Elite roleplay: The docks

THE DOCKS (Dockyards)

The Docks is where all pilots berth their ships. It is the first place that pilots find themselves upon landing their ship. Docking and launching is controlled by the Citi Gateway’s Traffic Controllers while each individual dock is controlled by a dockmaster and a team of orange clad dock crew workers.

The Docks is a sparse and desolate, 0.1G environment, littered with service vehicles, cranes and landing pads. While cool, the air is dry and lightly filled with the smell of burnt metal and ship grease. Public Service Announcements blare across the the docks reminding all pilots of station regulations. The docks contain 45 individual ship docks, several warehouses storing massive tank of hydrogen fuel, and standard shipping containers of cargo, the dock’s traffic control tower and the local pilot’s market which resides in one of the warehouses.

Ship docks
Each specific dock has a landing pad, a ship hangar and adjoining terminal. In each terminal there is a passenger waiting area, the dockmaster’s control tower and several dock crew vehicle bay.

Warehouses
If the docks were already unpopulated, warehouses would be completely vacant of anyone if not for a small handful of security staff. Warehouses are completely automated and highly guarded facilities as they contain massive amounts of valuable and flammable material.
"Loitering is a crime punishable by death" - Station Announcements

Pilot's Market
The pilot’s market is best described as a tourist trap for pilots. Every person who’s not a pilot is trying to guile a pilot to part with their credits.

"The station administrators would like to remind all pilots that transactions in the pilot’s market are not protected by Citi Gateway or The Bank of Zaonce" - station announcements

General Roleplay Etiquette:

1. Control only the actions of your own character(s). (AKA: God Mode)
This doesn't matter how small the action is, even if it is as simple as scratching their nose or a direct reaction to something else that just happened. This applies to everything from casual conversation to full blown fight scenes. If you'd like someone to do something specific, PM that person, however keep in mind they are completely within their rights to say no. Especially if said action is inappropriate to their character and/or circumstance.

2. Don't brute force your way into another persons RP.
Approaching with a conversation starter is fine, or indeed some other small action. However charging in, guns blazing and disrupting the flow of another person/pair/groups conversation/arc is about as rude as doing so in real life. If something is going on that you'd like to participate in, be subtle about it. Put out a gentle hook for someone to take, but again, be aware that said hook may not be taken. If you fear it was simply unnoticed, PM the person or people it concerns. Or even leave a message in the OOC forums.

3. Good grammar and spelling is preferred.
We're not asking you to be perfect, but please at least demonstrate willingness. no1 iz gna tak u srsly usng txt spk. There's a wide variety of people here, many who speak English as a second, or even third language. There are even some with varying degrees of dyslexia and/or likely other issues that affect spelling/grammar. We accept them all here. However, people who aren't accepted, are those unwilling to accept polite correction. Remember that even a small thing like the placement of a comma, or the wrong use of there/their/they're can completely change the definition of an entire sentence.

4. Accept constructive criticism gracefully and politely.
If someone spots an issue with your writings, they may wish to help you improve that writing. They may do this through PM or even publicly air their thoughts on the OOC forum. If they have taken the time to be polite and explain what is wrong with your writing, the best way to behave is to respond in kind, using the same manner they have approached you with. It means they have taken an active interest in what you have written and wish to see more. Basically, you have a fan!

5. Don't take the actions or opinions of things done IN RP, to be directly relevant to the writers thoughts or opinions.
Basically, if some ones character calls your character a jackass, it doesn't mean the writer thinks you are a jackass. It's a ROLE they are PLAYING. Watch a movie. The argument between the characters isn't an argument between the actors involved. The same applies here.

6. It's not a popularity contest.
Your RP might be bustling with participants. You have 3 people off station in a fire fight, while another 2 are infiltrating the darkest areas of the station, meanwhile a group of 4 others are tracking your movements in an effort to stop you. Good for you, I'm sure it will be a thrilling read! But you know what? Sometimes the absolute BEST work, comes from two RP characters having a simple heart to heart. Both are valid, both are great, but NEITHER is categorically better than the other. Period.


Inara RP Etiquette:

1. Respect the setting and rules of the universe.
Inara is an Elite: Dangerous 3rd Party Tool. The RP Forums are set in the Elite: Dangerous universe. Elite: Dangerous has rules, as any fictional universe does from Lord of the Rings to Star Wars, or Game of Thrones to Star Trek. If you intend to RP within the Elite: Dangerous universe you are bound by the history and rules of that universe. Simply put, this RP forum is bound by the same rules as the game, so if it can't be done in the game, it is not permitted here. This applies to things from a 50Ly Jump Range on a normal, unmodified Sidewinder, to the destruction of entire stations.

2. Respect the characters created by others.
We have a wide variety of characters already here. It's expected that some will be similar, just as it's expected that two characters will be vastly different. Opinions of each persons character will naturally be varied, but all are valid provided they follow the rules of the universe. You are allowed to interact with, or avoid interaction with, any character in the RP forums. But you have no right to belittle others for their creation. You are not an authority figure on writing, nor are you directly affected by another persons imagination. You might not like it, but you MUST respect it.

3. Be caught up on current events before joining in.
You need basic things like character descriptions in order to interact with them. You also need to know what's going on in the surrounding areas. This is simply because the people you are hoping to RP with, might be gearing up to something that you might not want to be part of. Or simply that the most recent post, out of context, could leave a different impression on the goings on than if you gather that context. We don't expect you to read every single post from the beginning of the forums, just enough to get that basic understanding.

4. Either subscribe to, or frequently check, the Roleplay: Q&A and OOC forum.
People may be discussing something relevant to you there, or even discussing you directly. Perhaps someone asked what the general consensus on the existence or non-existence of a certain object. Or we're just chatting about random gibberish. Either way, be aware of it and use it. If you're unsure about something, such as how guns would look and or behave, or even the music selection, use the OOC forum to ask. We don't have all of the answers, but the collective knowledge and logic usually allows us to overcome an issue and come to a decision on what should be allowed. Frontier Developments, and even David Braben himself, don't have the answers to every possible question that can be asked.

5. Large Scale events exploding out of nowhere are a complete no go.
We get it. Everyone wants their character to be noticed and for people to be tripping over themselves to interact with them. In some audiences, an introduction involving you blasting in for landing in a fiery wreckage of a ship, before cart wheeling out and sword fighting 35 Ninjas before whisking off with the local celebrity for a glorious night of passion, is in fact, cool. This is not one of those audiences. It is generally considered better to build your character up slowly over time. Eventually, you might even have a legitimate excuse to fight those Ninjas. Maybe even with other RP participants by your side.

6. Perfect characters are boring.
The point of a character arc, is that it is in fact, an arc shape. One who is morally unquestionable, fully kitted out and an infinite fountain of knowledge, cannot go through an arc. Give your character flaws. Be it a tendency towards befriending the wrong people, or a bad knee that frequently gives out at inopportune moments. It gives readers something to latch onto and empathise with. You can give your character exceptional capabilities at something, but it requires balance. She's a damn good pilot with no equal, but can't drive an SRV for peanuts. It can lead to some very interesting moments between characters, be it heartfelt or comedic.


Other Notes:
It should be noted that there can be exceptions to these points. For example, good grammar when a character is speaking is actually rare. Few people in real life actually speak with perfect eloquence after all. Or previously arranged actions during a fight scene, such as someone stumbling back after a punch. What's key to remember is context.

All in all, remember this is purely for fun. We have some seriously talented writers here, and others whose writing history starts and ends at high school. But many are willing to help out in whatever way they can. All it takes is that you ask nicely.

Also keep in mind that many people who RP here, also have logbook stories related to the character, or characters, they portray. If it looks like there's an "in joke" going on that you're unsure of, it's probably in those.

In fact, some users have even gone to the trouble of creating "alts" to RP with. If you read back far enough, it's usually pretty clear who has and hasn't, and which ones are the "alts". It's therefore not unheard of to see the apparent seizing of control of other characters. If you do spot one, point it out in the OOC section. If intervention is needed, it will be sorted quickly and (hopefully) politely.

Most, if not all RP participants here have Logbook stories pertaining to their character(s). These are for the reading pleasure of anyone who wishes to do so. While it can be useful to read them in order to gain a bit of backstory on a character you wish to interact with, it should not be assumed that your character shares that knowledge. Within the E:D Universe, these Logbooks either don't exist, or are private diaries kept by the characters. Either way, without explicit statements to say otherwise from the writer, your interactions should reflect that your character is in the dark about any information you, the writer/reader, have gained from reading the stories.
06 Jan 2016, 9:07pm
The pilots market was alive with people, all from different walks of life. merchants and swindlers, scanning the crowds for an easy mark, tourists, splashing out credits on useless tacky knick-knacks,  and station security, trying their best to look like they were keeping some semblance of order despite the throngs of people.

Fringe moved deliberately through the crowd in between haulers stocking up on energy supplements, and kids pickpocketing careless sightseers.

The sooner he was out of this hive, the better.

He spotted the storefront he was looking for, a dingy outfitters for pilots off in one of the dirty side alleys of the main market. A blinking neon sign was splayed across the front and a blaring hologram spewed out an incomplete picture of the owners rat-like pockmarked smiling face.

One of us isn’t going to enjoy this visit he thought.

Somehow the interior of the store managed to be dirtier than the trash-covered street outside, Fringe was greeted upon entry, by shelves of junk, scrap and a stench of cheap beer and sweat.

The owner, who was behind a dented and rusted counter, looked up from the latest broken gizmo that he was polishing with spit and a dirty rag, and smiled, revealing an almost complete set of stained, cracked teeth.

“That hologram outside does you a lot of favours” said Fringe, with a humourless half-smile.

“HAHA, you joke friend! You joke!” laughed the merchant, a guttural hacking noise that sounded neither genuine nor healthy.

“What can Kabir do for you? You were here last time no? Bought Galv-tech mark four helmet, yes? A good deal!”

The merchant was doing his best to look friendly, and interested, but his eyes were flitting from shelf to shelf, apparently scanning for the next piece of crap he could foist off on his first returning customer for years.

Fringe offered a light smirk back; “A good deal, well… that depends on your point of view.”

The friendly warmth that had shone on the merchants face seconds before, disappeared in an instant. The merchant made a move for the back door at the same speed.

Fringe was faster.

He caught the merchant by the back of his neck, and hauled the unfortunate man over the counter and on to his back on the shop floor, placing a heavy boot on his chest.

He reached to his belt and unclipped his pistol lazily and pointed it at the merchants forehead, the man froze, and attempted to form a sentence, choosing to speak to the ominous, unfeeling barrel in front of him rather than the pilot.

“I I I I …I uhhhh….”

“Quiet.”

The merchant fell silent, pale and sweating, faced with the prospect of a very quick death.

“You’re going to take back this helmet” said Fringe calmly, almost conversationally, gesturing to the dull grey dome, clipped to his belt  “and you are going to fix, and replace, every component you stripped from it before you sold it to me. Before it nearly cost me my ship and my life.”

The merchants face descended from fear, to abject horror, he knew what was coming next.

Working for free.

Working for free under duress, no less! His insides burned at the very thought.

He reached up gingerly and moved the pistol away from his face, he wasn’t about to get taken for a ride, not easily anyway.

“Okay! Okay! Crazy man… 100 credits”

You would have missed the move if you blinked. In an instant, Fringe jammed the pistol under the merchants chin, and closed his free hand around his throat.

The pilot leaned in, unaffected by the stench wafting off the grounded merchant, his voice perfectly level, barely above a whisper.

“I’m going to get a drink. I will be back in two hours. The helmet will be fixed. It will be sitting on the counter when I get back. If it is not, I will find you.”

Fringe stepped off the man, and in one deft move, lifted him back onto his feet, dusted him off and clipped the pistol back to his belt.

He freed the helmet from its clasp, set it on the counter, and smiled.

“See you in two hours, friend.”


Last edit: 09 Jan 2016, 1:49pm
09 Jan 2016, 1:43pm

CMDR AreZee entered the well lit station with his space craft, using a docking computer of course, because he is always to busy to do such a minor task manually. He proceeded to his well lit landing pad at the dockyards with his white painted Anaconda, a special limited edition he got as premiere customer at a Faulcon DeLacy convention a few months ago. As he was leaving his ship, he looked quite pleased, despite the hard work he was doing this week. Mister Rob Zacharias was doing some meaningful charity work in the Cubeo system the last days and spent several millions out of his own pockets to help the poor and starving people at Weaver Vision.

AreZee:
"Ahh, yes ... what a good feeling to breathe some polluted space station air. I really missed that ... Maybe there's a module for that at the run-down markets at the Docks here." (he jokingly mumbled in his well shaved three-day beard as he was heading in the direction of the crowded place at the dockyards)

As he walking through the masses of busy traders, rough looking bounty hunters and several little groups of security forces around the market stands, he saw another CMDR haggling with a local merchant through the window of a rusty little shack.
Mr. Zacharias didn't catch much of the ongoing events inside, but it seemed like the typical "let's sell junk to uniformed rich spacefaring nobles" kind of deal he was more than used to see around places like that. Minding his own business he went in the direction of the local bar.


Last edit: 20 Jan 2016, 7:35am
10 Jan 2016, 6:29pm
"A little.. a bit more.. no no.. back a little... DAMMIT!"
A shower of sparks flew out from the ship.
CMDR DaveTheDecimator lost his landing gear in a firefight with an wanted Anaconda, and rushed to the nearby Docks.
"I swear, this ship is cursed or something."
Dave kicked the rudder pedals.
He sighed and pulled a lever and the cockpit swung open. Dave clambered down the steps and walked across the hangar, his boots clanging on the metal floor. He walked into the main lobby and was greeted by someone trying to stab the Feds with a plasma knife. They all had their laser rifles pointed at his head.
*Ding-dong* "The station administrators would like to remind all pilots that transactions in the pilot’s market are not protected by Citi Gateway or The Bank of Zaonce"
Dave laughed at this, as he regularly encountered CMDRs in Sideys who bought those supposed "ancient relics" but that were actually just bits of scrap metal stolen from the ship incinerator.

He had come to buy a better FSD to outfit his ship, as a lot of rat calls are farther than a kylie from Sol sometimes. He was also  secretly hoping that his friend, Harry,  would be back from Robigo but his hopes were too large; Harry, unbeknownst to Dave, had actually got stuck near a massive battle and was recuperating in a hospital after his canopy got smashed and he got on emergency oxygen. He was rushed to the nearest starport by the feds and only just survived.

"This is two-oh-three at platform four-three, ready to depart."
"Two-oh-three, permission to depart accepted, watch the Type-9 outside"
"Permission granted, and will watch for the Type-9, two-oh-three"
Dave fired up the engines and floated up into the middle. He had got his landing gear fixed and retracted them.
He edged the throttle forward and exited The Docks. He had passed the type-9 and charged his FSD.
Three; two; one; engage"
Dave was cruising at 25c when suddenly his ship shook violently.
Warning, interdiction of FSD energy stream detected
"Damn!" Dave shouted. He checked behind him. It was a fed.
He pulled back the throttle and dropped out of supercruise.
"Hello, officer, is there a problem?"
"We have reports of pirate activity and we are running security checks.
Scan detected
"Alright, two-oh-three, you're clear to proceed, thanks for you co-operation."
Dave fired up the engines and blasted off...


Last edit: 11 Jan 2016, 5:22pm
18 Jan 2016, 9:18pm
AreZee leaves the bar and heads towards the Docks. He moves back to his Anaconda at landing pad 09 and leans towards a wall nearby to wait for any passengers he can take to his destination Apurui. 

AreZee:
(mumbles to himself) "I'm curious if Ryan256 will show up. I hope this isn't one of these days where I'm to incautious and I shouldn't trust that guy...


Last edit: 19 Jan 2016, 7:51am
19 Jan 2016, 4:53am
CMDR Ryan makes his way over to where his Asp is parked on dock 34. As he arrives at the terminal his heart sinks into his gut. The ship is in nearly 1000 pieces! You wouldn't even know it was an Asp if the space frame wasn't still visible. There seems to still be a crew of about 8 guys working on it. It doesn't take long to spot the engineer in charge, the one he slipped the extra 10k credits to for a fast turn around.

Ryan:"What the hell is going on here?! I needed this ship back together and running quickly!"
Engineer:Yeah.... about that. I was not expecting to find the components or damage we did.
Ryan:What do you mean?
Engineer:Just what I said! Your power distributor cables aren't round anymore. Most of them are oval, some of them are flat. The power plant's radiation shielding is barely intact. You're lucky you don't glow in the dark. And don't get me started on those thrusters. Then to top it all off these are high end class 5A components we're talking about here! Not the typical lightweight D rated stuff. Now the 5A frameshift drive and power planet are not that uncommon. But a class 5A fuel scoop? Damn that's the first one I've seen of those. Sorry man but we just do not have the parts here to repair this thing. Now I know I told you I'd uh... take care of you (wink) so I've called in a favor from one of my buddies and gotten an order put in, but the T9 with your parts isn't going to be here for another two weeks.
Ryan:Two weeks?!?!
Engineer:(shrugs) Sorry buddy, it's the best I could do.

Ryan did not want to try and skulk around this station avoiding the authorities for the next two weeks. He gets back on the tram and a quick ride later he was there. Dock 09. Walking out of the terminal he wasn't surprised to see the Anaconda. He was a little surprised to see it painted white. He glanced across the pad and saw AreZee leaning against the wall.

Ryan:So when do we leave?


Last edit: 19 Jan 2016, 5:23am
19 Jan 2016, 9:14am
AreZee:
(impressed) "Well, well ... I didn't think you would come. We barely know each other, but I think we'll have plenty of time on our journey to Apurui to change that. (AreZee leads to his ship) I guess I forgot to tell you that my Anaconda doesn't have an A-rated Class 6 Frame Shift Drive equipped. So let's not waste more time here.

AreZee and Ryan256 proceed to the huge white ship at landing pad 09. Several minutes later the Anaconda takes off and descends into the void.


Last edit: 19 Jan 2016, 1:51pm
23 Jan 2016, 3:50am
CMDR T.Legend heads out from the bar, his signature bright blue longcoat, seems to float behind him in the low g environment; he approaches dock 36, currently occupied by his ASP, the Outlaw star II, nicknamed the bucket by the deck crew, the ship had so many refurbished and replacement parts on aboard that aside from a few cables and panels here and there, it was technically a different ship.
The Deck crew scurried about the vessel, welding here, bolting there, Legend walks swiftly up the cargo ramp and inside, making his way to the cockpit and taking a seat;
T.Legend
"Angel, please run diagnostic programs 18, 24, 66

A loud buzzing sound came from behind him, he looked around to see a holographic woman of his age, her hair ran down to her heels, she wore a plain pilot suite ands was entirely transparent blue from head to toe
Angel
Running Diagnostic...complete, results on screen, welcome home commander
T.Legend smiled before turning back to the control console and reading the report


Last edit: 23 Jan 2016, 3:59am
28 Jan 2016, 8:05am
"Docking request granted, commander. Please obey all starport protocols during your visit." The sheer monotony of the docking agent's reply was grating to Daynen's ears.

"Hard to sound more scripted than that. Sounds like she needs a date or something," he mused, making sure to flick off the comm channel first. The bright blue docking window beckoned from nearly 10 clicks away and he was in no mood to stay in his pilot's chair a moment longer than he had to. He'd been out in the lanes for over a week. He had bounty claims to redeem, scan data to sell, a cracked canopy to repair and one monstrous backache from all the sitting. Firing lateral thrusters to line up with the docking slot, he smirked to himself as he tapped his afterburners; his Cobra lunged forward at a vicious 420 meters a second, drawing an almost instant response from the nearby sec-ships.

"Pilot! Decelerate immediately or you will be fired upon!" The officers' warnings blared over the comms, layering on top of each other in a cacophony of urgency that only made Daynen chuckle to himself.

"Alright, alright, settle down, fellas," he joked to himself, pulling back on the throttle to kill the inertia; the burst of speed left him within beam range before he dropped down to a copacetic 99M/s--just slow enough to dismiss the 'speeding' alert from the corner of his eye. The sound of nearby hardpoints retracting told him what he needed to know: security was jumpy around here.

Watching a fellow nearby Cobra scrape its landing made him cringe as he closed in on his reserved pad and flipped his own gear out, shaking his head. "Oof...What're they teachin' rookies these days..."

One feather light landing later, the canopy was open, the ladder was out, and the helmet was off with a sharp exhale, leaving him free to ruffle his silver-streaked brown hair. "GOD I've got to stop doing that to myself..." He made a mental note to himself to get a less bulky helmet. An immobile neck was a sore neck--a lesson reinforced by the audible pops as he rolled his head in a circle. Hopping off the fourth rung and scanning the dock, he gave a sharp whistle to a nearby set of overalls, jerking a thumb towards the spiderweb on his canopy once he had the tech's attention. "Get that buffed out, would ya? Kinda spoils the view."

A smile and a nod later, he was scanning the bay for the security office. Bounties didn't turn themselves in, after all, and a short walk was easily a fair trade for a cool six-figure claim--low fuel, cracked canopy, and backache notwithstanding. A reckless pirate had decided a MKIII cobra was no match for a python, and for some reason, imagined the Vagrant was a juicy target. The fool must have been hopped up on something; even showing the assailant his empty cargo hold hadn't placated him. The ensuing exchange was harrowing, but through sheer tenacity, Daynen had managed to control throttle, pitch, yaw, power distribution and targeting simultaneously long enough to drill his beams through enough layers of shielding and meters of armored hull to set its powerplant ablaze. The explosion wasn't as pretty as the claim alert that he'd seen on his HUD.

Boys back home'll never believe this one, he thought; a smile crossed his face as he spotted the badge of the local security forces. Hell, even THESE guys might not buy it...
28 Jan 2016, 4:45pm
T.Legend:"Angel, your uplinks are still online right?"

Angel flickered into view behind him;

Angel:"Yes, you want me to pull the info on that bounty hunter right?
T.Legend:"Thats my girl, from the looks of his ship he's seen a lot of combat"

T.Legend sat back in his seat only to choke on his coffee when seeing the hunter's most recent claim
22 Mar 2016, 8:38am
"Umm Mmn, all I want for Christmas is the boxset of Glee and a years supply of rolling paper... beep, boop, Beep, Boop, BEEP, BOOP."

*Opening his eyes Aaron Frowns at the bliss he was just denied and slams his hand atop the old alarm clock, rendering it disabled.*
* Retreating into his Duvet for a moment or two Aaron summons the courage to get dressed*


(Image was taken from a Kotaku Article)
http://kotaku.com/some-people-call-him-the-space-cowboy-1550812278

"Time to go Hunting"

"Landing gear retracted"


Last edit: 22 Mar 2016, 8:56am
12 Apr 2016, 1:55am
Cap'm B Wald sallied across the deck, toward pad 08. He loved it here: the low gravity in the docking bay put some extra bounce in his swagger, and made his hair and the tails of his burgundy longcoat flow out behind him, swirling in slow motion. He cut quite the dashing figure here.

The Asp looked a total disaster. It sat at an odd kilter: this was due to the tripod landing legs being mismatched. The left-rear was indeed from an Asp, but the other two were not. The right side leg was from a Python; the nose gear appeared to be scratchbuilt from salvaged construction equipment.

Each hull plate was a different colour, and they didn't *quite* line up with each other- as if the ship was cobbled together from several wrecks (in fact, it was; 8 ships in all). Several plates were missing, replaced with some manner of space-treated plywood. Chipped paint and rust spots abounded. There were several cracks in the canopy, sealed with cellophane tape.

Most distressing of all were the "engines". In place of the dual thrusters one would expect to see at the tail end of an Asp-X, there were the drive sections of at least FOUR F35 Condors, clustered around a single, soot-stained booster nozzle liberated from a Lakon Type-9.

The ship reeked of kerosene, hydraulic fluid, ionized hydrogen, and onionhead.

"Thar she be, right-as-rain" B Wald mused, approaching his beloved heap. A chinless, gangly Dock Officer was walking toward him in that weird "low-g" gait that "normal" folk use (You can always tell a planet-born newbie station-dweller from a proper space sailor by the way they move in low-g). He looked ridiculous.

The Officer consulted a datapad upon intercepting the Captain. "Cmdr. B Wald, is it?" asked the man.

" 's Cap'm, actually," B Wald responded. "Oi, you ain't the usual suit. Where's Tim?"

"That is NOT your concern, 'Captain'," said the Officer, sneering the term 'Captain'. He had a surprisingly authoritative voice, given his appearance. "DO explain the state of your ship."

B Wald looked over at the listing, leaking Asp-shaped thing. "Looks proper to meself, guv. What's the problem, then?"

The Dock Officer opened and closed his mouth several times, attempting to speak. Each time, he stopped, glanced at the "ship", and said nothing. In the end, all he could do was screw up his face and blurt "PROPER?!?"

B Wald began to defend the dilapidated starship. "Aye, lad. She may not please the eye, but-"

The Officer cut him off: "Please the eye? Why not just bolt an FSD to a pile of garbage and fly THAT!!"

"Look mate, that ship be perfectly spaceworthy. Saved me life more times than I care to reckon, she has. Built 'er with our own hands, me mates ane me did."

"You did WHAT"

"AYE! Stranded we were, upon an Earthlike World halfway to Sag A with nothing but a welder an' a few basic hand tools. We'd run afoul of some unknown thing, what killed our ship. T'were the Thargoids, I swear. I barely got 'er down without killin' us all. Either way, we weren't the first ta crash-land there. Many-a downed ship upon the surface there was. Once we'd set ourselves up with shelter, food an' water, we set upon scavengin'. Two hardscrabble years later, the Smuggler's Salvaged Mercy was ready ter bring us home."

"I... see," mumbled the Officer, cautiously. "That is quite unlikely. Thargoids, you say. Indeed. And a distant ELW covered in salvagable starship parts." He glanced at the ship once more. "Although it does explain a few things...ANYWAY," he snapped, regaining his composure, "if you say it's spaceworthy, I'll take you at your word. Not like *I* have to trust it with *MY* life. Just as long as it doesn't fall apart in my docking bay. Now, I also need to talk to you about your cargo."

"%$#@," B Wald thought to himself.

"72 tonnes of... SOMEthing were loaded onto your ship at 21:43 this evening, from the Inara Galactic Bar. Our sensors can't read Phil's containers properly, but the explosives sniffers and geigercounters went crazy."

"Aye, it's Phil's new drink. 's valuable as painite in Altair," B Wald explained.

"A DRINK?" the Officer repeated, incredulously. "First the tale about this...thing," he gestured at the ship, "now you expext me to believe-"

"Look, mate," B Wald interrupted, putting an arm around the Officer's shoulder and leading him under the ship toward the boarding ramp. "Me an' Tim, we 'ad ourselves a little.. 'understanding', yeah...?"

"Go on," said the Officer, interest piqued.

The deep, loud *THOOOM-WOOO" of the Asp's powerplant starting up filled the air; B Wald slapped the Officer with a leather-gloved hand, open-palmed across the face. As the Officer stood there, mouth agape, B Wald stuffed a wad of paper vouchers in the man's open gob and darted up the ramp.

The pilot lifted off before the ramp was even closed, expertly using just enough thruster power to knock the Officer over and send him sprawling, but not enough to injure him.

The thundering BOOM of the Smuggler's Salvaged Mercy's booster echoed around the docking bay, shattering a window or two. A couple of loose nuts, bolts and unimportant metal parts clattered to the floor in her wake. A Cobra on approach dodged the ramshackle ship as it sped through the mailslot at 500 kph, narrowly avoiding a collision.

The Deck Officer stood himself back up, straightening his ill-fitting (and now rumpled) uniform. His anger vapourized when he realized how much money the Captain had stuffed into his face.

"Right," he said. Some ship mechanics were staring at him. "Carry on," he said to them casually. He checked the charge in his stun baton, and went to find Tim.


Last edit: 12 Apr 2016, 2:54am
14 May 2016, 10:09pm
The Sidewinder stuttered into the dock, maneuvering thrusters popping and sparking as the half destroyed ship settled gingerly onto it's pad, looking for all the world like it was held together with duct tape and wishes. The pilot simply climbed out through the gaping hole in the canopy, patting it gently before floating down onto the dock and removing his helmet. His uniform wasn't anything flashy, as the cramped confines of the small fighter discouraged such, just a simple black flight suit with red trim. He called attention of the crew chief, who was busy staring dumbfounded at the flying wreck that was currently gracing his pad.

"Give her the works, chief. She deserves it." Clapping the poor man on the shoulder, CMDR Geradine headed towards the lift, seeking a hot shower and a bunk.
15 May 2016, 3:49pm
Glancing over his shoulder at the pilot walking past, Geradine gave a wave of thanks as he stepped into the now vacant elevator, tapping on 53, and stretching his back as the elevator started to rise, a small cascade of cracks sounded as he worked out the kinks of sitting in a small cockpit. Stepping off at the 53rd floor, he swipes his license at one of the vacant rooms before stepping in.

Over half a day later Geradine steps out, a com holo closing as he does. Glad Sidewinders are so common... means a fast turn around for spare parts. Approaching his pad, he grins widely at sight of the fully repaired ship, and freshly painted to boot.

"Thanks, chief. You boys do some great work." Geradine pats the crew chief on his back as he looks out on his ship, noting it's name freshly scrawled underneath the cockpit once more.

"Yeah, yeah, just couldn' stand th' sight of it blemishing me pad. Wha's wit th' name Troubleshot, anyways?"

Floating to the pad, Geradine calls over his shoulder with a grin before putting his helm on, "Because i tend to get her shot for my troubles."

The engines come online with a healthy warble, lifting smoothly from the pad before heading back out into the black.


Last edit: 15 May 2016, 7:57pm
16 May 2016, 10:20pm
Dommy, the cheif technician, watched Cmdr Geradine fly off in the "repaired" Sidey. His pit crew sergeant, Stevyn Lenko, stood next to him.

"Do ye figure he'll notice we just got him a brand-new ship instead of fixin' the old one, boss?" asked Stevyn.

"Probably not, Lenko. We replicated all his custom bits and paintwork. If he does notice, he oughtta thank us. Restoring that heap would've run him the retail on a T6. Anyhoo, we're still on the clock, back to work. These ships ain't gonna refuel themselves."


Last edit: 16 May 2016, 10:29pm
20 May 2016, 2:46pm
"I'm not asking for anything illegal, per se. Just a few tweaks here and there. That's all."

Hannibal remonstrated earnestly with the chief technician at the docks. He was a large man, bearded, wearing a greasy pair of overalls. His name tag read "Dommy."

"Are ye tryin' to get me in trouble, now? This job pays well and I'm in no position to jeopardize it. Now if ye want some real improvements made, it's gonna cost ye."

Hannibal sighed. Reaching into his back pocket, he withdrew a credit chip and subtly handed it to the technician.

"Now do we understand each other? I want a boost speed of at least 470 by the time this is all said and done."

The man grinned slyly. "Can do."

Post a reply

You must be signed in to post here.
ROLEPLAY ONLY! Respect the universe settings!
If you are new here, please try to at least partially involve in the ongoing stories and conversations instead of establishing a completely different "arc". You can always turn it to a different story later.