I was three weeks out of Odia, hauling back some heavy gear after a station fire. Not that the gang of Itani hooligans who relayed the plasma feed back in on itself as a prank understood about market pressure, but hell, you can't begrudge 'em that. And I certainly ain't complainin'. An old spacer like me needs what help he can get, what with the recession on.

They say it'll be over soon and that we all need to sacrifice a little for our boys at the front, but that's just bureaucrat for, "We wish we had never gotten into this war in the first place, and now watch how I blame it on my predecessor." I don't even *have* any boys at the front, but that don't matter. UIT gets crapped on either way. At least this beats sneakin' Xith past border patrols.

So where was I? Oh, yeah, headin' back to Odia, bogged down with a load of equipment. Inertia is a bitch, but once you get up to speed, at least you can save some zeroes on you're fuel bills. I pass through the jump to Latos a bit incautiously, I suppose. I'd gotten soft, flyin' in monitored space too long. As I come through, the sensors ping and I see a red dot at six o'clock. The targeting computer picks it up on auto and gives me a distance, four hundred meters.

Now, having just jumped, I got no juice. My charge is low, my hold is full to capacity, and I was too cheap to refill the rocket tubes at the last stop. Oh, I'll fill 'em in Sedina, always cheap there. Smart thinkin', hauler.

I've still got a few locusts, all I could afford with the cargo I was plannin' on haulin', but with all the good A.I.s goin' to the war effort, I ain't countin' on em. I watch as the blip closes in an' I try a few evasive maneuvers I learned in trainin', but a laden centaur is no boat for acrobatics. As soon as the dot hits my forward sensors, I toss a volley of rockets, but it's a small ship and dodges 'em easily. I watch my charge slowly building, knowin' I got no quick escape, and I feel my hulk shudder with decompression as a stream of pea soup eats away at the hull. The cabin seals and pressurizes, givin' me a few extra moments of breathable air, and the hail comes.

"Yarr! Stand and deliver, matie!" the comm crackles.

"Alright, hold up then," I hit the dampeners to slow the ship. The little vulture-flyin' bastard pulls right in front of me, guns trained on the cockpit. I wonder if I could get him with the one volley of rockets I have left. The answer is probably yes, but maybe not before his pea shooters cut me in half. I try somethin' else.

"Ok, I'm stopped. Sorry, I'm new at this, new ship and all, you ever flown one?"

"Uh, yeah, I guess. Look, dump you're cargo and we can get on with our lives, OK?" he said, and I notice he slips out of his vernacular in confusion.

"Er, a bit embarrassin' here," I say, "But I'm not sure which button here opens the hold... er, you wouldn't know, would you?"

"For cryin' out loud, matie, are you daft?"

He starts cussin', but that's right about the time my charge is at capacity, and I grins. I say, "Ah, here it is, silly me, think I've found it." Zoom!

Thank god for dumb pirates and the ol', "We're sending you the codes now, Khan," trick. Of course, I ended up having to take the long way back home to Odia, but that's a small price to pay for making it in one piece.