Dirtside Fornice. Ground Sub-Port 2-A (Port-au-Prince)

Mama reports: "Low Passenger 'thawing' is almost complete. Kayla and I will have them up and walking within the hour. Everything looks optimal...No Problems!"

Tamm uses the "Get a Quote" feature on the local maintenance company’s website. He describes the job — replacing and calibrating the tri-spacial unit — and asks for the price of "sooner rather than later" & expedited services.

LC Rains – Dirtside Briefing / Downport 2-A (Port-au-Prince) – May 28, 1115

The Miss Fortune settles on Pad 8 with the soft thud of a cat landing on a pillow — smooth, controlled, and blessedly uneventful. Through the forward viewport, rain streaks the glass, tropical humidity fogging the edges. LC unbuckles and stands, rolling his shoulders as the ship powers down to idle hums and blinking status lights.

"Well, gentlemen, ladies, and assorted clever life-forms — we’ve landed. I was almost disappointed not to explode on final descent."
He scans the pad cameras and frowns slightly at the empty tarmac.
"Though I do notice the distinct absence of our welcoming committee from Santanocheev Medical. For a crowd so insistent on ‘no intermediaries,’ they’re being remarkably… intermediate. Let’s hope they at least remembered to meet us at customs. Would be dreadfully embarrassing to deliver a high-priority package to an empty lobby."

He turns back to the assembled crew, voice raised just enough to carry over the soft patter of rain on the ship's hull.

"Alright, folks — here’s the order of business. One: passengers off first. No incidents, no lingering goodbyes. Two: standard cargo offload follows, clean and by the book. Three: we’ll need a two-person team to escort the special shipment to the Santanocheev Estate — volunteers first, or I’ll assign."
He glances around at the crew, eyes narrowing slightly but not unkindly."Once we’re clear of passengers and freight, Engineering takes over. Tamm, you’re lead on the tri-spatial controller. Confirm parts, verify calibration, and make sure we’re ready for departure before the bureaucrats have time to sniff us out. Copy?"

He gives the crew one last look, the edges of fatigue tempered by that familiar dry glint in his eyes.

"Good. Let’s make this quick, clean, and dull. And if anything isn’t dull.

He switches comms to passenger service as the disembarkation begins.
"Miss Ting — I understand you’re bound for the Santanocheev Estate as well? We’ve got a rather delicate item headed that way ourselves. Might be smart to coordinate travel from the customs portal — safety in numbers, and all that. Especially in this lovely weather."
He offers her a small, wry smile — the kind that says he’s half-joking but means every word.

He turns toward Engineering’s comm channel, voice steady.
"Tamm, for the drive maintenance — use the local affiliate of ‘All Star Ship Services.’ They’re part of Smugg Orney’s outfit, which means we might actually get the work done properly for once. I’m fairly certain I’ve got a coupon somewhere — possibly stapled to my overdue loan paperwork."

A moment later, LC flicks open his personal console and types a short encrypted message, addressed to Smugg Orney Enterprises, Fornice Branch.
Transmission sent. LC turns as the LeFrontaines approach. Adriana looks pale but awake, Terry steadying her arm. He smiles faintly, professional and careful.

"Mr. LeFrontaine — not sure what you’re thanking me for, but you’re welcome all the same."
He glances toward ‘Mama’ Said-Ma as Terry hands over a thick, weighty envelope. LC takes it without a word, weighing it in his hand before sliding it into his inner jacket pocket.
"This will go in the ship’s vault. Safe and quiet, like the rest of this voyage."

LC goes to his captain's cabin and heads to the safe, takes a look in the envelope with squinting eyes as if the envelope contains an explosive or confetti and sees what is inside. Secured that the cabin and LC did not blow up in a rain of shrapnel and flames LC reviews the contents. LC secures the envelope and contents into the Captain's safe. he then grabs his wet weather coat and heads toward the cargo bay, umbrella in hand, as the rain intensifies outside. With the manifest displayed on his hand terminal (computer) in one hand standing by the Santanocheev crate logged and ready, he prepares to personally escort the special cargo through customs.

LC Rains – Post-Landing Orders & Santanocheev Delivery Prep – May 29, 1115 – 0200 Local Time

The hum of environmental systems settles into a low, familiar thrum aboard the grounded Miss Fortune. Outside, rain continues to mist across the pad in sheets, turning the tarmac into a glistening pool of runoff and reflections. Inside, LC Rains stands in the bridge alcove, one hand on the back of his chair, reading over the latest maintenance quote with tired but focused eyes.

"Right. We’re down. Customs done, passengers off, and the hull didn’t blow apart in the final fifteen minutes — I call that a win."

He taps through comms and logs a quick, curt message to the Santanocheev Medical Office.
He flicks the console over to procurement and dials up All Star Ship Services with a slightly sharper tone of voice than usual.

"All Star, Rains again. Need to add to the tab — we’ll need a rental of an enclosed cargo-type air-raft, rated for one ton for a two-day term. Safety and security package included. You know, the one where if we vanish into the jungle, your people come find us before the local Fornice flora and fauna start to eat us or a local militia starts asking invasive questions. We understand about the Medical evac extra fees, of course. Let me know when the keys are ready."

He glances down at the maintenance quote blinking on his screen — 72,000 credits with discount.

"And yes, we’re green on the cryogenic tri-spatial controller. Funds transferred. Tell your boys if they install it backwards I’m sending it to Smugg mounted on a plate."

---

ACTION- If Santanocheev Medical Office okays a delivery after 0900 local then the below occurs
He reaches for his hand-terminal and keys open ship-wide.

"Crew: Get your rest. Call it rack time until 0900 local. Tharrok, Bronz and Kayla — congratulations, you’ve just been promoted to the glorious honor of ground logistics. You’re coming with me on the Santanocheev run. Bring your wet gear and your social graces — we’re delivering the crate in person. Tamm, you're in charge of the ship while we’re out. Try not to sell it. Or do — just get a good price."

---

ACTION- If Santanocheev Medical Office does NOT okay a late delivery and wants the cargo immediately then the following:
LC places his palm over his face and exhales in an attempt to relieve the stress of an impatient customer. He reaches for his hand-terminal and keys open ship-wide.

"Tharrok, Bronz and Kayla — congratulations, you’ve just been promoted to the glorious honor of ground logistics. Drop what you are doing and you’re coming with me on the Santanocheev run. Bring your wet gear and your social graces — we’re delivering the crate in person. Tamm, you're in charge of the ship while we’re out. ensure the rest of the crew gets some rest. Try not to sell it. Or do — just get a good price."

---

He closes the comm, exhales, and finally steps away from the console, flexing his shoulders and cracking his neck.

No matter the Santanocheev Medical Office outcome, LC will conduct the follow action and CC Said-Ma & Tamm. Before finally calling it a night, he keys in a set of quick broker queries — basic, no-frills, but wide-net — for local contacts:
LC follows up that message with a message to Said-MA and cc Tamm
He kills the lights on the bridge, coat over his shoulder, muttering as he walks back toward his cabin…

"Three weeks. What could possibly go wrong?"

LC Rains – On Choosing a Broker – May 29, 1115, Early Morning
LC leans back in the chair at his bridge console, one boot perched on the edge of the helm and a mug of steaming caf in hand. The rain continues its unceasing dribble outside, and he’s half-reading a roster of local brokers when he sighs — the kind of weary exhale that comes with experience, cynicism, and likely unpaid docking fees.
"Right. Hundred brokers to choose from, all promising discretion, speed, and unparalleled margins. Just like every last one of my exes."
He taps a few keys, pulling up the familiar logo of Smugg Orney’s "All Star Ship Services." The smile that curls across his face is dry enough to counteract the humidity outside.
"Let’s not pretend I’m risking cracked ribs and profit margins on a stranger with a clipboard. We’ll go with Smugg’s in-house broker. Sure, he’ll shave a few points off the top — but unlike the competition, he won’t shave them off my skull when the deal goes sideways."
He types a short message into the console, routing it to "All Star Ship Services – Broker Desk."
He downs the last of his caf, muttering as he gets up to prep for the Santanocheev run…
"Smugg always said loyalty should be measured in bone fractures avoided. Seems fair."

BIC
LC Looks at Bronz
"Coming along to make sure I can get this G-Carrier?"BIC

LC goes with (whom??) through Starport customs and security with nothing but a stylish wet weather coat and his 3 piece suit, ID and hand terminal, after exiting customs he waits for the others. While waiting he contacts BUDGET Rent-a-Raft and ensures they have his Budget 'Fast-Break' Frequent traveller program number. When the others get through security he heads to the Grav bus stop clearly marked for Rental Vehicle facility and boards with the others. When the gav bus gets to the the facility, LC steps off and goes to the BUDGET Rent-a-Raft kiosk and looks for his name and where the one-ton fully Enclosed G-Carrier is listed. If he is not listed on the 'Fast-Break' board he will go to the Kiosk and wait his turn in line and politely make small talk and pay for the one-ton fully Enclosed G-Carrier. He will thank the Sophant that it helping him. He will then with the other crewmember go the parking spot, check out the vehicle for the usual dings and damage, mark the rental agreement tablet and then go to the exit booth. Hand the robot attendant the tablet and let him conduct the laser light scan of the vehicle to verify the damage state of the vehicle prior to departure. During which LC will contact the Star port security and request a digital pass for the G-Carrier rental to allow it to enter the cargo area and tarmac area. Once the robot attendant is finished, LC will set the self driving instructions to the cargo tarmac starport entrance security portal and let the self driving G-Carrier do the rest.

Looking at Bronz (or whoever comes along)
"Want to hit the 'In-and-Out Burger for some Syn-Coke and a Nobble Burger?"

Talking to himself...

"Friends and Family discount? Sounds like something a Smugg Orney company would offer."

Speaking to LC

"Tamm isn’t happy about waiting three weeks for the tri-spatial repairs. Tamm will check the Engineering database to see if there’s a way to speed up the process."

"Do we have enough Credits in the ship's fund to pay for the repairs and our next load of cargo? Remember, Tamm has Credits to lend.

"Yes, Tamm — the ship can afford the controller."

LC says it with the same tone one might use to confirm they can, in fact, swim across a crocodile-infested river… once.

"We’ve got 244,736 credits in the account. Paying the 72,000 for the tri-spatial controller leaves us with a little breathing room… but let’s not pretend it won’t sting."

He taps his hand terminal, calculating on the fly.

"Between docking fees, broker cuts, that controller pretty much devours the profit from this run. Which means, Tamm, that the next haul better be made of solid iridium wrapped in good luck and gratitude — or at least something that pays on time."

He glances up at Tamm and in a even tone.

"So yes, we’ll cover the cost. But I’d very much like to have something left for when we need to bribe our way out of the next customs check, buy fuel, or — gods forbid — pay the crew. If you can squeeze the schedule or the price without getting us arrested, do it. But I’m not selling my last good coat for spare parts just yet."

LC looks at Tamm as he touches his chin with a thought and then says

"Of course if you want to volunteer your own funds I am not going to step in the way, but I would advise against it."

"Tamm agrees with you, Captain. Tamm will hold on to his Credits. Perhaps Tamm will need them to get himself out of jail."

Did Tamm just make a joke? It was hard to tell; his face gave nothing away.

When told of the trip, Bronz held LC’s gaze a long beat and said nothing. Then he shrugged, turned away, and started gathering what he’d need. He’d rather stay with the drives, but Tamm could hold the line. Orders were orders.

He showed up at the bay on time gear in hand and the kind of expression that kept most folks at arm’s length. If LC wanted him north, he’d go north. When they got back, he’d see what the locals had touched and make it right, no gloss, no pretty paint, just the work.

A clipped nod to Kayla, then to LC. "Let’s move."

Tamm speaks with LC just before he sets off to the Estate:

"Captain, Tamm has had more tine to think about the tri-spacial problem. It is the only part that's failed so let's save time and money and just get the tri-spacial replaced. Off-brand parts work as well as name brand parts but have much lower prices. The Engineers said they can start work April 3rd. The cost will be around 20,000cr.
Is this acceptable to you?"

(Biga is very excited to see Tamm. There is a pot of feijoada and one of rice on the counter and a large flan in the ice box in the galley with a sign reading 'Help Yourself'.

LC Rains – Tri-Spatial Decision & Departure for Santanocheev Estate – April 1st, 1115 – 0930 Local

Standing in the hangar bay beside the cargo-packed G-Carrier, LC finishes reviewing Tamm’s latest proposal, a rare nod of approval forming as he listens.

"Tamm, that’s a good call. No need to tear the whole drive core apart over one fault. Let’s stick to replacing just the cryogenic tri-spatial controller — but make sure we get a brand name part. I’m not flying blind on someone’s thirdhand rebuild with the logo scratched off."

He taps his hand terminal and flicks a note to confirm with All Star.

"Starting work on the third? Fine by me. Keeps us within our window. Once that’s installed and checked, we can worry about the next moneymaker."

He slaps the side of the G-Carrier, nodding to Bronz and Kayla already onboard and waiting.

"Alright — time to earn our noble gratitude."

LC climbs into the cab, checks the seal on the cargo crate one last time, then settles into the pilot’s seat. He engages the nav controls, routes the air-raft toward the estate’s general coordinates, and opens comms to Santanocheev Medical.

[Encrypted Transmission – Santanocheev Medical]
"Santanocheev, this is Free Trader Miss Fortune. We’re en route with the delivery as scheduled. G-Carrier locked on to nav beacon coordinates. Standing by for final routing and landing instructions. – Rains"

Once the final vector comes in, LC adjusts course, angling the vehicle through rain-slick clouds and low-lying fog as the tropical countryside rolls out beneath them — green, wet, and vaguely ominous.

"Let’s get this over with," he mutters, eyes on the horizon as they fly toward whatever version of nobility awaits them behind the next ridge.

LC Rains – At the Hangar, Just Before Departure – April 1st, 1115

LC pauses at the G‑Carrier’s ramp, glancing back at Tharrok with a tired grin — one worn into his face by years of similar bad ideas and close shaves. He lets the rain bead on his coat for a moment before replying.

"Walk back into the lion’s den?"
He exhales through his nose, amusement low and dry.
"Come on, Tharrok — you and I both know it’s not the first time I’ve tried to pet the Count’s pet lion without getting bit. At least this time I’m not wearing a stolen officer’s coat or carrying the wrong wine."

He taps the G‑Carrier with the back of his hand like one might knock on a coffin lid.

"I know what I’m doing — or at least I know what went wrong last time. That’s practically the same thing in our line of work."

He leans in slightly, lowering his voice, a glint of gallows humor flickering behind his eyes.

"And don’t worry — I’ll avoid any booby traps. Bronz gets to find those. I’ve delegated the honor."

He starts to turn, then pauses, casting a sideways glance back.

"Unless you’d rather come along. Could always use another set of eyes that know which fork to use in a noble’s den of snakes."

His tone is light, but the offer’s genuine. Shared history counts for something, especially when walking back into old shadows.

Leilani had spent so much time working on this ship that she didn't quite know what to do with herself with any downtown. And apparently, it was important to take personal time, so here she was sitting on the outside of the ship.

It wasn't quite like home, the star was too small and whilst it was warm it wasn't humid, but she had to admit that it did make for a nice sunset...