Erit smiles.

"No, but if it's as bad as I think it is, it is my duty as Child of Ithor to make a donation to the local economy. Perhaps I will even accept a trinket as token of their gratidute."

Quote:

Quote: from CrazyIvan on 9:52 pm on Mar. 8, 2004
"Umm...Sir? The Chance could use some parts, and some spun blaster gas if we have any spare change..."

"Repairs and upgrades are priority one, crew. Aurelia, you get a shopping list together. I'll return to the Chance and organize what's left of our funds from that sp- ah, 'deal' we made. The rest of you, have fun, but don't get lost. We meet back at the ship in ninety minutes."

Erit uses the downtime to visit the local Ithorian community. Granted, it's not very big - few Ithorians would live away from a worldship, and even fewer volountarily -, but the mere meeting of two Ithorians is a small celebration in itself that soon evolves into a war of generosity; the Ithorian vendor, upon hearing of Erit's travels, declares at once that Erit simply *must* accept his gift of several sacred plants. Not to be outdone, Erit accepts, but leaves a wad of credits (a bit more than asking price for the plants, even) on the counter while the charitable businessman isn't looking. Granted, he could have countered by running after the fast-exiting Erit and giving him the credits he 'forgot', but that would be below an Ithorians natural dignity and grace - to run shouting after another being, my, how droll, Erit muses. As he passes through the hallways, Erit feels the mental brush of a fellow force-user coming nearer; a Corellian in non-descript robes passes by. Their looks meet, and both nod to one another, acknowledging their status.

In any event, Erit soon thereafter makes his way back to the ship, hauling a few pots with big plants on a hired anti-grav cargo droid.

Wayde checks the public Imperial database, looking to see if any grunts from his former platoon happen to be on the station. It's a long shot, but he might be able to get some dirt on what exactly was happening on Sullust. Failing that, he'll go to the station's bar and catch the latest sanitized news on the Imperial Holocron.

Wayde doesn't find any rosters on the public systems (maybe Reyes or 'Za could), so he heads off to one of the pubs near the docking levels to catch any news about Sullust.

Sure enough:
*... Imperial authorities report that the liberation of Sullust is progressing slowly. After facing heavy resistance in orbit, Imperial forces were able to disable the planetary shield generators. There is a possibility that Sullust can be reclaimed without further damage once the surface is sterilized. In other news...*

Wayde's dismissing the news feed as a load of Bantha poodoo when he hears a voice behind him say, "Mr. Stryker? Can I have a moment of your time?" A brown-uniformed, balding Imperial smoking a thin cigarette is standing in the pub's doorway.

---

Erit's carting the plants back when he feels the ubiquitous "disturbance in the Force", manifesting itself as a feeling of ill omen - there is something here strong in the Dark Side.

Jileeza goes shopping. She has a weakness for jewelry. Unfortunately, she doesn't have a lot of credits to her name currently. (Something she needs to fix.)

Once she becomes bored, which is never a good thing, she gravitates to a data port and begins looking for any interesting news / gossip.

Quote:

Quote: from admiralducksauce on 9:57 am on Mar. 10, 2004

Wayde's dismissing the news feed as a load of Bantha poodoo when he hears a voice behind him say, "Mr. Stryker? Can I have a moment of your time?" A brown-uniformed, balding Imperial smoking a thin cigarette is standing in the pub's doorway.

Great. This should prove to be no doubt irritating...

Wayde swings slowly around on his barstool, holding his half-drank shot of Corellian whiskey in one hand, flipping out his lighter with the other. Before answering, he sizes up the bald figure and takes a cursory glance about the pub to see if anyone else perks up at the mentioning of his name.

"Sorry pal, I think you've got the wrong guy. The name's Aveyla...Rand Aveyla."

(OOC: I'll be using my "Hates the Empire" aspect if the situation calls for it.)

Erit walks on - no sense in flipping out and yelling "It's the Sith!" just now. He may need the coorporation - and firepower - of his compatriots, and besides, it really would be a pity if those sacred plants got hurt in a fight.

"Of course, Mr. Aveyla," the man continues with a sardonic grin. He produces a card - slowly - from his pocket. "If you do see anyone named Wayde Stryker, please contact me." The card reads 'Alec Urbani - Imperial Customs'. Urbani turns to leave, then turns once more, adding "It's not like Lt. Briggs to greet people in person, Mr. Aveyla."

Wayde pockets the card in his jacket, finishing off his shot as if to indirectly acknowledge the officer.

"I'll be sure to let him know if I run into him, although it's a big galaxy out there..."

Waiting for an appropriate amount of time as to not be overt in his exit, Wayde pays his tab and walks out of the pub, making a wayward path about the station's commons area. After a sufficient amount of subterfuge against any would-be shadowers, he goes about seeking out Mr. Urbani, but not before notifying the Chance of his intentions.

Urbani's office isn't too hard to find, nestled in an open-air terrace a few levels up from the docking levels. The fields around Cloud City keep the buffeting winds of the gas giant from taking people away, but there's still a brisk breeze through the streets and walkways. A cloud car hums overhead at speed.

A protocol droid greets Wayde as he enters - it might even be G4-8, although it's hard to tell with droids. "Greetings sir, and welcome to the Imperial Customs Bureau of Cloud City. Can I help you?"

"I'm here to see Mr. Urbani. He should be expecting me, I was given this card."

"Ah, right through that door sir." The droid steps aside, gesturing to a door with "Administrator" stenciled on the control plate.

woosh goes the door, and Urbani's there behind a metal desk. There's a nice plastic plant in the corner, but aside from some blinking consoles, the office is spotless.

"So, it appears we do have something to talk about." he says.

Wayde isn't impressed with the Urbani's amazing grasp for the obvious. Harkening back to a time when he still wore stripes on his jacket, Wayde never liked being in offices...and still doesn't. The decor is pretty much par for the course, all Imperial officials liked to think they were important and the epitome of all that the Empire stood for.

"Hey...maybe it's Tibanna fumes, but I think you came looking for me. I consider this visit out of common courtesy and nothing else. My reputation seems to precede me wherever I go and the ole noggin isn't what it used to be (scratching chin)...should I know who you are?"

"I would be surprised if you did, Mr. Stryker. I simply dislike solving problems with squads of stormtroopers and blasters when a conversation will do the job." Urbani lights up another cancerstick and continues. "And it is a problem you and I seem to share. As G4-8 would have informed you upon your arrival here, trafficking in spice is prohibited under Imperial law. We can avoid all sorts of unpleasantness if you can tell me what kind of deal Lt. Briggs has arranged with you and your crew."

---

Jileeza probes into the datanet, looking for interesting tidbits, having exhausted what credits she had on some pretty necklaces and other sundries. She finds an interesting discussion on a 'pirate news' channel:

*'Where did I dock?' That's no doubt what the Imperial Navy is asking after the latest, and most unsuccessful attempt to date, to "liberate" Sullust. Sources say that the fleet of three ISDs was to assault the planet, but when only one came out of hyperspace, it was handily defeated. Guess her crew wasn't in on the joke. Criss-crossed orders, or some larger plot? Has the Rebel Alliance found a way to steal capital ships from under the Empire's nose?*

Quote:

Quote: from admiralducksauce on 1:15 pm on Mar. 10, 2004
"I would be surprised if you did, Mr. Stryker. I simply dislike solving problems with squads of stormtroopers and blasters when a conversation will do the job." Urbani lights up another cancerstick and continues. "And it is a problem you and I seem to share. As G4-8 would have informed you upon your arrival here, trafficking in spice is prohibited under Imperial law. We can avoid all sorts of unpleasantness if you can tell me what kind of deal Lt. Briggs has arranged with you and your crew."

(hands out in protest)

"Woah! What a second. As we stated to Lt. Briggs, we're just here for repairs and a bit of R&R before heading out for a complete overhaul. We reluctantly took that bucket of rust as part of a bad deal. Whatever its former owners did with it is their business..."

(gesturing to the comm panel on Urbina's desk)

"...Feel free to send a squad of 'troopers to sweep the cargo holds for spice. I assure you we're not who you or Lt. Briggs thinks we are. You have my word as a military man on that."

"Rest assured that I shall." Urbani calls into the desk comlink, "Commander, send two squads to sweep the vessel at platform 34 for contraband. The crew has given me their permission."

Urbani turns back to Wayde. "Thank you, Mr. Stryker. Oh - I would avoid Lt. Briggs if I were you, he's likely to be none too pleased I've foiled his little smuggling scheme."

Quote:

Quote: from admiralducksauce on 3:34 pm on Mar. 10, 2004
"Rest assured that I shall." Urbani calls into the desk comlink, "Commander, send two squads to sweep the vessel at platform 34 for contraband. The crew has given me their permission."

Urbani turns back to Wayde. "Thank you, Mr. Stryker. Oh - I would avoid Lt. Briggs if I were you, he's likely to be none too pleased I've foiled his little smuggling scheme."

Sonuva...I have a bad feeling about this.

Wayde grits his teeth at the impulsiveness of Urbani, pulling out his comm-link, looking directly at him as he speaks.

(adjusting the comm to broadcast to all Chance crew members)

"Mak, Jileeza...hell, just listen up! I'm at the station's Customs office. There will be some Stormtroopers heading your way, DO NOT fire or otherwise provoke them! They are coming to inspect our ship and I HAVE given them permission to do so. If you so much as raise a finger, I'm not about to take the fall for anything that transpires before I get to the dock. I'll explain everything when I get there. Understood?"

Aurelia heads out into the city, the Twi'lek in tow. As they make their way from the shiney, polished areas shown to visiting tourists to flight bays, hangers and equipment shops, she tries to make small talk with the girl. It's admittedly awkward, trying to dance around the subject of her dead father while asking her what she did, her plans now and generally trying to get to know her.

Accumulating a small cart worth of parts, circuit boards and wire, occasionally asking Ta's advice both out of interest, and to check out her story, she heads out, figuring on grabbing a bite to eat with the girl before making it back to the ship.

Ta's mechanical knowledge doesn't sit right with Aurelia as their trip progresses. The Twi'lek's more than willing to talk shop, in fact prefers that subject to any inquiries about her family, it's just... off, somehow. What she knows seems to match with Aurelia's knowledge of apprentice techs, but it's too... dry. Like it was book-learned, not ingrained into her from working on the job with her dad.

Ta's happy to sit down for a meal. Aurelia finds a nice open-air place, quite the change from 1) the Chance, 2) the tunnels of Sullust, 3) the grit of Tatooine, and 4) those blasted Ugnaughts. They're almost as bad as Jawas, but they know their tech stuff.