The day had finally come.
I had just returned from my survey of the rift and my client had filled my pockets with cash. So, I completed my arrangements with Ising Dock for long-term storage of my little survey fleet, and went shopping!
Shipyard sales guys have a knack for spotting commanders with fat stacks and are ready to drop a big chunk of it on the latest and greatest. Even though you are most likely an Elite pilot by the time you walk into the "large" ship showroom, they still try their best to outfit you with all kinds of crap you don't need.
The poor little guy at FD hangar never saw me coming...
"Hello, and welcome to Faulcon Delacy! We have a 10% off special running this week," piped the little fat guy bounding across the large hangar bay. His flight suit looked like it had never touched a pilot's chair. Trust me, they are easy to spot after a trip to the rift and back.
I looked him straight in the eye. He froze, as if not sure about what was going to happen next. I had learned that it saves a lot of useless banter to "open negotiations" this way.
"Anaconda. Slick. 20 light year range, No goodies," I fired off the list as if I were an admiral speaking to a cadet.
"Uhh," the salesman stammered as if trying to get back on script, "we ha-ve a fine selection of..."
"I know you do my man," I softened just a little. I didn't want the guy having to clean out his elite-wannabe flight suit this early in the morning. "I'm just someone who knows exactly what he wants. And, I'll make sure I throw a tidy little bonus your way if you can get it to me in two weeks."
He saw the bone I just threw him and bit hard, " How 'tidy' are we talking commander?"
Two weeks later I was on my way to the tech broker a couple of systems over. I had worked hard surveying and cataloging Guardian tech for my client. Now, it was time for them to share the love...
Roober the Stroober | Commanding Officer | 2TK-DW "Pilgrim's Progress"