Master of Docking

[Kup]

OOC: Crossposted from Slow Boat to China

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Kup returns Bambi's innocent look with a suspicious one, then he glances up at Grimlock. Finally, down at Emirate Xaaron, and when he mentions Botanica's impending arrival, he nods. "Ah, good." The plant lady makes him more than a little uncomfortable, as much for what she represents as for what she is, but Kup has a vauge idea that it'll be harder from Bambi to pull the cyber-wool over her optical sensors than it might be with Grimlock.

Kup's back is possibly patted - he doesn't prevent it. As he walks alongside Xaaron, leaving Bambi and Grimlock behind, he does ask, "Yeah? Does it need to be dealt with before or after the dockmaster?"

[Emirate Xaaron]

Would Kup rather be pushing up the daisies or be a daisy?

Emirate Xaaron does pat Kup on the back, then. He confides, "The matter is the dockmaster himself. Even as poor a berth as this one costs, you see. If we can't pay, the Event Horizon will be repossessed. We can wait a while, but the interest is quite... steep."

[Kup]

Kup chooses (C) None of the above.

He grunts at Emirate Xaaron's observation as he walks alongside the Autobot leader. He watches the area around him without seeming to actually pay any attention to it.

"So what do you plan to offer to pay? 'Medications'? We're pretty limited on the trade goods front."

[Emirate Xaaron]

Emirate Xaaron explains, "Oh, they didn't ask, which tells you something about the place. They'd really rather repo the ship than actually have you pay." His voice lowers, "So. Ah. Make sure there's a crew ready to scram at a moment's notice, hmm?"

[Kup]

"Right. Good point," Kup answers giving a brief nod of his head. "Well, Mayday was still on board last I checked, and as long as he's there, it's ready to go."

He pauses as they pass by a rather important looking door, then frowns and glances at the labelplate. Some local language, but it's one he's encountered before. He lifts his left hand and jerks his thumb towards the door. "Think we got the place, boss."

[Emirate Xaaron]

Mayday? Emirate Xaaron should get to know his troops better, really.

He looks at the nameplate, long enough that he could have read it, if he could read the language. Emirate Xaaron does pronounce, "So we do."

Then, without an evident worry in his body, he strides toward the door, to give it a good, sharp rap.

[SceneMod]

The odd pair does indeed have the right door. Kup and Xaaron might hear some rather muffled cursing and shuffling about, followed by the sound of glass shattering and some not-so-muffled cursing.

After almost a full two minutes the door is yanked open by an short (by Pz-Zazz standards), portly alien with a head-and face- full of bright orange hair. Tufts of hair stick out of the from his half-unbuttoned shirt, from under the cuffs, and from the bottom of his trouser legs. His beady brown eyes jerk back and forth rapidly, as if he has trouble focusing for more than a few seconds.

He glares up at the two robots for a few seconds before grunting and turning back into the dingy room. He leaves the door open, invitation enough as far as he's concerned, and shuffles back behind his desk. As he does, he avoids a precariously stacked pile of charts, a broken chair, and puddle of pungent liquid and broken glass on the floor.

Sniff, snort, cough

He sits down heavily, the chair creaking as he does so.

[Kup]

Kup looks down at Emirate Xaaron, than in at the strange, orange, harry alien. Finally he shrugs and, taking the open door as an invitation, steps into the office, also avoiding precariously stacked piles and mysterious puddles. He doesn't say anything quite yet, however, letting Emirate Xaaron take lead in the discussion.

[Emirate Xaaron]

Emirate Xaaron tries to take some cues from Kup in how to react to the alien. He doesn't radio Kup for advice, because for all Emirate Xaaron knows, the alien communicates via radio.

He smiles slightly, a reserved smile, and he holds out his hand to shake. The alien might have an acid touch, but Emirate Xaaron can show not fear in such a deal. He greets, "Hello, Stationmaster? I'm Emirate Xaaron, owner of the Event Horizon." So he doesn't own it per se. Close enough. "My team does work in pharmaceuticals. Could I interest you in anything?"

[SceneMod]

The Stationmaster's lip curls up in a grimace (or seems to. It's hard to tell with all that hair!). He does not take Xaaron's hand, but does start rummaging about through some paperwork on his desk.

"Event Horizon, Event Horizon...yeah, yeah, I got you here. Just came in, didn' cha?" cough, sniffle, snort "Can't say as I im-particular needs anything, but ya know, we're always glad to have drug guys stopping here, ya know." Eyeroll "I do need ya ta sign this wavier though ya see. Strictly park at your own risk, we are."

Sniiiiifffff

He shoves a sheaf of papers across the desk. It's a very detailed list of exactly what the station is libel for in case of accident, theft, or act of Universe (which is basically nothing) and what is the responsibility of the docking ship and its parties (which is nearly everything including damage to the station itself.)

"So's....you guys know how long you'll be staying with us and all? You get a discounted rate the longer ya stay, though in your case the discount'll not quite offset the extra we gotta charge for you being a high-risk ship."

"Name's Fetch, by the way," he says, as an afterthought.

Cough, cough, cough

[Kup]

Kup, assuming that odds are better that he'll be able to read what's in the document than Emirate Xaaron, reaches for the legal papers, then hesitates. He looks at the golden Autobot. "Erm... may I?" he asks before actually grabbing them. If Emirate Xaaron gives him the word, he'll look them over before handing them off to Xaaron himself.

[Emirate Xaaron]

"Charmed to meet you, Fetch," Emirate Xaaron replies, with an entirely straight face. He inquires innocently, "High risk ship? Whyever so?"

Perhaps because it is a warship full of angry robots, but he wants that to come out and be said.

Emirate Xaaron moves to lightly touch Kup on the arm, and he says quietly, "Please."

[SceneMod]

Fetch's beady eyes dart back and forth between Xaaron and Kup. He grimaces, one side of his face twisting up and making his hair stick out in random directions.

"What now, must be nice to have someone do your reading for ya. You must really be some la-ti-da high rollin' drug pimp. But then you are one shiny bastich, so I shouldn'ta been surprised."

Fetch makes a sound that's somewhere between a laugh and a cough, and all around raucous. Then he leans forward and snatches another paper from the middle of a teetering stack. The papers wobble, but don't fall.

"But don'tcha think that'll give you any kinda out, now, when it comes to paying up," he says shaking the form, "You both gotta sign this one saying you-" points paper at Kup "made sure he-" shakes paper at Xaaron fully understands all the information contained in that form you're lookin' over there."

He slaps the paper down in front of Xaaron, then leans back, scratching at his chest.

Sniiiiiiiiiiiiiiiffffffffffffffffffff, gasp, cough

"You think we stupid here or something, Em-r-ate? You got one ah the biggest ship we ever docked, all nice and new and shiny, and you say you sell 'pharm-e-suticales.' You lots all running around naked as Jay-and believe me, you don't wanna see Jay naked- and you show up right after some guys whats look a hella lot like you go all crash boom planetside. You know what that smells like ta me?"

Fetch turns his head and spits.

"Trouble. Trouble and deadbeats, 'cause if ya had any monies, you'd not be parking that sweet ride at the lowest rent garage in orbit."

"So, you'll be paying for maybe bringing me trouble, and for the extra I gotta put on your ship to keep ya from slippin' out without paying' the bill. And about that-"

Fetch sits up straight, peering intently at the two 'Bots.

"Don't even think about it. You won't like what happens if you try."

[Kup]

Kup can't help but avoid a snort as Fetch implies that Emirate Xaaron's paint job is actually gangster bling. He otherwise ignores the taunts, however, and looks over the contract.

"Not the greatest terms," he grumbles. "We're liable for... pretty much everything. Damage to the ship, including the result of station personel screw-ups, theft from the ship, whatever - they won't pay for nothing. Damage to the station as a result of docking the ship, even if it's their guys, say, not releasing the docking clamps at the right time or something like that. Terms of collection are pretty damned vague, too, if we go and default. They're saying they'll do it, they don't say how." His expression is grim as he hands the contract back towards Emirate Xaaron. "I've seen worse contracts, and at least they don't make any tries at hiding the unpleasantness in the fine print, but it wouldn't be my first choice, either."

That is, assuming there's a choice to be had. In their case, there really isn't.

He eyes Fetch as he waits for the Autobot leader to accept the forms, optics narrowed. Guy's brighter than he comes off as, Kup's sure of that, but he decides that saying as much out loud isn't a great idea at this moment. Besides, Emirate Xaaron can probably see that for himself.

[Emirate Xaaron]

Gangsta Xaaron, he be rollin'... out.

Emirate Xaaron puts his hands on the table, and he leans over, expression entirely flat. He explains in a calm, patient voice, "You have made a lot of ill-formed assumptions about me and mine, based off my appearance. Now. Selling pharmaceuticals is what we will be doing for legitimate money, as I do happen to have a chemist on staff."

He leans over more. "But what we are are soldiers. You're heard of warrior species? We're from one." He elbows Kup. "That's right. Every man, woman, and child a soldier." Okay, not in all realities, but in Emirate Xaaron's own, they were all made to fight against Unicron, in one way or another, though the message got lost. Kup is a soldier, however, so Kup hopefully won't contradict him.

"No gangsters, not pimps, not pushers. Know why I'm gold? Because it doesn't corrode. So I don't have to worry about coming down with rust in a damp foxhole. Can't say I care what artificial value may be placed on the metal elsewhere."

"Now. Soldiers like to gamble and pursue... other entertainments, I am sure you are well aware." Emirate Xaaron winks. "But that doesn't change the fact there are still guard watches to stand."

"So. You're going to knock half off the rate and all those fees in exchange for my men guarding this whole rust heap," his lips peel back in a sneer of derision, "instead of just our own ship."

Emirate Xaaron pulls back, arms crossed, expression very serious.