Tales from the spacelanes...

[mossfoot]

I should by all rights be dead.

I used to be somebody. Born with a silver spoon in my mouth, I got into the Academy on the fast track, paid for the best instructors, and was able to ditch after graduation without mandatory service and go independant. I never really thought about it as unfair. Sure, I heard other spacers talk about me behind my back, but I figured they were just jealous. It wasn't my fault I got a Fleur De Lance for my 18th birthday, nor that my dad was a sector commander in GalCorp.

Those were the days.

Let's just skip to the part where my body was found pop-frozen in an asteroid field by missionaries in an intact vac suit, my Lance so much scrap on the large rock's surface. Slide on by the whole defrosting and rejuvenation process paid for by them no questions asked. Forget the fact that it was probably my own family that did it, and that I'd been declared legally dead, and if I was smart I'd keep it that way. Even ignore the fact that my one bit of luck was the missionaries offered me a beat up ship to get away on, one they'd planned on selling for scrap.

No, the reason I should all right be dead is that I ended up with an Adder, no ID, no money, no fuel.

And no joystick.

Like life hadn't pissed on me enough already, I was stuck with an Adder so old it still used key-based maneuvering thrusters. This was back when people still thought space travel was all flight paths and exact procedures. The sort of thing where you go down a checklist and quite frankly a computer was better off doing it all for you while you took a nap.

You know, before people wised up to just how many pirates and privateers were really out there, and dogfighting was considered a basic life skill.

Oh, and I was pretty sure word of my premature declaration of death had gotten out and people were on their way to correct the problem.

I suppose there was always the Black Monks to go to, but quite frankly that might just have been exchanging one death sentence for another. Besides, without any witch fuel, I was stuck on Lave. My options were limited pretty much to scrounging for empties. And by that I meant cleaning up the space lanes of asteroids. The space equivalent of looking for bottles in garbage cans for recycling. Doesn't pay much, but if I was lucky I could get a tank of gas and out of Lave before ninjas or some crap arrived.

I figured it at least would be a peaceful way to while away the time and blast out my frustrations on the galaxy. The hell have I done to deserve this? Just because I demanded the most expensive champagnes in my Lance's dispensary? I have guests to entertain! Or maybe all those traffic tickets and police infractions I kept having to have swept under the rug. Those parties I organized on various stations that tended to get out of control? Who doesn't like a party?

But come on, it's not like I killed anyone! Well, not directly. I mean, there was that one guy I nudged out of the way en route to the docking station who crashed against its hull, but I'm think he was a pirate. He looked like one, and I'm sure he gave me the stink-eye before his ship exploded.

All I'm saying is, this is totally unfair. I did not deserve this!

So I'm turning big rocks in to smaller rocks, wondering how that actually makes space any safer...doesn't it just means there a lot more rocks out there to smash against your hull, small enough that you can't see them? I guess the shields handle them at that point. Anyway, that's when some jackass decides to attack me.

I did mention I don't have a joystick control system, right? Hell I don't even have a missile. Not even those little party favors that are only good for exploding uselessly when the other guy hits their ECM.

The only thing there is for me to do is run. Pick up trash some other day. Hope the space ninjas don't find me.

Except, I'm in an Adder, and pretty much everything out there is faster than me, including this asshole. Several hits to my hull and I realize three things: 1) I'm not getting away. 2) he's the only pirate attacking me and 3) he's in a Sidewinder with a pulse laser.

As far as good news goes this is on par with "it's cancer, but...". However, I'm not one to look a gift horse in the mouth. I might have had all the breaks growing up, but that doesn't mean I wasn't a good pilot (not good enough to fend off six Viper Interceptors, but that's another story).

The next five minutes are spent not trying to throw up as I overcompensate with my roll and pitch, trying to get a bead on the little bugger. The pilot was green as a Thorian's butt crack. He'd dive at me headlong firing, then run away. No jinking, no special maneuvers, just in an out. Of course your standard Sidewinder has a head on profile about as thin as a sheet of paper, and my fine tune thrusters were as subtle as thrown brick.

Eventually I nailed the bastard, and when the fireball faded I saw the sweetest sight imaginable on my screen.

Bounty: 22cr.

So this piece of junk Adder with no hyperspace fuel, missiles, or anything else for that matter, still has its GalCorp bounty tracker intact? Who owned this ship before me? I'd made maybe 3 credits before that blasting asteroids for half an hour, not even enough to get a tank of fuel. Now I had enough for both fuel and some food to sell. Of course, best case scenario the profit from that food would only buy me another tank of gas, so for the time being you can expect me to keep on making the spaceways safe for all... of asteroids.

What? You thought I'd realize my true calling as a bounty hunter? What are you, high?

[Zieman]

Entertaining one!

[mossfoot]

Once I stripped away the facade of who I once was - the money, the ship, the heritage, the fawning social scene who clung to my every word; when all I was was cut away so close to the bone I could no longer hide behind family or fortune; when it came down to looking at myself in the mirror and judging myself as a man on my own terms, I was forced to come to a realization.

I am a coward.

No, not just a coward. I am the most craven little coward this side of the galaxy. Every stupid system is full of bloodthirsty pirates! They always left me alone because I had a Fleur Du Lance and that meant money, money for ECM hardened missiles and if you were really unlucky, a Q-bomb. You probably also had some cop buddies in Vipers just a radio call away, too.

But a rustbucket Adder with a pulse laser? You might as well put a sign on your thrusters saying "Free Kill".

Obviously you stick to the safer systems, but you know what? THERE'S NO SUCH THING! You read on the travel guide that the place is a stable democracy and you fly in and what do you know? It's coup day and everyone's invited. First come first serve for the wall to get shot against, no waiting.

By the time I finally managed to leave Lave I figured a nice safe corporate state would be the place to sell my discount rotting Spoo cargo and try and pass it off as haute cuisine to some sap. I had it all figured out. Jump in, move far far away from the main spacelane, and wait till I was in planet orbit before heading back for the station. Safe as safe can be.

You'd think that, wouldn't you?

Not one, but two pirates block my torus drive. At first I think they're just traders and fly away to get a clear path, only they stay on my tail. That leaves only two other possibilities.

"GO AWAY!" I yelled over the comms. "If you're missionaries, I've already found God. If you're pirates, I'm in no hurry to meet him!"

I'm not heading for the planet, the sun, or the witch point beacon so--oh look they're shooting at me what a surprise. Because that's the way my life goes these days. Last week I was in a zero-G bed with two models on my Lance, drinking globules of champagne off their bodies. Today I'm being mugged for 2 tons of crappy Spoo in an Adder that should have been recycled for the 20 credit deposit.

I think I mentioned before the impossibility of my outrunning anyone is my ship? The same is just as true when two are after you. I can't outrun them and I can't outshoot them, so what the hell is left. Outthink them? Hello? Space tactics at the Academy was better known as "nap time". I got all my tactics from the movie Top Lazer. Do a barrel roll, that's a good trick.

The only good news was that these pirates were worse shots than I was a pilot. They couldn't catch up too fast and kept taking turns making wild shots at me.

I was thousands of miles away from anywhere. No chance in hell of reaching the planet's space station, but I did see something else.

A Black Monk temple.

Coming from a rich family meant I know all about other rich people, and the Black Monks, for all their claims of solvency being a sin, are as rich as it gets. Seriously, does NO ONE wonder how they can afford such huge stations, deadly ships, and giving out loans that they enforce with deadly efficiency? What a scam.

But those big stations have really big guns, and they don't like it when people shoot at them... maybe these jokers can't hit the side of a barn, but maybe they can hit the broad side of a temple...

I never got a chance to try the scheme out, though. Just then, like an avenging angel, a GalCorp Viper started taking them on. Hallelujah! It drove one fighter off and started doing some serious damage to the Asp.

I had a clear shot to escape, make my way to the station and sell my goods. The police could take it from here. I didn't have to get involved.

But you know what? That asshole had pissed me off. I was minding my own business. It's not like I could be carrying much. What part of 2 ton cargo capacity don't you understand? You couldn't possibly expect to get a big payday from me. You're just squashing bugs. And quite frankly, I'm sick of being stepped on.

I spun around and joined the fight. Since the Viper was the real threat, the Asp knew it, so it ignored me - which was a mistake. I watched the Viper pound the crap out of the Asp until I saw his engines start to sputter, then finished him off.

"Thanks for you assistance" the Viper pilot said. "You head on somewhere safe, there might be more around."

"Will do, but I'll take that bounty first if you don't mind. I got the kill shot. Check your camera."

I might be a craven little coward, but I'm a GREEDY craven little coward.

[spud42]

well done mossfoot, very entertaining....

[Ranthe]

<applauds Mossfoot>

"If you're missionaries, I've already found God. If you're pirates, I'm in no hurry to meet him!"

Brilliant! Keep 'em coming!

[mossfoot]

God hates me. Either that of someone put a giant "kick me" sign on the back of my Adder.

I swear I'm sticking to safe systems, but someone seems to have forgotten to tell the pirates that. I'd made maybe two profitable runs. Thanks to picking up space trash and two lucky kills I'd gotten enough credits to start trading for more than fuel money. Right now my goal was to get as far away from Lave as possible, since that was my last known location in my old life.

Fortunately for me, my Adder still had its old pilot's idents intact, and that in itself seemed to be a pseudonym. Unless some poor sod actually had a mom who thought "Mossfoot" was a good name for a baby. Unfortunately that seems to be where my luck ended, because I can't go to a planet without being chased, fired upon, cargo searched, or otherwise harassed. Half the time I'm sure it was done for kicks.

And if being pursued for cheap thrills and cheaper credits wasn't bad enough, I had the bad luck to come across someone with money. How do I know that? Because they were flying a Fleur Du Lance.

My old class of ship.

Now picture this. A big expensive Lance comes barrelling down on you, shiny new beam laser spitting death. And right next to him, a tiny souped up Sidewinder providing backup. Seem like a familiar setup? It was like the rich kid at school who's a bully because he knows his parents can buy him out of any trouble he comes across, along with his toady sidekick, sucking up, praising him and kicking guys in the nuts when the big guy is done with them.

This could have been me two weeks ago.

I never had a toady, though I'd be lying if I didn't have some offers. But there was always something off putting about those enthusiastic hangers on that tell you how great you are. I'm fine with them at parties, when I can get them to fetch me drinks or take a grenade for me (check the reality show Jersey Outer Rim if you're don't know the term), but I don't want them with me from system to system.

I'd also never hunted down and shot a space hobo. To be honest before I got spaced I'd never gotten a live kill in my life. Just sims. Scared off a few pirates in real life, but that was all. You got enough bling, people leave you alone.

But my lack of curb stomping wasn't because of some deep rooted morality. I'd seen broken down heaps like the one I'm now flying clogging up the spacelanes, forcing me to take ten seconds out of my busy schedule to Torus drive around them. Sometimes I'd fire off a standard missile at them, watch them run, knowing they couldn't afford ECM, then detonate it before it got in kill range.

But that's all. Just putting them in their place. Remind them they need to take the long way around and leave the corridor open for those of us with things to do. Point is, I thought they were beneath me, and the only reason I didn't do worse than I did was because I was already using up a lot of favors in my day to day life and didn't need the extra headache. I don't think I ever saw them as people.

Payback's a bitch, and she's got my phone number.

The Lance wasn't going to be satisfied with a scare. It wanted me dead. A cheap way to up his combat rating no doubt. I'd met a few pilots like that, too. The sort who saw it as doing a public service. And I was being serviced.

Once again I was outmanned and outgunned. And no stations or Black Monks to try and run to. No police to call out to, either. But I had one trick left up my sleeve--fuel.

I had just barely enough to jump to another system. Less stable politically than this one, but then, beggars can't be choosers, nor can the imminently deceased.

Those were the longest 15 seconds of my life... and given how often I say things like that, you get the idea of how long that is starting to get. Finally I see the blue light and I'm free. I'm in the tunnel. Suck on that, frat boy! See you in... this system?

The first thing I see on my radar are two ships. I fly away as fast as I can. Maybe they're other traders. Maybe it's a coincidence. One red ping. Two red pings. Targeting computer confirms a Fleur Du Lance and a souped up Sidewinder.

You have GOT to be kidding me. How was I worth following into another system? How? This is bullshit!

I now have no jump fuel, I'm as far away from a station as I can be, and I have two fighters trying to kill me, preventing me from using the Torus drive.

Well, good life while it lasted. Wish it had ended back in the days when I had been doing models in the Lance instead of now, though. This is kind of anti-climactic.

Might as well go for broke. I have one lousy missile. A party favor that will get jammed as soon as I fire it.

Or will it?

The Fleur probably came standard with ECM, but what about the Sidewinder? Probably not. And would Mister Rich Bully do his buddy a solid and jam it for him? Depends. Maybe it would be a laugh to see his buddy scamper off.

Worth a shot.

It seemed I understand the mind of the spacefaring asshole better than I thought. The Sidewinder went scrambling away while my missile spun in wide circles around him. I won't deny that I got some satisfaction when I saw it hit. I saw the engines sputter but before I could get the kill it was pulling away out of my range. And the Lance was taking that opportunity to smack me upside the head, blowing out my shields. It wasn't a beam laser he was firing. It was a military grade laser!

I had to let the Sidewinder go and focus on the real threat. Besides, with luck it wouldn't be back and I just had Goliath here to worry about. But how? I had no missiles and just a lousy pulse laser against a top-of-the-line Fleur De Lance. What chance did I have?

That's when I realized he was lacking something important. A rear laser. This guy didn't bother with rear defences, because he never expected anyone to fight back.

I managed to get behind the Lance, and by god I stayed there, pounding away at its aft shields like a hooker working on commission. But the recharge on those ships is crazy fast. I was on him for ten minutes and still he showed no sign of weakening.

"Tired yet?" he said over the comm channel. It was the first time he'd bother speaking to me.

"Only of you still breathing, asswipe. I can keep this up all day."

"Funny, so can my shields."

"This how you get your kicks, stomping on guys you don't think can fight back."

"Ahhh, don't put yourself down. You're putting up a good fight. See? Oooh. Oooh. Those little blast sting, you know. Just don't scratch my paint job, or I'll really get mad."

That was it. This guy had a weakness. He was an asshole. And I know how assholes think.

"Screw this, I'm outta here!"

I flew off towards the nearest planet. I figured the Lance would let me get away a bit, then hit me with everything he had. As soon as he did, I jinked and spun and wove until the steady beam cut out to intermittent pulses. He'd bled it dry. Just like I'd hoped.

We returned to our dance with me behind the Lance pounding on its rear shields.

"Hey, why don't you run again? Maybe I'll let you get away this time. I think I'm late for poker night anyway."

"Naw. I'd rather just kill you. Something tells me I'm not your first hapless victim. What's your combat rating?"

"Dangerous. Just five away from Elite, baby!"

Listen to how this guy talks. I'm not a person. I'm just a notch to him. Hell, he sounds like I should be happy for him, like I'm helping him achieve his dreams.

"Oh, and by the way, buddy of mine wants to say hi."

Of all the bad luck. The Sidewinder was back, guns blazing. He'd waited for his shields to recharge and came back for his master. I just hoped his energy reserves weren't back to full.

I veered off from the Lance, hoping to make this quick. The toady in the Sidewinder danced with me a bit, but I had his number down. This guy wasn't a real pilot, he just did the in and out thing like most amateurs, then ran away like a bitch when things got hot. Only this time he wasn't able to get far enough away from me.

Off in the distance his tiny ship made a tiny fireball, and I got a tiny degree of pleasure for it. His last words had been, "Help me, boss!" I didn't hear his buddy say a word about it.

I let him drain his mill-spec laser at me again, thanking God that the Adder was surprisingly maneuverable, even if it was slow as a slug. Once again the pulses started when the beam overheated and I was back on the guy's tail.

"Dude, this is pointless. You're just delaying the inevitable. Just jump out in your vac suit. I'll scoop you up and sell ya somewhere nice. After I trash your ship of course."

You know what? I take it back. This could never have been me two weeks ago, or any other time for that matter. I'm a bit of an asshole, I know that. But this guy makes me look like a choir boy. And the thing about assholes is, they tend to be overconfident. In fact the asshole-to-overconfidence ratio tends to scale in direct proportion to one another. Which meant this guy had no idea that his engines were on fire.

Wonderful thing, military lasers. Problem is, they don't just overhead like a bitch, they drain your energy too. which meant that once I did punch through his shields he was in a lot more trouble than he realized.

"Smell anything baking, jackass?"

That seemed to get his attention. The Lance darted off and started making a bee line away from me. "Hey, all right, I'll go. Jeeze, just get lost, will ya?"

I let go of the fire button. The way he said it. As if I was the bad guy. As if all he'd been doing was flick my ear and I had no right to get so upset.

I held down the fire button again. "Yeah, I don't think so. I'll send your regrets to the poker group."

"Cut it out asshole!" His ship was jinking a bit, but I'd knocked out most of his maneuvering thrusters. I could see him get ready for a hyperspace jump.

"Why don't you just eject? I'll scoop you up and sell you somewhere nice. After I trash your ship of course."

"This isn't funny, man!" He sounded legitimately scared now. I wondered if he'd ever been close to death before? Probably not, if radios had smell-o-vision I'd be catching a wiff of piss by now. Which meant that his Dangerous rating had to be built upon a lot of ships like mine. Punks he didn't feel threatened by. Space hobos just trying to get by until they came across the rich kid with too much time on his hands and no morals.

"You want funny? Get reincarnated as a clown."



Bounty: 101 credits

[mossfoot]

BTW, I assume the stories here are essentially fictionalizing actual in-game events that occur. At least, that's how I'm writing it. I started a hardcore game and decided to create a narrative around the more interesting events. Also, I apologize for any grammatical mistakes, shifting tense use, and so on. These are being done on the fly after all.

[Diziet Sma]

<applauds Mossfoot>

"If you're missionaries, I've already found God. If you're pirates, I'm in no hurry to meet him!"

Brilliant! Keep 'em coming!

This little reference made me chuckle, too..

Do a barrel roll, that's a good trick.

[Diziet Sma]

BTW, I assume the stories here are essentially fictionalizing actual in-game events that occur.

Indeed they are.. often they don't even need any embellishment.. just a little fleshing out.. the AI can produce some surprisingly sophisticated behaviour at times..

For instance, here's one of my own adventures. Every detail recorded just the way it actually went down.. (incidentally, this event is the reason that even now, I never lock my weapons down before docking)
https://bb.oolite.space/viewtopic.php?p=184111#p184111

At least, that's how I'm writing it. I started a hardcore game and decided to create a narrative around the more interesting events. Also, I apologize for any grammatical mistakes, shifting tense use, and so on. These are being done on the fly after all.

Heck.. no need to apologise.. You have a great story-telling style. I'm enjoying these tremendously, and hope you collect them into a novella at some point.

(One little detail though.. it's actually "Fer-de-Lance".

[Cody]

.. often they don't even need any embellishment.. just a little fleshing out.. the AI can produce some surprisingly sophisticated behaviour at times..

Ain't that the truth!

[SteveKing]

Mossfoot, those little tales gave me a couple of lol moments. I especially like the last reposte -

"Why don't you just eject? I'll scoop you up and sell you somewhere nice. After I trash your ship of course."

Karma can be sweet sometimes, but payback almost always is!

Here's to you for taking on a hardcore game - stay sharp and bring us some more entertaining tales

[mossfoot]

I'm just lucky I'm not so much space dust. Had the Lance had any missiles, for example, I probably would have been toast. It just takes facing the wrong ship at the wrong time to pretty much end your game.

[mossfoot]

Deleted due to duplicate.

[mossfoot]

"It's called a Fer De Lance, you know."

"What was I calling it?"

"Fleur."

I looked at Diziet uncertainly. "You sure about that?"

"Pretty sure. It's right on the manual. Also anywhere you read about it in the news, movies, the guys who designed it. You know, everywhere."

Much to my initial concern, I'd stumbled across an old flight buddy of mine. Diziet and I were in the Academy together. I cribbed off his notes if I happened to fall asleep during class, which was a lot.

Hey, it's not my fault. They're the ones who scheduled Tactics class at ten in the morning. I mean, who's awake by then? Anyway, Diziet was an okay guy, but when I saw him now I was afraid he might only see credit signs over my head. Turns out, he didn't even know about the attempt on my life. Seems the whole thing is being kept hush hush. Just one more problem for dad to sweep under the rug, I guess.

It also seemed that Diziet didn't much care if there was a bounty on me. We shared a brew and I told him how my life had gone to hell.

"And how long was I calling it a Fleur?"

"When did you get your old ship?"

"When I was eighteen."

"Yeah, since then."

"So why the hell didn't anyone tell me?!"

"You kidding me? Nobody ever wanted to talk back to the Golden Child. You never took criticism well."

"Shut the hell up."

"You telling me you didn't have Cody busted for transporting pornography--that you planted by the way--when he proved you were wrong about witchspace time dilation theory?"

"It wasn't about that."

"Oh, what was it then?"

"About who could drink more Witchspace Pale Ale in 2 minutes. You must have heard the story thirdhand or something."

"My mistake. That's a far more mature reason, and yet it fits in better with what I know of you."

"So why are you correcting me now?"

Diziet snorted. "You aren't exactly in a position to do jack against anyone, are you? How's it feel to be one of the unwashed masses?"

"Terrible."

Diziet downed the last of his glass. "Good."

"Oh, I guess you think I had this coming? That I deserved it?"

"Nobody deserves to be taken down by their own family like that. That's why I'm not going to rat you out. You're a spoiled asshat of the first water, but that's not a crime."

"You sure? From where I'm standing now, I can see why someone would have wanted the old me put down."

"Really? Hmmmm. Maybe there's hope for you yet."

Thanks to laughing boy's bounty and a favor from Diziet with the local mechanic, I was not only able to expand my cargo bay to carry five glorious tons of Pan Galactic Thargoid Blaster (275 proof, it actually bends the laws of physics to make it possible), but also able to get something vital installed. I gazed upon its technological glory for many long minutes

"It's.. it's beautiful." I said at last.

Diziet frowned. "It's just a joystick. Honestly, I don't know why this heap didn't get an upgrade at some point. Hell, you might have been able to sell it for more as an antique if you had kept it as it was."

"I doubt that. I checked the wiring. There isn't a single original part left in this thing aside from that old key based control panel. But this control system? This just doubled my expected lifespan. So, I'm probably good till Thursday."

"Hey, look, in all seriousness, why don't you sell this heap on some nice high tech world and lay low? Even at 40K, that's enough money to keep you comfortable for years till this all blows over."

It's not like I hadn't thought about it. Like from day one. But there was one problem with the plan.

"I know myself too well. I'd spend that on hookers and booze and eventually get my face plastered in the news again and then it wouldn't take long for dad to send the space ninjas after me. I'm better off if I keep moving."

"Space ninjas?"

"I never saw them coming and they shot my Flure... Fer De Lance to pieces before I could get a shot off. I'm pretty sure they used laser shurikens on me."

"Riiiight. Well good luck out there... Mossfoot is it now?"

"Might as well go with the ident that came with the ship. It's worked so far. Thanks for everything, including the new ship ID code."

"You're not going to give it a catchy name? Just a redux serial number?"

"Would you name a ship held together with bailing wire? The new ID is fine. Thanks again."

"Your money's as good as anyone else's. Take care out there."

Now that I've got some working capital, I've learned that some of the best places to trade your wares is convenience stores. Most of the stuff there is overpriced like crazy, which makes it great to sell to. But the few things they have on sale? It's totally worth picking up precious metals there, maybe even some alien tech to pawn off on some backwood yokel planet. In short, I'm making a killing, and it won't be long before my ship is held together by super strength bailing wire.

"Incoming Adder, 000DESTRUCT0, you are cleared for landing. Check thrusters and match station rotation."

"Roger that, Station."

"Request confirmation on your cargo?"

"Four tons of Pan Galactic Thargoid Blaster."

"Confirm again, please? Your ship is registered as having a capacity of five tons, not four."

"Had a hyperspace jump malfunction that shot one of my crates into the void."

"Roger that. Safe docking."

"(hic!)"

[mossfoot]

I got a system, and it's such a scam I can't believe I haven't been arrested yet.

First, at an agricultural world, I fill up with liquor... in the cargo holds, I mean. Then I take it to a tech world with a floating convenience store, one of those places that the big space truckers pass by. They always need booze and are willing to pay extra for it (they just pass the extra cost on to their customers, so what the hell). So you sell whatever you have left in the hold and then pick up whatever they have on sale, usually precious metals they got from melting down old electronics as people trade in their latest dodads.

Next, fly in system, but you don't head to the main station, oh no. First you stop by the casino. Lots of people down on their luck there, trading in their wives furs for just one more kick at the cups, or selling their jewelry. But the casinos don't need that kind of bling. They deal in cold hard credits, and so they're willing to set the stuff for a song to take it all off their station.

Then you go to the planetary station, sell the metals for a profit, buy some computers, fly back to the agricultural world.

Lather, rinse, repeat. Within a few runs you're swimming in credits.

BWAHAHAHAHA!!!! Oh my God... oh... oh I'm sorry. Swimming in credits. I kill me. I mean, I'm talking about thousands here after a few circuits. Thousands! Wooo!

You do remember my background, right? Thousands of credits? I used to drink imported water more expensive than that. Well, actually I didn't, I never touch the stuff. But I could have. Now here I am thrilled when a cargo run nets me a few hundred credits. I sometimes lost more than that in trade deals because I couldn't be arsed to make an extra jump for a better price.

But now? Oh, I'm thrilled by a few hundred credits, make no mistake. One of my earliest purchases was a fuel injection drive. You know what's slower than a beaten up first generation Adder? Not much! So yeah, it cuts down on the pain-in-the-ass factor when ships mass lock you, but more importantly it lets you get away from those same pains-in-the-asses when they start firing on you. HA! Suck on my exhaust fumes, losers. Unless you have your own fuel injection system in which case just screw off, okay? Pick on someone your own size.

But the fuel injection also means I make more trades faster. Bam bam bam. Come on. Time is money. Chop chop. I never really used mine much back in my Lance. I always had something (or someone) to keep myself entertained while the docking computers took over. Docking computers. I miss those. Thank God I'm actually a good pilot. It means that instead of splurging on those I can instead say, "No, I think I'd rather have an iron ass, thank you very much. And add in some better targeting computers while you're at it. I'd like to know if that jerk in the space lane is someone I want to run away from or not. Oh, and an escape capsule too. Why yes, I would like the optional auto-eject system. Do I look like I can be bothered about keeping an eye on my energy levels when I'm fighting for my life? Insurance comes standard? Greeeaaaaat. If I lose my crap-ass Adder I can get myself an equally crappy Adder to replace it. Hey, is that a tea dispenser?"

Yes. I'm considering a tea dispenser. After recent events I realize being boozed out of my mind is not the best way to defend oneself against pirates... or dock with a station without a docking computer... or talking with customs officials... or talking to girls at a club... or talking with random people on the street....

I think I may have a problem.