Oolite Bulletins

good stuff Mossfoot....

Powdered Tea is the most foul thing i have ever tried... fortunately it hasnt been sold in the supermarkets here for 30 years!!! Even then it was a rare find... but i had to try it didnt I? How bad could it be? Let me see... forget one for each person and one for the pot, no this stuf was more like 2 for each person and 10 ish for the pot. then left to stew for a week the tea decanted off and vaporised to powder and then the dregs dried out ground down and added to the mix.....
Delicious.... NOT!!

So in short it was something almost, but not quite, entirely unlike tea?

- Neelix

Neelix wrote:

So in short it was something almost, but not quite, entirely unlike tea?

- Neelix

The SuperHub's got more bars and clubs than the planet's surface. It is party town, and for the first time in my life I was feeling the old me coming back.

What did it matter if I had a lousy Adder? I'd already got a good 20K put away, I'd be buying back my pleasure cruiser in no time. And with all the tricks I'd learned since it all went wrong? I wouldn't just be living off my dad's fortune, I'd be making my own. As for dad's protection? Well, this magic ident crystal seemed to have all that covered. Clean slate, and nobody seemed to know who I was. Maybe they didn't care, and I was just fine with that.

Now, if I decided to use Ceesxe as my base of operations, then the SuperHub was going to be my home. This place was class, money, and style all the way. I'd need some new friends--that is, connections I could shmooze into getting things done for me. Wouldn't hurt to develop a bit of a posse to help get my reputation to spread here. Maybe my news report on Erehwon would get me some traction. You know what they say, first you get the money, then you get the power, then you get the women... preferably in a Jacuzzi on your new pleasure cruiser. Yessir, the SuperHub was home.

I know what you're thinking. Aren't you falling into old habits? Aren't you becoming the same asshole you were before this started? Haven't you learned anything?

To you I say, shut the hell up. I was enjoying myself, really enjoying myself for the first time in God-knows-when.

So naturally it all had to go to hell.

I went to a bar that I figured would become one of my regular joints - Space Seed. Simple name, bit of a double entendre if you play it right, and it looked like the kind of place that wanted to have fun. Fun is good. People having fun are people who are more likely to listen to you, like you, and eventually do things for you. Fun is where things start.

They had a light show going on with the live music, but it wasn't an all out black-light kind of place. You want a place where you can see one another if you want to do more than get drunk and dance. Not that I wasn't going to do that as well.

Well, I was going to...

... until I saw The King.

I'd never bothered asking his name, but I'd never forget that face when I flushed him from the scoop of my ship. That biker's beard and eyes that had been replaced with black cybernetic implants.

"S.O.S. This is the ASL Princess Cruise requesting assistance from anyone out there! Mayday! Mayday!"

The ASL Princess Cruise surrounded by pirates. Better armed and equipped fighters trying to defend her so much space debris. I had the lead hostile Sidewinder in my sights.

"Hail to The King, baby."

The escape pod going straight into my scoop. A cloud of white blips on my radar. The Princess Cruise gone with all hands on board.

"What do you mean you let him go?"

GalCop's liaison telling me about the "ongoing investigation" and the fact the man who orchestrated the attack had to be released.

Two weeks later: 4004.

There he was. The King. Laughing with a group of men and women like he was... well... The King.

I had no weapon on me, but even if I did I doubt I would have pulled it. What pinged at me was far more primal. It demanded blood, the old fashioned way.

I suppose this should be the point where I tell you this wasn't The King.

His name was Herman Milquetoast (stage name Rageonaut Prime). Just a rockerboy who dressed like a pirate for his gigs and chose that particular look because he saw it on the Snoopers and thought it was "gnarlific".

It kind of takes the cathartic release away and replaces it with an uncomfortable sense of dread when I describe the tooth I knocked out or the bottle I smashed over his head soon after. Also it makes the table I turned over on one of the women and the chair I smashed against the back of a friend of his a lot less justifiable.

It went on for a while, eventually leading out of the Space Seed and onto the street--via the window.

Let's just skip to where I'm in jail, shall we? I'm really not proud of what happened after that.

The GalCop officer sat across from me in the interrogation room, tapping his finger on my ident crystal. At least that was going to come and save the day for me again.

"You think this is going to protect you?" the man asked, a large bear like creature (that of course was in no way like a bear, but lumped into that category anyway). His body hair was closely trimmed with that clean cut "don't-screw-with-me" look that suggested he bent the rules for no one. And apparently he was psychic, too.

"I said I was sorry."

The bear leaned forward. "Sorry? Do you have any idea how much personal and property damage was caused in and around that bar?"

I was willing to bet it would be somewhere around 20K. That was how my luck went.

"Look, it was all a misunderstanding. I thought that man was a notorious pirate known a--"

"And by 'that man' I assume you're referring to the rock star who is currently in a body cast after you threw him off the walkway?"

"He landed in a fountain."

"Which was not intentional. Witnesses reported you saying, 'Who the hell put that there?'"

I bit my lip. Honestly I didn't know what I could say to get out of this. It seemed the ident crystal's privileges only went so far. "So, what happens now?"

The bearman sighed. "You're lucky the Navy is in system. If they weren't, I'd be happy to lose you in paperwork for a long time. But the moment I checked this they contacted me and asked me if there was a problem."

Their oh so polite way of saying there is no problem, understood?

"It's not like the Navy doesn't cause their own problems here on shore leave, but this was just... excessive." The officer cracked his very large knuckles. "I don't like excessive, unless I'm involved."

"I'll be sure to invite you to the next party," I said.

The bearman slammed both of his paws down.

"THERE WILL BE NO NEXT PARTY!" It took him a moment to regain his composure. Which was good, because it took me a moment to decide if I needed to change my underwear or not. "I may not be able to hold you for this, but I can ban you from entering the SuperHub again. Your ID is registered. You are no longer welcome here. Am I understood?"

"But... but... I like the SuperHub." I'm pretty sure I don't need to describe how pathetic that sounded.

"THE SUPERHUB DOES NOT LIKE YOU BACK! YOU HAVE BEEN UNLIKED! BEGONE!"

So that was that. Now every time I fly into Ceesxe I have to head to the crummy old Dodec station, and I see party central glinting in the sunlight just off the planet's horizon. I can almost hear the music playing as I drift into the cold, lonely docking bay.

"You have been unliked" LOL

At the Ceesxe Dodec station I kicked a can of low-cal evil juice down the hanger, still smarting from my recent banishment. Stupid SuperHub, didn't want to party there anyway.

I hadn't bothered coming here before, and from the looks of it, neither did a lot of people. The party that was the SuperHub had relegated the Dodec to a purely functionary role, dealing only with large bulk transfers to and from the planet.

The only bar on board still open was called the Last Tap. It was actually called the Last Stop, but the S had fallen off and rust had run from a nail holding up the o giving it the tail of an a. In it was a collection of burnt out cargo runners only interested in the zero-g cricket scores or getting drunk enough to forget their problems.

Hell yeah, I could get behind that.

I was about to order when a voice said behind me.

"He'll have a tea with a touch of whatever will make his head spin added in."

I knew that voice. "Redspear?" I turned around and sure enough the former pirate was right behind me. "The hell are you doing here? The last time I saw you was in--"

"Yeah, I know, but after you blabbed about me messing with the Chronicles' cameras I decided to find greener pastures, lest some copyright lawyers came after me. The Chronicle might have got permission to use Brad Jolie's image, but I didn't. You know how those lawyers can be. Why do you think I was a pirate?"

"Better ethics," we said at the same time, and he sat down next to me. I caught him up on my recent troubles and banishment and he shook his head when I got to the whole bit behind the fight.

"Ah... The Reboot. Glad I got out of the game before 4004. You know, when I was doing raids it wasn't about the money. It was about survival. The world I was from, what you'd call an Anarchy world? It was one of those places strip-mined and exploited by the corporates, then left to rot when they were done. We picked on food transports and yes sometimes blood was spilled, but it was either that or starve. And it was far less than they'd done to us."

I shrugged. "You don't have to justify your Robin Hooding to me. I've seen how it is."

"Yeah, but the Reboot? That was about something else. I see some of my old buddies now and then still living the life. It's become something else. The way they talk, it sounds more like revolution, making omelets and breaking a few eggs, and by eggs they mean worlds. Scares the royal piss out of me."

My spiked tea arrived. "So what are you doing now?"

"Ship sales, actually. Got a used lot I won after a hot night at the Hoopy Casino and a private game afterwards."

"Nice. What do you carry?"

"Well, lad, I could tell you about all the different ships I have. I could. Or, I could take you there and show you the one ship you really want."

I downed my tea in one go, almost scalding my throat in the process. "Let's go. This place is dead anyway." I nudged the pilot sitting next to me as I got up and he fell over.

The bartender looked over at the heap on the floor. "Ah, hell. Bob, it's Norm again. Get the defib!"

"Let's go faster," I said.

Redspear led me to his used ship lot, past old Cobras and Morays, right up to the gleaming yellow hull of a new Fer De Lance.

"Beaut, ain't she?"

"She's even the same color as my old ship..." I said.

"I thought you'd like it."

"I do, but it's not like I can afford it."

"Yeah, they are a bit overpriced, aren't they? But you know, I figure if you want, I could set it aside for you. Sell it to you at cost, maybe a bit of a loss."

I looked perplexed. "Why?"

"I can afford to. I had a VERY good day at the Hoopy Casino."

"No, I mean why do this for me at all?"

"Eh, you and I might have been born on opposite ends of the economic spectrum, but I reckon we've kind of met up in the middle now, you know? I get where you are, because that's how I felt starting out. And you get me because you've had to claw back from virtually nothing."

"Nice speech. Now the real reason."

Redspear grinned. "I'd like to look at your ident crystal again. Nothing invasive. No hacking. Hell, I don't think I could if I wanted to. I just want to see how it's wired, so to speak. That little thing is a lot more complex than anything I've ever seen."

I thought about it. I didn't see the harm, of course, but our casual friendship was not the same as trust. Right now that crystal was the only real edge I had in the universe. But maybe Redspear could clear up some of the mysteries around it.

I was about to agree when from underneath the hull of the Lance I saw another ship further off. I recognized the sweet angles of its dagger like tips and the bulk of its hull right away.

"You've got a Kit Kobra Adder?" I asked. "You don't carry the kits by any chance. I was thinking maybe--"

"No, that's not a Kit Kobra. Can't carry those for insurance reasons. Though I can sell the kits. No, that there is a Neolite Hobby."

My mouth dropped. This was the first time I'd seen an actual Neolite in a shipyard. I'd seen some in the docking bays, and of course some Kit Kobra refits, but never the real deal for sale.

"Can I have a look?"

Redspear nodded. "You know, you might really like this..."

Most Hobbys and Kit Kobra Adders I'd seen were blue, but this was a nice shade of green. It looked much the same as the refit I'd lost, but there were some subtle signs that this was designed this way, and not built around a different frame.

"The thing with the Kit version is, it's still an Adder underneath," Redspear explained. "Honestly it's just so much unnecessary padding just to make it look right. That's a real pain if you ever get stuck with a Trumble, by the way. But the Hobby? Sure, it's based on the Adder's capabilities and specs, but it's also designed this way. It makes use of all that extra space. Want to look inside?"

I did. The ramp lowered and we went in.

I couldn't believe what I saw.

It felt... huge. I'd read it had more space, but I figured that was a relative term. Like how a baseball is bigger than a golf ball. Doesn't exactly matter when you're used to a medicine ball.

"Yeah, Neolite knows a thing or two about comfort. And feng shui, too. A dragon could definitely be happy walking around here."

While the cargo limits were about the same, they had taken the relatively cramped Adder quarters and made it much less claustrophobic. I suppose a stingy designer would argue it was a bad design because you could squeeze another ton of cargo space out of it, but I wanted the Fer De Lance all those years ago because I understood that not everything was about the ship. The pilot demanded comfort. The pilot deserved comfort. And I could live with giving up an extra ton or two of cargo if it meant having all this room to live.

"What are the specs like?" I already knew this but wanted to hear his take on it.

"Well, they dropped the missile slot to make room for an extra energy bank. A mistake, some say. A hardened missile can go a long way to getting you out of a tough engagement. Give you the time you need to run."

"But an extra energy bank means your shields charge faster, and your weapons don't drain you as much. Not to mention ECM use." I knew the way that I liked to fight (or run away) and this definitely appealed to me.

"Other than that and the much larger cabin it performs much like an Adder. Same cargo limits, standard and expanded, same speed and maneuverability."

"How much?"

"Stock? 65K. They want to be competitive with the Adder's sticker price as well as trade-in value. But this isn't stock. She's already got a military laser installed, plus some other stuff under the hood. Say, 72K, after our buddy-buddy discount and a promise to look at your ID crystal?"

I had no idea how long it would take to rebuilt the life I once had, but just one look inside here and I felt if I was stuck inside this for the rest of my life, it might not be so bad. I wanted this ship. I didn't just want it. I wanted it to be mine.

"Throw in a can of black spray paint and you've got yourself a deal."

"What's the spray paint for?"

I smirked. "Marking my territory."

""I'll be sure to invite you to the next party," I said. "

< snicker> gotta love a smartass!

"What's the spray paint for?"

I smirked. "Marking my territory."

I'd been wondering about the name "Mossfoot" for some time. A code name, perhaps? Maybe just a handle some guy went by. Whoever he is, he certainly hadn't cared about me impersonating him. Maybe he's got more identities that just this. Who knows? Whoever he was, that's the past. Who am I going to make him in the future?

I took the black spraypaint and started work, laying down the cutout and spraying evenly over it.

"You know, I could get a pro to do that for you for cheap," said Redspear down below.

"Naw, the stencil was enough. I want this to have a personal touch to it."

So who is Mossfoot now? Terror of the universe and a force not to be reckoned with? Naw. I might love the Hobby's extra energy bank and the room for comfort in the cabin, but it's still just a fartweasel of a ship in the grand scheme of things. Still, that kind of underestimation probably saved my life back in the Princess Cruise attack.

Maybe a crafty shadowy assassin? Who am I kidding? I'm about as low key as an engine going critical. Also, not really into killing people who aren't trying to kill me first. Cunning trader? With 5 tons of cargo space? Not likely. Miner? Nope. Bounty Hunter? Nope. Pirate? HELL nope.

"Did you register the ship's name?" Redspear asked from below the ship.

"Yep." I was starting on the name now. The stencil kept it neat, but it wasn't going to be a work of art. It wasn't supposed to be.

"Yeah, that's what I was afraid of. How can I help you, Officer Davis?"

A voice down below said. "Mr. Spear. I'm here because of another violation."

I peaked down over the ship's side. A scrawny balding man with a clipboard was there. Clipboards are always bad news. "Hey, Redspear. Who's the asshole?"

"The orifice in question is here to have you revise your ship registration, along with any... external references to its effect."

"Say what?"

"GalCop Regulation 14.7 section B: No vessel shall have a ship registration that is considered profane by any of the major sentient species."

I looked at the name I'd just spraypainted on the hull. That was profane? "Get the fuck out of town."

"Mr... Foot, is it?"

"This guy really doesn't get the idea of single word names, does he?"

"I don't know. I could get used to calling you Moss," said Redspear.

"Moss works. It's actually derived from Moses, I think," I said. "Does that mean I can call you Red? Or how about Spearmint?"

"I get called worse."

"A-HEM!" Officer Davis huffed. "If you two are finished."

"I got more," said Redspear.

"I could write a book," I added.

"Your ship will not be allowed to leave with its current registration. I'm here to request you provide an acceptable name or allow a random hexadecimal reference code to be used."

"I'm sorry, what exactly is profane about the ship's name?"

"It is a well understood abbreviation for something that is unacceptable."

I swung my legs over the hull and looked down at Davis. "Is that a fact? The fact it also stands for my name--"

"Is irrelevant. The common parlance is all that matters. I refer you to Regulation 14.7 section C where it clearly states that what constitutes profanity is up to the discretion of the officer in charge. Myself."

"He came in the other day and stopped a guy from naming his Boa 'One Eyed Snake'," said Redspear.

Davis huffed again.

"As you can imagine, he's really popular with cargo haulers here. Most just get their ship registered at the Superhub."

Davis shrugged. "There it is not my problem. Here it is."

And of course I had a ban going on there. This guy was too straight an arrow to take a bribe. Violence, while pleasurable, would only get me banned off this station as well. And I needed Ceesxe to make some easy money still. The Hobby still had a ways to go before it was fully kitted out. I guess his anal attention to the rules might work against him.

I hopped down off the ship. "So, did you bother looking me up when you made your decision?"

"I don't rightly care who you are, Mr. Foot."

"Uh huh. Have a look now." I handed him my ident crystal. It was worth a shot.

He slotted it in his clipboard and scanned the information. His eyes almost fell out of his head.

"I... er... I suppose this might fall under Regulation 14.7 section F regarding special exceptions for... special personnel."

"Yeah, that's what I thought. Let me have a look at that, would you?" I looked over his shoulder but irritatingly all I saw was a red window flashing with the words "SECTION W". The hell did Section W mean? Whatever it is, it made this guy take notice. Not in a pants wetting way, sadly, but I suspect that's because he didn't know anymore about it than I did, only that it was above his pay grade.

"So, we good?" I asked.

"Yes, sir, Mr. Foot, sir."

"It's Mossfoot. One word. And this is Redspear. One word. Get it right or the next name you hear will be Mr. Foot-Up-Your-Ass. Capiche?"

"Yes, Mr. Mossfoot."

"Good enough. Now fly off to your little desk and push some more pencils or I will mock you further."

Officer Davis nodded and scurried away.

"That was fun," I said. "Remind me to name all my ships here."

Redspear looked at my new Hobby. "You sure about the name? You don't want to tempt karma, do you?"

I shrugged. "Naw. It fits."

"With that logo?"

"Especially with that logo. Get her sent to the docking bay. I want to take her out for a spin."

I'd thought long and hard about who this new Mossfoot is, and he's me. Not the best or the bravest, not the richest or most powerful. Just a guy who knows how to not take himself or life too seriously. A bit of a joke when you get right down to it, but once cornered? Well, I'm still alive, aren't I?

When the ship got to the docking bay I hopped in, strapped myself in and took off. After my encounter with Officer Davis it was gratifying to hear traffic control say, "Bad MF, you are cleared for launch from Bay 1."

"Roger that, Control. Bad MF taking off."

As for the logo? The thing you have to remember about teddy bears is, they're still based on bears. They seem cute, friendly, slow and lumbering, but you never ever want to get in a fight with one.





****

FYI the logo is based off this:



Thanks to Redspear for helping me out with it

So MF has finally made an appearance.. nice!

(that reminds me.. I need to get back to reading his adventures)

"A-HEM!" Officer Davis huffed. "If you two are finished."

"I got more," said Redspear.

"I could write a book," I added.

briliant....

is BadMF a reference to Bad Wolf from Dr Who?????

No, just that someone pointed out that when a character called mossfoot "MF" in the comic it seemed like they were calling him "motherf**ker" and somehow I was reminded of Pulp Fiction and Samuel L Jacksons wallet that said "Bad Mother F**ker" and just rolled with it.

I think some harsh language control might be required here. Although there is no insulting context in mossfoot;s earlier post, please keep in mind that this board is read also by children and we want to keep it as famiiy-friendly as possible.

another_commander wrote:

I think some harsh language control might be required here. Although there is no insulting context in mossfoot;s earlier post, please keep in mind that this board is read also by children and we want to keep it as famiiy-friendly as possible.

Children?
Really?
Ok, roll call to all those, under the age of 18, reading these boards! Hands up and identify yourselves!

(I am going to hate to see what the censors do to my story. I haven't actually spelled anything out... yet, but with the mental pictures I'm painting, you don't gotta be 18 to understand! };])

another_commander wrote:

I think some harsh language control might be required here. Although there is no insulting context in mossfoot;s earlier post, please keep in mind that this board is read also by children and we want to keep it as famiiy-friendly as possible.

I edited the previous post. I assume it's only that one you're referring to?