It was one o'clock in the morning when at Docking Bay 321 the Patriarch docked. The vessel itself was large: not quite small enough to be a freighter but not bulky and difficult to handle like the commonly-used frigates. Only a few Corellians were in the landing bay, all weary-eyed and loath to unload the vessel's cargo. The Bay Officer wearily opened up a bottle of Tarisian Ale and drank from it until he felt the Patriarch's landing struts come into contact with the floor of the docking bay. He cursed for a moment before entering the bay control room, while the others began moving to the rear of the ship to begin unloading its cargo.