Chapter 2: Spoiled Rotten
Notes: Short chapter, I know, I'm sorry. Special name-only cameo by Vala Mal'Doran! Squee! Vala Mal'Doran belongs to Stargate SG-1.
Ooo---oOo---ooO
Sabalom Glitz was not having a good day.
The old smuggler scowled as he lifted the lid off of one of the numerous shipping crates that had been loaded into his spacecraft hold several weeks before. The pungent odor of rotting foodstuffs wafted up across his nose and he gagged, coughing fiercely as he slammed the lid back down. He cast a dismayed look around the small cargo hold, remembering for a moment the magnificent breathing space he'd had before.
This ship was nothing like the Nosferatu II had been, disappointingly - he had lost command of that crystalline beauty when the Time Agency caught him swanning off with a cargo less then legal. Of course, who could blame him for a few shady deals when none of his legit business arrangements ever seemed to go right? At the moment, he had two separate deals in progress, and neither one seemed to be going according to plan.
"Figures," he grunted, clearing his throat and brushing a hand through his graying hair. His dark scowl deepened as he calculated the loss of fifteen crates of supplies against the buyer's asking price, coming up dreadfully short. "Mel is going to kill me for this."
"You're darn bloody right I am!" snapped a less then pleased voice from over his shoulder. Glitz winced and turned about, folding his arms over his chest defensively as he met the dangerous green gaze of an annoyed looking woman in flight gear that looked almost old-western in design. Melanie Bush - known as Mel – was formerly from Peese Pottage, in 1980's West Sussex, England.
However, this woman was not the young computer programmer who first stepped into the Doctor's TARDIS, nor was it the girl who yearned for further travel, hitching a ride in Iceworld with the elder thief despite his penchant for the criminal and shifty. This was the Mel who had grown up, and had adapted quite well to her life in Glitz's crowd. She was a firebrand, co-pilot and navigations expert aboard their new ship, the Star-Striker; she'd refused to let him call the small craft the Nosferatu III, if only because the last two ships of that name had met ill-fated ends. Her curly red hair still had a bit of a 1980's Earth feel to it, even tied back in the rough ponytail, and she held an air of authority about her as she stormed over, her boots thudding dully on the metal hold floor.
They were partners, friends, and rivals…pretty much anything you wanted to think, except lovers. Mention that in front of them and you'd get a black eye at the least.
"Another shipment ruined Glitz, why?" Mel groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose to stave off the beginnings of a headache. "I told you the cargo hold had to be set at 15 Celsius. This stuff doesn't keep when the engines are going."
"I did set it at 15!" Glitz protested as he gestured towards the crusted-over thermometer pasted on the side of the hull. "It wasn't my shortcut that got us off course for three extra days. Strictly speaking we were supposed to be in port last Tuesday. Instead, we hit landfall on Friday, and the Striker gets bashed up more then a bit in the Giluet Nebula Belt. It was probably those asteroids putting dents in her pretty hull that knocked the thermo regulators out of whack."
"Well it's that three extra days that has our clients rather steamed." Mel remarked, moving to check inside one of the crates with a grimace. Glitz stopped her hand before she could open it.
"You don't want to do that, trust me." He muttered sorely. "Where's our first customer? I suppose I should open up negotiations of some sort with him, try and unload this crukked cargo before he figures out its spoiled."
"She," Mel corrected. "Miss Mal'Doran. She said she'd be waiting in the local pub around midday. I'd watch your back if I were you, Glitz, I've heard…some pretty nasty rumors." The words hung on the air between them, creating an atmosphere of worry that lasted only a moment, before Glitz smiled his most charming grin.
"In that case I shall have to use my looks and charm to win her over. And a bit of fibbing wouldn't hurt in either case." He grabbed his blaster and stuck it in a holster at his side. "Back in a jiff Mel my dear. Don't take off without me."
Melanie rolled her eyes and grunted, beginning to load the crates of spoiled foodstuffs onto an anti-gravity trolley. Better to be lightweight and not caught with their hands on the merchandise if things went south, she thought ruefully.
Busy as she was, she did not noticing the two men who had paused just outside the cargo bay doors, eying both her and her ship with objectionable interest. They were gone by the time she had turned around.
