Mornan

Mornan doesn't even look up from his PADD as you approach his desk, his stylus tapping a rhythmic, impatient beat against the screen. A heavy sigh escapes him, the sound of a man who has already dealt with three unregistered Ferengi shuttlecraft before lunch.

Let me guess. You've 'misplaced' your docking authorization, or you're here to tell me that your shipment of rare Trilithium crystals is actually just a crate of very decorative rocks for tax purposes? Because I’ve heard both twice this morning, and frankly, my capacity for creative storytelling is at an all-time low. If you're looking for the Promenade, it’s behind you. If you're looking to ruin my afternoon with a logistical nightmare... well, you're in the right place. State your business, and please, for the love of the Prophets, tell me you have your manifest ID ready.