| abstract
| - This section of the roof is raised above the rest of the Embassy, providing room for shuttles to come in and land. On the edge of the roof, there is a low utility-gray painted building that houses the turbolift and a maintenance shed. Techs bustle about, attending to the various needs of the ships landed here. Toward the horizon, the rest of Plaxton City spreads out below. The unique Casparian architecture is harmonious with the trees that are present everywhere. All who enter the embassy below must pass through a weapons detector, where guards are on duty. Initially, the sight of an Imperial freighter coursing towards the embassy on radar was cause for 'mild' alarm among Embassy security staff, the office staff, and some of the nosier housekeeping staff. Once the Captain's transmission was received, however, nervous sweats turned to victorious shouts and stamps. All very dignified, of course. Com link headset firmly in place to keep her offworld, NR associates on standby, Ambassador Delgard exits the turbolift at a stiff trot, hands raised to shade out what little sun gets through the clouds. Other bodies are already hustling about: cargo droids, repulsor lifts, and marines at the ready with concealment tarps, for all the good it might do. 'Low-key' is not a word anyone well-acquainted with Shiari Vane would use to describe her - and her entrance is no less conspicuous in flight than in person. The massive bulk-freighter flies low over the plaza, managing to circumnavigate the Imperial embassy's 'airspace' by the narrowest of margins, flashing them her proverbial posterior in her ion wake. The stolen Action VI Corulag Haul descends with care to the landing pad surface - thrusters roaring as they work to off-set its weight, cross-draft nearing gale-force as she settles on her landing gears, assured by the New Republic that the structure could take the fully loaded weight. The structure of the landing pad would probably weep if it could. "This is going to take awhile..." Ambrosia muses, squinting against the rush of wind generated by the freighter's landing prep. Fortunately, the reception crew is assembled and ready to start unloading. Any unnecessary equipment has been cleared from the landing deck, sparing as much room as possible to stack crates in the small margins NOT occupied by the freighter. The docking port is found on the starboard side. Or rather, it would be if there were not a large two by three meter hole in the ship's hull where it ought to be, up close its clear that some kind of high-temperature cutting device was used to force entry - probably how the pirates boarded an unwilling freighter, and it is from within the dimly lit corridor it leads to that Vane steps into the bright Caspian daylight. An arm rises to shield her eyes, the other folded across the small of her back - long red coat worn over a grey plastoid breastplate. Her coarse, rolling voice addresses Ambrosia. "Madame Ambassador!" "Captain Vane," Ambrosia advances once it's clear she won't be blown into oblivion by the thrusters. "It is a pleasure, this opportunity to greet you in the flesh. Whole." Nodding appreciation while her eyes perform a quick scan of the rather formidable woman before her, she extends a hand of welcome. Behind her, the crew is already scuttling forward, each being - sentient or otherwise - getting on with their assigned tasks. "Congratulations on your new acquisition...did she fly well?" There's a blur of motion, orange and rather bright, as a kewokian monkey-lizard drops onto Vane's shoulder, one claw wrapped about her neck for stability as it hisses territoriality at the approaching ground crews. "Like a Hutt's mother." she exclaims, clambering down the side of the vessel which is, sadly, lacking its gantry. She drops to the ferrocrete landing-pad surface with a deadened thud of her boots and gestures back to the ship. "Your new acquisition, though, I suppose. Ten percent of her black market value, plus the cargo...hmmm?" She leans in with a wide, toothy smile. "And there's a little something extra waiting for you on board with my men. Lieutenant Collins of His Imperial Majesty's Navy, and nine of his less than heroic crewmen." Not even bothering to mask the surprise widening her eyes upon hearing of the 'bonus' onboard, Ambrosia chuckles, shaking her head. "You have surpassed my expectations, Captain." A distrusting eye narrows in examination of the newly arrived monkey lizard. "I'm not entirely sure how long we may safely *store* this behemoth, here, but imagine the Navy will eventually find some use for her. The persons inside, however...I can prepare some hospitality for them, I'm sure. At the very least, we could offer the package up in exchange for the Empire's peaceful departure, but...I don't anticipate that being a fruitful business dealing." Sharing a toothy grin of her own, she ducks her head aside for a quick murmur into her headpiece, then gestures for Vane to follow her. "While my people unload, why don't you join me for a beverage and we can sort out the most important matter - your payment. Hm?" Cocking her head aside, she quirks a brow in question for which she already knows the answer. Vane's chin rises, her head carried just a little higher as that toothy grin grows a little smug, hands both folded at her back, monkey-lizard returning the ambassador's look of distrust as it clambers from one shoulder to the other. The talk of money, and alcohol, returns Vane's attention very much to the present moment however and the pirate gives a hearty coarse chuckle, reaching into her coat to produce a datapad. "One hundred and fifty thousand standard galactic credits black market resale, at ten percent..." she calculates, swiping through what looks suspiciously like an invoice. "I've yet to inventory the cargo, but my pay-master will assist your men with the tally. Then three hundred for a junior officer, two for the chief-petty, and eight hundred more for the deckhands brings us out to..." "Sixteen thousand, three hundred...plus cargo," Amber calculates in her head, glancing aside to watch the first of the crates being buzzed across the pad. "Clearly I entered into the wrong profession, those many years ago. If only the going rate for treaty constructions and intergalactic relations-saving was so lucrative..." Sighing, she pulls a similar pad from her blastvest and punches in some quick notes, all while back pedaling slowly towards the turbolifts. "It's quite a steal!" Vane chuckles dryly as she nods her affirmation of the arithmetic and returns the pad to its pocket. "It would be a great deal more, under usual circumstances. But your Navy was most generous in their choice of vessel." she expresses as they make their way to the turbolift and the pirate stands aside for the Ambassador to handle the security. "...so we'll extend the terms of the deal to cover 'unforseen goods'." "Sounds reasonable to me." Waiting for them inside the turbolift hut is a pair of NR marines and what very clearly is a weapons scanner. Ambrosia flashes her id in habit, then turns to her guest. "Captain, while we mean no insult to your scruples...we ask that all visitors deposit any sidearms - or heavier weaponry - here before being admitted into the Embassy proper. Each item will be cataloged and accounted for, to be returned to your person upon your exit of the building. I'm sure you can understand our need for strict security protocol here, given the circumstances." Lips crooked askew in a sort of apologetic smile, the ambassador gestures to the scanner and awaiting marines - one of whom appears rather fascinated with the strange creature riding shotgun atop its owner. Vane's hands move to her hips, the gesture spreading her coat and revealing a quite proudly displayed MerrSonn 434 Death-hammer series heavy blaster pistol and a wicked looking vibroblade. The pirate's head tosses back in a raucous laughter than carries well in the open air. "Ooohh! You are a funny one..." she refuses, with a knowing smirk and one hand rising to waggle a finger in Ambrosia's direction as if congratulating her on a joke. Or issuing a chastisement. "...but not a chance, Republic!" Not sharing in the humor this round, Ambrosia shrugs a shoulder of indifference. The marines tighten their position a bit, faces no longer welcoming. "Well, it is your choice to make. I'm afraid our transaction ends here, then." Lips still retaining a polite smile, she motions to her datapad. "I can give you the sixteen thousand and three hundred creds now, in hard chits, or wire them to an account of your choosing. We can then either wait for your cargo master to finish his tally and pay the remainder owed here, or have it wired to you when they are finished, if you're in a hurry to depart. If you'd like to wait, I can at least have refreshments brought top side." Drinks on the deck? Oh yeah. Ambrosia the rule bender. "That is...disappointing." Vane's own mirth melts away, the pirate's arms folding across her chest. The monkey-lizard leans forward, beak gnashing in a display of aped disapproval. "No, no. Do not trouble yourself." she shakes her head slowly, the Rattataki's fingers rising in a gesture of polite if not warm refusal. "If this is to be the extent of our dealings, we shall simply wait until the final tally is complete, receive our payment and be on our way..." "So be it," Ambrosia nods and motions to a chair, if the Captain wishes to rest. She remains standing, hands idling fishing a small flask from her vest. "If you are interested in making similar runs in the future...we would be happy to continue our business arrangement." Nimble fingers unscrew the flask, then she uses it to gesture briefly to the freighter's unlucky crew as they are ushered out in an orderly line by armed marines. "Your skills are quite commendable, Captain. Would you care to regale me with the story of...this?" Vane declines the chair, though she accompanies Ambrosia at a pleasurably conversational distance. "That would depend..." she expresses. "...on the terms." she watches the Imperial crew marched by her, the captain has a superficial cut, perhaps a few hours old down one cheek. "But we're getting ahead of ourselves. First, I must be paid. And then I must find a way off of this planet again before I am in a position to make any further arrangements." "Ah, well. Let us see if the cargo master has finished tallying the goods then, shall we?" Unabashed by present company, the good Ambassador takes a mouthful of whatever is in the flask and takes a leading step out of the turbolift station, back towards the freighter. "Unless you have a retrieval crew in atmospheric orbit, your exit is certainly going to be a challenge. We weren't anticipating your arrival would be onboard a part OF the transaction." She points to the pilfered ship. " You're of course welcome to use it to take your leave, if we deduct its agreed 10 percent value from your final cut. There's also the option of local shuttles, but I suspect that few, if any, are willing to pass through the blockade. I have notified our Navy of the shipment's arrival and requested they send fleet personnel to retrieve this beast of a vessel. Perhaps they can assist your homeward travel. Until then..." she spreads her arms widely. "Welcome to Caspar. It's a beautiful planet, and I'd be happy to give you a personal tour of my favorite destinations...including the cantina."
|
![[RDF Data]](/fct/images/sw-rdf-blue.png)