The Terran stood alone by the view windows, watching a simulation of real space go by, knowing full well it was not real light, since they were in FLT drive status, but appreciating the approximation as the display of starts he would have seen at any moment had they dropped into real-space was continuously refreshed in a relistic way on the windows at the forward end of the ship's saloon.

He frowned, noticing a familiar pattern in the dots of lights representing the distant stars swooping by; he took a small laser-gauge out of his jacket and peered through it, measuring angles. He looked around -- this end of the saloon was empty. He tapped in that same musical rhythm on the shiny golden pin on his tunic, bent his head and spoke quietly into it.

"Cornucopia, Cornucopia. Enterprise bearing directly Crab Bottom. Local situation stable. Rumour of pirates in vicinity. Dogsbody out."

He wandered aft into the more populated sections of the saloon, and noticed Ol' Spaw, once feared throughout known space as the Devil Dog of the Spaceways, limping over to a table looking vaguely irritable. He haled him and offered to buy him a drink. Maybe he could cast some light on the matter of pirates...he was practically a pirate himself!