Drop Site
As the ship came down, kicking up a dust cloud in the process, Srath spotted someone he recognized. Mar'Krul stood to the back of the group, Srath smiled slightly, he was here one shipment earlier than usual. The ship bounced lightly as it landed, unbuckling himself he made his way to the rear of the ship once more, stopping in his quarters to retrieve his weapon from its locked case. Slapping a fresh battery into it he dropped the weighty weapon into the holster strapped to his leg. While there he pulled a small box from his desk, he could hear the liquid sloshing against the glass bottle inside. "I really don't know how you can drink this stuff."
Once in the cargo bay he lowered the ramp to the outside, the box held in his large, clawed hand. They didn't waste any time moving to grab the crates, always looking more than a little uncomfortable when they entered his ship. Srath could never tell what made them more uncomfortable, being in the ship or seeing him. He wasn't new to the concept, he'd been the only Rothian on his adoptive parent world, and children can be cruel. He shook his head clear, old memories had a way of taking root if you let them linger. Bringing up a smile he made his way down the ramp to his acquaintance. "Mar'Krul." He greeted the large man with open arms and a sharp and toothy smile.
"Srath'Thane." He responded with a similarly wide smile, reaching toward Srath with his large arm as he approached. Srath grasped his hand in return. "I was beginning to worry you'd never show."
"Well you know," He held up the box in his other hand. "Couldn't leave without this."
Mar'Kruls eyes widened as he saw the box. "How many of these do you have?" He took the box gingerly. "Every time you leave I fear it will be the last bottle you bring."
"I've told you before, two-dozen cases off-world but it's hard to move. That stuff is illegal on most worlds."
Mar'Krul gave a grumble and nodded. "Though I admit my presence is not for the reasons you assume." He reached for a bag he'd set on the ground, throwing a metallic object to Srath.
Catching it, he knew what it was before even looking at it. "A Cp-4?" He looked between the gun and Mar'Krul, a sour expression replacing the smile from earlier. "What the hell are you doing with a gun?"
Mar'Krul spat on the ground. "Some half fish man. He came at the request of traitors."
"Fish man? A Bast'ian." Srath paused as a he got that little rush when he found a lead on a bounty. "Did he have a scar? A long one along the back of his head?" Srath gestured with his figure, tracing along the back of his head.
"You know of him?"
"Yes, Braka, I ran into him a while back, he got away. How long has he been here?"
"A day. He was hiding in the tavern last I saw. Says the heat doesn't agree with him." He smirked.
Sraths mouth spread into a smile once again. Srath slapped Mar'Krul on the shoulder. "Next time I come back I'll bring you a case."
Srath ran into his ship, grabbing his restraints from his quarters. "Got you now."
Brax'Na Tavern
Srath entered through the door of the low wooden building, stopping to let his eyes adjust from the bright sun. It always amazed him that no matter where you went in the galaxy, dives always smelled the same. He spotted the Bast'ian sitting at the bar, the scar running from the frill at the top of his head to the base of his scull. Srath looked around the room as he approached the bar, it was early afternoon so there weren't many in the tavern. Seven in total, five at one table that had been drinking for quite some time, two sat in the far corner talking quietly.
Srath pulled a stool from the bar, letting it scrape along the floor before sitting beside him. He could see Braka stiffen as he sat, still towering over him even sitting. "If I didn't know better, I'd think you were the dumbest gun runner in the sector." He looked straight at Braka, his skin color had paled, he was afraid. "I mean selling energy weapons to technophobes."
He reached for something on his belt, trying to be quick. Srath grabbed the back of his head, smashing him into the bar several times. He jerked him to the side and grabbed what Braka was reaching for, he pulled the weapon from his belt. "A Cp-4." Srath shoved the weapon into the back of his belt. "You know these things are crap right?" The Bast'ians head lolled to the side, letting out a small groan of pain. "You know I'm starting to think you are the worst gun runner in the sector."
He heard movement from the far corner of the room. He bent his head around to see the two that had been sitting in the corner were now making their way to him, one moving between him and the door. "Well, see you got yourself some local muscle." Braka let out a moaning gurgle, blood running from the corner of his mouth. "Well said. Don't move." He threw the nearly unconscious Bast'ian to the bar floor, the half drunk group of five was watching intently expecting a fight.
The two were holding off, one in front and the other off to his right, waiting to close in together. "Okay." Srath raised his fists and widened his stance, claws digging into he floor. He subtly grabbed the stool behind him with his tail. "Lets do this."
They charged, Srath spun his body whipping the stool at the one blocking the door, it crashed into him and he fell hard. The second came in with a heavy right hook, Srath stepped into the blow, catching it under his left arm and pinning it. Not giving him time to adjust Srath slammed blows into his head keeping him dazed. He shifted his hold to slam him into the bar as hard as he could, there was a dull thud from his head and a sharp crack from the bar as it buckled. The thug fell to the floor completely limp.
The first one had recovered however and crashed into Srath from the side, pinning him to the bar and grabbing him in a bear-hug. Srath hissed as he strained against his hold but the bastard was stronger than he looked, only managing to shift him to his front. He tried pushing against that large man but he was lifted from the ground slightly, keeping his clawed feet from getting a hold on the ground. Srath felt his spine crack as he started squeezing harder. "Ah," He sighed in genuine relief. But it cost him, he couldn't draw in a breath. He vaguely noticed that the group at the table were booing, apparently they thought he wasn't fighting fair.
'Well if we're playing dirty.' He thought as his lungs were starting to burn from the lack of air. He angled his head down slightly, looking into the face of this python of a man, his face was red from the strain of trying to crush him. Srath saw confusion flash across his face before it was replaced by horror, evidently discerning Sraths plan just before he implemented it. Srath snapped his head forward, rotating his head sideways and opening is mouth in one fluid motion before clamping down on the attackers head, mouth filling with the taste of blood and sweat. Though it nauseated Srath it had the desired effect on the victim, he shouted in fear and let go of Srath, trying to pry his mouth from his head.
Srath released him, immediately kicking him away and gasping for air. "That." He spit blood on the floor, trying to expel the taste. "Was not cool." He looked at Srath in disbelief, blood running from the puncture wounds along his head. "Well you started it." He ran back in, trying to tackle Srath, but having had to bite someones face he'd decided that the day had been going on long enough. He sidestepped the charge drawing his weapon and firing from his hip into his side. His charge ran him into the ground as arching blue energy locked up his muscles, spasming on the ground for a few seconds before falling unconscious. The group had stopped booing and had resigned to grumbling in dissatisfaction.
Srath eyed them for a moment, wiping some blood from his chin, before looking for Braka. He'd tried to crawl away during the fight but had only made it a few feet. "Leaving already?" Srath grabbed him by his leg, dragging him to the door. He tried to grab for tables and chairs but he was still very disoriented from Srath slamming his head into the bar.
Once outside Srath picked the bleeding Bast'ian up, placing him on his feet, he swayed but Srath held him upright with one hand. "You need to tell me where your ship is."
Valley
Srath pulled in the now deactivated decoy as the autopilot on Brakas ship landed it in the valley, the sun framing the ship as it dropped below the horizon. Hopefully Craig was going to bed helpful and not look to closely at the flight log. He placed the decoy back in its hiding spot under the cargo bays deck plating. Once secured he checked on Braka in his cell. It sat in the corner of the bay, its walls having descended from the ceiling at the push of a few buttons.
"Comfy?"
Braka was hunched over the toilet that had risen from the floor. "Do you always fly drunk or is this a special occasion?" He slurred.
Srath was already on his way back tot he bridge though, taking off from the valley to the tower. Once he was a few kilometers out he hailed the tower. "Tower control this is N-16c requesting permission for landing."
A far more energetic voice answered his return. "Affirmative N-16c, what is your purpose for docking?"
"Refueling and delivery of a class 2 bounty. One Braka Sol. Please contact security and have them ready to take him into custody."
"Uh, okay." He sounded a little nervous and paused for a minute. "Okay, you are authorized for docking in bay twelve. Security should be there when you arrive."
"Roger that tower." The tower was coming into view, the HUD on the console highlighting the hanger he'd left earlier that day. Once in range the autopilot took over the landing in the hangar. As the ship landed alarms began sounding in the bridge, the display showed the intake on the underside of the ship, a 'Foreign Object' warning flashing on the screen. "You have got to be KIDDING ME!"
