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Broma-ba Slick hated paperwork. When he first bribed and blackmailed his way into Lieutenant's bars, he'd imagined himself dashing around the universe, giving orders, saving planets, and making lots of money. But he never imagined all the paperwork.
Heaving a heavy sigh, Broma grabbed the meter-high stack of reports that had accumulated in his in-box and trudged into his office. "Why," he muttered, "are we still using paper?" The fact that his office was unlocked never penetrated his consciousness. Neither did the presence of an all-too familiar figure lurking in the corner of his office.
"Heya, Broma." You really should install that security device I gave you."
"Hey LeberMac. Long time no see." Broma didn't look up from the scintillating report on price fluctations of carbonic ore in Deneb. Had he looked up, he might have noticed that LeberMac was wearing the bright green jumpsuit worn by all TGFT probationary members.
LeberMac paused for dramatic effect. Then he paused to let Broma's brain catch up with his lighting quick Itani mind. Then he paused to see just how long it would be before Broma actually looked up.
Broma turned the page to read the latest reports from Ecka's mining operations. Thirty-two single spaced pages on asteroid locations in Dantia.
LeberMac cleared his throat. "Gee. These green jumpsuits are really keen."
Broma grunted. "The tequila's in the liquor cabinet." He waved his hand toward a wooden hutch whose doors had already been pried open. Lebermac did his best to look embarrassed and tried to hide the slightly bent letter opener under one of Broma's many stacks of papers.
"I also just refereed those lesbian mudwresting matches that Raybondo was going to arrange for us at the bar in Azek I-4."
Broma leafed through pages of CLM communications intercepts. Who knew pirates could be soooooo boring. "Uh huh. That's great."
"Well, nice chatting with you Broma. I'm off to destroy the universe with my subatomic particle degrader in my DARK GREEN TGFT ISSUE MOTH...."
Broma squinted at Screwball's handwritten scrawl about a new top secret TGFT weapons technology. Or was it about the lousy food in the TGFT cafeteria? Screball should have been a doctor. "Nice to see you, Leebs."
LeberMac left Broma's office heading for the hangar deck. Maybe the old whoopee cushion in the pilot's seat would get Broma's attention.
Broma finally reached the two-week old urgent daily report labled "TO BE READ IMMEDIATELY." "What the hell???" he spluttered. "What damn fool let LEBERMAC in TGFT? Why doesn't anyone tell me anything?"
Heaving a heavy sigh, Broma grabbed the meter-high stack of reports that had accumulated in his in-box and trudged into his office. "Why," he muttered, "are we still using paper?" The fact that his office was unlocked never penetrated his consciousness. Neither did the presence of an all-too familiar figure lurking in the corner of his office.
"Heya, Broma." You really should install that security device I gave you."
"Hey LeberMac. Long time no see." Broma didn't look up from the scintillating report on price fluctations of carbonic ore in Deneb. Had he looked up, he might have noticed that LeberMac was wearing the bright green jumpsuit worn by all TGFT probationary members.
LeberMac paused for dramatic effect. Then he paused to let Broma's brain catch up with his lighting quick Itani mind. Then he paused to see just how long it would be before Broma actually looked up.
Broma turned the page to read the latest reports from Ecka's mining operations. Thirty-two single spaced pages on asteroid locations in Dantia.
LeberMac cleared his throat. "Gee. These green jumpsuits are really keen."
Broma grunted. "The tequila's in the liquor cabinet." He waved his hand toward a wooden hutch whose doors had already been pried open. Lebermac did his best to look embarrassed and tried to hide the slightly bent letter opener under one of Broma's many stacks of papers.
"I also just refereed those lesbian mudwresting matches that Raybondo was going to arrange for us at the bar in Azek I-4."
Broma leafed through pages of CLM communications intercepts. Who knew pirates could be soooooo boring. "Uh huh. That's great."
"Well, nice chatting with you Broma. I'm off to destroy the universe with my subatomic particle degrader in my DARK GREEN TGFT ISSUE MOTH...."
Broma squinted at Screwball's handwritten scrawl about a new top secret TGFT weapons technology. Or was it about the lousy food in the TGFT cafeteria? Screball should have been a doctor. "Nice to see you, Leebs."
LeberMac left Broma's office heading for the hangar deck. Maybe the old whoopee cushion in the pilot's seat would get Broma's attention.
Broma finally reached the two-week old urgent daily report labled "TO BE READ IMMEDIATELY." "What the hell???" he spluttered. "What damn fool let LEBERMAC in TGFT? Why doesn't anyone tell me anything?"
(Long version can be found here.)
Taking a short break from his work, Moby Dick strolled out of his new office with a steaming cup of tea in hand, and he walked into the neighboring office. Moby took a long sip of tea, visually inspecting Broma-ba Slick's office. While it was fairly in order, there was significantly more things in Broma's office than in his. He couldn't believe how much paper Broma had accumulated during his stint as a Lieutenant of TGFT.
Broma-ba Slick was in the middle of reviewing ore price reports when he heard someone take a sip of a drink. He looked up to see Moby Dick, the new TGFT commander. Broma quickly set down the reports he had in his hands, stood up, and gave Moby a sloppy salute. "Good morning, uh ... sir."
Moby chuckled at the site of a salute being performed by a trader, and then fealt slightly embarressed to be receiving a salute. "Sit down, Broma, and don't worry about the salute. Just because we use titles such as 'Commander' and 'Lieutenant' doesn't mean we have to act like the military. The reason why I stopped by is that I'd like for you and ScrewBall to continue as the lieutenants of TGFT."
Back in his chair, Broma replied, "Sure, Moby, I'd be happy to stay on."
Moby gave a thin smile and a nod of approval, "Excellent."
"Moby, I have a quick question. Who approved LeberMac's probationary membership in the guild?"
Moby Dick looked confused for a moment. Leber had been in the guild for a few weeks, everybody knew that. "Didn't you get the memo, Broma? ScrewBall, Anevitt, and I interviewed him. Screwball extended the invite. While we all know LeberMac has his quirks, Screw and I fealt he deserved an opportunity to prove himself."
Broma blinked. His fellow lieutenant and his new commander were the ones who approved LeberMac's membership. "Uhm, ok ... just curious. Thanks."
"No problem, Broma. I'll talk to you later." Moby started out the door, then paused and turned around. "Broma, why the hell do you have so many papers on your desk?"
Broma-ba Slick furrowed his brows and frowned for a moment. "You'll find out soon enough, Commander Dick." Broma's face now featured a wry smile.
Moby rolled his eyes and smirked. "I've got a small plasma torch that can take care of them."
Taking a short break from his work, Moby Dick strolled out of his new office with a steaming cup of tea in hand, and he walked into the neighboring office. Moby took a long sip of tea, visually inspecting Broma-ba Slick's office. While it was fairly in order, there was significantly more things in Broma's office than in his. He couldn't believe how much paper Broma had accumulated during his stint as a Lieutenant of TGFT.
Broma-ba Slick was in the middle of reviewing ore price reports when he heard someone take a sip of a drink. He looked up to see Moby Dick, the new TGFT commander. Broma quickly set down the reports he had in his hands, stood up, and gave Moby a sloppy salute. "Good morning, uh ... sir."
Moby chuckled at the site of a salute being performed by a trader, and then fealt slightly embarressed to be receiving a salute. "Sit down, Broma, and don't worry about the salute. Just because we use titles such as 'Commander' and 'Lieutenant' doesn't mean we have to act like the military. The reason why I stopped by is that I'd like for you and ScrewBall to continue as the lieutenants of TGFT."
Back in his chair, Broma replied, "Sure, Moby, I'd be happy to stay on."
Moby gave a thin smile and a nod of approval, "Excellent."
"Moby, I have a quick question. Who approved LeberMac's probationary membership in the guild?"
Moby Dick looked confused for a moment. Leber had been in the guild for a few weeks, everybody knew that. "Didn't you get the memo, Broma? ScrewBall, Anevitt, and I interviewed him. Screwball extended the invite. While we all know LeberMac has his quirks, Screw and I fealt he deserved an opportunity to prove himself."
Broma blinked. His fellow lieutenant and his new commander were the ones who approved LeberMac's membership. "Uhm, ok ... just curious. Thanks."
"No problem, Broma. I'll talk to you later." Moby started out the door, then paused and turned around. "Broma, why the hell do you have so many papers on your desk?"
Broma-ba Slick furrowed his brows and frowned for a moment. "You'll find out soon enough, Commander Dick." Broma's face now featured a wry smile.
Moby rolled his eyes and smirked. "I've got a small plasma torch that can take care of them."
LeberMac strolled down the corridor of [TGFT] headquarters, after getting a good chuckle out of Broma's dedication to his stacks of paper.
It had been a week and a half since Smittens kicked him out of the Itani guild [ITAN]. In truth, it had been a wonderful experience, not being tied down to any specific timetable, responsibilities, or duties of any kind. He took a swig from the bottle he'd appropriated from Broma and nodded to Ecka as he passed him in the corridor.
"Keep up the great mining reports, Ecka!" LeberMac said, "Broma LOVES 'em!"
"Really?" Ecka Estenk said with obvious surprise, "But I thought..."
"No, no, He LOVES it, the single-spacing, the thoroughness, the 6-point type, he was just commenting on how GREAT it all is, I just came from his office. In fact..." LeberMac said quietly, "I hear he'd like it if you could be even MORE efficient and eliminate all the line breaks and spaces from your report. It might save 13% more paper!" LeberMac nodded, emphasizing his point.
"Wow. OK!" Ecka exclaimed, "He really read my report, and liked it, huh?"
"From what I hear, you're on your way UP, kiddo!" LeberMac said reassuringly, "A few more reports like that and you just MIGHT be in line for a council seat!" LeberMac pointedly looked around and said in a hushed voice, "But... you didn't hear it from me, right?" Wink, wink.
"Right..." Ecka said, and nodded to LeberMac as he headed down to Broma's office, a spring in his step.
LeberMac nodded back and made his way further down the main corridor, headed to the spacedock. In his meandering journey back to his ship, he found himself in the hall where TGFT honored its past leaders. He came to the portrait of ViciousNanite, paused, and raised his bottle.
"Safe travels, wherever ya are, VN!"
"I'll drink to that." a female voice said from behind him.
LeberMac jumped about 2 feet in the air and banged his knee on the nearby desk, startled by the sudden appearance. He was SURE the room had been empty.
"For Eo's Sake, Obsidian, Don't DO that!" LeberMac exclaimed as he turned to see the smirking TGFT councilmember behind him. He made a point of rubbing his knee and looking around, making sure there were no other entrances to the room that he could have missed. How does she DO that? he wondered.
"I expect I'll see you at the Mining Event?" She quipped. "Since, you seem to be doing nothing but talking to painted canvas at the moment."
"Right! The mining event! Of course, Sure, I'll be there..." LeberMac was caught. He of course knew nothing about any mining event, he had been using the TGFT daily newsletters for origami material.
Obsidian looked sternly at LeberMac, as if she knew full well what he had been doing with his TGFT newsletters, and as if she knew that LeberMac had NO idea that the mining event was about to begin.
"Right so, see you there in 5 minutes?" Obsidian said, a little more sternly.
"Right, I was just on my way to my ship to do JUST that, Ma'am!", LeberMac lied. "But, 5 minutes? I don't think..."
"Do NOT be late." She cut him off as she walked towards the door with an evil smirk. "You've won the Deneb Run before, you should be able to make it from Dau to Sedina in that time..."
LeberMac nodded and ran to his ship, wondering how Obsidian would get there...
It had been a week and a half since Smittens kicked him out of the Itani guild [ITAN]. In truth, it had been a wonderful experience, not being tied down to any specific timetable, responsibilities, or duties of any kind. He took a swig from the bottle he'd appropriated from Broma and nodded to Ecka as he passed him in the corridor.
"Keep up the great mining reports, Ecka!" LeberMac said, "Broma LOVES 'em!"
"Really?" Ecka Estenk said with obvious surprise, "But I thought..."
"No, no, He LOVES it, the single-spacing, the thoroughness, the 6-point type, he was just commenting on how GREAT it all is, I just came from his office. In fact..." LeberMac said quietly, "I hear he'd like it if you could be even MORE efficient and eliminate all the line breaks and spaces from your report. It might save 13% more paper!" LeberMac nodded, emphasizing his point.
"Wow. OK!" Ecka exclaimed, "He really read my report, and liked it, huh?"
"From what I hear, you're on your way UP, kiddo!" LeberMac said reassuringly, "A few more reports like that and you just MIGHT be in line for a council seat!" LeberMac pointedly looked around and said in a hushed voice, "But... you didn't hear it from me, right?" Wink, wink.
"Right..." Ecka said, and nodded to LeberMac as he headed down to Broma's office, a spring in his step.
LeberMac nodded back and made his way further down the main corridor, headed to the spacedock. In his meandering journey back to his ship, he found himself in the hall where TGFT honored its past leaders. He came to the portrait of ViciousNanite, paused, and raised his bottle.
"Safe travels, wherever ya are, VN!"
"I'll drink to that." a female voice said from behind him.
LeberMac jumped about 2 feet in the air and banged his knee on the nearby desk, startled by the sudden appearance. He was SURE the room had been empty.
"For Eo's Sake, Obsidian, Don't DO that!" LeberMac exclaimed as he turned to see the smirking TGFT councilmember behind him. He made a point of rubbing his knee and looking around, making sure there were no other entrances to the room that he could have missed. How does she DO that? he wondered.
"I expect I'll see you at the Mining Event?" She quipped. "Since, you seem to be doing nothing but talking to painted canvas at the moment."
"Right! The mining event! Of course, Sure, I'll be there..." LeberMac was caught. He of course knew nothing about any mining event, he had been using the TGFT daily newsletters for origami material.
Obsidian looked sternly at LeberMac, as if she knew full well what he had been doing with his TGFT newsletters, and as if she knew that LeberMac had NO idea that the mining event was about to begin.
"Right so, see you there in 5 minutes?" Obsidian said, a little more sternly.
"Right, I was just on my way to my ship to do JUST that, Ma'am!", LeberMac lied. "But, 5 minutes? I don't think..."
"Do NOT be late." She cut him off as she walked towards the door with an evil smirk. "You've won the Deneb Run before, you should be able to make it from Dau to Sedina in that time..."
LeberMac nodded and ran to his ship, wondering how Obsidian would get there...
Jefferson Clay woke up on the floor of his apartment when a somewhat lost pizza delivery boy rang the doorbell. He directed the fairley young man to the correct room down the corridor and sat down in his easy chair. He then looked at the clock and realized hed slept in and missed the mining event somewhat dissapointed he cursed at himself for spending the past 36 hours shooting up the sedina hive.
With nothing else to do for the night he turned on the news. It was quickley obvious that it was a slow news day; no unusual pirate or hive activity to report, only some ramblings about what makes ion storms. "Hell with this, im going back to bed, hopefully sombody will actually see the 'do not disturb' sign" clay said to himself. He then picked up an old golf club and broke the doorbell speaker on the wall near his bed, "that should take care of that, time for some shut eye".
A few minutes later clay was snoring away in his hoverboy 9-iron still in hand.
With nothing else to do for the night he turned on the news. It was quickley obvious that it was a slow news day; no unusual pirate or hive activity to report, only some ramblings about what makes ion storms. "Hell with this, im going back to bed, hopefully sombody will actually see the 'do not disturb' sign" clay said to himself. He then picked up an old golf club and broke the doorbell speaker on the wall near his bed, "that should take care of that, time for some shut eye".
A few minutes later clay was snoring away in his hoverboy 9-iron still in hand.
So Leber really HAD joined TGFT Smittens realized as Broma's "Did you hear?" message popped up on his computer screen. Smittens had thought it all a joke. Honestly who would accept Leber anywhere? The drunk was always knocking himself unconcious on some station in Pelatus or Latos, skipping out on duty for hours at a time, and of course never managing to get anywhere on time, even after winning multiple Deneb runs.
Thinking as quickly as he could, Smittens called up Leber's private line, for Commanders and Lieutenants of Itan. Coincidentally at that exact moment, a ringing started blasting somewhere in his office. Holding his Porta-Comm up to his ear with his shoulder, Smittens got up from his nice warm chair and began searching for the sound. It took a few minutes for him to find Leber's old Itan Lt Comm Device burried under a few crumpled games of Tic-Tac-Toe in Smittens' trash can.
"So that's how you're going to play it..." mumbled Smittens to no one in particular. "Well you're gonna regret making me do this...breaking out the old snail-mal," he continued, and like a 44th century E-Marketer, he opened up the old fashioned E-Mail client on his system and pulled open Leber's contact info.
Speaking out loud as he typed, Smittens composed the letter...
"Dear star-star-star-starweed,
What the star-star-star-star are you thinking? You know that as soon as they find out about how much bigger your alcohol problem is they are going to boot you. I'll give you ten days to accept my revite to Itan and then you'll be stuck out on your own.
Signed, COMMANDER Smittens. And don't you forget it...winky face"
Pleased, he clicked "Send" and waited a whole three seconds while the message sent. "How did our ancestors LIVE?" he questioned the air, waiting another twenty seconds for Leber's reply to appear in his inbox.
"Smitty,
Screw you.
-Leber"
Just as he always could, Leber infuriated Smittens with the least words possible. "So that's how its gonna be, eh*?" Thinking for but a moment, Smittens sent off a page to Moby Dick.
Thirteen minutes later, his porta-comm buzzed on the desk, and Smittens let it ring a few seconds so as not to seem too eager.
"Hello?" he asked casually as though it could be anyone, including one of fourteen Corvus maids that he may be claiming to have persued a relationship with.
"Hello Commander, this is CO Moby Dick of TGFT. How can I help you?"
"Hey Moby! Well I wanted to just give you a ring and let you know how glad I am that a fellow Itani got the top job of one of the biggest guilds. Congrats!"
"Well, thank you, but is that all you wanted to say?"
"Now that you mention it, I had been throwing around this idea in my head for a while...we both lead rather large guilds, and it struck me as odd that we've never had relations better than neutral. Perhaps we should consider a dinner here, a joint operation there, stuff like that to build up a better spirit of cooperation between our two guilds?"
"An interresting proposal...I'll have to talk to the others in TGFT. We of course can't afford to be dragged in to your war."
"Of course," said Smittens hurridly. "But we shouldn't let a little thing like that prevent such a potentially big relationship from starting!"
"As I said, I'll talk to the others. I'll get back to you. Moby Dick out."
Smittens nodded, the conversation had gone as expected. Now to deal with the heart of the matter. Calling up Lt. Genotype, Smittens issued a quick order. "Hey Geno, not much time to talk. Listen, I need you and whoever you can get to help you to round up every single drop of Leber's old tequila that he forgot to take with him. Load it ALL into a single moth, and set it on auto-pilot for the furthest reaches of space. But make sure this is a well publicized event. Oh, and also, set a charge in it for...72 hours. That should give our little renegade enough time to fly over."
----
*Suddenly GooBall's voice blared over Itan's private channel. "Stop saying 'eh!'"
Thinking as quickly as he could, Smittens called up Leber's private line, for Commanders and Lieutenants of Itan. Coincidentally at that exact moment, a ringing started blasting somewhere in his office. Holding his Porta-Comm up to his ear with his shoulder, Smittens got up from his nice warm chair and began searching for the sound. It took a few minutes for him to find Leber's old Itan Lt Comm Device burried under a few crumpled games of Tic-Tac-Toe in Smittens' trash can.
"So that's how you're going to play it..." mumbled Smittens to no one in particular. "Well you're gonna regret making me do this...breaking out the old snail-mal," he continued, and like a 44th century E-Marketer, he opened up the old fashioned E-Mail client on his system and pulled open Leber's contact info.
Speaking out loud as he typed, Smittens composed the letter...
"Dear star-star-star-starweed,
What the star-star-star-star are you thinking? You know that as soon as they find out about how much bigger your alcohol problem is they are going to boot you. I'll give you ten days to accept my revite to Itan and then you'll be stuck out on your own.
Signed, COMMANDER Smittens. And don't you forget it...winky face"
Pleased, he clicked "Send" and waited a whole three seconds while the message sent. "How did our ancestors LIVE?" he questioned the air, waiting another twenty seconds for Leber's reply to appear in his inbox.
"Smitty,
Screw you.
-Leber"
Just as he always could, Leber infuriated Smittens with the least words possible. "So that's how its gonna be, eh*?" Thinking for but a moment, Smittens sent off a page to Moby Dick.
Thirteen minutes later, his porta-comm buzzed on the desk, and Smittens let it ring a few seconds so as not to seem too eager.
"Hello?" he asked casually as though it could be anyone, including one of fourteen Corvus maids that he may be claiming to have persued a relationship with.
"Hello Commander, this is CO Moby Dick of TGFT. How can I help you?"
"Hey Moby! Well I wanted to just give you a ring and let you know how glad I am that a fellow Itani got the top job of one of the biggest guilds. Congrats!"
"Well, thank you, but is that all you wanted to say?"
"Now that you mention it, I had been throwing around this idea in my head for a while...we both lead rather large guilds, and it struck me as odd that we've never had relations better than neutral. Perhaps we should consider a dinner here, a joint operation there, stuff like that to build up a better spirit of cooperation between our two guilds?"
"An interresting proposal...I'll have to talk to the others in TGFT. We of course can't afford to be dragged in to your war."
"Of course," said Smittens hurridly. "But we shouldn't let a little thing like that prevent such a potentially big relationship from starting!"
"As I said, I'll talk to the others. I'll get back to you. Moby Dick out."
Smittens nodded, the conversation had gone as expected. Now to deal with the heart of the matter. Calling up Lt. Genotype, Smittens issued a quick order. "Hey Geno, not much time to talk. Listen, I need you and whoever you can get to help you to round up every single drop of Leber's old tequila that he forgot to take with him. Load it ALL into a single moth, and set it on auto-pilot for the furthest reaches of space. But make sure this is a well publicized event. Oh, and also, set a charge in it for...72 hours. That should give our little renegade enough time to fly over."
----
*Suddenly GooBall's voice blared over Itan's private channel. "Stop saying 'eh!'"
LOL!
Old Ecka stepped into Lt Broma's office , and dropped his latest report onto the overflowing "in" tray on the desk. Broma scanned the title and groaned inwardly.
-Central Nyrius asteroid belt, TGFT protected mining operations ,Predicted Vanazek yeilds-
"Money to be made there Broma, Keep the guild coffers full"
" Okay Ecka, set up a Group when things are quiet next week"
" Erm , I just ran into Leber . A relatively sober Leber . A Leber in TGFT green . A trading and mining Leber ? Is there something I should Know about before I hit it with a moth ? "
" There may be Ecka . Too early to say for definite , plans are still in a state of flux", came the guarded reply. Noting the broken drinks cabinet Ecka left Broma to his ever present stack of paper.....
Ecka did what he always did when he needed to think. Now he found himself in a well used mining moth that had once been TGFT green , but which was now the strange brown shade of a betheshee beefburger. The Estenk Deep Mining Co. had 30 of these moths scattered around the universe , and there are a lot of quiet roid fields where a man can think.
All comms channels open. The ships computers linked across the web of space to TGFT's guild databases and resources.
So Ecka mined and listened and thought.......
-Central Nyrius asteroid belt, TGFT protected mining operations ,Predicted Vanazek yeilds-
"Money to be made there Broma, Keep the guild coffers full"
" Okay Ecka, set up a Group when things are quiet next week"
" Erm , I just ran into Leber . A relatively sober Leber . A Leber in TGFT green . A trading and mining Leber ? Is there something I should Know about before I hit it with a moth ? "
" There may be Ecka . Too early to say for definite , plans are still in a state of flux", came the guarded reply. Noting the broken drinks cabinet Ecka left Broma to his ever present stack of paper.....
Ecka did what he always did when he needed to think. Now he found himself in a well used mining moth that had once been TGFT green , but which was now the strange brown shade of a betheshee beefburger. The Estenk Deep Mining Co. had 30 of these moths scattered around the universe , and there are a lot of quiet roid fields where a man can think.
All comms channels open. The ships computers linked across the web of space to TGFT's guild databases and resources.
So Ecka mined and listened and thought.......
"I'll drink to that."
A small smile crept to her lips as Obsidian saw Lebermac jump. It was nice to get a chance to turn the tables on him. She remembered a time she was called into the head guide office because of a report that Lebermac and Smittens were fighting over her, err rather 'Obsidina'. Seeing Leber’s response was priceless and she grinned has he rubbed his knee.
Obsidian had been working for the UIT Work Corps for more than a year and had been steadily rising in rank and position. It seemed like only a few months ago that she had been reassigned to the Latos to Odia territory. There she organized events to train miners and identify people for the UIT.
“I expect I'll see you at the Mining Event?" She quipped. "Since, you seem to be doing nothing but talking to painted canvas at the moment."
While the mining events were attracting potential recruits, one miner constantly performed at the top of the pack. Mr Spuck was a bit of an enigma, he seemed eager to join in and at times fond of Obsidian but often he greeted her with “Hi Evil Guide!”. One thing was certain, Mr. Spuck had a memory for asteroids. Obsidian remembered the time when ViciousNanite tried to give her directions to his cash cow of and asteroid in Arta Celeste. As hard as she tried to memorize the shape of the riods all she saw were potatoes or heads of a duck. Mr. Spuck almost always exceeded the mining requirements in every event.
Obsidian would have to admit it was a bit surprising to find Lebermac in TGFT but she would relish this opportunity to put him through his paces. She made a mental note to visit Broma, Screwball, and Moby to discuss some special projects. Until then she’d keep lebermac busy and make him an active part of the guild.
"Right so, see you there in 5 minutes?" Obsidian said, a little more sternly. As Lebermac stumbled out of the room she laughed softy to herself “if he only knew…”
A small smile crept to her lips as Obsidian saw Lebermac jump. It was nice to get a chance to turn the tables on him. She remembered a time she was called into the head guide office because of a report that Lebermac and Smittens were fighting over her, err rather 'Obsidina'. Seeing Leber’s response was priceless and she grinned has he rubbed his knee.
Obsidian had been working for the UIT Work Corps for more than a year and had been steadily rising in rank and position. It seemed like only a few months ago that she had been reassigned to the Latos to Odia territory. There she organized events to train miners and identify people for the UIT.
“I expect I'll see you at the Mining Event?" She quipped. "Since, you seem to be doing nothing but talking to painted canvas at the moment."
While the mining events were attracting potential recruits, one miner constantly performed at the top of the pack. Mr Spuck was a bit of an enigma, he seemed eager to join in and at times fond of Obsidian but often he greeted her with “Hi Evil Guide!”. One thing was certain, Mr. Spuck had a memory for asteroids. Obsidian remembered the time when ViciousNanite tried to give her directions to his cash cow of and asteroid in Arta Celeste. As hard as she tried to memorize the shape of the riods all she saw were potatoes or heads of a duck. Mr. Spuck almost always exceeded the mining requirements in every event.
Obsidian would have to admit it was a bit surprising to find Lebermac in TGFT but she would relish this opportunity to put him through his paces. She made a mental note to visit Broma, Screwball, and Moby to discuss some special projects. Until then she’d keep lebermac busy and make him an active part of the guild.
"Right so, see you there in 5 minutes?" Obsidian said, a little more sternly. As Lebermac stumbled out of the room she laughed softy to herself “if he only knew…”
The current snapped across from one wire, throgh his left thumb and into the other. Zathras, again, withdrew his hand from the Moth and cried out in pain.
"No no no. Live wires are not to be toyed with" he muttered to himself, reaching for The Device.
The Device, capable of infiltrating any ships control system and relaying data to the stations halfway across the system, would revolutionize spaceflight and surely make Zathras the most wealthy trader in the 'verse.
With The Device firmly in one hand, and a hydrospanner in the other, he leaned into the open Moth side panel. "Zathras hopes the current is not too strong for the voltage regulators," he muttered to himself "or The Device will fry, and Zathras will remain poor."
Just as he had clamped The Device to the free slot, and was fastening it with the hydrospanner, someone smelling heavily of tequila ran past, nudging Zathras ever so slightly.
He cried out as he lost his balance and poked his elbow into where the bottom of the compartment, right on the exposed live wires.
"Sorrydon'thavetimeI'llbuyyouadrinklater", someone shouted from behind the next corner.
"LeberMac?" Zathras said to himself. "What is HE doing HERE?! Zathras has warned against letting in more drunks in the Guild, but no... Nobody listens to Zathras", he clicked his lips and shook his head. "Back to work"
Poking his head into the Moth again, Zathras noticed The Device neatly nested between the live wires, smelling sharply of burnt out voltage regulators.
"No no no. Live wires are not to be toyed with" he muttered to himself, reaching for The Device.
The Device, capable of infiltrating any ships control system and relaying data to the stations halfway across the system, would revolutionize spaceflight and surely make Zathras the most wealthy trader in the 'verse.
With The Device firmly in one hand, and a hydrospanner in the other, he leaned into the open Moth side panel. "Zathras hopes the current is not too strong for the voltage regulators," he muttered to himself "or The Device will fry, and Zathras will remain poor."
Just as he had clamped The Device to the free slot, and was fastening it with the hydrospanner, someone smelling heavily of tequila ran past, nudging Zathras ever so slightly.
He cried out as he lost his balance and poked his elbow into where the bottom of the compartment, right on the exposed live wires.
"Sorrydon'thavetimeI'llbuyyouadrinklater", someone shouted from behind the next corner.
"LeberMac?" Zathras said to himself. "What is HE doing HERE?! Zathras has warned against letting in more drunks in the Guild, but no... Nobody listens to Zathras", he clicked his lips and shook his head. "Back to work"
Poking his head into the Moth again, Zathras noticed The Device neatly nested between the live wires, smelling sharply of burnt out voltage regulators.
LeberMac ran past some more TGFT personnel, bumping into some of them in his rush to make it to the mining event, and jumped into the cockpit of the ship he had parked in Dau - a Centaur Mk. I. Being unfamilliar with jumping into the larger vessel, he banged the same knee on the side of the cockpit and tumbled into the pilot's seat sideways.
Swearing in pain, he mashed the "LAUNCH" button and the ship rocketed out of the bay at an odd angle, clipping the bay door as well as some poor Serco trader in an EC-89.
This ship had a rather large cockpit, affording LeberMac a rather large contingent of Tequila to take with him in his missions. He hit the destination for Sedina K-13 mashed the turbo, and made ready to hit the jump witch. He waited.
He opened a bottle of tequila, poured himself several shots.
And waited.
"Holy Hell, what in Eo is taking so long?" He checked the velocity indicator and it read 197 m/s. Surely something was WRONG with this ship. It shuddered and vibrated. The engines strained. 198 m/s.
He checked his cargo hold - surely someone had loaded Ion Cores in there as a joke. Nope. Hm. 199 m/s.
He went back to his pilot's seat and pulled out the ship's manual from the cockpit glovebox. He removed the protective plastic bag that read "READ ME BEFORE LAUNCH" and cracked the cover. He read, fascinated with these instructions. "Wow - a tertiary fire button? Hunh!" He read on inside this treasure trove of information, but was interrupted in his reverie by a beeping. He looked at the control panel.
It read << 3000m Safe Distance Reached || Jump When Ready >>
He jumped and dropped the manual under two discarded tequila bottles. Sadly, Leber had missed the next line in the Centaur Mk. I's manual, which said: Top Speed 200 m/s.
"Oh for cryin' out LOUD!" LeberMac said as the ship sluggishly twisted through null-space on its journey to Azek. The remaining travel time didn't seem to go any faster, and the engine made strange noises.
A full 15 minutes and two tequila bottles later, LeberMac arrived late for the mining event, expecting to be stripped of his TGFT beanie and his membership. Obsidian had delayed the start of it apparently, and he received the terse message "Join 444. You are in Spaceranger's group."
"Phew." LeberMac said with relief in not getting his ass chewed for being late, as he piloted what was possibly the slowest ship in the universe into a clumsy and collision-filled docking seqence with Sedina Orbital II station.
He switched ships into a TPG Raptor he had stashed there, preparing to defend his convoy group as usual. Finally, some action!
"LeberMac. Report in." His comm squeaked. It was his group leader, Spaceranger.
"LeberMac here, I'm ready to defend the miners from the pirates!" LeberMac said proudly into the mic.
"Riight. Yeah.... About that..." Spaceranger said dryly, the electronic interference of Sedina distorting his voice signal. "We really are gonna need you to.. yeah... just go ahead and get back in the Centaur and get some mining beams... yeah."
"You gotta be fracking kidding." Leber spat into the comm.
"No joke, oh and get a mineral scanner. SpaceRanger out."
LeberMac docked and climbed back into the Centaur, this time careful not to bump his knee on the cockpit edge. He hit his head on the unfamiliar craft's canopy instead, and lit up the comm channel with a string of creative profanity as he exited the dock and ran into the rear of a Xang Xi Behemoth Heavy convoymember.
The mining event was underway with a "GO" from Obsidian.
The gravitic drive of the Centaur clattered and ground up to speed, propelling him to the first destination. LeberMac flew through an extremely boring sector looking for lanthanic ore. This later appeared exciting compared to the next two sectors of dark gray asteroids which he found himself in. Luckily, he had found a nice 91% Lanthanic rock which quickly fulfilled the lanthanic quota for the event. Next up, the even more exciting ore: Apicene!
LeberMac grumbled as he dropped off his lanthanic catch at base and limped towards Odia to grab some Apicene in the sector designated by his team leader Spaceranger.
"Careful, this sector's bot infested." Spaceranger said.
"Great. I'm stuck in the slowest and clumsiest ship in the galaxy, with no weapons, and I'm headed into a sector full of Dentek Assaults." LeberMac mused to himself. 'Well, at least this'll be exciting."
He found an asteroid which as about half apicene and proceeded to mine it, under fire from various Assault Hive bots. The dodging and strafing skills honed in endless combat sorties made this a cakewalk, and he was soon full of Apicene.
"Headed back. Got 10 Lanthanic and 31 Apicene." Leber spoke into the mic.
"Roger that." Spaceranger said, "Watch the WH, pirates there."
"Pfft." Leber said with disdain. He hadn't been killed by a pirate in... well... hell at LEAST since last Sunday. He wound up the jump engines, which sounded worse and worse with each jump, and hit Odia B-13.
Unaligned Corvus pirates loomed before him, but he boosted for the wormhole and their poor intercept vectors soon made them nothing but faint red dots in his rear radar. However, there were other pirates waiting at the wormhole. "Pay me 25,000 credits to pass" was the message from fooz, a pirate best known for not being very well known.
"Whatever." LeberMac scoffed, and jumped to Sedina O-6. Fooz and another pirate followed his jump.
By the time they appeared, LeberMac was already on the other side of the wormhole, wrestling with his ship's directional control, pointing it towards a clear patch of sky. Unfortunately, LeberMac's turbo control cut out at a most inopportune time.
He mashed the secondary turbo key and began to make small course adjustments to avoid the incoming fire from the two pirates. He'd been hit a couple of times right after the wormhole, and now he was cursing the slow acceleration of his heavily laden crappy ship as the dim glow finally lit up on his control panel:
<< 3000m Safe Distance Reached || Jump When Ready >>
Both pirates were right behind him and closing, and he had 20% hull left. "What the hell, no one lives forever..." He made a quick course correction on the turbo and jumped, hoping that the pirate Fooz would not be able to line up a shot in time...
He woke up to white walls and bright lights in Sedina II Orbital after the explosion. The senior cloning tech clucked disdain at LeberMac as he sat up. "Those Centaurs are NOT Valks, you know..." he said under his breath.
Yeah, yeah, Don't I know it, doc." LeberMac said, after checking the event's results. His death had put the pirates over the top and allowed them to win the event, a usual rarity. Not good news for him.
"Hm. You sure you're cut out for this?" The tech said as he handed Leber a newly-pressed TGFT-Green flightsuit.
LeberMac's answer was a rude gesture as he stormed out of the cloning lab, past the bar where the celebrating pirates were whooping it up, and into the TPG Raptor again. He needed to go shoot something.
Swearing in pain, he mashed the "LAUNCH" button and the ship rocketed out of the bay at an odd angle, clipping the bay door as well as some poor Serco trader in an EC-89.
This ship had a rather large cockpit, affording LeberMac a rather large contingent of Tequila to take with him in his missions. He hit the destination for Sedina K-13 mashed the turbo, and made ready to hit the jump witch. He waited.
He opened a bottle of tequila, poured himself several shots.
And waited.
"Holy Hell, what in Eo is taking so long?" He checked the velocity indicator and it read 197 m/s. Surely something was WRONG with this ship. It shuddered and vibrated. The engines strained. 198 m/s.
He checked his cargo hold - surely someone had loaded Ion Cores in there as a joke. Nope. Hm. 199 m/s.
He went back to his pilot's seat and pulled out the ship's manual from the cockpit glovebox. He removed the protective plastic bag that read "READ ME BEFORE LAUNCH" and cracked the cover. He read, fascinated with these instructions. "Wow - a tertiary fire button? Hunh!" He read on inside this treasure trove of information, but was interrupted in his reverie by a beeping. He looked at the control panel.
It read << 3000m Safe Distance Reached || Jump When Ready >>
He jumped and dropped the manual under two discarded tequila bottles. Sadly, Leber had missed the next line in the Centaur Mk. I's manual, which said: Top Speed 200 m/s.
"Oh for cryin' out LOUD!" LeberMac said as the ship sluggishly twisted through null-space on its journey to Azek. The remaining travel time didn't seem to go any faster, and the engine made strange noises.
A full 15 minutes and two tequila bottles later, LeberMac arrived late for the mining event, expecting to be stripped of his TGFT beanie and his membership. Obsidian had delayed the start of it apparently, and he received the terse message "Join 444. You are in Spaceranger's group."
"Phew." LeberMac said with relief in not getting his ass chewed for being late, as he piloted what was possibly the slowest ship in the universe into a clumsy and collision-filled docking seqence with Sedina Orbital II station.
He switched ships into a TPG Raptor he had stashed there, preparing to defend his convoy group as usual. Finally, some action!
"LeberMac. Report in." His comm squeaked. It was his group leader, Spaceranger.
"LeberMac here, I'm ready to defend the miners from the pirates!" LeberMac said proudly into the mic.
"Riight. Yeah.... About that..." Spaceranger said dryly, the electronic interference of Sedina distorting his voice signal. "We really are gonna need you to.. yeah... just go ahead and get back in the Centaur and get some mining beams... yeah."
"You gotta be fracking kidding." Leber spat into the comm.
"No joke, oh and get a mineral scanner. SpaceRanger out."
LeberMac docked and climbed back into the Centaur, this time careful not to bump his knee on the cockpit edge. He hit his head on the unfamiliar craft's canopy instead, and lit up the comm channel with a string of creative profanity as he exited the dock and ran into the rear of a Xang Xi Behemoth Heavy convoymember.
The mining event was underway with a "GO" from Obsidian.
The gravitic drive of the Centaur clattered and ground up to speed, propelling him to the first destination. LeberMac flew through an extremely boring sector looking for lanthanic ore. This later appeared exciting compared to the next two sectors of dark gray asteroids which he found himself in. Luckily, he had found a nice 91% Lanthanic rock which quickly fulfilled the lanthanic quota for the event. Next up, the even more exciting ore: Apicene!
LeberMac grumbled as he dropped off his lanthanic catch at base and limped towards Odia to grab some Apicene in the sector designated by his team leader Spaceranger.
"Careful, this sector's bot infested." Spaceranger said.
"Great. I'm stuck in the slowest and clumsiest ship in the galaxy, with no weapons, and I'm headed into a sector full of Dentek Assaults." LeberMac mused to himself. 'Well, at least this'll be exciting."
He found an asteroid which as about half apicene and proceeded to mine it, under fire from various Assault Hive bots. The dodging and strafing skills honed in endless combat sorties made this a cakewalk, and he was soon full of Apicene.
"Headed back. Got 10 Lanthanic and 31 Apicene." Leber spoke into the mic.
"Roger that." Spaceranger said, "Watch the WH, pirates there."
"Pfft." Leber said with disdain. He hadn't been killed by a pirate in... well... hell at LEAST since last Sunday. He wound up the jump engines, which sounded worse and worse with each jump, and hit Odia B-13.
Unaligned Corvus pirates loomed before him, but he boosted for the wormhole and their poor intercept vectors soon made them nothing but faint red dots in his rear radar. However, there were other pirates waiting at the wormhole. "Pay me 25,000 credits to pass" was the message from fooz, a pirate best known for not being very well known.
"Whatever." LeberMac scoffed, and jumped to Sedina O-6. Fooz and another pirate followed his jump.
By the time they appeared, LeberMac was already on the other side of the wormhole, wrestling with his ship's directional control, pointing it towards a clear patch of sky. Unfortunately, LeberMac's turbo control cut out at a most inopportune time.
He mashed the secondary turbo key and began to make small course adjustments to avoid the incoming fire from the two pirates. He'd been hit a couple of times right after the wormhole, and now he was cursing the slow acceleration of his heavily laden crappy ship as the dim glow finally lit up on his control panel:
<< 3000m Safe Distance Reached || Jump When Ready >>
Both pirates were right behind him and closing, and he had 20% hull left. "What the hell, no one lives forever..." He made a quick course correction on the turbo and jumped, hoping that the pirate Fooz would not be able to line up a shot in time...
He woke up to white walls and bright lights in Sedina II Orbital after the explosion. The senior cloning tech clucked disdain at LeberMac as he sat up. "Those Centaurs are NOT Valks, you know..." he said under his breath.
Yeah, yeah, Don't I know it, doc." LeberMac said, after checking the event's results. His death had put the pirates over the top and allowed them to win the event, a usual rarity. Not good news for him.
"Hm. You sure you're cut out for this?" The tech said as he handed Leber a newly-pressed TGFT-Green flightsuit.
LeberMac's answer was a rude gesture as he stormed out of the cloning lab, past the bar where the celebrating pirates were whooping it up, and into the TPG Raptor again. He needed to go shoot something.
A new dot appeared on who? me?'s radar. A hostile! who? me? spun around to confront the enemy.
Hmm. Something must be wrong, its only LeberMac. who? me? targeted his ship and realised what had happened.
LeberMac was a TRADER??? Only in his wildest dreams' dreams had who? me? even dreamed that this could happen!
only one course of action...
who? me? went in for the kill.
Hmm. Something must be wrong, its only LeberMac. who? me? targeted his ship and realised what had happened.
LeberMac was a TRADER??? Only in his wildest dreams' dreams had who? me? even dreamed that this could happen!
only one course of action...
who? me? went in for the kill.
"Moby, are you going to join us for dinner, or is your work going to consume your entire weekend?" yelled a female voice from the kitchen.
In the past, Moby Dick did a very good job at separating his work from his free time, but this weekend he just couldn't seem to get away from it. Moby had travelled to Pherona to visit with one of his sisters and her family, but he really hadn't spent much time with them.
"Two minutes!" he replied, knowing it would probably be five.
"Let's see here," Moby thought outloud as he scanned his To Do list. The only items that remained were scheduling a meeting with his lieutenants, Broma-ba Slick and Screwball, and finding someone to haul 100cu of wine and liquor from Dau to Verasi. Moby was avoiding the last item for the last 30 minutes, so he figured he'd put it off a little more.
"Computer, schedule a meeting with Lieutenants Broma-ba Slick and Screwball. Preferred time: tomorrow afternoon, 2pm. Regarding: formal diplomatic relations with ITAN." Moby Dick found the timing of Commander Smittens message a bit curious because the dust surrounding LeberGate hadn't even begun to settle in blue space. However, he was happy with the prospect of formal diplomatic relations with ITAN. One of Moby's goals for the guild is to expand diplomatic relations and have formal relationships with ITAN, SCAR, and as many of the major guilds as possible.
"Meeting scheduled for Tuesday morning at 8am," the computer responded.
Moby Dick sarcasticly replied, "Thanks."
One of Moby Dick's side businesses is beverage distribution. He has a few select clients all of the universe. Moby Dick only deals in very highend wines and spirits, and he charges a pretty penny. Because of this, he really has to pamper his customers.
One of his UIT customers referred a Valent Robotics official his way. This new client was in quite a bind. Valent Robotics has a widely publicized product launch on Monday, and they have a very large ball scheduled for the evening. The supplier they originally ordered their booze from botched the order, so Valent Robotics called Moby Dick for help. They needed 100cu of the finest wines and liquor delivered to Verasi before the morning.
"Of course this happens when I'm on the other side of the universe and the entire guild is MIA," Moby Dick said to no one in particular.
"Huh? Are you ready to eat yet?" the voice from the kitchen yelled.
"In a sec!"
Moby let out a big sigh. He couldn't believe what he was going to have to do. Moby Dick opened a comm channel to the only available guild member close to Dau.
"Goo evenin Mobeee. LeberMac at your slervice."
Moby paused for a moment, knowing full well that Lebermac was drunk. "Leber, I need you to do me a favor. I need you to fly a moth from Dau to Verasi. Can you handle that?"
LeberMac, attempting to sound sober, replied lightheartedly, "Dau to Rhamus? Oh sure, that won't be a problem. I've been working on my Serco standing!"
"No, Leber! Dau to Verasi! It's only two jumps, and the moth is ready to go. I already contacted my deckhands, and they've loaded the cargo. You'll be going to Verasi Central, E-14. An official with Valent Robotics will be expecting you. You take care of this for me, I'll pay you 200,000 credits and a case of whatever kind of tequila you want."
"You got it! LeberMac out." LeberMac heard "tequila" and immediately got under way.
Moby Dick logged off of the terminal and joined his sister, brother-in-law, and nephew in their dining room for dinner, although he wasn't hungry anymore. Moby was both relieved and worried - relieved that LeberMac didn't ask about the cargo he was hauling and worried that his very reputable beverage distribution business was in the hands of the universe's most notorious drunk.
In the past, Moby Dick did a very good job at separating his work from his free time, but this weekend he just couldn't seem to get away from it. Moby had travelled to Pherona to visit with one of his sisters and her family, but he really hadn't spent much time with them.
"Two minutes!" he replied, knowing it would probably be five.
"Let's see here," Moby thought outloud as he scanned his To Do list. The only items that remained were scheduling a meeting with his lieutenants, Broma-ba Slick and Screwball, and finding someone to haul 100cu of wine and liquor from Dau to Verasi. Moby was avoiding the last item for the last 30 minutes, so he figured he'd put it off a little more.
"Computer, schedule a meeting with Lieutenants Broma-ba Slick and Screwball. Preferred time: tomorrow afternoon, 2pm. Regarding: formal diplomatic relations with ITAN." Moby Dick found the timing of Commander Smittens message a bit curious because the dust surrounding LeberGate hadn't even begun to settle in blue space. However, he was happy with the prospect of formal diplomatic relations with ITAN. One of Moby's goals for the guild is to expand diplomatic relations and have formal relationships with ITAN, SCAR, and as many of the major guilds as possible.
"Meeting scheduled for Tuesday morning at 8am," the computer responded.
Moby Dick sarcasticly replied, "Thanks."
One of Moby Dick's side businesses is beverage distribution. He has a few select clients all of the universe. Moby Dick only deals in very highend wines and spirits, and he charges a pretty penny. Because of this, he really has to pamper his customers.
One of his UIT customers referred a Valent Robotics official his way. This new client was in quite a bind. Valent Robotics has a widely publicized product launch on Monday, and they have a very large ball scheduled for the evening. The supplier they originally ordered their booze from botched the order, so Valent Robotics called Moby Dick for help. They needed 100cu of the finest wines and liquor delivered to Verasi before the morning.
"Of course this happens when I'm on the other side of the universe and the entire guild is MIA," Moby Dick said to no one in particular.
"Huh? Are you ready to eat yet?" the voice from the kitchen yelled.
"In a sec!"
Moby let out a big sigh. He couldn't believe what he was going to have to do. Moby Dick opened a comm channel to the only available guild member close to Dau.
"Goo evenin Mobeee. LeberMac at your slervice."
Moby paused for a moment, knowing full well that Lebermac was drunk. "Leber, I need you to do me a favor. I need you to fly a moth from Dau to Verasi. Can you handle that?"
LeberMac, attempting to sound sober, replied lightheartedly, "Dau to Rhamus? Oh sure, that won't be a problem. I've been working on my Serco standing!"
"No, Leber! Dau to Verasi! It's only two jumps, and the moth is ready to go. I already contacted my deckhands, and they've loaded the cargo. You'll be going to Verasi Central, E-14. An official with Valent Robotics will be expecting you. You take care of this for me, I'll pay you 200,000 credits and a case of whatever kind of tequila you want."
"You got it! LeberMac out." LeberMac heard "tequila" and immediately got under way.
Moby Dick logged off of the terminal and joined his sister, brother-in-law, and nephew in their dining room for dinner, although he wasn't hungry anymore. Moby was both relieved and worried - relieved that LeberMac didn't ask about the cargo he was hauling and worried that his very reputable beverage distribution business was in the hands of the universe's most notorious drunk.
Doofa Magoobie sat hunched over a small badly lit table in his TGFT pilots bunk room.He sat, sweat dripping off the vacuum scarred flesh that had once been eyebrows, with his tongue protruding slightly from his lips. This is a picture of absolute concentration.
Fiddling with a small fusion cutter and an even smaller circuit, he oh, so, slowly bought the white hot tip of the fusion cutter towards his intended target as a TGFT Beanie wearing man staggered against his door with a loud BANG, causing Doofa to jerk and hurl the fusion cutter and circuit across the room. "Sorry" mumbled the man and lurched out of the doorway in the direction of the docking bay.
Biting down a string of profanity, Doofa gathered his thrown project and returned to his task. 25 minutes later he painstakingly reassembled the device and fitted it to his head, with a small prayer, he switched it on.
"Yes" he shouted, "they said it couldn't be done!".
Doofa ran towards the pilots mess, proudly sporting his contra-rotating TGFT Beanie.
Fiddling with a small fusion cutter and an even smaller circuit, he oh, so, slowly bought the white hot tip of the fusion cutter towards his intended target as a TGFT Beanie wearing man staggered against his door with a loud BANG, causing Doofa to jerk and hurl the fusion cutter and circuit across the room. "Sorry" mumbled the man and lurched out of the doorway in the direction of the docking bay.
Biting down a string of profanity, Doofa gathered his thrown project and returned to his task. 25 minutes later he painstakingly reassembled the device and fitted it to his head, with a small prayer, he switched it on.
"Yes" he shouted, "they said it couldn't be done!".
Doofa ran towards the pilots mess, proudly sporting his contra-rotating TGFT Beanie.
"... moth is ready to go. I already contacted my deckhands, and they've loaded the cargo... Verasi Central, E-14. An official with... expecting you. ...take care of this for me, I'll pay you 200,000... cases of whatever kind of tequila you want."
Yes! Finally some recognition! He was sure to make it into the guild at this point, and with Moby's generous offer, well MAN! That amount of liquor would last him at LEAST a year.
He stumbled down to the docks in Dau K-10, TPG HQ, and accosted the docks manager, "Hey where's Moby's order? Itsh better be in my hold in 5 minutes or I'm gonna do some live docking practice runs, mister! *hic*"
The dockmaster, no fool, realized that after the last time LeberMac had tried to dock something as large as a Behemoth, he'd had to complete a week's worth of repairs to the outer hull and upgrade the station's shielding. He turned to the cargo technician: "Bring me Moby's cargo from skid GG-24, STAT. Let's get this guy outta here NOW." He then addressed LeberMac:
"You're next in line, Trader. You may commence startup procedure."
"Damn straight I am!" *hic*... LeberMac tipsily climbed into the trading Behemoth without bumping into anything important and launched immediately, injuring several of the dockhands, who had not yet loaded Moby Dick's shipment into the Behemoth.
"Oops." LeberMac remembered his cargo. "Damn, this trading stuff is HARD!", he swiveled the Behemoth back around and made for the docks.
Red alerts sounded throughout the station as the specialized "LeberMac Docking Emergency Procedure" klaxons blared. Dockworkers dove into their new armored protection bays and activated the inertial dampeners in order to help guide LeberMac in. Women and children were sent to the far side of the station, and the medical authorities were scrambled to "priority" status.
LeberMac's dark green [TGFT] Behemoth plowed into the station at an awkward angle and gouged a substantial hole in the docking floor, skidded to the back of the bay with a shower of sparks and crushed the IBG centurion that was parked in Moby's stall like an egg.
"Hey guys, you'll never *hic* believe thesh!" LeberMac laughed. "I fergott the cargo! Ha hah aahahaa1! It's ok, you go load it now, alright? Kay..."
The dockworkers donned armored gear and breathing apparatus, then quickly loaded the behemoth with the cargo, finishing in record time. The heavy lift crane raised the Behemoth off of the poor Centurion, pointed LeberMac's ship towards the exit, and the all-clear klaxon sounded.
"LeberMac, you are cleared for Launch." Strange, thought the flight controller, Leber had never waited for clearance before...
"Attention, [TGFT] Pilot LeberMac, you are now cleared for launch, acknowledge."
He was greeted with silence.
"Oh for Eo's sake he's passed out. Someone go wake him up!" The flight controller motioned to the dockmaster, who picked up a hydrospanner and proceeded to relish banging heavily on LeberMac's Behemoth vismetal canopy.
LeberMac woke up from the noise, saw the dockmaster waving at him with some kind of implement, then accidentally hit the "Launch" button.
The Behemoth burst out of the dock, sending the dockmaster tumbling into space, swearing loudly over open comm channels, saved only by his spacesuit. LeberMac laughed a drunken laugh and promptly passed out again in the Behemoth's captain's chair, hitting the "Broadcast to All" button with his face.
Over open comm channels, his Ship's computer faithfully broacasted his position and time to target while under the autopilot's control. "Departing Dau for Verasi E-14." The destination updates as well as Leber's snoring were the evening's entertainment for most of the pilots in the galaxy, including some who began to converge on his position.
The Behemoth lazily tumbled into Verasi E-14 and Sembei, a sexy female VPR pilot, was waiting for him. Sembei watched as the Behemoth sped towards the dock at over 65 m/s. The Verasi dockworkers, alerted to the approach of LeberMac by their bretheren in Dau, had prepared a full medical alert and station emergency lockdown.
With a bone-shattering CLANG, the Behemoth careened into the station's structural supports, deforming metal and plasteel. The ringing woke LeberMac from his slumber.
"Wow, that was fast!" LeberMac groggily steadied himself, wiped the drool from his chin, realized that he was broadcasting and cut the transmission.
"Nice attempt at docking, need me to stay on your wing and guide you in?" Sembei asked.
"Cripes! A [VPR] Patrol!" LeberMac panicked at the thought of getting another PUI report on his record, and hurriedly mashed buttons in a vain attempt to escape. He launched two proximity mines, which exploded in Sembei's face and again propelled LeberMac's bulky Behemoth into the station bulkhead, creating a large dent and damaging solar panels. Strike Force Vultures boosted from the dock, only too eager to send this drunken fool to the Void.
The Behemoth rebounded nicely from the station and began to take hits of green neutron fire as it accelerated to the jump point. Sembei laughed as the smoking heap of the Behemoth amazingly made it to the safe jump distance and warped away to an empty sector.
"LeberMac, now I think they'll REQUIRE me to escort you in or you'll never see the inside of that station. I'm not going to arrest you, let's just take this nice and easy..."
"Um... OK." LeberMac was wary. These [VPR] pilots could be sneaky...
Sembei pulled up alongside LeberMac, and the Viper's Vulture and LeberMac' smoking Behemoth slowly coasted into the dock at 5 m/s, bumping gently against the dock walls before wobbling to a stop. The Verasi dock crowds cheered a successful LeberMac docking without substantial property damage or medical expenses.
The goods were offloaded from LeberMac's behemoth, and the Verasi customs officer asked for a delivery destination. He paused, expecting a reply from LeberMac.
"Hm. Yeah... destination. Uhh... I was told to leave it here in the dock and someone would pick it up?"
"Parcel pick-up then?" the customs officer added, trying to speed LeberMac's thought process along. "Who shall I say is to sign for it?"
LeberMac thought hard, trying to remember his orders, since he had lost the delivery slip in all the excitement of docking. "Verasi Official?" he finally blurted out, as if giving a questionable answer in math class.
"Very good sir, We will hold it for Mr. Verasi Official. Now, if there's nothing else?" the customs officer motioned LeberMac back towards his ship.
LeberMac walked slowly back to his ship in the bay, where dockworkers were collecting their winnings from bets taken on LeberMac's ability to pilot the heavy ship into the dock. The odds had been high against him, and those who had bet on his success were now earning a pretty payday. Sembei, who had wisely docked at the opposite bay, watched LeberMac stagger around from the docking bay observatory.
"Was I supposed to take something TO Verasi, or pickup FROM Verasi?" LeberMac wondered as he walked and bumbled amongst the crates. The action, the proxmine explosion, and the tequila blurred his memory so badly that he wasn't sure anymore whether he was supposed to pick up or drop off from Verasi E-14. Over the course of the next 5 minutes, lost in thought, he meandered to the dockmaster and asked about a delivery to TPG headquarters in Dau.
The dockmaster saw him and instinctively activated his personal shield unit and looked around for impending disaster. "Oh! LeberMac, it's you. Yes... Erm..." He composed himself and asked, "What can I do for you?"
"Am I supposed to be delivering something to Dau under the care of Moby Dick?" LeberMac asked. "I was told I would meet a Verasi Official..."
"Well, I dunno, there 'Mac." The dockmaster said. "Lemme check." The Verasi dock was busy that day, with many shipments being delivered for a rather large celebration of some type. "Oh, yes! Well you're in luck! Looks like your cargo JUST cleared customs and is ready for delivery. I'll sign for it, since I guess I'm a Verasi Official, eh? Hrm, looks like some dope reversed the TO and FROM fields in the database, but I'll fix those right away!" He was eager to get LeberMac the hell out of his docking bay, and expedited the order.
LeberMac walked towards his ship, the dents being pounded out of it and major repairs almost complete from the Strike Force's neutron blasters. He watched the busy crowd of dockworkers load the somewhat familiar beaten-up, scratched, and leaking crates of alcohol into his ship, and close the door on the massive transport.
LeberMac climbed into the cockpit, and the flight officer cleared him for immediate departure, so great was their desire to be rid of his accident-prone presence on the docking bay. "You're cleared for launch, LeberMac. Good luck reaching your destination." Sembei made her way to the opposite dock, and silently launched her Patrol Vulture.
"Um... thanks!... *hic* LeberMac punched the "Launch" Button and he once again sped into the inky blackness. The autopilot took over, and as he wiled away the time poking around his cargo and taking a sample of the liquor here and there, he couldn't help feeling like something was wrong. He was followed the entire distance by the wary [VPR] pilot.
"Ah well, Moby'll be proud 'a me when he sees this delivery!" He exclaimed as he finished off the last of his travel tequila bottles and pointed the nose of the Behemoth at the rapidly-approaching dock of TPG Headquarters. LeberMac had long ago learned that tequila made most of his worries go away, along with those incessant voices from the old Neural Spike wound, so he quickly forgot about the nagging feeling he'd seen these crates before. The usual warning klaxons and emergency teams were by now assembled and the station had entered lockdown mode, as prepared as posssible for a LeberMac Behemoth docking, which now qualified throughout UIT space as a DEFCON level 2 alert status.
Misjudging his entrance by scant inches, the Behemoth caught the side of the docking bay and did a head-over-heels flip into the docking bay, landing heavily upside down on a custom pink Wraith. Artificial gravity activated, and LeberMac could hear the mighty CRASH of his cargo "falling" from the floor of his docking bay to the ceiling. The tinkle of broken glass echoed throughout the docking bay from his upside-down transport vessel, which rocked back and forth unsteadily.
Sembei watched the magnificent Behemoth execute its flip from outside the dock in the safety of her vulture, shook her head in disdain, and headed for patrol duty in Latos, leaving the scene behind as quickly as possible.
LeberMac awkwardly climbed out of his inverted cockpit, and received an immediate tongue-lashing from the dockmaster, who apparently was more worried about the crushed pink wraith than the damaged cargo in Lebermac's hold.
"That's IT! I don't care if you ARE a [TGFT] member, you're BANNED from this station, mister! Do you hear! Baaaaned!" the dockmaster screamed at LeberMac in a fit of frustrated rage, restrained only by his subordinates.
LeberMac apologized profusely to everyone present, in his drunken state, backing away from the conflict. He scrawled a note to the owner of the pink Wraith and tucked it under the smashed access hatch, and retreated to his temporary [TGFT] bunk, worried about the vague threats from the dockmaster, but beaming with accomplishment with the thought of his first [TGFT] delivery under his belt, for the guild's new COMMANDER no less. That deserved a drink! He fell back asleep happy, having fulfilled his mission. He dreamed about the 200,000 cases of tequila that Moby had promised him.
Meanwhile, the battered and broken crates of alcohol were extracted from the wreck, cracked and dripping with spilled liquid, and deposited back in the exact same place they had been 6 hours before. Cargo Skid GG-24.
Yes! Finally some recognition! He was sure to make it into the guild at this point, and with Moby's generous offer, well MAN! That amount of liquor would last him at LEAST a year.
He stumbled down to the docks in Dau K-10, TPG HQ, and accosted the docks manager, "Hey where's Moby's order? Itsh better be in my hold in 5 minutes or I'm gonna do some live docking practice runs, mister! *hic*"
The dockmaster, no fool, realized that after the last time LeberMac had tried to dock something as large as a Behemoth, he'd had to complete a week's worth of repairs to the outer hull and upgrade the station's shielding. He turned to the cargo technician: "Bring me Moby's cargo from skid GG-24, STAT. Let's get this guy outta here NOW." He then addressed LeberMac:
"You're next in line, Trader. You may commence startup procedure."
"Damn straight I am!" *hic*... LeberMac tipsily climbed into the trading Behemoth without bumping into anything important and launched immediately, injuring several of the dockhands, who had not yet loaded Moby Dick's shipment into the Behemoth.
"Oops." LeberMac remembered his cargo. "Damn, this trading stuff is HARD!", he swiveled the Behemoth back around and made for the docks.
Red alerts sounded throughout the station as the specialized "LeberMac Docking Emergency Procedure" klaxons blared. Dockworkers dove into their new armored protection bays and activated the inertial dampeners in order to help guide LeberMac in. Women and children were sent to the far side of the station, and the medical authorities were scrambled to "priority" status.
LeberMac's dark green [TGFT] Behemoth plowed into the station at an awkward angle and gouged a substantial hole in the docking floor, skidded to the back of the bay with a shower of sparks and crushed the IBG centurion that was parked in Moby's stall like an egg.
"Hey guys, you'll never *hic* believe thesh!" LeberMac laughed. "I fergott the cargo! Ha hah aahahaa1! It's ok, you go load it now, alright? Kay..."
The dockworkers donned armored gear and breathing apparatus, then quickly loaded the behemoth with the cargo, finishing in record time. The heavy lift crane raised the Behemoth off of the poor Centurion, pointed LeberMac's ship towards the exit, and the all-clear klaxon sounded.
"LeberMac, you are cleared for Launch." Strange, thought the flight controller, Leber had never waited for clearance before...
"Attention, [TGFT] Pilot LeberMac, you are now cleared for launch, acknowledge."
He was greeted with silence.
"Oh for Eo's sake he's passed out. Someone go wake him up!" The flight controller motioned to the dockmaster, who picked up a hydrospanner and proceeded to relish banging heavily on LeberMac's Behemoth vismetal canopy.
LeberMac woke up from the noise, saw the dockmaster waving at him with some kind of implement, then accidentally hit the "Launch" button.
The Behemoth burst out of the dock, sending the dockmaster tumbling into space, swearing loudly over open comm channels, saved only by his spacesuit. LeberMac laughed a drunken laugh and promptly passed out again in the Behemoth's captain's chair, hitting the "Broadcast to All" button with his face.
Over open comm channels, his Ship's computer faithfully broacasted his position and time to target while under the autopilot's control. "Departing Dau for Verasi E-14." The destination updates as well as Leber's snoring were the evening's entertainment for most of the pilots in the galaxy, including some who began to converge on his position.
The Behemoth lazily tumbled into Verasi E-14 and Sembei, a sexy female VPR pilot, was waiting for him. Sembei watched as the Behemoth sped towards the dock at over 65 m/s. The Verasi dockworkers, alerted to the approach of LeberMac by their bretheren in Dau, had prepared a full medical alert and station emergency lockdown.
With a bone-shattering CLANG, the Behemoth careened into the station's structural supports, deforming metal and plasteel. The ringing woke LeberMac from his slumber.
"Wow, that was fast!" LeberMac groggily steadied himself, wiped the drool from his chin, realized that he was broadcasting and cut the transmission.
"Nice attempt at docking, need me to stay on your wing and guide you in?" Sembei asked.
"Cripes! A [VPR] Patrol!" LeberMac panicked at the thought of getting another PUI report on his record, and hurriedly mashed buttons in a vain attempt to escape. He launched two proximity mines, which exploded in Sembei's face and again propelled LeberMac's bulky Behemoth into the station bulkhead, creating a large dent and damaging solar panels. Strike Force Vultures boosted from the dock, only too eager to send this drunken fool to the Void.
The Behemoth rebounded nicely from the station and began to take hits of green neutron fire as it accelerated to the jump point. Sembei laughed as the smoking heap of the Behemoth amazingly made it to the safe jump distance and warped away to an empty sector.
"LeberMac, now I think they'll REQUIRE me to escort you in or you'll never see the inside of that station. I'm not going to arrest you, let's just take this nice and easy..."
"Um... OK." LeberMac was wary. These [VPR] pilots could be sneaky...
Sembei pulled up alongside LeberMac, and the Viper's Vulture and LeberMac' smoking Behemoth slowly coasted into the dock at 5 m/s, bumping gently against the dock walls before wobbling to a stop. The Verasi dock crowds cheered a successful LeberMac docking without substantial property damage or medical expenses.
The goods were offloaded from LeberMac's behemoth, and the Verasi customs officer asked for a delivery destination. He paused, expecting a reply from LeberMac.
"Hm. Yeah... destination. Uhh... I was told to leave it here in the dock and someone would pick it up?"
"Parcel pick-up then?" the customs officer added, trying to speed LeberMac's thought process along. "Who shall I say is to sign for it?"
LeberMac thought hard, trying to remember his orders, since he had lost the delivery slip in all the excitement of docking. "Verasi Official?" he finally blurted out, as if giving a questionable answer in math class.
"Very good sir, We will hold it for Mr. Verasi Official. Now, if there's nothing else?" the customs officer motioned LeberMac back towards his ship.
LeberMac walked slowly back to his ship in the bay, where dockworkers were collecting their winnings from bets taken on LeberMac's ability to pilot the heavy ship into the dock. The odds had been high against him, and those who had bet on his success were now earning a pretty payday. Sembei, who had wisely docked at the opposite bay, watched LeberMac stagger around from the docking bay observatory.
"Was I supposed to take something TO Verasi, or pickup FROM Verasi?" LeberMac wondered as he walked and bumbled amongst the crates. The action, the proxmine explosion, and the tequila blurred his memory so badly that he wasn't sure anymore whether he was supposed to pick up or drop off from Verasi E-14. Over the course of the next 5 minutes, lost in thought, he meandered to the dockmaster and asked about a delivery to TPG headquarters in Dau.
The dockmaster saw him and instinctively activated his personal shield unit and looked around for impending disaster. "Oh! LeberMac, it's you. Yes... Erm..." He composed himself and asked, "What can I do for you?"
"Am I supposed to be delivering something to Dau under the care of Moby Dick?" LeberMac asked. "I was told I would meet a Verasi Official..."
"Well, I dunno, there 'Mac." The dockmaster said. "Lemme check." The Verasi dock was busy that day, with many shipments being delivered for a rather large celebration of some type. "Oh, yes! Well you're in luck! Looks like your cargo JUST cleared customs and is ready for delivery. I'll sign for it, since I guess I'm a Verasi Official, eh? Hrm, looks like some dope reversed the TO and FROM fields in the database, but I'll fix those right away!" He was eager to get LeberMac the hell out of his docking bay, and expedited the order.
LeberMac walked towards his ship, the dents being pounded out of it and major repairs almost complete from the Strike Force's neutron blasters. He watched the busy crowd of dockworkers load the somewhat familiar beaten-up, scratched, and leaking crates of alcohol into his ship, and close the door on the massive transport.
LeberMac climbed into the cockpit, and the flight officer cleared him for immediate departure, so great was their desire to be rid of his accident-prone presence on the docking bay. "You're cleared for launch, LeberMac. Good luck reaching your destination." Sembei made her way to the opposite dock, and silently launched her Patrol Vulture.
"Um... thanks!... *hic* LeberMac punched the "Launch" Button and he once again sped into the inky blackness. The autopilot took over, and as he wiled away the time poking around his cargo and taking a sample of the liquor here and there, he couldn't help feeling like something was wrong. He was followed the entire distance by the wary [VPR] pilot.
"Ah well, Moby'll be proud 'a me when he sees this delivery!" He exclaimed as he finished off the last of his travel tequila bottles and pointed the nose of the Behemoth at the rapidly-approaching dock of TPG Headquarters. LeberMac had long ago learned that tequila made most of his worries go away, along with those incessant voices from the old Neural Spike wound, so he quickly forgot about the nagging feeling he'd seen these crates before. The usual warning klaxons and emergency teams were by now assembled and the station had entered lockdown mode, as prepared as posssible for a LeberMac Behemoth docking, which now qualified throughout UIT space as a DEFCON level 2 alert status.
Misjudging his entrance by scant inches, the Behemoth caught the side of the docking bay and did a head-over-heels flip into the docking bay, landing heavily upside down on a custom pink Wraith. Artificial gravity activated, and LeberMac could hear the mighty CRASH of his cargo "falling" from the floor of his docking bay to the ceiling. The tinkle of broken glass echoed throughout the docking bay from his upside-down transport vessel, which rocked back and forth unsteadily.
Sembei watched the magnificent Behemoth execute its flip from outside the dock in the safety of her vulture, shook her head in disdain, and headed for patrol duty in Latos, leaving the scene behind as quickly as possible.
LeberMac awkwardly climbed out of his inverted cockpit, and received an immediate tongue-lashing from the dockmaster, who apparently was more worried about the crushed pink wraith than the damaged cargo in Lebermac's hold.
"That's IT! I don't care if you ARE a [TGFT] member, you're BANNED from this station, mister! Do you hear! Baaaaned!" the dockmaster screamed at LeberMac in a fit of frustrated rage, restrained only by his subordinates.
LeberMac apologized profusely to everyone present, in his drunken state, backing away from the conflict. He scrawled a note to the owner of the pink Wraith and tucked it under the smashed access hatch, and retreated to his temporary [TGFT] bunk, worried about the vague threats from the dockmaster, but beaming with accomplishment with the thought of his first [TGFT] delivery under his belt, for the guild's new COMMANDER no less. That deserved a drink! He fell back asleep happy, having fulfilled his mission. He dreamed about the 200,000 cases of tequila that Moby had promised him.
Meanwhile, the battered and broken crates of alcohol were extracted from the wreck, cracked and dripping with spilled liquid, and deposited back in the exact same place they had been 6 hours before. Cargo Skid GG-24.
perhaps form now on leebs shoudl just jettison the cargo outside the station and let sombody else take it in
Moby Dick's Monday started with him finding out that LeberMac didn't complete the cargo delivery he requested. He had to fly from Pherona to Dau without saying goodbye to his family. After putting together a nearly identical booze order, Moby Dick made the delivery in Verasi just in time. He creditted his customer 10% of the purchase price towards a future purchase for the inconvenience of such a late delivery.
Upon returning to TGFT headquarters, he found he had nearly 100cu of broken wine and liquor bottles, a totalled IBG, and a dockmaster who was ready to kill LeberMac. Only after Moby Dick agreed to pay for Leber's damages and promised that LeberMac would never dock with anything larger than a Wraith did the dockmaster lift his ban on LeberMac.
Another 2 hours were spent cleaning his cargo area and attempting to inventory the destroyed merchandise. It wasn't until the evening did Moby Dick make it to his office to attend to guild business. Luckily, it was late enough in the day that everyone was gone. After doing some paperwork, Moby went to his condo in the residential area of the station and collapsed on the bed without undressing.
Moby thought to himself before drifting to sleep, “I hope the rest of the week is calmer than today ...”
Upon returning to TGFT headquarters, he found he had nearly 100cu of broken wine and liquor bottles, a totalled IBG, and a dockmaster who was ready to kill LeberMac. Only after Moby Dick agreed to pay for Leber's damages and promised that LeberMac would never dock with anything larger than a Wraith did the dockmaster lift his ban on LeberMac.
Another 2 hours were spent cleaning his cargo area and attempting to inventory the destroyed merchandise. It wasn't until the evening did Moby Dick make it to his office to attend to guild business. Luckily, it was late enough in the day that everyone was gone. After doing some paperwork, Moby went to his condo in the residential area of the station and collapsed on the bed without undressing.
Moby thought to himself before drifting to sleep, “I hope the rest of the week is calmer than today ...”
Broma-ba Slick had a theory. If he tapped softly enough on the Commander's door, the Commander couldn't hear him. If the Commander couldn't hear him, there could be no meeting. And if there were no meeting, he wouldn't have to answer the question he'd been dreading ever since the new Commander had been elected.
As Broma prepared to test his theory, he heard the patient, but insistent, voice of Commander Moby Dick: "Come in Broma. You're late." Damn. He really should have stayed awake in theory class.
As Broma entered the Commander's office, his fellow lieutenant Screwball caught his eye, then quickly looked away. Moby was quiet for a moment, sizing up his two lieutenants. "Well gentlemen," he finally said. "Why don't you tell me where Gaird is and how long you two have been covering for him?"
It was the question he had dreaded. He wanted to answer. He liked the new Commander. He admired the new Commander. But the new Commander was Itani. And the question was, could he trust him?
As Broma prepared to test his theory, he heard the patient, but insistent, voice of Commander Moby Dick: "Come in Broma. You're late." Damn. He really should have stayed awake in theory class.
As Broma entered the Commander's office, his fellow lieutenant Screwball caught his eye, then quickly looked away. Moby was quiet for a moment, sizing up his two lieutenants. "Well gentlemen," he finally said. "Why don't you tell me where Gaird is and how long you two have been covering for him?"
It was the question he had dreaded. He wanted to answer. He liked the new Commander. He admired the new Commander. But the new Commander was Itani. And the question was, could he trust him?
oooooooooooooooooh moby dick got pwnd!!
ooc: LOL and LOL more.. more
Broma-ba Slick hated little things. Little things had an irritating way of bouncing around and congealing with other little things. Until they became a big, nasty thing. Broma hated them even more.
Little things. Like TGFT history. When first founded, TGFT had supported the Itani in the war. Then, without explanation, it had shifted to a neutral stance and welcomed Serco members. Broma had never been able to discover the reason.
Little things. Like the Founder's vague but insistent warnings to be careful of the Itani guilds.
Little things: Like his clandestine meeting with Dr. Lecter. Most of Lecter's Chianti fueled rantings had been about the Void. But they were stitched together with insinuations of Itani infiltrators and a plot against Commander Gaird. "Trust only LeberMac," the maniac raved. "He's not as think as you drunk he is."
Little things: Like a meeting with the Itani Alliance leadership during the height of the neural spike crisis. Then lieutenant Smittens had hinted of spies in TGFT, but warned that it would be best to do nothing about them.
And then, the big, nasty thing. The day the distress call came in from Gaird's ship.
Little things. Like TGFT history. When first founded, TGFT had supported the Itani in the war. Then, without explanation, it had shifted to a neutral stance and welcomed Serco members. Broma had never been able to discover the reason.
Little things. Like the Founder's vague but insistent warnings to be careful of the Itani guilds.
Little things: Like his clandestine meeting with Dr. Lecter. Most of Lecter's Chianti fueled rantings had been about the Void. But they were stitched together with insinuations of Itani infiltrators and a plot against Commander Gaird. "Trust only LeberMac," the maniac raved. "He's not as think as you drunk he is."
Little things: Like a meeting with the Itani Alliance leadership during the height of the neural spike crisis. Then lieutenant Smittens had hinted of spies in TGFT, but warned that it would be best to do nothing about them.
And then, the big, nasty thing. The day the distress call came in from Gaird's ship.