Damn it Feels Good To Be a Gangsta'.

A Real Gansta Type Player Plays His Cards Right.

Previous Entry Share Next Entry
A New Crowd, A New Paycheck.
Not kidding
"So this is where we're making the drop?" Harry huffed and adjusted his jacket with a quick, sharp tug. The man next to him was imposing and rougish in that scar-across-your-face-that-makes-you-look-like-a-badass sort of way. He sneered back at Harry.

"That'd be why we're here." He glared and, as he did, several of his closest, grossest, least couth friends decided they would join him.

"Well, gentlemen, let's get to business," Harry suggested in a tone that contained all the forced geniality he could muster. One of the ones near the port wall spat something thick and viscous onto the floor. How Harry maintained his smile, he wasn't sure.

"You two, take the crates. Don't let the feds spot you with those weapons." Badass Mc'Scarface ordered and stood up. Ab tattoos, why did every loser mercenary from here to the Beta quadrant think ab tattoos were the way to go? "Pretty boy, go and flash some id."

Normally, Harry didn't take much issue with being referred to as a pretty boy, but there was something grating about hearing it from this jerk. He ran his hands through his hair and shrugged nonchalantly.

"Fine," Harry agreed and moved toward the airlock. "Don't mess up the place while I'm gone."

"Shut it and do your job," Scarface snapped back. "And if anyone gives you trouble, make sure they don't."

Harry stared briefly and turned to leave. Someone behind him made a crass comment about what kind of trouble he'd be in, and Harry shuddered as he climbed out of the airlock. This crew was, decidedly, not his professional cup of tea. Harry crossed the bridge and was nearly knocked over by innocuous Goons One and Two as they hauled crates. When he stepped out into the main cargo hold, Harry glanced about and shook himself out.

Now to find security.

  • 1
Martha had pulled cargo duty. Most of her colleagues weren't that enthused about being stuck in one place, being ordered about all shift by the admins they were technically there to support, but Martha liked seeing all the the new things coming in, watching the base expand day by day.

Plus one of the admins was totally cute, although she wasn't on today.

In a quiet moment, Martha pulled out her PADD and leaned against a bulkhead, revising the hide and seek plans for the millionth time. It wouldn't be long before the game began, and although Jim was of course in charge, she wanted to make sure she had everything straight in her head.

It had to be perfect.

Harry made a bee-line for the first security officer he could find. People who were eager to get things going were rarely suspected of anything, especially when they had papers forged so well a Vulcan wouldn't know the difference.

That the first officer he spotted happened to be a pretty little blonde, leaning against a bulkhead, reading a PADD with all the focus of a schoolgirl...well, that had absolutely no bearing whatsoever on his haste.

None at all.

"Well hello, Miss," Harry said easily as he stepped up beside her. "Say, you wouldn't happen to know where a Freighter Captain goes to check in around here?"

Martha immediately lowered the PADD and straightened. "I can inspect your credentials, sir, but your cargo manifest will have to go through the office."

She nodded towards the - well, "office" was a bit much, really, it was a couple of desks with some screening, but the admins were very particular about it.

"Of course," Harry agreed easily and leaned against the wall next to her. He rifled through his coat and, with a suave smile, passed her the appropriate documentation. "Here you are."

Martha smiled back, happy to see a friendly face. A lot of the people coming in didn't have any time for proper protocol, just grumbling about delays.

She gave the documents the standard inspection. Everything seemed to be in good order, but there was one mistake.

"You haven't listed a departure date, sir."

"What?" Harry asked blandly and blinked. He took the papers back and inwardly cursed the names of all the gods he could recall. "My mistake," he announced in an equally unassuming tone.

"I'll check the shipping schedule once I check in at the office, and bring this right back on in," he continued, his smile broad. "I hope that won't be a problem?"

Martha nodded. "That should be fine. You get a fourteen day pass anyway - if your departure date goes beyond that, you'll have to fill out form Beta-3, that's all."

She began reeling off the standard security warning about restricted areas and Federation law. The handsome captain looked human enough, but he could always have come from a non-Fed colony.

"Please make sure your crew is also aware of these items," she concluded. "I hope you enjoy your time at Starbase 69, sir."

Harry nodded. Through every confounded, irritating, yammering line of protocol that blonde was spouting at him. His smile never wavered, not once, and he even beamed a little brighter when she was done (though that was mostly involuntary).

"I'm sure I will," Harry assured her. It was a lie. "Thank you kindly...Officer...?"

Martha didn't see anything suspicious in the captain's eyes glazing a little - everyone hated the speech, and at least he was polite enough to keep smiling.

"Ensign Landon, sir," she said.

"Officer Landon," Harry repeated genially. "A pleasure." He inclined his head and moved off toward the office.

His manifests were forged down to every last punctuation mark. There was something nice, though, about knowing they'd pass inspection without him even trying to distract the folk on duty. It was possible this little fact lent a half skip to his step.

  • 1

Log in