Episode 125, Two Classes
11 Nov 2024Ryuko Ntsikana
Mandalay class ship
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Sitting in the Mandalay’s galley Ryuko scrolled through his data tablet, reading various charts and projections. Each time he paused to type something on its holographic keyboard he would take a sip of coffee. Somewhere in between the various tabs showing all of the information necessary to run a fleet carrier, its crew, and contract personnel, Ryuko paused long enough to look at the relative time and date at the bottom right of the screen.
All of the numbers, graphs, projections, payroll, and statistics were making his mind numb. He was supposed to be a pirate but could not remember the last time he pirated anything. His last grand act, supposedly as a pirate, was to brand his late mentor’s name into the system where the split took place that ultimately led to him being hunted down and killed. Aside from carving his name into everyone’s mind, what did he do could be remotely deemed as worthy of a pirate?
Of course, Mister Price would be giving him that look that told him the answer was different than what he was thinking, and he would be right. It wasn’t always about interdictions and raids. Those things were minor and petty. The professional only engaged in those when they wanted to make a little extra, were bored, or wanted to send a message. For those who did not know anything else, they never lasted long. There were always more bounty hunters than pirates, and their pay was better.
Ryuko looked up at Tara sitting across from him—silent and still as the space beyond the hull. She knew that distant look in his eyes. It wasn’t the first time it had appeared and he knew it wouldn’t be the last. He wasn’t about to feel sorry for himself. Not with all of the information on his data tablet. It spoke of someone who went far beyond what they were. Hell, Tara sitting across from him screamed that loud enough to shake every orbital body in the system.
“A successful pirate becomes a leader and administrator,” Tara said softly, breaking the silence. “You have your own carrier, brothel, crews, front and black market. Not one person you learned from ever come close to that, and your mentor would be proud.”
A smile tugged at Ryuko’s mouth as he lifted his coffee tumbler up to take another sip. “Which mentor?”
Tara chuckled in her evolved fashion that was not programmed mimicry. “Wilson trained to you think beyond and survive. Now, you have your benefactor, who is lighting the way beyond. The statistical probabilities for that to have happened, to a young pirate pleb, are greater than the sum required to map all of the stars, at the same time, within this galaxy.”
Ryuko set his tumbler back on the table. “I appreciate the pep talk but I’m not feeling sorry for myself.”
“No,” Tara said, batting her eyelashes at him. “You are reminiscing about things of old. The things you know. Not the unknown that stares at you each time you look at one of those graphs.”
Ryuko picked up his tumbler again, looking into her eyes. She was right, as she often was. It was nostalgia—a gnawing attachment to what was familiar, to the straightforward thrill of a life lived on the edges of star systems. And here he was, their leader, staring at projections and payrolls instead of planning the next raid or bounty hunting.
“That was…poetic,” he said, voice laced with irony.
Tara leaned forward, studying him with those impossibly perceptive eyes. “So, accounting lord of Ryuko’s merry band of pirates. What’s the next move?”
Ryuko did his best to keep a straight face even though he knew this was a battle he couldn’t win.
“Thinking of purchasing and kitting out a cargo Cutter. Figure half a billion for 728 tons with full engineering, turreted weaponry, a bi-weave shield, and a tough hide. It will cut down the time to fill up the Tritium fuel bunker on the carrier, giving us more time in the field, making a profit.”
“Nice dodge,” Tara said with a smirk appearing on her face. “How long to get it all together so we can get out of here?”
Ryuko smiled as he lifted up his forearm computer to hail Captain Akio. “I can place the order on the way back to the carrier, and the moment we land we can jump. Figure a couple of hours of hard-charging around to the various engineers and we can be back on board and jumping out before dinner this evening.”
Tara stood up, placing one of her hands over his data tablet, covering it, and outstretching her other arm towards the galley entrance. “You’re better at piloting than with the numbers. Let me deal with those, you get us your new ship.”
Smart ass.
Imperial Cutter class ship
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Ryuko traced his hand along the bulkhead as he walked through the corridors of his new ship. If the Mandalay and Cutter brought anything to his holdings it was more questions than answers.
Of his personal ships, the factory fresh and engineered Mandalay was the second, next to his Python-2, to not have a planned piracy configuration designed into it. Neither of their designs lent themselves to hauling the required cargo amount needed to profit from that source of revenue. Only Corvus Python-2 was designed for interdicting, but not pirating, for the Coterie wing. The Cobra Mk IV Ryuko had purchased from Lysandra was engineered and profitably piracy-capable.
The ship’s current exploratory configuration gave it a 54-ly jump range, fully fueled, stretching to 63-ly, with a total endurance unrefueled range of 740-ly. While not impressive compared to the configuration of others, Ryuko was not seeking maximum single jump range but endurance. While efficient for its intended purpose, running out ahead of the carrier to explore everything between its location and its next jump, its downside was its size. It was incapable of squeezing itself into tight spots in steep mountainous and severely broken geological regions.
While the Mandalay certainly had its spot in the hangar, his small Dolphin class ship remained the ruling champion of exploration. At 41-ly single jump range, stretching to 45-ly, with an endurance range of 342-ly between refuels, it did not have the ranges of the Mandalay, but it didn’t need to. It had a super-cruise over-drive like the Mandalay, allowing it to super-boost its luminary speed, and, unlike the Mandalay, it could fit inside the tightest most restrictive terrain.
No, the question the Mandalay, and for that matter, his more recent additions to the hangar, called into question was that of the Beluga and Orca class ships. Both were redundant at this point, taking up space, weight, and maintenance resources that could better be put to use with a more purposeful class of ship. He would benefit more from removing many of their engineered modules and selling the ships, as is.
Pulling out his data tablet from his flight suit cargo pocket, Ryuko ran the numbers. He would need to stay close to the bubble or Colonia for the, as yet to be dated, release of the new Cobra-5. If he sold the Beluga and Orca class ships he could purchase it at a profit. Their engineered parts he could repurpose for those that would fit nicely into its frame.
Ryuko poured himself a cup of coffee and sat down in the galley, tapping on his data tablet. With the Beluga and Orca class ships being dethroned, they were not rendered obsolete for other purposes. Playing the opposing advocate, Ryuko sipped on his coffee and made the case, to himself, on reasons why he should keep them.
Provided backup alternatives, as rare as that may be. Additional module storage. The already noted monetary value. Hell, they just looked bold and sexy. They screamed status. The perception it gave to clientele—being hosted in something so decadent—had its own value. Who doesn’t like to be wined and dined in luxury? They were already designated as self-sustaining long-range lifeboats for the crew.
Ryuko allowed his mind to wander as he finished his coffee, the decision already forming. Screw it, he thought, a grin playing on his lips. When the new Cobra-5 became available, he’d purchase it, engineer it to perfection, and decide from there. He’d been playing with these calculations long enough—more than enough, considering the Pegasi mission was complete, his mentor’s legacy had taken on a life of its own, secured by a legal accord that no one dared question.
His gaze settled on his tablet again, the wealth of statistics and schematics suddenly inconsequential against a simpler truth. He’d built something that transcended piracy alone; he’d built an enterprise, a legacy worthy of remembrance. The rest was just icing on a cake already served.
As he rose from the table, his path clear, he muttered to himself, “Time to quit screwing around and concentrate on my crew.”