A Carratian officer walked authoritatively up to Heavens and nudged him with the butt of his rifle. Linsora turned her face toward the transport and placed her bag on the ground, allowing her to bend down and blend more with the others.
“I might be on your world,” Haavens growled, “but I’m Merc and under Merc law. Don’t touch me with your weapons or your hands unless you have a warrant. Now, what do you want, officer?”
“There was a prison break this morning by a Khizaran. She’s dangerous. She needs to be returned to Central Core to be processed back into the prison. Watch for her. You don’t want the likes of her on your ship. Besides,” the officer bent low to Haavens face, “transporting a fugitive is a capital offense on Carratia. You could lose your ship, crew, career, and life. Would be ashamed for such a distinguished Merc Captain to lose so much.” The officer lingered, waiting for a reaction, hoping for some response to give him cause to retaliate.
“I’m trying to get crew for my ship, so if you’re done, go away and breathe your decaying Carratian breath on the next ship’s recruiter. Otherwise, I might have to file an intergalactic complaint against you for delaying my departure.”
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