Our group finds themselves exiting the Praxis Warp Gate in proximity of the local trading hub known as Harkon Station in Federation space. The station is abuzz with activity as ships come and go. The majority of vessels traveling through this area of space are trade ships, making a living transporting cargo from one place to another. Federation police ships lazily drift about space scanning periodically for contraband and troublemakers. All in all Praxis 'airspace' is fairly mundane and uneventful. The Soaring Sparrow was on it's way transporting some raw Nickel ore to a buyer on Harkon Station.

Aboard the Sparrow on the bridge sits a rather bored looking Kyo at the helm, casually smoking a cigarette as she tends to minor course corrections. I hate boring jobs... She said to no one in particular. It was times like these that Kyo got a bit anxious. Despite completely understanding the need for them to conduct these simple runs it was still irritating to be doing something so pedestrian as transporting cargo. Some days she really missed the excitement of being a Marine, taking out low-life scum and cruising around the 'verse. She got to thinking: Maybe we can find something exciting to do here?

Suddenly the comms came to life and a rather average man came up on the screen. "This is Harkon Station Traffic Control to unidentified vessel. Please declare yourself and your purpose here so we may direct you accordingly." The rehearsed and monotone nature of his speech made it clear that he had been at his job for a long time. "ISS Soaring Sparrow requesting docking permission for cargo shipment to Harkon Station." Kyo replied with an equally monotone demeanor. "State sponsored or private merchant?" "Private merchant." "Please proceed to docking bay Bravo(B)-14, docking frequency 001.25.693. Have a pleasant stay." The entire ordeal was fairly mundane.

Kyo switched to the docking frequency and let the station's automated docking system take over. In just a minute they would be docked at Harkon Station, dropping off the cargo, and hoepfully moving on to something more exciting. She could only hope that there was some kind of bounty on a pirate in the local system, there usually was and the pay would be much better than any cargo run they could find here.

The medical lab was dead silent, the seated android inside focused solely on his computer teriminal. The speed with which Andreas was both reading at was beyond what any human could pull off. He was going through medical reports of each crew member, he had requested one from each of them when he joined, he wasn't certain how much of the reports had actual information or how much was missing. Humans were strange like that sometimes, didn't want things to be known, even to the resident medic.

The most interesting profile was of the terribly disfigured engineer, it was remarkable how much the human body could withstand, also how advanced medical science was that he was able to live a normal life after withstanding such terrible injuries. In past times, a man such as him would have been shunned by the public, just by appearance. Andreas would do no such thing, just keep a closer eye on the man, medically speaking. Another of the women on the ship was also disfigured by burns, perhaps she would be able to share a sense of camaraderie with the burnt man.

The other one which peaked his interest was the other android, Cyl, a female. Andreas had spoken few words to her, though he was curious about her. He wondered how much different she was from him, maybe she possessed less programmed features, or had even abandoned all. As for the medical sense, he would be able to do very little if she was damaged, he fixed up organics, not fellow sentient. His knowledge on that was limited.

He had noted key details from each of the profiles and as such closed the reports then locked the terminal. Andreas didn't actually think anyone would other than himself would try to access it, but it was a habit which was programmed into him. He had never asked why such a thing was put into him, but he deduced it was because medical information could be valuable. If one with ill intent were to acquire such info, then they could possibly abuse it.

With his attention turned away from the computer his eyes wandered to the window behind him, it give him a view of the outside of the ship. It was often outer space, which interested the android. There was so much to see and learn, millions, more likely billions of worlds each with their own unique features. The thought of exploring at least some it made him smile, if such a thing was possibly towards the end of his short lifespan.

This time the view was not just the darkness of space, rather it was Harkon Station, an artificial platform, it reminded him of a different one he had lived on a short time ago. Andreas' gaze stayed on the station as they approached it, his mind loading with past memories, not sure what he was meant to feel from them.

Cestus woke up when the ship left hyperspace. He had fallen asleep on the blanket he kept on the cargo hold. Again. The loadmaster drank in the darkness of the now full room and used it to clear his thoughts. We are minutes away from docking, better do a last check up, he thought as he slowly incorporated himself.

As he had done so many times before Cestus slowly made it to one of the nearby wall and turned on the caged lamps in order to avoid turning the entire hold’s lights. The lamps glowed soft yellow, their once-white shades stained brown by age and their light was weak, not helping visibility too much but enough for him to get to the control panels.

The bionic replacement glowed dull green in the half-light of the hold. Screen illumination from various consoles threw stark slashes into the gloom, the activation icons upon them grainy and emerald.

He worked with silent drowsiness. First he consulted a data-slate, observing basic temperature readings and the general state of the hold. Then he proceeded to look through the inventory, making sure everything they had supposedly loaded on was there and they were not carrying any surprises.

Amongst the goods listed on the bill of lading were “Twenty ore containers, fully certificated, transported for the purpose of sale and distribution at Harkon Station”. Further fine print revealed that each container held a couple hundred individual ores or partial ores, secured by mostly equal groups on crates inside each container.

Cestus then made sure each container’s certificates had been pasted to them, and their seals were intact. He took out his scanning wand, and flashed each certificate, making sure the code matched the number on his docket.

Once this was done the Loadmaster checked the other miscellaneous inventory they had and would stay on board. These included: medical supplies for the android in charge of that field, spare parts for the engineers, a complete crate of some drug named Beaumaris, and all the food supplies he possessed and could use on the kitchen.

He did this to know what had run out and had to be bought when they docked. After listing all the supplies needed on the kitchen he sent out a message to the rest of the crew asking for them to send him what they needed to be purchased out of the ship's budget and then proceeded to give the Hold a last check before closing the compressed doors and leaving for the bridge.

Usually he knew what everyone else would need but the crew aboard the Soaring Sparrow constantly changed and between cooking and sleeping he had spoken virtually nothing to the others. Maybe when delivering the supplies they asked for would he have time for proper introductions?

It was a small journey from the docks to the bridge barely giving him time to light a cigarette, the faint hiss of escaping pressure greeted Cestus’ arrival on the bridge as the automated portal allowed him entry, before sliding shut in his wake.

“Sire, the cargo is ready to go and double checked,” he announced while walking in, he then inhaled a big amount of smoke before continuing. “I’m requesting funds to buy any supplies we are missing as soon as we are in ground and the cargo delivered,”

The engine became almost silent when the automated docking system engaged and started to very slowly maneuver the ship into its designated spot. A few last sparks danced onto the floor as Janet finished a weld on the waste management system. It was mostly just a cosmetic problem, but better safe than sorry. Especially if sorry meant for her to crawl through the already tight maintenance duct whilst trying to avoid drowning in urine. Maybe a somewhat silly concern, but she had heard similar stories before, although the sources were more than questionable.

The job had been quiet, almost boring. The soaring sparrow was basically a good ship and besides the usual maintenance there hadn't been any major problems up to this point. Janet wondered, not for the first time, if she had forgotten to check something. The calm humming coming from the back, told her that the main engine was still running, the weight of her tools against her body meant that the artificial gravity was working properly and the fact that she hadn't suffocated was a sure sign life support was indeed online. Still, she was going to check the systems anyway, you never quite knew for sure in space travel - a lesson everyone had to learn sooner or later.

As she crawled back towards the engine room, Janet mentally went down further on her checklist. She would have to coordinate with the loadmaster for refueling later. Damn she should have at least memorized his name, but she hadn't really had a chance to talk with him yet, or any other member of the crew, since she had only joined a few days ago. Luckily she knew that she had made herself a note somewhere. When she first came aboard, the medic had asked her for a few medical details, but she had bailed shortly after, just before he would have been able to ask her for anything else. Janet was not exactly eager to get a physical examination. The only crew member she had regularly stumbled across was the burnt man, who seemed either unable or unwilling to talk, but he hadn't gotten in her way yet, which was at least something.

Janet climbed back into the engine room and went straight to the console she had hooked up to the ships systems. Everything was looking great just as the ship made it to the dock. Looking down at her dirty clothes, she realized that she'd better get changed before getting off board to explore the station and while she was at it, there was a particular note she needed to find.

Jim Perch walked out of the shower, the rivulets running down his back. The cold of space seeped through the walls and insulation, forcing him to shudder like a broken ship. He wiped himself dry and toweled his hair until the creeping sensation of automated flying tickled his attention; they were docking at Harkon. It had been a long trip, and more than once he had almost ploughed the boat into a star out of sheer frustration, but here they were to drop off nickel for a bare pittance. How joyous. Merlin dressed in his usual attire after gauzing the naval tattoo, a plain white crew shirt, his jacket, and boots: the knife was snuggly tucked under the collar of said boots and the handgun sat in a shoulder holster on his back, hidden from sight. He exited his cabin and turned a sharp right and was promptly at the cockpit door. So close, in fact, that the cigarette smoke from Kyo was infecting his room.

"Get that death stick out of my cockpit," he said, strolling into the cabin. Kyo was sprawled out at his flightboard, the scent-invading portable cancer machine dangling ever so gently from two fingers. Smoke trailed up to the ceiling and then was wafted out by the air conditioning to be cleansed by the scrubbers. Kyo was He reached the intercom system and moved the lever from 'Off' to 'Ship'. Between these options were each individual room, in the case of a lazy crew member that needed a prompt awakening. "Ladies and gentleman, we have arrived. Docking will -" the ship thooked lightly from the air lock "- commence right now. If you could make your way to the airlock for depressurisation, with your com-nets already attached, that would be superb. You're all free to explore Harkon until I need you back. Last months paycheck should be in your bank accounts. Enjoy your vacation," he said, sliding the lever back to 'Off'.

Cestus walked in to the cockpit. A brute of a man, with muscles that would make any man want to admire. It was evident he was cautious of his body though, which was very noticeable as he always made the best efforts to hide the ghastly scarring which criss-crossed his body like city streets. Everyone on Jim's crew had scars: if they were physical, mental, or of the heart and soul, a scar would always be treated with care on the Sparrow. Jim had his own wounds he neglected to share with the crew, things that didn't concern them. But the others had their own, and of course they may not tell him everything, it was precisely 5% of his business after all, but he did require to know what the danger of bringing them aboard was. If they had a mild disdain for a vegetable, then fine, he supposed he could let them on. If they had recently assassinated the Terran Governor though, that would be a crew member he could happily bypass. In Cestus' case, he had said he was in the Rikari pits and that was all he needed. In any case, Jim was happy to have him. He was strong as a gluon, and a damn fine chef. "I prefer My Lord, and My Lord is sick of these ruddy cigarettes," Merlin said. He plucked the cigarette from Cestus' mitt, smiled sarcastically at the man, and then rolled the tip of the fag with his wetted fingertips. "When you get off my ship you can kill yourself all you want, I'm sick of my meals tasting like ash though." Jim pulled out his wallet and handed Cestus 3000 credits. "If you need any more get me on the com-net. Get me a bottle of that Kongi whiskey, the sweet one. I'll check if the others want anything, I'm going to go check the cargo." Merlin left the cockpit and headed for the cargo bay where he inspected the bonded crates, making sure they were properly sealed. He double check the data-slate, confirming the orders with what was on the ship. Everything was a-okay. He swished his finger across the surface of the data-slate to sign it off, and put the tablet on
the desk in the corner. As he stepped over, Jim looked left and saw the blanket on the floor again. Not even for the fourth or fifth time, but it was more than four hands worth, that was all he knew. But Cestus did his jobs well, so what could he shout at him for? Not doing someone else's job too? Jim turned and walked into the corridor.

The Soaring Sparrow was a reasonably sized ship. Larger than the typical small ship, but more than enough for the seven of them on here. It only had the one level, but the cargo hold was submerged more so that it had a larger volume in the unfortunate incident of a poisonous gas leak. But it was home, and therefore it was clean. The walls were a a very light-grey, before the point of creepy and still in the realm of brightening. The floors weren't grated as he had those horror shows replaced years ago when he first bought them. It was a flush, smooth, scuffed pathway, and bright lights along the walls to illuminate. All the air conditioning systems were well-maintained, and the walls were cleaned frequently and re-coated when they became particularly bashed. The cockpit was dark so that they could see more clearly in the void, the only lights being from the dials and screens. Each of the rooms were furnished with a bed, toilet, corner shower, and a window to view the empty. The dining room was the best looking room in the whole ship. A large oak table hunched majestically in the centre, while a semi open-plan kitchen was nearby. The floors were a wood-substitute, that looked, felt, and smelled like real wood but it was another fine Terran recipe, originally created when the Kongi were first discovered on their many tree-covered planets. The wood substitute was used to create authentic looking camoflauge for soldiers, bunkers, weapons, in the event that the two empires went to war. They never did, thankfully. But it made a really fine interior design choice.

As Jim exited the cargo hold, he turned right to walk to the engine room where he could hear the sounds of welding and grunting. He slid the door back to reveal tools haphazardly thrown across the floor and a splayed body on the floor trying to fix something. Jim had never had too much of an indepth mind beyond what he had to know, and even that was mostly gone now with the hiring of an engineer. "This place actually looked cleaner when everything was broken," Merlin commented to the engineer. "I know I haven't really seen you since you've been aboard, apologies for that. It's been some kind of trip, I'll tell you. How are you liking it here? Everything alright? Any issues? If so, it's a pretty small ship so you'll be able to find me somewhere here, or just yell. And we're going on Harkon soon, so do you want anything bought for you? Our Loadmaster, Certus, he's picking up supplies and was wondering." The engineer and the captain spoke for a while before he left and headed to the med lab next door.

"Andreas, my man. How are you? No-one dead yet?" Jim asked. "Certus is going out for supplies while we gallavant. Are you needing anything?" Andreas replied and they parted ways, Jim onto the next crew member. Cyl Kitt was in her cabin, with what looked like a scrapheap of electronics. God knows that a load of those were probably taken from the ship's own components. Jim only hoped it was nothing important otherwise hyperspace might become a very interesting journey. "Cyl, how are you? What have you torn apart this time?" he asked the android. She remained fiddling with a bunch of wires, sitting cross legged as she did so. "I have not 'torn apart' anything. These have been extracted from the ship," she replies. "And, to your first question, I am fine."

Jim nodded. "I'm very glad to hear it. May I ask why you've extracted potentially vital components? Are you building something cool?" He actually hoped she was, she was very good at building cool things.

"When it is done, it will not be 'cool'. It will be quite hot. I plan to see how well the reactor functions when hit by an Electro-Magnetic Pulse." Cyl says, connecting more wires. Jim looks at her for a moment. "Oh, okay, no," he says. He reaches out and grabs ahold of the wires and tucks them in the back of his trousers. "That's not happening. Come on Cyl, we're going for a walk," he said.

"B-But, you said I could experiment on what I wished," Cyl says, trying to take back the wires before they went into his trousers. Just in case, Cyl took the remaining components and dumped them into her uniform. "Why is it required that we go on a walk? I was trying to further the ship's defenses." She says, standing.

"Can you remind me if I mentioned nothing that will kill, maim, or damage the ship? If I didn't I'm declaring that now. He watched her put the wires in her own clothes. "That's real mature Cyl, real mature," he said. Jim walked out of the room and back up to the engine bay. He opened the door and chucked the wires from the back of his trousers onto the ground. "I have no idea where these came from. No idea at all. If you can figure it out your drinks are on me. We may die after all," Jim remarked to the engineer. What was her name again?

"The retrieved components for the Electro-Magnetic Pulse device had been retrieved from... Oh, I think I forgot," Cyl says, as if to rub it in.

"See? We're already dead," he said. Jim reached over and plucked the wires from Cyl's pocket and tossed them to the engineer. "Sorry, we don't do over-time." Jim spun and looked at Cyl. "Alright, just a few things left to do."

Jim walked down the hall past Cyl's room to the neighbouring cabin, with the android following behind. He looked inside and saw Glargh. "Hey Glargh, Cestus is going out for supplies and is asking if anyone wants anything. Anything you want?" Jim asked. Glargh was one person he truly felt sorry for. He hadn't really been able to communicate with the burned fellow, but he seemed like a sincere guy, so Jim didn't mind bringing him aboard. He was working well and hadn't caused any fights, therefore Jim was happy to welcome him to the Sparrow, seemingly a home for anything broken, bent or buckled. He spoke to the man for a little longer before leaving and returning to the cockpit and vomitted out what the remaining members had asked for. "What about you, Cyl? Do you need any supplies that are safe to bring aboard for the ship and its crew members?" Jim asked the android by his side.

Cyl's eyes seemed to light up when she was asked if she needed any supplies. Unfortunately, Jim had made sure to include the fact that they had to be safe for the ship and it's crew members, however that only narrowed it down by a fraction. She began to read out a mentally prepared list.

"Yes, captain. I require a mass introspectromiter, a stahiman obalhorse, twenty three barrels of reactor coolant, two barrels of ionized porat cells..." Cyl continued to read off a list in her head that seemed to never end.

Jim looked at Cestus and Kyo, incredulously. "I'm assuming those are safe since you are who you are, but you're not getting any of that. It's like buying bleach and ammonia; they're safe seperately but together, not so much. I meant something along the lines of, I don't know, a book, some alcohol, an apple. Androids are so... interesting sometimes," he said. Jim sighed heavily.

"Book, alcohol and an apple? Organic products? Well, there are some organic products that I require..."

Jim looked curiously. "I'm listening. Will I regret listening?" he asked. A moment later, another list began via Cyl's mouth. "A gumworm from the world Eernata, three toial fruits, a barrel of nine hundred bunebub grapes, a pair of Itanar whales..." Once again, she did not stop.

"I had to ask," Jim muttered. "Did you want to come with us, Kyo? To look for another job?You got everything you need Cestus?" he asked his first-mate and the Loadmaster. "Let's meet everyone in the airlock," he said. Jim moved to the airlock, Cyl following and continuing to list the products that she required, all organic, and met the five other crew members there, ready to depart. He tapped the button and a wave of stale air overcame the crew. "How is it the recycled air is better than this air?" Jim mumbled. The crew split and Jim and the andriod went left. The nickel ore was already on a floating pallet that Jim took ahold of and started pushing along the edge of the station.

"Did you catch all of that, captain?" Cyl asks, as she walks beside him. Her human, cute side decided to walk a little faster and then sit on the pallet that Jim pushed.

"Of course I got all that. Cestus is going to see what he can do in the market," Jim fibbed. A little white lie. He didn't want to refuse her, he quite enjoyed her reasonable cheeriness aboard the boat, but what she wanted was dangerous. So he told a white lie. He pushed the cart a little more until he could see the fat, squat man waiting him on the park bench. "Quick question Cyl, how much do you figure all this nickel ore is worth?"

"Visually, a lot. Otherwise, I don't know," Cyl replies. She lays back in the pile of nickel, yawning loudly. "I got no sleep," she says, despite the fact she required no sleep. It was only human of her to try and sleep, though, and she sometimes just laid idly for a while in a bed, or sometimes on the floor until someone found her and shifted her.

"Thank you, science officer," Jim replied sarcastically. "Why, rough night? Bad dreams?" he asked idly. He couldn't tell if she was putting it on, the human side of her, or if there really was some code in her that made her say some jarringly human things. The cart stopped just before the fat man. "I have a few conditions before anything. One, if you cuss I will find a new buyer. Two, tell your men to stand down. There's no dodgy dealings happening today. Three, I'm taking no less than 4000Cr away with me. Any more is great, any less is a no deal," Jim declared. He watched the man as his eyes slipped down from Jim's deadpan eyes to the young, cute blonde girl sprawled over the crates. "And she is not part of the deal," Jim said.

"Sir, I have looked at the ore amount. The ore weight indicates, minus the weight of the crates, that they are worth 3998 point 36 Credits," she says, her head tilted back to look at Jim. She then tilted it forward to look at the man in front of her, before sitting up straight, remaining on the pallet, though.

Jim smirked and looked at the man. "Well there we go, straight from the walking calculator. 4000 and we can go," Jim said. The man still gaped at Cyl, which in turn made Jim feel uncomfortable. He slipped a hand underneath her arm and move her off the crate, walking her behind him. "4000, take it or leave it." The old man returned his gaze to Jim.

"How much is she worth?" he asked, drool almost visible on his chin. "She's not for sale, she has her freedom. This nickel, on the other hand..." Jim tried to move the conversation.

"An hour with her, you can keep your scrap, and I'll pay 5000Cr."

"You can do it," she whispers. "I'll just run from him afterwards."

"3500 Credits. Final offer," Jim said. He held the android behind his body, trying to shield her from the perverted gaze.

"6000 Credits and and her for 30 minutes," he snarled.

"I think we're done here." Jim pulled the pallet back, keeping a beady eye on the fat man. "Wait!" he shouted at the pair. "You'll get 2250 for the crates and I don't ravage your woman."

"Deal," Jim grudgingly said. The fat man tossed a pretty light purse at them, while Jim pushed the pallet to glide to him.

"A pleasure," he said, bowing at Cyl. "Turn around and walk, Cyl," Jim said under his breath. He looked up at the surrounding buildings for anything suspicious. It was unclear to Jim whether or not Cyl had noticed what he had muttered, but she began to walk over to the man. To her, the man had not said that he wouldn't have her, just that she wouldn't be touched.

The deal had been done, he couldn't willfully let her go with this obscenity of a man. She was out of reach, due to his unawares that she had moved. "Cyl, it's your captain. Listen to me very carefully. Stop walking right now, turn around and walk back in this direction. Do not look at that man I just dealt with, but walk straight to me. We are going to leave with this money and we are going to meet up with the rest of the crew. Do you understand, Cyl?" Jim asked, his voice stern but crystalline.

"But you just sold me off to this man," Cyl replies, halting. "The man asked for me for thirty minutes, and got me with the promise that he would not 'ravage' me."

The fat man looked very pleased with himself as he beckoned Cyl with his hands. Jim had three options: let Cyl go with this creep; grab her and run, where they may be hunted; or kill him. The fat man's men had stepped down as he couldn't see them watching from any vantage point. Jim had only killed a few men in this type of situation before, but right now he felt very justified. His right hand slipped underneath the leather and gripped the holster. The fat man realised what was happening, as did Cyl. She screamed and fell to the ground, holding her hands over her head. Jim pulled it out quickly with one hand and stepped forward, firing off a round. It pinged off the wall by the fat man's arm and showered the man's shoes in sparks. Another round exited the barrel and struck center mass, sending the vulgarity to his knees. A third round found the man's shoulder, splintering bone. People started to look around corners. The fourth and final round spiralled towards the man's throat and punctured his trachea, allowing the pervert to both suffocate and drown in his own blood. Jim bent down and grabbed Cyl, who was crying tears of fear, forcing her to run back the way they came and along the other side of the station to the bar where he normally met back up with the crew, The Spinning Schooner. He pushed her in and forced them through to a corner booth, where Jim ordered two pints of the local beer, speaking into the com-net about the situation he had just thrust everyone into. "There's been an incident. Watch yourselves until you get to the bar," he said to the crew. Cyl cried the whole time, quivering in absolute fear at what had happened. "Oh my god, oh my god," she sobbed.

"It's fine Cyl. Some people deserve to stop being here. He didn't deserve to be here any more," Jim said. He was panting heavily from the running, and took a heavy, deep gulp from the glass. The froth rested on his upper lip like a poor man's moustache. Cyl's only reaction was to place her head on his shoulder and cry out her human-like tears. Jim placed his hand on her hand and stroked her long blonde hair, softly and smoothly, hoping to calm the girl down. She sniffs, quivering gently.

Glargh sat alone in his quarters, praying quietly to a cross he kept hung above his bed. Being on his knees to pray made both of his legs hurt like mad, yet he found the comfort it bought his mind worth it. When he prayed, it felt as if the fog around his mind was lifted and he could think clearly. And praying was the only time he found clarity, leading to Glargh rattling off engineering details, components and general details of his day to the big man himself, despite his dubious belief that he actually existed.

The door slide open and the captain walked in, followed by an android. Glargh's eyes widened at the sight of the android, causing him to immediately rummage through assorted papers on his desk, knocking various design documents and dusty magazines to the floor. He grabbed firmly a loose pile of notes and hobbled over to the pair.

"Hey Glargh, Cestus is going out for supplies and is asking if anyone wants anything. Anything you want?" The captain asked. Glargh nodded and smiled, causing small flakes of green skin to crack and fall from the corner of his mouth. He handed a small piece of note paper to the captain. On it read:
"Glargh's Personal Shopping List
-Latest issue of Galactic Geographic
-Pens
-Pencils
-Notebooks x3
-New bedsheets"
Handing the list over caused Glargh to look over at his mattress. Latent fuel that had lingered in his skin had slowly deteriorated his current sheets, turning them to little more than scrap fabric. He hobbled over to the android and enthusiastically passed her a piece of paper. On it was scribbled various different diagrams of the engine and a title, "can improve, need parts." At the bottom of the page Glargh had written a long list of technical names, components and tools that he would need to make improvements to the engine. "Anything else?" The captain asked.

"Glargh," said Glargh, shaking his head.

Once the android and captain were gone, Glargh quietly slipped from his quarter's, now wearing his trusty utility belt, and limped himself over to the doctor's room. He slid a small note under the door and then moved away. He did the same with Kyo's room.

As he dragged his body to the airlock, the skin on his legs cracked open for what must have been the third time that day. Little droplets of blood fell on the floor behind him, leaving a small trail to the room where the other crew members were assembled.

-

The moment Glargh stepped out of the ship and onto the station, his nose was assaulted by the smell of the ship's fuel. That smell was the reason he hated docking bays so much, and the memories it bought with it caused Glargh to break into a sprint, only causing the re-opened gashes on his legs to open wider, pouring more and more blood onto the ground.

-

It was quiet in the chapel. Glargh had sat in the small church for hours, his mind filled with complex technical images. A thousand new designs came to his head each minute, only to be promptly forgotten the next. Idly, without realising, Glargh had taken to using the small screwdriver on his utility belt to etch these designs into the walls of the Church. Thankfully, nobody was around to see, at least for the moment. Having spent his few hours in peace, he opened his eyes for the first time in what felt like eternity and looked at the wall next to him. In it, he had carved out hypothetical designs for handheld railguns, armor adapted from ship alloys, and at least three different recipes for Macaroni and Cheese. He ran his scarred fingers along the markings, trying to figure out a way to take them with him. Before he had a chance, the chaplain entered from the door behind him and placed a hand on Glargh's shoulder. "It is time for you to leave." And so, without argument, Glargh left.

He stepped outside, noticing a few strangers nearby look away and speak in hushed towns. Glargh tried not to cry as they spoke about the abomination on board the station. Glargh felt as though it was his lucky break when he looked over to see two people actually approaching him, although things took a turn for the worse when one pulled a switchblade from his pants pocket. "I hears you came in on tha' Soaring Sparrow. One piloted by tat 'Merlin' fella or whatsever they call 'im."
"Glargh Blargh?" Asked Glargh Blargh.
"Yous some kind of retard or somethan'?" Said the strange man, approaching Glargh.
Reaching down, Glargh quickly pressed the button to turn on his com-net device.
"You is gonna die just like mah uncle did."
The man lunged Glargh, the disfigured man only barely having the time to move out of the way. The second man was fasting, landing a punch that knocked Glargh back against a nearby wall. He grabbed his plasma torch from his utility belt, igniting the little jet of energy and using it to swing at the armed man. He suffered a burn to his hand, dropping his switchblade to the ground. "YOU'LL PAY FOR THAT" Screamed the man, grabbing Glargh's wrist and twisiting it around. He dropped the small plasma torch and screamed, only emitting a garbled moaning sound. Glargh swung his free hand around and dug disfigured nails into the man's wrist, giving him enough time free to turn and run. "YOU AIN'T GOING NOWHERE!" The two men gave chase.

With his legs already damaged, Glargh didn't stand a chance. He was pushed roughly to the ground. "Glargh Blargh!" He pleaded, trying to put his hands up to defend himself, but his attackers simply kicked around them, each kick forcing more air from Glargh's lungs.

Janet had almost gotten out of the engine bay, when suddenly her foot got caught in something, she flung her arms backwards in an attempt to regain her balance, but failure was ultimately inevitable. She fell hard onto the floor and as if she had suddenly become the villain in a 400 year old cartoon, the pockets of her cargo pants opened and all the tools she usually kept in them, flew out spreading all across the room. She took a moment to catch her breath before slowly turning around to inspect what infernal thing had caused her ungrateful descent. A small metal rod sticking out from under the water pump, had taken hold of her left foot. Janet had noticed the little piece of junk before, but since it wasn't vital or indeed fulfilling any use at all, its removal hadn't been high on the to-do list - up until now. She grabbed the blowtorch that had conveniently landed next to her and commenced to cut it off, while grunting suppressed curses, swearing to personally hammer the nails into the coffin of whoever was responsible, after she first nailed him or her into said coffin.

The doors behind her opened announcing the captains entrance, just as she finished the job. "This place actually looked cleaner when everything was broken. I know I haven't really seen you since you've been aboard, apologies for that. It's been some kind of trip, I'll tell you. How are you liking it here? Everything alright? Any issues? If so, it's a pretty small ship so you'll be able to find me somewhere here, or just yell. And we're going on Harkon soon, so do you want anything bought for you? Our Loadmaster, Certus, he's picking up supplies and was wondering." Janet processed the sheer amount of words thrown her way as she got up from the floor. "I am alright sir. Sorry about the mess, I'll clean it up before I leave. Cestus you said sir?" She tried her best not to show how surprise she was about his sudden appearance. "Yes, you should have gotten a message from him, I suppose you have been busy with... That?" He waved his hand at the water pump. "Oh and loose the sir, no need for such formalities." Cestus, that was it. The man just spared her from an annoying search for that one note. "No can do sir, you're the captain. I just finished some maintenance on the water pump, should not make any trouble for a while." Technically the truth. "Good, nice job. Would be a shame if we all died because of a faulty water pump. Any other problems?" He was joking, but Janet knew the dangers of water in the wiring all too well. "I just checked the systems, everything seems to run smoothly, well at least everything vital is running smoothly, so we won't die today. Unless you get yourself shot sir." Not sure if her little joke worked, Janet started to gather her tools off the floor. "Alright, I'll leave you to it then." the captain said as he left the engine bay.

Once again she nearly made it to the door, after finally gathering all her tools, when she was stopped again. The captain came back, this time in company of the female Android and threw a bunch of wiring and electrical parts onto the ground, declaring they'd die after all. Apparently - Cyl? - had taken the liberty of removing them from the ship, but before Janet could ask any questions, they both left again. Annoyed she picked up the ship components, she would have to tell the android what usually happened to people who messed with her work later. The wires could have been part of nearly anything on the ship, at least she knew they weren't from any primary or vital systems, since those were working fine. It was potentially going to take a while, so she messaged Cestus asking him if he would mind to take over refueling, since she got held up. Janet let out a long sigh, as she started her search for missing wires by starting a diagnostic program on her console.

Two hours later she left the soaring sparrow clean and freshly showered. Someone owed her a drink. She slowly made her way towards the bar they were all supposed to meet up at, since she was in no hurry , she took her time to take it all in. The station was abuzz with people, running around and endlessly talking with each other. Most were human, or at least looked like one, androids were often hard to identify visually, but there were a few aliens too. Two kongi, obviously arguing about whatever one of them was carrying around in a bag, stood nearby. A much bigger Rikari observed them from a nearby bench, he looked hungry. Janet scolded herself, the thought was borderline racist, although she wasn't actually sure what exactly Rikari ate. Deep in her thoughts she got almost run over by Cestus as she turned around the next corner.

The Captain stopped by on the bridge to as if she needed anything. She simply replied the same way she always does. "I'm off duty for the next couple hours Cap, I'll meet up with you later." Captain Perch would know what she meant by that. She was going to visit some unruly characters, although on this station they weren't hard to find. She made her own way off the ship and headed into what at first glance appeared to be a restaurant called the Jade Weevil. In truth the it was a front for an information broker, a Kongi named Ipstrah. Ipstrah wasn't really much of anything to look at and he had a terrible sense of style. He wore purple robes with yellow stripes decorated with silver trim and a hat twice the size of his head with various different feathers. Ipstrah ran a gambling house in the back of his restaurant with poorly lit tables and stacked decks. Kyo hadn't come to gamble, however, and went straight to the back office. She was confronted by two large Rikari, Ipstrah's bodyguards, who attempted to block the door. She called past them to Ipstrah who was preoccupied with a computer terminal. "Ipstrah you twisted monkey get your damn lizards outta my face!" The gaudy Kongi sprung to life as he realized who was at his door. "Kyo my dear, welcome welcome to my humble establishment! Come in, come in." The two guards leered at her as she shoved past them and leaned back in the chair opposite his desk. "Now then, what brings such a... beautiful human female such as yourself to my little corner of the universe, eh?" Kyo reached in her pocket and pulled out a smoke, making Ipstrah nervous, she was purposefully dragging out the conversation letting him sweat a bit. Finally after lighting her cigarette and taking a big long drag she spoke up. "You lied." Ipstrah immediately responded. "No no no! A misunderstanding I assure you!..." Ipstrah made grandiose gestures as he spoke. "...You see I would never be dishonest in my dealings, and most certainly not with such a valuable client. Not me, no, never! Hehe... uh." Kyo took another drag. Without warning she kicked Ipstrah's desk, pinning him between his desk and the back wall of his office. The two Rikari attempted to rush in but were met with a pistol aimed at one of their heads. Kyo's leg held the desk against Ipstrah. "Lucky for you monkey, I'm in a good mood today so I'll give you a chance to redeem yourself. You're gonna give me a report for this sector's outstanding bounties and I'll walk out of here." Ipstrah, looking pained and submissive, gladly agreed. "H-here..." He handed her a chip, which she snatched up and put in her coat pocket. Kyo let off the desk and Ipstrah sighed a relief. "We're even... for now." The two Rikari were itching for a fight but Ipstrah called them off and Kyo walked out of there and back onto the street.

That was her first stop, next was an orphanage near a church. She had never bothered much with religion but the orphanage was run by the Sisters of Merci. Most didn't know but the Sisters of Merci also ran a narcotics smuggling ring which funded most of their goodwill efforts. Their relief efforts were admirable but they were also the same people peddling drugs around the 'verse. The orphanage had it's own chapel where Kyo entered and sat at the second pew one space over from the aisle, waiting. Soon a Nun came and sat next to her. "Mother's mercy be upon you child." Kyo simply replied. "Mercy is a gift we all can share." The Nun made no movement. "Truer words were never spoken. Our offer, if it pleases you and the means to contact us should you wish to accept." She handed a small chip to Kyo and walked off leaving kyo on her own. On the chip would be instructions and payment due for the job if she wanted to take it. Kyo got up and left the orphanage.

That was when she noticed two men chasing someone who looked very familiar. It was the burned man, Rick somethingorother, that couldn't talk due to his injuries. "For fuck's sake..." She muttered to herself and took off running after them. The two were so preoccupied trying to beat up the practically harmless man that they didn't notice her running up behind them. She leaped just before reaching them and sailed knee first into the back of the first idiots head, laying him out cold face down on the floor, very possibly killing him. Kyo wasted no time and caught the other in the head with an elbow sending him staggering back into the wall. As he rebounded off the wall she grabbed him and tossed him over her shoulder and straddled him as he fell onto the floor. A left, a right, over and over again she pounded his face in. The man's face was a bloody mess and still she continued. "You piece of shit!... Again and again. ...Fuck...YOU!" Finally the man passed out, if he even got up later he would need serious medical attention. She lifted herself off of the scumbag's body and walked over to her clearly distressed crew-mate. With bloodied hands she offered to help him up. "Can't you stay outta trouble? Come on let's get out of here."

Andreas had left the ship a short time after the captain did, the human had appeared in the medical lab, asked if what supplies were needed and Andreas gave a short, but exact list of everything he deemed was 'needed' to ensure the best operational standard for the ship. As he exited onto the station, alone, one thing stuck in his mind. How the captain had referred to him as 'his man'. It was a common type of slang used amongst humans which indicated friendship. Andreas was no man, he was an android, and the captain certainly knew that. Perhaps the captain thought of him as a human? Though he displayed so many signs of an android, odd.

His eyes scanned the his new surroundings as he quietly wandered, the sensors which were in essence his 'ears' picking up tidbits of information. Some of it was innocent talk, other that which was obviously illegal business, even some from a human male complaining that his wife wasn't 'giving out', though the android had no idea what that meant. Perhaps she didn't give to charity enough for the man's liking?

Just then he received the message from the captain about an incident, apparently one of the crew had angered some of the station's denizens. Andreas was curious what exactly had happened, and then if any of the vengeance focused locals would be able to figure out if he was a member of the crew. If they did they would surely try to take their rage out on him, or at least question him. That would be troubling. He was not able to lie, if they asked him where the captain was or where the ship was docked then he would have to tell them. It would be best for him to meet up with the others.

Andreas made his way to The Spinning Schooner, avoiding conflict or any other interaction with the people around him. As he approached the tavern he noticed an obviously intoxicated man being escorted out. Alcohol never appealed to him, it did not affect him but it did affect humans and other races. Always in a negative way, slowed reaction time, slurred speech, just some of the issues the substance caused. He disliked that so many were addicted to it, some of the crew drank it and he disapproved.

He carefully entered the tavern, sliding past any of the people in his way. Then he found himself in the bar room, right in front of the bar where one of the bartenders eyed him as Andreas stood silent, recalling where the others were.

"Hey there handsome, why don't I buy you a drink?" A feminine voice said to him, on his left side from a seated position. He turned towards the source, finding it to be a tough looking human girl, short blonde hair, heavy makeup, tattoos on one of her arms, likely quite painful to receive. She had offered to purchase him an alcoholic beverage, why he wondered. Perhaps she wanted to be his friend.

The word 'handsome' meant his appearance pleased her, though he wasn't certain how that connected to friendship. It was more of a signal of romantic interest, which was not something the android was familiar with from experience. He had seen it before occur in organics, though many parts of it confused him. Why would a human female make a gesture of romance towards him, he was incompatible with her. Reproduction between the two was impossible.

"Hello." Andreas replied with a smile. The woman returned the smile before she spoke as the android noticed her state, she was intoxicated, a glass of aged whiskey in front of her, also a hand held firearm on her belt. Alcohol and firearms did not mix, incidents had occurred in the past when the two were mixed.

"Have a seat, I'll get a drink for you." She replied, signaling for the bartender's attention.

"That is not necessary, I do not drink alcoholic beverages." Andreas said as he sat down next to her. Just then he felt a hand on his shoulder, a strong firm one which belonged to a large human male.

"Just what do you think you're doing, pal? That's my girlfriend, and my seat. Why don't you move before I make you?" The man said to Andreas, his tone unfriendly. The usage of the pal a sarcastic use. A threat of physical confrontation was also spoken by him. All because Andreas had sat next to the man's lover.

"There is no need to resort to violence. Medical expenses on this station would be extreme for any with severe injuries caused by violence." Andreas replied, as he turned towards the man.

"What the hell does that mean? What are you, one of the fucking robots?"

"An android to be precise, robot is a crude term. Used more accurately for early, primitive labor units. I am the third generation model of Synthetic Avenue's mark II android, designed to appear completely human-like in more ways than just physical appearance." Andreas said, the man did ask him if he was a synthetic.

"What the fuck does that mean. Tony, I thought you didn't let robots into your bar." The man said to one of the bartenders.

"Only if they are with actual people." The bartender pitched in as he cleaned a glass with a rag.

"Well he just wandered in here by himself and started talking to my girl."

"That is incorrect sir, I am here on business with the members of my crew. Your lover offered me a drink, I simply continued friendly conversation with her." Andreas said, correcting the man.

"Then go sit with your damn crew, circuit-brain." The bartender said.

"As you wish," Andreas replied with a nod, then nodded at both the intoxicated woman and the man. "A pleasure to make both of your acquaintances."

He then rose out of his seat and found two members of his crew at the corner booth. His fellow android and the captain. They were in close proximity as Cyl shed tears. It was a confusing sight to Andreas. Other androids were capable of producing human like tears, he just had not seen it before and was unsure why she was doing it.

"Why is Cyl crying, captain?" Andreas asked as he took a seat in the booth.

Cestus regretted his choice of job. He had been the first to leave the ship and wasted no time in the seemingly eternal pursuit of items the rest of the crew had asked for. Starting with the most complicated requests and making his way down from there.

The bustling space port was crammed with traders, naval crewmen, all sorts of cargo, helping mechs and androids. If one didn’t know his destination getting lost in the crowds was easy. He finished the medic and engineering demands rather quickly as they had asked for a lot of commonly sold objects but having to hire a helping droid to carry what could not be sent directly to the ship bothered him enough to question his role as it made him feel like a simple errand boy.

After finishing all the crews’ demands he went to his usual food supplier for the bottle his captain had asked for and all the supplies he needed for the kitchen. Cestus’ supplier was a broad man named Robian that kept every kind of food in existence on his massive ship which people usually flooded as anyone who knew a thing about food quality knew he was the man to contact.

He made his way through the crowds thronging the quay. Crew and happy customers were flooding off the ship, being quickly replaced by another wave of anxious buyers. There were the slipway crews, the excise men in their bicorn hats, the inspectors from the Interior Guard, medium class chefs, high class chefs, second hand suppliers, lowly vendors, hucksters offering guided tours of the so well-known ship, and commercial men and private citizens, who had come up to the station to greet and buy from the ship.

Cestus shoved his way through the bustle. He could smell armpits and foul breath, the garlic sweat of meat patties on a stove cart who was showing off his recently bought tropical Mangein meat, the burnt sugar of a candy vendor who was also eager to sell what he bought, the ozone coming in off the pier’s atmospheric pressure fields and, behind all other odors, the oddly soapy, rancid fug that hung upon a slipway when a ship exhaled the recycled air that had been wheezing through its oxygen scrubbers for eight months.

Robian’s men chugged past him, hauling trains of crates. A tug boat whickered by overhead, its running lights flashing. The Market, as the ship was called was a juggernaut of pitted rust and seared void plating, sitting up tall in the slip always reserved for it. Service crews always at work, scaling her carbonized flanks like mountaineers on a rockface.

To a regular person it would take hours to get inside the Market and thrice the time to pay and get out but to a well-connected or very regular customer it was just giving a worker a list with what you wanted, the weeks’ passcode, some money and the crates of precious wears would appear on your cargo hold a few hours later like if it was a magic act personally sent and reviewed by the giant and good hearted Robian.

Cestus gave his order to a servitor with a smile “Passcode sir?” the man asked. “XR7M521,” Cestus responded. The servitor watched him wide eyed as he recognized the first priority free order, just sent to Robian’s family. The small man bowed and went on his way, running as fast as he could.

Cestus was proud of being in such a prestigious position on the (literal) food chain. He had earned Robian’s respect and friendship when he was still a slave one day cooking in a diplomatic event his master was hosting. His master had hired Robian to cook for the event and had put all his slaves to assist him. It was then when Cestus amazed the chef so much he even tried to buy his freedom so he could come and work with him. Cestus refused so Robian promised that if he ever gained his freedom he would help him in any way he could, this free supply of food was the result of that.

Thankfully this fact was unknown to the captain and the Loadmaster could gamble away his captain’s money. As he traversed the station towards the largest casino it housed, Cestus' thoughts couldn’t help but deviate towards the rest of the crew.

First he thought of the artificial, he was unsure what to think of them as the only ones he had ever interacted with were combat droids he used to train and pulverize. Then he thought about the burnt fellow, he was kind hearted and was always thankful of the food he served. Speaking of appreciation of cuisine was their captain, always cheerful, elegant, and respectful the man was a true leader and Cestus would gladly follow him anywhere.

As for the other humans Cestus felt a weird attraction to both of them. Kyo he found beautiful but in a crazy scared of her toughness way. As for Janet despite the burned face and her strictness he found her very attractive sadly he hadn’t had time to speak to her but certainly would love to get to meet her.

It was a short journey from The Market to the dock where the imposing casino was located on. A narrow promenade, lined with ferns and intricate statuettes, quickly gave way to a wide plaza with multiple exits. The cook, who was deep in thought, took the western fork that would eventually lead him to the dock.

Turning a corner, Cestus was hit square in the chest. The impact, though surprising, moved the man not at all. He stared down at what had struck him. The large man was surprised when he saw it was Janet herself. Destiny has an odd way of working, he thought as he apologized and greeted her. Seems I’ll need to pocket these credits and postpone my visit to the tables, Cestus concluded as he made small talk with the woman, tying his best to not show so much his obvious attraction towards her as he moved the subject of conversation towards the rest of the crew and the fuel he had just bought for her.

They had been talking for a while when they received the Captain’s warning. Cestus’ first reaction was to look around as he turned off the safety of the gun he carried around. Cestus had been trying his best to keep the small talk fluid and interesting as to not seem dull but he wasn’t sure at how to hint at what he truly wanted so he saw fit to end it and try later after researching on the basics of courting.

“The captain sounds serious. I think it’s better if we head over to the bar right now and avoid any unnecessary trouble,” he said as he rose from the bench the two were talking in and offered her a hand. It was then when he noticed the five men approaching them, knives visible.

Before the would be attackers or even Janet could react Cestus had already pulled out his gun and emptied his mag on two of them. Their bodies hadn’t touched the ground when the large man charged at the others.

He lunged at the nearest one and quickly knocked him down. The thug, half-conscious due to the brutality of the impact the massive bulk had caused, crawled on his belly in a vain attempt to get clear of the ebullient cook.
“We’re not done yet, fool,” Cestus said, clamping his massive fist around the attacker’s ankle and swinging him across the air to smash into one of his friends. The man quickly took off his companion and with his knife lost because of the collision bare handedly attacked.
Cestus ducked the clumsy two-armed bear hug aimed at him and used the man’s momentum to trip the goon hard onto his back. As expected he lost consciousness when he came crashing against the ground.

The last one had been smart to wait as he lunged with his knife at the cook’s exposed back and tried to bury the blade into the seasoned fighter’s rear but Cestus was ready and merely sidestepped, allowing the man to stab at the air, before delivering a punishing uppercut into his cheek and subsequent hammering elbow into his head, crushing the man’s skull.

The fight took only two minutes. “I don’t know who our beloved captain pissed off but they are pretty serious,” he told Janet as he showed her one of the obvious professional looking blades the men had tried to use. He began to think about how to reach the bar as fast as possible while he loaded his gun when he remembered death squads worked in sixes and there were only five bodies on the floor.

Realizing what that meant too late to save both of them he ran towards a confused Janet and pushed her out of the way as a high caliber shot grazed his arm. Bleeding badly from the wound he somehow managed to fire back and kill the man hiding nearby.

“Captain we were attacked by pros, what the hell did you do?” he cried onto the communications device. “I think those were the last of them but I can’t be sure. We’ll meet you at the bar but you have a lot explaining to do,” he checked his bruised arm and saw the wound had already infected. Shit they must have dipped the bullet in some kind of paralyzer or poison, he thought as his lights were going out.

“Janet, please pour the Kongi Whiskey I bought for the Captain into my wound and take me to the doctor at the bar if it isn’t too much of a problem,” the herculean man managed to say before collapsing.

Janet hadn't expected to - literally - run into Cestus and neither did she expect to get into a fight. But the day had turned into one full of surprises. After she had apologized to the brute man, whose scares were only outdone by Glargh Blargh, as Cestus insisted to call him, he started to show a keen interest in talking with her. Mostly small talk, but she was nonetheless glad to finally converse with him for a bit, since it would make it less awkward to work with him in the future. She once spent three months on a vessel without talking to its loadmaster, when she finally managed to meet him he just stared at her as if she had declared war on his gigantic nose.

Suddenly they had both gotten a message from their captain, who somehow had managed to get himself into trouble by selling nickel. Serious trouble, then as she was still wondering how "Merlin" could have managed such a feat, Cestus suddenly emptied his gun into two thugs and ran straight at the other three. Janet jumped up and was about to follow him, but realized quickly that she needn't bother as the cook took them out without trouble, a possible hint to the origins of all his scars. Janet made a mental note to ask him about them sometimes, as well as his impressive hand-to-hand skills. The fight made in fact for quite a show and she was sure some people would pay good money to spectate.

"I don't know who our beloved captain pissed off but they are pretty serious." He handed her a knife. A well made knife, which she decided to keep, since she was unarmed at the moment, plus she once heard that you couldn't posses too many knives. All of a sudden she was abruptly lying on the floor, the second time this day and her ears rang from gun fire. When she got up and noticed the worsening condition the big man was in, she felt bad for a moment. He had to save her life, because she was just standing there, busy getting shot at. But there was no time like the present to repay her debt. Following the, hopefully not last, wish of her comrade Janet grabbed the bottle of liquor and poured it into his wound. Then she took her newly acquired knife and cut off a good piece of her tank top, the only clean one she had left. She quickly improvised a bandage which she covered in the rest of the alcohol. As she took the cloth and bandaged his wound, she noticed a rikari who idly stood by closely, just starring at her while everyone else had fled. "Hey Cobra Commander, how about you move your scaly ass over here and help me carry my friend here to a fucking doctor?" She wasn't sure the big lizard understood her, but he actually came closer and lent her a hand. After she made sure the reptile had hold of Cestus she turned back and grabbed his gun of the floor, when she stood up she noticed that she was covered in blood. There went her last set of clean clothes. "Come on, let's get him to the bar before someone bothers to come looking. Oh and thanks, I know someone who owes the three of us a drink." The Rikari just nodded.

.

Regardless of how Rick felt about the situation, Kyo knew they really shouldn't stick around for more people to show up. She lead the burned man to the bar that was to be their rendevouz. It was much like many other bars she had found herself in, the stench of alcohol and tobacco, patrons being rowdy, card sharks looking for easy marks, all of it reminded her of simpler times. Back then she didn't really have any obligations, just blowing through her pension, getting drunk and occasionally getting into bar fights for fun. Today was different though as her captain had managed to get them all into trouble, as was evident by their cook/loadmaster Cestus sitting injured at the table.

She motioned for Rick to sit down and addressed everyone. "Well Cap, whatever you did pissed somebody off. Anyway I've got a few jobs lined up that we can handle. The most fun are some bounties; the first is a guy, goes by the handle 'Eddy the Butcher', looks like he's holed up somewhere on the western continent of the planet below, Praxis. His real name is Edmund Strickland, age 42, he's got a rapsheet the size of my arm and an army of goons babysitting his hideout. There are others but that one's the closest. Next is a little charity work for the Sisters of Merci." Kyo pulled out a chit and wavexd it enticingly. "We'll get the specifics if and when we accept but bottom line, it's a smuggling gig. Hauling cargo, legal or not, is usually pretty boring but if I know the Sisters this one'll be interesting." She replaced the chit in her pocket and lit up a smoke. "Well, that's what I've got. I'd personally prefer bashing some heads but honestly the Sisters pay a lot more and we'd only be doing one job."


Meanwhile, in another sector of space. A pristine, gold painted vessel drifted lazily in orbit of a civilized planet. On board was a full compliment of crew in matching jumpsuits with an insignia that read 'Einhowser Corporation'. On the bridge of that vessel sat Jacob Einhowser with his sister Juliet Einhowser in his lap. The Comms officer spoke up to relay a message. "Um... Sir you ought to read this..." Jacob perked up as Juliet tried to relax and snuggle up to her brother. "Well, just spit it out already." The comms officer was quiet for a moment. "Well Sir... it seems that um... your father has been killed on Harkon Station." Jacob sprang up tossing Juliet on the floor of the bridge. "What!? Who did this? I want them dead!" The comms officer flinched at the young man's tone. "Apparently it was a deal gone wrong with someone by the name of Perch, a Captain of a privateer vessel." Juliet finally righted herself and hung on to her brother. "He killed Daddy, that bastard. Plot a course to Harkon Station, now!" The bridge crew hastily complied with the siblings orders. Jacob took hold of Juliet once more and looked deeply into her eyes. "We'll avenge our father, dearest sister. I promise, I'll kill Captain Perch if it's the last thing I do." Juliet felt weak at the knees. "Oh brother, let's do it. Let's kill that bastard for Daddy." The gold ship rocketed out of orbit towards the local warp gate. They were soon on their way to intercept Captain Perch and his motly crew.

Janet entered the bar, closely followed by her new acquaintance who was carrying the still unconscious Cestus. His wound had stopped bleeding, hopefully meaning that her improvised bandage worked, but he was clearly still in need of medical attention. It didn't take more than a quick glance across the room to identify the table her captain and a few of her crewmates had hijacked. The female android, Cyl, if her memory served right, was obviously crying, the reason for which Janet could only guess sat next to her. The captain had so far not done much to impress - at least not in a positive way. Impressive was only how he had managed to get himself, and probably everyone else, into trouble that quickly and just by selling Nickel, a task usually as mundane as watching an amateur snail race. Yet he seemed genuinely sorry or concerned enough to do his best to cheer up Cyl - well he tried at least. Right across them stood Andreas by the table with a, what she interpreted as, puzzled look on his face. Janet pointed at him: "This is the android we are looking for." The big rikari followed her to the table. "Sorry to interrupt Doc, but Cestus really needs your help." The rikari carefully placed Cestus on a chair. "Sir, we were attacked, but Cestus took them out and caught a bullet in the process. I am pretty certain they came after us because of whatever you did, no offense sir. Now you'll need to excuse me for a moment, I promised my new friend here a drink." She nodded towards the still crying android, "Cyl" and turned away to go to the bar.

"One beer, whatever this fine reptilian gentleman wants and the drink you would give a man you owe your life to. Oh and make that one a double." The bartender stared at her for a moment before he turned to the rikari to take his order. "The usual?", he asked. He got a short nod as an answer, after which he went away to get the drinks. Finally Janet felt somewhat relieved, Cestus was in good hands and about to get the best drink on this damned station. He had saved her life without even really knowing her, which spoke volumes abut his character, but Janet was not really sure how to feel about it. She had managed to report to her captain, without riddling her sentences with curses, although she would have felt better otherwise. "Thank you." she said to the rikari. "It was nice of you to help us out, evidently not everyone would have done the same, or anyone else for that matter." The snake-like creature just smiled at her, in a predatory kind of way. The bartender returned with the drinks. One beer, one double bronze-honey colored liquor and a tall glass filled with green liquid and some junky bits. Luckily he gave the green one to the rikari. "Thanks, the guy with the jacket will pay for them." She almost felt bad, as she pointed at her captain, but he had made her a promise and the other two had earned it. "It was a real joy to meet you. I suppose we won't see each other any time soon again. Enjoy your drink and thanks again." She gave the rikari her hand, which he shook after looking at it for a second, still smiling.

She returned to the table just in time to catch the first mates last statements. She placed Cestus' drink in front of him, gave Glargh, who looked a bit shaken, a greeting nod and sat down, sipping on her beer. When no one seemed to eager to speak up first, Janet decided to pick first: "Either way we'll probably get shot at and I'd rather not get into trouble with the authorities too, so I guess I'd choose the bounty. Although I could go either way, if the rest would rather avoid fire for a while." She looked at Cestus and Andreas: "Speaking of which, how is he doing, Doc?"

Glargh stood from the bar, shaking his head at the concept of fighting bounties. "Sm-sm-smugg-smuggle." He managed to choke out, barely able to speak. He placed his scarred fingers to his neck, feeling a slight bleeding start. He pushed himself up from the bar and supported himself against the wall of the building. Shuffling his feet, he slowly moved away from the crew, back towards the Soaring Sparrow. He reached the docking bay and gingerly entered the ship, happy to be away from the madness of the bar. He bought himself down on his bed, gripping his chest tightly. He could feel a horrific pain, as if his chest was on fire. He coughed, blood bought onto his pillow.