«Possum, I am presently assuming the following, correct me if I'm wrong:
1. We know how to make the pick up on Ganga's shipment (that "immediately" didn't seem to leave much time for an exchange of information, but apparently...)
2. Ponda has agreed to guard Ganga for the two days until the shipment arrives.
3. That call to Maya didn't get through.
“Well I have a good rifle now, but combat jumpsuits are good. I could use one.”
"Awn? Saw this is gawing taw be a frecsing HUGE insurgent cell, is it?" grumbles Sloor. Ah well, always buyers for stuff like this, just have to find them...
"TB, cawld you check him awver, see he survives till the fawrth? Set that brawken naws awh his awr sawmthing."
"Did you see how I stared him down? He was shaking in his boots! Fear me, fleshlings, fear ME!" chuckles TB to itself as it sets to work once more, its earlier impatience forgotten.
"Yeah, yeah," mildly agrees Sloor.
"Thanks fawr the suppawrt, tin can," he adds with a friendly knock on TB's housing (and this time he means it). The scoundrel strides over to the desk and props himself up on one of its edges.
Now that Ganga is out, Mack looks in Panda’s direction too. He cautiously says,“Okay guys we need to settle some things before we continue on. First about Panda, Sloor do you think he will stay bought? Maybe he should not be overhearing our strategy session. What he doesn’t know he cannot reveal.”
"It's Panda, nawt Panda," incomprehensibly corrects Sloor.
"Panda Pawandu, and I ain't asking him taw leave: the guy chaws lawyalty taw his hire awver betrayal awf client awnce tawday already, and I gawt taw say I frecsing *respect" that!" The besalisk crosses his bulging upper arms one over the other and dares Mack to contradict that statement.
“Second we need an inventory of everything we have scavenged for personal use and resale. We have finished taking everything we want from these bodies, yes?”
The besalisk mildly looks at the scattered weapons, unsearched bodies and unopened shipping crates...
"I take it that everything else is mine then?"
«Or did I miss that part?
“Third, I am not clear what everyone’s role here is. We are fast becoming an insurgent cell and we need to know each other a little better.
Sloor nearly chokes, transforming it into heartfelt laughter, tension release after the fight.
"Well," he finally manages,
"unless Switch and Ganga were wawrking WITH the Empire, blandy, I'd say we're fast becoming an imperial pawlice fawrce... But daw gaw awn." He pulls out one of his smelling stubs, breaking the auto-light bulb at the end (maybe this one he'll get to finish).
"I get that Sloor is an enterprising individual and can deal with people and negotiating. That droid of his has some medical treatment ability too. Since you mentioned going to see a doc, I guess he doesn’t perform surgery, though.” Mack gently feels the head wound that almost put him down permanently.
"Awh it cawld," grins the big alien,
"You'd just need a thawsand for the surgery kit and sawm really *strang* stuff taw build up your cawrage. It's game if you are."
Looking TB's way, you can see it rotating its sensor turret left, then right, repeatedly. Probably sound advice...
"For this gear Ganga seems to have coming, I do not think we should sit and wait days. It would appear that Maya and whomever she is working for, is looking for whomever is in the carbonite. The plan should be get him and get off of this station. Maya mentioned having transport taken care of. We should use it as soon as we get the 'cargo'. I am not waiting around to be caught byt the Empire. They seem to have some decent presence here."
"My bit finishes awnce the cargaw's delivered," informs Sloor matter-of-factly.
"And I sure ain't leaving statian withawt clawsing dawn my awngawings... Speakin awf, what abawt *your* jawb, Sra? Letting that gaw are you?" Always a disapointment to see potential creds fly away.
«He's refering to the one you hired him for, not your job with UG.
