The cantina’s chatter collapses into a wary hush as the matte-black drone slips in, red sensors ticking across faces and cups. It hovers beside Nahuli’s table and throws the stolen service spine map into the air as a blue hologram.
The scan is keyed to the map, not the room.
A few patrons edge back. Lahani stiffens near Nahuli’s shoulder, while the crowd tightens around the table, pretending not to stare.
The Dock Liaison
Identification. Authorization for that map. Now.
A compact station clerk in grease-stained gray steps forward from the bar, palms open in a calming gesture. Their badge glints under the relay flicker.
The Station Clerk
Easy. If you’re auditing the service spine, you want the log prefix on the public channel, not a room full of nervous workers.
The drone pauses, red pulse slowing. The clerk tilts their head toward Nahuli, offering a clean opening before the room decides to become a problem.
✓ Quest Accepted
Evade the drone’s identification scan
Director's note
We deleted everything on the datapad
“"We have nothing to hide."”
SUCCESS (Fair Diplomacy, rolled +1)
Nahuli
We have nothing to hide.
The drone’s red sensors narrow, then drift away from Nahuli’s face and over the open table instead. The clerk turns one palm toward the ceiling, as if presenting the room’s cluttered proof of ordinary life.
The Station Clerk
Then let’s keep it ordinary. Public log prefix, public channel, no escort fees, no theatrics.
The Dock Liaison
Compliance noted. Stand by for verification.
The blue map hologram collapses into a thin diagnostic lattice, then the drone’s projector blips amber and goes dark. Around the table, the crowd eases by a breath, but nobody leaves.
The Station Clerk
That’s it. Official eyes can keep their own receipts. You lot still wanting a bay with a lock?
Lahani’s shoulders loosen a fraction at Nahuli’s side. The relay feed above the bar crackles, then steadies on a washed-out station logo as the clerk waits for an answer.
Quest Complete
Evade the drone’s identification scan