Legitimate Cargo

[Hamish McNair]

C O R E L L I A​

CORONET CITY​

Spaceport​

​

"How're you doing down there?"

The question flooded the inner compartments of the Century Pigeon with a fuzzy register that was common with PA systems. Hamish released the transmit button on the cockpit communicator, scratched the stubble on his jaw and awaited a reply.

"Don't rush us, cap'. We'll let you know when she's done and done right, see," came his answer, moments later.

Hamish rolled his eyes and returned the communicator to its cradle. Time was of the essence when it came to bypassing CorSec. Getting by their screening terminals was easy enough, but it was the manned search stations that worried Hamish. There was a thirty second window whilst the officers changed shifts and that was when you gunned whatever illegitimate cargo you had through the arrival station.

That shift change was approaching, and if Ham and his crew missed it, they'd have to wait another six hours before trying again. That wouldn't please their employer in the slightest.

A few minutes passed before Hamish got fed up. He stopped leaning against the cockpit's doorway, did a neat 180 and marched down to the cargo bay.

"Perfect timin'," a burly black man uttered as Hamish entered. Ham just smirked and hit a shiny red button, setting into motion a chain of events that resulted in the cargo bay door being lowered.

Smack bang in the middle of the cargo bay was a miniature ATV with a small tray bed mounted on the back. On the tray bed were crates of various sizes, some filled with contraband, others completely legitimate. Ham mounted the ATV, gunned the engine, then announced quite plainly, "In the unlikely event that my baby is impounded, just run away. I don't need you all confessing to the countless misdemeanors we've committed..."

And with that, he was off and out, on route to the spaceport's exit.

 

[Beowoof]

Lieutenant Spritejägare was on for a six-hour quality control shift at Coronet Spaceport. Lately, CorSec was alternating her shifts rather evenly between street beats and inbound-outbound flight security. There were so many points to cover, and the centralized law enforcement agency provided a lot of variance in jobs from day-to-day. It was enough to keep one on their toes but not too big of a deal. Another day, another drug bust.

Spritejägare had just clocked in and was on her way out to the imports/exports checkpoint, taking a mediocre pace. She was in no hurry. Most of the shipments got clogged up at customs and merchant registration anyways, and there were lazy delays between outgoing cargo shuttles. It could be entertaining to hear all their insults by the time they got to the station and leave them unsatisfied with her indifferent responses.

Now, this guy looked to be in a bit too much of a hurry for her taste. Time to flex that strong arm of the law and dig its nose into whatever he was up to. As the ATV neared her position along the shuttling path, Spritejägare raised her right hand and tapped the index of her left against the grip of her holstered short model DH-17, signaling for the driver to bring his vehicle to a standstill. "What's the rush, sir? Did you get clearance from registration?"

[member="Hamish McNair"]

 

[Hamish McNair]

She emerged from the shadows like a... Like a completely unexpected entity emerging from the shadows. At least, that's what it seemed like in Hamish's mind. The CorSec officer had probably been in his eyesight for the past thirty seconds or so, he was just lost in the mental Olympics of maintaining a rather casual appearance. Unfortunately, trying to be inconspicuous had the opposite effect.

A deep frown graced Hamish's facial features for a moment before being replaced with a somewhat neutral expression. He hated interruptions nearly as much as he hated bureaucracy and at this point in time, he was only annoyed at the interruption. There had been no mention of registration clearance yet.

The ATV's engine wailed and died down as Hamish guided the vehicle to a stop. A low rumble radiated from its engine, filling the silence before little miss CorSec said her dastardly words. Ham struggled to maintain his neutral expression, evident in the twitching of his right eyelid. In an effort to cease the giveaway, he non chalantly rubbed it a few times with the back of his hand. Composure regained, he smiled politely and held eye contact with the officer.

"Sorry if I was tearing up your lovely spaceport, ma'am. In fact, now that you've stopped me, I'd be happy to sit and chat," he cooed, leaning forward onto the ATV's control panel.

[member="Malin Spritejägare"]

 

[Beowoof]

Oh yes. This guy was up to something, or her parents weren't Lorrdian. She could read through that smooth maneuver with his eye. Spritejägare relaxed her right arm but maintained contact between her blaster and fingertips, returning a knowing nod and a false look of delight. Not that he was not good-looking or anything, but she liked her job. "Since we seem to have gotten off to such a fine start here, I'd like to ask you to remove yourself from your vehicle."

Touching the talk button on her hip-mounted comm unit, 'Little Miss CorSec' radioed in. "Spritejägare. Minor situation. May be a little late." She shrugged and smiled like 'minor situation' meant 'spilled some coffee'. No need to be unfriendly--at least, not yet. She slouched a little, disguising her full height and hopefully making this ordeal seem casual.

Sometimes the best way to go about these checks was to just get the person in question to ramble without even directly mentioning their suspicious behavior or asking what was in that gun-shaped case of theirs. "Guess you may have noticed we've upped our security. How you like it?"

[member="Hamish McNair"]

 

[Hamish McNair]

Okay, Ham's parents weren't all-knowing body language experts (maybe they were, actually. Who knows?) but he did have an exceptional gut and that gut told him something was amiss. Why was she acting relaxed with fingertips on her blaster? The answer... Was in the question. Acting. Hamish's gut relayed this information to his brain through the exceptional medium of sensation, and Ham never mistrusted his gut.

Despite this, the legendary Ham Sandwich removed himself from his vehicle, all the while maintaining eye contact and a faint smirk. However, he didn't remove himself entirely. Instead, he leaned his ass against the vehicle's chassis and slowly inserted both of his hands into his trouser pockets, thumbs hanging over the lip in a cocky fashion. Right now, he was the epitome of relaxed. At least, he thought he was. A bead of sweat ran down his spine in defiance to that statement, threatening to make him shiver.

In response to the officer's question, Hamish raised an eyebrow and looked around casually. This display was followed by a shrug then, after he'd returned his gaze to meet the officer's, "Never noticed." To top it all off, he smiled innocently.

"... Unless, of course, you were hired recently. In which case," he raised both eyebrows, eyed her over and nodded for added effect. "I like."

[member="Malin Spritejägare"]

 

[Beowoof]

Spritejägare had to admit, he was doing one of the best jobs playing cool that she had witnessed in her time as a security officer. She watched as he dismounted his ATV, revealing his true height. He was a few centimeters taller than the Lieutenant, and she took this as a cue to stand up straight and show him that, despite his decent size, she would not be a simple job to take down either.

She noted his hand movements, immediately digging into his pants pockets. She made sure that he left his opposable appendages visible. As long as his thumbs did not enter his pockets, he would not be able to procure any objects that could be considered substantial weaponry.

The CorSec agent smirked as the subject complimented her. They always tried to do something like that. Some of them were being completely honest, while most were just trying to get off easy. Whether it was pure flattery or honest sincerity, she might as well accept the appraisal. No harm in that. "Thanks," she acknowledged with the thinnest of smiles and a quick shrug.

This cop had never encountered Mister Smooth before, though she supposed there was nothing she could convict him on for pretending to be a frequent flyer. She maintained full eye contact, hoping to catch the exact moment his irises betrayed a lie. Spritejäger was going to get to the bottom of this. "So you're a regular. Whatcha bring with you this trip?"

[member="Hamish McNair"]

 

[Hamish McNair]

The almighty gut tightened ever so slightly as Malin stood up straight. Things were getting serious now, whether Hamish was conscious of the body language battle or not. He never lost eye contact, which was a good thing, but the nervous energy building within the man forced his right hand to scratch his right thigh briefly through the pocket. Energy released, back to business. He maintained his smirk, despite her obvious disinterest in the complimentary department.

Maybe she likes the ladies, too, Ham thought, his mind briefly filled with imaginative images of a sexual nature.

A split second later and those images were replaced with dismay as he realised the time window to gun his ATV through the terminal was approaching quickly. If he didn't wrap things up here in the next minute or so, he'd be making a very late delivery indeed. If luck was really out to get him, he might even end up sitting in a holding cell for the night. Now that... That would suck.

"Yeah, I like to drop by every month or so. Hike through the highlands, sample some whiskey. Y'know, Tourist-y stuff," Ham replied to the CorSec lady, doing his best to remain calm and collected. He wasn't lying, he did try to make it to Corellia in his spare time. He did leave out the major reason for his visits, though, and that was searching. Hamish practically knew nothing about himself except for his name, and that name was derived from some of the first settlers on Corellia. Still, no answers had yet been discovered.

"You born here or did you just fall out of the sky and decide CorSec was the way to earn a living?"

[member="Malin Spritejägare"]

 

[Beowoof]

This game was getting a little old, but Spritejägare had no problem standing out here. Who wants to sit at the checkpoint all day, anyway? Still, it was probably a good time to actually get down to business, because she did not need to keep anyone waiting.

She raised an eyebrow as the subject's right hand went into motion, back and forth. That was not awkward at all. "Mmhm, tourist-y stuff." Probably a little more than just hiking and drinking, eh? Malin was not exactly immune to the males. She could appreciate a nice masculine form. But she was strictly business when on-duty, and this one had 'bad boy' written all over him.

Spritejägare was suddenly aware that this conversation had transformed from a sort of interrogation into a little chat. She frowned and decided to ignore his red herring inquiry, shifting the tables back in her favor. "Let's talk about your name," she pressed, motioning her free hand towards the crates on the bed of his vehicle. "And I think I'm going to need to look in your containers there."

[member="Hamish McNair"]

 

[Hamish McNair]

Eye contact was broken as Hamish's gaze followed the motion of her hand. He gazed at the crates for a moment or two, uttering, "Name's Calvin. Cal for short," he said, returning his gaze to the officer soon after. "Yours?"

It was probably lucky Ham's gaze had been redirected whilst he lied about his name. I mean, he was a superb liar, but nothing hides the iris dilation, nothing. Of course he didn't know she was of Loridian ancestry, so lying to her face was inevitable. That said, after stating his name, he reached into his pocket for real and withdrew some plasti-paper. Expertly forged identification papers, with the name 'Calvin Darklighter' plastered across the top. The officer would be hard pressed identifying a discrepancy in the papers, but hey, anything was possible.

He held them out for her to take before standing up and away from the ATV, already moving towards the tray bed and the crates. Another bead of sweat rolled down his back, this time successful in making him shiver slightly. He sighed softly, eyed a random crate, and keyed a code into its digital lock. A beep signaled the code was correct and Ham removed the lid.

He nearly smiled when the contents of the crate was revealed. Children's toys. He'd luckily picked a crate full of non-contra.

"Take a look for yourself. All like this," he said, eyes still on the contents. He motioned to it with his hand, before looking to the officer and smirking.

[member="Malin Spritejägare"]

 

[Beowoof]

Kraf. Conveniently, the subject had turned his eyes to look at the containers in question, the flitting motion disguising the change in his cornea. She swore he was lying, but there was just too much reasonable doubt considering the rapid movement of the iris. It was too quick to track, even for someone as honed in such diagnostic skills as she was. Of course, it was her fault that she had allowed such an opportunity. She should have waited to mention his cargo until after he had given his name so she could properly read him. Get on your game, now.

Cal produced his documents, handing them over to her without a pause. The license and identification material seemed legit; nothing out-of-line as far as she could tell--and she could tell a lot. Unless she wanted to spend time dealing with customs--and possibly the ambassadorial ministry, as even customs could be fooled in some cases--Spritejägare considered Cal's papers to be clear. But with each move he made, Spritejägare became more and more confident that she had assessed him correctly and that he was trying to pull the wool over her eyes. He shivered. She noticed.

The CorSec agent stalked behind and then sidled up next to Cal after he had unlocked the crate. Really, if he was just smuggling in liquor bottles from some embargoed planet, she would not hold him. Some things are not worth the time or annoyance for either parties. Half expecting this to be the case, she was puzzled to see this 'hiker' bringing in a haul of toys.

"Toys," she remarked flatly but obviously puzzled. Her green eyes darted to the side to check Cal's reaction. "Mind if I pick a couple up?" It sounded like she was asking a question. But, of course, it was not really question.

[member="Hamish McNair"]

 

[Hamish McNair]

The illustrious Ham Sandwich shook his head just once, shrugged, and said rather cheerfully, "Go right ahead, sweetheart." He folded his arms and shifted his weight into a more relaxed stance, looking around the spaceport as he did so. It seemed as if his whole 'situation' didn't exist. Beings of all shapes and sizes waltzed past, oblivious to the small investigation currently taking place. Ham nearly felt a bit hurt, but then decided that no attention was ten times better than being eyeballed by every living thing this side of the galaxy.

If Malin took her chance to reach forward and grab a couple of the toys, Ham would take that opportunity to gain a better understanding of her rear end. Y'know, for science.

[member="Malin Spritejägare"]

 

[Beowoof]

Toys. They were a common ruse in smuggling. Sometimes spice or illegal technology would be buried underneath them or even hidden inside the playthings. CorSec had recorded a number of these cases in recent years, though the blonde had not seen it herself--yet. But things might change in about five seconds.

Spritejägare leaned over the edge of the crate and obtained a couple of the articles, then took a step back to examine them. She caught Cal's glances from out of the corner of her eye, but was indecisive on how to react. That sort of behavior was really annoying, and yet she supposed it was sort of a compliment at the same time. She just sent him a frown, then proceeded to shake and tap on the toys--even inspect them for residue of any sort.

Both of the children's trinkets passed her visual examination, slightly relieving and yet frustrating her at the same time. He had to be hiding something, but she could only push things so far. Carefully returning the toys to their box, Spritejägare determined that she could reasonably ask him to show the contents of one more crate. If there was nothing to be found there either, then she would just have to let him push onwards towards the exit checkpoint. She pointed randomly at a container on the opposite end of the ATV's loading bed. "I'd like to see what's in that one, too."

[member="Hamish McNair"]

 

[Hamish McNair]

Her frown was met with a grin, Ham's expression the embodiment of cheeky. "Sorry," he said, tone very much sarcastic. Of course he wasn't sorry. The only one who should be sorry was little miss CorSec -- sorry that she didn't go into underwear modelling. They get paid a lot, y'know. Maybe more so than the job that requires people to sift through children's toys.

"I like to help the kids. Y'know that children's hospital nearby? Yeah, dropping these off there," Ham said, rubbing the back of his neck as he did so. More of a filler, another attempt to throw the heat off his back. He was blatantly lying, though. All of these toys cost a handful of credits at a charity shop on Coruscant. They'd be dumped after the job.

Ham folded his arms at her request, obviously not too keen on revealing another box. There was a 1/3 chance that the box would be stuffed to the brim in contraband, which would likely end in Ham's arrest. Nah, better to leave it unopened.

"Haven't you seen enough? Not satisfied?" He asked, attempting to sound as innocent as possible.

[member="Malin Spritejägare"]

 

[Beowoof]

Spritejägare rolled her eyes as Cal 'apologized'. Whatever. He was keeping his hands to himself, so there was not much harm he was causing other than a minor irritation. And it was in no way the worst kind of attention one could obtain.

He was lying so hard. From his eye movements to his shifting respirations to the movement of his hand, he discredited everything he spoke about the children's hospital. Spritejägare had no idea what he was hiding, but it was not Little Dewback action figures.

"I don't know. Have I seen enough?" How he answered that question--if he even could--might very well determine whether or not she persisted in the search. The cop relaxed, placing both hands against her hips in anticipation of whatever assuredly amusing response she would receive.

[member="Hamish McNair"]