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[AP] Brigant

"Is this wreck of a submarine, Brigant, yours?" a hoarse voice rang out, cutting through the silence of the station's docking bay. The voice belonged to a large man in a dockworker's uniform, with a bored look and a revolver at his belt.
"Docking costs 100 credits. And tell me your name!"
The ragged stranger glanced at his battered shuttle, adjusted his separatist captain's hat, smiled and replied.
"What do you say to 200 credits, and we forget the name."
The dockworker narrowed his eyes, but then nodded slowly. "Welcome to Tormsdale Outpost, Mr. Smith."