"Evelyn. That Junker shitbox is an old cardamine runner. There is no chance you'll ever pass for some OS&C party barge if anyone takes a closer look."
The cold blue gases of the Coronado Barrier Rim swelled in front of the mooring gate window, leaving just a faint shadow of an old Enterprise-class Liner long past its glory days in the distance. Evelyn took a moment to survey her vessel, a smirk never leaving her face as she did so.
"That's what the transponder's for!" She responded as if stating the obvious. "Nobody's gon' bother taking a looksie if the ID checks out, right? Besides, there're plenty of.. 'shitbox' transports out there. Long as it gets the passengers where they're wantin' to go, who cares?"
The black market dealer sighed and shook his head, placing his hands in his pockets as he took a couple steps back, leaning on the wall of the bay.
"Why'd'you even need this passenger gig? Didn't you ride off into the sunset after your blockade-running, gallivanting cardamine heroics with plenty of profit and that fancy Ryuujin of yours some year and a half back?"
Evelyn shrugged as the smirk vanished from her face. "Lost it gambling. Problem?"
"Problem?" The dealer parroted back with a bitter laugh. "Not mine. Fork over the credits and you can have the transponder for this hairbrained scheme of yours. You're gonna get passengers killed with that boat."
