Oscabi system, it was the focus of intense work by the federal faction of Felicia Winters, to expand into it. At the same time, other opposing forces were fighting against it.

Helena was at the helm of her Type 6. She and her escort wingmates in Eagle had dropped in on the Nav beacon to get the ultimate destination of her supply of Liberal Federation supplies.

“Keep your eyes peeled, I've barely escaped a few attacks in the past. I'd much prefer a repair bill than a rebuy.”

Her new wingmates were as green as grass. The were both classed as Competent, but they had the egos of an Elite. Her comms crackled to life, and Merton's voice rang out.

“I don't see anything, but I'll keep an eye out.” Helena sighed as she set to work targeting the nav beacon, and started to scan it. She had to admit, of the two, Merton was the least trigger happy. He was aware that his Eagle would never be a true giant killer. The other voice rang out.

“We'll keep you safe, Chief, and when we get back. Maybe we could go for a meal?”

Helena sighed again, and triggered her own comm.

“Carter, keep your eyes on that scope, and on the black. We are insanely vulnerable right now.”

It was at that moment, she spotted a ghost on her scope. The sensors could detect something, but they couldn't interrogate the feedback properly to tell her if it was a lump of rock or a ship. Merton had also spotted it, and broadcast his own warning.

The signal finally cleared up, and Helena felt her heart race. It was a ship, she shot her eyes to the contacts panel and barely held back a shudder.

Anaconda.

There were few reasons a ship that large would be vectored in her direction, and none of them were good.

The rectangle shifted to a triangle, and Helena shut her eyes and begged the void for a scan from a Federal Agent.

Merton almost wished he hadn't been looking over the Type 6. The top of the ship was struck amidship, a bright flash or vibrant purple plasma.

“My shields are hit hard, 50%! Break formation!”

As the three ships scattered, Merton could see the sheer level of firepower being unleashed. All of it on Helena.

Helena was swearing viciously at the pilot of the Anaconda as she tried to move out of the fire, but it was all cut off as Carter proclaimed loudly on the comms.

“I've got this bastard!”

She watched in horror as his Eagle vectored towards the Anaconda, and he accelerated madly. Since all the fire was aimed at her own ship, he may be able to survive this rush.

Carter grinned wildly, as his lasers splashed over the shields. Yeah, it was a lot bigger, but these big ships couldn't turn for a damn, and his Eagle would fly circles around it. In a bout of pure bravado, he had vectored his ship to skim over the shields, not quite coming into contact, but close enough for the pirate fucker to see the one finger salute he was going to give him.

Still grinning with the confidence of a far greater skilled man, Carter let go of his control stick in preparation for this act of defiance.

That smile vanished as the two opposing shields came into contact, and the hull of his speeding Eagle came solidly into contact with the shining gold hull over the bridge. In an instant, two things happened. The Eagles shield lost coherence instantly. Carter's hull took the next hit, and it was crushing, to say the least.

Flames blossoming around the hull, Carter had absolutely no control as his COVAS yelled the ejection alert, and as his ship was destroyed, he was pulled away, his destination the last station he stopped at.

The commander of the Anaconda, in that same moment, barely registered the impact of the Eagle, only the notification of a bounty for his attack. There was a single sound from the Dangerous ranked commander.

“Boop.”

Helena and Merton didn't last much longer. It appeared that the Anaconda was out for blood, and not cargo. Helena told Merton to flee, her own FSD had been targetted, and destroyed. She was stuck. Merton could be heard refusing the order as Helena's Type 6 blew up.

Merton looked over the remains of the two other ships, and glanced despondently at his hull strength.

An Eagle was really of no use against an Anaconda.

Some time later, in Federation Space.

Helena stood, her arm bandaged up, one of her few remaining injuries as she looked over Carter and Merton. It was a downside of the more compact cockpits on a fighter. Merton had taken severe injuries along the left side of his body, and it was only from the use of Progenitor Cells that he was still alive, and likely able to go back out there.

Carter, well he was getting used to his brand new artificial eyes. He was going to be out of service for a while. Both of his legs had been amputated, but he was still alive, if not quite kicking though, well not yet at least.

Helena sighed and keyed the intercom.

“Carter, you fucking idiot.”

To future me: Actively stop him next time. We can't go down to atmospheric worlds, especially not to Earths. How often do I have to repeat that to him? We, being the Commanders of the Pilots Federation, are not allowed to go down there. We're not trained for that kind of stuff. Atmospheric layers changing, weather conditions... not our thing. But no, he has to try. Stupid-ass Arco. Hold on. <Flight control, signing Delta Romeo Alpha. Continue to landing Pad Zero Niner> Alright. He's on there. Still in stasis I believe. Damn it Arco, why do you think only trained shuttle pilots are allowed to do that? How'd you even override the ship's security systems? I couldn't even get close. Also, our Ships are built to keep an pressurized atmosphere in. NOT to keep reentry plasma out. I don't even know if our Thrusters work in an atmosphere. Damn it. Hope he's at least kept his arms and legs. Well the Remlok suits are very durable actually. We'll see. <1000 Metres to touchdown> Oh? Oh, Landing gear. There we go. Good old Draco still got legs. Easy does it, been a while. <Landing couplers engaged. Welcome Commander.> Actually no, I've landed on severaly potatoes and planets on my journey. Even found a body just 300 km in diameter. Now, where is he? Alright, automated cargo transfer in progress. Nice. In the meantime... Aw come on. Why'd you ship him up here when you got one a hundred kilometers from his impact site? Man, why are there so few stasis recovery centres anyway? I mean, when I turn in some escape pods, do they ship them to another system first? Alright, to Soch I go. Just 300 ly. No worries. 6 Jumps and we're there.

At the beginning of the year, I decided to make my first attempt at exploration outside the Bubble. I had recently performed some minor engineering on my FSD, and so my jump range was in the healthy low 40s for light-year coverage. With my bags packed, my pumpkin of a ship inspected and space-worthy, I set out to meet the Witch . . . and fly right into her mouth.

Target Destination: the Witch Head Nebula.
Vessel: Diamondback Explorer, "Leaf on the Wind."
Reached Destination: Witch Head periphery.
Time: 3 days.

My original intent was to penetrate the nebula and explore a stellar nursery somewhat nearby inhabited space. Feeling a little adventurous, I did not calculate much of my journey. Time was no factor and fuel no object, so I chose my route at random with the caveat I encountered main-sequence stars for fuel along the way. With a healthy jump range and a light ship, my Leaf on the Wind would carry me on my first real cosmic adventure. Unfortunately, I encountered a few miscalculations due to lack of research and I experienced a minor system malfunction that nearly pummeled my hull.

First and foremost, the Witch Head Nebula's stars are not cataloged for jumping, as far as I can tell, therefore only perimeter systems can be targeted. The nebula is quite small compared to others in the general galactic vicinity, and it was possible to jump through it, just not into it. But, as explorers know, jumping through is not the same as jumping in. I was certainly disappointed once I reached the nebula's perimeter, discovering that I could not actually penetrate her. Because I really wanted to fly into the Witch's mouth! Once I determined my initial goal was unattainable, I decided to head toward Barnard's Loop and start exploring the Orion Molecular Cloud Complex.

I knew it would take much longer, so I wanted to calculate my route with a little more attention—I wanted to see proto-stars and neutrons, even black holes, but I also needed to be sure I could refuel. What I needed was a landing site where I could comfortably perform my calculations. The planet selected for resting and updating my course was both convenient and innocuous, but something went terribly wrong during landing. I crashed . . . and hard. My landing gear deployed with no issues and the gravity of the planet was maybe 0.25G. About 500 meters from touch-down, I lost control and pummeled down at a terrifying velocity, as if the planet itself reached up and yanked me to the surface, impacting on the port side. The impact was brutal but forgiving, for my injuries were minor (a little whiplash and a fractured wrist). I ran a systems diagnostic and found a combination of issues, all minor but the sum of which led to the shortfall. Nothing systemic, just the critical combination of failures. At some point during my trip, my Leaf suffered a small hull breach; nothing substantial but just enough to bugger the internal atmo, resulting in one of the thrust regulators freezing. Not seizing, mind you; I mean literally freezing because the regulator was exposed to the temps of the void. Along the same circuit is an integrity sensor, which also froze, meaning I was not notified of an error in the cockpit that one of my vertical thrusters had failed. I patched the hull, repressurized the compartmented area, and then replaced the regulator and sensor. I found out once I returned home that vertical thrusters are supposed to work homogeneously, and if one side fails, the other side tends to falter. The impact was significant by any margin and compromised the overall integrity of my hull. I believe I lost 60% from that impact alone. At that point, continuing on to the OMCC seemed too risky and home seemed more appealing. But I was not to return home without witnessing the marvelous.

Once my system was relatively healthy again, sans hull integrity, I considered at least getting a taste of the OMCC, and so I mapped out the stars along Orion's Belt. Two of the three stars were indeed on my way back to the Bubble, with minor detours, so I charted courses for Alnitak and Mintaka. Although my trip was cut short, those two systems alone made up for my losses. I started with Rigel, my first supergiant, and then proceeded to Alnitak and Mintaka, covering three of the seven critical systems in the OMCC. I would have witnessed four of the seven had I detoured to Betelgeuse. The third star along Orion's Belt, Alnilam (Epsilon Orionis, according to our charts), was nearly a thousand light-years in the other direction, toward the Orion Nebula. Considering my original plan did not include Orion, and my bizarre crash-landing was relatively gentle, I think I managed well. To be sure, let my photographic journal speak to that and you decide.

Witch Head Nebula Sojourn

Thank you for indulging my tale, and fly safe, Explorers! o7

Respectfully,
Commander Aasir Alamani Omondi
AKA CMDR Alphaloft

Preface: This story comes from the early days of Elite, when RES's had could spawn either all sidewinders, cobra's and sidewinders or Conda's. 91k was a pretty good bounty back then.

It had been a frustrating day for this bounty hunter.

Seems RES points in my system had been freshly stocked with eager little sidey pirates everywhere I went. Jump after jump brought a fresh batch of the annoying little buggers. I think the cobras had either all taken the day off or someones been fishing over their limit.

Earlier in the day I'd tried my hand at mercenary work over in Lwen. I had figured that he epic battle between the Bureau of Lwen and the Lwen Bureau must be a prime spot to cash in kills for creds. Right up until my first kill confirm. 3k. For an Annie. So, my Viper and I back in my home system, once again hunting for those elusive Cobra fish. RES after RES, Sideys abounded once more. I'd kill one or two, just to vent my frustration. Might have rammed some hapless miner flying a Type 9 with no shields to death just to pass the time, maybe. My memories a tad hazy on that. So there I was, sitting in a RES I was sure was just chocked to to brim with those little bastard sidewinders when I see it. An Ananconda. Scanning. Scanning. WANTED.

"Oh sweet baby jeebus, praise unto Braben and Gaben for this bounty that I am about to receive" I thought as I gleefully boosted towards the fight. The system authority ships and I spend a good five minutes hammering on this poor sumbitch. My rail cannons has gotten his power plant down to around 30% when it happens. Boom. and nothing. No kill, no bounty. Just a metric spaceton of rail cannon ammo expended with nothing to show for it. Just slightly dejected I cruise off looking for my next fight, assuming, hoping rather, that the rest of RES would be strewn with wanted Cobras, figuring that one Annie was a fluke. I'd never seen more than one wanted Annie at an RES. Until I saw my next one. Ahhh yeah son pappa's gunna have a hot time at the outfitters tonight. Once again I close in on that big beautiful lumbering pile of creds waiting to be cashed and once again we dance that deadly dance that I love so.

Power plants at 45. 30. 20. 15. BOOM.

AHHH HELL YE.no.no.no.noDAMNIT.

No kill.

Well. Hell. I'm calling it a day. My rail gun ammos all but spent and there's not a Condors chance in a black hole there's another Anaconda around here for me to try my hand at. I'm boosting out of mass lock when I see her. Off in the distance, high above the RES (or below, depending, cuz ya know, space) two points of light. I tell my ship "combat mode" and she obligingly drops pips into sys and weps. Lo, and behold. This RES is full of wanted Annies and this poor soul is out here above it all just waiting to tango with me. So I oblige her.

The sky above the asteroid ring is ablaze with laser fire chaff and flying missiles. I'm hammering on her with my beam lasers, hoping and praying my shield cells and chaff hold out till I can down this flying buffalo of a ship. Strafe, fire, boost FA off turn, fire, strafe some more. Round and round we go. The twisting and turning of the fight eventually brought us down into the fray of asteroids and authority ships. In out and around we weave a breathtaking ballet of laser fire plasma pulses and deadly asteroids. I've got this one. No ones putting as much fire into her as I am. I'm trying my damndest to put myself between the system authority ships and my prey. My shields are taking a hammering for it but damn it all I will have my bounty. Laser like focus guides my twin beams of death raking back and forth across her massive hull, cutting great burning grooves. My mind set on the hunt and my heart set on the kill, my eyes miss the little Eagle thats just dove in front of me. One of my beams glances of that little fuckers shields. Suddenly my sensors are awash in red blips. I am surrounded by System defense ships and one very pissed off annie who all want a piece of my hull.

Ok. Enough is enough, fate has it out for me and my poor abused Viper. I'm taking both of us back to the station to lick our wounds. We'll try again tomorrow. As I'm boosting free of the asteroid belt waiting for that sweet release from mass lock my sheilds go down. Hmphh, just more to add to today's bills I figure as my hull takes some hits. Then, with a sickening drop in my stomach, I remember. I have a whole 91 credits to my name. I'd blown most of my savings earlier on a new power plant. Now I didn't have enough to pay off the bounty on my head. The sole neutral station in this system doesn't have an outfitter either so I couldn't very well just sell off a rail gun to cover the cost and save my hide.

Hello rock. Long time no see there hard place.

No shields, my chaff and shield cells long since expended. A cloud of red blips and one angry Anaconda stood between me and my only shot at redemption; that big bitch had to die. Simultaneously cancelling the frame shift and dumping pips into engines and weapons, I waited for my baby to tell me frame shift cancelled then flipped flight assist off and boosted back towards the fray. It was time to put on my big boy bounty hunter pants and get the job done (Coincidentally bounty hunter pants come with a built in diaper, which is handy in moments like these). I dove straight back through the angry hive of cheesed off system authority ships with a pucker factor strong enough to squeeze out diamonds. Once through that swarm of waiting death as the last of their lasers glanced off my bruised and now badly battered hull I saw her. She was trying to make a run for it with the opening I'd given her by drawing everyone one else away. 5% hull. I screamed by her once at full boost pouring what fire I could into her while I had her in sight. Incoming fire from her blinded me momentarily and I lost track of her. Flipped flight assist off and swung around for what I dearly hoped would be the kill shot. She had changed course and was now barreling straight back into that cloud of System defense forces. I was going to lose my kill if I didn't do something fast. Boost. Fire.

BOOM.

91,340 bounty voucher.

I boosted straight back through that mob of vessels gunning for me and made it safely to super cruise with a tad over 50% hull left. I rocked back and forth in my seat a little to break the suction from the black hole amount of force my anus had been asserting on it and pondered how I was going to make into my home station without getting turned into debris. Well, I made it back home. Dunno, quite how as I've never been good about skulkin in and out of stations. I mostly leave that crap to those smuggler scum. Time to change my pants and settle down to good hard night of drinking. Until next time Commanders, Commader Amp1

The Last Part

I hope everyone enjoys the ending. Thanks to each of you for reading. I'm not completely done with this story, but it is complete now. I'm going to take a little break, then give the entire thing some editing, commission an art or two for it, and re-release it as a downloadable pdf.

I would love any feedback, as I can take it into consideration for the finalized version.

Hello, I feel the need to put a disclaimer on this part of the story. I would very much appreciate if you read this first, the link is below.

Disclaimer:
Before I begin, I would like to thank anyone reading this post, or who has already read any part of my story. Thank you for your interest, I truly appreciate it.

Warning: Graphic Content
As you are aware, this story includes adult content. But compared the previous parts I have posted, the adult content in Part Six is very dark. It is not my goal to offend anyone, but I am more than concerned that what I have written will inevitably do so. I can apologize in advance, if you read Part Six, or anything I have written, and are not happy with the experience; I am sorry. I would hope that if anyone is upset with me, they would speak their mind either in the comments section or via a Private Message if they prefer. Though I would ask everyone to please remain polite. I am always appreciative of feedback, positive or not.

So, assuming I haven't discouraged you completely...

Season Five, Part Six

Part One

Part Two

Blogspot is making me split this up. Once the second half is finished and posted I will put up a PDF download of the story in full.

Link

This is a sequel to my previous story Seeking Supplies in Korwei. Both stories are available to read and to download via the link above.

I apologize for the presentation on the blogspot site itself, and have included PDF downloads to remedy this.

Hopefully, I can get the next part out sooner than a year from now.

I've always enjoyed writing, but I've never really managed to create anything substantial - I always tend to get bogged down quickly, mostly when I attempt to world build!

To stop me getting bogged down, I decided to set my new story in the Elite universe - I've really enjoyed the freedom of the game, and would love to be able to contribute to the lore!

At the moment, I've written three chapters so far, with quite a few more planned. I've got an idea of where I want to go with the story, and it's just a matter of fleshing it out. I'd love any feedback, good or bad - the more constructive the better, of course!

I've done three chapters so far. Chapter one introduces a character that we'll see more of later (it's set in the present day and contains no elite references), but chapters two and three are about the other main character and that's set in the Elite: Dangerous timeline. If there are any inaccuracies in regards to the Elite world, please let me know!

Chapter 1:

https://jimdangereux.wordpress.com/2016/10/05/reheat-from-frozen-do-not-allow-to-thaw/

Chapter 2:

https://jimdangereux.wordpress.com/2016/10/05/reheat-from-frozen-do-not-allow-to-thaw-chapter-2/

Chapter 3:

https://jimdangereux.wordpress.com/2016/12/18/reheat-from-frozen-do-not-allow-to-thaw-chapter-3-2/

I docked at this station in the middle of nowhere. A seedy eyed mechanic told me carrying passengers was the next big thing, but that I'ld need a firmware update to get them installed.

Without hesitation, I installed the update and some cabins to get on board with the new hotness. I soon found out however, that it interfered with my planetary scanners (I can no longer see which rings are pristine), my cargo racks no longer function as they used to, and bases I'm allied with no longer talk to me much (can't get missions like I used to).

All in all, it feels like I got the brown end of the stick on this upgrade, but I set off in to the black for an exploration mission, since nothing else is working for me right now. Maybe half of the broken systems will have additional firmware updates by the time I get back... but as I edge closer to the bubble, all I hear on comms is other commanders lamenting the same problems. Oh well. Have to get this passenger home. Can't stay out here forever... or could I?

So there's I was, running missions, making sure everyone had plenty of food, medicine, and water purifiers, occasionally facing off with some pirate Lord and otherwise enjoying the galaxy. The Iowa class Anaconda, equipped with 8 cannons firing high explosive shells, room for about 250 tons of cargo, a first class cabin I call "10 forward" is fit for any task. Or so I thought.

Seeing the white dwarf emerge from the end of the which space tunnel, I thought, oh, one of those... Throttle down, turn the ship and fly away. Mr. Dwarf wasn't having it. My ship would turn, throttling only brought me closer. So I drifted slowly into the event horizon struggling like a water snake in a falcons talons, out of its element and helpless.

I didn't know my ship was so capable in the warning me something is wrong department. Check that off on the list of things the Anaconda does well. Now that I was in the falcons nest (the white dwarf) it was time to be eaten. It was a long, slow, and horrific process. As it must feel to watch ones self get eaten alive. I even had time to do an EVA and watch the what dwarf remind me that a mighty Anaconda is spec of dust to the universe and I should know my place.

I never stopped struggling. Had time to search the Galnet for a solution. My efforts were in vain. I shut down all non essential systems and simply watched the glory as my ship was tossed about. Ultimately, I ran out of oxygen before my hull was crushed and I wondered just how the Pilot's Federation was going to retrieve my escape pod this time.

Follygon returned to the shipyard, and the allotment reserved for his own ships. To this day he couldn't believe that Jameson Memorial let him store these ships for free, but wouldn't let him leave 15 tonnes of modular terminals in private storage, 'unbelievable' he thought. The memory of discarding those still pains him to this day. Folly began the long walk through his allotment. At the fore was his pride "Suprise", a Vette with no shortage of scars that she wore with pride. Folly walked past her, surprising himself as he handn't looked past Surprise in months. Most of the ships were covered, giving them shadowy appearance in the dimly lit hangar. Areas not covered were oft in disarray, entire components missing, mid operation for repair or replacement. Abandoned patients for the lack of Folly's patience.

Folly wandered on, he was searching for something he knew not. Something forgotten, feeling for the void. 'Nothing' he thought, as he reached the end of the allotment. 'Better head on back to...' a silhouette caught his eye. A refined shape in the darkest part of the hangar. The cover only served to add a sort of modesty to her lines. Folly smiled, he knew what he would be flying. His old squeeze. There is no doubt about it, Folly felt guilty. The ship is inanimate he knew, but he still wanted forgiveness. He had dressed her up, and promised to take her to see the galaxy. Maybe even have some "work" done by these engineers who started popping up so long ago. This was all before he was lured away with the promise of Federal glory and Imperial profit.'Let's do that first, Felicity Farseer would love to meet you' he thought. Folly patted the dashboard. Magnetic Emitter Coils were loaded up and added Chemical Manipulators to the shopping list. Folly knew Felicity would want them, 'best not disappoint'.

"Ship released" familiar words with an unfamiliar feeling. A joy long forgotten. There is a subtle grace to her movements, 'she doesn't like to tango, she likes to waltz'. Indeed Folly felt downright classy as he left the station with his squeeze. Folly considered himself a decent CMDR, maybe a little more than he should. But in her hands. In her hands he was the best goddamn pilot in the galaxy.

Folly had entered the ballroom with his squeeze. They took their first step, "hard-points deployed". The Navigation beacon was teaming with ships. Folly spotted a likely dancing partner and proceeded towards them. 'No luck' Folly thought, as their third dance partner relinquished their goods to the void. No Chemical Manipulators. Something was wrong though. All eyes were on Folly and his squeeze, the dance had stalled. Folly check his comms, only to find a barrage of cargo queries. A barrage to be quickly followed by another more literal kind. 'Everyone wants to dance, and that's just fine' Folly thought.

"This is not fine" Folly desperately asks his squeeze for more. "Does this look like a goddamn cargo ship?" he screams. 'It is certainly turning like one,' he needed her to keep up. He needed more from her. She could dance with a few ships at a time, but the sensors were crowded with dance partners and Folly lost count. No sooner had Folly brought her to bear they would be behind him. Shield cells popped. Heat-sinks sunk. Bulkheads bursting. Charging frame of reference.

Folly watched the covers drape over "Dawn", a DeLacy Python. He turned his attention back to "Surprise" and smiled.

TLDR:

• No storage sucks
• The python is the best ship in the game
• NPC's need to cool their jets with regards to cargo (or at least fight each other for it)
• The python is the worst ship in the game
• Python isn't a goddamn cargo ship
• Didn't die, still complaining

17 October 3302, 00:53
Ceos 7 Resource Extraction Site, Ceos System

The rings loomed ahead of my ship as the ETA timer ticked down from 00:05s. Even with my speed in the blue, it always made me nervous approaching a belt. Hitting an asteroid at 730km/s wouldn't even give me time to eject, but my wallet was running thin - the payout from Morai long since frittered away on fuel, firepower, and FSD upgrades - so I'd fitted a fuel scoop and launched myself out to Sothis ahead of rumors that the Feds were preparing to audit the payment practices of the managing faction in the system.

It didn't take long to gain the trust of the key players. 400LY from the bubble, reliable help that didn't turn right back around for civilization with a cargo hold full of biowaste was hard to find. But somewhere between Sothis Mining and New Dawn Station, someone in the Federal Bureaucracy must have taken note of my laughable combat rank in the Pilot's Federation and decided that, what the hell, it couldn't hurt to ask if I could aim my Python at a handful of wannabe pirates in sidewinders, adders, eagles, and maybe a viper or two while I was in the area. The pay was good, the risk was low, and they even offered up a rank in the Auxiliary Navy to sweeten the deal.

Now, I wasn't the biggest fan of their political practices, but I thought, it would be nice to visit Earth one day, and I've always wanted to see what sort of havoc I could wreak in a Gunship - might as well shred a few novice fighter pilots playing at piracy while I'm here. How hard could it be?

And so here I was, dropping in 13km above an asteroid belt and scanning an Asp for a positive ID before unleashing hell. The whole site was a mess - wings of pirates swarming anything that moved in hopes of a nice haul of painite, but there was a strange sort of honor to the operation. If you didn't have any cargo, they didn't want any trouble, and they wouldn't stick their necks out for anyone in trouble. It made my job easy.

Well at least, it was supposed to make my job easy. But when the Asp popped and my combat alarms were still screaming warnings at me, I knew something was up. I looked down at my radar and jammed my thumb on the chaff button in panic - three contacts, on my six, flashing like Christmas lights. The hell were they attacking me for? The asp wasn't in a wing. I glanced over at my contact list to see what I was up against while I attempted to bring the Python around - two sidewinders and an adder, all pissed off and screaming death over the comms because I wouldn't drop my cargo.

"What cargo?" I said out loud, glancing over to my cargo screen while I diverted power to engines and shields. I swore audibly when my inventory opened: Nanobreakers: 4. The cheap bastards back in New Dawn had opted to load my ship with some free goods instead of paying in straight credits, and now I was pirate bait. And no matter what I did to twist and turn my python around, I could not shake the tiny little bastards hammering away at my tail.

My shields collapsed. I decided a few pirates weren't worth dying for and boosted out of the field, waiting for the little blue mass lock indicator to switch off so I could charge my FSD. And then, my ship rumbled, shuddered, and began spinning uncontrollably as a lucky railgun slug ripped through my drive core, taking my engines with it. Panicked, I did the only thing I could and raced for the "reboot/repair" option, hoping that my ship could bring itself back online before this trio of anklebiters nipped me to shreds.

Where the hell was the system security patrol, I wondered as a multicannon ripped its way up my ship's back. And then I saw it, as my ship flickered back to life: Report Crimes - Off.

I must have been smoking onionhead - I'd been smuggling stolen trade data into Ray Gateway before I came out to Sothis and never turned my distress beacons back on. I flipped the switch and waited for the cavalry as my drives roared back to life. Not a minute later, they arrived: five clicks out and demanding all ships stand down and prepare for scanning. I checked my hull as my shields came back online and died again - 25% and falling. Not a chance the security vipers would save me if I kept trying to flee.

I'd gained just enough distance on the pirates that they didn't expect my ship to flip over backwards as I drained my engine capacitor and re-deployed hardpoints. I only had a few seconds to unload everything I had, and my flip lined me up nicely with one of the poor bastards in a sidewinder. He didn't stand a chance, but I caught a quick glimpse of his personal data and stopped breathing as the other two ships roared past, blowing more holes in my ship.

Sidewinder - Blinky Longshot - Elite - Mission Target

The hell with this, I muttered, this was supposed to be an easy hunt. My shields came back online as the other pirates circled around and the security vipers opened fire from ahead.

10% hull. Time to go. I flipped the switch to charge the FSD.

CANNOT COMPLY: FRAME SHIFT DRIVE MALFUNCTION

God. Fucking. Damnit.

I couldn't afford to drop my shields, but even with security close, if I stuck around waiting for them to dispatch the pirates, someone else would see an easy target. So I boosted my ship towards the nav marker for Sothis and rebooted my python again, praying that she'd hold together for another few seconds. The vipers roared past, firing at the pirates. More shots ripped into my hull. My HUD flickered slowly back to life and I tapped the FSD switch as fast as I possibly could, watching my hull slowly dwindle away as the FSD crept towards liftoff and my ship's alarms screamed at me to do something about all the module malfunctions.

My canopy blew out just before I felt the ship surge into witchspace. My instruments went haywire, but the ship held together as I warped across the galaxy towards Newholm Station.

1% hull integrity remaining. The dock manager was incredulous.

"What the hell happened?" he asked as I disembarked.

"Doesn't matter," I said, "Just fix it, please."

"It's going to cost," he said as I headed towards the Pilot's Lounge. As soon as my python was repaired, I was going to annihilate every last sidewinder I could find around Ceos 7, and then I was going to haul whatever biowaste I could find back to civilization.

"Don't care how much it costs," I responded. "Just fix it. And while you're at it, find me a buyer for those stupid nanobreakers in what's left of my cargo bay!"

Well that was interesting. Doing some cheap courier missions while I have higher risk donation missions sitting in my cargo racks. Seemed like it would just be a little extra money on the way. That's when "ships have been dispatched against you" notifications start appearing.

Okay, I'll just run until I get to my destination, that's no problem. Until it's a FDL with twice your speed. Well poop. Okay, let's shake him. Dropping from supercruise. Illicit cargo, but I turn on report crimes against me anyway. I mean, it's an FDL with bounty, it has to be worth more than the fine on these 20 tons of tobacco.

"Drop your cargo and I might let you live" -- sure thing buddy... Full power to shields and weapons. Cut thrust to zero. Flight assist off. Going spinny ball of death. Hardpoints deployed. Just tank him until the police show up.

I have his shields to about 20% with mine sitting at a comfortable 80% when he decides to ram. "Oh, well that was a good idea. Okay." Power to shields and thrusters. Boost now.

0 to 50 on shields. And the police arrive. Beautiful. Now I'll just take a couple of pokes at him, scoop up his materials when his ship explodes, and take my fine.