The crew of the Steel Condor touched down on space station Zexis within the hour. While the ship engineer Ratchett stayed behind, Captain Mansteele, Nero, and Crash exited the vessel and set foot into the marketplace. Zexis was a rather dismal supply depot but the boys had seen worse in their travels. Vendors were lined up along the streetway shouting out their deals and special offers. The culture was diversified with humanoids (those who retained a close to human form with minor trait differences like varying pigmented skin hues), amorphous sentients (creatures with a more amoeba-like appearance), Horde-lings (alien lifeforms who traveled in like minded groups consisting of large beastly brutes strapped in primitive tribal armor), and the everyday motley crew of exotic alien forms not easily classified.<br/><br/>“Alright, first things first,” Nero began, sliding his hands into his long, leathery and dusty overcoat, “Captain, why don’t you talk to the freight master and see about getting our supplies. Crash and I will head to the tavern and meet with the new hire.”<br/><br/>Captain Dirk paused, giving Nero a look, “But shouldn’t I be there, as the acting captain meeting with the very person I’m trying to recruit? Isn’t that what a captain does?”<br/><br/>“Yeah, a<em>real</em>captain.” Crash remarked, looking around the marketplace, the boredom already setting in. His eyes spotted a set of highly armored, bulky yet lean, suited soldiers passing through the commonplace, “Hey…heads up. Legion Squad.” The three men shifted to the corner of a stall just out of sight and eyed the troopers as they passed down the street and moved along. Watching them as they passed by and out of sight, the three emerged from the stall and exchanged glances. “The hell is the Legion doing here?” Crash Graves asked quietly with slight concern.<br/><br/>The Legion was a well known religious faction composed of an established hierarchy and a great amount of muscle to flex. What had started as a remote system cult had been spread through years of pilgrimage and converts. More and more of the masses joined, swayed or brainwashed into believing in the ways of the cult mentality. Eventually the profits from donations amassed into a small militia with a personal fleet. That would later join with large corporations, which meant more money. The group of radicals grew by the minutes. The Legion evolved into a massive fleet that rivaled the Galactic Armada and the influence spread like a plague from one quadrant of the galaxy to the next. Planets renounced their status with the Armada and fell into the clutches of the Legion, granting them government control. The Legion was the ultimate nightmare in terms of religion and politics having a dirty threesome with corporate cash flow.<br/><br/>(https://encrypted-tbn0.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcRPDgwji1I42HCbRZ6YqSVi1oyu_esNspkDUYtHJEj3Lko-QfeN)<br/><br/><br/>Nero thought it over a moment before reassuring his comrades, “Don’t know. Zexis must have been fallen or been signed over to Legion jurisdiction. The last thing I want to do is mix it up with religious zealots. Until we get back into Armada territory we should keep a low profile. Let’s get going. Captain, I believe you had a place to be?”<br/><br/>“Yes about that Nero, are you sure I shouldn’t be present to meet our new hand? I mean it would only be right for a prestigious leader like myself to uphold his role.” Dirk insisted slowly.<br/><br/>Nero put his hand on the captains shoulder and smiled, “This is true sir. But don’t you think it would be more financially beneficial if in fact the Freight Master was to meet his iconic hero of the stars? Why, if one was so inclined, such a touching and impactful meeting might find that hero with a discount on the purchased goods.”<br/><br/>“Whoa, whoa, whoa. You’re gonna let this guy go off on his own and handle our finances?” Crash asked, pointing up at the larger captain.<br/><br/>Nero nodded, “I don’t see why not. His face is the most easily recognizable of the troupe. If it means taking home a cheap discount on supplies for a celebrity appearance we can’t go wrong.”<br/><br/>“Yeah, screw that. Trusting Dirk to handle our wallets is like giving a monkestian a private piggy bank. I think I’ll handle the freight master. You two can go handle the tavern affair.” Crash grumbled, turning away and taking a step before Nero caught him by the shoulder. “Crash, I’m not going to find you playing in some backstreet shop dropping dice am I?”<br/><br/>Graves grinned, “Hey c’mon Nero, I told you that there would be no more gambling after that last incident on Quasar-Seven. You can trust me. Now go on, let’s get this show on the road.” The fiery haired pilot slipped away and set off down the alleyway behind the marketplace.<br/>Nero watched him go before shaking his head and motioning the Captain to follow, “Alright. C’mon. Let’s grab a drink sir.”<br/><br/>“Have faith in our compatriot Nero. Crash Graves is a man of impeccable fortitude. I trust him to do anything.” Dirk assured his first mate with a charismatic closed smile, saluting the civilians that recognized him as they passed through the crowds.<br/><br/>“That’s what I’m afraid of.” Nero replied with a sigh.<br/><br/>~~~~~~~~~~~~<br/><br/>(https://encrypted-tbn1.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcTRHAc4MV0ArSzGdBCXcAHQQecpqFBzqyuGkAUs4GPVZpsqGMQ8)<br/><br/><br/>The three men reunited at the bar later roughly thirty minutes later. The tavern was titled,<em>The Tipsy Turvian</em>, not the most original name and also a crude stereotype aimed at the Turvian species, simply because they were extremely sensitive to alcohol more than any other race. Crash was carrying a lot more money in his pockets than when they arrived and beaming quite proudly over it. Such things made Nero nervous. Captain Mansteele was signing autographs and exchanging banter with the customers in the tavern. This left Nero and Crash to seat themselves in a far corner to kick back and enjoy a stiff drink and freshly cooked grease filled food.<br/><br/>“So who’s the new face? What are we supposed to be looking for?” Crash asked with a slight frown, still not keen on the idea of taking a woman with them. The last time they had done so resulted in sexual harassment lawsuit against him. Then the second one had even less patience and forewent the suit and straight up shanked him in his sleep. Of course those two met with unfortunate accidents but not of his doing. One had been devoured by a crater worm on an excavation site. The second was accidently sucked out the cargo bay when the captain in all his genius had leaned on the ejection button from the hallway to fix a loose string on his boot. This was one of those times when Crash actually was thankful for the clueless Dirk Mansteele, much as he hated to admit it.<br/><br/>“I don’t think you have to worry about that.” Nero smirked quietly, tipping his drinking glass up to his lips and sipping lightly, “Not many people wouldn’t recognize Captain Mansteele. From what I’ve read up on this particular individual, we’ll spot her a mile away. Look for someone who has no idea who the captain is. Someone who’ll walk right past him, maybe hide in a corner to get the vantage point on the place. Somewhere she can see her exits points at all times. Y’know, the quiet observant type.”<br/><br/>“Shit Nero, what did you do, hire a fuckin’ Exile?” Crash quirked a brow. The term Exile was used to refer to a group of mercenary operatives formerly of the Galactic Armada’s black operatives. Reputation had them for being ornery and on edge. Silent and brooding. But most of all extremely dangerous. They were a rare sight these days which was more the better. Most Exiles found work as hired killers, bounty hunters, or enforcers. Armed with unusual technology and augmented abilities only raised the threat level when encountering an Exile.<br/><br/><br/>(https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/564x/18/f0/60/18f060c534f5c682489176ba47c22150.jpg)<br/><br/>“Not quite. This one is a little bit more interesting than an Exile.” Nero answered with a twinkle in his eye, looking across the bar in a steady gaze.<br/><br/>Crash bit into his burger, “Well she better get her ass here soon. What time are we expecting her?”<br/><br/>Nero nodded in the direction he was looking, “She’s been here for the last forty minutes Graves. Might want to get your eyes checked.” He grinned quietly. His gaze focused on a ominously distant woman in the far side seated at a table by her lonesome. While she did not exactly look brooding, she did have a certain air about her that spoke something was a bit more than what met the eye.<br/><br/>Graves glanced to the corner of his eye in her direction, “When the hell did you spot her? I hate it when you fucking do that! Do you think she’s made us yet?”<br/><br/>Nero set his drink down and reached into his coat, rummaging around for something, “About ten minutes after we sat down. She’s been watching us through that mirror by the corner of the bar. I caught her gaze in the reflection. Probably sizing us up and whatnot. She’s careful.” He pulled out a contract and pen, placing them down on the desk as a signal to the mystery woman. To anyone else it would look like Nero was simply reading over a report. But he knew she’d figure out it was meant for her. More than likely she’d already seen the contents of his coat from where she was sitting.<br/><br/>“Fantastic. Now I have two people to be worried about on our ship. You kind of people scare the shit outta me sometimes.” Crash remarked at Nero, giving him a quick glance.