"I want that cargo off my ship," she said to the unkempt Mon
Calamari whose face looked out at her from a wall panel at the
entrance to the revetment.  Her face was impassive, her voice calm and
even, and from that the Mon Cal had drawn the assumption that she
really wasn't all that upset.  This merely showed that he was new on
the job and hadn't met her before.
	If he had, he would know that Rei Ayanami's face was always
impassive, her voice always calm and even.
	He chortled, a bubbling sound, as though he were underwater.
"Too bad," he replied.  "No refunds, no returns, sweetcake.  We loaded
the ship according to the manifest."
	"Someone else's manifest," Rei pointed out.  "My ship is
supposed to have 200 gross of carbonium rods on board."  She paused.
"Instead, it has 200 tribbles.  200 -loose- tribbles, since your cargo
jockeys couldn't even be bothered to secure the cages properly."
	The Mon Cal burbled again.  "You were loaded what, two hours
ago?  You've probably got 250 of 'em in there by now!  If you don't
want 'em, buy some poison.  Or a blaster.  Now, if you'll excuse me,
I've got work to do.  Cargo Control out."
	The screen went blank.
	Rei blinked at it, once, slowly.
	The rust-colored, turret-headed humanoid droid standing next
to her asked, "Query: Shall I go to Cargo Control and explain our
position more... forcefully?"  There was an audible eagerness in his
very human-like, mellow voice.
	Rei shook her head.
	"No," she said.  "Go back to the ship and see if you can round
up the tribbles."  Turning her head to look directly into the droid's
rather sinister faceplate, she added with just the faintest bit of
emphasis, "-Alive-, HK-47.  We won't be able to charge them back if
they're dead."
	The droid vocalized a sigh.  "Reluctant acquiescence: Very
well, Master."  He turned and trudged back to Bay 47, the picture of
mechanical dejection.