Endgame (X3AP/Litcube's Universe DiD)

[Zaitsev]

Hello, fans. I'm back again!

If this doesn't work I'm gonna find Weasel and ask him how much he wants for that cloning tech of his So far it's looking good, though.

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Prologue – One last job

"That's the last of them, boss."

I watched the last fighter explode in a fireball as its reactor went critical.

"Good," the voice in my ear said. "We've almost gotten through the firewalls. Be ready."

"Copy that."

A few moments later the order came.

"Macha to all ships. We're done here, let's get the hell out. I want everyone on board within the next minute, or I'll leave your sorry asses out here."

We all fell back, and within the aforementioned minute we were all aboard. Then the jump drive spooled up, and ten seconds later we were gone.

"You did good out there, Lexa." the captain said as I set foot on the hangar deck.

"Just doing my job, boss."

"Not anymore, you're not. And now that it's all over you can call me Amira."

I just looked at her an swallowed. Looked around at the ship I had learned to think of as 'home' and people I had come to regard as friends.

"Now, don't get all mushy on me. You can always come visit, you know."

I snorted a laugh. The Macha might be big, but she was damn hard to find. Unless you knew where to look, of course.

The reason for all this? The captain had saved my life a few years back, and I had agreed to join her crew to 'pay my debt' as she had put it. Now I had earned my freedom, but to be honest I had no idea what to do with it.

"Any particular place you want us to drop you off?" she asked.

"Uhm … Somewhere in the Argon sectors would be fine, I guess." It was the closest thing to home out there, as I didn't really feel like going back to the Sol system.

A few hours later I had packed my stuff and said my goodbyes. It felt odd, nice and incredibly sad at the same time, and I struggled to hold my tears back as I walked across the hangar deck, probably for the last time. I stopped for an extra chat with Pok, who had been responsible for taking care of my fighter, and who had kept me afloat when life hit me in the face like a runaway Mammoth. Then it was time …

I climbed aboard the Blackheart, the Advanced Mamba that had carried me through so many battles. Her shell might have its fair share of scars, but underneath she was in perfect shape. Pok had seen to that. I sat down behind the controls, strapped myself in and started the pre-flight checklist. Main switch on. Power online. Navcom okay. Ship AI okay. Main thruster online. Maneuvering thrusters all functional. Weapons offline and secured.

"All right, we're exiting the wormhole in ten seconds. We're heading for Argon Prime, and we don't wanna stick around for too long, so be ready."

"Roger that, boss."

She chuckled.

"I ain't your boss anymore, kid. As of now you're your own boss."

"Old habids die hard … Boss."

She chuckled again.

"You're hopeless. Now get the frak off my ship."

"Will do."

I gave the crew the thumbs up, and the Macha's catapult hurled me into space.

"Take care out there, kid." Amira said over the radio. "Otherwise I'll come kick your ass."

"Don't worry. You've trained a good pilot."

"I know. Still, be careful."

"Will do."

I heard someone say something in the background.

"Sounds like the welcoming committee is here. Gotta go."

"Roger that."

"Oh, and one last thing. The crew and I wanted to give you a little parting gift. Two, actually. See you around."

Two Kestrels launched and formed up on my tail. They were set up as umanned scouts, loaded with sensors and software to allow remote exploration. These guys would come in real handy.

"Tha – Oh …"

I wanted to thank her, but the Macha was already gone. I took a breath and looked down at the planet beneath me.

Here's to a new adventure …

[Zaitsev]

Mods, rules and stuff.

Mod:

Litcube's Universe. That's it. As the mod is still evolving I'll patch it and keep it up to date, but since Litcube has included an awesome feature that make sure you don't lose anything when you patch the mod it shouldn't be a problem.

Also, it's an awesome mod. You should try it.

Rules:

Conditional DiD - Excludes bugs and computer f#%kups.

Ships for personal use can only be repaired halfway using the repair laser, i.e. if the hull integrity is below 50% it can be repaired up to 50% and if it's over it can be repaired up to 100%. The other half counts as structural integrity damage, and can only be repaired at a shipyard or at the HQ (when I get one). Anything that is to be sold can be repaired up to 100% regardless of prior condition. It's going to end up as rivets anyway.

Lexa can only fix fighters, TS, TM, TP and M6-class ships with the repair laser. Anything else has to be repaired at a shipyard or at the HQ.

Goals:

The game is over when I either die, or I have defeated both the OCV and Phanon Corp., which are the two main enemies in LU. That's right, folks. No plots here, just one enemy that will hunt you if you let it grow too strong, and another one that will happily take over the entire universe if left unchecked for long enough.

Start:

For those interested I started with the Damyath Advanced, which gives you an Advanced Mamba M3, six Kestrel explorers and some credits. I sold all but two of the Kestrels to set things up.

Assets:

M3 Advanced Mamba - "Blackheart"

2x M5 Kestrel - Unnamed

3 894 214 credits

[kaistern]

Woot! Here we go again!

I am officially opening the books and taking bets on how many Chapters until we see a fireball!

Chapter #:___He does not die:He Dies
Chapter 1:_______________1:2
Chapter 2:_______________1:4
Chapter 3:_______________1:4
Chapter 4:_______________1:4
Chapter 5:_______________1:2

______________________Yes:No
Lives past Chapter 5_______1:2
Past Chapter 10___________1:5
Past Chapter 20___________1:10
Finishes main objectives____1:10,000
Defeats Phanon___________1:1,000
Defeats OCV_____________1:5,000

All bets are made in game currency and you are responsible for add/removing the credits from your own account via the honor system.

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Ok all joking aside I always enjoy reading your very good short stories and I would love to see a longer one so.... I will open the betting up with a bet of 1 million credits that you finish the main objectives! (with a 10 billion pay out if I am right.... )

EDIT:I hate the way that this forum ignores multi spaces like I use for post formatiing 2:some bets were backwards

[Zaitsev]

Well, I guess my stories have gotten progressively shorter over the years, due to my tendency to "do a Frankie" and dive head first into battle without thinking about whether or not I can actually take on eight Xenon LX in a Mamba. Or try to ram a Q. Or get whacked by a P. Or get a Hammerhead up my tailpipe as I exit a gate ... Luckily the last one isn't that much of a problem in LU since pretty much every M6 has enough shielding to survive a Hammerhead blast ...

But enough rambling, let's whip out a new chapter instead.

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Chapter 1 - Like wheat before the scythe

The local police force had understandably been a little skeptical to a fighter pilot who had been dropped off by an unmarked dreadnought, but since I was technically still a terran citizen and hadn't done anything wrong they couldn't do anything and had to let me go.

Now, captain Amira had been nice enough to let me in on the crew's cut for the last operation, so I had a hair under three point nine million to my name. That might come in handy, but since I'd had no official contact with the Argon I was barely allowed to buy breakfast. So I went out looking for ways to rectify that, and since I'm fairly good at flying and shooting stuff I ended up in a military office where this bald, slightly chubby man was looking me up and down as if I was some piece of meat.

"So …" The man behind the desk gave me a condescending look. "Alexandra Ryan, is it? You want to be a bounty hunter, is that correct?"

"Yes, sir."

"Any prior experience?"

"No, sir." None that I can tell you about, that is.

"I see. We're stretched pretty thin, so we could always use some extra cannon fodder." The corner of his mouth twitched, as if he was holding back a smile. He typed something on his keyboard, then he looked back up at me.

"All right, this is how it works," he said. "I've registered you as a private security contractor, and you got yourself a trial license. That means you show up on the list of people to call when someone's in a pinch, and you can contact any employers who offers missions we think you can manage. More challenging missions will become available as your combat rank and race rep rises, and the reward will go up accordingly. If you make the rep requirement, come see me and we'll talk about an official license.

"Yes, sir. Thank you, sir."

"Don't thank me yet. Now get out of here, I got work to do."

He made the last sentence sound like he had more important things than chatting to an obvious rookie. He might be in for a surprise.

"Will do, sir." I turned and left his office, heading back to the Blackheart.

I barely had time to strap myself in before the comlink beeped, and not one, but two messages popped up.

"Hm …" I read the first one torn between skepticism and laughter. So, they had detected unusual activity in the Omega sector, at the end of the Omicron Channel, and they decided to send in the frickin' Boron to do recon. On on hand the Boron are diehard pacifists and you don't have the risk of an overly eager captain pulling the trigger at the drop of a hat, but on the other hand they were kind of useless in combat and if push came to shove they'd probably all end up as deep fried squid.

The second message was from some corporation called 'TandiTech', and it was so pompous and over-the-top friendly it made my skin crawl. More or less subtle hints about … consequences if I didn't stay clear of their ships and factories didn't help either.

"Thanks for the warning, Mr Kormal," I said to the screen. "But I don't react well to veiled threats, and if you cross my path you might find that out for yourself."

Right now I had more pressing matters to attend to, so I ordered one of my Kestrels to fly off and do its thing. Then it was time to go look for some work.

I chose a private security mission, and got a chubby man who was sweating bullets on the horn. He rambled on about how some shady people had threatened to destroy the station he was on, but seeing as we were in Argon Prime and surrounded by enough military hardware to level an entire planet I didn't really see that happening. It also turned out that he was full of shit, as the big threat he had told me about consisted of a single Xenon N. It was probably going to die from electromigration before it could get through the station's shields, but I went after it anyway.

"Welp," I told him as my Particle Accelerator Cannons had turned the thing to dust. "Looks like your hide is safe for now, but be careful in the future." He didn't react too well to my sense of humor, but he did pay me and I even got a rep increase from it.

Since Argon Prime was now dry for the moment, I decided to head south to look for more work. As in things I could actually do, which for the time being was limited to shooting stuff. There were a couple of juicy station building missions there, but since I neither had the rep nor the money for a TL I couldn't be arsed to do it. I knew shipyards usually had a TL hanging around, but they were often busy and the folks who ran them had a tendency to be kind of cranky, so I wanted to get my own before I got into the building business.

Anyway, here's Home of Light. It looked kind of like any old sector and not particularly bright, but what the heck. Yeah, I have a lousy sense of humor. Shoot me.

What was more important was that they had a patrol mission for me, which would bolster my bank account by a whopping fourteen thousand and sixty five credits. I think it's safe to say I did it for the rep, so I might be able to buy breakfast and maybe some things that go boom.

Now, to make a long and boring night short, I spent the next three hours doing every combat mission I could get my hands on. I royally screwed up a patrol into Paranid space, as I entered Paranid Prime, got a message and thought my patrol was over. Nah, it was just a Buster Sentinel I had bought and given the once-over with the repair laser telling me it had reached the shipyard I had sent it to, but I wandered off anyway. On the bright side I slaughtered a few pirates and some Xenon while I was mucking about, so the 'Nids were pretty happy with my work after all.

Screwing up like that told me it might be time to hit the sack, so I rounded up all the ships I had claimed, which amounted to two Mercury Tanker Xls and a Kestrel, and headed back to Argon space for some shut-eye.

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So, at least I survived the first chapter. Too bad there weren't any bets against that

[kaistern]

I really was hoping more people would get on the betting train.

[Triaxx2]

I totally would have pegged not surviving chapter 1, but I had a power outage.

[Zaitsev]

Oh, ye of little faith ...

I've survived at least one more chapter!

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Chapter 2 - The scythe and the rock

Yawn.

It's been a while since I slept a good seven and a half hours. Maybe I was more tired than I thought?

And what's this? A message?

Yeah, ouch. As I suspected, the OCV, as the Omicron Channel military command had dubbed the ships cropping up in Omega, were hostile, and they had taken Tokyo Gamma while I was asleep. That could very well prove to be troublesome.

Anyway, first order of the day was to go shopping. The patrols and private security missions they were tossing my way had started to include heavy fighters, like Xenon Ls and Lxs, which meant trouble as my PACs couldn't get through their shields and hull before the rest of the pack was all over my ass. The M3s had also started carrying missiles, which was also a problem since the ol' lady didn't have a rear turret. Hm …

"What can I do ya for?" the man behind the desk asked. He smirked, and I got a feeling I wasn't the first woman he had used that line on.

"Oh, 'bout ten million," I quipped, and got the pleasure of seeing his eyes widen before he burst into laughter.

"Good one," he said as he tried to keep himself upright. Hey, I'd had to deal with Pok for five years. You either learn to shoot back, or you perish.

"But seriously," he said. "What do you need?"

"Something with a little more bite than PACs," I said. "Things are getting kinda hairy, and … y'know."

"You want to be able to kill whatever's in front of you before whatever's behind you eats through your shields, eh?"

"Yep. Also, do you have anything to cover my ass from missiles?"

"I do, actually. We got these new toys called 'chaff'. It's a version of the old Mosquito missile, re-purposed as anti-missile munition. They'll use the ship's sensor suite to detect incoming missiles, and the chaff will engage any missile aimed at you."

"Any downsides?"

"You have to fire them manually. There are automatic solutions out there, but they tend to be less accurate. Fired manually it has so far had a one hundred percent success rate. There's also the issue about the price …"

"How much?"

"Thirty two thousand a pop."

"I'd say it's worth it, especially since the alternative right now is to get my butt vaporized by Banshees."

"True. Sooo … how many?"

"I'll take twenty. And those plasma throwers will probably look real nice on my Mamba."

"That they will. A bit thirsty if you ask me, but if you use them right they'll whack any fighters you might go up against."

"I know, but since you ain't got anything in between that the ol' lady can use …"

He nodded, and half an hour later I was the proud owner of some shiny new high energy plasma throwers, in addition to twenty chaff and a jump drive I had picked up for the heck of it. All three would come in handy later …

The first thing I spotted when I left the station docks wasn't a chance to test those shiny new guns, but rather a chance to test my repair laser. Someone was selling a Mercury Super Freighter XL for cheap-ish, so I picked it up, gave it the once-over and sent it to the shipyard to be turned into rivets. I could probably make a good million off of it, so it would be well worth the time.

Heading into President's End I spotted a new market – taxi missions. I couldn't do it right now, as my life support system could only keep me alive, but I made a note to get an upgrade so I could carry passengers. It could be interesting though, because if I remembered correctly only the Terrans and pirate bases sold those upgrades, and since I had spent the night blasting a dozen or so pirates into oblivion I sort of doubted they would give me anything other than the business end of a disintegrator rifle.

After pondering about switching from bounty hunter to taxi driver for a minute I decided to head into Elena's Fortune. If memory served it was wedged between two pirate sectors, so I guessed the chances for some action were pretty high.

Lo and behold. Action. Not necessarily of the kind I was thinking about, but an abandoned Sabre would net me a good price at the shipyard in Cloudbase South East. I also got some action of the kind I was looking for, in the form of a Xenon patrol, but since they all decided to pick a fight with one of the local orbital weapon platforms that went down the drain. Stupid chips …

Now, about that Sabre ...

The Sabre looked mighty fine with my name on it, even if I was going to turn it into rivets. I followed it into President's End, and ended up taking a Xenon Patrol to Ore Belt. I plowed through my fair share of Xenon as I made my way there, and my new, shiny guns were doing their job. The mechanic was right, though. They were a bit thirsty, but nothing a quick jump and a few minutes to recharge couldn't fix.

Then things went downhill…

I was on a pirate patrol in Ore Belt, and hot on the heels of this Blastclaw Prototype when I got a bit too eager. Wanting the bounty on his head I hammered away at his ship without noticing where he was heading, and just as I cracked his shields the local weapons platform decided it wanted in on the fun. I dodged the first two broadsides, but then …

Lining up for the killing shot I didn't pay attention, and the bastard did a U-turn at the wrong moment. Turning and using my port maneuvering thrusters to keep myself out of his line of fire, I didn't notice the PPC bolts heading my way until it was too late …

"Oh, bollocks ..."

[kaistern]

NOOOOO!!!!!! Don't tell me I am already out a Million credits!!!!


I really had hope this time.

[Triaxx2]

At least it wasn't the Xenon this time.

[Zaitsev]

Nope, Chuck Tes - Erh, I mean cliffhanger. I ain't dead yet.

Also, nice to know that I have at least two readers

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Chapter 3 - Close call

"Ow, ow, ow!"

I hit the maneuvering thrusters to stop the tailspin and tried to get a bearing on that damn Blastclaw at the same time, in case it tried to take advantage and roast my ass. A couple of panels had blown up practically in my face, and the only thing that had saved my hide was the blast shield on my helmet. Speaking of which …

"Warning," the computer blared. "Hull breach. Atmospheric pressure at fifty four percent and dropping. Hull integrity at forty two percent. Shields at two percent and rising."

I took a look outside the cockpit. The entire left side of the Blackheart was scorched by PPC fire, and from the looks of it I was leaking plasma and cooling fluid all over the place. Thank Gunne the ship's main systems were buried behind thick layers of ablative armor, to keep things running in case of major hull damage. You could basically shoot a ship to pieces, and it would still work as long as the reactor and its controls were intact.

"Shields at twenty percent," the computer informed me. "Atmospheric loss contained. Structural integrity fields activated." Another neat thing that would keep a ship flying even with its proverbial guts hanging out, they were basically internal shields that kept important stuff from falling apart in case of an emergency. They ran on their own power supply in case of reactor failure, though, so I had to get the ol' lady fixed before they ran dry and caused her to fall apart on me. Since the OWP had apparently blown the Blastclaw Prototype to bits I jumped to Cloudbase South East and limped over to the local shipyard. Phew, that was a close one.

"Ye sure banged this one up good," the mechanic said as he looked at my ship.

"Thanks, I know." I replied, imagining my credits growing wings and flying away.

"Wha' did ye run into, Xenon?"

"No, the Plutarch OWP in Ore Belt," I said. "And my own stupidity," I mumbled.

"Welp, we'll fix it for ye in no time. Just sit back 'n watch tha fun."

I did watch as the shipyard's nano-weavers stripped off the damaged parts and started reconstructing the hull. Tubes and armor plating materialized seemingly out of thin air as nanites flowed into place and fused to form the new parts, and it was quite a sight to behold. A few minutes later the Blackheart was as good as new, and I was about one point seven million poorer for it. That meant I had to get back in the fray and make up for the loss. Guess that's what you get for not watching where you're flying.

Hitting the ground running I took on a patrol from Cloudbase South East to Cloudbase South West, and very carefully edged my way around the OWP in Ore Belt. I also managed to claim a Nova Raider, but the Xenon blew it to bits before I could get it out. Thanks a lot, toasters.

Speaking of OWPs ...

The one in Cloudbase South West ended up saving my tail, as the Xenon packs were starting to become unmanageable. If this keeps up I was going to need something with a bit more punch to manage things. I had seen the outside through holes in my hull once today, and I didn't care to repeat that.

Something like that Eclipse that was for sale, for instance? Or maybe not. I checked the stats, and since it could be overtaken even by some frigates I decided it wasn't worth it. It was dirt cheap though, and would probably sell for a pretty penny, so I picked it up and sent it to Ore Belt to keep it safe from the Xenon.

After cleaning up Cloudbase South West, with a little assistance, I took on a patrol that brought me to Ringo Moon, and happened to stumble across a TandiTech Tempest missile fab in Red Light. So, right in my back yard in other words. I knew I couldn't hurt that station even if I wanted to, so I just took note of its position and continued the patrol. I was definitely going to need something bigger though, as I now had seven fighters of various sizes on my ass and I couldn't kill them fast enough to avoid being shredded if I went after one of them. They also seemed to have adapted to my 'hit and run'-tactic, where I hit one and got the whole pack chasing me so I could stretch them out and pick them off one by one, as they now tended to stay in tight formation with only the Ns flying ahead of the rest. Might have to do some shopping when I can afford it.

Phew.

The last Xenon in Ringo Moon went down in flames, thanks to the assistance of the local patrols, and for once I was glad they were flying around. Things were getting a bit too hairy for my taste, so I let combat be combat for now and started exploring the sectors my Kestrel had skipped on its way out of Argon space instead.

One thing's for sure; I now know why someone invented the automated explorer, cause this is as boring as watching paint dry. However, now I had satellite coverage in the entire western block of Argon sectors and all I needed was …

That!

A Mercury Prototype for sale. And fairly cheap too. I paid the man and sent the ship to the shipyard in Argon Prime. It would be the first seeds of my new empire.

Yeah, I figured I kind of need more than one leg to stand on, especially since the OCV had proven to be hostile. I still wasn't sure if I wanted to enter that fray, but if they kept advancing I would probably have no other choice. And if they were powerful enough to overrun the sector defense in Tokyo Gamma we would probably need a hell of a lot of firepower to drive them back, which meant I needed a solid financial base to run the kind of operation needed to provide that firepower. That was, however, a thing I hopefully wouldn't have to worry about just yet.

Speaking about worries, I better get that Eclipse fixed and sold before someone either run into it or run off with it. Too bad it's hopelessly slow, otherwise I would have claimed it for myself

Hello, Ore Belt. Hello, Eclipse. And hello, private security mission.

"Thank Gunne you are here!" A clearly distressed woman appeared on my screen as I followed the link announced by the mission system.

"We've gotten frequent messages over the last couple of tazura, telling us to pay for 'security', but we couldn't afford it. My man and I just took over this station a few wozura ago, and now we're kinda stressed out 'bout this. Can you help us?"

I still wasn't up to speed on these weird Commonwealth time units, but if I remembered correctly a tazura was the equivalent of a day down here and a wozura was about eight terran days.

"Yeah, sure," I said. "For a price, of course …"

She laughed nervously.

"Well, we didn't expect you to do it for free … However, business has been kinda slow, so we can't pay you more than 323 484 credits."

I gave her a reassuring smile.

"I'll do it."

"Oh, thank you! Thank you, thank you, thank you!!!"

I cut the link in fear that she might start hugging the camera, which would have been really awkward. Then I lined up and waited …

"Warning. Hostile contact detected at western gate."

There they were. And … Bollocks, a P. Yeah, a Xenon corvette. I was wondering when they might start showing up, but I didn't think it would be this early. Well, here goes nothing.

The two Ns accompanying the P went down in flames after the first volley from my HEPTs. The P, on the other hand, would be a harder nut to crack. Time to close to knife range, then.

"Hey, toaster! Over here!"

The plasma bolts from my cannons hit it in the right engine nacelle, causing it to switch its attention from the station to me. As it started to turn I fired one more volley to make sure its attention stayed on me, then I hit the throttle and zipped underneath it to the other side. This obviously confused the toaster, as it tried to turn back to face me again.

"Nonono, other side!" I yelled as I zipped past it again. Of course it couldn't hear me, and it probably wouldn't understand me if it could, but almost like a dog on a trail it started turning again in a futile attempt to get me into its forward firing arc.

"Not gonna happen, buddy!" I zipped past it again and lined up for another attack, but only one of my HEPTs fired. Bollocks. I checked the weapons energy, and sure enough it was bone dry. I could avoid its guns all day long if I had to, and my shield generator was keeping the peashooters it had in its turrets at bay, but its shields were still in the fifties and while my guns would recharge, so would its shields.

"Huh?" A small flash to my left caught my eye. More popped up, just a few clicks away from us, and when I understood what they were I grinned. A quick scan of the map confirmed my suspicion, so I turned my nose towards the north gate and floored it.

Then, just on cue …

"Heads up, asshole!" I yelled at the P as the next salvo of Hammers flew by me. The flashes, which was the missile's self destruct mechanism, had told me there was probably a missile frigate here somewhere, and my satellite had confirmed that a Minotaur had indeed just jumped in from Home of Light. With the P focused entirely on me it got a face full of tactical nukes, and it ended about as well as you can imagine.

Oh, and the woman did hug the camera when I told her their problem was no more, and yes, it was very awkward.

This incident highlighted one of the challenges of having thirsty guns, namely that you risk running dry in the middle of a fight. Not particularly interested in repeating that I skimmed through the available options and decided to try getting my mitts on some energy bolt chainguns. They weren't quite as thirsty as my HEPTs, and while they didn't have the same punch they more than made up for it by being more efficient. If I remembered correctly the EBC was a Teladi weapon, which meant I had to head for Teladi space. Oh joy.

"Yesss?" A green, lizard-like face with hints of yellow above its eyes appeared on the screen. They way it looked at me you'd think it was trying to calculate how many pieces it could cut me in and how much they would earn it.

"Uhm … Way to the nearest shipyard, please?"

"Head sssouth to Ssseizewell. You will find one there."

"Thanks."

I cut the link and shuddered. Damn scary lizards. Well, south it is, then.

The next sector had a shipyard, and also what I was really looking for, namely an equipment dock. Now to find the weapons dealer in this hellhole …

"Uhm … Why are there no rep requirements on this?" I had found the weapons dealer, and now I was looking at all the toys she had.

"It'sss bad for busssinesss," the little one behind the counter hissed. "No rep requirementsss meansss more mercsss come to buy our waresss."

Yeah, folks like me. It kind of made sense, though. In an odd, moneygrubbing way. Lucky for me though, as I could buy some leverage to use against those pesky Xenon.

"Nice to know … I'll take eight energy bolt chainguns, then. And five Cyclone missiles. I also got eight high energy plasma throwers I'd like to sell."

She literally lit up when I mentioned the plasma throwers.

"Good choicssse! Would there be anything elssse?"

I thought about it for a moment. She did have a lot of tempting stuff, but I needed to think ahead. Right now I was getting by just nicely, but if the OCV decided to advance further into the Omicron Channel …

"No, that would be all. For now."

I left those last two words hanging in the air, and it had the intended effect as the Teladi lit up again.

Guess it's back on the hunt, then.

[Song Of Obsidian]

Cliffhangers are against the rules. So is dying before I know the story's started.

Now you can kill yourself again. Just...please wait a bit? I'd like the see three pages of posts before the dismayed shaking of heads(and silent laughter) begins.

[Triaxx2]

I guarantee the laughter will NOT be silent.

Also, did you remember ammo? Because as hilarious as it would be, I'd hate for the end of this story to be eight EBC's going CLICK because you forgot ammo.

[Zaitsev]

[Song Of Obsidian]

[Triaxx2]

I have been informed I am lacking in Tact.