Mossfoot's Tales of Woe...

[mossfoot]

While planning my next exploration gig I continued working for Mahon in my Clipper, and avoiding trouble wherever possible. It’s currently called the Odyssey, but that was a placeholder name while the ID tags all got changed. I’ve been meaning to think of a proper name for it, because the more I fly her the more she feels like home.

Oh, I won’t be taking her on my next expedition. Definitely not. Viaticus Rex II is still my go-to exploration vessel, which is odd given that my Asp out performs her in every way. But I’m not ready to give up on the old girl yet. I’m hoping to make Elite in her, then maybe she can be retired.

But not sold. If life has taught me anything it’s that you can lose your ship and everything in it and no amount of insurance can buy it back. Best to have a backup lest you end up bumming the Pilot’s Federation for a Sidey loaner until you’re back on your feet.

I have plenty of reasons for loving the Clipper, but what happened to me the other day might just explain why she’s quickly becoming my favourite.

While doing salvage work for an Anarchy system in Mahon territory I have to check out every signal source—you never know when it’ll what you’re looking for. And there are folks out there who count on that, and set traps.

Gold. Tons of gold just drifting in space. I smiled as I dropped my cargo hold and rolled my eyes. Like candy from a baby.

I’d scooped up about four when a half dozen Anacondas arrived.

“HA! I can’t believe that worked! Get ‘im, boys!” called the lead Anaconda.

I closed my cargo hold and calmly boosted away, full pips in shields, the rest in engines.

The lead Conda was still hooting. “I’m such a genius, this’ll… hey, where you going? Get back here with my gold!” All ships opened fire, but I was already getting out of their weapons range and mass-lock ability. I didn’t even bother wasting a chaff on them.

I pulled that stunt on those dumbasses four times in a row. Sure it wasn’t a huge profit, but it was worth it just for the satisfaction.

Most pirates are dumb. They think it’s all about firepower and mass locking to prevent escape. And since the Anaconda has the most weapons and the largest hull, that makes it the best.

If they were smart, they’d be pulling the gold trap using Clippers.

[mossfoot]

Violet here with some bounty hunting math.

Ever go to a system that is going to hell in a hand basket? Where just about every faction there can agree on one thing and that is “pirates are bad” (unless said faction are pirates themselves)?

Stick around a while. Collect a bunch of pirate bounty missions. For example, I had four from one station, all for the same region of space. One wanted 3 pirates dusted, another wanted 5, a third wanted 9 and a fourth wanted 6. How many pirates did I have to blow up?

If you said 23, then your bounty hunting math needs some work. The correct answer is 9!

See, since all those missions are in the same region, and a kill is a kill, one kill counts on all missions. It’s not like I had to bring back ears or pelts as proof. You four factions wanted a dead pirate in sector X? You all got it. It’s the same one, but that’s not my problem. Pay me.

So remember, kids, when stacking bounty missions, only the highest number matters.

This message has been brought to you by the formerly living bounty hunter Violet Lonsdale, who believes all good deeds still deserve a decent reward.

[mossfoot]

I decided to hold off my next exploration trip a bit and just lay low in the local systems, not look for trouble—though it seems that Violet has been doing that for me behind my back. At least she didn’t get any extra bounties on my head.

I was back working my paper route for Mahon, but while waiting for my cargo to fill, I noted a number of requests for lost (or “lost”) items to be recovered. Black boxes, experimental chemicals, ancient artefacts, you name it.

I figured “Eh, what the hell?” and decided to see if I got lucky on the way back looking for them. Space is full of debris, and sadly much of it is recent. If you set your scanners right, you can pick up the faint dying frequencies of destroyed ships or the location beacons of cargo pods normally tuned for a specific corporation to locate and pickup. If you drop into every weak signal you come across, you can find some amazing things. Also a lot of crap.

Maybe I was just having a lucky day, but I ended up finding everything the yahoos at Dublin Citadel were looking for, plus about twice as much extra. I was sure to have the specific stuff they wanted.

The great thing about salvage is desperation jacks up the price. I got several times more for these goods than I would have on the black market. Sadly none of the leftovers could be sold on the open market, they still had their anti-theft beacons intact and the black market takes its cut to circumvent such things.

I had just gotten the last batch of goods back to its happy owner when another person swung by my hanger.

“Hey, I heard you were collecting lost goods out there?”

“Yeah.”

“Great. Some experimental chemicals were lost out in the Tellus system. Any chance you picked up some there?”

Fact was I had tons of extra experimental chemicals in my hold. I was about to go to my contact in the black market to unload them. But I hadn’t been to the Tellus system.

“Uhhh… let me check. Actually, why don’t you have a look at these containers and see if any fit the bill…”

The guy practically grabbed the first container he saw. “Perfect. Thanks.”

And with that he paid the standard recovery fee. He didn’t actually care what system it came from…

A woman poked her head through the hanger door. “Excuse me? I understand you’ve been locating ancient artefacts? You didn’t happen to find any in G 128-33?”

Had I even been there? I was at a couple that started with G, for sure. “Um, want to see what I have in stock?”

And that’s where it began.

---

“Congratulations,” said Violet during our next little chat. “You’re a floating junkyard.”

We were in my cargo hold, which was full of retrieved canisters, some of which were fresh, recovery beacons still blinking, others so old they were pockmarked with micro-meteors to the point where they resembled a teenager’s face.

I’d come to an epiphany of late—a large number of the people looking for goods did not in fact care where they came from or if they were the exact right kind, only that they got it (or a suitable substitute) to keep them from getting in trouble with whoever they had to answer to.

To that end, I had gone out and once again donned the cap of the galaxy’s garbage picker, filling my hold with the items that were in demand. Whatever was left over, and there was always a lot of it, found itself sold off over the following day as word spread and people came to see what I had in stock.

I had become my own black market. Heck, I was considering having a collapsible storefront set up that I could set up in front of the loading ramp.

“What amazes me is how you’ve never once been scanned by the police,” Violet added.

“Well, a couple of times I was, but that’s the beauty of the Clipper, she’s big, but she’s fast enough to slip in before they can finish their scan. And I’m in good standing with the Alliance and with Mahon himself, so they tend to turn a blind eye.”

“How much did you make on this run?” she asked.

“The requested pickups? About a million. Selling the leftovers? Another million and a half, either here or at other stations. Word is getting around, and business is good.”

“I guess it pays to be a garbageman.”

“That’s object retrieval specialist to you, missy. I’ve also decided on a name for the Clipper.” I waved expansively around the ship’s interior. “Say hello to the Dyson Sweeper.”

“Cleaning the galaxy one piece of litter at a time.” Violet scoffed. But even then she realized that sweeper could be interpreted in more than one way—it could equally apply to her way as well.

[SteveKing]

“Say hello to the Dyson Sweeper.”

What's wrong with the "Edgar Hoover"

...Oh wait, that would be a Fed name

[Bugbear]

Hey Mossfoot, loving the stories of your adventures but I can't help but think you're inadvertently drawing attention to some of the internal inconsistencies in the ED universe...

But, hey, you've got to work with the material you're given, right?

Seriously, though, keep up the stories. Enjoying them immensely.

Cheers.

[mossfoot]

Hey Mossfoot, loving the stories of your adventures but I can't help but think you're inadvertently drawing attention to some of the internal inconsistencies in the ED universe...

But, hey, you've got to work with the material you're given, right?

Seriously, though, keep up the stories. Enjoying them immensely.

Cheers.

I just see it as being clever and giving the people what they want

If they patch this I won't mind at all, and in fact I hope they do so. But anything that gives me story fodder (and some extra cash) is a good thing.

The way I see it the universe is constantly changing and being updated, not unlike real life. Right now all kinds of people are using (and abusing) personal drones, so what's happening? Laws are being passed restricting their use. Something new comes along, people find a way to use/abuse it, safeguards are added to prevent abuse.

Now if this was something broken (like the old supercruise shield exploit) then I wouldn't even use it. That's not in the line with the thinking of the game, and is a true exploit. But this doesn't feel like it's in the same category, and I thought I came up with a pretty clever in-game explanation for how it makes sense

[mossfoot]

I was taking the late shift for Mossfoot when the customer walked in. We’d had a full cargo hold full of various odds and ends and MF said the key to maximize profits was to always be available. So he was getting twenty winks while I was busy with the riff raff. Moss had in fact gone to the trouble of getting a tent to act as a storefront, bringing out a selection of canister types to let customers know what we had in stock, covering up the landing ramp and providing what he called a certain je ne sais quoi.

I said it made us look even more like a floating junkyard.

The man who’d entered was tall, dark, handsome, and would have been my type if I at all swung that way. But I was bored as heck so it was still hard to muster any enthusiasm, and the disinterest showed in my voice.

“Welcome to Mossfoot’s Magical Menagerie of Misplaced Mementos, how can I help you?” I said it about as brightly as a burnt out light bulb.

“So, you are dealing with stolen items, are you?”

That tone grabbed my attention, and only now did I realize the man was wearing an Alliance police uniform for Gateway sector. Ah crap.

“No, not at all, officer! These were simply lost and, uh, we’re providing, uh, a service to, uh, return them to their, uh, rightful owners.”

“For a nominal fee, no doubt,” the man said, looking at me like I was scum.

“I prefer to think of us as a charity with generous tippers, Officer...” I waited for his name and batted my eyelashes at him out of habit—don’t judge, I use every weapon in my arsenal when I’m in a situation—before I remembered I was not only in a man’s body, but one with a face that looked like it had beheld the opened Ark of the Covenant.

Goddammit, why did this have to happen to me during my shift? MF would have been much better suited for flim flamming the officer.

The officer’s eyes narrowed. “Officer Dillon. What kind of scam are you working? Claiming all the proceeds go to some charity for disfigured hobos?”

Geeze, what crawled up this guy’s butt and died?

“I’ve had my eye on you for some time, Mister ‘Moss Foot.’ You’re trouble. You claim allegiance to the Alliance, but I don’t trust you. You’re a smuggler and a pirate.”

“Hey!” He might as well have called me a lawyer.

Undeterred, Officer Dillon stroked a finger over one of the older canisters, and examined the dust. “And I consider you a threat to us, regardless of Edmund Mahon’s embracing nature.”

I didn’t like where this was going.

“Due to the interference of the Pilot’s Federation and the Alliance’s constitution, I am unable to do anything to you while you are docked here. But rest assured I will be keeping my eye out for you…and your ship.”

“I take it this is the part where you say I should watch my step?”

Dillon smiled. “No, this is the part where I tell you that if you come back to Gateway and I see you I will blow you out of the sky. I don’t care what your legal status officially is. I don’t care if you’re never been scanned I don’t care if you’re carrying nothing but puppies and chocolate.”

Officer Dillon turned left. “Consider this your going out business sale.”

[mossfoot]

What the hell did Violet get me into?

She explained as best she could and quite frankly I didn’t know what to make of it. I’ve seen some policemen with a hard on for the law before, but this guy… something about him seemed familiar.

Not that I ever met him, I mean something about him reminded me of something, but I couldn’t put my finger on it.

I figured it was probably nothing. I doubted I’d ever actually see this Officer Dillon out in the spaceways.

Boy was I wrong.

A few things I should point out. Officer Dillon isn’t some greenhorn trying to prove something by taking down a big fish. I’ve come across those kinds of officers before. I’ll be scooping cargo when an Eagle shows up, sees I’m full of, er, questionable goods, and open fire. I calmly put all my pips to shields and continue picking up my cargo, then fly off before he’s even got my shields down to half strength. Usually I complement them on their excellent aim as I leave, and assure them they’ll get me next time. Cops need encouragement that way sometimes. Don’t want them to feel bad.

Officer Dillon was not one of these cops.

“Submit to Alliance Authority Interdiction.”

I rolled my eyes. I didn’t know at the time it was Officer Dillon, and often times I just evaded interdiction, but this guy was good and so I submitted so I could boost out of there and save us all some time. Unfortunately I didn’t submit fast enough, so my ship spun out of control for a bit due to the speeds involved when I dropped out.

I’d barely righted myself when the Anaconda opened fire.

“JESUS!” I boosted and fled, but this guy had my shields almost down before I was out of weapons range.

“You are in violation of Alliance law, submit or be destroyed.”

More like submit AND be destroyed. “Hey, I’m clean! You didn’t even scan me! You just opened fire! What’s the deal?”

“I apologize. I thought I made my intentions clear to you before, smuggler.”

So this was Officer Dillon, piloting a police Anaconda. Rating:

Elite.

To reach Elite you need a lot of ship kills under your belt. A lot. If this guy was career police that means those kills were all pirates and smugglers… which meant he had a lot of practice.

Fortunately, I had a Clipper.

Of course he didn’t catch me, but I still had a job to do, and I wasn’t going to let some starched uniform keep me from it. So I kept on tracking signals and picking up stray cargo.

And he kept on coming after me.

EVERY single time I tried scooping cargo, there was the Anaconda, jumping after me and opening gun ports. If I was too long in Supercruise, he was interdicting me all over again. This guy was like a dog with a bone, and I was that bone.

“Geeze, this guy is serious.”

“Why don’t you just blast him?” Violet said. She must have peeked in at some point and saw the trouble I was having.

“I don’t shoot cops,” I said. “And neither do you.”

“Yeah, but this guy’s a real jackass. I’d make an exception. At least blow out his thrusters.”

“Tempting, but no. Ethics aside we’ll be wanted in Gateway, and I really don’t want to see Dublin Citadel welcome us with a 21 gun salute to the face next time we drop by.”

“Pity.”

“Yeah, pity.” To be honest I think Officer Dillon was counting on this. That he could be as doggedly persistent as he wanted and there was nothing I could do about it. He had the law on his side, and me? I was flying a stolen Imperial Clipper full of illicit cargo.

“Javert!” I cried out.

“Huh?”

“That’s who he reminds me of.”

“Huh?”

I kept forgetting that while I was an English major, and until recently, all her literary knowledge came from movies. “The inflexible and unrelenting policeman from Les Miserables.”

“Oh right. I think I saw the movie. One of them, anyway. Guy really couldn’t sing.”

[phkb]

Guy really couldn’t sing.

[mossfoot]

Officer Dillon lived up to his new nickname. My own personal Javert was relentless.

Whenever I returned to Gateway he was lurking somewhere in Supercruise, waiting for me. Then BAM—interdiction. Or he’d wait for me to drop to check out a weak signal and drop in unannounced, guns blazing.

This guy was obsessed. I found him snooping around my hanger at least three times when I set up shop. Maybe hoping to find something he could arrest me with, or just continuing to justify his vendetta against me in the space lanes.

I hadn’t had a chance to talk with him yet, so I confronted him as he left during his most recent inspection.

“What the hell is wrong with you? There’s Kumo Crew out there picking off T6s and Hudson supporters trying to hurt the Alliance in his name. Why are you picking on me? I’m on your side!”

Dillon looked down on me. I should mention this guy is tall. 2 meters easy.

“You are not ‘on my side,’ no matter what your official standing is in this system. Don’t flatter yourself into thinking you are the only troublemaker on my radar. Mahon’s a good man and he doesn’t deserve the likes of you coming in and undermining his efforts.”

“The hell I am! Look, pal, I was living in Alliance space way before there WAS an Alliance. I was there when there was still a Galactic Cooperative around. Now I might have missed a lot of what happened between then and now, but I get where Mahon’s coming from and what the Alliance stands for.”

“You do, do you? And those trade agreements you load up on while selling off your… junk. Where do you take them? Do you take them where they’re needed most? Or just to the nearest relevant station to dump off? When you fight in his name, do you care what ships you take down, or are you just happy for the merits their broken hulls bring?”

Oh. Ohhhhhh…..

It occurred to me that I could see the legs, if not the head of the bug Violet had told me crawled up this man’s butt and perished.

“You think I’m just along for the ride.”

“I think your actions do more harm than good. Those trade agreements you dump off with no regard can influence where the Alliance extends its influence. We have dedicated men and women analysing what key system are most suitable to extend our hand to, and you have been unloading in an anarchy system that doesn’t even have a stable government to sign on with. Those ships you shot down with,” he checked the datapad in his hands, “Eagle 5… A man, I might add, who abandoned the Navy for the sake of pursuing wealth. 39 Serpentis is simply the closest to Gateway, and all Alliance systems along its border are heavily fortified. It poses no strategic significance. And yet through all this you find yourself within one of the highest ranks among Mahon’s fold.

“You are a threat to the Alliance, Mr Foot, simply because of who you are, and I will see you destroyed.”

“Huh. Second highest, you say?”

“Indeed.”

“Wow. I bet a guy like that probably as a bit of clout. Lots of say over what the Alliance does next.”

“Unfortunately. No doubt you’ll waste those votes as well.”

I smiled. “Far from it. I assure you, I’m going to put them to the best possible use. See you around.”

When Officer Dillon left I got on the com system and spoke to my Power contact on the station.

“Hey, I just wanted to check up on my status with you guys… uh huh… uh huh… right. And what privileges does that entail? Uh uh… Trade bonuses, nice… new weapon type after long term service? Interesting. Votes on Alliance affairs? Yeah. How many of those do I get? Uh huh… uh huh… Great. Now, just one more question. Can I trade in my votes to get someone in the local police force demoted?”

[mossfoot]

I thought that would be the end of my troubles with my own personal Javert, but boy was I wrong. Demoted from Anaconda captain to patrol duty in a Viper, he still interdicted me at every turn. If anything I’d only made his obsession worse and further justified his hatred of me.

And of course I still couldn’t shoot back at him without getting in trouble.

It just got insane after a while. On more than one occasion this guy followed me right to Dublin Station and kept on firing as I tried to dock. Once, I jumped in at the rear of the station, and had to skin dance over the damn thing to avoid his fire, weaving through the habitation rings and solar arrays. He just didn’t care, he kept on firing anyway. How this guy didn’t get another demotion for that kind of reckless behaviour I don’t know.

One time, and I swear to God this is true, he somehow interdicted an interdiction. No joke. I was getting interdicted by a pirate, and was about to submit so I could show him the error of his ways, when suddenly over the coms I see “I have you now!” from Dillon, and BAM, he’s the one who drops instead of the pirate, who no doubt was still in Supercruise wondering just how the hell he pulled that off.

He wouldn’t be the only one. That should be impossible, yet Officer Dillon had somehow gotten between me and the pirate and took over the pirate’s interdiction.

I have to admit, I was impressed. This guy was good, it’s just a shame he’s such a massive butthead. Because of him I’d had to invest in shield cells to give my ship a quick boost while I’m scooping and he’s desperately trying to blow me out of the sky.

And it’s not like he doesn’t know it’s futile to try and take me out in a lone Viper. He’s just so angry and obsessed he just doesn’t care. Granted, my patronizing tone assuring him he’ll get me next time couldn’t have possibly helped, but seriously, there was no smoothing things over with this guy. Ever.

And then, just like that, he was gone.

I’m flying to Dublin Citadel and there are no warnings, no interdictions from law enforcement, no rage filled messages from Dillon. He was just...gone. Same thing the next time I returned to Gateway. And the next time. And the next.

Had he gotten himself killed? He made it clear I wasn’t the only guy on his list, maybe one of them had enough and spaced him? I’d like to think that it wasn’t someone like me, though. Hopefully it was some local pirate faction, and he went down in a blaze of glory defending law, order, and the right to have a pole up your butt so far you can brush your teeth with it.

I’m gonna miss you, Officer Dillon. You were the Wile E Coyote to my Road Runner.

[mossfoot]

“I have a proposition for you.”

Usually when a guy asks me that it’s because of the outfit I’m wearing and I have to tell them to get lost. Now that I’m in MF’s body with a melted cheese face, I know that’s not likely to happen again, so I assumed this offer was legit.

“What kind of proposition?”

The man smiled and opened a briefcase, showing me a variety of brochures and magazines. “I represent Kestral Defense Industries, and I think you and I might be able to do business together… Ranger M.”

Mossfoot’s brief and disastrous foray into being a public icon for the youth of a generation—God help them all. Last I heard Odyssey Expeditions had tried reviving the brand with a more kid-friendly guy who didn’t need to wear a mask, and instead wore a stylized uniform that walked the line between practical and superhero.

“Look, that’s way behind me, so—”

“Don’t misunderstand me, Mr. Foot. Your Ranger M…shall we say, experience?...is what brought you to my attention, but after following your exploits I think you’re exactly what we need.”

“What, to get as far away from inhabited space as possible and never come back?”

The man snorted. “Hardly.” He waved to my ship, which at this point looked like it could use a fresh paint job. “I’m here because of this. We don’t see many of these Clippers up in Alliance space, you know.”

Ah. Being an Empire ship, they’re a bit choosy as to who exactly can get their hands on one. Mossfoot on the other hand was a bit choosy about who exactly he stole it from. But the man was right, they weren’t a common sight in the Alliance, largely because you had to go through the Federation first to get to the Empire from here.

“We’re looking into working wish shipyards to develop something similar, and, more importantly, the weapons they will use. But the Clipper has, shall we say, a unique design choice in terms of its weapon layout.”

“It’s a right pain in the butt,” I said. Mossfoot might love the Dyson Sweeper, and I admit it flies well, but quite frankly I’ve never been happy with the weapon hardpoints.

“That’s why we want to hire you, to run some live fire tests using an assortment of different loadouts. We’ll install a device to monitor the results of each combination. We want to try a variety of things, focusing on gimbled and fixed weapons.”

“No turrets?”

“Not at this time.”

I was intrigued. “What kind of live fire tests?”

“There’s a civil war going on a couple dozen light years away in Hooriayan. Very intense. We’d like you to get involved, doesn’t matter which side you choose, and take on a variety of ships with each loadout. If at all possible, take down an Anaconda with each. If you feel you can.”

I smiled. “You wouldn’t be approaching me if you didn’t think I could.”

“True. But your combat record is…inconsistent. Sometimes you’re highly aggressive, taking on ships far more capable than yours and in greater numbers. At other times you’re more…shall we say, timid?”

I tried not to laugh at that. Wouldn’t MF just love to hear that? Timid. “I have my reasons,” I said. “What’s the pay like?”

We talked numbers for a while and I was satisfied. I’d heard about the conflict in Hooriayan, it was near G 166-21, an anarchy system, and was in danger of becoming an anarchy itself. When MF found out about this, that would be the argument I’d go with to justify my actions.

The real reason was I was sick of playing garbage man of the galaxy. Especially once Officer Dillon disappeared. At least he kept things somewhat interesting.

“Right then, when do I start?”

---

Mossfoot gave his reluctant approval to my contract with KDI, but trusted me to be smart about it. And by smart he meant a) keep him alive and b) not get him into trouble that would follow us around for the next year. What a worry wart.

The Clipper is a fine ship in terms of handling, but as I’ve often complained, its weapon placement leaves much to be desired. Most pilots opt for an all-gimbled approach, and that works fine, except when the enemy uses chaff. And trust me, if he sees you in a Clipper, he will. That’s why MF insisted on the single fixed beam, and I agree with his reasoning.

A Class 3 Beam packs more punch per second than any other weapon and melts shields like butter. The other Class 3 is a gimbled pulse, which uses much less energy, still packs a decent punch, and continues to keep the pressure on even when the beam misses. Plus if the enemy uses chaff, having one wonky pulse isn’t going to hurt your power reserves too much.

The Class 2 mounts underneath were gimbled multicannons. These were my choice. It can be hard to lead shots with a multicannon, especially in a big ship like this.

Anyway, the guy from Kestral Defense Industries had specific loadouts he wanted and reports on my findings as well as the data from the recorder they installed.

First up – full gimbled pulses. You ever see a really old move called Star Wars? I think they made about twenty of them or something, then an unsuccessful reboot of the franchise somewhere in the mid 2400s.

Flying full gimbled pulse feels a lot like flying an X-Wing fighter. It does a remarkable job taking down shields, but the problem then becomes the hull. This is why I prefer to keep something kinetic on board. I found taking down enemy hulls took longer, even when targeting subsystems. I will admit it does not drain energy very quickly, but as expected, chaffing became a problem.

(Right now I’m pretty sure MF would tell me to try using talcum powder for that. I’ve hung out with him too long, I think, if I can predict his lame jokes.)

Overall, it’s not a bad setup, but not quite my cup of tea.

Next loadout – Fixed C3 beam and Gimbled C3 Fragmentation Cannon. In theory a great combination. Beam to take out shields, frag cannon to wreak havoc on subsystems. The problem here is the Frag is only really useful against big ships. Anything smaller than a Python and most of those projectiles are missing, even at close range. Granted, a point blank shot on a subsystem is one of the best feelings I’ve had that didn’t involve a vibrator, but you’re getting yourself in trouble when you need to focus on trying to hit those sweet spots. This loadout is best used in a wing where everyone has a role to play, rather than someone going it alone.

Next up – fixed railguns. First they wanted to try two railguns, but that just seemed like a waste to me. They’re spread so far apart using both meant one would probably miss in all but the largest of targets. So I decided to power one down to save energy, and power it up when the first ran dry. Not a bad idea, it meant I’d get sixty shots instead of thirty.

In theory this is a good setup. A good railgun shot to a subsystem can put the fear of God in any pilot. The problem is division of resources. While you’re focused on getting that railgun shot your other weapons aren’t being used to their full potential. And that power drain means that if you want to fire more than once you can’t afford to be using your other weapons anyway. Not to mention the shot delay while the railgun powers up.

This setup almost got me killed. Twice. It’s easy to forget that you’re not in a small fighter when you’re flying a Clipper. You are in fact flying something much bigger than an old Earth 747. So while you’re focusing on lining up your kill shot, you are staying relatively still, which makes you a very large target.

Can’t recommend this layout. Hopefully they won’t have me use it again.

[mossfoot]

I’m having my doubts about this next mission. I suspect that somewhere in Kestral Defense Industries is a brain trust of people who have all these great ideas that look good on paper, but have absolutely no idea if it’s actually practical in real life. Take for example my latest loadout.

Given my feedback on the railguns, they wanted me to test a combination of fixed and gimbled weapons. Fixed beam and gimbled burst, with multicannon and railgun for cleanup.

What. The. Heck?

First off burst lasers are not all they’re cracked up to be. They use almost as much energy as a beam, but don’t do as much damage. Also the C3s simply don’t target subsystems well and have poor armour penetration, in my experience.

And a railgun with a multicannon? Okay, I get the idea. Do a bit of damage while your railgun charges, and even if you miss you’ve done some damage to the subsystem. In theory. In fact, the multicannon also takes a bit of time to charge up. I just don’t see this working rather well.

The worst part? The energy output meant I needed to upgrade my powerplant from a B class to an A. Not only does that cost an extra ten million credits, but MF was very keen on keeping the B. The B class powerplant weighs sixty percent more than the A class, but that extra tonnage is mostly armour plating. The A class might give you more juice, but ask any Elite pilot what they aim for in a dogfight and the answer is always the same—the powerplant.

Still, a contract is a contract, and I can always run away if I get into too much trouble.

[mossfoot]

The next thing I knew I was in space. I mean, I’m usually in space, but I was short about six hundred tons of metal surrounding me.

Floating in space, in an ejection seat. The Dyson Sweeper was now someone else’s trash to clean up. I now learned a new downside of being inside MF’s body—the stasis field doesn’t affect me when I’m in control. Remember, I’m hitching a ride on his consciousness, but I’m still an organic circuit wrapped externally around his brain like a wet napkin, technically separate from him and operating under different rules.

As far as I could tell he was blissfully in a coma and wouldn't wake up until a rescue ship came along and dropped us off at the medical facility in Davis Port. On the other hand I was fully aware of the fact that I was spinning in space, completely helpless, body paralyzed and technically dead. I was lucky I could even see out of the eyes that were frozen open.

Off in the distance was the glitter of lasers from the combat zone. Once ejected, the seat boosts you clear of the immediate debris, then provides a short one-shot hop in supercruise to clear you from the area of engagement before burning out That same one-shot boost also sends out a pulse to alert Search & Rescue where to pick you up.

A way better system than what they had back in my day. Back then you had to buy an escape capsule, and it was all too easy for a vindictive pilot to either shoot it down or capture it and sell you off as a slave. But things are different now.

Floating in space gave me a chance to reflect on what went wrong, and how I’d explain it all to MF once he came to.

My gut was right about the weapon layout. It was just too busy. Too much stuff to keep track of, and the railgun problems from before still existed.

This is what happens when you let nerds design your ship rather than pilots. They’re all about min-maxing bonuses and advantages and forget that in the real world you don’t have time to exploit each to the fullest. You need to make snap judgements and be able to think on the move.

Sigh… I’ve never been shot down before. MF? Sure, quite a few times. I even shot him down once. It’s how we met. Me? Hell no.

So what went wrong, I hear you ask. Well, it was a domino effect of mistakes that began with that crap weapon loadout, and continued with having the unarmoured powerplant. During the confusion of battle dealing with four different weapon types being used in two different ways, with various delays and heat management to worry about, I forgot to use my shield cells correctly. But none of those things are what got me blown up.

No, that was all Officer Dillon.

Jesus, I thought Mossfoot’s Javert was dead, but no. He’d left the police and joined with the Alliance military to fight the good fight to keep Hooriayan within her fold. I learned later that Hooriayan was his homeworld, and he’d been given command of another Anaconda. It turned out we were fighting on the same side.

That didn’t stop him from switching sides just to blow me out of the sky.

Officially they’re calling it an IFF failure, and an unfortunate accident. Yeah right. I’m lucky I ejected in time. Right after he took out my power plant he was aiming for the cockpit, hoping to fry me as the seat jumped clear.

So that left me drifting in space to watch the fireworks from afar until the rescue ship arrived and scooped me up. It was almost comical inside there. He’d scooped up two other pilots before me, and we all had frozen looks of terror on our faces.

But none of this was the worst part of the experience. That came after we returned to Davis Port and the medical team took us to Recovery. I finally blacked out as they administered some drugs and got to the work of resuscitating Mossfoot’s body.

And then I woke up.

By all rights it should have been MF that woke up. I looked over at the doctors and nurses and they were all looking at my readings with concern. Specifically my brainwaves. I heard them mutter about this being highly unusual. Then they came over and examined me, asking me questions, looking back at the scanners.

“What’s wrong?”

The doctor checked my pupil dilation for what felt like the fourteenth time. “Do you feel normal, Mr. Foot?”

“As normal as ever after being in suspended animation in a vacuum,” I answered.

“It’s just… well, our equipment must be faulty. Never mind. Get some rest and we’ll talk in the morning.”

“No, wait, what is it? What’s wrong?”

“It’s just that according to these readings, you shouldn’t be conscious. We’re not getting any significant brain activity from you at all, though we are picking up some odd electromagnetic interference from a strange implant that might be affecting the readings. According to the brain scan, you shouldn’t even be alive.”

Oh no, he had that wrong. I was alive all right. It was Mossfoot I was worried about.

[SteveKing]

Looking on the brighter side Violet, you've got a little more time to shore up your story for when MF comes to We're rootin' for you both.

btw, hope the cat made it (or was it safely ensconced back at a station)?