1105-009 -- 1105-010 -- 1105-011?
- System - Torpol
- Message Center - Anchor link to section of Message Center
- Ship's Log - Anchor links to Personal Logs & Library Entries
- In Character discussions - Anchor links to discussions on this page
- Category Tags: Torpol, Crockett, Khurn, Rakke, Sultana, Harison, Silas, Harrier, Gloamhound, Vignette 4
| Timing of events |
| 10:00 - Start of Meeting at Hharn-Fel |
| 11:00 - Continuing the Meeting at Hharn-Felv |
| 11:15 - Sultana Errand |
| 11:30 - More people join the Meeting at Hharn-Fel |
| 11:50 - The last of the group joins the Meeting at Hharn-Fel |
| 15:00 - Dockmaster's Office |
Billy head to the c’s early he requested a table with a good view of the place and one were he could have a look into the back to see if there was a good exit strategy if needed later. He made note of all the staff he could see making sure if they were all different later on he know something was up. He knew this was a bit paranoid but he did need to get breakfast anyway. The Admiral had said he was having some trouble with a member of the crew so could not hurt to be a little more careful. He had not seen the Admiral in some time last he heard he had re-tired so he was very surprised to hear he was out in this part of space. He order a coffee to go and found a spot outside to watch the Hharn-Fel’s with out being seen, till his meeting. He was looking forward to getting off this planet the party life was good for a bit but too much would make you soft.
At 09:55 Billy headed in to Hharn-Fel’s he looked around at the stuff to make sure they were all the same nothing stood out he saw so he approached his old commanding officer who was calling him over. Billy saluted and stood to attention with out even realising. "Good day Admiral."
He smiled at Billy as he look up at him, he could still not get over the size of him. "You can stop that Billy I am not an Admiral any more and you don’t have to salut me. We are old navy friends now. If you please follow me in to the back and I’ll introduce you to the others. A good bunch of guy and very capable."
Harison lead Billy into the back room they had booked where the others were sitting down." This is our Caption Sultana and our ace pilot and navigator Mr Silas. Gentlemen this is Willium Burke or Billy for short. He was a Star Marine under my command for a time. He was very effective at eliminating problems when diplomacy failed."
Billy entered the room after Admiral Dawn removed his Stetson and held it behind him as he stood to. He nodded at each man as he was introduced to them.
The first thing you notice about Billy was his huge size he was not just big he was a giant. But unlike must big guys you could tell with your years of expertise in sword play he was agile a dangerous combo.
Sultana motioned for Billy to have a seat at the table with them. "I assume that since Dawn is familiar with you and your abilities that you have a skill and mindset that we could use on board. Do you have any questions for us?"
"Yes Sir I believe that is correct. No questions I’ll be happy to get off this rock before it makes me soft. Sir"
"Billy the pay would be the same as every one 50% of profits are reinvested back into the ship and the rest is slit amongst the crew with everyone getting 2 shares. If that sounds good we happy to have you aboard. Please make your way to the ship as soon as you can and if you have a vac suit that be great if not let me know."
"Glad to be aboard. I’ll see you at the ship Sir."
"Mr Ryn I presume thank you for taking the time to meet with us today we appreciate it. Sorry about the short notice. If you’d like to follow me, we have a room in the back where the others are."
"No problem!" Ryn followed close on Dawn's heels.
Harison lead Ryn into the back room they had booked where the others were sitting down."This is our Caption Sultana and our ace pilot and navigator Mr Silas. Gentlemen Mr Ryn. Please take a sit." Harison indicated ti the free seat at the table. "Would you like a drink or some thing to eat?"
"No... thank you... I was hoping you'd like to eat... ah... my cooking." he grinned and found the trio rather more serious than himself. "...as I can... cook..." his voice faded off.
"Mr Ryn can you please tell us a little about your self first?"
Ryn was large, strong and very fit. Physically imposing would be the scientific term. He bore scars about the visible parts of his skin; his face and hands, signs of a rough life. He moved quietly and wore plain, well worn and unadorned clothes; trousers, shirt and coat as a non-descript ship crew-member. Apart from the scars, he had his hair plaited in cornrows tight against his head and touching his shoulders. The Admiral decided he was not a Naval Man.
"I have until recently been a crew member aboard the Antelope Laughs, working for Captain Vas Yurridan... but I mentioned that already... yeah? Making sure that the ship was safe and the crew well cared for. I'm an all-rounder see? I can pilot, cook... mix drinks... you look like the sort that like a fine beverage... have you tried a Ghostfire? I learnt that from a planetside bartender just ten days ago... where was I? I'm fair on a deal, bartering, that kind of thing... ship's guns. Say, what kind of artillery is your ship packing? The V'Hurg? Sounds like a Vargr vomit... lovely ship though. A serious bit of kit. What's your intent with her? Raiding? Piracy? Smuggling." he lowered his voice and looked around, realising that they weren't likely to be overheard. "If I'm to be crew than I've a rights to know."
He paused a continued less nervous, steadier. "Look. I'm trustworthy. I'll try my hand at anything. And I'm interested in paid work. It don't seem like we're the same kind of people, but I'm no scrunge; I'm clean and a hard worker." he waited for a response.
Silas did not think that Ryn was his type of person at all. Apart from the mixed drinks. "Ghostfire, eh? I'd be interested to try that." This is what passes for a pirate in the Reach, he thought. He subvocalised to Vix, "What's a "scrunge"?" Vix' response was instantaneous in Silas' augmented reality googles, smiling broadly as if pleased with itself for knowing the answer. "It's a colloquial term used in parts of the Trojan Reach as a general-purpose insult for someone greasy, smelly, or slimy." Silas blinked the contact off.
Harrion leans in closer to the Ryan’s looks very serious and looks Directly at Ryn. "Look Mr Ryn I won’t lie to you, the idea of having a barman on bored give me no end of joy if you get the job I love to try that Ghostfire."He sits back down and smiles. "We will be doing all kinds of work and I mean all kinds of work." He gives Ryn a knowing wink. " As for armaments on the ship she is well endowed and yes her name leaves a lot to be desired. Being an all rounder is great what we really need is people good in a fight off the ship, now please don’t take any offence to this but you look like you might fit the bill."
"All kinds of work. That's me." Ryn returned Harison's wink. "'Understood.'''"
The discussion continued awhile covering pay, berthing on board, the layout of the ship in relation to provisioning and catering etc. Sultana, Harison and Silas could see that Ryn was rough, but was smart, capable, eager to please and strong. The decision to join the crew had been made.
"Happy to have you with us, Ryn."
"We've got a little time before Khurn arrives. I need to swing by and post the next chapter while we're on station. Back in a few." With that, Sultana rises and strolls out.
Khurn spent the morning clearing out the staterooms—half looking for mementos of his old crew, half hoping Vaak’s people had missed something valuable. They hadn’t. Thorough, those bastards. The only thing they’d left behind—intentionally or not—was a redlined vacc suit with shot seals. He held it up to the light.
[Khurn] “Well, you ain’t pretty, but you might keep the air in,” he muttered. “Which makes you the most useful damn thing on this ship.”
At least the alarm had gone off before they hit the Stores, missiles, and life support all the supplies were intact. The ship was flight-ready, stocked for four weeks. Now all he needed was an sensor operator, engineer, two gunners, and a boarding team.
“Just a crew short of a miracle,” he said to no one.
Until then, he was stuck in dock, watching the fees pile up. Couldn’t sell the missiles. Couldn’t offload the ship’s boat. No paperwork. No leverage. Kzethra buzzed a reminder about his appointment. He paused in front of the mirror before heading out. Suit was clean—technically. The color palette clashed like a knife fight, but it still suited him. One canine missing. Left eye no longer swollen shut. He grinned, lopsided.
“Could be worse.”
“Kzethra, if Rakke shows up when I am gone tell him he can find me at Hharn-Fel’s”
“It won’t look good if he is the one that has to buy the Drinks” it replied
He arrived early at Hharn-Fel’s. Not so early they’d call it loitering, but early enough to scope the place. It was quiet. A slow hum of idle conversation, half-hearted sports feed muttering in the corner. A sign behind the bar advertised the house special: Torpol Ghostfire. Khurn’s eyes tracked higher—top shelf bourbon, untouched. The barbot swiveled toward him, voice chirpy and artificial.
“You want a libation, lunch, or snacks?”
“Just water,” Khurn said, sliding onto a stool and scanning the room. “I’m waiting for someone. Hopefully not a mistake.”
He planted his elbows on the bar, stared out at the empty tables, and waited.
[Rakke] "Nah, that won't do. That's for bathing." The voice came from behind, a familiar voice coming closer with every word. "Set up two of them ghostfires, and when you've delivered them, two more. And hey, how about some kronga?"
Rakke took the barstool next to Khurn with a smile that went all the way back to his carnassials. Some might call his choices conservative, but no one knows who. The colors make sense, a scarlet doublet under an open electric blue tunic with goldenrod yellow trim. "Khurn, old buddy, I hope you've come to your senses and decided to let me advertise that ship of yours on my leaflets. It'd be hella lot easier to get clients to hire us if we had a ship to provide the whole experience instead of just hiring a guide."
Khurn smiled, with his missing tooth and battered exterior it was not reassuring. “Well, not exactly. Let’s have a discussion on opportunity…”
"That's a discussion I'm always open to have."
11:50 - Hharn-Fel
[Sultana] At about 10 minutes before noon, the front door opened to admit Sultana and (1, 2, or 3 other figures, don't know at this point who else is coming) other figures. He squinted his eyes momentarily to adjust to the dimmed room before looking around. Spying Khurn's form hunched over at the bar, he led the way past some tables and next to the Vargr at the bar. "Hello, my friend. It's been awhile, hasn't it? When I realized it'd be more than just me from my ship, I called ahead. Turns out they have a private dining room, and it was available. Shall we head that way? And your friend too, of course." He looked the other person over briefly, among other things, checking for obvious weapons. Turning, he moved towards the back room.
Khurn’s ears flared forward when Sultana stepped through the door. He stilled them quickly, masking the reaction. He was a bit embarrassed by his battered appearance—bruised eye still healing, one canine missing—but he did his best not to show it.
“Good to see you,” he said, keeping his tone steady. “This is my new Executive Officer, Rakke.”
Silas grabbed Khurn's hand with both of his in a fierce handshake, "Khurn my old friend, it is good to see you!"
Rakke lifts his head with a one-sided smile and a casual two-finger salute-wave.
After brief introductions, the group moved into the private room. It was small and comfortable, a white noise generator humming softly at the center of the table. Place settings had been arranged, and the food was already served. Khurn caught the smell of roasted Groat—one of his favorites—and spotted a bottle of his preferred bourbon waiting at the center. Sultana always did know how to run a meeting.
While the group waited for any final arrivals, Khurn made no pretense of restraint. He dug into the roasted Groat with clear appreciation, savoring each bite, and sipped his bourbon with slow satisfaction.
Rakke watched his fellow vargr. Knowing how down on his luck Khurn was, he had intended on paying for their drinks and snacks, but looking at the spread provided, decided that this Sultana was better heeled to manage that bill. Still, maybe he had underestimated just how dire the straits Khurn was in.
After a few minutes of eating and polite silence, he leaned back slightly, tail relaxed, and began to explain his current situation. Given their shared history, Khurn spoke with more openness than usual—perhaps more than he should have.
“Because of our history,” Khurn said, lifting his glass slightly, “I bear my belly to you, Sultana.” Khurn hid it well, but one of his ears involuntarily, twitched alerting Sultana to the stress that bubbled underneath. Khurn smiled, the gap in his teeth catching the light. “We can go over the reasons in more detail over drinks, the short version is: I command a fully supplied, 400-ton armed merchant—” he paused, with a wink, “—the Gloamhound.”
He let that hang for a moment before continuing.
“Unfortunately, I also find myself with not a single credit to my name to even pay my growing docking fees. Due to... let’s say paperwork discrepancies and certain local regulations, I’m unable to offload any supplies, or equipment at this port.” He glanced toward the others, then back to Sultana.
“I’m open to discussing any opportunities—for myself, and the ship. And I’d like Rakke included in those conversations. He is free to discuss any individual opportunity you may have for him as well.”
Rakke gives a slight nod in acknowledgement.
With that, Khurn pushed his empty plate aside and pulled the dessert tray toward him without hesitation. As he selected something sweet, his gaze shifted across the table, sharpening with curiosity.
“Before we go further,” he added, “I noticed the V’Hurg is registered out of Drinax. I imagine there’s a story there. How did you come to captain such a magnificent ship?”
Sultana picked up his drink and leans back in his chair. "A bit of being in the right place at the right time, and a whole lot of dumb luck. We are, however, slightly under-crewed for the work ahead, and looking to fill in a few bunks. When I contacted you, I'd thought to maybe pick up a few of yours on loan for a bit, but this might work out better. The fewer who know, the less chance of loose tongues talking." He shrugged and took a drink. "It's not that big of a deal, but I'd like to keep a low profile from anyone back home, for personal reasons."
He looked over at his partners, to make sure they agreed with him as he spoke. "What do you say you ship with us for a while? Standard shares, and we can pull the Gloamhound out of hock and put it into cold storage while you're with us. The cost for that will come from your shares, but hopefully won't take too long to make up. And we could use someone of your experience. I assume you vouch for your friend here? Both in skills and discretion?"
Khurn chewed over the offer. Sultana hadn’t said what the job was—but he didn’t need to. He knew what Khurn did for a living, even if they dressed it up in merchant terms. It wouldn’t be his ship, though. Not the Gloamhound. He’d be stepping into someone else’s crew, and near the bottom of the pecking order—maybe a notch above Rakke, if that. It had been a long time since Khurn had to scrap for position, and the last time he did, it didn’t end well. His tongue felt out his still raw socket where his canine had been. Still, the deal was solid. Better than he had any right to expect, given the state of his accounts and serving aboard what looked suspiciously like a Sindalian Harrier? That wasn’t the kind of opportunity a smart Vargr turned down. He raised his glass.
“Sultana, this could be the beginning of a beautiful partnership.”
He tipped his head toward Rakke.
“I wouldn’t have him on my crew if I didn’t trust him to get the job done.”
The other vargr gave a slight nod of appreciation .
Khurn leaned back, finishing the last of his drink.
“I’ll see to the Gloamhound’s storage, have the cost sent to the V’Hurg, and grab my kit. Shouldn’t take long. How about we report to the V’Hurg once that’s done?”
He put his hand on Rakke's shoulder.
[Harison] "Before signing on, I have a few reservations. How long do you intend to crew with us . . . as the harrier isn’t a tourist ship. We are looking for crew for our ship. Taking you on 'til you raise the money to get your ship in order is not in the long term help to us. It only serves to postpone the problem of crew for that time. If you were to sign on for a year, I would have no problem with you crewing with us. Gives us a reliable crew mate and more than enough time to replace you when you leave and you come out the other end with a good bit of credits to restart your ship. We would hold on to your last month's pay. If you leave before the year that would be forfeit."
"Now Mr. Rakke are you looking to sign on to a new ship because your captain is doing it? Or is it that last ship you were on was mismanaged and the Captain was left with a ship and no money? If so I can guarantee that won’t happen on this ship."
Khurn’s ears flicked once, catching the shift. Not Sultana—the XO. A test, then. A reminder of who held what authority aboard the V’Hurg. Khurn could respect that. What he didn’t understand was the human fixation on contracts. A forfeited month’s pay meant nothing to him. Loyalty wasn’t written—it was earned. And for Khurn, it would be Sultana’s leadership—or perhaps Harrison’s—that sealed the bond.
The vargr smiles more broadly than before with the hint of a chuckle as he pulls out his mobile comm and starts thumbing through it. "Mister Rakke. Could get used to that." Rakke looks over to Khurn and then back to Harison, "I have my own reason for what I do, but I trust Khurn. He's a good leader. I could do worse."
Khurn gave a short sniff, then pointed at Harrison and glanced toward Sultana with a raised brow—seeking silent confirmation—before turning his full attention back to the XO.
“I’ll sign your contract to serve Sultana for the year,” he said firmly. “If the V’Hurg is doing the work I suspect, I don’t see any outcome where you won’t want a fully supplied Corsair operational before long.”
He smiled, the gap in his teeth showing just enough edge.
“So—aboard the V’Hurg, or back on the Gloamhound—you’ve got me for the year.”
"A year?" Rakke scrolls down his mobile comm some more. "Yeah, don't see any conflicts. I should be good for a while."
"That’s good to hear I would be happy to have you both onboard so. No need for signing any contracts we are all people of honour here and Sultana and Silas vouched for you so your word is good enough for me."
Later Silas stood alone with Khurn and bent his ear (figuratively). The two were an unusual sight with Silas nearly 2 metres tall towering over the Vargr, "I'm okay on funds. Just between you and me. I'll cover the dock fees on the Gloamhound. You can owe me." he grinned. Damn, remember the Pallique Galleon? SUrvival is something to drink to, you old rogue."'''
Khurn placed a hand on Silas’s shoulder, his gaze drifting off for a moment. “The loan is appreciated, my friend. Right now, I’m not too proud to take you up on it.” His voice lowered, almost a growl. “I was betrayed. My crew killed. Not all of us survive.” He paused, jaw tightening before he forced a smile back onto his face. The gap where his canine used to be gave his grin a rougher edge. “But this is a new beginning,” he continued, voice brightening. “And I couldn’t ask for better company. Seeing you and Sultana aboard the V’Hurg... It feels like the universe finally dealt me a decent hand.” He straightened, brushing off the moment of vulnerability with a flick of his ear. “I’m hoping we can find a use for the Gloamhound sooner rather than later. She wasn’t built to sit idle.” Khurn’s smile grew sharper. “Once we’re underway, I’m looking forward to finding out exactly what we’re getting into.” With that, he clapped Silas on the back, and the two made their way back into the room.
15:00 - Torpol High Port — Dockmaster's Office
Khurn watched the clock on the wall, its hands ticking away with deliberate slowness. He flexed his knuckles, cracking them loudly in the silence of the waiting room. The thought of keeping the V’Hurg waiting gnawed at him. Unprofessional. His lips curled slightly in irritation. The receptionist behind the counter typed rhythmically, oblivious to his agitation. Khurn was about to clear his throat when she looked up, her expression neutral.
“You may proceed,” she said, her voice smooth and practiced. A light above the door blinked green.
Khurn straightened, smoothing the lapels of his loud, clashing jacket. He stepped forward, pushing open the heavy door to the Dockmaster’s office.
Inside, the air was cooler, carrying the faint tang of engine oil and polished metal, undercut by a stronger, briny odor of fish. It was nearly as pungent as Silas's infamous Katarulun cologne. Flickering screens lined the walls, displaying berthing assignments and maintenance logs. At the center of it all sat a massive desk—an industrial slab of metal and carbon fiber, cluttered with data slates and half-eaten wrappers.
Khurn's eyes caught the nameplate: Dockmaster Kresh Vonn—a man known for his iron grip over Torpol's highport logistics. Vonn, a thick-set figure with grease-smudged hands, took a deliberate bite of his sandwich and chewed loudly, eyes fixed curiously on Khurn as if he were an anomaly to be cataloged.
Khurn stepped forward, voice steady. “Good day. I am Khurn Svikulf, and I need to arrange for my ship, The Gloamhound, to go into Cold Storage for six months—perhaps a year. Is there a spot available?”
Kresh Vonn stared at him for what felt like an eternity, chewing with deliberate slowness. Finally, he swallowed heavily, then pushed a data pad across the desk, tapping it with one sauce-stained finger before returning to his meal.
Khurn picked up the pad and began filling out the required information. His eyes scanned the duration and prices, and he nearly choked. “That much?” he asked, incredulous.
Vonn chuckled, wiping his hands on a crumpled napkin. “Space is at a premium, and your ship is...suspiciously equipped. Torpol is a strict system. Frankly, we’d rather not keep your”—he paused, letting the words hang—“Armed Merchantman here. But you haven’t broken any system laws that I know of, and credits buy services. Take it or leave it. You won’t find a better deal. That price includes additional security precautions.” He shoved his plate aside and leaned back, eyes fixed intently on Khurn’s reaction.
Khurn’s injured eye twitched, his finger hovering over the options. After a beat, he tapped the 365-day option—the only one that included a week for free.
“In for a credit, in for the black,” he muttered, jamming his thumb down on the pad. The contract confirmed with a dull chime, sending the bill of credit to the V’Hurg.
He left the office with a forceful slam of the door, more aggressive than intended. The receptionist's head snapped around, her glare icy.
Khurn forced a grin. “Hey, you got a terminal I can use for Central Supply?”
She jabbed a finger toward a battered workstation against the far wall.
Khurn settled in, pulling up data on Vargr Vacc-Suits. He scrolled through the listings, hardly hesitating before selecting a TL10 Vacc-Suit modified for Vargr use. He keyed in delivery instructions for the V’Hurg, flagged Attention Crewman Rakke, and added a note to Sultana with a CC to Silas:
Ordered a Vacc-Suit for Rakke. Put it on my tab if it’s an issue.
He hit send, closed out the terminal, and left the reception area with a satisfied snort.
V'Hurg crew post-interview discussion
Silas sat at the Hharn-Fel later in the day, and took stock. He subvocalised to his PA, "Vix we have funds from Iskravin, Sultana and myself. Track this, and update each of the crew of expenditure. We'll be paying for some gear; vacc suits, bits and pieces, as well as fuel and ship fees. And docking fees for the Gloamhound. Although we'll be footing that bill. A favour to an old friend."
"Oh Silas, loaning Khurn money? That's adorable. Shall I go ahead and list it in your financial logs under 'Charitable Donations to the Perpetually Broke'?" Vix sent the money through to the Dockmaster and flashed Silas' remaining funds total across his goggle screen.
Banking History - Torpol 1105-010
| Date | Location | Description | Debit KCr | Credit KCr | Current Balance KCr |
|---|---|---|---|---|---|
| 1105-010 | Torpol Highport | Crew funds donation - Sultana | x | 30 | 30 |
| 1105-010 | Torpol Highport | Crew funds donation - Iskravin | x | 125 | 155 |
| 1105-010 | Torpol Highport | Crew funds donation - Silas | x | 30 | 185 |
| 1105-010 | Torpol Highport | Fuel | 20 | x | 165 |
| 1105-010 | Torpol Highport | Vacc suit - Rakke | 11.25 | x | 153.750 |
| 1105-010 | Torpol Highport | Equipment - Khurn | .635 | x | 153.115 |
Contemplating the ship numbers Silas took one last sip of his Ghostfire.
"It's going to get crowded in here, with double the crew we started with. Still well within limits, but I'm used to being able to retreat back to the Suraksha when I've had enough social for a little while. I don't have that here. So, don't be surprised or offended if I disappear into my cabin a few times. I'll adjust soon, I'm sure." He looks over the list. "Burke, Ryn, Khurn, Rakke. We'll need to find the best roles for each, but that should also give us some good backups for each spot too." Sultana flips through the notes he has on each one. "What are your thoughts on them?"
"Hmm... Burke and Ryn are muscle. Whereas Burke might be on guns, I reckon Ryn is on catering... have you tasted a Ghostfire..? Damn good!"
"Khurn is also marine material, fast and dangerous, and their experience might suit them to a bridge position; having been Captain of their own ship for some time.
"Can't say I know Rakke... but a friend of Khurn’s is a friend of mine." He subvocalised to Vix, "Send Khurn a message asking what Rakke's skill set is."
To Khurn: Requesting information on Rakke's skill set/preferred crew position. Thanks, Silas
To Silas No Imperial Certifications. Competent at ship skills. I recommend an interview.
Sultana flips back through his notes. "Hmm.. thought it was Ryn that mentioned Guns, not Burke. Not sure now which it was. Dawn, you know Burke personally. Does he have any shipboard skills we can use? We definitely need the Marine skills, just looking for any extras we can get along with them."
"His a fighter up close and personal not much ship skills other than gunner his a good shot and should be sufficient at that job. As for the new recruits we should not be giving them unrestricted access to the bridge. We should have them as marines for the time being till we get to know them all. Also might be good to pair them off with one of us based on complementary skills like if one is a J-drive be good to be paired with Silus or a pilot paired with with me. Then we have good cover on the bridge and get to know there skills and how they work. If they don’t have complementary skill a matching one could work. We should also try and get the crew to learn secondary skills needed to fly a ship."
"I am going to order 2 vac suits and charge them to the ship fund for the next mission if that ok."
Sultana nods. "Of course. And the idea of pairing folks up seems reasonable, since it nicely breaks even, 1 for 1. Let's see.. Khurn knows me and Silas, Burke knows you. Swapping that around a bit, let's do Ryn with Iskavrin, Khurn with Dawn, Rakke with Lane, and Burke with me. Sound good?" He looks around at the others, attempting to judge responses. "Not permanent, of course, but just for shake-down and acclimatization. Speaking of shake-down, we'll want to give them a bit of practice with the controls before we hit Marduk. We don't want our first test to maybe be under fire if we can help it."
"That all sounds good can’t find any fault with that."
V'Hurg later that day
[Iskavrin]
Iskavrin leaves the Harrier as soon as he can. He registers with the ship’s AI, noting that he has an appointment in Startown and should return in a few hours. With him, he carries an attaché case, a “Diplomatic Package” sticker placed over the clasp. He also carries a diplomatic passport declaring Iskavrin plenipotentiary.
He shouldn’t have this.
Iskavrin is no longer officially acting on behalf of the Court. This should have been confiscated. But the Harrier’s hurried departure probably left too many T’s uncrossed and I’s undotted.
He moves through the spaceport and reaches Customs. He shows the diplomatic passport. They wave him through.
Iskavrin continues on, taking a series of shuttles (bus-form), buses (public transit-form), and finally a taxi (for-profit transit). The route is familiar—he’s been here several times over the years. He’s even developed a rapport with the Vargr who runs the shop.
WE BUY PRECIOUS STONES AND METALS – CASH OFFER
Despite the name, it’s not quite a pawnshop. It’s not uncommon for free traders to be paid for odd jobs in assets that lack liquidity. Starports don’t accept jewels, and the higher the tech level, the less likely anyone takes gold. Free traders also tend to carry a patchwork of currencies. Banks will do the exchanges—but they charge steep fees. Places like this one aren’t meant to be currency exchangers, but it makes their job easier when their clientele is juggling inconsistent money.
As Iskavrin enters, the Vargr looks up.
"Ah. Iskavrin. I did not expect to see you so soon. I hope all is well with your pup. He is off to find his name, yes?"
"Oh, yes. If the traders kept to their timetable, he should have arrived by now. We hope to hear from him in a few months, once he settles in. My wife is already hurting from our son being away. And now I have to go abroad again."
"Oh, you're with the Navy again?"
"No. A free trader."
The Vargr laughs. "I did not think you so old, cashing out and wandering the sector."
Iskavrin laughs too. "No, no, nothing like that. I expect to be in Dranix often. But it does require cash."
With that, Iskavrin peels the diplomatic sticker off the attaché case, opens it, and pulls out a gem the size of an apple—followed by several dime-sized ones. He sets them on the counter.
The Vargr’s tail gives a small, instinctive wag. He pulls out a toolkit, confident the jewels are authentic and high quality. Iskavrin has never tried to pass off stained glass.
A laser strikes the apple-sized gem at just the right angle, and a holographic watermark appears: the mark of a Sindalian synthetic. The chemical-gravitic presses used to make these are rare and ancient. Still, the gems are prized for both beauty and utility. The smaller gems bear the same mark.
The Vargr gives an excited low howl.
"And you want it in Imperial?" he asks, already knowing the answer.
Iskavrin nods.
"I don’t have that much on hand. If you’re staying a few days, I can scrounge it up. Two to four days, max."
Iskavrin shakes his head. "Just give me the best price you have right now."
The Vargr pushes aside the dime-sized gems and taps the larger one.
"Well, I’ve got around 125k in cash. Another 125k in credits. The optical clarity and structure of that one—it’s meant for lasing. Weapons or comms work. I could get 500k for it, easy, in a year or two. I should be paying you 300 to 350k for it, Iskavrin."
Iskavrin replies, "And no receipt."
The Vargr taps the apple-sized gem more rapidly, then pushes one of the smaller jewels back toward him.
"For my risk. 125k. Cash. Agreed?" He extends his hand.
Iskavrin takes it. "Deal. Done."
The Vargr places the jewels under the counter, then heads to the safe and withdraws the payment. Iskavrin places the cash into the attaché case and seals it with a new sticker.
He nods once, then leaves the store and returns to the ship.
—————————————
Billy head to the ship it was good to be getting off world. A lot of former imperial men on board this ship if Billy was on to speculate he think there was a lot more going on but he was not and could carry less as long as the pay was there and there was action all be good. He was happy the Admiral was there was all ways a good strong leader not afraid to make the hard decision. But who was giving him trouble in the ship? He have to watch his back as he had done for him many times over the years on different missions.
He arrived at the dock the ship was impressive even with its lack of paint. He signed for his belonging he had to store at the high port as they were not allowed weapons planted side he gave it a look over to make sure it was not interfearded with all looked good he would give it a proper once over once onboard.
He saw the Admiral was there to welcome him on board he was not a physical impression man but did have a presence. It was going to be hard not to salute him and get adjusted.
"Welcome aboard Billy can I help you with your bags?"
"No Sir."
"Ok we can drop of that training gear in the cargo bay and you can set it up there. We should be able to store it on the walls when it’s full. You’ll be bunking with me for this mission we have a guest on board who I have given my cabin to. Follow me and I’ll give you the tour."
Billy followed the Admiral around the ship on the tour, the refinery of the ship was very clear to see it was a bit over the top and vulgar for Billy’s tastes. But under that she looked to be a fine ship. He was now starting to think how this sharing the room with the Admiral was going to go. He thought he just go there to sleep and spend all other time out in the ship. Doing his rounds on the ship studying in the common area and training in the cargo hold. They finished up at his new cabin small but was very luxurious looking.
"And that ends the tour this is our bunks I’ll let you get settled in if you need any thing or have questions just find me and I’ll be happy to help. Again welcome aboard happy to have you here."
After the Admiral left he stored his gear and heard to the cargo bay and set up his boxing bag and weights and set about having a workout.
