Post by Mara on Aug 5, 2011 17:34:39 GMT -5
(((I finally posted! 
Sorry for the length; I got carried away.)))
[…from the Smuggler Contingency]
Another day, another few thousand credits. That’s what was passing through Pak Har’endanno’s mind as he stood in his allocated docking bay in Anchorhead, Tatooine. He thought it a bit odd that after spending so much time running cargo and passengers throughout this side of the Outer Rim that it was his first visit to the planet. And now he could see why. From his bay slot on the outer edge of the small spaceport, all he saw was desolation. Yes, there were buildings and settlements; Anchorhead was a fairly populated area. But even those looked drab, sad. Not to mention all the blasted sand that kept blowing up out of nowhere just when he was trying to find a good place to grab a drink.
So while he had waited for a more opportune time to venture out, he had stayed inside the Crimson Requiem, double-counting his credit payments and doing a thorough search of its compartments for any hidden, forgotten bottles of liquor. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust his latest ‘client.’ The Balosar just had a habit of counting his money to make sure how much he had, how much could be scrimped into any repairs needed on his ship, how much he could save for a blasted sandstorm day. How much could be spared to buy a new supply of his beloved alcohol or even the coveted deathsticks he had been hankering for lately.
While the delegating of his credits had gone well, the search of his ship’s crevices and crannies had been quite the opposite. After he had hidden away his stash of money away in his cabin, he had gone through every passage and room, including the refresher, looking for any place he might have left a bottle of sweet liquid. But every place he looked revealed either nothing or just empty bottles. They were everywhere: his cabin, the galley, the common areas, the cockpit, and yes, even one he found in the steam shower in the ‘fresher. Any being besides Pak would have thought that particular location strange.
Without anything to do then but wait out the storm and see if he could pick up another job, Pak was standing there in the docking bay, pausing to check the weather. Pausing in mid-chuck with a bag of empties one of his hands. He hadn’t anything better to do than try to clean up his ship a bit. And he wasn’t about to attempt any repairs on his ship, though there were a few nicks in the red paint job. He thought it gave the Requiem character, at least for the present moment. Plus, he was just lazy and didn’t want to waste the credits unless a real repair was needed. It wasn’t that the Balosar was exactly a neat freak, far from the opposite, but the bottles just started getting in the way. Especially in the cockpit, where sometimes they slid around during an evasive maneuver before the inertial compensators kicked in. There had been a brief scary moment back near Rodia where a bottle had stuck beneath one of his foot control pads.
Pak’s heart lifted, though, when he saw that the sky was clearing up, and actually starting to look vaguely blue, though he could tell the suns were starting to set. Hurrying, he dumped the bag away in the nearby trash bin and started back up his ramp. One more bag to go, and he could start his wandering through the city. Grab a few drinks at a cantina, then stop at a liquor store and stock up his depleted stores onboard. Hopefully before another storm picked up. nd then he could be on his way. Even if he hadn’t gotten a new passenger, he might just leave, for literally greener pastures. He shook his head, the brown tousled mess shaking around his antennapalps. He couldn’t imagine how anyone could live here, or want to. Tatooine made his home planet of Balosar look like a resort world.
With the last of the empty bottles dumped away, Pak closed up his ship, set the security alarms and patted his pockets, making sure he had enough credits for a couple hours of a good time. Smiling at its reassuring weight, he sauntered out of the docking bay and through the spaceport, entering the city proper. Knowing what was ahead of him lifted his spirits a bit and made him feel more confident than usual. For the moment, his depression over his lost love was replaced with a manic appetite for alcohol and a good time, though a good time without the company of a female. He wasn’t that far gone to consider something like that. Pak was married now to his liquor and to his ship.
A few blocks from the spaceport, he came across a likely place. In fact, it was the first cantina he had seen. Pak didn’t even bother to read the name on the sign and just went in, seeing the contrast of bright neon lights with a dusky, dusty atmosphere. It was a bar, and he was going inside. Pak had been halfway to the bar to select his first drink of the evening when a voice interrupted his thoughts. It was a droid, welcoming him inside. The Balosar looked up and continued on his way, settling on a stool before grunting at the metal bartender. So intent he was on his objective that he wasn’t aware of his surroundings just yet, either with his eyes or his sensing ‘palps. Pak glanced at the selection on the back wall. “Hmm… I think I’ll try a bottle of that for starters.” He pointed towards a rather innocuous-looking green glass bottle filled with a dark amber liquid. No idea what it was, Pak was looking forward to finding out.
As the droid set about the task of getting the bottle for Pak, he took the time then to look around. He hadn’t the chance to see the rest of the room because his eyes landed on a human sitting a couple stools down to his left. And the man was reaching for his weapon. Belatedly Pak chided himself for always forgetting to stop and get himself a sidearm. His holster had been empty almost since he had gotten his ship, after leaving the Republic military. The Balosar decided to try some light conversational humor. He didn’t expect anyone was after him and that this guy was just jumpy, but one never knew. “Whoa, buddy. Careful with that thing. If you spill the guts of any of my friends here…” He indicted the wall of beer and liquor bottles. “I might have to kill you.” Pak winked and grinned, hoping the guy didn’t take offense, but ready to run for it if he needed to.
Sorry for the length; I got carried away.)))
[…from the Smuggler Contingency]
Another day, another few thousand credits. That’s what was passing through Pak Har’endanno’s mind as he stood in his allocated docking bay in Anchorhead, Tatooine. He thought it a bit odd that after spending so much time running cargo and passengers throughout this side of the Outer Rim that it was his first visit to the planet. And now he could see why. From his bay slot on the outer edge of the small spaceport, all he saw was desolation. Yes, there were buildings and settlements; Anchorhead was a fairly populated area. But even those looked drab, sad. Not to mention all the blasted sand that kept blowing up out of nowhere just when he was trying to find a good place to grab a drink.
So while he had waited for a more opportune time to venture out, he had stayed inside the Crimson Requiem, double-counting his credit payments and doing a thorough search of its compartments for any hidden, forgotten bottles of liquor. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust his latest ‘client.’ The Balosar just had a habit of counting his money to make sure how much he had, how much could be scrimped into any repairs needed on his ship, how much he could save for a blasted sandstorm day. How much could be spared to buy a new supply of his beloved alcohol or even the coveted deathsticks he had been hankering for lately.
While the delegating of his credits had gone well, the search of his ship’s crevices and crannies had been quite the opposite. After he had hidden away his stash of money away in his cabin, he had gone through every passage and room, including the refresher, looking for any place he might have left a bottle of sweet liquid. But every place he looked revealed either nothing or just empty bottles. They were everywhere: his cabin, the galley, the common areas, the cockpit, and yes, even one he found in the steam shower in the ‘fresher. Any being besides Pak would have thought that particular location strange.
Without anything to do then but wait out the storm and see if he could pick up another job, Pak was standing there in the docking bay, pausing to check the weather. Pausing in mid-chuck with a bag of empties one of his hands. He hadn’t anything better to do than try to clean up his ship a bit. And he wasn’t about to attempt any repairs on his ship, though there were a few nicks in the red paint job. He thought it gave the Requiem character, at least for the present moment. Plus, he was just lazy and didn’t want to waste the credits unless a real repair was needed. It wasn’t that the Balosar was exactly a neat freak, far from the opposite, but the bottles just started getting in the way. Especially in the cockpit, where sometimes they slid around during an evasive maneuver before the inertial compensators kicked in. There had been a brief scary moment back near Rodia where a bottle had stuck beneath one of his foot control pads.
Pak’s heart lifted, though, when he saw that the sky was clearing up, and actually starting to look vaguely blue, though he could tell the suns were starting to set. Hurrying, he dumped the bag away in the nearby trash bin and started back up his ramp. One more bag to go, and he could start his wandering through the city. Grab a few drinks at a cantina, then stop at a liquor store and stock up his depleted stores onboard. Hopefully before another storm picked up. nd then he could be on his way. Even if he hadn’t gotten a new passenger, he might just leave, for literally greener pastures. He shook his head, the brown tousled mess shaking around his antennapalps. He couldn’t imagine how anyone could live here, or want to. Tatooine made his home planet of Balosar look like a resort world.
With the last of the empty bottles dumped away, Pak closed up his ship, set the security alarms and patted his pockets, making sure he had enough credits for a couple hours of a good time. Smiling at its reassuring weight, he sauntered out of the docking bay and through the spaceport, entering the city proper. Knowing what was ahead of him lifted his spirits a bit and made him feel more confident than usual. For the moment, his depression over his lost love was replaced with a manic appetite for alcohol and a good time, though a good time without the company of a female. He wasn’t that far gone to consider something like that. Pak was married now to his liquor and to his ship.
A few blocks from the spaceport, he came across a likely place. In fact, it was the first cantina he had seen. Pak didn’t even bother to read the name on the sign and just went in, seeing the contrast of bright neon lights with a dusky, dusty atmosphere. It was a bar, and he was going inside. Pak had been halfway to the bar to select his first drink of the evening when a voice interrupted his thoughts. It was a droid, welcoming him inside. The Balosar looked up and continued on his way, settling on a stool before grunting at the metal bartender. So intent he was on his objective that he wasn’t aware of his surroundings just yet, either with his eyes or his sensing ‘palps. Pak glanced at the selection on the back wall. “Hmm… I think I’ll try a bottle of that for starters.” He pointed towards a rather innocuous-looking green glass bottle filled with a dark amber liquid. No idea what it was, Pak was looking forward to finding out.
As the droid set about the task of getting the bottle for Pak, he took the time then to look around. He hadn’t the chance to see the rest of the room because his eyes landed on a human sitting a couple stools down to his left. And the man was reaching for his weapon. Belatedly Pak chided himself for always forgetting to stop and get himself a sidearm. His holster had been empty almost since he had gotten his ship, after leaving the Republic military. The Balosar decided to try some light conversational humor. He didn’t expect anyone was after him and that this guy was just jumpy, but one never knew. “Whoa, buddy. Careful with that thing. If you spill the guts of any of my friends here…” He indicted the wall of beer and liquor bottles. “I might have to kill you.” Pak winked and grinned, hoping the guy didn’t take offense, but ready to run for it if he needed to.