RPlog:Twenty Years Hard Labor

         The space over Etti IV is bustling with merchant traffic, as usual, but there is also an added bit of activity. The ever-present, but usually docile Picket Fleet seems to be more active than usual. The CSAV Litigator has pulled away from the quieter main fleet formation, and seems to be the center of much activity, as smaller corvettes, and light cruiser have been formed in a small military task force, all receiving tender ships, and small vessels from the surface of the planet, apparently, outfitting them for an extended mission.

         It might seem like a random check, but almost as soon as Doghouse launches, a pair of Centurions are discharged from the Litigator, and are pushed forward, on an intercept course for the YT-1300. A tightbeam transmission is sent across the intervening space, labeled as having originated with the VSD2..."Freighter Doghouse, this is the CSAV Litigator. You are ordered to heave to. We have intelligence that you are carrying illegal goods. If you do not cut all thrust, and come to a stop, our fighters will be forced to forcibly disable you."  The pilot of the Doghouse, seeing the fighters approaching on sensors, immediately slows the ship down to a full stop. Anyone close enough to the ship would be able to see him throwing a number of hand gestures toward the oncoming Centurions. Eventually, he returns a message to the VSD2 that says, "Okay, Doghouse at a full stop awaiting instructions. And whatever intelligence you got saying I got illegal goods is garbage, by the way."          "Stow the attitude, Doghouse. Transmit cargo manifest." This is Litigator's terse reply, while the VSD2 breaks formation, leaving it's task force behind, moving to intercept the stationary freighter...the 900 meter capital ship dwarfing the ship, as it nears. It's not long, before the Star Destroyer has stopped, "above" the Doghouse, and tractor beams lock on, forcing the ship into the main hangar, where a full squad of ESPOs await, along with scanning teams. Aboard the CASV Litigator The glow from the tractor beam emitters follow the Doghouse until she settles down on the deck with a groan and several loud creaks. As soon as the last noise dies down the ramp lowers and Shas Krutz comes rushing down, a furious look on his face. He his boots haven't made contact with the Litigator when his voice can be heard yelling, "Okay, I have had just about enough of...this...uh..." His voice trails off as he gets to the bottom to find a squad of Espos looking at him, none too pleased to be addressed in such a manner.

One of the armor-clad ESPOs step forward, and addresses the angry Krutz, his voice business-like...as if he has to deal with this on a regular basis. "I am Sergeant Travlen. You will follow me to Security, where you will be detained while our technicians inspect your freighter. No argument will be tolerated." He's not a very personable fellow, but, then, he doesn't have to be. The squad leader waves another ESPO forward to frisk, Krutz, and once that has been completed, snaps his finger, and turns, leading half the squad, and their "guest", toward a turboshaft.

Seeing no point in resisting, Krutz holds his hands above his head and submits to the frisking, which turns up nothing beyond a hydrospanner and a couple of small circuit boards. These are taken from him and he is led silently to the turboshaft. Once the group has reached the security section, Krutz finds himself shoved (a bit harder than is really necessary) into a holding cell. A small hum indicates that the force field has been activated and Krutz sits on a bunk to await the announcement that this has all been a terrible misunderstanding and he was free to go.

It apparently, takes the ESPO force longer than it should to search such a small ship, as atleast two hours passes, before the sound of approaching footsteps can be heard. The length of time that it's taken might indicate something not so pleasant is up. An unescorted man, in a non-standard, expensive naval uniform stops in front of the holding cell, operates the controls, drops the field, and steps into the small room. He doesn't both reactivating the forcefield, as he silently eyes the other man. "Shas Krutz. You work for the Biscuit Baron corporation as a delivery boy." It's not asked, it's stated. The man doesn't identify himself, but if Krutz is at all up on the CSA newscasts, he would recognize Captain Gren Delede, as he has been a frequent star of new stories, in the past few months. "I fear, you've been caught smuggling, Mr. Krutz."

Krutz glances up as the force field is lowered and has looks as though he recognizes the face of the man before him, but he can't quite place it. Not wanting to get the Espo angry, he listens quietly until he is told that he has been caught smuggling. He jumps to his feet and says loudly, almost but not quite yelling, "What? That's a pile of crap. That was just a load of swoop parts bound for Kalla. They just..." He stops, realizing that he didn't actually inspect the contents of the crates. Oops.

"Sit down, Mr. Krutz." This is delivered by Gren, in a flat voice, the man tapping warning hand to the M434 hanging under his arm. A shake of his head, and the ESPO turns away, as if showing just how threatening he actually finds the loud freighter pilot. "We found the shipment of unregistered Bi-Polar carbines. Highly illegal. No identification numbers, obviously stolen. You could do twenty years on a hard labor colony for a Class B Infraction of this magnitude." A little smile, and the man sighs.."Not to mention a fine of up to three years salary." The man lets this threat hang in the air...waiting for a reaction. "And, if you can't afford representation, which includes arbitrator fees, I'll drop you off at the first available penal colony, on my way to the fringes of our space." Justice in the CSA is crooked, and quick. If you aren't wealthy, you get screwed.

All this his Krutz like his freighter was just dropped on his head. Unable to find any words, he slumps back down onto the bunk to try to sort out the million thoughts that are currently racing through his head. His eyes look rather unfocused, as if staring at a point somewhere on the other side of the bulkhead before him.

"I am not an unreasonable man, Mr. Krutz." Gren says quietly, turning back to face Krutz..."If I were a beat-cop, I'd take a bribe, steal the carbines, and sell them." A little smirk, and the officer crosses his arms. "But, I command a task force of capital ships, and am well above the level of any bribe you might offer." Flicking a bit of imaginary lent off of his impeccable uniform, he sighs. "I hate to send a useful man to prison, though. Prison is unpleasant. Especially the labor colonies...any thing goes, there. Anything." A crooked ESPO. Not exactly a novel concept...

Snapping out of his trance, a flicker of hope dashes across Krutz's face. He quickly glances up at Delede's face, then looks back down at the deck as he says, "Useful, yeah. I, uh, can be useful." As he says this, his eyes squint as if he is trying to figure out how a nobody like him could be useful to the obviously powerful figure standing in front of him.

"Tell me of your ties with Biscuit Baron. I have heard tell of connections within the New Republic, for the franchise." Gren is unafraid, of cutting to the chase, apparently...though, before he lets the man answer his question, he holds up a finger. "Know this: If you betray me, or I find that you tell anyone about our conversation, you are a dead man. I can make that cargo of carbines dissappear, and make a pretty penny off of it...so no need to fear them, should I choose to help you. But, you should know, I've got a number of highly respected bounty hunters on retainer. They will be given your name, before I allow you to leave this ship." Delede's standard arrangement. Now, he can hear all that the man can tell him.

At the mention of Biscuit Baron, Krutz appears to be a bit confused. Why would fast food make him useful? Then with the mention of the New Republic and his semi-frequent trips into NR space things start to fall into place. He listens to all the threats before making answering. He says quickly, "Yeah, Biscuit Baron. I haul freight between their distribution centers. It's mostly all in CSA space except for this one run. You know all those refugees they got over on Mon Calamari? Someone set up a Biscuit Baron there to sell at a discount to the refugees. A PR thing or something. Anyway, I've been there once with more trips scheduled."

"Altruism at it's finest. Cheap, greasy food, sold at even cheaper prices, to the poor. I like it." This is delivered in a faintly disgusted tone, before the officer shakes his head, and uncrosses his arms, regarding the near-human for a few long moments. "I am part of an organization that is always in need of smugglers...and could use you, and your deliveries to open up a new market for our goods, on Mon Calamari." A pause, and Delede strokes his chin, cocking his head slightly.."You were unarmed...does that mean you can't handle yourself in a fight? I'm also always in need of "loyal" gunhands." Shaking his head, Krutz says, "I can handle a blaster fine. No need to, though, carrying food and swoop parts." The mention of swoop parts seems to jog his memory. He says, "Those carbines, you say? I swear I didn't know them things were there." He doesn't resort to ratting out whoever might have put them there to try to save his own skin. Perhaps he knows how to keep his mouth shut.

"I don't care if you know, or not. I'd get whatever information out of you, that I wanted. Given time." Delede smiles coldly, and regards Krutz. He is going to continue letting the man think that those carbines actually existed. "Very well. I will take the carbines, as my cut for keeping you safe. You will proceed with business as usual, and keep your ears open, for any information that might be useful. I may have business for you soon, Mr. Krutz. I promise nothing, in the manner of pay...but favors will be done. And if you prove your trust-worthiness, you could go far indeed, and become a very rich man." A final pause, and Delede clasps his hands behind his back..."I will allow you a chance to ask questions of me...I would not expect to have that chance, again."

Perhaps not wanting to think about what distasteful tasks he may have in the future, Krutz only asks about the present. He says, "What about the rest of my cargo? The legal stuff, I mean. I still have a delivery to make."

"I will have the records of this incident altered, Mr. Krutz. As far as anyone knows, you were detained, until your ship was found to be clean, and sent on your way. Make your delivery. The crewmen who found the carbines will be...dealt with." A smile that really should say everything that needs to be said about the value that Gren places on his subordinates crosses the man's face. "I am a much nicer friend, than an enemy. Never forget that. Also, never forget that I own you now. Atleast, until I can embrace you as a loyal brother." A cryptic reference to family, there. "I do hope that I won't have to spend any money to have you hunted down, and brought back to me." A final sigh, and the man gestures that Krutz is free to leave the cell.."Do you own a blaster? I may have need of you, in my campaign against the pirates. You will need to be armed.