New Citadel Station
Telos IV
Outer Rim
[member="Luca Thorne"] | [member="Darth Caecus"]
"
God Damnit Tawshi, you agreed 72 credits per crate." The squat Toydarian fluttered at the foot of the
Venture's Cargo ramp. He looked smug, grinning at Cait.
"That was before I saw the condition of the merchandise, I can't in good conscience pay 72 a piece for
this quality product! I can offer 65, not a credit higher." He gestured,seeming to indicate that the self-sealing stem-bolts were somehow inferior in quality.
She paced, pinching her nose attempting to contain her frustration.
Come on, Cait. This is still a good price, and Tawshi is going to be a good long term partner she thought to herself.
She failed.
"
Fething poodoo snark! A deal's a deal. I barely cover my costs at 65!"
"And I'll take a loss at 72! 68?" He quipped back in return, clearly amused. Cait snapped.
Okay I've had enough.
Out came the Blaster - former Commonwealth Issue, the bulky beat up utilitarian side-arm had seen better days, but for all the wear and tear it was still clearly well maintained. "
You should have considered that before agreeing to our price."
His eyes went wide and she felt a cold pit in her stomach.
Cait, we may have just fethed this up.
She sighed and tried again. "
Look...Tawshi. My margins are thin and this run is out of my way. I'm just the middle man, I don't make these Stem-Bolts, and New Citadel is out of my way...70 Creds a crate...what do ya say?"
He looked thoughtful for a second, and then to Cait's surprise he started to laugh. "You humans have no subtlety! No haggling? Where's the fun? 70 creds per. My people will be here in an hour."
Cait lowered her blaster, exhausted by this exchange. Somehow charging E-Web nests seemed less draining. She sat down on one of the crates. "
You got it, Tawshi"
Tawshi fluttered away, chuckling to himself "Humans."
***Some time later***
Cait had spent the last few hours prepping the
Venture for her next job - passenger cargo. When it was just her, the ship tended to take on a somewhat "lived in" quality, but now she was taking on passengers, and the vessel needed to be ready for them. The ship was never in disrepair, so long as she had credits. She'd had to pawn off a Blaster Cannon to make ends meet once, and she couldn't remember the last time she'd had good Caf that wasn't cheap or freeze dried.
But she generally ran a profit - if a small one - and had enough money to send most of it home (for now, Nubia) to ensure her daughter Eliza had enough for school.
The time-stamp for her passengers to arrive was getting closer and closer to zero, the ship looked as presentable as she was going to get it, and it was bad form to not greet your guests first thing, so she tossed the "Property of Jedi Academy" hoodie into her quarters and headed down to the docking-bay.
**
When Luca or Kith rounded the corner into the Bay, the woman they found would not likely look like whatever personnel jacket they'd been given. Once tall, broad, proud and muscular, Cait would rarely go out without her body armor and a weapon - it was a statement. "Always Ready".
Today - in contrast - she wore a pilot's jump-suit, one size too large and with a few patches to keep the seal and Commonwealth Marine combat boots in desperate need of being replaced. Her vac-helmet hung off her belt and her old pistol sat in a well-worn holster off her hip joined by a seemingly random assortment of tools. But the woman inside looked tired, her hair tied back in a lazy pony-tail and a beat-up 'Commonwealth Navy" mug steamed with weak freeze dried caf. Her eyelids drooped it was apparent she wasn't getting much sleep, her frame was still muscular (though less so than before), but the shoulders rounded with weary resignation.
The ship didn't look much better. At one point it had been a re-issue of the ancient BT-7, updated and upgraded for the modern era. Its once gleaming white and red hull now looked...grey. Asteroidal impact marks, atmo-re-entry burns, and even a few blaster impacts were still evident on the hull and the cowl for one of the blaster cannons was conspicuously empty and roughly patched over. For all the wear and tear though, the actual mechanical parts appeared to be well cared for. The ship was fine, Cait simply didn't have the spoons to worry about presentation.
***
She saw them rounding the corner.
Game face, Falcor.
She stood up straight(ish), put down the caf (reluctantly) and tried to plaster a smile on her smudged face.
"
Hi, welcome to the Errant Venture, I'm Cait and this is my boat."