Following the standard security clearance, flight path upload and landing bay designation, the Crossfire eased to a soft landing on docking plate controlled by steady hands. Within the modified YT-2400 Corellian freighter cockpit, Ryn Norran began unstrapping his piloting harness, the buckle falling away from his chest with a slap of the palm. Standing, the young man began flicking several switches, powering down the ships flight systems and engines; while activating some of the installed security systems of his own design, as an added precaution, made valid through his occupation and such hazards that entailed.

In the Crossfire's cargo bay, a shipment of assorted foodstuff had been catalogued and given with the ship manifest. Beneath the product rested the real deal, the smuggled produce from Kessel that would at a later time be fabricated into the other substances that made the drug known as Severe.

Ryn walked from the cockpit, having given a glance to the approaching party from outside the ship. Standard procedure, according to the port control, not that the smuggler had any concerns; he had long since learnt how to deal and handle such protocols, and he had contacts and creds to burn if necessary. Moving through the lounge area, Ryn pulled his jacket from one of the flight couches, pulling the Nerf hide leather over his arms and adjusting it to be comfortable.

As Ryn reached the ramp way, the young man reached down to his right thigh, flicking the safety on his DL-44 BlasTech pistol. While considered illegal in some parts of the galaxy, the smuggler had yet to actually run into a Law official who gave a damn about the weapon; but of course, the fact Ryn didn’t frequent Law abiding locales, meant that the possibility of having the licence law thrown at him was near to none. Besides, if push came to shove, then he knew how to use the weapon. Simple.

Punching the ramp button, Ryn stepped down the lowering decking. Coming to a stop at the base of the craft, the smuggler gave a smile to the welcoming party. They all screamed of official professionalism, and the lack of genuine pleasantries hinted at a potential situation concerning the cargo.

Handle it when it happens, Ryn thought to him self, walking away from below the ship hull, taking a few steps to stop before the port control.

“Greetings, Mr. Olson,” Nodded an arrogant looking official, holo-pad clasped firmly in hand as he gave an apathetic glance over both pilot and then ship. “We welcome you to the Astoria, and once we have some formalities out of the way, we hope you can enjoy your stay.”

Ryn had given a false name, while having the added precaution of falsified ship transponder codes. In the smuggling business it never paid to be poorly prepared.

“From what we received of your manifest,” The official continued, his voice only adding to the arrogance his appearance allured toward. “You have brought foodstuffs to the station, correct? We have no registered contracts for supplies at this time, so can we assume the cargo is not for this station?”

“You can, yeah,” Ryn replied nodding. He looked to the other aid that stood nearby, the young woman seemingly taking an interest in the YT-2400.

“Could we enquire as to what your business is on the Astoria?” Continued the official, his eyebrow raising slightly as he stared at Ryn.

The smuggler had no doubt that the arrogant herder had some kind of degree in profiling, so he relaxed, simply telling the truth. “I’m here on business. I was contacted mid transit, being asked if I could consider a contract for shipping, so I decided to take a short break to follow the lead and see what its all about before continuing on my way.”

“I see,” The official said, nodding. “Would you mind if we have a look at the cargo?”

“If you want,” Ryn shrugged, deciding to play the guys bluff. “Access is around the back of the freighter.”

Leading the two toward the cargo entrance, Ryn activated the hatch with a flick of the ship control on his belt. Once the bay opened, allowing access, the smuggler stepped inside and switched on the glow panels. For all intents and purposes the cargo bay was exactly as it should have been; and when the officials glanced over everything, seemingly continuing the bluff despite the openness in accepting their test to look within, Ryn knew he wouldn’t be having trouble today.

“Very well,” The official said, making a note and nodding to his aid. “Things appear to be in order. We will let you be on your way, and we hope you enjoy your stay. Good luck with your shipping contract, Mr. Olson, good day.”

Ryn followed behind the officials, keeping a smile on his face as he closed the cargo bay. Waiting until the two left the hangar, the smuggler sighed and shook his head. He hated those types, he always would. Yet, now that they were out of his hair, he could focus on the business at hand.

Pulling his comm from his belt, Ryn activated the frequency he knew for his contact. “This is Olson, I’ve come concerning the contract you asked me to consider. If you could spare a some time, I’d like to discuss some business.”

Ryn knew that mostly every internal transmission on the station was monitored, and this was cause for the charade to continue just that much longer. As it was the smuggler had a contact on the inside, and once the drop was to be made [via hover-mover for the Kessel cargo], said contact would accidentally knock the holocameras installed in the hangar offline for a total of two minutes. With any luck, Ryn’s business partners were already getting prepared for the quick switch and replacement; after all, Ryn had to leave with just as many cargo containers as he arrived with, to keep the weight of the manifest accurate...