Who; Dalia and OPEN TO ALL What; Officially: resupplying. Unofficially: a cover up. When; 07:00 Where; Paquin Rating; PG-13
The grenade launcher felt heavy in her hands, its laser tracker busted but still usable at short distance. Who in the hell used a grenade launcher for stealth shooting anyway? Dalia dumped it into the crate onto the mule with the same care she afforded the rest of her weapons. They weren't collector's items, after all, no matter what some of the yuppies on the Central Planets would argue. Guns were made to be used, preferably against the assholes who had commissioned them, but thirsting for blood was not much appreciated in high society.
Fuck high society, she thought, wiping the sweat off her palms against the coarse leather of her trousers. For all that he had an ID card that identified him as a native of Ariel, their former passenger had left a shitload of illicit goods behind when he decided to take a walk out into the black. And in his skivvies, no less. Maybe it was all that high society that finally got to him. Maybe he could've done it on someone else's ship. Every gorram thing he owned could be traced, from the handheld reader that connected to the cortex every twelve minutes to the licensed, Alliance-issue guns he kept in his luggage. Civilians gave her a headache.
Paquin's sunrise was thirty-six minutes away. In that time, any identifiers that could pinpoint to Mr Hodge Holborn's escapade had to be gone from the ship. It wasn't an Alliance she feared - they wouldn't have to bother to tie her to a murder to put her in a place with no windows - but any man who carried so much firepower had to have enemies he owed. Or worse, friends who might get funny ideas about vengeance. The best thing would be to dissociate the Nekhbet from anything remotely connected to their former passenger.
Hopping onto the platform, Dalia opened the comsys to the rest of the ship. "Come on, ladies, rise and shine. Ship won't resupply itself." And witnesses who could vouch for Holborn's presence on Paquin wouldn't buy themselves. "Get a fucking move on." She cut the connection, checking her rifle for rounds. Enough to pull through if they got faced with any unpleasantness. Shiny.