Eavesdown Docks: Jewelry and Dustpans

The old warehouse was getting cluttered fast with the tools and supplies that had been laid in over the last few days. Looking around the place from his seat on one of the couches he’d just finished upholstering Nack could only shake his head in mild wonderment. The availability of materials here for crafting was really incredible. Used to the scarcity of... well... everything from his years on Blackburne Nack was pleasantly surprised at the ease with which he was able to find materials to produce furnishings here on Persephone.

Stacks of rusty steel girders lined the back of the workshop, all still good metal under some rust, and acquired for the cost of nothing more than hauling it away from a fallen down building? Nack had risked life and limb on scavenging missions into the wrecked cities of Blackburne Moon more than once for far less material than he had sitting around his workshop at the Eavesdown Docks, and this all acquired for nothing more than a few credits here and there, a favor to a construction foreman, or hauling off the trash himself.

There were thousands of shards of glass carefully organized atop the workbench he moved to; a bonding tool resting to the side while Nack carefully finished buffing our the last rust spots on the steel girder he had heated and bent and turned until it was a full circle.

Using the bonding tool to attach the first sliver of glass into the framework of the girderwheel, Nack heard a tap at the window of his workshop and looked up to see a pretty young girl standing outside, waving at him. She rushed around through the doors of the old warehouse and walked into the Firefly Furniture Factory shop beaming with a smile.

"Hey, Ms. Freyja. Glad you found your way here." Nack smiled at the girl, and set down the piece of glass he was working with.

"Hi Nack!" the bouncy girl answered, her short red dress swirling about her knees as she approached Nack’s workbench. "I’m here to help you sweep up, like you wanted."

A blank look crossed Nack’s face for a moment then he remembered offering the girl a job a few hours a week cleaning up the workshop. "Yeah,sorry about the mess, I’ve been busy making... stuff."

Freyja looked around the cluttered space and refrained from commenting, "Do you have a broom here? If not I can run back to the Church and get one."

Shaking his head and turning back to the workbench, Nack waved his hand in the general direction of the back of the shop, "Back there, broom. I think." Picking up the bonder and the glass Nack considered the wheel shapped girder. Freyja stopped behind Nack as she made her way over the jumbled pile of steel and glass plates to find the broom.

"That looks very complicated. You must be very good at your job," she opined as she studied the glass shards and the partially complete project.

Nack chuckled softly as he finished bonding the glass to the steel, setting down the tools and picking up a filthy rag to wipe his fingers free of sweat, welding burns dotting the back of his hands and up his forearms from his work earlier with the girders themselves. "I don't know about all that... but I got the idea to see if I could fabricate some furniture from this scrap steel girder I was able to get for nothing but hauling it away from the old building site."

A frown on the pretty face of the girl was followed by her offering a clean handkerchief to Nack, her eyes on his cut and burned hands, "Are you okay? Here, use this instead; it’s clean, I promise."

After Nack hesitatingly took the clean linen Freyja went through the obstacle course of materials in the workshop to find the broom. "Hey, Miss, I don’t want to get this all dirty"

"You can call me Freyja, and if you don't use the handkerchief then it loses its purpose."

Nack wiped his battered hands with the white cloth, "Well, as you say, Ms. Freyja. Welding is a bit tough on the flesh, but I heal fast."

The sound of sweeping came to Nack as he turned to face the back of the shop where the girl was industriously pushing dirt and glass shards towards the center of the room. Without looking up from her work the girl said, "Just Freyja, okay? Or I’ll have to start calling you Sir again." Smiling, the girl looked up to see Nack watching her from the work bench, "Why not wear gloves? Or would it make much difference?"

Nack blinked then considered that for a moment. "Well... gloves make it sort of hard to feel what you are workin' with. Metal and wood and stone, glass and crystal, you... sort of have to feel it, touch it, to make it... well.. to make it bend to your will, I guess. And... I heal fast, burns and cuts aren't anything."

The girl nodded then, not looking convinced but unwilling to argue the point. Sidestepping a piece of sheet metal Freyja then laughed and in a singsong recited, "Nick-Nack pattywack give a dog a bone, this old man came rolling home...See, I know a poem with your name too."

Nack laughed as well, shaking his head as he did so and turning back to the ring of steel and shards of glass. "You know, I think I may have heard that one." And killed men for singing it, he thought but kept to himself. "That does remind me though, I did promise to tell you the tale of the Brisingamen and lovely Freyja.

Freyja stopped sweeping and stepped closer to the workbench, her eyes going wide. "Will you? I’ve been dying of curiosity since you mentioned it."

She stepped closer to where Nack was working, the bonding tool being used to carefully join another piece of glass to steel and to more glass, painstakingly assembling what would be a coffee table.

Nack’s eyes were intent on the glass in his fingers as he worked, his voice was a bit of a murmur as he spoke, "Of course... well... here is how it was..."

((And if you don’t know the tale, here is a short, reasonably good version of it: http://library.thinkquest.org/C0118142/norsepan/freyjane.php))

Eavesdown Docks: Boxing Day

Sitting on the sealed crates stacked in front of the Osprey, Nack watched the traffic of the docks come and go.  While waiting could be tedious, at least here it was never really boring.  Pretty girls strolling by, furtive businessmen darting past, colonial families pulling their worldly possessions behind them looking lost... it was better than the Cortex for entertainment.

Occasionally an acquaintance showed up, stopping to discuss business or catch up on old times.

“Hello, Guv’nor.”   Duncan Cooperstone still looked the same as last time Nack had seen him, when he was pounding sand on that dustball moon out on the Rim.  Dressed the same too, and with that same ridiculous broombristle mustache. 

Nack grinned and pushed back his hat, “Duncan.  How’s it goin?”

Duncan walked up into the shade of the Osprey’s overhanging cabin, “It’s going well enough.  You see this?”  Duncan handed Nack a bit of cheap plas with an advert printed on it.

“Bareknuckle boxing matches, here in the docks, eh?”  Nack looked up from the plas sheet.  “Nope, hadn’t seen it… there much money in it?”

Duncan grinned and nodded, “There can be.  If you’re interested I’ll stop by here and take you to the warehouse later.  Cut me in on the purse if you beat me out for it, me being so generous as to bring you in and speak for you.”

“Roger that, comrade.” Nack flexed his fingers and rolled his heavy shoulders, considering spending the rest of the evening sitting here doing nothing.  “Yeah.  I could use some free coin.  What the fuck Dunc, I’m in.”

Walking down the rickety stairs into the basement of the warehouse, Nack had a sense of déjà vu.  How many brawls and fights in places like this over the years?  More than he could count easily.  Fence wired cage for a ring, a heavy bag to warm up on, a timer on the wall to count round times… the smell of disinfectant was strong in the air but still barely covering up the lingering tang of blood and urine.

Nack busied himself warming up, stretching strenuously till the tendons in his legs burned like hot wire.  Duncan went over to talk to his woman, Gabe, who had already taped up her hands and wrists for fighting.  Nack considered that while pushing the heavy bag around for a while, the muscles of his arms loosening up nicely, a sweat starting to glisten on his bare shoulders. 

As more people started arriving Nack wiped his face with his dirty white tank top then sat on his heels against the wall to study the crowd, picking out the fighters and the gamblers, the dandies and the thrill seekers.  Some long armed men in the crowd had Nack wondering if this was a good idea.  It had been a few years since the last time he was in a serious fight after all…

Nack spotted that little slip of a girl from Calina’s dress shop, Moon Starship.  The girl was excitedly chatting with another woman, obviously looking forward to the fights.  The click of hard boot heels on the stairs drew Nack’s attention as the Sheriff of the Docks descended into the gloomy basement, scanning the room and making note of the fighters herself.  The Sheriff gave a friendly nod to the unpleasant looking little man in the bowler hat who was running this show and took a seat on a beat up couch, obviously not here in any official capacity.  Nack caught her eye and nodded to her with a slight smile.

Duncan Cooperstone came over to where Nack was resting against the wall.  “Full dance card,” the heavily mustached man stated, looking around at the crowd.  Gabe Yazimoto stood next to Duncan, nodded at Nack then joined her man in studying the crowd.

“How’s business been, Duncan?”  Nack stayed sitting on his heels, not really caring to be sized up by any of the fighters he could see around the room taping up their hands and punching the heavy bag.

Gabe glanced at Duncan as the heavy featured man answered, “You know the score; where it better we'd not be doing this for coin.”

Nack could only nod agreement at that, hoping he wouldn’t draw Duncan in a match; wouldn’t be right beating up a man in front of his woman just for some coin, even a fat purse like the one the local syndicate man was putting up for tonight.

Nack took his time unbuckling the thigh holsters on each leg, listening to the unpleasant little man with the bowler hat give out the rules.  One three minute round.  No knock out means both lose.  No weapons.  No other rules.  Same the ‘verse over.  Holding the pistol holsters carefully coiled in one hand Nack dropped them off in the lockbox near the score table and gave his name to the little man.  

The bowler hat tilted up, “You heard the rules, right?  My name is HwuanDanJoe and I run this dock so play this game right and don’t be cute.”

Nack nodded at HwuanDanJoe, “Right.  Just sign me up.”

Walking away, the sound of the little man greeting Gabe as she approached his table came to Nack’s ears.  “How about yourself, Ranger, you're usually good for a canvas dive…”

That man must own half the ruffians on this dock or sure as hell Gabe would have killed his sorry ugly ass by now.

“Welcome one and all to Joe's Dance At The CockPit, you all know why we are here...so let's not waste breath best spent countin' money.  Mister Barnes, first name of the night on the Bastard's dance card.  And Mister Marc Komarov will be matched against you”

The brawny young man named Marc stood, "So, good sirs and misses, are we all talk, or are we going to get bloody soon?"

Nack was really starting to dislike HwuanDanJoe’s voice.  And drawing the first fight of the night was pure crapluck for sure.  Waiting a bit and letting a few others get bloody, a few minor injuries to shake up the neophyte’s in the lists, gives a fighting man an edge.  But going first… there were different ways to play it for better money, all equally bad or equally good depending on your view.  Watching the lanky younger man climb into the ring Nack started calculating which way to go with this one; draw out the fight, barely win, get better odds next round?  Fast finish so the competition can’t evaluate his skill thoroughly?

Looking at the long muscular arms on this Marc fellow, Nack knew which way he’d have to go.  The ring of a cheap bell and Nack stepped forward deliberately, raising his fists.  The little Blackburnian Leet which, as always, gripped Nack’s shoulder piped out in it’s clear voice, “U n0t kaCh m3, i phast!”  Nack could only shake his head and mutter, “For fuck’s sake, Leetie shut up...”

Marc grinned at his friends in the audience and yelled, “Let’s rumble!”  The lad was enthusiastic; Nack had to give him that.  Throwing punches like a windmill, barely bothering to block or dodge.  Nack let the fight go on for almost a minute then rounded on the young man hard, putting him down with a flurry of fast blows.  The kid didn’t get up from the bloody mat as Nack walked out of the ring, ignoring the sting from his bloody knuckles, the clear voice of Sheriff Ghoststar talking to HwuanDanJoe made it to Nack’s ears as he sat on his heels in the corner of the basement.  “I’ll put another twenty paper on Mister Barnes there on his next fight.”

Always nice to be of service to the local law.

Fights rolled by one after another.   Nack watched the matches with varying degrees of interest.  The girls were sort of fun to watch, some were pretty vicious fighters indeed.  

Gabe Yazimoto drew her first round fight against Valiant Vuckovic, a local Corporate guy who ran a restaurant and some cargo craft.  Nack was surprised that the fight card was mixing women and men in the same matches, that was not explained at the start of this evening and Duncan never mentioned it either. 

Not that Nack had issues with fighting a woman if it was needful.  There’d been plenty of times where a hard bitten crew woman from a smuggler ship thought she had something to prove in Nack’s bar and ended up picking herself up off the floor with looser teeth than she’d had when she came in with her crewmates for a drink.  But this wasn’t over something important, wasn’t fighting over principle or protection; bareknuckle boxing was just… entertainment.  Something done for a little extra coin and to break the monotony of waiting around the docks for cargo. 

Watching Gabe bounce around on the balls of her feet, the lithe wiry woman shadowboxing to keep her muscles warmed up, Nack had a very bad feeling about this whole affair.

That bad feeling got even worse once the fight between Gabe and Val started in earnest.  Val was a big man, with the advantage of reach over the slight woman but Gabe was wickedly fast and had no fear.  When Val’s left fist crashed into the side of Gabe’s face she came back around without losing a beat and put her legs behind the uppercut that dropped Valiant Vukovic from the fighting ranks for the night, and likely for the next few weeks from the sound of his body hitting the hard mat.  Hawking pink spittle onto the ground as she bounced out of the ring, Gabe was obviously ready for more.  Duncan Cooperstone met her and picked her up, grinning like a fool under his black mustache.

“That’s the way, darlin’!” he spun her around once then set her down amid the congratulations of her friends and shipmates.  “Go jiejie!" shouted the medic from Gabe and Duncan’s ship, the Raivenn.  The pretty little gal, Emma Ditko was her name as Nack seemed to recall, didn’t hardly look old enough to drink, much less be here where there was so much blood and violence. 

Duncan offered a hand to help Gabe’s defeated opponent off the mat.  “Now you see why I don’t argue with her, eh, Val?”

HwuanDanJoe’s voice cut through the hubbub around Duncan and Gabe, “And let's see... be a shame to break up a happy home.  Cooperstone, step up."

Duncan took his time putting away his hat and taking off his thick blue workshirt.  A burly bull of a man in his middle years, Nack had seen Duncan in fights before; he packed a hell of a right punch.  But Duncan was a good 10 years older than Nack and his opponent for his match was a young rake named Claudio.  Nack watched the match carefully because either of these could be his next match.  Watching Claudio duck and weave around Duncan’s haymakers while punishing the big man with rapid fire shots to the midsection Nack could only shake his head.  Emma Ditko was hiding her face behind Gabe’s back before the end of the match; Gabe watching the match with barely checked fury gleaming in her eyes.  When Duncan dropped to the mat, one hand holding him from going completely prone, Gabe rushed forward and gripped the chain link fence like she could tear it open to help her man.  “Dunc…”

 

Claudio was receiving the cheers of the spectators and his friends.  Yanto Nayar shouted out “Good fight!” and others echoed the sentiment as Duncan looked around from the mat.

“Where’d he go?” Duncan’s mumbled words obviously tore at Gabe’s heart, she met him at the gate into the ring putting a hand on his thick forearm and looking up at his bloodied face, “Bao bei…”

“Thought you’d be bored of that by now!” came HwuanDanJoe’s voice, “You can’t keep running around with these young ones you know, Cooperstone!”

Nack calculated that the killing power of Gabe’s glare at the little man in the bowler hat should have been good enough to finish him off.  And kill his family.  And their friends.  And everyone who’d ever heard of him.  And all of their friends too.  Yet there he still sat, living and breathing, a smirk on his potato of a face.

Nack just shook his head, feeling for Duncan.  It’s a hard thing, getting older, when you’re a proud man and a fighter in your heart.  Duncan was a real Browncoat in the war, the war Nack wasn’t old enough to get into at the time.  Watching a young punk like Claudio take the man down was not the highlight of Nack’s evening here in this sweaty basement.

“Kling!  You are up.”

A pale young man stepped into the ring, all wired energy and fast feet.  The man who was called up to fight him, Kennet Deerhunter, had the look of a Borderworld nobleman’s son, fine hair and finer clothes, though they were black leathers and silver buckles all over.  From the crowd reaction Nack guessed he was part of Yanto Nayar’s crew.  He must have had at least a foot of height on pale Kling and that much reach as well.  Nack could barely pay attention to the fight though, sitting on his heels by himself in the corner, watching Duncan with Gabe and Emma, the medic patching up Duncan’s worst abrasions and wrapping hard tape around the man’s barrel of a chest.  Nack thought of his wife, Lauralai; where in Blue Sun sector she might be at that moment.  Maybe sitting at a hotel enjoying the pool at the conference she was attending; drinking those funny colored drinks with umbrellas in them.  Nack missed his wife then, enough to make his heart clench in his chest.  Nack never lost a fight when Lauralai was at his side, never once got out drawn or out fought when she was backing him.  Being here in this reeking cellar on a far away world from where he and Lauralai grew up, with blood on the mat and money changing hands constantly between sweaty strangers, Nack wondered how his feet had brought him down the road that led here, to this life.

 

The crash of the tall man, Kennet Deerhunter, as he bounced off the chainlink fence then impacted with the mat caught Nack’s attention; somehow he’d missed how pale little Kling had taken down the much larger and more powerful Kennet.  Cursing himself for a fool Nack forced himself to pay more attention to the fights and spend less time woolgathering.

Nack watched the next fight, surprisingly featuring the local Law, Sheriff Kris Ghoststar, against the woman who ran a tattoo business near the docks, River Starsmith.  The entire three minutes went by and the bout was called a double loss, but both women were smiling and laughing as they exited the ring.   Nack smiled up at Kris as the redheaded woman walked by, “You all right, Sheriff?”

She laughed as she wiped her face with a clean towel, “Yeah.  It was fun while it lasted.”

Nack started to join the laughter until he noticed the second round of matches had started.  Gabe Yazimoto had drawn Kling but was rubbing her ankle while it was being checked by Emma.  Gabe looked a bit white around the lips, “I might have to forfeit.  Busted my damn ankle.”

Relief flooded through Nack like a splash of clean water as he desperately tried to keep it from showing on his face.

The money he’d already put on this fight not coming back to him multiplied by a pleasing factor was obviously on HwuanDanJoe’s mind as he drawled, “Your old man worried you’re going to go down the same way he did, eh, Yazimoto?”

Gabe got to her feet and pushed past her medic and the rest of the crowd to walk to the ring with barely a limp, her face set in hard lines, “Can take these fellas on one leg.  Fine.  I’ll fight.”

“Kling!” a pleased HwuanDanJoe called out, “Get on in there and let’s see if you still have that fighting spirit.”

The pale young man with the angry expression shrugged and walked towards the ring.  “Sure,” was his only comment.

The fight went on for so long that even a hardened fighter like Nack could barely stand to watch the end of it.  Gabe limped out the victor but barely and whatever it was that had Kling’s face in a permanent expression of anger was obviously not on his mind anymore as he was carried out of the ring by his friends, blood dripping from his hair to leave a trail on the concrete slab of the basement.  Gabe went over to collapse into a chair, now being tended to by Duncan who was obviously very concerned for his woman, bruises already darkening her face badly, one eye almost swollen shut.

Nack fought several more rounds; none were competitive.  He stuck to the same strategy in each; knock the opponent out so fast that none of the other fighters could weigh his strengths and weaknesses well enough to game plan against him.  Each man was big and strong, probably a well known rowdy in his own circle of friends, but as rough a place as the Eavesdown Docks could be at times it wasn’t a pimple on the ass of a day in the life back on Blackburne at the downport.  As Nack sat on his heels after another match wiping his face with a dirty old rag he was pleased to notice only sweat on the cloth, no blood.  Some bruising around the middle tomorrow, that last fellow landed more than a few solid body blows, but that wasn’t going to be a big slow down in any upcoming fight for Nack.  The only thing left now was to find out who he’d be fighting for the championship and the fat purse that smarmy little shit HwuanDanJoe was offering for this party.

Nack stood in the ring, waiting for his opponent to be called up.  He’d lost track of the other fights over the hours, trying to just stay focused and uninvolved.  Bloody cuts across his knuckles bore evidence of his own matches won and it looked pretty good for taking home the prize tonight.  At least all this wasn’t for nothing was Nack’s thought.  Could do some good with that money, more good than HwanDanJoe would ever see done with it for sure.

Gabe stepped into the ring to face off against Nack, bouncing lightly on the balls of her feet and punching at the air; obviously ready and willing to get this match on, Nack’s lips pressed into a thin line.  Rubbing his knuckles absently, ignoring the very soft coo’ing of his pet Leet who clung to his shoulder, Nack watched the wiry woman talk to her friends though the chain links, cocky and confident in spite of the bruises mottling her pretty face.

Nack looked behind him through the chain links, at a crowd of faces that were strangers to him. 

No friends, no crew, no family. 

"Come on!  Let's fight!" Gabe's voice carried over the rowdy crowd which was enthusiastically betting on this championship match.

“You.  HwuanDanJoe,” Nack addressed the little criminal in the bowler hat through the chain links of the fence.  “I broke my fucking hand against that last guy’s face.  I'll... have to forfeit.”

The outcry from the crowd washed over Nack, accusations of cowardice rolled past him unheard as he stepped down out of the ring and to the stairway, shouldering his way through the crowd.  Nack walked out of the old building and didn’t look back.

 

Eavesdown Docks: A new Sheriff in town.

The cargo crates stacked in front of the ship weren’t the most comfortable seats, but they’d do until the last cases of whiskey showed up.  At least the weather on Persephone was reasonably mild; waiting in the cold was never Nack’s favorite thing to do.  It never got cold back home on Blackburne.  Well, at least the company was nice here on Persephone; Nack entertained himself by fondly recall evenings spent with Calina Tereshchenko.

Half dozing and leaning against a sealed box, Nack waited.  Ten cases of top grade whiskey at a good price, even after paying the dock ruffians to leave his cargo alone, was a hell of a deal and more than worth the trip to Persephone.  Eavesdown Docks were a good place to do this sort of business, one of the best.  The click of boot heels striking tarmac roused Nack from his doze, his eyes catching the black uniform of the local law.

“Nice badge.  You the new sheriff?” Nack stood up and faced the woman who was walking his way.  Shiny new uniform, gold badge, black leather boots polished to a shine; she gave Nack a professional smile and approached the landing pad assigned to The Osprey.

“Hello,” her voice was smooth and friendly.  Too smooth and friendly to Nack’s ears and too young by far.  Young cops are never a good thing; all too often they are still fired up with Law and Justice. 

She stopped a handful of feet away from where Nack stood, his tattooed arms folded across his chest.  “Good afternoon, yes, I am the new Sheriff for the Eavesdown Docks district.”

Nack nodded, “Office still at the same location?  In case I need to pay a parking ticket or something?”

The cop twitched a smile, “Yup, same office, just new management.”

Nack’s lips didn’t echo the smile.  If anything they curled in irritation.  “Wonderful, glad to hear it.  A whole new crew to have to bribe.  A fellow just can’t catch a break in this ‘verse, can he.”

Watching her face to catch her reaction to the words, Nack shifted to sit on one of the sealed cargo containers, pulling one leg up so he could rest his thick arms on his knee.  The Sheriff lifted an eyebrow and replied, “Well, it looks like you cleared customs without a problem.”

“Yes ma’am, of course.”

The woman looked Nack over for a moment then examined the cargo containers scattered around, “So, nothing to cause me any problems, right?”

Weary of police and fencing with words, Nack stood up and faced the Sheriff directly.  “Look, I’ll be blunt, ma’am.  I’m not here to smuggle anything dangerous onto your dock. I own a bar out on a rim world. Things are scarce there. Hard to come by. And if sometimes it means picking up necessities at a dock like this where the previous owner of those necessities isn't aware of where they are being sold... sometimes that is the way of things.”

Nack paused a moment from his little speech, watching the Sheriff’s face, and then continued, “I just need to know what cut your office requires to keep from busting my balls.”

The Sheriff, and yes she was definitely young, cast a look up and down the docks, seemingly amazed that someone was openly and bluntly speaking of bribing a public official.  Instead of responding to the question from the ship’s captain she extended a hand, “I’m Sheriff Ghoststar.  And you are…”

Nack took her hand in his and gave it a shake, “Nack Barnes, Captain and owner of The Osprey.”

Retrieving her hand from Nack’s grip the Sheriff looked up at the cockpit of the small courier vessel and along its battered rusty hull, then back to its Captain.  “Well, Captain Barnes, it’s good to meet you.”

Nack’s lips pursed in slight annoyance and impatience, “I hope it’s good to meet you, but that’s up to you, ma’am.”

“You don’t really do ‘subtle’ do you, Mister Barnes.”  Sheriff Ghoststar made a bit of an effort to put on her “Cop” expression and address the issue of most concern, “I run a clean dock.  So long as you aren’t out raping and murdering you’re okay by me, Captain.”

Nodding his head, Nack sat back down on a crate, “Then we’ll be fine, Sheriff.  I’m not bringing danger to you or yours, just… buying things from folks who might not be the proper owners.”  Scratching his chin, a few days of stubble along the jaw line, Nack continued, “It’s a hard life out there, ma’am, and we do what we must.  Most times that involves paying off the local law.”

Shaking her head in bafflement at this continued discussion of bribery, Sheriff Ghoststar then shrugged, “Look, as long as the purple bellies aren’t coming down on me for what goes on here…”

A grin broke out on Nack’s face at that.  “Well, that’s always in everyone’s interest, isn’t it?  Avoiding any… official entanglements.”  Nack was relieved to see the Sheriff’s agreeing nod.

“Sounds good to me, Captain.”

“Well, Sheriff, most of what I come here to buy is fine liquor, wines, sometimes foodstuffs.  I’ll make sure the occasional case of good drink finds its way to your office, ma’am.”

The Sheriff smiled at that.  “Much obliged, Captain.  I think that would suit very nicely. 

As the Sheriff began to turn to walk away, Nack caught her attention, “Sheriff.  I wish you well in yer job here.  But… a bit of free advice, if you won’t take offense.”

Her head tilted a bit as she stood waiting, “Okay, sure, Captain Barnes.  What is this advice?”

Nack took a deep breath and let it out in a long slow sigh, “Ma’am.  If I might I’d ask that you keep in mind that most of us ain’t got no malice in us for the law, not really.  We’re just tryin’ to get by in this ‘verse.  Keep that in mind, eh?”

Sheriff Ghoststar considered that for a moment and nodded, “I’ll keep that in mind, Captain.  Thank you for your time and I wish you well in your endevours.  Stay lucky.” 

With that she turned and walked on to the next landing platform to continue her rounds.  Nack took a moment to appreciate the tightness of her uniform as she walked away then smiled to himself and leaned back on the crates, waiting for the rest of his cargo to arrive so he could get back home to Hale’s Moon.