So you want to know a bit about me?  Pull up a stool, order a drink and... put your creds away, I can afford it better than you... no, order off the top shelf or leave me alone, I only drink the good shit.

A year ago today I finished flight school and signed the loan for my first ship, a falling apart Sidewinder.  Today I put down an 83 million credit deposit, cash, to the folks at Saud Kruger for my top spec, custom built Beluga.  I handed the credits over in an office overlooking my hangar, dozens of ships worth half a billion credits just collecting dust... the difference a year makes.

Yeah, there's lots of struggling pilots out there... they sleep well. I don't, but I'm haunted by my demons in a bed they couldn't afford to even look at in a store.

What? Criminal? No. I stay on the right side of the law and the wrong side of my conscience. I've fought wars, hunted criminals, but those are for fun, no, my money comes from prisoner transport. You want to shove 60 of them in the back of my Orca and send them to a prison camp even the guards never make it out of? Cash up front or no deal! There'll be screams of agony from inside the camp? I'll turn up my music.

A clean conscience is a bad investment.