[Zasz Fenris]
- A Rough Landing -
'Those jackoffs sure took a toll on this aged junker, but it's a hard to put an old dog down without a fight.' At the thought, Zasz couldn't help but let out a deep chuckle from under that helmet of his. Truth be told though, he had a bit of a worried frown on his face; he hated situations like this, and he seemed to find himself in them more and more as of late. Still, he was surprised that this retrofitted scavenger ship had managed to keep itself in one piece. In saying that like a curse from the machine gods, the first of the dual thrusters that propelled his vessel gave a groan of stressed metal and explosive exhaust before tearing away from the hull and falling off in the darkness behind him. Alright, so mostly one piece. All that mattered was that it kept intact enough to maintain a vacuum and keep the slaver from being sucked out into the void. Just a little further towards the closest station, he could dock at after his haphazard jump through space.
Farport.
The station designator blinked garishly with their custom font on the navigation system display. How could he not have heard of it, perhaps lady luck smiled down on him after all in sending him this way? This time he made sure to knock his plated knuckles against the nearly fried console he was managing, just in case. The autopilot had long since shut itself down to preserve power for more vital systems, which in turn were also clicking off in like an old man struggling for that last breath. Hell, the comm line wasn't even functioning as he had to patch the ship's ID through his suit and boost the signal with what he little power he could pull without shutting off the sublight engines.
"Delta Bravo Delta six one four one zero eight eight, Screaming Devil looking to dock. Might I suggest being quick about it, I'm coming in one way or the other with the shape my ship is in right now."
Zasz did, in fact, receive a hasty response.
"Screaming Devil, from our scanners, it appears your craft is barely holding together. If you're able to make it to dock 7-C without it seeming like you're going to crash into the station, you're more than welcome. If not, we're going to have to shoot you down to prevent any damage."
Then the click from the mic and a silent grin from Zasz. Who did they think he was? He didn't plan on dying in such a pitiful manner. At least they were giving him the chance, and to credit this the slaver merely figured he'd cashed in about all of his chips to make it this far. Hands working the console again with much haste he carefully adjusted engine output and made precise corrections in thrust direction to line himself up with the docking gate. Zasz had been flying across the stars for nearly the better half of his life, and he'd made far worse landings than this. Calculations as correct as he could assume them to be, he pressed one last button and the sole remaining engine silenced itself into inactivity. Letting inertia take it from here, the minutes passed as slow as the ice forming inside the eerily creaking hull.
With baited breath, Zasz nailed the docking. He watched as the clamps readied to accept the busted husk. Slowly but surely, his vessel finally came to a halt with somewhat of a lurch as the station struggled to hold the ship in place. Sliding his hands across the various panels, what remaining systems went offline, life support included. His suit, however, was airtight and came with its own brief supply of oxygen. It wasn't a large by any means, the Screaming Devil that is, taking the Taldarian but a few steps to make it to the doors after getting out of the pilot's seat. With everything shut down, he needed to pull down on the lever by the exit to force the metal entrance apart. That was that, goodbye to the old dog. It probably wouldn't be here when he returned, as he planned to put it up for scrap auction immediately. Much better to be out of that cramped deathtrap and somewhere that didn't sound like it was about to crumble out from under his feet. Still, he wasn't off the hook yet.
"Passport and ship credentials."
Head turned to the male beside him. At the checkpoint, Zasz let out a quiet sigh, these formalities were the same nearly in every port of call, but they were a hassle and a waste of time all the same for the slaver. A single hand rummaged around through his coat for a small electronic screen which displayed a picture and name that clearly wasn't the man standing before the dock official. In his defense, Zasz did own the ship, he just appropriated it without filing the necessary paperwork as paper trails were a silent killer in the underground. "Look, the day has been unkind to me, and I think we both could benefit from this being a smooth as possible process" From under that passport, the slaver deftly brought a credit chip into the officer's vision with a number displayed that could make even a high-class escort blush. Now, he hadn't been here for some time, but Farport was never known for its pristine law and order, and while occasionally bribes outright failed the masked man, this would not be the case. Accepting the credits, Zasz passed by without another holdup, stuffing the fake credentials into his coat for safekeeping. Now the bribe had not been unsubstantial, but this sector was a breeding ground for an opportunity in his line of work. He had no doubt about it, he could make it in full and more so.
Realistically, Zasz was in no hurry nor did he have any schedule to keep. Few knew his face as he was one of many individuals with full body suits when he had a constantly shifting voice modulator there were next to no consistent records left behind. With more falsified documents than he could count and a line of credit that would take serious dedication to lead to his actual name, he worried not about where his path took him. Whoever he happened to come across would be worth it in the end, he never went after a useless mark. The docks were not where he desired to be though, so the tall Taldarian with heavy steps made his way towards the market district of which likely held more interest in him than any other area. Along the streets and side corridors Zasz made his way, each face he passed would be marked and run through his personal algorithm to give a general idea of the kind of price the people he came into contact might be worth to him on the market. Ultimately, it provided a rough estimate rather than the end all be all, but it pushed him in the right direction. Such a tool also was of no use against someone like himself, when features were indiscernible. Purse Street, aptly named, shops aplenty and ware ranging from junk to priceless; one merely needed to know where to stick their head and be careful about how they went about it. Too many years had passed since he walked these artificial streets, for good reasons, but such were minor details that didn't need to be discussed here and now.
Disappointment filled the slaver, how could there not possibly be anyone of interest. Hell, he'd have to collar a dozen people off the street just to make back half of what he'd paid in the bribe. Even the brawl he passed several clicks back held nothing for him. The beast far too large for him to adequately restrain and the others involved coming up as above average at best. Getting ready to up and head off to another, more promising district a reading came out on his HUD that stopped him in his tracks cold.
No data
Taking a step back, Zasz peered through the glass window where the marked target stood in full view. Such a tiny creature, unique in every sense of the word and more. Like the flowers surrounding her, she was beautiful yet fragile, in bending the stem of one of the plants she'd too would snap in two. Shutting down his program, he decided on a potential sell. Thus he entered the place of business, Tranquility Floral Arrangements. Needing to bend down slightly to fit through the entrance, he took to walking around examining her specimens on display; whatever commotion he interrupted was paid little mind. Zasz lacked personal understanding of the variety, only what information his database pulled from the net. Reaching out, he brushed his hand against the leaves of one of the larger potted shrubs. Rustling them more than he expected, the man quickly pulled back and got on with the show. "You sell plants?" His question seemed had to have been ridiculous to the owner. Of course she did, it was plain as day. Still, the surprise had to have been common, or perhaps he really had been away from the station for quite some time. "I must say in the times I've visited I have never heard of such a place. I just had to come in and see it for myself when I passed by." It was hard to tell where Zasz had his attention directed, but under the helmet his eyes were trained solely on the Nymph. He made no motion to move closer, in fact he held his hands firmly behind his back. "In this, I must admit that I'm a bit flustered. I came in out of interest, yet I have not a clue to what I'm doing."
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