Karadin

[Stoat]

How much?! he exploded when the mechanic told him the estimate for repairs. Youve gotta be yanking my chain!

I am very sorry, Herr Karadin. Most of the cost would be the repairs required by your shielding unit. It is a top of the line piece of equipment, and we simply are not set up for repairing that level of technology. We would have to order in all the necessary parts, and they are not cheap. Without the repairs required by the shielding unit, we could fix you up for about 20,000 credits.

Good god! I only earned 40 grand on that job! Do the repairs you can, forget about the shields. Im off to the bar! He stomped off, determined to drown his sorrows. A hundred an twenty five thousand credits! he muttered repeatedly as he headed for the nearest bar. Its a bloody joke! Im not hanging around here.

Once seated in the bar he continued his complaints to a few Daumann workers. Most quickly bored of his tirade, but some were more sympathetic. As they descended deeper into their cups, Karadin started to pick up some useful snippets of information. One weather beaten old trader offered him a data stick apparently carrying a route through the borderworlds to the Zoner stronghold of Gran Canaria. He wanted free drink for the data. Karadin, a fair distance away from sobriety himself, readily agreed, and deposited a fairly large sum of money at the bar. It was enough to keep the trader drunk for the next week. Karadin finally stumbled off a few hours later. As he reached the area his room was located in, two large men stepped out of a shadowed corridor and threw him against a bulkhead. He was in no condition to defend himself and was soon punched and kicked him to the ground. Landing a final kick in Karadins stomach, one of the men leaned over, spat in his face, and whispered Verdammt Soeldner! Take your foul stench away from here. If we see you again, well kill you.

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