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Part 7

Wes stood outside his open security door, watching droids trundle back and forth. It was nearly 0130, and the boxes from truck number four were being hauled in. The activity had broken the tedium for a while, but the sameness of it had quickly grown dull. Though it was a little entertaining to listen to Navik's half-articulated mutterings. Once outside, away from scary weapons and with droids to boss around, he had regained a little of his pompousness. But Wes was very amused to note that he did all of his directing from a distance.

The unloading process, however, was going very slowly. Instead of a well-organized loading dock, the endless crates were being shoved into a narrow corridor -- even more narrow when fully-stacked hover-pallets were lined up against the wall. The droids barely had room to turn around, and not remotely enough space to pass each other. So instead of an orderly rotation of droids coming in and going out, they kept getting in the way of each other, making the whole process drag interminably. Navik's efforts to speed things up (mostly consisting of shouting) were no help. One of the other drivers finally stepped in, setting up a rough relay where one droid pulled boxes off the transports and stacked them by the door, another picked them up and carried them part way down the hall, another took them further, and so on. It was a help, but not much of one. Navik continued to stomp back and forth, glowering. The other drivers and the droids ignored him.

The driver of the second truck, the one who had sorted the droids, wandered over to Wes's spot near the wall, finishing the end of a thin cigarra. Dropping it on the ground, he snuffed it out with a toe. "Slow night, at least until we showed up, huh?" he asked conversationally.

"You can say that again," Wes answered. "Is it always a circus with him around?" Wes asked, jerking a thumb in Navik's direction.

"Pretty much, yeah. He's got an 'in' with the boss, or else he would have been gone a long time ago. I get stuck making runs with him all too often." The driver shrugged eloquently, as if to say "What can you do?", and then extended a hand. "Brun MkAliver, by the way."

Wes shook the offered hand. "Wes Janson, nice to meet you."

"I haven't seen you around here before, you new on the base security detail?" MkAliver asked conversationally.

Wes's lips quirked upward into a wry grin. "You might say so. Actually I'm not usually assigned to Security, I'm really a pilot. I fly with Rogue Squadron," he added casually.

MkAliver burst out laughing. "Right, and I'm an aide to the Council. I just fly hovertrucks for fun in my spare time." He laughed again, clapping Wes on the shoulder. "That's a good one, pal."

"No, really, I'm actually --"

"What do you think you're doing, MkAliver? Get back to your truck, you're not supposed to be fraternizing." Navik strode up as if he owned the street, pushing his way between the two men.

Wes started to tell Navik to get lost, but MkAliver was both faster and far more forceful. "Mind your own business, Navik, there's nothing that says I can't talk to people. Just cause no one wants to deal with you, doesn't mean that --"

"I am saying you can't," Navik interrupted. "Your responsibility is your truck, not fawning on self-important officers who --"

"Now that's about all I can take!" MkAliver exploded. "The truck don't seem to be going anywhere, does it? I'm unloaded, waiting around for your sorry excuse for a crew to get their gears moving so I can get home --"

"There's nothing wrong with these droids, they just need --"

"We shoulda had twice the number for this haul, but you said that they'd just get in the way, when we could have had --"

"They are getting in the way, as I said in the first place --"

"I woulda had them all dancing by now, and we'd be on the way home in --"

"WHOA!" Wes yelled, pushing between the two irate drivers. "Take it easy! Calm down, there's no need --"

"I'm sorry, sir, but I've had just about enough of this squiddy's high-handed attitude and his idiotic --"

"That is an outrageous insult! I insist that you apologize immediately!"

"You've insulted me more times than I can remember, and you've never apologized for anything! So you'll just have to eat that one, and like it!"

Wes again stepped between the two, forcefully pushing them apart. "Enough! Navik, over there, now! MkAliver, step back here, now, that's it," as he tried to lead the steaming driver to one side. Navik started to say something else, but Wes clapped a hand to his holster, and the Quarren quickly backed off.

"I'm sorry, but that fish-head is just about more than I can take," MkAliver said, slightly calmer.

"Trust me, I believe you. But we don't need any trouble here tonight, huh? How about taking a short walk, just down toward the loading docks and back."

Wes continued to guide the man away, but an uncertain voice stopped him. "Um... where's the officer on duty here tonight?"

He turned in surprise, to see a Twi'lek and a younger human standing several feet away, dressed in civilian clothes. The Twi'lek flashed a base ID at him, while supporting the young man, obviously the worse for a hard night on the town. He was, in fact, a shade far too close to the Twi'lek's natural gray-green skin.

Wes blinked at them. "You mean base staff actually use this door? Where's his ID?"

The Twi'lek handed over his own and the younger man's identification. "Not often. Only when we're trying to get around a hard-nosed captain who's warned Davad here twice already about coming in drunk and sick off his head. I'm trying to get him back to quarters quietly. What's all of this mess?" he asked, gesturing at the trucks and droids and boxes.

"Don't ask," Wes answered. "I'm afraid that you won't be able to get in for a while, the other end of the corridor is locked down until we're done unloading."

"Oh no," the Twi'lek moaned. "There's no way we'll get in the other door, Captain Marlin will be sure to catch us there -- isn't there any way we can get in here?"

"Ugh... I think I'm gonna be sick," the young man slurred. Wes shrugged, eyeing him distastefully.

"Not for probably another hour. Sorry, there's nothing I can do."

"Come on, you have to let us in, or we're both going to be in trouble. Look, I've got twenty credits in my pocket, they're all yours if you just open the door."

Wes shook his head. "Even if I wanted your credits, I still couldn't let you in. Major Frantloo's the one with the override code. And if you took this nerf out and let him get into this condition, I can't say that I feel too badly for you. Either wait here, or find another entrance."

Navik's curiosity had apparently overridden his fear enough to draw him back within eavesdropping range. Wes heard him muttering off to the side. "I knew it, he would take a bribe. Holding out for more cash, probably. I saw it in him from the second --"

MkAliver must have heard the Quarren as well. "Now that's a dirty lie!" he yelled, charging around Wes and thrusting his face straight into Navik's. "I won't hear another word! If you don't apologize right now, I'm going to throw you down the nearest street-crossing!"

"Oh, and you rush to protect him! If you knew what I know about the base here, you wouldn't be so quick to --"

"I know ten times as much as you ever will, you sorry excuse for --"

"I'm gonna be sick... Ryn, gonna be..." the miserable young man groaned.

Wes hurriedly tried to turn the Twi'lek and his charge around. "If he's going to be sick, he doesn't need to do it here. Take him over there, let him sit against the building for a while. Just go!"

The Twi'lek clumsily hauled Davad around and got him moving. At almost the same second, Navik broke away from MkAliver, stomping toward his truck. He didn't see the two staggering crew members until he bumped into them. Davad stumbled, throwing out an unsteady arm and latching onto Navik for balance. The Quarren tried to free himself from the drunken man's grip as Davad clung and Ryn tried to keep him on his feet, the three of them scuffling awkwardly. Ryn started to apologize, but Davad interrupted by doubling over. "Ugh... gonna be..."

Without further ado, Davad's dire predictions came true. Ryn jumped back in time. Navik, to his misfortune, didn't.

Continued in Part 8...