She stops for a moment, and smiles. "Of course, opinions are free. If you'd like to talk business, it might cost something, depending on the types of business arrangements you might be after."
"Its possible," Wade said. "I'm considering a small job for a day or two while I'm planetside, keeping things simple for now, if it doesn't conflict with my current employer's needs. Perhaps I can leave my comm frequency, and if you hear of any work you can contact me, for a finder's fee."
Soz looked around the junk shop. Nothing here looked all that impressive to his untrained eyes, still he hoped Ulula and Cinder could find what they needed here. Being away from the ship was helping calm his mind a bit, but he was still worried about the synthene shipment. Finally, he felt he'd put things off long enough.
"Hey Ulula, I'm going to look around outside a bit while you two finish up in here."
Stepping back outside his eyes scan the market, looking for the tell tale signs of someone down on their luck who might have the information he'd need to find out more about the synthene shipment.
Luck was not on his side however. The market was not very crowded and those that were there didn't have the look of desperation he was searching for. Sighing he moved to some of the vendors, who perked up at a potential sale. When he tried to discreetly ask about synthene, they muttered under there breath obscenities and shooed him away, saying they didn't need the business of a synth junkie. He was about to give up hope, when he had one last thought. The miners. They seemed pretty down on their luck. It would be dangerous to approach them after what happened at the docks but it was his best chance. Rushing back to the shop he left Ulula and Cinder in, Soz waited impatiently outside for them to finish their business.
Turning to the people, Elliot said, "Harritt Locard, you said? I'm sorry, ma'am, but you appear to have confused me for someone else. I do, however, know some miners that would probably like to better their fortunes."
Turning to the people, Elliot said, "Harritt Locard, you said? I'm sorry, ma'am, but you appear to have confused me for someone else. I do, however, know some miners that would probably like to better their fortunes."
The woman's large and brutish companion stands nearby, his thick arms folded awkwardly across his barrel chest.
The woman smiles pleasantly at the prospect of a potential business contact, and seats herself quietly across the table from the Doctor.
"The mines of Nenaxis are not pleasant, even for experienced miners. The pay scale reflects that. However, with the credits they will pay to break the miner's union here on Phloeron, is it any wonder that we've had trouble keeping our miners on the line? My employer sent us here to sell some of our older excavating equipment because it was sitting idle. Now, we are seeking new workers to bring back with us... so if you do have any leads, my employer would certainly pay for such assistance."
"Its possible," Wade said. "I'm considering a small job for a day or two while I'm planetside, keeping things simple for now, if it doesn't conflict with my current employer's needs. Perhaps I can leave my comm frequency, and if you hear of any work you can contact me, for a finder's fee."
The large Twi'lek woman taps her thick fingers on the table thoughtfully, and says, "I may have some work for someone who is discrete and can think, which is sometimes rare here. My poor, dear uncle up north is often in need of certain medicines.
"If you noticed here in Port Noctis, the authorities at the port are rather hands-off, perhaps? Port Bellarin's port authorities are far more vigilant. And they are mindful of anything shipped northward by train.
"I will talk with my dear uncle, and perhaps I will have a small package for you to bring to him."
The woman smiles unpleasantly at Wade, and takes note of his comm frequency if it is offered.
"I will talk with my dear uncle, and perhaps I will have a small package for you to bring to him."
The woman smiles unpleasantly at Wade, and takes note of his comm frequency if it is offered.
"I see," Wade said. "Your time has been as informative as I imagine it is valuable." He added before finishing the last of his lum and giving his comm frequency.
"I think I'll stop imposing upon your good will and time. Good day." He nodded as he walked back towards the bar.
He left the cup and credits for his drink by the tender as he made his way back out of the red doors.
She's definitely one of this world's movers and shakers. He thought. She knows how to conduct business in a manner that gets the point across without saying anything that be held against her. She almost sized me up right off. This was a dangerous game before, but without the resources I had back then...
He stopped that line of thought, dwelling would help him none. He needed to focus on the here and now. That synthene is becoming more worrisome every minute. Two probabilities. Either its hers and that's that; or its not hers, but she intends to make it so. The problem is that without more information the odds are even. I better go back to the ship. Just in case.
Laris is going to try and get a feel for things on planet, does anyone know anything about the imperial ship in orbit and what it's purpose is, are there going to be any difficulties in moving the Synthene north?
Laris is going to try and get a feel for things on planet, does anyone know anything about the imperial ship in orbit and what it's purpose is, are there going to be any difficulties in moving the Synthene north?
The ancient Duro seated behind the tea house's credit box strokes his hairless chin thoughtfully and says, "Synthene... Phloeron people have small need, no big need of such.. Phloeron is quiet planet. Perhaps if miners start big fight, then Synthene become much value. If friend in North want Synthene, then safe docking bay will be arranged, no question asked - that would be guess of mine, good lady."
As for the ship in orbit, the ancient Duro shrugs his shoulders. Such concerns do not affect his business.
Nodding, Elliot says, "I'm well aware of the danger involved, but I believe these men would be rather at home with such a place. I'm even more certain that they would much rather go back to being miners, no matter where, than remain here as semi-skilled guns for hire. Given a small amount of time, I should be able to contact them, and discuss the details. Any information you can give me would certainly speed things along."
Elliot folds his hands together softly, placing them in front of him, waiting for a response.
I bow slightly towards the proprieter in the Durese manner
"Uncertainty... (referencing the sign)
Would that mean you're also in the life-insurance business, as well as used starship parts?",
I say with a mischievous grin.
(in Durese) "...But don't let us interrupt your afternoon tea with your companion. I'll just browse the shelves - Major overhaul here, so no quick rush-job. And don't worry, the little one (Cinder) knows her way around stuff like this - HEY! hands off that!" (in Common)
Rushing back to the shop he left Ulula and Cinder in, Soz waited impatiently outside for them to finish their business.
The trip back to the quiet courtyard is uneventful. Although Soz might be stopped and questioned for being so forward in a Human-controlled part of the galaxy, being amongst his own kind gave Soz a sense of balance and belonging that he seldom felt in the cold & uncaring universe.
Staying too long wasn't too much of an option, though. This sort of place wasn't a good home for a wanderer and a vagabond with a still healing hole in his guts where mind-blotting chemicals once filled.
The courtyard is empty now, except for Soz. He was about to daydream when the steady sound of footfalls brought him back to attention.
The two well-dressed Humans walking through the alleyway towards the courtyard pay little attention to Soz, believing him to be part of the local scenery.
The Humans are both male, and healthy-looking (not you typical soft-in-the-middle pinkskin). Both of them look the part of rich merchanteer crew, but both also wear sleek blaster pistols strapped to their legs.
One Human gestures silently to his partner while continuing to walk towards the store. The other Human casually looks down the alley, following the unspoken instructions of his boss.
(in Durese) "...But don't let us interrupt your afternoon tea with your companion. I'll just browse the shelves - Major overhaul here, so no quick rush-job. And don't worry, the little one (Cinder) knows her way around stuff like this - HEY! hands off that!" (in Common)
The shopkeeper smiles and calls after Ulula, "If you cannot find what you are seeking, do not be troubled. My students, like Dohlase here, will go out to find it.... or, if they do not go, then it never was important to begin with."
The shelves in the store are laden with greasy bins full of starship parts. The curling signs of Durese icon-writing offer some help in determining what is in the bins, and numerals in Basic list the prices for the various parts.
The prices seem more like guidelines given the varying appearances of the parts in each bin. Some appear new, as if fresh from the Maker's hand (though perhaps some were re-machined or otherwise touched up before arriving in the store). Other parts have visible carbon scoring or other superficial damage, as if the still-useful parts were pulled from wrecks and other nonfunctional hulks.
Eventually, Cinder and Ulula find the row and aisleway where parts appropriate for the Citadel-class ship might be found, far to a back corner of the shop. These bins are not overly full with parts, and some bins only have one or two ugly-looking salvaged parts. However, everything necessary to restore the ship to a fine operational status is here, and a quick mental tally of the pricing labels sets the total at 500 credits.
Towards the front of the shop, Ulula and Cinder hear another voice. It is clear, and loud - the tone of a man used to being listened to. "Parts. Citadel-class. Where."
OK, Scum-Senses on 'high' - It sounds like this guy is headed right our way, and I get a bad feeling - You said we were in a court-yard, so could Cinder and I slip thru a door-way or something, maybe behind a curtain where I can still see whoever walks into the Citadel section?
............
The door to the tea house swings open again. Five men in armored vests emblazoned with the fiery orange Wellson-Sagma Bank insignia step inside. Amongst the five, a young Duro leads the way into the parlor.
They set themselves down at a table near the Duro pilots, and wave to the closest pushcart of food.
The Wellson-Sagma Duro says, without being subtle, "Blasted Imperials and their red tape. Our break time is halved..."
An older Human in the Wellson-Sagma group replies, "Everything got a reason to it, and there's a time for ev'ryman's purpose. With the troubles and all, ain't hard to see the reason ain't malice, or causin' trouble for a few hungry coachmen. May as well be mad at gettin' old... and talk like that in the wrong crowd, gettin' old may be no curse to yuh.""
Cinder attacked the pile of Citadel class parts with an intensity and abandon that was more a testament to her desperate need for diversion from the open air overhead than excitement at the chance to go through the parts so carefully laid out in front of them. Cinder jumped for the containment field processing units first. While the processing units themselves were not the large, the shielding necessary to protect the delecate electronics from incidental radiation and heat could be quite hefty. All they needed to fix the ship's hyperspace coil containment system was operational replacement processing units, but if the casings' radiation shielding had been compromised around any of the units due to the leak, the bigger, heavier and more expensive units would have to be purchased. Cinder crouched down in front of the loose processing units and did a quick once over before grabbing a likely candidate from the pile.
She was just checking the visible connections when she heard a voice behind her - it sounded like whoever it was would not be very friendly - saying "Parts. Citadel-class. Where." Cinder rose to a half crouch, processor still gripped, forgotten, in her hand as she cocked her head to listen for a response from the Duros out front. She couldn't help jumping to her feet, startled, when someone touched her shoulder. She turned and saw Ulula motioning toward a nearby pile of body and wall parts for interior remodels that would be easy to hide behind, and Cinder nodded eagerly back in agreement.
Still speaking to the woman, Elliot notices the Wellson-Sagma group. "I'll do my best to have some sort of response to you by this time tomorrow. If you would excuse me, I think I hear something interesting brewing."
Turning to the orange group, Elliot asks, "Pardon me, I couldn't help but overhear. You say the Imperials are responsible for your shortened break? What could have caused that?"
I better go back to the ship. Just in case.
The walk to the ship is short, but made slightly longer out of habit. Instead of walking directly, Wade makes several right turns around the block, sneaking backwards glances over his shoulder with each turn.
Wade notices more off-worlders on the street. Several accents, different fashions and hairstyles, many flight suits and blasters slung openly. Not a solitary face is recognizable, although admittedly the Durese and other non-humans seem difficult to differentiate and recall.
Before long, Wade finds himself walking towards the hangar bay where the ship is docked.
A small stage has been erected at the intersection outside the bay. A man and a woman in half-masks sing a Naboo-style pantomime chronicling a forbidden love between an unnamed Jedi and a Naboo princess. Legions of evil Jedi attempt to thwart their romantic relationship. However, the Jedi, led by the comic buffoonery of Jedi Master Windy, meet their ultimate failure due to the glorious intervention of the Emperor and a band of red-armored troopers in ornate crimson masques.
A small crowd claps appreciatively for the actors, and some even toss small nuggets of precious metals or coins made from the same into a small box in front of the stage.
Wade pauses in front of the man-sized door to the hangar bay. He is certain that he was not followed, and a look at the door tells him that the lock has not been tampered with in a visible manner.
Turning to the orange group, Elliot asks, "Pardon me, I couldn't help but overhear. You say the Imperials are responsible for your shortened break? What could have caused that?"
One of the men, wearing shaded engineer's goggles that hide his eyes, grunts loudly when Elliot approaches.
The old whitebeard in the group gestures to a chair when Elliot asks his question. After a moment of thought, he says, "My partners prefer I'd be quiet, but you don't look like no backshootin' space jockey. I s'pose it's no secret what Wellson-Sagma does on worlds like this. We buy rare metals from anyone who wants to sell, if the price be right."
Pointing up to the ceiling, and the sky beyond, the oldtimer continues, "The Empire is here to keep open their supply lines of bulk metals... and they ain't even here to protect legitimate banking concerns as ours.. They screen for weapons, supplies, and known monkeyspanners who want to throw a bolt into their works. We just happened to get caught in the middle. I don't want to be here when this womp rat's nest goes up in flames."
The man in the shaded engineer's goggles raises his voice to speak. "What of you, tenderfoot? What brings a Core worlder dandy to one of the armpits of the galaxy?"
She turned and saw Ulula motioning toward a nearby pile of body and wall parts for interior remodels that would be easy to hide behind, and Cinder nodded eagerly back in agreement.
Boots, hard soled, crisp sounding against the rockcrete floor of the parts emporium. Despite the sound of the lone figure marching intently, it almost seems quieter now. Perhaps it is because Cinder and Ulula huddle close behind a screen of wall panels.
The panels are a testament to many eras of hyperspace flight. Old blaster burns mark some, while others look new like the first petals of spring. Some bear ornate scroll patterns in the new Mon Cal high aesthquatic style. Other panels are still plastered with the holo-pinups of space beauties wearing unchaste outfits, as was the style in the Late Republic era.
Through gaps between the shelter of panels, the impressions of a man can be seen. Black boots, shining as if wet. Crimson leathers and cloth, trimmed in black. The rattle of a sword or sabre, slung at the waist.
Leaning ever so closer to the gaps in order to see the man better, Ulula and Cinder see a man in a scarlet waistcoat, the expanse of his back turned towards the two crewmates. The curved vibroblade and the long-barreled sporting blaster of a nobleman rest against his hips beneath a blue-grey sash.
The man studies the shelves of ship parts intently. Not seeing what he needs upon the shelves, he turns to march back to the front. His striking face is a mask of disappointment.
The clipped reports of the man's sharp steps fade again as he addresses the shopkeeper up front. "Citadel-class. Who bought parts. What were their faces like."
The Duro shopkeeper replies, "Disappointment is a dish best served as an appetizer, yes? I have not yet sold a part today for such a ship as you mention."
Again the man speaks, "I saw the parts, sensed the disorder amongst them. Someone has moved them, to purchase them..."
Then the voice from the front of the store stops abruptly, the silence pierced by the ringing of metal. A long blade being pulled free from its sheath.
Soz begins to grow impatient. He figured Ulula and Cinder would have the parts by now and he could be on his way. Figuring the two tech heads were probably sidetracked by some rare tech piece they probably stumbled upon, he decided to step in to the shop if only to politely urge them to hurry up. There was also something dangerous about the two men who entered the shop earlier. Opening the door, he stepped inside, his eyes slowly adjusting to the difference in ambient light.
"I'm a doctor, by trade. I hire on with ships all across this part of the galaxy. As for why I'm out here, my father ran an independent trading business that routinely came through this end of space. I guess you could say I've been following in his footsteps for the last few years."
Cinder was terrified, well hidden behind the various wall panels and deckplating parts. There was no way the Duro shopkeeper would protect them at the cost of his own business or life. And it wasn't as if an albino human would be difficult to describe, once the shopkeeper decided to help the man drawing his vibroblade.
Crouching next to Ulula, Cinder shivered and closed her eyes. She was just a fixit person! She just wanted to have a job somewhere dealing with machinery. All she wanted was a bit of safety and a place to rest once in a while - why was that so hard to come by?!?
She reflexively thought about Dr. Elliot - even when she'd been injured, he'd almost made it seem that everything was going to be all right - despite the pain she had been in. She yearned for a return of that elusive peace - the ability to let someone else handle the situation for a while. She sat in the deceptive peace behind her closed eyelids and found, for a split second, the very calm she'd been reaching for. "I wish someone else was here to deal with this!" she thought into the stillness, then took a deep breath and opened her eyes again.
What to do? She continue to hide, but they were trapped and the Duro wouldn't hold back for long. That seemed a dead end choice. She looked down at the processor still tightly clutched in her hand. She could maybe throw it, and try to create a distraction that would allow them to escape. Maybe she could even step out of hiding before the nobleman got really nasty - but he'd already drawn a weapon. That option seemed out. Maybe Ulula would have an idea.
Cinder looked over at Ulula and raised the processor in her hand. With what she hoped was a questioning look on her face, she pantomimed throwing the processor toward the back corner of the parts room.
"I'm a doctor, by trade. I hire on with ships all across this part of the galaxy. As for why I'm out here, my father ran an independent trading business that routinely came through this end of space. I guess you could say I've been following in his footsteps for the last few years."
If Elliot could see the man's eyebrows under his large engineer's goggles, Elliot would have seen them raise. "A sawbones, eh? Pleasure to meet ya, Doc. Always good to know a doc out here, 'specially a sober one. Last doc we had a'board drank more than the fishes. The name's Ashby, and I'm chief engineer on the Eventide. Company mostly runs big Gozanti ships out here, with heavy escort in some parts. Better to outgun if you can't outrun." (He says the last part with emphasis in case the wrong ears overheard him.)
Hmm...
Whoever this guy is, sounds like he's definitely looking for us... Or crew of the Resolute in any case...
Making sure my comm is set to silent mode, I quickly text Soz:
[ WHERE R U? CORE THUG W/ SWORD + GUN HERE LOOKING FOR US.
CINDER HIDDEN W/ ME FOR NOW. ]
Looks like ol' Mayvar didn't explain all the details on this deal of his. Though as he never exactly claimed to, I can't hold it against him. ...I DON'T get the feeling this is your typical hold-up/kidnapping of rich off-world spacers, even if this guy's packing a V-blade... Still, that old shop-keeper seemed a nice type...
if the Core-Worlder seems set to use actual violence against the shop-keeper, I'll pull my gun (Quickdraw) and blast him: 9 to-hit (8 if > 20m) for 6 dmg (i guess i would have it set to stun by default, don't want to piss off local security over an attempted mugging). if he's alerted to our position/ seems like he's coming our way, same deal and I'll try to retreat with Cinder towards any exit I can scope out... (Perception: 18)
|
Wade pauses in front of the man-sized door to the hangar bay. He is certain that he was not followed, and a look at the door tells him that the lock has not been tampered with in a visible manner.
Wade thought for a moment at the door, before stepping close to the keypad so that his body blocked line of sight to all but him. He hoped he was just being paranoid, but he felt it better to be ready.
As the door slid open he cleared the code from the keypad and stepped in.
As Soz steps into the shop, the man spins on his heel and stares at the Duro crewmember. The man is some ten paces from Soz. He holds an elegantly crafted * in his hand. In fact, his crimson clothes must cost a small fortune. Whatever he is, he is no small-time thug. His visit here has some purpose.
Consider this a positive outcome from your characterful choice in assigning stats earlier on.
Pointing to the shopkeeper, the well-dressed man says, "I see now. You are not one of these. You are with the ship. But she would not enter a shop like this, not with the likes of you. You know of whom I speak. The one who owns your ship. Who likely owns some piece of you."
He reaches his spare hand into an outer vest pocket - not an ideal place to hide a weapon. He withdraws the hand from the pocket, clutching a small jewelry box in his fingers. He tosses the small blue box to Soz. (If Soz elects not to catch it, it hits Soz in the chest & falls harmlessly to the floor)
"See that your owner gets this. The gift explains itself. My name is not important to you. And now, our business is concluded."
The man steps sideways towards the door, carefully watching Soz as he makes his way out of the shop.
As the door slid open he cleared the code from the keypad and stepped in.
Wade sees the docking bay mostly as he remembered leaving it. The ship, unmoved, squads quietly on its thick landing struts. Long emptied cargo bins and containers are stacked carelessly around the perimeter of the bay.
Wade is not quite alone, however. A dented purple astromech droid, emblazoned with the iconography of the Flumahdi coeporation, whirs and rolls around the bay. It appears to be occupied with the ceaseless task of scanning each (empty) cargo container in a neverending circuit of the facilities. The pointless and soulless task might even be depressing, reminiscent of the shuffling and scavenging that the poor and homeless do in the undercities of Coruscant.
Pausing in front of Wade, the dented droid scans him while emitting a discordant series of beeps and chirps. Then the droid continues to roll along its way towards another cargo bin.
Soz deftly catches the small blue box. Without a word, he watches as the stranger leaves the shop. Reaching down for his comlink to notify the captain and Maeris about the stranger he notices the message from Ulula. Shaking his head, he calls out.
"Ulula, Cinder? Its safe now, that man is gone. Did you find the parts you needed?
Ulula steps out from behind what appears to be a Mon Cal interior panel, re-adjusting a concealed holster.
After nodding thankfully at Soz, I bow slightly again to the shop-owner:
"Excuse me for... that. I had no idea that man was following us, nor any idea who he is or works for.
No surprise though, who ever tells the Mechanic anything?"
Thinking for a bit, I add: "Actually, are YOU familiar with that outfit he was wearing?"
If the shop-keeper's still cool, I'll have him look over the parts list I compiled from looking around (to confirm the price), and send the info over to Mayvar/Maeris to confirm the purchase/ request secure payment from their accounts. I'm also curious to talk to the shop-keeper more, he seems an interesting and intelligent sort, but I'm not sure how to segue the conversation after the 'visitor'...?
Laris confirms the costs for Ulula, though a mite reluctantly, she sends back a query "Problems?"
Sorry to see you go Nameless.
Laris confirms the costs for Ulula, though a mite reluctantly, she sends back a query "Problems?"
The Wellson-Sagma workers begin eating. Plate after plate of steamed, fried, broiled, boiled, or pickled Durese delicacies are brought to the table as the men eat with gusto.
"Pretty good for an old mining world," says the most heavy-set man amongst the W-S transport ship crewmembers. "Maybe not as good as the artisan eateries on Biccara or the famous restaurants on Wazta... but I'd come back here to eat."
The lone Duro amongst the W-S transport ship crewmembers chimes in, saying, "That's because they must get fresh shipments of marine creatures from Dantarran or even Mau Kolto. Probably costs them a fair bit too..."
Says their leader with the Engineer's goggles, "Costs money to do that'un and fly fish in here. Must got some sweetheart deal to get old man money to send fish this way. Must be some sort of action on the side to get someone ."
The other Wellson-Sagma nod quietly, and return to the food in the plates before them.
If the shop-keeper's still cool, I'll have him look over the parts list I compiled from looking around (to confirm the price), and send the info over to Mayvar/Maeris to confirm the purchase/ request secure payment from their accounts. I'm also curious to talk to the shop-keeper more, he seems an interesting and intelligent sort, but I'm not sure how to segue the conversation after the 'visitor'...?
The old Duro shopkeeper emerges from behind the shelter of his counter. Where there might be remnants of fear or uncertainty on his face, there is none. His expression is calm and placid. The shopkeeper closes his eyes and says, "Having ridden a wild ur-beast, the poet Esarrb said, difficult moments are made difficulter when you let your blood get up."
Sorting through the various parts laid on his counter, he quickly calculates a total in his mind. "For you, 475 credits. I hope they ease your travels."
When asked of the shop's less welcome "visitor", the old Duro says little. "The man who was here has not been a customer before. He did not seem like a man who has spent much time on an engineering deck."
When asked of the shop's less welcome "visitor", the old Duro says little. "The man who was here has not been a customer before. He did not seem like a man who has spent much time on an engineering deck."
Cinder clutched half of the parts they'd purchased tightly to herself and nodded emphatically with wide eyes at the Duro's words. She wouldn't let someone like that mess with any machine she cared about.
"Can we go?" Cinder asked Ulula hopefully. She yearned to get back to the ship, even if it meant venturing back outside. She managed to shoot a nervous smile at the Duro shopkeeper, who seemed like a decent enough sort, as she began to inch toward the door.
Waiting as Ulula finishes her transaction with the shopkeeper, Soz examines the blue box that was tossed to him. Wanting to make sure he wouldn't be handing something deadly over to his employer he opens the box and looks inside.
Pausing in front of Wade, the dented droid scans him while emitting a discordant series of beeps and chirps. Then the droid continues to roll along its way towards another cargo bin.
Wade strode up to the ship and into the ramp, he placed his hand on the slugthrower in its holster, but didn't draw it. He walked into the ship and made a quick check to see if anything had been disturbed. He hoped he was just being paranoid.
OK, I'm sortof bummed because I wanted to chat and hang out with this guy more, I couldn't really swap ancient duro poetry quotes with him, but i like his attitude somehow... but what with armed thuggery, cinder pulling on my hand (essentially), and... Soz... I'll just have to leave it up to the Force if I see him again (I don't know how long we'll be on Phloeron).
So after saying thank-you's, good bye's, we'll head out...
Checking with Maeris, I inform her she has a secret admirer and find out if the place she's at serves Live Urchin Delight, and we'll head there.
Wanting to make sure he wouldn't be handing something deadly over to his employer he opens the box and looks inside.
The box opens without difficulty.
The jeweled locket within the box gives the impression of expense. The silvery metal face of the locket is studded with light blue gemstones, arranged in a hexagon.
Opening the locket reveals some sort of circuitry, including a miniature holoprojector amongst other unrecognizable technology. At once, the blue-ish gemstones on the locket begin to glow. The cruel face of the "visitor" appears in a flickering holo-image. "This message is not for you."
Then the image fades, and the locket returns to an inert state.
He walked into the ship and made a quick check to see if anything had been disturbed. He hoped he was just being paranoid.
Wade's footfalls echo through the ship. The corridors are empty and dark with the crew scattered around Port Noctis.
If someone has been in here, Wade finds no trace of their having ever been aboard.
Walking to the crew berths, where Wade keeps his spacer's chest, and where Wade bunks in his off-time, Wade sees nothing out of place.
After a few minutes of deliberate searching, Wade is convinced that there was nothing changed or taken from the ship.
Satisfied that there is nothing dangerous about the locket, Soz closes the box and places it in one of the pouches of his bandoleer. Without looking behind him, Soz exits the building and begins heading to the rendezvous point with Maeris. He moves with purposeful quickening strides so that Cinder won't have to be out in the open for too long. Whenever possible he chooses paths under awnings using his dangerous appearance to scatter any crowds that may slow them down.
Soz, Cinder, and Ulula navigate through the Durotown's busy streets, moving back to the tea house.
The crowd parts calmly around Soz, though perhaps closer than he'd like. The press of foot traffic and the narrow distances between pedestrians makes the compression of space inevitable. Still, Soz manages to carve out a niche for the young Cinder to walk behind, carrying an armload of parts.
Nobody dangerous steps into the path of the trio, in any case. And, Ulula notes, nobody seemed to follow the group, either.
Before long, the hurried piping music from the Durese tea house can be heard. Then the red door of the tea house comes into view, and the trio makes their way inside the fragrant eatery.
Wade made his way back out of the ship and to the main entrance, but then turned back for a moment and looked for the little droid he met earlier.
"Droid, I need a favor. Can you send me a comm if anyone other than this ship's crewmembers enters this docking bay?"
"Droid, I need a favor. Can you send me a comm if anyone other than this ship's crewmembers enters this docking bay?"
The purple droid hums and chirps affirmatively, halting its rounds briefly to listen to Wade.
The droid pauses to scan Wade (again). Once it locks on to the comm signature and channel of Wade's comlink, the droid beeps again before returning to its ceaseless patrol along the edge of the docking bay.
"Thank you." Wade said as the droid rolled away. He knew most wouldn't bother, but he did anyway.
Stepping back outside, he found his way back to the street play. Whoever wrote this thing is horrible.
OK, I guess we're at the same dive as Maeris, meeting anybody she's talking with (if we find her),
I will insistently be introducing Cinder to the delights of Live Urchin Delight.