Distress beacon central

As Sanson's pod cruised dangerously close to Imperial space, a small and repetitive beeping woke him from his nap. He tapped the side of his scouter to answer the call. "Yea?" He stated, mid yawn.

The lean terran laid back in his custom pod. He'd manually altered the seat to be leaning backward, much like a dentist's chair. Sanson was wearing his FGF issue armor, which he found uncomfortable, but there wasn't room in the pod for him to remove it. His blue-silver hair hung over his face. He brushed it aside to glance outside at the massive emptiness of space. The constellations moved ever so slowly. It seemed impossible that he was moving at faster than light speeds. The extreme expanse of space made such huge speeds feel like a standstill. The ultimate calm. He loved FTL. Perfect quiet. He never napped as well as he did during long FTL naps, and this nap was broken by scouter-call.

"Recruit, I've gone over this a thousand times, how many times do I need to tell you not to answer a call in such an unprofessional manner! " The voice of his superior echoed in the the pod.

"Probably just one more time." Sanson replied.

"Recruit! That was rhetorical! And refer to me as Sir. I am your better, so show me the respect I deserve.". Sanson sigh. He really didn't like his superior. He was an obnoxious authoritarian who didn't even follow the rules. Sanson didn't know how the guy managed to move up the ranks. He was strong though, so Sanson assumed that was the most important thing to the FGF; strength. It would take an immense amount to complete the force's main objective. Sanson didn't really care about that though. He needed strength for one thing and one thing only; to destroy the Ginyu Force. He'd set his ship on course specifically near Imperial space, hoping to chance upon a lone scout or the like.

He hung up the call and glanced out the window again. He blinked his eyes in disbelief. Floating outside was a vessel with the Ginyu insignia. Sanson quickly boarded and searched the vessel. Standing in the dock was a man who looked very similar to Sanson, but that was for good reason. The flesh and bones before Sanson belonged to the man who raised him, the man who fought to save his home, and his father. The man in that flesh was not his father, though. That man had killed his father, his home, and his entire race. Captain Ginyu. Somehow that monster possessed Sanson's father and used his strength to murder his own people. Ginyu pointed at Sanson and yelled in his superiors voice. "Recruit! Are you listening? I swear if you are sleeping.."

Sanson popped awake. Stupid dream. The voice in his ear was still yelling. "I've got orders for you. A distress beacon was picked up in your area. Check it out. A job has been put up about it, so expect backup to be on its way. Ganza out.". The call closed. Sanson yawned and stretched as best as was possible in the cramped space. He checked the ships sensors, and sure enough, there was a distress beacon just a short distance away. He set course for it and laid back to nap some more. Fifteen minutes; as Sanson laid back, and closed his eyes, he hoped this job would finally put him en route to defeating the Ginyus.

Sanson awoke from his short nap as his scouter signaled. It warned him that direct ship impact was imminent and it suggested that he change course.  After giving docking orders, he relayed a communications attempt to the distressed ship.  Sanson scanned the ship for identification, and his computer beeped quietly as it performed the scan.  "Hey."  He stated over the communications as he laid back and waited for a response.

A cold shiver went down Sanson's spine as he pondered who or what that voice might have come from. A few metallic clangs assured Sanson that the docking had been successful. With a slow hiss, the door to Sanson's pod slowly opened and he climbed out. Do to the reclined seat, climbing out requires a little more effort than in a typical pod. Sanson groaned as he lifted himself out of his lazy chair. His body still hadn't woken up from the nap yet and was fighting the idea of waking.

Sanson tapped his scouter and performed a quick scan of the interior of the ship. One life sign, power level 90. Not really much of a threat, but much stronger than some common individual. He'd keep his wits about him. After finishing the scan, he performed a couple squats to get the blood flowing to his lower extremities. "What exactly is your distre-" Sanson's voice broke off as a bulbous, sable, taffy man entered the cargo hold. His hand fell from his scouter, which ended the call.

"You sent out a distress signal to advertise!?  You do realize that space pirates and worse might pick up on that signal will eventually come, dismantle and salvage your ship and leave you here to die, or worse."  Sanson shook his head to try and get rid of the gravity of irritation that weighed upon him. "Look, crazy guy, if that is what you are."  Sanson was completely unsure of this things gender, as it showed no signs of either.  Sanson hated this part of scouting missions.  Establishing friendly contact with alien species was not something he'd mastered, nor had he any desire to.  "I'm not interested in buying any armor from you.  This is a Free Galactic armor.  It's the best you can buy outside of Arcosian design."  He pointed to the FGF logo centered on his chestpiece. "And even if this space armor you're selling was superior to mine, it wouldn't do me any good to be interested. This is uniform. I'm not permitted by the Free Galactic code to wear anything else while on a mission.  I can, if you're interested, contact my superior and inform him that you're interested in selling wares to the FGF.  I'm sure they'll make use of your wares, and buy them in much more lucrative quantities that you're liable to sell in a ship that's advertising by distress call."