[DiD][AP] "The Mechanic Privateer" or "Piracy for Love!"

[KingsMongoose]

>You Would Make A Great Pacifist R.L. Helbeck

Captain's Log, Day 1, Mechanic- erm, Now-Captain Ricker L. Helbeck recording
>>Hmm...That doesn't sound right. Stop recording.<<

Captain's Log, Day 1, Captain R. L. Helbeck.
>> I don't know why I am keeping this log, but I guess after a few years of working as a mechanic in the Argon military I've become used to recording and reporting everything I do. So I should probably start with how I came to be here, breaking several laws, the least of which is ship theft.

I didn't wake up yesterday and plan to steal a ship. No, I was fairly content being a promising ship mechanic yesterday morning. Last night was when everything changed. I was attending a Fighter Command mixer, having been ordered to report in full dress uniform by my Section Officer as part of the token display of appreciation by the officers for the enlisted folk who keep them flying. So I was there as ordered, drinking punch with one hand, constantly saluting all the officers with the other as the collar of my dress jacket slowly cut off the supply of blood to my brain when She walked in.

I could describe Her, but my words would be meaningless. I could give Her a name, but it does not do Her justice. Without doubt She was the most beautiful creature I had ever seen, and my heart stopped beating for a bit. That would have been the end of it, a beautiful memory to balance out the utter boringness of the night, except She started talking to me. And we talked, and talked, and I forgot I was just a mechanic and that She was way out of my league. I was absolutely smitten, and some way or another lost my head and let slip my dreams of being a great space fighter. She just laughed, amused, claiming that I was just too sweet and looked like I couldn't even swat a space fly.

Well, that was it. My dreams were so casually crushed by the most beautiful woman I had ever known. So I consoled myself with walking the hangar decks, drinking from a bottle of a special home brew I had made with a still in a forgotten work area. For some reason I stopped in front of a new Nova Prototype, and an idea bloomed in my booze soaked brain. This ship hadn't been claimed or assigned to anyone, was mostly armed and, most importantly, I had experience with this ship since I had been the lead mechanic and tester as it went through trials.

So a few minutes later I had forged some orders under my Section Officer's name assigning the ship to me, and attaching me to Fighter Command as a "privatized war asset".

So now here I am, floating in space without path or plan or combat piloting experience, but I will somehow prove Her wrong.

Captain out.<<


Welcome to my first ever Dead is Dead writing attempt. Up front and center is the fact that I have very, very, very little knowledge about the X-Universe and playing X3: Albion Prelude (or any X"..." game). If something is wrong, if you have suggestions, or if something does not make sense in my writing please let me know and I will try to adjust. As far as an update time frame, I will update a minimum of once a week even if it is just to note that I have to take a break for whatever world threatening reason. Last, but not least, I hope you enjoy reading about the adventures of Ricker L. Helbeck on his way to winning love by means of a capital class warship.

Start: Albion Prelude, Argon Peacekeeper

Mods: Full Bonus Pack

Rules:
*No Reloads: No reloads for anything that happens in game.
*Keeping Up Appearances: Must help with the war effort, and never be below Confirmed Friend rank with Argon.
*Not Officer Material: No combat fleets. Only the ship I am piloting will be doing the combat.
*Goal Oriented: Achieve Warlord combat rank, and an M2-Class warship!

[Zaitsev]

Promising start. I'll be watching this

[Triaxx2]

Indeed, very interesting and very much added to the DiD list. Congrats on being AP's first K.

[KingsMongoose]

Thanks a lot! I'll be getting some actual game time posted up soon, but it's been a fun challenge to try and write my notes into something that's not a simple blow by blow account.

[KingsMongoose]

>Into The Wild Empty Yonder

Captain's Log, 768-05-01 03:24, R.L. Helbeck
>>I wasn't sure I should continue this log. There's nothing like recording my every step in a nice, neat and identity verified manner for the prosecutors to use at my court martial. Of course, looking at my list of crimes I would probably be tried post-mortem. Let's see, I've committed: piracy, desertion, theft of military equipment, impersonating a superior officer, and interspace fraud. In a couple days, when I don't return for duty, they'll charge me with being away without leave, deserting my post (the specific crime this time), and probably half a dozen minor charges which pale in comparison to these. So what do I do, what do I do...

Well, here is what I have done. I have stolen a Nova Prototype space fighter under forged orders. The copy of the orders stored in the memory banks of this ship will flag as legitimate to official queries, and the original set will take time to work their way through the military computer system. At best guess I have two days until a copy of those orders hit the the desks of my Section Officer and his superiors. It's probably best if I don't make any transactions at Argon shipyards, equipment docks or military posts since they'll record my transactions and the ship I docked in, and suddenly owning a Nova Prototype might be a bit too anomolous for the system.

However anomolous, this Nova is a pretty sweet ride. It may not be the fastest fighter in space, but it is rather heavily armed and shielded. When I first pulled out of the hangar, still drunk from trying to cope with that horrible comment, I noticed that my mechanics hadn't finished the tunings like I asked. That's something I'll have to talk to them about when duty resumes- well, I guess I won't. So I went to the nearest equipment dock and got the first rude shock of the night: I wasn't able to requisition parts and fittings! Evidently being a "privatized war asset" meant that I had to personally fund everything for my ship. Hmm, it looks like the Argon military is outsourcing warfighting, otherwise known as hiring mercenaries. That explains a few things. However rude the shock, being drunk allowed me to quickly recover and develop a plan of action. If this ship was mine, then I should be able to sell any- and every- thing on this ship. So I did.

Well, not everything. I'm going to become a widely renowned space fighter, and to do this I need a serviceable warship. But those High Energy Plasma Throwers were sold right away. Too high a price when, joule for joule a Particle Accelerator Cannon did the job just fine. With the profits from selling those HEPTs (wow, how quickly one's thinking changes) I paid for maximized tunings on the Nova, a full 8 laser rack of PACs, an IRE for the turret (which I set for strictly missile defense since I am not good enough to shoot down incoming missiles I fear), a full suite of scanners and an upgrade for the combat programming. And some satellites. I have no idea why I bought those satellites. So I now have a fully armed and operational battleship (sounds like a holovid line) that's staggeringly armed, fully shielded, and tuned to within an inch of my life.

I left M148 then. No point in staying and risking being exposed, and besides, the fights were out there in the wild empty yonder. I had to stop for a summons from the "Privatized Assets" Commander, but it was just a rousing speech calling all to arms in defense of "our way of life" against the Terrans. I'd heard this speech so many times from other officers that I briefly wondered if it were scripted. Then I was past the gate, and into territory I had never seen. I mean, I've travelled the galaxy, but I've never flown through the galaxy. I was always ferried around on military transports. So my second big shock almost got me run over by a transport at the gate into Enduring Light: people and beings were broadcasting that they had jobs available!

I'm not an imbecile, I know that people hired out all sorts of jobs, but I never knew how it was done. I had always pictured meetings in dingy bars, or some sort of worker referral system. Wait, a worker referral system...that does exist, and I discovered it when I looked up my broadcasted information. Apparently when I went privatized, I was assigned some sort of ranking with the various factions in the galaxy. Noting that I wasn't blacklisted by anyone yet, I signed up for an escort job that took me farther from M148. I need combat experience, so I figured that joining a hauler's escort would allow me to fly with other combat pilots instead of having to jump into the deep end right away.

But I discovered flying the galaxy is rougher than I thought.

[Triaxx2]

Very cool. Should have kept at least two of those HEPT's though. Can't wait to see just how stupid a thing he's done.

[Nathancros]

Eya man, love the story keep it up aye, cant wait to see where u go wit this

[KingsMongoose]

Thanks for the support everyone. I'll be getting the next explosive installment of the story of R.L. Helbeck written and posted very soon.

@Triaxx: Just curious, but why keep some HEPTs? PACs, on paper at least, seem like the better deal.

[KingsMongoose]

>Into the Wild Empty Yonder, continued...

Lagging behind the hauler I was helping to escort, we slowly moved out of Nathan's Voyage for the gate into Black Hole Sun. As the gate came into range of my scanner, it became clear that it was a good decision for the hauler to invest in some escorts. Several pirates were loitering at the gate, in a Nova and Busters. I was glad I had replaced the standard Nova duplex scanner with a triplex, because I had plenty of time to get myself ready for the fight that was sure to ensue as we closed on the gate. Then several Yaki Fujins showed up at the edge of my scanners beyond the pirates, on a clear intercept course for my hauler.

Identifying the Yaki as the obvious attackers, I throttled up to full and set myself on an intercept course for them, my mouth dry and the control stick in a death grip. As I closed to range on the Fujins, I did one more check of all my systems. Eight PACs, selected and ready. Turret to missile defense. Full aim assist on. Set up to take the head-to-head pass on one side of their formation. Watch the aiming reticule, not the ship. When it changes, fire. Don't stop firing, plenty of time for weapons to recharge right...after...he's dead.

I focused past the dying scream from the Yaki that came over the comms, past the shaking in my hand on the throttle and past the weirdly fast beating of my heart. Two more were still out there, so I pulled my nose around, trying to check everything in my cockpit at once. Hull at full, shields at 60 percent (should have used more random rudder on the pass), the others are now between me and the hauler, other escorts haven't moved yet, hauler is fine, reticule changing, firing. And that quickly, a second Yaki was eliminated. The third curled up and around the hauler as it came out of it's strafing run headed straight for me, and was soon destroyed under my guns, just as the missile warning started it's horrifying beeping.

I quickly scanned my sensors and space outside my cockpit in a frantic search for the missile. I pulled my Nova around towards the pirates, thinking that surely it had to have been one of them who fired it when there was a flash of white and the beeping ceased. Quickly checking my ship's status, I realized that neither hull or shields had taken damage. I guess the IRE in it's turret actually shot it down, at about point blank. Looking back to the pirates, I realize their numbers have been cut from four to just two, thanks to escorts and drones from other goods haulers doing their jobs. In a couple seconds, it's down to just the pirate Nova, who breaks from the scrum towards me, shields failing. Bad decision on that pilot's part, as my finger, almost instinctually, tightens down on the firing stud and in a couple seconds there are no more red-flagged craft in the area.

As my heart rate settled down, I stayed close to the gate salvaging missiles while keeping an eye out for any other attackers, as the hauler laboriously made it through the gate. No one else showed up, even all the way to the station the hauler was headed for, where I got my first non-military paycheck ever. Kind of felt good, but that fight. Well, I guess I should just get used to them, if I'm ever going to prove that I can be a great space fighter. Just have to get used to it, and remember to turn off the open comm channels.

So I picked up another escort mission that would take me farther from M148, and continued heading away from all I had known.

Captain out.<<

For those interested:

1x Nova Prototype, fully tuned

120,400 CR

Missiles:
1x Beluga, Dragonfly, Hammerhead, Rapier, Poltergeist, Remote Guided Warhead, and Tempest
2x Wasps, Thunderbolts
3x Mosquitos
4x Firelances
5x Wildfires and Silkworms

Fighter Rank: Competent
Argon Rank: Hero of the Federation

[Triaxx2]

On paper, many things are better. But in practice, the far heavier firepower provided by the HEPT's means you can knock down the bigger fighters faster, which as you have noticed is supremely useful for defending targets.

[KingsMongoose]

>Lightbulbs Start Working

Captain's Log, 768-05-01 05:21, R.L. Helbeck

>>So now I find myself in the pirate sector of Mi Ton's Refuge, waiting for a Discover Raider I've retrieved for a client at the one station I've found here, and I think I finally have a plan.

This plan hinges on two simple facts: the Argon military never likes admitting foul ups and wasting resources, and the political situation is tense between the Paranid and Argon. To take advantage of the first fact, I have to become worth more to the military out on my own than than it would cost to bring me in for trial. The only way I can think to do this is to become active in the war, and volunteer (or better, get selected) for some interesting mission that's outside of the norm. These types of missions, I'm hoping, would be more in the realm of covert intelligence gathering or commando missions. The kind of missions that leave maybe only a single person in a key strategic position. Or at least leave me with knowledge the military won't want released at a trial. The biggest issue with this is time. At best I have two days from when I forged my orders to get into such a position. If I fail, then the second fact becomes very important. In my explorations, made rather slow and haphazard thanks to still being inebriated and then recovering from my first combat experiences, I found myself in Paranid space. Their stations were perfectly willing to buy all those missiles I salvaged, and they were offering me plenty of work. Should my two days run out without me being where I need to be for the Argon military, then I can try and run for Paranid space. The political issues with extraditing me for trial ought to give me time to become seen as an asset to the Paranid government, and if they're willing to hand me over then at least I should have enough time to run, again. So basically I just need to get my combat inexperienced self selected for some strategically and politically sensitive mission in the next 42 hours, or retreat to and hide out in Paranid space. I am so going to get killed.

Before I get around to setting all this in motion though, I should finish with this current mission. While this may be pirate space, I've encountered an Argon military fleet, a Boron military fleet, and a Paranid fleet roaming through here, in Mi Ton's Refuge, and Moo Kye's Revenge. I've seen a few pirates, but they didn't last long when they ran into one of the patrolling fleets. Oh, there's the Discoverer Raider now, auto-piloting through the southern gate from Cardinal's Domain. And there are some pirates closing in on the station that are bound to run into the ship I'm returning. Guess it's time to get back to work and clear the way for that Discoverer. A couple Falcons shouldn't be too hard to deal with.

Captain Out<<

1x Nova Prototype

240,300 CR

5x Wildfire Missile, 3x Thunderbolt, and 2x Wasp Missiles



>>DATE 768-05-04
>>TO: ARGON MIL-SPACE COMMAND
>>FR: ARGON MIL-CRIMES INVESTIGATION

>>Subject HELBECK, RICKER L., SHIP MECHANIC, last reported seen in MI TONS REFUGE, PIR-SEC, by patrolling Argon Fleet XXXX-XXX, under command of XXXXXXXXXXXXX.
>>Subject at time was in registered craft XXXXX-XXXX, Nova Prototype [modified]. Early reports suggest Subject attempted to engage criminal elements as per work contract.
>>Craft XXXXX-XXXXs Combat Data Recorder, aka Black Box, was recovered amid wreckage consistent with Nova Prototype, modified Falcon space fighters. Analysis underway.
>>Preliminary Conclusion: Subject killed while engaging superior enemy numbers in combat. No body recovered, but no signs of cockpit ejection. Complete analysis pending.

>>Signed,
>>XXXXXXXXXXX, XXXXXXXX
>>XXXXXX, AMCI

[Triaxx2]

Now that's an ambiguous ending if I ever saw one. Why do I suspect that there's a disco raider now under an assumed name?

[KingsMongoose]

Well...uhm...I would love for that to be the case. Turned out that asking for surrender was not the smoothest move I could have ever made. Especially since the pirates were packing PBGs, and I asked at point blank range. I wanted to leave it ambiguous because I really do like the story and character, I just now have to figure out if he gets....rescued. But by my official DiD rules this story is dead.

But strange things happen in the X-Universe.

[Triaxx2]

Very Sorry to hear that.

Oh, and I told you so about the HEPT's... Kidding of course. Here's hoping if he didn't get rescued, that you start another one soon. You write well.

[KingsMongoose]

Thanks Triaxx, I will definitely do another one. Right now I'm toying with the idea of a new game start using Ricker, because he just seems like too good a character to end so soon.

And yeah, you did warn me about those HEPTs

[Triaxx2]

Heh. Hey, now that I think of it, you don't necessarily have to be rescued. Nuklear-Slug's third DID started with him in a space suit in Terran Space, having just bailed from an exploding Osaka.

You're in commonwealth space, so you'll have a much easier time of it. Presuming you can get the pirates not to gank you. Mi-Ton's is pretty close to both Paranid, and Teladi space. I'd head south personally, since there are fewer mines that way.

Definitely an entertaining, if potentially entertainingly short story.

Or, perhaps he's picked up by a Pirate TP, where his engineering knowledge could allow him to short out the life support in the cockpit long enough to suffocate the pirate pilots and allow him to take control, and have a load of passengers to deliver somewhere.

Or, perhaps he wants to start a new life?

[KingsMongoose]

Oh yeah, there are quite a few ways he can come back into the game. Rescues, escapes, ransoms, and these can all lead to ship thefts, buying ships, co-opting contract ships for personal use (a la Nuklear-Slug). He could even join the pirates, or he could have made a serious impact on Her and She rescues him. Or he gets arrested (can't forget those Argon and Boron patrols).

Right now I'm running all of these possibilities and more through a highly technical and scientific computational engine called "what seems like it would be fun to do?" I hope when the results come in, everyone will have as much fun as I will with the further adventures of...uhm, someone

[KingsMongoose]

>Crossing the Styx

Log Date 768-05-02 00:04:12

>>They say when you are about to die you see the whole of your life flash before you. I couldn't see these images through all the flames around me. The heat rising, the screams of the ship ripping apart under the claws of a fiery beast and another scream, similar to the rending metal but chillingly different, ripped through my mind. I tried everything I could to escape those flames, even to the point of pounding on the walls of my tomb with the ejection handle that was in my hands. It made no difference though because Death had come to the void, like it has so many times before, uncaring and cloaked in flames.

I woke up, eventually, cocooned in an oven that used to be the cockpit of a prototype Nova space fighter. I had always thought of space as cold, but some voice I distantly remembered floated in my brain, talking to me about how heat transmits differently in space than in atmosphere. I listened to this voice, lecturing on the basics of thermodynamics and how they applied to using heat for work in space. I liked this voice, the comfort of it's surety and confidence as the person it belonged to explained a topic they were intimitely familiar with. As answers crawled into my head that person slowly explained them away, especially if I was alive. That person assured me that I was, because only the living worry about being alive. I told him of my memories of the inferno and the destruction, and he reminded that I was wearing a mechanics space suit, which differed greatly from a typical pilots suit in it's ability to withstand and deflect heat. We talked for a while, as I watched the heat radiate off my tomb. He left me though when my tomb moved, and I desperately wished he would return.

Especially when clawed hands reached out from the light to grab me and pull me out onto some hard surface. Three sets of eyes peered down at me through my suit's visor, and I could do no more than peer back as pain lanced through every part of my body. One of them gave some hand signal, at which the other two pried my helmet from my suit. I cringed from them to the best of my ability, but then fresh air hit my face and I could do nothing more but revel in the bliss of air that didn't smell of, well, I loved that fresh air. It's effects were immediate, and between it and the pain my senses came back to me and I recognized that the nightmares in front of me weren't demons, but were instead Teladi in robes over the more typical ship crew suits. The one I had labelled leader leaned over me, her reptilian features close to mine, and said, "Human, you are dead and the task of judging your continued course in existence lies within my claws. Welcome to the pirate ship Styx, now let us bargain."

So bargain we did. It quickly became obvious that this Teladi, captain of the Styx and leader of the crew of pirates who had destroyed my ship, cared not for my life beyond it's worth to her. I tried to bargain away the remains of the Nova, but she countered with the fact that they already belonged to her. I tried to bargain with my skills as a top mechanic, but she mutely pointed to her crew expertly dismantling the remains of my Nova and another ship. Her counter-offer was to sell me off as a slave, or perhaps to volunteer me for training as a marine. While marines are fearsome, renowned for the survivors being extremely capable fighters and specialised ship technicians (their specialty being infiltration without total destruction), I had no desire to test my mettle that way, especially injured as I was. But here I finally had an idea, and quickly bargained for all I was worth. Which turned out to be 100,000 credits. Then we bargained for my medical care, my transportation (which I thought was universally unfair until she explained the concept of cargo jettisoning), and on and on.

So now here I am, a much different man, in Argon Prime with no more than a Buster barely armed and shielded, a thousand credits, and a past that belongs to a different man.

Pilot out<<


Well folks, it looks like Ricker has found a way to not be quite so thoroughly dead. This is still a DiD, in Albion Prelude with nothing more than the Bonus Pack. Normally I would have given an equipment listing for him at this point, but he literally only has what is mentioned at the end of this installment. The rules for this game and story are listed below.

And finally, thank you all for your help and comments. I might have done it regardless, but knowing that someone is reading keeps me trying to make it the best story I can.


Rules:

Albion Prelude with Bonus Pack, Nostalgic Argon Start

Dead is Dead, at least for that game start or until there isn't any more promise in the story. But there won't be any reloads for anytihng that happens in game, so it might be interesting to see how many times Ricker "starts".

Presumed Dead: Ricker is Dead, at least assumed to be, and if he wants to stay that way officially he should avoid doing any business in Argon space until the certificate is signed (which is tentatively set for 768-05-05).

Goals are Goals: Ricker still has the same goals: to achieve Warlord ranking and an M2 warship, to prove to Her that he can be a great Space Fighter.

Still Not Officer Material: Near death doesn't make you a natural leader, just a lucky person.

New Identity: Being dead is simple, but living afterwards isn't. Ricker has to be recognized by one of the Commonwealth governments, meaning he has to start making some serious reputation or find himself under scrutiny and suspicion for having no past and a dead man's face.


As always, comments and suggestions are welcomed! Now let's have some fun

[KingsMongoose]

**Author Update**

This is not a dead story! This is just a story that has had to slow down as my own life has sped up. Never fear though, for Ricker has been busy and has created a massive backlog of personal notes and recordings that I am feverishly trying to transcribe, edit, and compile into the story of his adventures.

Thanks to everyone who has enjoyed the story thus far, and if the universe is willing there should be another installment written and posted in the next 24hours. Or else my Pirate Mechanic's Rep will take a hit

[KingsMongoose]

>Still Alive

Log 768-05-02 00:05

>>Okay, let's do a full check of where I stand with the Argon government right now. As far as the Argon military is concerned I'm a ship mechanic turned patriotic mercenary, legitimately released from duty by my command and issued a fully fitted prototype Nova fighter. The only problem with this is that in a about a day those orders are going to be flagged as being forged by yours truly. That shouldn't be a problem though, because I died just about 18 hours ago. Well, that's the story that will be told by the wreckage of the Nova and any witnesses in that pirate sector, to any curious Boron or Argon military fleet who do a sweep through there. So in a day I'll be sentenced to death, within a week I'll be declared dead, and the story of Ricker L. Helbeck will be tied up with no loose ends.

Except that I am still very much alive.

Fortunately I met a pirate who specialized in supplying identification for those in need and made good use of his services. The only catch is that I need to be active and establish a solid "data profile" for this new identity, so that anyone who notices that I look like a dead man will only consider it a weird coincidence if they investigate. Simply put, I need a reputation of some sort within the Commonwealth. So like my new personal history explains, I think I'll head for Teladi space to find my fortune and avoid any Imperial, I mean Argon, entanglements.

I regret that I didn't take the navigator of the Styx up on her offer to buy some star charts, but the truth of the matter is that after ransoming myself from the pirates, buying a new history and this hunk of tin Buster that I had to first repair before I even thought of flying, I was flat broke. At least I learned a few things from the crew of the Styx and was able to look at the charts to "preview the wares", so I know that Boron space is "north" of Argon prime and from there I head "east" until I hit Teladi space. Somewhere in there is Split space, I think, but I've never been one of those people with a lock-trap memory. It's why I got in the habit of recording everything I do.

I wish I had recorded Her face, or Her voice, or Her touch. Or Her contact address.

I pass out of Argon Prime with no issues, and after such a short time flying it I am convinced this Buster is nothing more than a death trap. It's not slow, but it's not fast enough to outrun any trouble I find. These twin IRE's aren't going to do more than annoy most trouble I do find anyways, and let's not talk about the shield that's only suitable for deflecting spit wads. If I had a choice I'd have almost any other ship, but I guess the point is that I didn't have a choice. Noticing those 4 pirate M3 fighters up there, I really wish I did. They're preoccupied with harassing traffic that is passing through the gate from Power Circle into Three Worlds thankfully (better anonymous beings than myself), so applying a little lateral thinking and a lot of lateral rudder I drift around their attention and through the gate to continue on my way.

After a short while I come into Kingdom's End, officially official Boron space, and set my sights on getting some work as I head towards Teladi space. In Rolk's Fate a station manager was nearly begging people to help defend his station against pirates. After checking what he was offering, I realized why no one had accepted. I doubt my Buster can fight anything, but I need work and the credits. After surveying the potential battlefield I came up with a strategy, and told the manager that I'd be his knight in shining, um, rust. With a wish for luck he signed the contract, and I started towards the station. So did a pirate Harrier. Comparing speeds I quickly realized I wasn't going to get to the harrier first, but I wasn't worried. Especially after the pair of police passing by on patrol vaporized that pirate with a few well placed shots. I collected my fee from the confused station manager, and continued on.

My time in the Styx taught me many things.

Eventually I came to Teladi space, specifically in Ceo's Buckzoid. I know everyone pronounces "Ceo" as a word, but from what I know of the Teladi I'm convinced that it's actually an acronym and everyone has gotten it wrong. That's what I think now, and it's what I thought that first visit. There I picked up a simple fetch job that consisted of me flying to Kingdom's End and returning a mysteriously abandoned Jaguar to the being claiming to be it's owner. Getting to Kingdom's End wasn't a problem, and setting the ship's autopilot wasn't a problem. The problem was that I had signed on to complete the job in a certain amount of time or the ship would be reported as being stolen by me, and there was no way the Jaguar was making it home in the time left. So I got the brilliant idea to commit some minor fraud and destroy the ship in the hopes that an insurance payout would sooth over any hurt feelings. I need to know what software systems they have in these ships, because that owner immediately knew I had trashed the ship and had a few choice threats for me.

This job highlighted the biggest problem I had, though, and I started thinking. My harshly used, expertly repaired Buster was too slow for the weapons it carried to be practical in combat. All the non-combat job offers came with time limits, and after this job I had a strong hunch my Buster would be too slow for those too. So I decided I need a new ship, and as luck would have it I'm here in Kingdom's End with it's Boron shipyard. After a long flight over a short distance my Buster was docked up, I was docked up in nothing more than my space suit, and the sales-Boron were quoting me a price. After making sure I would be allowed to buy another ship, I sold the Buster with much happiness. Then I parted with most of my new found happiness and bought an Octopus.

As a wise man once said though, the only true happiness is that which comes from inside you.

That ship is fast. Blistering, blindingly, heart thrilling fast. At least compared to the ships I've flown. If I'd known I'd have gotten that much for my Buster and bought this, I would have done so my first time through Kingdom's End. I buy and install what I consider the necessary functionality extensions over at the conveniently nearby equipment dock, and decide to upgrade the handling, engines and cargo space. The cargo space needed the upgrade for the simple fact that an Octopus has almost none, even fully upgraded. As for the engines, well, if going fast is good then going faster is better. After a some jobs collecting asteroid data and returning "lost" ships, I agreed with myself that faster is better. With that acknowledgment I finally christened the Octopus "Slick".

The only question left over from my death is whether I actually can be a space fighter, but I think that Duke's freighter I just spotted, here in Mines of Fortune, is about to help answer it.

Pilot Out<<

The Sum of All Parts, or, Progress to Stated Goals:

Opportunist / Nuisance

127,300 Cr

1x Octopus, fully tuned, "Slick"
--Essentials: 2x 1MJ Shields, 2x Impulse Ray Emitters "IRE", Boost Extension, Trade Extension, Duplex Scanner, Combat Fight Software Mk 1, SETA
--Non-Essential but Useful: Mineral Scanner, Cargo Life Support System (Ricker didn't explain in his notes why or where he picked this up)

Standings:
-Argon: Federation Member
-Boron: Queen's Guard (Ricker said most of his successful jobs were in Boron space thanks to Slick)
-Split: Shameless Creature
-Paranid: Unholy Nomad
-Teladi: Profit Opportunity
-Goner: Believer