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A woman watches as the merchant storms down the ramp. She drags deeply on a cigarette in her right hand, cybernetic below the elbow, constructed from a matte black polymer. A hologram hangs in front of her left eye, cycling through images as she talks to someone via some no doubt cybernetic comm device.

"No... Still looking... Wait a second... I think i've got something... No the ship looks like shit... Perfect i know... I'll call you back."

With that, she drops the cigarette, and crushes it into the deckplate under her boot, with a half twist of her ankle for good measure. The hologram blinks out of existence, she brushes the hair from her eyes, and pulls her jacket around to cover the holster on her thigh, then starts to jog over to the captain walking across the docking bridge.

"Hey! This your ship?" She waves at him, trying to get his attention, and carefully pitches her voice to sound local, but not too local. Holding her accent to the point it's believable, but without falling into an unwelcoming docker's drawl.

He never liked those gargantuan cities: Too noisy, too busy, too many dark places where criminals prey on unsuspecting victims, and too many traffic regulations which would probably blow his mind. And not forgetting the smell.
Those worlds like Goormand and his home were just the right place to his liking. But while thinking about it, Detlef felt a nasty sting to his heart. Right, he wasn't ever allowed back to his homeworld again. Not that the population would mind, but his parents certainly would. Given what the merchantman did, it was quite certain that they might call the authorities upon him when he showed up at their doorsteps.
Sometimes, when they were on a journey through the endless reaches of space, with Marti just doing his thing and the captain sitting behind his table over some charts, he would brood about if it was all worth it. Just to finally fulfill his dream of having a Starman, sailing across the stars, always on the search for rich treasure and exciting adventure.
And here he was.
What would they think of him now? But more important: would they ever forgive him?

The second he stepped out of Jim Hawkins, he immediately noticed those looks from different persons around the docks. First watching the salesman going his way, still angry, and then fixating their eyes straight on Detlef. Like standing on stage alone with hundreds of persons among the audience, only to botch their performance up.
Some kind of invisible...”wall” tried to push him back into the hold. Maybe it was a better plan to look for work elsewhere, where people didn't witness a furious customer right in front of their eyes after a failed delivery.
But then suddenly, a feminine voice called out to him, tearing him away from those thoughts, getting him back onto the right track for now. Was that...
...a passenger?! With money?!
Akin to a explorer, he put his flat hand over his eyebrows, scouting for that potential passenger. And there she was, waving at him, asking if that was his ship.
“Passenger ho!”, Detlef proclaimed and regained his composure. The captain still wanted to appear like a professional captain, not some hobo with a weird obsession for past centuries.

So he approached her with an upright walk, cleared his throat and greeted in a friendly manner, “Good day, madam. And you are correct, this is indeed my ship. How can we be of assistance today?”
A quick glance down the woman's right arm from below the elbow and he noticed the cybernetic part. Maybe Detlef should get some cybernetic arms as well. It would certainly make handling the cargo easier.

Holding her coats collar against the breeze, she stops short of the bottom of the docking bridge. "Well, I'm looking to chart a ship. Myself and a few others. A good ship, mind. With a good captain."
Something in her tone seemed to imply that Detlef's ship, was a good ship, and that he, was a good captain. A certain shine in her eye, the way she didn't quite meet his gaze. Makes a man feel good, that.

That surely sounded very promising! It might not be enough to get the ship fully seaworthy again, but it should cover the expenses for food. The only thing he wasn't entirely fond of was the mentioning of a few other people; it was only Marti and him, with the former being the only one with actual combat experience and a powerful musket. So should they ever attempt to steal the ship, there wasn't much Marti could do.
But on the other hand, the ship would fall apart not too long after a hostile capture and Starmen were already near-extinct, so...

“Of course, madam.” he answered, a bit flustered about the compliment and then looked back to Jim Hawkins. “That old bucket might not look like it, but I'll vouch that you won't find another ship that could survive flying through a black hole.” Just realizing what that would mean to all people onboard, he backtracked stuttering, “N-no w-wait, that wouldn't be a good i-idea. But anyway, I'll have to ask you about the amount of your fellow passengers. Since we would have to prepare the cabin and the beds first, which might take a bit.”

"Seven people besides me. And some cargo. Our tools and such. We're not looking to fly in style, just get there." She smiles, and adds "And we won't be needing to fly into a black hole."

Detlef really can't tell if that smile reminds him of a girl he was sweet on once, or a shark smelling blood. One of the two. Cross your fingers for the former. Besides, its not like running into another contract who wasn't someone, or who didn't know someone, he'd already pissed off, was especially likely.

Eight people? Not that Detlef minded the generous payment, but getting this amount comfortably on the vessel would be hit with some problems. Mainly the beds. Besides that he couldn't stop eight people when they rampaged through the cabin and the decks. And that smile...where did he see something like that once?
But no need to get confrontational here; after all, he was a professional – even though some previous business partners might claim otherwise – and needed the cash infusion desperately!
Let's see how much they were willing to pay for the cargo and the passage...and that wasn't even touching the destination.

So he pulled out a small PDA, noted the amount of passengers and the cargo and then asked, “Alright, eight passengers, tools and possibly more cargo. At that point, I have to tell you unfortunately that we only have four beds in the cabin and I'll have to hang up four hammocks on the gun deck. If that is acceptable for you, I would like to proceed with details about the cargo. We can discuss the prices later, if you are fine with that.”

"Of course, the cargo will be industrial equipment, mostly." She gestures towards the docking bridge "You could show me around while we discuss the cargo in detail." Before he's answered, she's already taken a step towards the bridge. Looking back at him expectantly as she does so.

This woman certainly didn't like to waste time; just like Detlef, given that time is money. So he eagerly headed towards the ship until he stopped dead for a moment. Didn't he forgot one little detail..?
Then he remembered like a lightning went through him: The hold was still a mess from the beverage and Marti wouldn't be fast enough to clean it up in time. On the other hand, the captain didn't want to ruin this opportunity by letting her choose another ship.
He quickly put up a shining smile and said, “Naturally, we'll get right to it!” He placed himself next to the entrance, looked inside for a second and sweated a bit since Marti was still cleaning up. Nevertheless, Detlef tried his hardest to not let his client show his worries and asked, “Follow me inside, if you please.”

Twirl Star Bar

"Hey, hey, hey, can't we talk about this?" the giant eyeball being spoke as he raised his stubby arms up and his back up against the the old bar top of what clearly is a dive bar, from the dankly look of the place and less than reputable looking clientele. The man with his five o'clock shadow and beer belly stood in front of the stranger with a mean look as he rambled " No we can't, outlander! You were looking at me funny" as he looks at him estranged. The rather eyeball looked at the man completely straight and says "Look at you funny?! You do realize I'm a giant eyeball for a head? How can I look at you funny?!" just as he spoke a few glass cups began to float behind the man as he stepped forward.

"I don't know but you just do!" the man says visibly getting made at the odd fellow before him. "I just wanted an excuse to punch some alien twat!" he says as his fast came towards the odd man's eye. Seeing the punch, the giant eyeball head detached from the body leaping into the air as the fist that was meant for it hit nothing but air. The drunken man looks as the glasses behind came crashing down upon his head causing to him grip his own head for safety causing him to hunch over to protect himself which allowed the odd fellow's body to detach all parts and either float or scurr behind him reforming behind the drunken man.

He would soon feel a tap on his shoulder as the head of the eyeball reattached to the rest of his polyshaped body. As the drunken man would turn to see him, the odd fellow spoke "You know its not good to attack someone you don't know" and with that the odd fellow struck at him with his stubby arms but they didn't make contact, but the sheer force did though which cause the man tumble over feeling the power from the strike. He spat blood and says "You hit like a child!" as he quickly rushes to the odd fellow eyeball man. With almost like child like agility, the odd fellow danced around the drunken man as he swung fruitlessly, taunting him "Haha! Too slow!" as he continues to dance around him, dodging the attacks "Gotta try harder than that!" he taunts more as he continues to dance around him. Soon the drunken man tired himself out in which the odd fellow spoke "My turn" and with two jabs in which the sheer force made contact was all it was needed as the drunken stumbles back and is knocked out onto the ground. The odd fellow made a legit sounding Bell noise and raises his arms and says "Ding* Ding* I'm the winner! Magnus Arius! HA!" as he twirls around as the patrons of the bar clapped. Magnus looks at the bartender and says "What I had is on his tab" as he turns to walk out of the bar into the crazy, crazy galaxy.

The woman strides up the ramp with a mannish gait after Detlef, stopping to stand in the doorway, surveying the cabin with a slow and withering gaze. She runs her finger down the surface of the wall, her flesh and blood finger, of her left hand, and finding some dirt, rubs thumb and forefinger together with a thoughtful expression. "You've just come into port, yes?"

Yes! Another opportunity to buy time for his first mate! Just keep talking and hold his customer off!
"Yes, about an hour ago in fact. Finding the dock you've been assigned to and looking for the client surely took its time. And that's not including the time of finding someone to operate the cranes." Realizing with a slight shock that he already ran out of stuff to gain more time, her rubbing off some dust from the walls came into his mind.
With a confident smile, his chest filled with pride, he set himself in a heroic pose and said in awe: "What you've collected, isn't simple dust... it's the witness to long forgotten age where mighty ships, built of wood, conquered the seas. Even though I have no idea how long a trip took back then..."

She turns to look at him with a questioning expression "It's not actually made of wood though, right? I mean... it couldn't be, that wouldn't hold atmosphere..." She looks deeply confused, and continues looking about the place.

"Oh, don't worry", Detlef said shaking his head confidently and proceeded with a calm voice, "It's made of sturdy metal just like your regular spaceship and can take some abuse. Even the gunports come with forcefields to protect you from being sucked into the endless void when opened. Everything simply to give the ship the appearance of an ancient East Indiaman." Figuring that he can't keep talking like that forever if he doesn't want to wear out her patience, he carefully tried to nudge the conversation back to the important parts, "Now, I think we should use our remaining time for business, right? Maybe we can fill out the necessary paperwork first and when we're finally on route, we can continue talking about the good old times?"
He looked to the side a bit embarassed, realizing that the mention of the "good old times" might have came out wrong. So the man quickly added with a stutter, "I-I-If you want to I mean, like history if that's your thing..."

"I'm not much one for history... Or for paperwork to be quite frank... It's just not really necessary, is it?" She gestures between the two of them, declaring. "After all, what need is there to inform the authorities, about a simple business agreement?"

Now that sounded... weird. Detlef understood not being fond of paperwork - he knew from doing those damned tax returns -, but in the end it was still a necessary evil. Okay, not an evil per se, but after all an enormous hassle. And he nevertheless needed invoices to prove those tax officials that he wasn't cheating them out of money.
But given that he was pretty much broke already and the last job that didn't end badly was a while ago...

"There's no need to inform the authorities, you're right about that", he said with a friendly nod. "But we still need an invoice so that those officials won't rise an eyebrow and get the idea about checking on us thoroughly." Then he, however, watched his surroundings carefully, before holding his hand next to his mouth and whispered, "Of course, we can still arrange that as some sort of favour. That kind the officials don't necessarily have to know about, if you know what I mean. In that case I'll have to politely request that you'll keep your lips sealed on that..."
Detlef already knew that his first mate would probably scream at him. But desperate times called for desperate measures.

She waggles a finger of her bionic hand at him. "Now that's what i like to hear." Her grin reminds him of nothing more than a shark smelling blood. She taps her thumb against each finger in sequence, almost too quickly for the eye to follow, middle, little, ring, index; turning away from Detlef, appearing to inspect an old, slightly shabby repair job. "So, all thats left is to discuss price, then?"

Meanwhile Marti should have finished cleaning up, but at least now Detlef won't have to delay Sasha anymore. The following negotiations surely will provide enough time for his first mate now.
"Yes, so I would highly appreciate if you could produce a list of your cargo and passengers including the place of delivery, so everything from the transfer to preparing the accomodations can be prepared properly." He then added after short thinking, "And unfortunately I'll need papers, but for my personal files."

"I can have some papers put together, if you need them. Cargo, But I can't give you names." She crosses her arms, something in the set of her eyes says that this is non negotiable. "Some of my friends are quite shy."

Her tattoos, up until now, haven't caught Detlef's eye, but now, they seem rather... Gang related. The patterns geometric, with only a scant few actual images among them. A far cry from the going fashion of swirling organic shapes. Then he spots the image of a cracked void suit helmet, a jawless skull leering from within, peeking from behind the fabric of her vest. A well enough known symbol of lawless types, and pirates both.

Suddenly Detlef felt something encroaching around his stomach. First small, then getting more intensive every second passed. This uncomfortable feeling that one unspecific thing about this entire situation wasn't entirely kosher. The way Sasha was hesitating about giving more info could only mean that she was hiding something. He then grumbled and looked to the side, pretending to be thinking, but in the corner of his eyes, he spotted her tattoos. Admittedly the captain wasn't entirely versed in the different cultures, spending most of his time in space, or sea, as he often put it jokingly. Didn't the pirates who robbed him once have similar ones?
Or maybe she just liked their look, living the life of a hardcore punk who acted tough but in reality was a kind soul...
He had to risk it.

His expression lightened up once more, he grinned, put his thumbs up and said excitedly, "Excellent, then hand over your papers as soon as possible, while I will get right started!"

That sharkish grin flashes again, predatory. "I'll go have something written up." She turns, and walks back towards the loading ramp, stopping at the doorway, and half turning back. "How long will you need to sit in port? I want to be gone as quickly as possible."