Outside, a fine layer of dust covers everything, a leftover gift from the previous night's sandstorm. As Dex reenters the ship after dealing with the Stormtroopers, he can feel the insidious grit grinding uncomfortably between his teeth. Luckily, the spaceport's well designed walls protected the ship from the brunt of the storm, for Dex is sure that there was nastiness beyond those walls that would have wreaked havoc had the Chop been still parked out on the mesa.

Upon entering the ship, he's greeted by Jarren and the Tin Man, as the Omwati so lovingly refers to him as. For once, Y-3P0 seems at a loss for words, probably because it can't identify any possible threats to it's continued existence with the Stormtroopers gone. Hence, the droid is blissfully silent with the exception of the occasional servo twitch. Dex bats the dust off of his clothing and out of the shock of green hair that he covets so much while explaining to the blue alien that the patrol will be returning tomorrow expecting a license. This leads them to a discussion of their cargo of gaming tables and what to do with them. After a short discussion, Dex is able to convince Jarren that the best course of action, given the circumstances and time constraints, is to contact the original buyer and attempt to close the deal, thus collecting the revenue from the tables as well as coverage for business fees. Throughout the discussion, Jarren seems preoccupied, toying with the safeties of his twin blasters, absently clicking them on and off. After agreeing with Dex about the gambling tables, his eyes narrow and he stalks off, ready to do some pest control. Meanwhile, Dex heads for the cockpit to make contact with the buyer.

Ducking through the bulkhead, Dex settles into the captain's chair and powers up the holo projector, punching in comlink 4459281 as per the manifest's instructions. A fuzzy, humanoid figure about 30 cm. tall appears a few moments later above the holo projector. It takes a few moments for the hologram to coalesce and solidify, although scan lines continue to trace the contours of the figure thereafter. The humanoid is recognizable as a Twi'lek (a male to Dex's utter dismay) who looks somewhat distracted by activites out of the projector's viewing area.

"Yes? Can I help you?" asks the Twi'lek.

For a moment, he wanders out of view of the holo cameras, but Dex hears a faint, "Stop that, right now! Go play outside." He pops back into the holo and finishes, "… and you are?"

Dex puts on his best pitchman's face and answers, "Greetings, my name is Dex, you must be Tee'Kal." The Twi'lek nods suspiciously. Dex continues. "It seems that we have come into possession of merchandise that was intended to be delivered to you. And, uh… assuming you are still interested, we're prepared to honor the same deal that you had with the previous vendor."

"Could you be a little more specific? What merchandise are you referring to?" asks the purplish-red Twi'lek. Dex goes on to describe the gaming tables, omitting the holos.

Tee'Kal looks thoughtful for a moment, his head-tails moving slightly with the mental effort. "You say you have the goods?"

"I do."

"And where might they be?" he probes, trailing off.

Dex thinks he senses a trap, so plays it cautious. "Safely in my possession on Tatooine. We're prepared to deliver them, but we're having problems with the Imperials. They're demanding a merchant's license. On the manifest, it says that you're prepared to to cover incendental costs, and if you're still interested in receiving the merchandise, you'll need to provide us with a license."

Tee'Kal spins, facing away from the camera, growling, "I told you to go outside! Now go! 1….2…." He turns back, "Sorry about that. Damn children. Where are you again?"

"There's that question again", Dex thinks. Does he put some trust into this Twi'lek, or cut bait? He opts to trust him some, after all, the alternatives could be worse. "Mos Taike," he responds.

"Mos Taike? They have a permit office there, right?"

"Yep," says Dex matter-of-factly.

"I can arrange a permit."

"Excellent."

At this point, a dark cloud crosses Tee'Kal Klahn's face and he leans in to the holo camera, obscuring his body and making his head fill up the projection space in the cockpit. Deadly serious and all business now, the Twi'lek whispers, "Jabba or Gardulla don't know you're here do they?"

Dex feels a shot of adrenaline shoot through his veins at the mention of Jabba's name. Jabba is a sluglike crime lord on Tatooine, as well as an important figure in the Outer Rim underworld. His criminal empire covers all of Tatooine and extends in one form or another as far as Nal Hutta, the Hutt homeworld. Variously feared, despised, respected, and admired, Jabba rules his world ruthlessly. Dex knows there is much more to Jabba's story, but has never before had the desire or imperative to research this galactic crime figure. The name of Gardulla doesn't set off any immediate alarm bells like mention of Jabba did, but the name sticks with him as somehow important. Survival insticts are honed razor sharp in Dex, and they are screaming at him, telling him to remember the name, because his future may hang in the balance. He does the best job he can of keeping a straight face, especially considering his prior experience with powerful crime figures.

"No." replies Dex. He's unable to get out more of a reply due to the dryness of his throat and the distracting wheels in his mind that are spinning rapidly now.

Klahn senses the fear, so is inclined to believe the human. He backs up to normal camera distance, his body solidifying once again with the ever-present scan lines. "Well, what kind of timeline are we looking at?"

Thankful for a change of subject, Dex regains his composure and responds, "We're undergoing ship repairs at the moment. Once we get a time estimate, we'll figure out if we complete the repairs here or in Mos Espa. Either way, it will be a few days."

Tee'Kal nods before issuing a final warning. "Whatever you do, don't draw attention to the cargo. You don't know who you're dealing with. There will be a permit at the office. Out." His hand reaches out of view before the transmission is abruptly cut off.

Dex leans back thoughtfully in the pilots seat, stewing on the ramifications of his conversation. Klahn seemed eager and willing enough to pay for his merchandise. The tables did appear to be worth an awful lot; 4000 credits seems like a steal. Dex's scheming, weasel mind wonders what angle the Twi'lek is working and considers alternatives such as taking the merchandise to the known crime lords instead, in hope of a better payoff. Why the ominous warnings though? Probably best to play the sure thing, get some money in pocket and avoid any kind of power games when the others are holding all the cards and information. Then again, it's hard to get ahead without taking risks. Vowing to think more on it later, but satisfied for the moment that at least he bought himself some time by going along with Klahn, he hops up out of the seat to go check on the others.

In the cargo hold, Ears' ears are sticking up over the deceased power droid, giving away her position. Jarren is sorely tempted to rush over and open fire on the pesky Kowakian, but, to the relief of Ian, the goodness buried deep down under the hardened exterior of Jarren's heart claws its way out and asserts itself, causing him to draw down and tuck his weapons in his belt.

At this point, Dex strolls in, ready to tell the good news about the gambling tables. Before he's able to, however, Jarren glances over at him, then looks over in Ian's direction. "I sure hope that Ian wakes up in his right state of mind. I don't think I can continue working with a crazy man. It's just too much of a liability."

Ian cooly responds, gingerly sitting up. "No Omwati, I am somewhat back in reality thanks to you shooting me in the back. I should be fully recouped once this massive headache goes away and my back muscles quit spasming."

Dex and Ian are quite surprised by this turn of events. Jarren sees a chance to take out his frustration. Dex, on the other hand, has an additional element of worry in his look, concerned that his version of the "truth" is going to be revealed as a sham. Jarren is only silenced for a moment before he lays into Ian in response. "There never was any real doubt. I just hope that if I was going around thinking that I was God and causing problems, that you would have the guts to try and restrain me in like manner. Oh, and Ian, please keep your girlfriend under control. Next time I just might really shoot it."

Following a quick glance in Ears' direction that privately elicits a painful head drumroll, Ian goes on, "Jarren, since I am back to reality now I would appreciate it if you gave me back my blaster. I do not intend to walk around this town or remain in the ship unarmed. Either give it back to me or I am taking some of these cards to sell to purchase a replacement. It's your choice on how we spend the earnings. Personally, I really want out of these clothes because I look like a complete idiot. Also, before we go anywhere I think we need to seriously discuss how we are paying for the repair of this ship."

"You'll forgive me if I don't readily comply, but I would like to make sure that you still don't think that you are a God. Lets just take things one-step at a time, shall we. As soon as we sell some of these illegal holos, we'll buy you a gun and get us all equipped as best we can. But first we really should talk about the trouble that you got us in to Ian. What we are going to do about the bargain that you made with Cal when you thought that you were a god."

Ian does a little math in his head: three blasters, three people. That certainly doesn't sit well. Nor does the stinging reminder of him making a deal with Cal, thinking all the while that vaporizing a few innocent illusions would be good sport. Now that the dream is no longer a dream, it's no longer a game.

[OOC: Let's take it from here. I'm sure you guys want to figure out what to do, so let the emails fly.]