Making his way down the ramp, Evin ran a hand along the metal of the exit ramp. It was still warm from re-entry. It was also pocked by micro-meteor impacts as it traveled through the spacelanes. His ship - for how long if he didn't make a decent payday, and soon? - was looking its age.
"You an' me both, girl." He patted the metal.
"We'll see if we can't get you a paint job," he told the ship. Then mumbled,
"At least one of us might as well look decent."
He turned his attention from the vessel as he walked down the ramp.
Rifa.
His last visit to Rifa had resulted in a running three-way battle through the streets. He and a temporary partner had been making a get-away from Uvo Pol's enforcers who were, in turn, being chased by CIS droids. And the droids hadn't been terribly concerned with avoiding collateral damage. Then again, neither had Uvo's people. Or Evin and his partner. Although on Evin's part, at least, it had ben more unintentional than anything else - his skill with a blaster was... questionable. And that was being generous.
As he stepped onto the landing platform of the spaceport a squat humanoid wearing the slate grey of an Imperial bureaucrat hurried toward him. In Cade's experience there were three kinds of Imperials: the kind that took their jobs too seriously, the kind that got a kick out of being cruel to those with less power, and the kind that used it to make themselves wealthy. Spaceport administrators generally fell into the latter category, thankfully.
"Captain." He offered the man a greeting as he neared.
"Mr," the humanoid looked down,
"Cade? Greetings. Welcome to Rifa. Your paperwork is in order. And your docking fees...?"
Removing credits from his pocket, he held them out to the captain.
"All here. Also," he offered a half-grin,
"a security deposit." The phrase sounded so much better than 'bribe.'
"Of course, Mr. Cade." The Imperial slid the credits into holders - two separate holders, Evin noticed.
"The Empire will ensure your vessel doesn't suffer any mishaps while docked in the city of Rifa. Thank you for visiting. And pleasant visit." He offered a saccharine smile then turned on his heel and marched toward another vessel that was making its approach to the spaceport.
Cade couldn't help but be amused at the wording.
The Empire will ensure your vessel doesn't suffer any mishaps. He wondered if the captain had pulled that directly from a criminal holo-board or if the similarity to the strong-arm tactics of the Galaxy's numerous criminal syndicates was purely accidental.
Rifa, he thought,
the Empire's Premier Protection Racket.
He might have thought more on it but a speeder-bike's sudden appearance on the spaceport tarmac caught his attention. His hand dropped to the handle of his blaster pistol. Not that he was terribly worried. He been on Rifa long enough to annoy anyone to his knowledge, and his last visit had been years prior so anyone likely to want him dead was either dead themselves or had forgotten their anger. But it never hurt to be cautious.
OOC: Just FYI. http://d6holocron.com/wiki/ind...amic-class_Freighter