Joah Maroon 1

I would most accurately describe the primary component’s taste as Strawberry Beef.
I was just about to choke down the last bite when an employee strolled by and scooped up my empty cup.  I hadn't expected anyone to do that.  All the other empties stayed put until after the guests had departed. I stared at the person's back as I watched them pass by other dishes that needed to be retrieved and returned to the food lift with only my cup in hand.  It wasn’t hard to pick up on that clue.
Looking back at my plate I spotted a tiny disc about the size of my thumbnail.  It was the same color as the table.  No wonder I didn't notice it when my cup was scooped up.  Casually I placed it in my chest pocket and finished my meal.  That was apparently my contact that just rushed by.
Maedas were humanoid but taller.  Yellowish spotted flesh on their exposed skinny heads.  Their short necks protruded from their chest, placing their facial features below shoulder height.  They all wore robes, though there was a great deal of variety between them.  Colorful patterns reminiscent of Africa and the Caribbean.  And they all wore soft boots on their stubby little feet.  Those were mostly black, but I did catch sight a some in gray and brown.  All dark colors for their footwear.
It was rare that one would try to communicate with a human vocally.  I shouldn't have been surprised by the manner in which I was contacted.  I just needed to insert the tiny data device into my console back on the ship to receive my instructions for my next visit.  My wrist communicator had a slot where I could slide it in, but I was stupid or anxious enough to take that chance.
Exiting the establishment, I saw three officers of the law look in my direction.  Unlike most of their kind their uniforms were a solid color, pale red.  They stuck out like a sore thumb, more literally than most times when that expression was used.
Did they know about the data disc that I just received?  Had they witnessed the exchange?  Or was it just my unusual size that drew their attention?
I stood a full hand taller than any human I had met since being rescued and carried a much more muscular bulk than was common in the modern galaxy.  It wasn’t the first time that I had been gawked at.  But these were alien cops.
I glanced up and down the spacious dock area like I was trying to get my bearings.  But I knew where my ship was.  It was just an attempt to look like a non-threatening tourist.  It must have failed because the three of them swiftly approached me, each with one hand up demanding that I stop.
“Stand still,” the middle one said in a synthesized voice.  Was he using a translator?  Why couldn’t they all do that instead of staying so distant?
This was the closest that I had ever stood to Maedas.  It made it much easier for me to notice differences between them.  One had a little orange tinge to his yellow skin around his mouth, nose and ears.  Another had patches of red hair in unusual places.  The one in the middle was more wrinkled and appeared to have a slight hunch in his back.
“Do not touch us,” the older Maeda officer instructed me.  As if I was going to reach in for a hug.  As funny as that sounded, it soon made sense when the other two took positions on each side of me.  They then faced their vocal comrade and waited.
Wrinkled Maeda then passed one hand threw the air slowly, like a wave of a magician or healer.  A shiny piece of metal reflected on one of his stubby digits.  The resemblance of the flash of a camera is what cued me in to what was happening.  We just had our picture taken.  The two younger cops wanted a photo with the big muscle-bound human than roamed the docks this day.
That was funny as shit until I thought about the possibility of exposure.  Were they going to share the photo on some form of Maedas social media?  Would my potential contraband buyers see it and shy away from me?
“You may go,” the oldest cop told me.  I didn’t need to be told twice.  That was a close call, but there was also the chance that my contact had seen the encounter.  I couldn’t think about that at the moment.  I needed to get back to my ship.
Our purchased cargo was just arriving on the dock as I returned to the lift that provided access to the Terran Capsule.  Weapons.  That is what we bought here.  Alcohol and drugs were banned, but they were the biggest arms dealer in the galaxy.
I contacted Portia with my wrist communicator to let her know that I was returning to the ship.  I preferred not to be greeted by an eager loader when the lift door opened, but that was exactly what happened.  It rolled only a meter forward on its treads before coming to a halt at what it must have been programmed to be considered a safe distance.  I stepped aside and waited as it continued by.  Before I could enter the elevator, the door closed and sent the car down to ship level.  The same thing happened when the second loader arrived.  By then the first one already had a crate suspended between its giant arms and was headed my way.
"Stop!" I yelled at it angrily as I jumped into the lift before it could beat me there.  It followed my order and let me descend by myself.  Once below I clarified with Portia that I expected her to halt all loader operation anytime crew members were coming or going.  That should have been a no-brainer.  But she didn’t have a