You don’t want to owe money to Don Mondo, accidents have been known to happen.
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I suspected as much.
‘Porcopalypse Now’ - “I love the smell of Bacon in the morning…”
Kilgore: Smell that? You smell that?
Lance: What?
Kilgore: Bacon, son. Nothing else in the world smells like that.
[kneels]
Kilgore: I love the smell of Bacon in the morning. You know, one time we were pinned in a diner for 12 hours. When it was all over, I walked to the kitchen. We didn’t find one of ‘em uncured hams, not one stinkin’ raw pork belly. The smell, you know that crispy smell, the whole place. Smelled like
[sniffing, pondering]
Kilgore: Breakfast. Someday this meal’s gonna end…
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Ship Name - Cobra II
Store - 9x Barrels of Algae = $900
Mission 4 = $0
Total = $900
What’s the worst that could happen? I get $10,000, I get $990 for the Algae (Soylent Blue) I get +1 Grit. - I pay $9000 to have the ship fixed, My FP=9 & I’ll have to pay $100 to have the fish stink cleaned, I’ll have $2085. THERE IS NO POTENTIAL TO OWE DON MONDO MONEY
I think I’ve done the maths right. I should make a spread sheet. I’m so glad I didn’t know what a spread sheet was when I was playing 'Elite" (You should’ve seen the scribbled bits of paper I had scattered about the desk in those days)
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Heh… you still drive a jumped up Pinto with fat racing sssstripessss…
hee hee hee
Lizards and Cobras just don’t get along do they? Don’t worry, I’m sure you’ll get a chance to kill each other, it’s a small galaxy.
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kktch Hailing on all frequencies, hailing on all frequencies. This is Commander Jameson of 'Cobra II for Captain ‘Lisping’ Sssskipper of I.M.V ‘Farting God’ Just thought you’d like to know about my last cargo. I thought the contract said I was carrying 10 tonnes of ore, but it turned out I mis-heard. I was just carrying 10 tonnes of Whore. It was your mum & she’s so fat…kktch
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Geeze. I never know what to do. Looks like I have fairly lack luster stats except for EN. It’s expensive, but the reward is pretty good. So I guess I’ll just have to gamble on this mission. Of course I, personally, have horrible luck in games and anything left up to chance usually ends up screwing me. I will either get a leg up, or be kicked to the bottom of the pack. Already. I think Marvin is in charge of the morale around here.
Ship Name - Grey Mouser
Store - nothing
Mission 1 = $600
Total = $600
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Rummages through 8 track cartridges "Ah. That’s the one I was looking for:
and this one:
OK I think I’m ready.
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Ship Name - Pillar of Autumn
Store - $0
Mission 1- $600
Bribe - $200
Total = $800
Typical human, thinking to assssault my dignity by way of a ssslur againssst the layer of my egg (whom I never met anyway, and am given to understand was one of the most expen$$$ive courtesans in the “Above 20,000 lb” weight class back home). In return, I invoke the ssscathing words of an erudite member of your own ssspeciesssss, Zach Weinersssmith:
@BadAstronomer @scalzi Yo mama and the moon have a Lagrange point.
— Zach Weinersmith (@ZachWeiner) March 21, 2013
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El-Esk - The Senescent Wanderer
Mood: Contemplative/Murderous
El-Esk had fought, and nearly killed, the ageless Sam Davis in high orbit around Angeldust. She’d sown old-style nukes in amongst the debris of the orbital band - laughably primitive, and almost invisible to skin-borne sensors. He’d been chasing her on the orders of the House Council - had been overconfident, swayed by past experience. He’d not expected the one-two punch - the triplets clusters of explosions detonating like leviathan shaped charges. He’d leapt away when a hypersonic gout of molten metal had lanced through him, gouging out a gaping, hundred metre wound.
She’d not been able to track him.
El-Esk had fought alongside Sam, when he’d just begun his integration into the first of his ship-bodies. They’d gunned through Taygate, burning out the last remnants of the Transgress - the fundamentalist, human-first whackjobs who’d been pursuing the tail-end of the Majid exodus. The fuckers trying to finish off their bastard machine-genocide - a government of xenophobes and luddites. El and Sam had been free agents, then, acting on their own auspice - their own outrage. Acting alone, they’d brought that state low.
El-Esk had fought in the street battles in the domes of Tharsis Montes, back in the early Martian decades. She’d been there with Suzy and Carlos, marshalling her students, driving the protectorate forces back to their beach-head at the base of the 'spire, and then back up the thread to phobos and their waiting ships. They’d sent them packing.
And before that, El-Esk had lived with Sam and Kat and Ed, back in that old house by the old highway.The old weatherboard monstrosity covered in graffitti and tangled jasmine, back in the summer when it all went wrong, and the collapse precipitated out all that pent up fury and frustration, and suddenly there were pitched battles between the socialists and neo-fascists and islamic-universalists and the red-greens and the pink coalitions… and the state police - the worst gang of all. The summer they’d 3D-fabbed together a sort of tool-kit for dissent - the gas-mask and the composite riot armour and the less-than-lethal sabot-launcher - and driven them all out, and the house became the House, capitalised.
All of this should tell you two things; El-Esk was old, and El-Esk hated authority.
‘I hate people who try and force their will onto others,’ she’d told me, once. ‘And I’m going to make damn sure I stop anyone I find from doing that…’
I didn’t point out the irony. Just like I wouldn’t point out the irony in a House ship moving out against Government forces. Still… this was Charibdys, and we were a long, long way (try centuries) from the nearest House system. Authority, when you come down it, is Authority, whatever the name, and Esk was spoiling for a fight.
It wouldn’t ever be as bad as her feud with Sam, but it would still implicate us in a new conflict - a new set of combatants and antagonisms. Most of the crew are dilettantes - little magpie men and women gawking at baubles, shipping out for the prestige and the sex-appeal and the stories. But there’s a few I like - that I wouldn’t want to see flatlined.
I hope (I trust) that she know’s what she’s doing.
No Shopping - Its one day out and we can eat, refuel, whatever, when we return. If we return… Also I’m still not sure if I’ve ever seen El-Esk eat
Mission 4 - Break the Line
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I never liked the smell of bacon. There was a salvage op I pulled, in a system you probably wouldn’t even recognise - back when some faction or other was camping out past the ecliptic and dosing incoming ships with full-spectrum radiations. Something about panspermia rights and plantary access. These poor things would burn up from the inside out - still sealed, still heading down, in-system.
The first one we tore open: it was a charnel house - a full on fucking barbeque. Crew swore they could smell it through their suits.
And I remember that smell, sniffing it down, and thinking…
Bacon.
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I’m supposed to lock this thread in about 10 minutes but let’s call it 3 hours and 10 minutes since it’s the first day and we’re missing some ships. Don Mondo wants his pork and oranges, let’s get a move on people! …and robo-people… and space lizards.
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Aluminum Mallard
Shop 2x Barrels $200
Mission 2 $300
Total $500
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Hoosier Mama
Shop 2x Barrels $200
Mission 2 $300
Total $500
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You make me sssssssalivate.
(…that is, more than usual…)
I always pick up a couple of barrels of algae when available - the cat lives off of the breakage and so I don’t require a food replicator (I don’t get many visitors either). I isolate the odor from my olfactory sensors so I don’t even notice, and it keeps thieves away.
Ship Name : Jewel of the Desert
Store ------- 2x Barrels of Algae ==== $200
------- 1x Lucky Rabbit's Foot = $500
Mission ----- 4 ===================== $0
Total ================================ $700
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