Profil komandéra Commander-Wingnut > Deník

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Coffey's Mug [haxcup]
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15. 12. 2017
 
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Mug Shot

The Pre-Flight Checklist --:-:-- Youtube Video

Hey guys - just as a way of saying "Thank You!" for reading this far into the short-story collection of my adventures in Elite:Dangerous, I'd like to take a moment and show you around the flight simulator rig I've built for playing the game. Once you've had a chance to check it out, the story continues below.

Fly safe out there, Commanders! o7

Travis English - CMDR Wingnut

--:-:--

Near the Coriolis Starport -::- "Nelson City," Aongi System -::- 10 DEC 3302

When CMDR Wingnut released the hatch to Cell 16 in the cargo hold, what looked like a tin coffee cup tumbled out and landed on the floor.

At the same time, the entire ship rocked violently to one side, bucking Wingnut head-first into a bulkhead. Swearing violently, he righted himself, braced tensely for another impact.

When whatever it was that had hit the ship didn't seem about to come back for more, he relaxed.

"What in the hell?"

Once he saw the logo of Hutton Orbital printed on its side - he understood.

"Aw, fuck me."

--:-:--

enter image description here

You see, Hutton Orbital had a peculiar place in our galaxy. Though it was only 0.22 light-years from the Sol system (putting it smack dab in the center of the Bubble), the outpost was so distant from its home star Alpha Centauri, that a journey to it could take hours - even though (in strictly galactic terms) it was right around the corner from Earth.

Wingnut had brought a passenger there once, months ago. Now he was returning with his old friend CMDR Hope of the Bellator Honestus.

To celebrate this journey, a wandering spacer often with a coffee cup pressed from the Frame Shift Drive plates of derelict spaceships - of which there were many to find.

These plates were a form of metal with the electrons stripped and super-compressed to a critical mass, which made them highly effective gravitational magnets (a property which could both facilitate and interfere with hyper-light travel). The gift that CMDR Hope had showered him just now was more of a burdensome prank - each of the 24 canisters now occupying his cargo hold had a single Hutton Mug in it.

And each mug weighed one tonne.

--:-:--

Wingnut eyed the handle, and cautiously gave it a tug. It didn't even budge.

Bracing himself, he at least made a meritorious effort to drag it along the cargo floor. He might as well have been trying to drag a 21st century Ford truck one-handed. With the parking brake on.

So he tried again, with both.

"GnnnnnnnnnnnnNNNNNNNNNHHHH!!"

It remained as if welded there.

Huffing, he released the mug, massaged his back with one hand and chuffed. "Fuck. Me."

He was gonna need a pallet jack and a long straw.

Return To Stargazer Observatory

Stargazer Observatory --:-:-- Maia System, Pleiades Nebula --:-:-- 7 DEC 3303

--:-:--

Stargazer had long since gotten their shit together since Wingnut had last visited. Then, the burdened skeleton crew had been in lockdown and provided the most essential of starport services. The last Thargoid attack had been weeks ago, and life slowly returned to normal.

Now the asteroid base was back under construction and already functioning in its role as an interstellar observatory. By the time Wingnut left, he had dumped over 300 kilocreds of raw minerals and elements collected from the rings of a nearby gas giant, into a now-burgeoning Commodities Market.

Atlas Research, the new owners of the station after buying out the Stargazer Pioneer, was very pleased with the shot in the arm Wingnut's delivery had given their economy. Atlas' traffic controller cordially waved his ship out the door, wishing Wingnut luck on his trip back.

It was on the return to the Merope System that Radio Sidewinder reconnected and began to play the ending strains of a mellow retrochip lullaby.

As the music faded, the FTLR jockey broke into urgent report, and the word "Thargoid" snapped Wingnut out of his hyperspace hypnosis.

As the Copperhead Road hummed happily along its corridor of dilated time, her commander listened to the grim voice with growing interest.

--:-:--

When the Copperhead Road flashed into normal space several elles from the blazing white surface of Merope, CMDR Wingnut immediately opened a connection to the Orbis starport "Reed's Rest" - where the Bellator Honestus was presently docked.

To CMDR Hope, he forwarded the Radio Sidewinder data report that had been stapled to the broadcast, along with links to related GALNET inquiries. The message from Wingnut, itself, was only three lines of simple datatext.

--:-:--

[ CA-420 ] - [ WH-15KY ]

They're still here.

The Empire isn't winning.

You need more pilots.

--:-:--

A few moments later, another series of flash messages was sent to the Bellator Honestus.

The stapled nav data identified this as Pleiades Sector IR-W d1-55. The data packet itself contained images taken from the Copperhead Road's suite of shipboard sensors and remote camera drones. The derelict he had discovered was a Megaship - the Sanchez-class science vessel ZIG-097.

Legally, these images data belonged to the Canonn Interstellar Research Group, Wingnut's present employer, and was considered highly confidential. Wingnut was taking an enormous risk sending it to an Imperial commander, especially one who held the rank of Count.

enter image description here

--:-:--

The Sanchez-Class science vessel ZIG-097 was a Megaship. Although it had not been part of Wingnut's tour of the older Generation Ships, he had made a stopover at this particular vessel a visit only four weeks ago on his way to Maia.

Everything had been cheerful and normal. And now... the smoldering, irradiated derelict was nothing more an inconveniently enormous navigational hazard.

This was the fate that Stargazer Observatory had been so terrified of when the Thargoids last came to visit. The Sanchez, on the other hand, had not kept so low a profile. The sinister photography spoke for itself, this much was clear - the Thargoid strategy had changed again. They had stopped ignoring Megaships.

The Gnosis' strategic camouflage had lost all of its value overnight.

In other words, she was no longer safe.

enter image description here

--:-:--

[ CA-420 ] - [ WH-15KY ]

And apparently, so do we.

The Returned - And the Late Fee

Trinh Enterprise --:-:-- Chacobog System --:-:-- 5 DEC 3303

--:-:--

[ TRINH ] - [ ????? ]: Approaching ship, transponder CA420, this is "Trinh Enterprise." Please be advised that your tail number matches a Canonn Research ship missing as of about three weeks ago.

Do you need us to assign you a new one?

[ CA-420 ] - [ TRINH ]: That's a negative, Trinh, but thank you. This is Commander Wingnut English of the CIRG "Copperhead Road." Situation is normal, just had to take a little detour. Please send the flash. Can I come in?"

--:-:--

Please

Information processing had reached a plateau centuries ago, having reached the point where it simply could not happen any faster. The next big hurdle had been scale - processing information across a network the size of a galaxy.

send

Once FTL communications tech had emerged (in the days before even INRA), the problem was already solved. Before Wingnut had even formed the period on the end of his request, the processors scrubbing his transmission had acted.

the

Contextualizing his words, the processors aboard the Coriolis starport's flight control tower gleaned instructions, verified the voiceprint, kicked into a subroutine, filled out a standard Pilot Status Update form letter, and broadcast it to a listening post.

The system even had the presence to staple onto the end a copy of the last day's worth of telemetry data, to confirm that the commander of the ship was not in medical distress. (The cost of insurance claims made this all but mandatory.)

flash

The closest GALNET-sponsored authority server, upon receiving this information through some spooky-ass quantum-entanglement sorcery, immediately cross-referenced a public document simply titled; "THE MISSING," found CMDR English, Wingnut - and quietly updated the entry. It would quietly disappear as the updates proliferated throughout the galaxy.

That server then sent a basic green-light signal back through the listening posts to Trinh Enterprise indeed confirming that their man was alive and well.

.

All the communications officer aboard Trinh Enterprise's flight control tower had to do was look down at her terminal and glance at the green light that had suddenly lit.

--:-:--

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[ TRINH ] - [ CA-420 ]: Welcome back to Canonn space, Commander. A lot of us around here were starting to worry. The flash is out, and your landing clearance is granted for Pad 16. Starport protocols, of course.

--:-:--

Unfortunately, as soon as Trinh Enterprise received the backflash, so did the Galactic Bank of Commerce (quantum entanglement transmitters unfortunately do not discriminate).

GALBANK was just as quick in re-opening his credit file.

When Wingnut came back from the dead ... so too did his crippling debt.

Overdue - The Woeful Wheedle of Would Y'All Yiddle-Yee-Yodel

CMDR Wudyal Yiddelyiyodul

was a very unfortunate man, and he lived a very stressful life because of this fact.

The first burden he had to suffer were his parents - a small-time pirate king in the Maia system, who had kidnapped and eloped with an Imperial slave, his parents' names had been Yiddish and Yoppa.

And then as if the family name had not been flattering to begin with - while high on Onionhead, Yiddish had demanded of his wife that their child be named Wudyal, after a distant grandparent.

Needless to say, Wudyal knew his days at the Pilots Federation Youth Academy would be numbered when every class he was introduced to, tittered uncontrollably as he stood there at the front of the room. Roll Call. Every single day. It had been an unbearable nightmare.

As you might know it, "Would y'all yiddle ye yodel" was known by many nicknames - because quite frankly, getting it right involved a serious mouthful of funny syllables, and getting it wrong was far funnier. The bullies loved their little outbursts of creativity.

"Little Yiddly," "Diddle," and "The Yodeller" were only a few of the monikers with which he was relentlessly teased.

So after graduating from the Academy and joining the Ant Hill Mob as a trader of questionable virtue, he soon found himself seething with pent-upresentment and quickly descended into outright piracy.

Old Man Yiddish and his lady Yoppa were not impressed with his career choice, knowing full well the dangers in today's galaxy. At every opportunity, they urged the youngest of the Yiddelyiyoduls to come to his senses.

On 4 DEC 3303, though, Wudyal realized that however rich and interesting his life had become, this story was not about him.

--:-:--

enter image description here

With a sonic boom that rattled the frame of his ship, Wudyal found himself dropping out of witch-space with an Anaconda glued to his tail.

The Anaconda, tail number WH-15KY, was the Bellator Honestus - piloted by none other than CMDR Steven Hope of the Imperial Space Service.

Wudyal knew it was far too much ship for his Cobra Mk.III to take on, and his engines flared as he tried to accelerate to a safe distance. It was far too late for him.

As the Bellator descended on him, hardpoints deployed and several capital-grade Pulse Lasers smashed his shields flat with only a few solid hits. The Cobra began to gyrate in panic as he tried to evade.

It was then he realized that the enormous ship, three times his size, had deployed - a cargo scoop?

In a moment of terror, Wudyal contemplated the odds of the Anaconda devouring him into its cargo bay - an outright abduction?

Something screamed past him as the Bellator peeled away. That was no cargo scoop, it was a fighter bay.

The distinctive exhaust pattern of a Faulcon Delacy Taipan fighter (Type GELID G) flashed across his canopy, and it took everything it took not to scream in abject terror. The Anaconda, he could out-maneuver. But not this!!

His only chance was to run.

Wudyal Yiddelyiyodul jinked one way - hard.

The Taipan peeled away the other - even harder.

The little fighter began to loop back on him like a falcon seeking a rabbit, describing a tight circuit with its exhaust trail. Its small size and butterfly-like aspect belied the terrible power charging towards its quarry.

The Bellator Honestus had stopped firing. This was not a good sign.

Overcharged Beam Lasers, engineered specifically to slice pieces of hull metal, lanced from the Taipan. This time, Wudyal's composure did crack - moments before the canopy did.

His helmet deployed as air rushed out of the cockpit, only prolonging the inevitable. His body, buffeted by a sudden hurricane, broke the genuine Saskatchewan sealskin seatbelts on his flight chair, and he tumbled helplessly into the void.

A split second later, his Cobra disintegrated with a bright blue flash.

Little Yiddly's life as a yodelling rogue ended as quickly and quietly as we first learned of it. Yiddish and Yoppa Yiddelyiyodul would spend the rest of their lives wishing they had gotten through to him before the Bellator Honestus had gotten through with him.

--:-:--

[ HELIX ] - [ BELLA ]: That's six of six, Bella. Our mission here is done. I'm requesting permission to dock.

[ BELLA ] - [ HELIX ] Roger that, Commander. Good kill, call the ball and bring her on home.

[ HELIX ] - [ BELLA ] I've got the ball. Coming in fast, be ready.

enter image description here

--:-:--

Unlike the Diamondback Explorer and its sisters, the Anaconda is an enormous vessel - one of the smallest ones that can still qualify as a capital ship.

In case you weren't already aware, they have many, many stairs.

As the Taipan's elevator locked back into place, its canopy was already opening. The pilot, his face masked by an opaque combat flight helmet, was running as soon as his boots touched the floor, and he wound his way around the stairwell as fast as anyone could run on a bucking, rolling ship.

In less than a minute, CMDR Hope could hear the bridge doors behind him burst open, and the pilot of his ship-launched fighter leapfrogged over the back of the navigator's chair, landing in it with a solid "oof."

The fighter pilot was out of breath. Six times he had similarly leapt out of his chair, ran to the fighter, mounted it and launched.

Six times he had sliced a ship to pieces, landed back in the bay, and dismounted.

Six times, he had ran just as quickly back like this, panting and heaving, in time for the Bellator's next hyperspace jump.

It was tiring work.

"Great stuff out there, Commander," said Hope. "We're gonna get along just fine."

The fighter pilot's helmet unbuckled, unfolded, and vanished - the Lexite bubble collapsing into its housing around the collar of his flight suit. His face was creased with exhaustion, and sweat dripped freely from forehead and soaked his mutton chops.

"You too, Commander," replied CMDR Wingnut English. "Looks like our little yank'n'gank operation is gonna get you rich. Let's get our asses back to Reed's Rest - I still gotta pay the man."

Hope grinned. "A deal's a deal. Let's get together again sometime."

"Looking forward to it, sir. That was a fun ride."

The Missing

[ GNOSIS ] - [ CA-420 ] [[ REPEAT ]] CA-420 Copperhead Road, CMDR Wingnut English. This is Gnosis Flight Control. Please acknowledge at your earliest opportunity. We will monitor this band for 24 hours. [ 16 / 24 ]

[ CA-420 ] - NO CONNECTION

--:-:--

[ GNOSIS ] - [ CA-420 ] [[ REPEAT ]] CA-420 Copperhead Road, CMDR Wingnut English. This is Gnosis Flight Control. Please acknowledge at your earliest opportunity. We will monitor this band for 24 hours. [ 24 / 24 ]

[ CA-420 ] - NO CONNECTION

--:-:--

[ GNOSIS ] - [ TRINH ] CA-420 Copperhead Road, CMDR Wingnut English

Status: Telemetry connection terminated. [24 hours]

Last known location: Merope system, Pleiades Nebula

--:-:--

[ TRINH ] - [ GNOSIS ] Record: CA-420 Copperhead Road, CMDR Wingnut English

Commander data added to GALNET public document [THE MISSING]

You will not be forgotten.

[THIS MESSAGE WILL EXPIRE IN 30 DAYS]

The Lost

Galactic News --:-:-- Galactic Authorities Call for Calm --:-:-- 18 NOV 3303

--:-:--

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As reports continue to pour in of Thargoid attacks, the galaxy’s leaders have issued statements urging the public to remain calm.

In a missive released to a number of news feeds, Emperor Arissa Lavigny-Duval said:

“It is true that the Thargoids represent a pertinent threat, but it is important that we understand the scale of this threat. At present, they are active only in the Pleiades Nebula, and there is no reason to believe they will spread beyond this area. Indeed, it is entirely possible that they lack the numbers to do so.”

Federation President Zachary Hudson adopted a similar stance, while making an allusion to Federal-Imperial solidarity:

“They haven’t set foot outside the Pleiades, and if they do, we have the means to deal with them. With the Federation and the Empire working together, there is no enemy we cannot overcome. The galactic community has nothing to fear.”

But the buoyancy of these statements was undercut by Admiral Aden Tanner, Aegis’s chief military liaison, who offered the following assessment to The Federal Times:

“We have no intelligence regarding the Thargoids’ long-term plans, and it would be premature – if not irresponsible – to assert that they will remain in the Pleiades. I can assure you, however, that this is a matter Aegis is actively investigating.”

[ THIS MESSAGE WILL EXPIRE IN 30 DAYS ]

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--:-:--

Merope System --:-:-- Pleiades Nebula --:-:-- 22 NOV 3303

--:-:--

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[ GNOSIS ] - [ CA420 ] Copperhead Road, this is Gnosis Flight Control. Departure from Merope to Meene is scheduled in five days. As you are scheduled for first interdiction shift following the jump, please be sure to return to the Megaship before that time.

[ CA-420 ] - NO CONNECTION

[ GNOSIS ] - [ CA-420 ] ?

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[ CA-420 ] - NO CONNECTION

[ GNOSIS ] - [ CA-420 ] ?

[ CA-420 ] - NO CONNECTION

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--:-:--

[ GNOSIS ] - [ CA-420 ] CMDR English, we do not have you on our scopes at this time. Your wing beacon may be having an issue. Are you in distress?

[ CA-420 ] - NO CONNECTION

[ GNOSIS ] - [ CA-420 ] CA-420 Copperhead Road, CMDR Wingnut English. This is Gnosis Flight Control. Please acknowledge at your earliest opportunity. We will monitor this band for 24 hours.

[ CA-420 ] - NO CONNECTION

--:-:--

[ GNOSIS ] - [ CA-420 ] [[ REPEAT ]] CA-420 Copperhead Road, CMDR Wingnut English. This is Gnosis Flight Control. Please acknowledge at your earliest opportunity. We will monitor this band for 24 hours. [ 1 / 24 ]

[ CA-420 ] - NO CONNECTION

The Gnosis and You - A Primer to the Major Model of a Very Modern Megaship

enter image description here

Madisyn Winters --:-:-- Founder, Cannon Interstellar Research Group

on using the Megaship Gnosis as a mobile base of operations

--:-:--

"It is no small secret by now that the Thargoid use a sophisticated shutdown device to interfere with the operational capabilities of other spacecraft.

It is also no smaller a secret that our countermeasures fail to scale up to even medium-sized capital ships. Thargoid ships will not hesitate to disable those vessels using multiple such devices simultaneously.

Conversely, the shutdown device is only effective against one target at a time. This presents a vulnerability to a Thargoid vessel, who can more easily be overwhelmed by even a small group of fighters. Since a wing of fighters can continue to attack even as some of their numbers are "switched off," this forces the Thargoid ships to focus on the larger threats first - the bigger or better-armed ones.

This has been a cause for concern in deploying any Megaships in direct combat against the Thargoids, as both the Empire and the Federation have been painfully learning.

Canonn's approach using the Gnosis is slightly different.

--:-:--

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This Megaship takes on the unthreatening posture of a space station, an unarmed Generation Ship, or even a massive floating freighter derelict, to effectively camouflage its strategic importance against the Thargoid. Without weapon signatures to alert them, the Thargoid vessels will typically ignore the Megaship itself - as they have before, with the Orbis and Coriolis starports, and the husk of the Lazarus Expedition.

Instead of weapon emplacements and traditional countermeasures, the Gnosis depends almost solely upon an onboard contingent of armed, independent pilots pledged to her promptest defense. Once there remains no immediate threat, the Gnosis can then perform its next scheduled hyperlight jump, instantly highlighting the most fundamental difference between it and your typical 22nd century Generation Ship.

In exchange for the pilots' service, the ship offers free garrison, transportation to any system on its flight schedule, an onboard drydock facility with weapons outfitter, and an Universal Cartographics info-exchange."

[ THIS MESSAGE WILL EXPIRE IN 30 DAYS ]

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Betelgeuse, Betelgeuse, Betelgeuse

Betelgeuse 1 --:-:-- Alpha Orionis System --:-:-- 14 NOV 3303

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--:-:--

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--:-:--

On Earth, the sun is an impressive distance away. One Astronomical Unit (AU), was the distance from Sol to Earth. This span was approximately 8 light-minutes, or 480 Ls across.

This was right in the zone to make for some occasionally pleasant weather down on the little blue planet we all know and love.

If Wingnut had been standing on the surface of Earth and held a dime up at arm's length while enjoying some of that occasionally pleasant weather, his coin would have blocked the entire star.

Needless to say, Betelgeuse was a LOT closer to the Gnosis than that. And it was also much hotter, as well. Wingnut would need a slab of nickel at least two meters across, twenty centimeters thick, to take shelter from this screaming red ball of rage.

Even aboard the Canonn Megaship Gnosis, the hum of overburdened climate processors did little to stem the tide of sweat, grease, and baking plastic.

--:-:--

"We're only here for another three hours, Commander," reassured the Marine assigned to escort Wingnut to the Overseer's office. "It won't be this hot for longer."

"Easy for you to say," he grumbled. "You've had a chance to acclimatize. This is gonna be the longest three hours of my life. Cheebus, it's like a damn sauna in here."

The Marine chuckled wryly, knowing full well there was a distinctively salty pong to his own flight suit. "We're not on vacation, sir. You'll be getting reminded plenty of that. You ever been to Merope?"

"Yeah. Felicity Farseer sent me. She wanted a tin of Meta-Alloys to study."

"Huh! No shit, eh? So did you pick them up at Darnielle's Progress, or...?"

"No. There wasn't any on the market. Me and a CMFE mercenary went straight to one of the Barnacle Fields and harvested it right at the source."

The Marine let out a low whistle. "Did ya run into the Bug out there?"

"In and out. No trouble at all."

"Ever have?"

"Once. A month ago. I think I was looking for the Colonia Highway, when one of them hyperdicted me. Yanked me right outta jump and started playing with my ship."

"Obviously you killed it or got away."

Wingnut shrugged, watching the floors zip past through the elevator window. "The latter. It was a Type-6 by the name of "Lady Cheyenne." Definitely not up to that job."

"Ee-yep." The doors hissed open. Wingnut stepped out into the bustling lobby first, followed by his uniformed chaperon. "Gotta know when to throw the first punch, when to throw the last one - and when to ditch your cards and run."

--:-:--

He was in the middle of a conversation with the Gnosis Division Marine when the announcement sounded.

The Marine was already plugging his ears and forcing a yawn, before cracking a broad smile. "Better do what the man says. You're about to hear the witch-space song."

Puzzled, Wingnut hesitated a moment and asked; "Hear the what, now?"

-

The universe flashed, and the Gnosis was gone.

The giant star Betelgeuse, alone again, continued to bellow in its purest, most inchoate orange fury.

-

AAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRAAGH!

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHH!

FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU~

YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGHH!

WAAAAAAAAAAUUUUUUUUGGHH!

-

When Wingnut came to, a horrible cacophony assaulted his ears - the sound of more than three hundred people screaming in a hellish harmony. His eyes shot open, and he glanced around in terror.

The Marine was screaming. The spaceport valet was screaming. The information clerks were locked in an embrace - both screaming. All of the passengers freshly disembarked were screaming.

Every single person in the lobby around him was at a full shriek, screaming the long, breathless cry of a person who had suddenly found themselves in free fall or surprised by a clown with a machete.

But none of these things had happened.

There were no bodies. Nobody was fighting or running. There was nothing burning. The Gnosis was still, and there was no emergency - not even a flicker from the humming lights. As far as he could tell, the Megaship had not even moved.

And yet - CMDR Wingnut too realized that one of the hundreds of voices joined in this unholy chorus was his own - he too was screaming, and had no idea why!

Five seconds of this unholy chorus continued to harmonize, before the noise finally began to abate. Wingnut himself was left breathless and very, very bewildered. Around him, people gathered their composure.

Breaths were caught. Lungfuls of air gulped. Hysterical panting subsided. The last paralyzing screech warbled off, terminating with a loud gasp.

And amazingly, everyone milling about simply picked up their things and carried on with what they were doing. It was as though none of it had even happened. The only one still frozen in place was a wide-eyed Wingnut.

Around the two men, life carried on.

The Marine exhaled, and his voice was hoarse as a frog.

"Wow. Business as usual, eh?"

--:-:--

"Wht..." Wingnut croaked "... the frk was tht?"

His throat was unbelievably raw, as if he had been tearing it out with sandpaper.

"Well, scaling up Frame Shift tech means scaling up the energy output, right? And it's a square law. So when you need to move something the mass of a Megaship and everything it's carrying at super-relativistic velocities, there are inevitably gonna be side effects.

Well, it takes the FSD capacitors four hours to spin up to speed, so that means you get the Funnybones. And then all that energy discharges - and this happens."

"Scrmng tho? Fckn srusly?"

"We actually don't know what triggers that reflex, honestly, as there is absolutely no danger whatsoever in these jumps. It's a symptom that drives the doctors nuts, and the therapists can't get enough of it. See, it happens to everyone aboard the ship - doesn't matter if it's your first time, or even if you're the goddamn Captain, four thousand jumps and all.

Aboard the Gnosis, everybody 'sings.'

Now, there's no actual trauma involved, no actual pain, and you're not even conscious for the jump. No nerves, no neuro. Everything short of a standing flat-line. You just stand there - screaming, I guess."

"Hw lng?"

"Well, time dilation is a really funny thing. You're only aware of the last five seconds of the jump, during the landing and cooldown process. But we've actually been singing the witch-space song for the entire trip."

"Hw.... lnnnng??"

"About four and a half hours straight. You didn't even have time to take a breath."

".... fck me."

"Oh, relax. Your throat will feel better by morning."

Confrontation At Chacobog

[ FSD Interdiction detected ] intoned the AI voice of the UNSS Copperhead Road, just as the cockpit shuddered.

Superspace began to warp as the gravitational tether seized the ship, and she began to decelerate violently.

"Oh, hello. Another voucher for McQuinn."

Wingnut's response was measured and almost automatic - his hands danced across the cockpit. To Tatiana's amazement, the first thing he did was slam back on the throttle, effectively submitting to the Cobra Mk.III that was pursuing them.

-

One ship flashed out into normal space, and a second later came the next.

"Surprised you made it this far with that kinda haul," crackled the pirate's voice on Direct Comms. "You want to live. I want four tonnes of your cargo.

You have ten seconds to decide which is more important. Nine. Eight."

Though the ships were still, facing one another in front of the angry red sun, Wingnut was moving with an almost casual urgency - much like a well-practiced concert pianist playing a challenging piece.

First, his left thumb hit the thrust reverse switch. A toggle at the base of the stick disengaged the Flight Assist. Then, a strong haul spun the Copperhead to face the ship Two clicks on the hat switch to prioritize power for engines and weapons.. Three clicks down the finger-wheel selected his loadout. A flick of his other thumb uncaged a glowing red switch.

And then he waited.

-

"Three."

Tatiana stared over the chair at the screen. She could feel a drop of sweat trickle down her temple.

"Two."

Wingnut whistled a tune - it was unfamiliar to her, but we in 2017 would (probably) have recognized it as the ominous melody from A Fistful of Dollars.

Deedle-leedle-loooooo

"One."

Wingnut's whistling became a menacingly low-key, three note hum.

Dun, DUN, dunnnnnnnn

-

The pirate's ship twitched first, an effort to look menacing. If he'd said anything, it was cut off by a sudden scream from the Copperhead's engine.

Wingnut had slammed the throttle full open, and with his other thumb hit the button glowing underneath the safety cage.

Rather than shoot foward, the Copperhead Road violently bolted tail-first at full speed, AWAY from the pirate. This jerked Tatiana bodily against the Commander's chair, towards the scanner.

The pirate, surprised, squirted forward to close the distance, never even aware that his 'prey' had deployed his hardpoints in the same move.

Their ranging thrown off, beam lasers creased space, searching for the retreating ship even as two heavily engineered Pulse Lasers and a class 3B autocannon unfolded from her belly.

The two-meter cluster of barrels began to spin...

With a thump, the thrust reversers changed position a second time...

-

Twenty seconds after the two vessels had dropped from Supercruise, white blips filled on the radar as broken pieces of a Cobra lazily dispersed into the vacuum.

And the former CMFE privateer had realized something in those twenty seconds.

Tatiana was very, very lucky that not once while she had been chasing him, had CMDR Wingnut English ever decided to stand his ground.

He probably would not have survived, but her poor Anaconda would have been much more than an insurance write-off.

Embarking on the Copperhead Road

"The Maia system? That's right next door to the Pleiades nebula. For God's sake, Wingnut, I'm not even in the damn chair yet and your first job is to have me take you right into Tharg territory?"

"Yup. Sounds like a lot of fun, doesn't it? We might get to make first contact tonight."

"Fun? I was perfectly happy chasing dormant bounties right here. At least I know who's who in Chacobog. Anyway, why does it sound like I'm gonna be flying this trip in?"

Wingnut chuckled, his elbows braced against the doorframe to the Copperhead Road's bridge. "The first half, at least. I just spent four out of the last five days driving around, triggering alarms and keeping Squeezy Stan flipping over in his bed.

I really need to hit the bunk, and the auto-pilot's never worked right. So you're taking the stick. Go'ead, have a sit."

CMDR Tatiana Searle, formerly a privateer hired by the Chacobog Movement for Equality and now the sub-commander of the UNSS Copperhead Road, took to the seat and swiveled it to face the screen.

"So, you're talking a series of jumps that may take hours, even at traffic priority." She referred to a situation where all USS's, distress beacons, shipwrecks, anything that could serve a distraction to their trip, would be ignored. "My ship could have done it a lot faster. A lot bigger, too. But I notice on your school bus, there seems to be no bathroom on board."

"Yeah. The Commander cannot leave the chair for any reason. Never quite figured out why that is. And remember, since this is a Class 5 personal craft, you're in a spacesuit and everything."

"But - what if I need to - "

Auto-catheters deploying intoned a contralto, disembodied AI voice. Please remain still

"Auto-whAAAAAATTHEFUCK"