"Aya, but my Love, it is too late now... "

"Nonsense Dearest, it is never too late."

"Oh Ziika, were but the galaxy not so cruel. We would be together forever, and burn with such passion that even the stars would need to shield themselves."

"Ama'ree, we will make it so... just as you say. I promise you that."

"I wish that you spoke tru-

ATTENTION ALL SCAV-RANGERS! ATTENTION ALL SCAV-RANGERS! PREPARE YOUR UNITS AND GATHER ALL SALVAGE!"





Always. It was always in those last crucial moments of an episode that he was interrupted. In fact, Rolaska-Tox couldn't remember a time when he'd been able to finish an entire episode without having to pause it. With a groan, the Squib rolled from his bunk, giving a shove to a younger brother in the process.

"Up-up. Call's out. Gonna drop soon."

Rolaska-Sito gave a garbled string of excuses as to why he needed to stay in bed, but protestation was futile.

"Things to make trades with, Sito."

That was enough to pull the younger Squib out of slumber, and Tox began the ritual of passing down the long line of bunks. Most of his unit was awake, sitting amid piles of trinkets and baubles and knick-knacks, sorting each piece in a frenzy of action in preparation for their next stop. Some were dozing, and those were given a light shake.

"Up-up. Going to drop soon."

Most needed no other bidding, and soon enough a din rose. Bags were stuffed with 'treasures', crates packed tight, and pockets filled.

It'd come down the line that there was a new station with a sizeable trading and merchant presence, and the ISSA had decided to add it to their lists of stopovers.

"What's the new place called again," a youngish, bright-eyed Picker asked.

"Jovan Station."



* * *


The ISV Istar-Ko had little trouble being directed to a Spire, and even less trouble disgorging its' occupants. That was the nice thing about a race that was only about a meter tall; their ships were small as well. With his treasures stowed in a rather bulky rucksack, his two tensor pistols safely holstered on each hip, and a well-worn brown poncho thrown over his shoulders, Tox cut a diminutive if not determined figure as he hurried through the umbilical, through the airlock's threshold, and onto one of the stations many docking spires. His unit followed closely behind, and it wasn't long before the Istar-Ko's other three units came across as well. Ahead was the Captain, a grizzled yet smiling Squib that was already in discussion with the station's customs agents.

It wasn't long before they were permitted proper entrance, and the gaggle of Squib soldiers (traders) were filing into the row of lifts, intent on their first stops being the bazaar that was on one of the lower levels.

It wasn't the bazaar that concerned him so much though, and Tox hung back. His unit gleefully surged ahead with the others, and his lips pulled back in a rueful smile as he watch Sito cram himself into a lift with at least twelve others.

He turned to the nearest officer on duty.

"Station map?"

The towering Cizerack male gave a grunt, jerking a thumb at a wall and the brightly colored display it held while still keeping his eyes on the stragglers who were relegated to waiting at the closed doors of unavailable lifts.

"Therre."

"Ah! Wonderful!"

A few quick steps brought him past his comrades and to the front of the display. One clawed hand reached up to trace the lines of each section, and his brow furrowed as he continued to search.

"Habitation... Command... Merchant... Reclamation... Livestock... where is it?"

Muttering to himself, Tox couldn't help the growing frown until a clawtip moved over a sector far below the others.

"A-ha!"

A pink tongue darted out to run over his lips.

"There you are."