A delivery job

Oh my! You think to yourself, as you come across the following message:

Mercury class frigate crashed with cargo on Iona V in the middle of the jungle. Meet me at the bar next to the docks at the planet’s only town. Rest is discussed on the spot.

#Picture of the guy so you would recognize him.#

That one is really an idiot. You think to yourself. But hey! If there weren’t a bunch of complete and total lunatics in this line of profession, pretty much all veterans would have ran ashore by now. Including you per se. Excited, you plot the coordinates to the planet, and initiate the jump. The system says it would take eight hours to get there. Great! So you decide to get the best use of your time, and you go to your cabin to masturbate. Ironically, all you can think about is being ravaged by the gang that you just escaped from earlier. But you are not going to be a **** for the rest of your life. Period.

“So what’s the cargo? And how much it’s worth?” you ask the two most important questions in your life. After landing the ship, and locking it down with your security measures, your first task was to head to the bar that was mentioned in the message. Thanks to the picture, the guy was really easy to find: short, bald, with a long beard and an ovalic face. He is also skinny-fat in an uncomfortable way. Accompanied by a distinct odor one could never stop to appreciate.

“Shield batteries,” he answers in his own determined, but somehow freakish way. “The ship was running cargo for a private military organization. Obviously, some other corporation didn’t want it, so they shot it down, and now it’s still here.”

“If the cargo is intact, why didn’t they take it?” you frown. In the back of your mind, you expect to be grabbed from behind, and start getting gangraped. Gosh, it would be so hot! You think to yourself. Why aren't these things happen to me?

“It was one of the non-transponder ops. Get in, get out, without anybody knowing who you are. There were a couple cameras from the security frame catching it, but the hull was intentionally modified so you wouldn't recognize the type. Naturally, if they land, and fuck it up, everyone would know who they are, and the two orgs would find themselves in open war.”

“And how do I know if the shields still work?” you ask.

“Not your problem. Bring them back, and I will pay you a hundred thousand telers,” he answers.

“A hundred?” you can barely stop yourself from raising your voice. Then you have a feeling again. Looks like whoever was behind downing the ship is the same org who sent this guy. Who now deliberately disguises himself an idiot. Even if he gets caught, these guys die first before they would say anything. You know it from experience. And for the hundred thousand. Well... They are curious what the opposition has. And that's worth all the telers in the world to them.

“Ten in advance, the rest later,” he answers.

“Deal,” you say, extending a hand. But the guy just gets the bag with the money on the table from the larger bag at his side, gets up from the desk, and disappears in the crowd.

You see? An easy job, and all the money. You think to yourself. You turn around, and consider leaving for a moment. But this is a pub alright, and you could use some drinks. So perhaps you could have a good time first, and you could start adventuring later.