Ace goes over slowly. "All we have to do is make sure they go somewhere where blabbin' our secrets does nothin'!"
"Lock us in a cabin until we are on some world where they would take strays. Can't blab if we ain't seen nothin'!" Goog suggests.
Fleagreeb whines, "But we will be borrrrrrrrred!"
"But we can fix stuff" Protests Rattlesnarp.
"As long as ya don't interfere with us operatin' the ship, I have no qualms 'bout it."
"Agreed. Don't mind some extra hands, and I've got six!" he laughs
While Captain Niva Rova and the crew of Wintermourn may have already left with their cargo of necrografts, Menagerie's crew still has a chance to beat them to the punch. Ironically, they will have to sit still for another day or so. Tarika reminds them to at least take a meet with Scarlon Gniz of the Moonlighters.
The shirren quickly arranges a meeting at the Moonlighter's office under the transparent dome of The Eye. Upon arrival a perky lashunta receptionist offers refreshments and a seat to everyone without blinking an eye. The seating in the waiting room varies in size and shape to accommodate just about any and all species known to the Pact Worlds.
After perhaps five minutes a shirren emerges from the office section and offers a polite bow and instroduces themselves, "Hello, hello, I am Scarlon Gniz, a case manager here at Moonlighters. Please, come with me, let us talk business." They escort the crew to a medium sized conference room. "Tarika speaks highly of all of you. She says you are go-getters who know how to get a job done. That is good. Our company provides opportunities for small, independent operators such as yourselves. There are always jobs which fall through the cracks, but still need to be done. Clients have a choice then. They can hope that their cousin's girlfriend's son runs a legitimate business. Or they can reach out to us to find the legitimate business owners for them."
"Now, in addition to vetting the transport crews, we also vet our clients. We do this to ensure neither party is working with a grifter or criminal. Now, our processes are not perfect, and some clients do lie about their cargo. Some independent operators also lie, of course." Scarlon let's that statement resonate for a moment.
"You never need to accept any job offered to you. Your freedom, and our clients, to choose how and when to conduct business is up to you exclusively."
Sniz produces a glossy folder packed with promotional material about Moonlighters and their personal biography. Apparantely, Sniz is a proud host in their throuple who enjoys disc golf in Jatembe Park. "I do need to warn you that Moonlighters will assign you a low-risk, low-pay job to start with. Completion of this first task will help us to build trust with your crew. Is there anywhere you will be traveling soon? We could see if we have any work going that way if you are interested?"
"Ah, lovely little world. Yes. We have offices in the Vesk system. And I see..." they are scrolling their comm and nod their insectile head, "Yes, this could work. An auction house has a briefcase filled with memorabilia from the band Strawberry Machine Cake which needs to be shipped to a collector on Vesk-2. That is all, a briefcase. The pay is, well, low. 100 credits. Successful completion of this job will ensure you receive better offers in the future. Are you interested?"
"The case may be opened, however," Gniz peers at his comm, "It says 'Buyer requests no one handle the merch, NRFB'"
Xevras shrugs. "It seems like an easy way to make a hundred more credits on this trip than we were going to. I'm for it."
Of course, he immediately starts wondering how this will go wrong...
"Paid for going where we were heading? Sounds good, and we get to help someone out in a bit of a bind. Win all around. I'll try to make sure it's secure and locked away from prying hands and paws and other appendages" Robyte offers his own input
Robyte leads the crew in upgrading the Drift engine, with Rattlesnarp tagging along and trying to be helpful while coming off like someone's little brother. The goblin does turn out to be handy, but also rather exhausting with his hyperactive exuberance.
By the time the work is done, the black hearts are ready for pick-up. Fleagreeb seems utterly fascinated with the necrografts and their creator, Rygan Vuul, both of which elicit a long "Coooooooool," statement from her.
By the time the Menagerie departs Absalom, Goog has gotten both of his siblings to act calm, professional, and mature. However, about five minutes after entering the Drift, Fleagreeb and Rattlesnarp get into an argument about what trideo show to marathon. Rattlesnarp wants to watch "Physicsbusters", a show where psuedoscience meets special effects hosted by a manic goblin and a taciturn brenneri and typically ending in explosions. Fleagreeb is more interested in a dark drama about the Stewards trying to take down an organized crime ring.
"It is drama little brother! You wouldn't understand, you're too young!"
"You're two minutes older than me!"
"THAT MAKES YOU THE LITTLE BROTHER!"
Despite the melee that ensued from that situation, the goblins are mostly peaceful. Goog mostly keeps quiet and tries to stay out of the way. Rattlesnarp is always underfoot in engineering when not distracted. And being under Robyte's foot is quite an accomplishment!
Additionally, Xevras finds that all three (even the seemingly in-control Goog) has too short of an attention span to figure out that the Menagerie is special in any way. On occasion one or another goblin might ask questions about the ship's construction or how long the crew has been flying it, but they immediately become distracted by some shape in the Drift or blinking indicator light or their siblings chewing loudly.
Six days of crazy goblins in the Drift fly by. The ship emerges back into the material plane in the Vesk systems, close to Vesk-2. A swarming mass of space creatures float between the vessel and their destination. The creatures looks like small translucent globules with massive tentacles radiating from their bodies. Bioluminescent colors flash from their central bodies and explode in fire and electricity from their tentacles.
Indicator lights flash and an audible tone announces that sensors have just identified another ship exiting the Drift nearby. It is the Wintermourn. As soon as she and her crew adjust to normal space, the comms light up. On the display screen are her, Dizzy, and the red-skinned human woman from the bar. There is also verthani man at the helm: Jinx.
“Can’t say I’m surprised to see y’all again. Had a feelin’ you were on the same job we are. I’m impressed you managed you managed to beat us here, though. First one through this cluster of fire jellies and on planet is first in line to talk to the buyer. Deal?”
Wintermourn's thrusters kick in and the ship barrels toward the jellies.
"I am only being nice offerin' this little race. I have the best pilot in the Pact Worlds and beyond. Jinx is probably the only pilot who ever navigated that necrotic minefield in the Diaspora! These mindless critters are nothing compared to the Blockade," Captain Rovo says with a grin.
Xevras puts up with the goblins' antics with an attitude that, depending on how long he's had to deal with them, varies from amused tolerance to barely controlled rage. He does his best to remove himself from the situation when he gets too sick of them and find some spot he can tinker with the ship's software in peace.
Xevras quickly examines the returns from the ship's scanners and reports to the rest of the crew, "These pyrozoa aren't dangerous unless you get too close to them. They vent plasma that can scramble our systems up close."
Ace chitters as he turns into his squox form, comically piloting the ship with resounding precision for such a tiny form.