[right][h3]Garbella Memorial Starport, Hangar 141 - Jast[/h3][/right][hr] Jast rubbed a temple. This really didn’t qualify as negotiating. No, it was more haggling than anything. The Twi’lek dockmaster, a tall, sallow skinned being with a shit-eating grin like a shark’s, would not stop smiling. He wanted twenty percent above market rate for the water and wouldn’t clear them for takeoff until they paid. Not even haggling. It was plain extortion. “Let me take it from here,” Val said, “looks like we have company.” The engineer nodded over to the gathering crowd. Jast looked over and gave Telsa, ever on his right, a nod. “Alright. You take care of it. No more than fifteen percent, final offer,” he said, the last bit directed with pointed frustration at the dockmaster. Val nodded, and let the two get to the real work. Jast and Telsa walked over from the hangar’s far right, and as they approached, the captain of the Raven Trepass flashed their guests a broad, white smile. “Thrax, Sena,” he said as they closed the distance, giving them both firm handshakes in greeting. “Pleasure to see you two again. And you,” he said, moving to the Rodian at the head of his trio, “must be Gleetch Elnam,” he said, offering the captain of the Rodia’s Revenge a hand in turn. “That’s a great looking ship you’ve got over there. Jaren Jast, captain of the Raven Trepass. Pleasure to meet you.” Telsa, meanwhile, made introductions with Thrax and Sena. She’d become such an integral part of the crew that Jast often forgot she was still relatively new to the scene on Nar Shaddaa. She hadn’t had a chance to meet the breaking-and-entering tag team the last time the crew had contracted with the pair. “Right, sorry,” Jast interjected. “Thrax, Sena, this is Telsa Jetstar, our dedicated pilot. She’ll be flying us out to Ord Mantell for the job.” [center]- - -[/center] [right][h3]Garbella Memorial Starport, Aerospace Control Tower 3 - Yaan[/h3][/right][hr] A short, stout Lannik sat at his console atop one of the eight vaunted towers of Garbella Memorial, at the very heart of the starport's nervous system. Aerospace Control Tower 3's deck was a busy, chattering office, abuzz with energy as dozens of aerospace controllers worked away to carry out the starport's day-to-day business. Deben Yaan's communicator buzzed excitedly in his ear, and the Lannik tapped a button on his console. "Garbella Memorial, Aerospace Control," he announced into the receiver. He should sound more alert, he knew, but it was early and the caf hadn't done enough for him that morning. Not that he needed to be, really. Garbella Memorial was not only the largest starport on Nar Shaddaa, it was also the most advanced. The starport practically operated itself, its automated systems providing more than enough information and processing power to guide its air and starships through docking and launches. For all the business of the control tower's setting, he was more of a supervisor to the computer system than an aerospace traffic controller. "Aerospace Control, I am requesting an immediate lockdown of Hangar 141," the caller stated flatly, save for some clear emphasis on [i]immediate[/i]. It wasn't a request. Yaan's understanding of the military came from holovids alone, but that authoritarian bark sounded like an order a military officer might give. He yawned. "Please provide clearance codes," he answered. The military officer-type on the other end of the call provided a long alphanumeric string, which the Lannik diligently recorded and inputted. The system denied clearance. "Please repeat," Yaan said, and the charade played out again. Denied. "I apologize, sir," Yaan said with clear insincerity, "but your clearance codes are out of date." "This is unacceptable. I speak on behalf of the Sith Empire! That hangar needs to be locked down at this moment!" The caller's voice grew louder and more shrill with each syllable. Yaan took a sip of his third caf of the day, mulling over what the Sith Empire could want with a hangar currently berthing three light freighters. Or why a Sith official would be calling an aerospace control tower to do, well, anything. It felt too mundane. "If you would like to speak to my supervisor, I can arrange for him to take your call," the Lannik offered, looking over to Grotto and giving him a nod. The Toydarian, busy with another controller's console a few cubes down, put up a hand in the universally recognized signal for [i]wait[/i]. "He's busy at the moment, can you hold?" "Absolutely not! Who is this-" Yaan pressed the hold button and drained the caf before taking his next call.