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The technician positively squirmed as Fate kept him waiting there, waiting on him to give him a response as to the completion of his order. The shipyards of Ranik were the best, and so was he, the best bounty hunter in the business, and if he was not satisfied, sometimes lesser beings died for it.

He finally answered the tech, and was handed a hand-held computer tablet. A holographic wireframe of his newly built ship, the Cruel Fate was visible, as were the stats on weapons, shield, armor, sensors, and special packages of other things he'd ordered. It was known that he paid top dollar for equipment and upgrades, and he demanded the best every time.

The new ship, he noted, was a fine example of craftsmanship from the Ranik techs. Built in a custom style he had worked with the senior designers for days on, it looked like a rectangular, boxy center with two pincer-style wings jutting from the sides, curving forward, with weapons at the tips of each end. The speed was as he'd asked for, blisteringly fast lightspeed and sublight travel, with plenty of cargo space, advanced weapons, armor and sensors, as well as three stasis cells for his captives. He had long ago broken from using cages, as that kept the target aware, and possibly able to kill themselves rather then be turned in for a bounty. With stasis, they were frozen in a time-space bubble, until he turned it off and delivered them.

He finished with the readouts, and handed the tech the tablet and his personal account information. He finally spoke, as well.

"Take what we agreed on for this job. I will be leaving shortly, so have my ship transferred to the main starport hub for my departure."

The tech nodded shakily, and punched in a few commands at a nearby console. Automated machinery lifted his new ship to a cargo lift, and it sped away, travelling to the main docking bay for his departure. He took a similar such lift, then boarded the bullet tram, and sped towards the docking bay. Out the armored windows, he could see incoming traffic for the shipyards.

His thoughts wandered to his latest assignment...an Imperial Strike Force Commander has gone rogue, last sighted around here, asking for transport to another Quadrant. The payoff was quite handsome, but they had him waiting here for some reason, saying it was a last minute addition to the data he'd been given on the target already.

He just didn't understand why they hadn't transmitted it, instead of sending a hard copy carried by someone....

Fate was in one of the many taverns the shipyards hosted, waiting for a transmission from one of his informants. He hated being here, especially when he had no word on his quarry...

His helmet comlink chimed, and he toggled it on.

"Your target is on-planet right now. As the storms are too dangerous to brave in a smaller craft, have your ship loaded onto one of the ore haulers heading down there right away. We've received a tip that he's going to try and charter a ship to take him out of here.", said his informant.

He stood up, heading for the dock foreman's offices. He'd make arrangements there to have his ship moved to the next departing ore hauler to get down to the surface as quickly as possible.

A second transmission came to him. He stopped then, and a man approached him, handing him a datacard.

"Your data, as promised," said the man, and disappeared into a crowd of departing dockworkers.

Fate inserted it into the reader on his armor and the target's info came up. Jahn Voss, Imperial Strike Team Commander, stole military technology and sold it to the black market, then disappeared....the man was trained almost as well as he was, and Fate figured he'd be a deadly adversary....

With his ship loaded onto the next departing ore hauler, Fate had several hours to kill. He returned to the tavern, taking one of the booths in the very back to avoid being noticed.

When he left the place for a few minutes to check the departure screens, he spotted someone. A woman he'd seen several times before, on other stations.

He dropped a heavy hand on her shoulder and spun her around.

"Its been a long time,Alexander. Still running cargo under the nose of the Empire?", he said in his rasping, helmet-synthesized voice.

Fate shrugged, his battle armor clinking in several spots as he did so.

"I am working for the Empire, but rest assured, they don't want you. We should find a quieter place to discuss this, and-"

A warning klaxon blared through the area. Dock workers came stumbling out of the ore hauler docks, choking and gagging. Fate grabbed a nearby security officer rushing to the scene and questioned him.

"There was a fuel line rupture. A lot of workers got hit with fuel vapors and put down hard, really sick, some dead. The hauler's going to be delayed at least a day getting that line and pump fixed.", said the officer.

Fate turned the man loose, who kept going to help the injured. He turned back to Grace.

"With my ship on that hauler I cannot invite you there. I know of some accomodations nearby that we could use. Separate rooms for the night, of course."

The pair left the docking area and entered the hotel areas. Built originally for extra dockworkers and ship captains, it had expanded to include better accomodations for high paying customers, government officials, and other people that liked the high life.

Fate inwardly cursed the man he was chasing, but was also satisfied that since the station was shut down for a day, his target wouldn't be escaping for a while yet.

He stopped at a local station information terminal, and opened the ore hauler flight schedule. By some chance of fate, the hauler he and Grace were both set to leave on was also the first one heading down to the planet, and with no other ships down there, the target was stuck also.

They finally made their way to one of the better hotel areas, and Fate aqquired two rooms, with an adjoining door between them, so they could enter each other's room to talk without being noticed. He paused at the door.

"Alright, here's your door codes. Come through the side door into my room, we'll discuss this there. Best that nobody sees you actually enter my room."

Fate took a seat on the bed, taking off his armored gauntlets, then his armored gloves, revealing a surprisingly soft looking left hand and his cybernetic right hand.

"This does. I'm sure you have heard of this matter by now," he said, pulling the datacard from his armor's reader and handing it to her.

"It contains information on a dangerous fugitive. He was a Strike Team Commander in the Imperial Army, and he went rogue, killed his accomplices, and sold stolen military technology to finance his escape. I've tracked him here, he's down on the planet's surface."

He continued removing armor pieces and weaponry, until his civilian gab was revealing, a simple Imperial Pilot's black jumpsuit. He rose and left for a moment, returning with a black full-face, ninja style wrap covering his head, with dark glasses hiding his eyes.

"I want you to help me find him. He will kill anyone in his way, even those that think they can trust him or take him money for services. He kills just for fun."

"I'm sure it is. He has already used the same trick twice, killing the captains and using the ships to hide out somewhere else. His name is Jahn Voss, and he is a deadly foe, almost as deadly as me...but not enough to pose much of a challenge should it come to that."

He stretched out on the bed, working the kinks out of his muscles. The armor he wore was tough and rare outside the military, but it was also burdensome at times, and he wasn't getting any younger.

He sat up, and continued.

"I'm surprised you've learned to deal with me. Most others are too fearful of my reputation to be of any use aside from mundane tasks. How is it that you are not intimidated?"

He didn't say it demandingly, it was more of a questioning, puzzled tone.