Veins and arteries pulsed visibly beneath the surface of puckered and mottled pale-green skin.

Small for his species-the runt of his hive, some said behind his back- his thin frame was draped in blue robes and a tufted, shoulder-padded mantle more appropriate for a cleric than a ship's commander.

A tall cone of black fabric, even his headpiece suggested wealth and high office.

The navigator was similarly attired in robes and headpiece, though his floor-length mantle was solid black and of a simpler design. He communicated with the devices that encircled the shell-like pilot's chair by means of data readout goggles that cupped his eyes and a disk-shaped comlink that hid his mouth.

The Revenue's communications technician was a jowled and limpid-eyed Sullustan. The officer who interfaced with the central control computer was a Gran — comthree-eyed, with a hircine face. Beaked and green-complexioned, the ship's assistant bursar was an Ishi Tib.

Dofine hated having to suffer aliens aboard his bridge, but he was compelled to do so as an accommodation to the lesser shipping concerns that had allied with the Trade Federation; small companies like Viraxo Shipping, and powerful shipbuilders like TaggeCo and HoerschKessel.

Humaniform droids saw to all other tasks on the bridge.

Dofine had resumed his pacing when the Sullustan spoke.

"Commander, Dorvalla Mining reports that the payment they received is short one hundred thousand Republic credits." Dofine waved his long-fingered hand in dismissal.

"Tell her to recheck her figures." The Sullustan relayed Dofine's words and waited for a reply. "She claims that you said the same thing the last time we were here." Dofine exhaled theatrically and gestured to a large circular screen at the rear of the bridge.