#SciFriday

Challenge 15 - Oil and cinnamon

Oil and cinnamon

Del leans back in his chair and tries for this all-important relaxed look. He is determined to convince their potential customers that he is not only smart, good looking and competent but also the one and only smuggler who is able to satisfy their needs on time. This is kind of tricky, because he can neither see nor speak directly with his unusual customers. They are enclosed in a dark metal box of roughly two by two by two meters. The container maintains the atmosphere that allows the hkhrrry delegation to exist on this outer reach space station. Communication is made possible by a sophisticated translator system and some visual sensors built in the slightly sparkling surface of the box. But possible doesn't equal easy or fast.

Del glances in Br'ri's direction only to realise that his partner seems to be disgusted. Her skin shows that typical wrinkling around the mouth. He is not sure if she disapproves of his performance or the strange beings in the box. Hopefully the visuals don't translate this to the customers.

The waiting starts to get on Del's nerves as well. Nonchalantly he starts cleaning his fingernails with a dangerous looking dagger. He is aware that most people are either impressed or distressed by this behaviour. Briefly he wonders what the inhabitants of the box make of it? Hkhrrry are not people in the strict sense, so there is no telling if they even understand his gesture.

Del knows from experience that Br'ri is getting exceedingly nervous. So he puts the dagger away and tries to send her a mental message, telling her to calm down. Of course she can't read his thought, same as the last roughly five hundred times he tried this tactic. But you never know, maybe one day he will develop enough mind power to make it work. Hope dies last.

Del sighs inwardly. Finally the translator cackles with the long awaited response.

"Very - well. You - may - pick - up - the - freight - immediately - and - deliver - it - by - human - trade - routes - to - G9-station - without - delay. Paperwork - is - provided. Payment - at - delivery."

Del nods and stands up, all business now. Br'ri follows his lead with a slight frown. She is ka'arian, blue skin, stilted eyes and all. Actually she is ka'arian royalty, a princess or duchess or whatever, for what this is worth today. For a royal she is certainly the best partner he ever had, a competent mechanic, navigator and all-round agreeable company. But something seems off today.

"What's wrong, Br'ri?"

"This job, the hkhrrry pay way too much for what the freight is worth."

"There is no such thing as too much pay. Besides, you know we need the money to pay off the replacement of our busted hyperdrive."

Br'ri only nods, her cheeks a shade darker as usual, the green spots more prominent. She still feels guilty for the stupid incident with the drive, and although Del doesn't actually blame her he is not about some teasing. He chuckles and gives her a mischievous grin. But then it is time to go back to diplomatic mode. They have reached the fright dock, there is a job to be done.

~ ~ ~

The trade patrol officer studies the fright papers with a deepening frown. Del can understand him very well. He checked and rechecked the papers himself. Like Br'ri he is pretty sure that there must be something wrong with this job. But unlike her he is determined to pull it through. They really need the money. He tries to look adequately relaxed as the two other officers come back to the bridge. Br'ri follows them with a confused look. The taller of the two humans hands his captain TPO a log pad.

"Everything alright, boss. There actually is oil in these containers. They contain approximately one litre each. All in all we are talking about thirteen litres of unrefined oil. I just don't get what anybody wants with this amount of absolutely worthless stinking liquid."