I caught up with the captain of the Olga a short way down the boulevard, where she stood outside another cantina, appraising posters for a cabaret show. Painted in the garish neons of the street signs, her blue skin looked purple and I could see that her pilot's jacket was frayed and beaten up in the way that only an experienced spacers jacket could be.

"Are you the captain of the Olga?"

"Zat depends who eez asking," she said, and when she turned her head towards me a fraction, I saw that her left eye was covered by a patch.

“Talus Longstar. I spoke with a member of your crew. He said I should come speak to you if I had any questions about the Olga, captain…?”

With an audible sigh she turned and leaned against a nearby lightpost, looking me up and down with absolutely no effort to appear anything other than disappointed at what she saw. I got the feeling she was a difficult woman to impress.

“Captain Milika. Eet’s my ship, yes.”

“You don’t sound too happy about that.”

Who could blame her? It didn’t take an expert in starship mechanics to know that freighter Olga looked about ready to fall apart.

“I was hoping to be able to take a look around the Olga.”

”And I was ‘oping to find the Jewel of Yavin een my Life Day stocking, but sadly, non.”

“I’ve heard you were carrying a man named Ranse on your ship,” I said, stepping aside just long enough to allow a noisy group of Rodian’s to pass by. As the space opened up between us again, she frowned at me.

“Does ee owe you money?”

I made a mental note at that. Larel had played her Sabacc hand close to her chest when it came to Ranse’s line of business. Maybe Milika knew more, or maybe she was just in the habit of transporting passengers who played a little faster and looser with their credits than Larel did with information.

“No. He’s a friend of mine,” I lied. “I’m just trying to figure out where he might be.”

Not very convincingly, I guess, based on the brittle laugh that earned me from captain Milika.

“Of course ee eez.” she smiled, a knowing smile that seemed to say: you can banthashit a banthashitter. “Look, I ‘ave no idea where ee eez. We picked eem up een the Outer Rim a couple of weeks ago and brought eem here.”

The bouncer of the bar we were closest to eyed the two of us with a squint. I smiled, tight-lipped, and took a step closer to Milika.

“Any chance I can take a look on board the Olga, maybe see where he was staying?”

From the look on her face, I might as well have asked if she’d like to enlist in the Imperial Navy.

“I don’t need people snooping around my ship,” she replied, taking a step away from the post she’d been leaning against and towards the sounds and smells of the nearest bar.

It was hard to argue with her. Without the backing of CorSec or the Empire, I couldn’t compel the captain to let me on board her ship. Maybe if I’d had a decent stack of credits, if Larel had paid me anything at all up front, I could have made like I wanted to buy passage, or straight up bribed her to let me take a poke around.

“If you see Ranse around, I’d appreciate it if you’d let him know that Brimseld is looking for him,” I said, but she was already halfway into the bar. She turned just enough to give me another look at that eyepatch and the humorless, flattened line of her lips, before she was gone.

It was the second time that night that a beautiful woman had left me feeling cold and confused, and I was no closer to finding my missing Zabrak.