Jocasta smiled, charmed in spite of herself by Neil’s brash enthusiasm. She wondered just what he might have done that someone was willing to throw down several million credits to ruin his day. She resisted the urge to think of him as a harmless local, such things had gotten her into trouble before. 


“Sure,” she giggled, “a Callisto might suit, let’s see what you have.” They left out the front door pursued by inarticulate cries from the shop owner. Neil took her hand and lead her through a hanger past a series of ships in various stages of disrepair. Some of them looked like junkers, others looked like they were worth a small fortune. Clearly the shop didn’t discriminate when it came to clientele. None of the ships was large enough to be jump capable and Jocasta smiled, wondering what Neil would make of the Dragonfly. She scolded herself for the thought, he was going to get a look at the Dragonfly very soon, though spending a week in her little brig probably wasn’t going to endear him to the ship.


“What do you think, Callisto Mark III,” Neil said, pulling away a greasy cover cloth with a dramatic flourish. The ship beneath was sleek and shaped like a fluted arrowhead with a long projecting bow and short stubby wings. It was painted with green and gold racing stripes of which Jocasta heartily approved. 


“Whoa,” she said. Neil nodded and grinned.

“We don’t only deal in clapped out junkers,” he agreed, slapping the canopy release to make the cab retract with a smooth hiss. Jocasta climbed in and turned on the power. It really was a nice model.

“You know how to fly one I take it?” Neil asked.

“Sure do,” she replied, patting the passenger seat, “hop on in, need to make sure I dont steal it.”