Badass Space Dragon 2.0 - Round 3 - Ship Local

games
42

Mission 5 - Sleep In

Mission Cost: 1 GRIT
Restrictions: None
Rewards if Successful: Waking up refreshed
Risks: None

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“The hat’s not for me. It’s for my deer step-sister.”

“It’s all part of my master plan:”

META MOOSE FOR SIS.

~ Browf

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b100 credit, you say? There’s worse things in life than dying. Being in debt to bad people is one of them. If I’m lucky I’ll find a way not to survive this mission. They might call me an idiot, but they won’t call me a coward. Pontifex! You’ve got too much to live for, so get this stuff installed and get the heck off my ship. Send me a comm when it’s done; I’ll be at Duck’s getting properly drunk for this mission. If any deranged millionaires want to donate to the cause, I’ll beef up my ship until the big lizard just comes in from the backyard and surrenders. Falkayn’s analysis be damned!

b0 | Mission 3: Lizard Tail
b20, +4 FP | Unizone Blasters
b20, +4 FP | Unizone Blasters
b20, +4 FP | Unizone Blasters
b10, +2 SH | Unizone Shield Boosters
b10, +2 SH | Unizone Shield Boosters
b10, +2 SH | Unizone Shield Boosters
b10, +2 SH | Unizone Shield Boosters
b20, +10 HP | Hull Whole Hole Filler
b20 +2 LK | Unizone Lucky Dashboard Bobble

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HAT HAT HAT HAT HAT HAT

b0  - Mission 3 - Lizard Tail
b20 - Unizone Blasters (4 FP)
b10 - Unizone Shield Boosters (2 SH)
--------
b9.4000 remaining
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“Who expects couriers to buy the things they’re contracted to deliver?”

I’m guessing the mission cost here represents fuel/food/dock fees/etc-- i.e. various operating costs. Couriers still have to cover the interim logistics.

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"Lt. Rockford.

I need you to dash down to the Unizone Quik-Aieeeeeee-Mart and pick up one, no make that two Lucky Dash bobbles. The snow globes if they have them.

And see if they still have those Cloaking Devices on the “2 for 1” sale like last week? Either way, get two and that should do.

Also, see if that Unizone Comm Equipment recall covers our comms? That echo is still there and I keep hearing a beep every now an then.

And, yes, thank you, my Antlers do look radiant."

“What are we doing? We are ZepEx Express … of course we’re delivering those hot pockets while their centers are still molten!”

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Mission 2 - Max HP

b20 - Unizone Lucky Dashboard Bobble (2 LK) x2

Not too enamored of any of my options, so I’ll take the one that’ll fail most gracefully. Even though fail it will.

Ella’s reputation precedes her, I’m afraid. Not working for ICUP stooge and war profiteer, no matter how she might like to present herself.

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b10 | Mission 3 - Lizard Tail
b20, +4 FP | Unizone Blasters (4 FP)
b10, +2 SH | Unizone Shield Boosters (2 SH)

A moose’s rack may hang many hats and there are few things finer than a hat on each tiner. If there is no coin in this I will resort to drowning my sorrows in these fine casks of honeywine which make for a very lumpy and uncomfortable bedding, and yet I still feel compelled to sleep with them in the cargo bay.

Lenders to be - ready your rates, for empty pockets lie ahead!

Anyone else facing down Nilah - I’ll be doing my best to fly interference and attract attention, but these damn Quaadhox virtual resistors seem to be the source of the com kit issue, THANK YOU UNIZONE, may our partnership continue to flourish like the yeast infection that will rot out my hide when I get blasted and grounded planetside because I’ve lost the zippity do in my speederoo.

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[Lazlo perambulates into Duck’s Pond, antennae held in a stately manner]

“By the Hell of the Cold Death, that was a weird gig.”

[When pressed for details, Lazlo pauses. After a moment of particular concentration, he continues]

“So, eighteen pilots for eighteen execs, right? Buncha spacers signed on given the possibility of that sweet, sweet gratuity, right? Didn’t ever think I’d draw the lucky spindle. Just wanted a chance to demonstrate what the Didn’t See That Coming was capable of. Maybe grease the nacelles of a deal somewhere later on down the wormhole, right?”

“After a bit, it’s clear that this particular exec has never been in a hot sector. So I start recountin’ a few choice tales. Oh don’t gimme that look - you’d have played it up too. Yeah - maybe they were embellished a bit, but it was artistic license, not shabby fabrication. Didn’t claim anythin’ what hadn’t been done, right?”

“Anyway, I’d just fired a pointcast to the local minin’ district to get an official approach vector. We’d both locked our autopilots onto the vector, when outta nowhere comes this rock with way more v than it has any right to. Miz Exec doesn’t see it, but my AI sniffs it out. Can’t get a lock, so I cut a straightforward coronal wingback for a physical intercept and take it on the hull. All standard escort protocol, right?”

“Miz Exec says it’s the craziest thing she’s ever seen. Invites me to dinner. I say ‘sure’. When someone with a Unicorp Onyx Chit says ‘free grub’? The only answer is ‘you betcha’.”

“So we’re tuckin’ in at this posh joint and she insists on lettin’ me call the shots. For a lark, I suggest the plasma-braised sandfish and the cheapest bottle of Kardashev II eigenmead on the menu. Hotshot doesn’t even bat an eyestalk. Eyeball. Whadyacall 'em.”

“Turns out she’s just a junior exec and a bit low on mass for this sort of thing. Halfway through the bottle, she’s three containment fields to the solar wind. Lets her guard down. So I pour ‘er another, right? Now we’re gettin’ somewhere.”

“Here’s where it gets weird.”

“This exec claims that the Bluefish Day Slug Race was actually a big meta-joke. That the Unicorp execs were gettin’ together to make their own bets. Only instead of bettin’ slugs, they’re placin’ bets on us. Nine slugs - eighteen execs, it’s this weird supersymmetry. Not placin’ bets to win, but placin’ bets to survive. Forty spacers in, N spacers out, right? Big chits on the table - pot is hundreds of SpaceBits. Now we’re not talkin’ StarBits. We’re talkin’ SpaceBits. Apparently, it ain’t fun if it ain’t at least three orders of magnitude more expensive for these types.”

“And I just blanch. I figure she’s crackin’ my shell, right? So bottoms up to my eigenmead and suddenly all that spacer bravado just spills out. Explainin’ how exackly I’m gonna be crushin’ the hulls of ten-bit pirates, pushin’ dangerous cargoes outta the worst gravity wells, and comin’ out the other side smellin’ like a holoceleb an’ wearin’ the shiniest hat in all creation.”

“Awright, so maybe I forgot just how bloody potent K2 eigenmead was. Ya can’t blame me fer tryin’. I don’t remember much of anything after that.”

“Anyways - I wake up the next cycle, shell throbbin’, to discover my incidentals have been covered. And the last transaction on the docket? Says: ‘Go the distance, Scuttle. (b+60)’.”

[Duck sighs and wrings out a sponge-rat, waggling an antler at Lazlo]

“Yeah, I know Duck. Make it a double. Can’t make claws or tails of it. You tell me. I’ve told ya everything I know.”

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Mission 4 Note: Captains hauled the maximum load they could afford with Unizone credit. Sorry about the smell, gotta keep those sand fish shipping.

“You did what?”

4: While it was not in his missive, we…overheard Cpt. Falkayn negotiating a rather…interesting utilization of Unizone parts credit towards trade cargo.

5::8: It would seem he knows even more than he lets on in his newsletter. Your directive before entering sensosleep was to make repairs, upgrade shields, then load as much cargo as we could afford. We did so. The buyers seem very happy with our delivery.

“Well, I did say that. Hm. Falkayn. That guy’s got more angles than a hypercubist portrait. I’m not sure I totally trust him, but at least his motivations are very clear (glancing at his HUD’s 'bit counter). Anyway, it’s kind of hard to argue with results like this.”

“In time, you may find your PUTs demonstrating remarkable initiative. If you have established a good rapport with your ship, you will find its PUTs anticipating your needs and interests and acting accordingly. If you notice this occuring, congratulations! You and your PUTs are becoming a team!”

-from Chapter Seven of Ninth Brain: Getting The Most Out Of Your StarMollusk

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52

Not to shoot myself in the foot but wasn’t this supposed to be slathered round some gears somewhere?

53 
+---------- Ship ----------+-- HP ---+- FP -+- SH -+- EN -+- ST -+- LK -+- GRIT -+
| SLS Say Monkey           | 51/96   |  20  |  29  |  23  |  23  |  25  |   2    |
+--------------------------+---------+------+------+------+------+------+--------+
Hat: None
StarBits: b96.9000
Item | Fishing Pole

That last mission was a long trip with a cargo hold full of sandfish. I don’t think I’ll be doing that again, especially with my atmosphere scrubbers on the fritz. Still, besides the smell, it was a fairly uneventful courier job. Feeling really hungry for some reason though.

After those pirates and meteors there’s not too much left of the Say Monkey’s outer plating. A couple of whole hole fillers should pretty much fix it up. The tech in the service bay said most of the damage would “buff right out” but I don’t know how you can buff out a hole. Still, if you can’t trust a Unizone mechanic, who can you trust eh?

I think this time around I need to pursue something a bit more …interesting. Capt Information is off to bag a space lizard.

Purchases:
b20 - HP | Hull Whole Hole Filler (10 HP)
b20 - HP | Hull Whole Hole Filler (10 HP)
b20 - Unizone Blasters (4 FP)

Mission:
Mission 3 - Lizard Tail

Ship to Ship Transfers:
give @bizmail_public b30.00
(You’d better be playing straight with me Falkayn. Space lobsters have been known to hold a grudge)

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Won’t lie, those were some smelly sandfish, but between the delivery and the bonus, now its time for the Blazer to experience something a little more extreme. That and the smell of spoiled sandfish…ugh! I can only bear “gym reflexes” mode for so long. That said…

Sign me up for…

Augment the ship with…

b20 HP I Hull Whole Filler
b10 Unizone Shield Boosters

Ship to Ship Transfers

b15 to @bizmail_public.

If only I didn’t rewire my dry-cleaning android…but it had to be done. All systems go!

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“All right. Let’s patch up the hull a bit, boost the shields, and dodge some rocks.”

1::8 Acknowledged.

b50 - Mission 4 - Priceless Artifacts
b20 - HP | Hull Whole Hole Filler (10 HP)
b10 - Unizone Shield Boosters (2 SH)
b10 - Unizone Shield Boosters (2 SH)
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Luckybeard came off the ramp of the Dabohaze in a haze. It felt like it had been forever since they’d been out of debt and the pendulum had finally swung in the black. Even beard was humming contentedly with pleasure.

Their executive had been the typical human exec, not as slick as they think they are, not as cool as they ever want to be, and certainly of the opinion that how much money they had was all anyone else ever cared about. Apparently appearances were of the utmost opinion, as seeing ol’ Dabo for the first time he had mutterings along the lines of not the latest Schmapple styles and how his new smartwatch wouldn’t even be able to wirelessly interface with the onboard computer. Well, having seen things go horribly awry, our wired system with with wall jacks works just fine no matter the Dark Space Pulse Flares, and we typically have to go near a lot of them in our deliveries. Anywhere, anytime is what we say.

But even the Cleaned Visitor’s Chair (by the way, we finally found our vacuum! It was in the aft communications array, not the portside cleaning closet like it should have been, Jasper), with the Best View In Space ™ wasn’t enough for this fellow, all he wanted was to jack into the 'net and pull a visor over his head and ignore anything we offered. His loss though, as we weren’t going to let the space lobster caviar go to waste.

A few asteroid hits later and what felt like a million hours spent tiptoeing around the client (Wahoo was the first to learn he would lash out at any noises, apparently he was very deeply involved in some kind of first person shooter) we landed safely and even brought out our version of the red carpet:

8X10-RED-PINK-IVORY-Aubusson-Area-font-b-Rug-b-font-font-b-SHABBY-b-font.jpg850×567 101 KB

All for naught though, he was in the middle of a mission himself and didn’t even raise his visor when we led him off the ship. We got our delivery chit from the local Uni rep and by the time we undocked he was still creeping around with his visor lashing out at any noises. I hope he won or completed his game or whatever. Lot of noises in a space port.

Beard and I looked over the missions. Sandfish are always the best way to go for a sure profit, but with the season changes it looks like spoilage is higher than it typically is. Not worth it on this run with all that damage. While Dabohaze is speedy I’m not sure we’ll be able to outrun the fuzz on Mission 2 and we are pretty sick of Hot Pockets that we periodically find floating around the ship (AND WHY DOES MY CREW THEN KEEP EATING THEM?). Beard fears mutiny if we bring another crate onboard no matter the boost to HP. Ella and I had, well, we have some history. I’m intrigued but not so much that I’m willing to end up with a version of “free stock” from the dotcom bubble.

But grit. Grit’s hard to come by in this world. The risks are great, Nilah’s no slouch and our respect for her is great. But if there’s one thing that’s greater is our face in the face of adversity. We didn’t spend all that time chasing a flying pig in the Mediterranean to not figure out a thing or two about hijacking shipments ourselves. We might not make a profit on this one but we’re going to go after the brass ring.

Mission 3 - Lizard Tail
b20 - HP | Hull Whole Hole Filler (10 HP)
b20 - Unizone Lucky Dashboard Bobble (2 LK)
b10 - Unizone Shield Boosters (2 SH)

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ConGypsCo
“We run your higher functions, so you don’t have to.”

S.O.L. Jr.
MISSION REPORT

By: Joel Robinson, First Mate of the S.O.L. Jr. and VP of Operations, ConGypsCo

We picked up this clown at the galactic front. He seemed OK when he boarded, so we all figured we’d have an easy haul. After all, the captain had us class up the place before we took off. Nice food, good beer, a cushy bed. The works.

So the guy boards, all smiles and handshakes and good words for everybody about how grateful he was and how welcome he felt in our lovely ship. Cap had us strap in and take off and all was well.

Until we ran into some asteroids.

It was no big deal, really. Nothing we hadn’t dealt with before. Cap and I were on the bridge, monitoring the surveillance cams and assessing the damage. Just a few little dings in the hull near rocket nine. Some of the spackle got knocked loose, but no breaches. Mostly just a lotta noise.

Well, Mr. Big Executive lost it. I mean, he kinda sorta freaked out. Apparently some people can’t handle the hazards of space travel. We didn’t know it at the time, since we were busy watching the external feeds, but once we docked and watched the internals… holy cow.

First, the guy drained the keg of Schmaltz Malt Liquor. I mean, he drained it dry, all at once, couldn’t’ve taken more than two minutes. All my life, I never saw any humanoid drink so fast. His post-guzzling explosive belch damaged the galley comm; the audio was garbled after that. The video shows him stomping around the galley, shaking his fists and yelling. All the while, that stupid smile of his never wavered, like it was painted on or something. It’s like he was happy and angry at the same time. Super creepy.

He threw the fancy T4c0 8377 food on the floor and ground it into the carpet with his giant red boots. It’s gonna take the nanites forever to clean that chemical residue outta the loom.

We were able to piece together some of the audio from his tantrum:
“[garbled] have to ride [garbled] this piece of [garbled] transport [garbled] being flown by a [garbled] half-lizard [garbled] and they’re serving me [garbled] that’s not even food [garbled] and now i have to go [garbled] those [garbled] who work in my salt mines [garbled] minimum wage raise my fat [garbled] i oughtta kill [garbled] stupid mayor can’t keep [garbled] in line [garbled]”

It goes on for like an hour. Stomping and yelling.

And I don’t know what that guy was eating before he boarded, but the third deck toilets are never gonna flush the same again.

I won’t even mention what he did to the captain’s quarters. Yikes. As soon as she saw the damage, she had us drop her at Duck’s so she could reset a few circuits and have a good long think about the next mission.

Advice for other Unizone shippers:
If you see this guy, you might wanna give him a wide berth. He might seem like some innocuous business clown at first, but it’s all a facade.

And for all the damage he caused, he didn’t tip us ONE. DAMN. BIT.
What an a$$hole.

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Quirky sits at the bar at Duck’s, gently rolling a Mark V Personal Massage Grenade™ from one claw to another. The directions and the guarantee, “Your Friend with Benefits, Intimate and Explosive”, appear and disappear like a flirtatious dawn as it arcs languidly from one claw to another, and then back again, a Venus in Mars’ retrograde clothing.

A bumpy shadow suddenly looms over Quirky’s self-satisfied reverie. Quirky looks up to see Duck.

Quirky: “Anyhow, tips come in all shapes and sizes, don’t they?”

Duck swings his dewlap in a way that suggests to space lizards, “Order, or get off my bar.”

Quirky: “Oh. Yes. Right. Um, gleeb. Yes, I’ll have a gleeb, Duck.”

The thick glass of gleeb clacked down before him, Quirky drops the Personal Massage Grenade into his satchel, and flicks on the Omni-Pay™.

Quirky: “Let’s fill some holes, shall we?”

Holes. He snickers like a little schoolboy. Filled. Scutes of the Clutch-Mother, that gleeb hits you fast. Oh, and look! There went his tail, followed by a little technicolor motion trail, and a noise like a well-traveled bunny eating a brown envelope of trepidatious, but willing, violins.

Quirky: “…and make some.”

With a tip-tap click of claw on screen, Quirky makes the purchase:

Quirky: “Pppppb! Bwaaab!”

His clutch doesn’t normally produce those phonemes. Must be the gleeb talking.

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tickertape.jpg634×620 41.6 KB

[With the trusty and reliable onboard Compute-O-Tron 9000 chattering away, Lazlo sifts through the tape output and scrutinizes the latest round of calculations.]

“I cannot believe I’m about to do this. We finally get a shot at a proper dustup, a shot at a proper hat, and here I am runnin’ numbers. Maybe I been listenin’ to that Falkayn character too long, but Tidewalker’s mandibles - this opportunity is just too good to pass up.”

“Station? Didn’t See That Coming. We’re gonna need a load of sandfish. We’re gonna need all the sandfish you got. And then we’re gonna need some more. Twenty two standard galactic shipping units. Yup. That’s right. Twenty two. Look, I’m serious. Just take 'em as far as the bay, I’ll use the loader to bring 'em aboard myself. Yes. I know about the … yes. I’ll get 'em aboard ASAP. Shouldn’t overload the scrubbers. Right. Thanks.”

crates.JPG800×533 123 KB

[The Longshorebots trundle to and fro, delivering a pungent bounty of sandfish to Bay 28. Lazlo works quickly to bring the cargo aboard. Painstakingly, he pushes crates to the edge of the cargo bay first, the next crates closer to the center - always careful not to disturb the ship’s center of mass any more than necessary. After a hard afternoon of space labor, he rests his claws on his cephalothorax and beams with colorful pride at the well-organized crates of sandfish in his cargo bay.]

“Now that is what I call a proper poisson distribution!”

b220 | Mission 1 - Fish On!
= b120 | 12x crates of sandfish
= b100 | 10x crates of sandfish on credit

Pilot Lazlo “Scuttle” Deepwalker of the Didn’t See That Coming.

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You have won the internets for the rest of the week!

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“Thir? Thir?”

“Yesss, what is it, Professsssor?”

“I’m thorry to have dithturbed you, thir. It’th jutht… I’ve never theen you without your bionic body armor before.”

“Felt ssstuffy. Wanted to air out the thoracic ssscaless a bit. I sssenssse a fungal infection taking root.”

“Thir! I thuthpect it may be worthe than that. Theveral dozen of your dorthal thcaleth theem to have been abraded away…”

“It’ssss jussst sssstresssss, Professssor. No need to fussss. It’sss been a rough week.”

“…I’d thought the delivery went relatively thmoothly…”

“On the sssurface, perhapsss. Our client was civil and low-maintenance, the asssteroids did only nominal damage, and we were promptly paid.”

“I did notice the cuthtomary gratuity was conthpicuouthly abthent.”

“It’sss a gratuity, Professsor, not a sssurcharge. The client is free to pay it or not at the client’sss sssole dissscretion.”

“Ith that why you theem tho dithgruntled? The lack of a tip?”

“No! No, not entirely. It’sss jussst… thisss misssion went fairly sssmoothly, and yet we find ourssselvesss deeper in the hole than when we began. It’sss a different galaxy today than it was during the Revolution. We work our tailsss off for Unizone, and we can’t ssseem to be able to grow them back quite ssso well anymore.”

“Have you conthulted with the Admiralty? Perhapth the Counthil of Elderth can advithe…”

“The Admiral thinksss we should go rogue! He’s an elderly, greyssscaled ssskink who cut his fangsss on pre-Revolutionary piracy when it was ssstill the mossst ressspected path to sssolvency for a Ssspace Lizard, ssso it’sss to be expected that he’d advocate hoisssting the Jolly Raptor the moment revenuesss went sssouth. But I’m not sure that’sss wise. At leassst, not yet.”

“What are our optionth, thir?”

“Did you review the recall notice of the U.C.E.S.K.? What’sss our prognossisss?”

“I ethtimate a 76% probability that our Engineering index will fall to 26.”

“Temporarily?”

“Remainth to be theen, thir. Might be thelf-correcting, if we’re lucky. But I wouldn’t count on it.”

“Great. Jussst perfect. Well, I won’t take on any further debt. The Denture may not be the fassstest, largessst, or baddessst-assss ship in Charybdisss, but I jussst made the lassst payment on her, and I’m damned if I’ll risk repossession by Unizone, of all people. I’d commit thisss whole crew and all their unhatched offssspring to a life of piracy before I risssk losing thisss ship to creditors! Asssteroids, black holesss, ssspace eelsss, gunshipsss, any form of interssstellar misssadventure is preferable to getting wedgied by Unizone’s Repo-Bots!”

“No more debt, then. That limitth our optionth.”

“Tell me about it. I have no free capital to move any sssandfish, even though hauling enough might get usss out of the red. Too sssmelly to be worth it anyway. And Ella, damn her larcenousss heart, won’t go near usss while we’re in the hole.”

“There’th no upfront cotht to running the Hot Pocketth.”

“If your 76% probability of Engineering failure comesss to passs, then we have a 44% chance of Engine Failure. And a 36% chance of a ssspeeding ticket.”

“You uthed to collect thothe. The thtarboard head ith thtill wallpapered with them.”

“Ssstill more trouble than it’sss worth.”

“But that leaveth only one option…”

“The Lizard Tail.”

“But thir… that mission goeth againtht everything you thtand for.”

“Whaddaya talking about? Gritty as hell, no risssks we can’t handle, chance of a fat payout…”

“But thir! Nilah is family!”

“We’re Ssspace Lizardsss, Professsor. Every cold-blooded tuatara from Omnocron to Orion is ‘family,’ doesn’t mean we owe them anything.”

“You do realize, thir, that Unizone ith thimply playing uth againtht each other? We can’t beat them thith way. Thith ith jutht how they keep uth under their corporate heel.”

“Of courssse I realize what they’re up to. Thisss is a longer con than they’ll be expecting. Nilah is a calculated sssacrifice.”

“Calculated?”

“Professssor, use that walnut-sssized brain you’re named for. Hell, engage that sssecond brain in your sacrum. When Nilah’sss taken out of the picture… who will fill the vacuum left behind?”

“Who…? Thomebody we know?”

“We will, you underevolved ssstegosssaur!”

“We will? Tho… the Admiral wath right?”

“Once we’re back, we can break out the eyepatchesss, but for now let’sss keep thisss to ourssselvess. Now, I need a drink.”

“I think they’re out of Tropical Coolant over at Duck’th Pond.”

“Then let’sss sssee if the Inflatable Pub is docked nearby. Might be we can enlissst a confederate or two.”

Ship: I.M.V. Carcinogenic Denture
No Upgrades nor Repairs
MIssion 3 - Lizard Tail

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