"What the hell is your problem!" the station supervisor yelled at Mylin. His hands were clasped firmly around Mylin's indigo coveralls and he had him pressed decisively against the docking chute wall. His stubble-covered face was inches away from Mylin's as each anger-ridden word sprayed a fresh volley of saliva across the Calibop's beak.
"Thanks to you I have to evacuate an entire Cardan-class space station in ten hours before an Imperial invasion fleet comes bustin' down my door. Do you know how many people a class 4," the supervisor threw up four fingers for emphasis, "class 4 Cardan space station holds?"
" . . . fourteen thou-"
"Fourteen thousand people!"
The supervisor gave Mylin one last shoved to the wall before he stepped back. He tried to calm himself down by rubbing his face and running his hands through his partially graying hair. He grabbed a cigarra out of his back pocket and lit it. He paced back and forth as smoke leaked from his mouth and nostrils.
He took the light blue stick from his mouth and jabbed it in the direction of one of his officers, "Get this idiot on the bridge of a transport, we need all the able pilots we can get."
Mylin glanced back and forth nervously at the men, "Well, well I have my own ship, but, but I have important information on this card here," the Captain reached his hand into his pocket to grab the datacard he had stolen but he quickly withdrew it when the supervisor shoved his finger back into the Calibop's face.
"I don't really give a kriff what level of 'importance' you think you have," the supervisor yelled, "I have fourteen thousand personnel that need to get out of this system or else they're going to get gunned down by Imperial stormtroopers all because you led the Empire straight to us, and just because you were too spineless to go to a safe system or even a Rebel system!"
"We were under attack. I have important-"
"I already told you, I don't give a kriff about the reason you led a stardestroyer to a secret Consortium supply depot pivotal for Consortium ships to be able to load up before they make their spice runs along the Corellian. I don't really care. All that I know is that you're going to get on a transport and you're going to get fourteen thousand people to the Rothana system in ten hours or I'm going to leave you here to get caught by those stang Imps."
There was a period of silence as the supervisor let his anger simmer in the stale air of the docking chute. Once he was confident he had made his point he took the cigarra out of his mouth and threw it on the floor at Mylin's feet.
"Get him on the Hodrudda," and with that the supervisor began walking towards the exit.
"What about my ship," Mylin asked with an exasperated expression.
"Dismantle it."
Mylin looked at the officer with a shocked face. The officer shrugged with a look that told the Captain "I don't really care."
