leatherette cushions and said, in a tone suggestive of nerves, "Was the bartender correct to suggest you to me?"

"Loronar? It's a little out of our way -" she started, and jerked a bit as Jaas kicked her under the table. "We can take you on, but it'll cost you. Nine thousand." Enough to pay for fuel and the system repairs they needed. "We don't have any other cargo to make it worth our while, or I might have given you a discount." Arya drained her beer and set the glass down.

Brask allowed his eyebrows to lift in an expression of surprise. It was only half-feigned. Chartering a starship (even a small one) was always costly and it was likely that the price would be padded when dealing with someone who was clearly inexperienced in such matters. Ravenwing was, however, overcharging quite outrageously unless her ship was something special.

And, from the look of them, I doubt that very much.

The true objective here was not, however, to secure passage at a reasonable cost and he was not supposed to be in a good position to negotiate.

"That seems rather a steep price, Captain Ravenwing," he demurred, "That is more than the trip out to Loronar was to have cost me."

He seemed to consider the situation.

"Of course, if I don't make it to Loronar within the week, I shall have to pay again anyway for the return leg won't I?" he mused half to himself, "And I might not have time to do all I must."

He looked at the two spacers.

"Is the ship fast enough to make up for the time I have lost? How soon can we leave?"

Arya didn't let her eyes look down at the table that held two empty pint glasses and an assortment of shot glasses. Most of the shots had been Jaas anyway, and he was big enough that he probably wasn't even buzzed. Probably. "She's fast enough to do the Kessel Run in less than thirteen parsecs. We'll make up the time you've lost. And for nine K we can leave as soon as we fuel up."

She raised an eyebrow, "I'll need half up front." He must really be desperate to leave Corellia.

"That might prove a little difficult, Captain," Brask said apologetically, "I don't carry that much cash with me. And my transfer limit while travelling is a little limited." He smiled an embarrassed smile. "My bank seems to think people might try to take advantage of me when I am offworld."

"Would you accept three and half now and the rest on arrival?"

Jaas drummed his fingers on the edge of the table for a moment before picking his cracked datapad back up and punching a few buttons; doing his best to not scratch the screen with his long claws. Reconnecting to the local holonet, shopping channel, and fuel prices. His finger swiped back and fourth several times until he found the lowest price and then he turned the screen so Arya could see just how far they could get on three and a half.

They might have to forgo some parts, which he was less than excited about. That one time the intertial dampener went out was still fresh in his mind. Take off had never been so painful.

She glanced at the datapad and stood up, extending her hand toward Admar. "You've hired yourself a ship. We're in docking slip 33-D." Arya tossed a credit chit on the table amongst the empty glasses and shrugged into her black leather spacers jacket. "Do you need time to get the credits?"

Brask beamed at the two spacers, giving every impression of being genuinely relieved to have secure transport.

"The money isn't a problem but I do need time to collect my luggage. I have a couple of fairly large cases." As he spoke he was rummaging in his pockets. After a few moments he extracted a datapad and consulted a map of the station. "I'll be with you in...oh...let me see...er...a little over an hour. An hour and a half at most. I hope that is not too soon."

Do not look at all those empty glasses.

He got to his feet and hastened towards the door. He paused, turned back toward the table and said, "Thank you so much!" loudly enough for everyone around to hear. Then he hurried away.

"Wjith that attjitude he'ss gojing to get mugged and sstabbed beforre he everr makess jit to the dock." his tone was even, like calling out a the cycle of the sun or the passing of a weather front. It was trivial. Just another bloodstain in the gears of the society found in places like this. If there was a book of which saps to rip off first the Excited Tourist would be right at the top, right above Lost Foreigner and directly below Child at number one. He made a sweeping, dismissive wave with his hand as if banishing the man to whatever dark fate he had imagined. He knew the wave too well. He'd seen it used many times in his own society. It was how you banished the unmentionables. The trash. The detritus.

Also paying his fair he stood up, although a bit clumsily, smacking into the table with his legs and clattering the stacked glasses. Someone gave him a disapproving look from the next table over but was given only a single striped finger in reply. "jI bet you a hundrred crredjitss that he never makess jit." Some jackal was going to catch that guy and pump all those credits out of him one knuckle duster hit at a time. Pity. Jaas loved a good scrap.

"How about you just get the ship fueled up?" Arya flipped her short hair out of her eyes, watching their new passenger scurry out into the promenade and head off. "I'll go pick up the parts we need, assuming this guy follows through on the upfront payment." She held out her hand and Jaas handed over the datapad he'd been poring over earlier. If she took what they needed on a promise of payment and the credits didn't materialize...things would get interesting.

She held out her fist to Jaas and he bumped hers with his before they went their separate ways. An hour wasn't a lot of time.

"...and three passengers found in possession of illegal narcotics."

The inspection team leader did not seem very impressed with the latest haul. Then again, it might have been the comm unit distortion making his tone flatter than it really was.

Inspector Hardige sighed. This was the eighth vessel detained since this temporary inspection post had been set up and the third time they had found illegal narcotics. The last two times the amounts had been trifling, hardly worth the datawork for detaining the possessors let alone feeding them while in the brig.

"Personal use or intent to supply?" he asked more for the form of it then any real expectation of good news.

"All together: intent to supply, sir." The voice at the other end might have sounded hopeful.

Hardige perked up, "Anything to suggest that they were actually working together?"

"No, sir." There was an apologetic pause, "Sorry, sir."

Hardige glowered at the comm unit but forbore to say anything more on the subject.

"I assume that you haven't found anything else worthwhile," as he said this Hardige looked across the bridge of the dreadnaught cruiser at his unwelcome guests.

"No, sir."

"Very well," Hardige straightened in his seat, "Have the prisoners brought over and then release the ship."

"Yes, sir."

"Hardige out," he clicked off the comm unit and stood up. One of the unwelcome visitors had drifted over and was standing behind him. Hardige feigned not to have noticed, which forced the visitor to ask the question for the eighth time.

"Was he aboard?" asked the guest.

Hardige was getting a little tired of this. He was dangerously close to unleashing a sarcastic tirade explaning that he would of course let his guests know when there was something to report on their person of interest because he was not, in the final analysis, an idiot. He was saved from career suicide by a sensor officer shouting, "Vessel exiting hyperspace!"

The inspector glanced at the screens over this command station. Within seconds the readings resolved themselves. A small freighter had landed right in the middle of the artificial gravity well being projected by the Interdictor cruiser to port.

He clicked the comm unit on and delivered the usual message.

"This is the Imperial Customs Cruiser Far Reach. Your ship is being detained for inspection. Your hyperdrives will not function and we are armed. Power down your sublight engines and prepare to be boarded. Do not resist or we shall open fire. This is your only warning."