>>6131223The shipyard’s port authority clears you quickly, the comm chiming with a short confirmation and a set of precise docking instructions.
“Proceed to berth 7-A along the designated markers,” the voice instructs with the same curt, measured tone. “Welcome to Sertain Solutions’ primary shipyard. Comply with all protocols or be subject to immediate removal.”
“Charming hosts,” drawls Trykov, a smile on his lips as the comm goes silent.
As the <span class="mu-i">Albatross</span> drifts closer, the enormity of the yard becomes even more pronounced. Hulking freighters drift past in slow, ponderous orbits, each one laden with plating, wiring and fuel. Smaller ships zip by, their holds packed with workers, supply crates, or whole bulkheads destined for the empty skeletons of starships looming in drydock. Through the viewport, suited figures cling to the exposed innards of ships-in-progress, welding, inspecting and piecing everything together with slow, methodical precision.
“Berth coming up,” Suzel mutters, narrowing his gaze as he eases the ship into alignment with the docking clamps. “Standby…standby…”
The <span class="mu-i">Albatross</span> shudders as they engage, locking into place with a solid, reassuring CLUNK. On the control panel, lights flicker in sequence indicating a stable seal with the airlock and authorization to disembark.
Gathering your team by the exit, you give them a final looking-over. “We aren’t here to cause any trouble, so let’s keep things pleasant. Stay alert and stay polite only as long as our hosts want to be.”
The others nod, each securing their weapons and tools with an air of practiced vigilance. Ceyla hesitates a moment, her expression pensive: “Is this level of caution normal for being a Jedi Shadow? Even when we’re meeting with friendlies?”
<span class="mu-i">“Be professional, be polite, and always have a plan to kill everybody you meet.”</span>
…you decide to not share that particular “Larid-ism” with your padawan until a much later date.
As the airlock opens, you’re greeted by a small delegation of Teladi. Each one stands only half a head shorter than the average human, their scales shimmering in mottled greens and browns, eyes large and unblinking as they appraise your team. They’re decked in a mix of fine silks and functional work clothes, each one bearing the dual insignias of Teladi Corp and Sertain Solutions. Their expressions are a study in reserved curiosity as they weigh the potential for both risk and profit.
One Teladi steps forward, bowing with a practiced, shallow dip. “Greetings. I am Phemusa Visarumus Cerusas III, given name Savis,” she says with a soft hiss. “Dock Manager of the Sertain Shipyard. You must be the representatives from the Supreme Archon Keimann.”
You nod in response, noting the structure of their names from the briefing packet. “I’m Farren Gaele, representing the Mylar Star Alliance. We look forward to seeing the progress of the ships.”
(cont.)
