Mick was a rather portly man, of indeterminate origin. Most of his friends betting pools favored his birthplace being somewhere in the cesspool of Neplisia, but he had yet to favor those wagers with certain information, so the pool only continued to grow in wait. He stood on the edge of one of the large circular elevator shafts, looking up at one of the platforms that was descending to the bottom floor on which he currently resided. Given that it had been his idea to set up some shops in this abandoned mining facility, no one had griped when he claimed one of the lift tunnels for his own, maintaining the only way in and out while charging docking fees. After all, It gave him the perfect place to set up his own little repair facilities for starships. Behind him, in one of the many hangar caverns that populated the walls of the bottom of the shaft, his mechanics were scurrying like ants over some old beaten transport craft. The owner didn't want certain authorities asking questions as to why he carried such heavy weaponry, bordering on the illegal, on a ship designed for transport. Mick didn't ask questions, and his men did a good job, thats why his customers had even followed him out here.
The platform finally reached his level, and the hatch lowered on the new arrival, a slim man, his face pocked with scars, walked out and greeted Mick with a wave. Mick gave a grunt, and started to waddle his form over to meet the other, mechanics coveralls stained with sweat, grease, and other nameless substances. Once they were close enough that the echos from the work didn't drown out their voices, Mick spoke in a deep grating tone that indicated years of smoking something quite toxic. "Hey Jim, got work for ma boys?"
The slender man opposite of him stood a good foot taller than him, and responded with a grin "Yeah, a 'customer' got a little feisty, and shot my ship full'a holes, the usual discount?"
Mick gave another grunt, and began to dig through his greasy pockets, pulling out a well-stained peice of paper, and his eyes began to scan through the list. "Mmm...two recent arrivals with your notes...good work, though maybah you should pass da notes to some good cooks instead of those worthless thugs we have living upstairs now, much more of dis chow and I'll haftah go on a diet." Mick grinned as he spoke the last and shoved the flimsy back into his pocket. "I'll getya some new ones when we send you back out, keep spreadin da word for ma." He gave a wave to some of the mechanics that were sitting on toolboxes and gave a deep cough before barking orders for them to start moving the latest job into a hangar.
Jim shook his head, and soon made his way to the nearby shack, which was basically a container crate with the word 'Payments' stencilled above the leather flap that acted as a door. After he paid the docking fee, maybe he would check up on those thugs...they had told him about some of the entertainment that was beggining to gather in the tunnels, and he hadn't felt a ladies touch in too long.
The platform finally reached his level, and the hatch lowered on the new arrival, a slim man, his face pocked with scars, walked out and greeted Mick with a wave. Mick gave a grunt, and started to waddle his form over to meet the other, mechanics coveralls stained with sweat, grease, and other nameless substances. Once they were close enough that the echos from the work didn't drown out their voices, Mick spoke in a deep grating tone that indicated years of smoking something quite toxic. "Hey Jim, got work for ma boys?"
The slender man opposite of him stood a good foot taller than him, and responded with a grin "Yeah, a 'customer' got a little feisty, and shot my ship full'a holes, the usual discount?"
Mick gave another grunt, and began to dig through his greasy pockets, pulling out a well-stained peice of paper, and his eyes began to scan through the list. "Mmm...two recent arrivals with your notes...good work, though maybah you should pass da notes to some good cooks instead of those worthless thugs we have living upstairs now, much more of dis chow and I'll haftah go on a diet." Mick grinned as he spoke the last and shoved the flimsy back into his pocket. "I'll getya some new ones when we send you back out, keep spreadin da word for ma." He gave a wave to some of the mechanics that were sitting on toolboxes and gave a deep cough before barking orders for them to start moving the latest job into a hangar.
Jim shook his head, and soon made his way to the nearby shack, which was basically a container crate with the word 'Payments' stencilled above the leather flap that acted as a door. After he paid the docking fee, maybe he would check up on those thugs...they had told him about some of the entertainment that was beggining to gather in the tunnels, and he hadn't felt a ladies touch in too long.
