Alison cruised through the eerie ion storms surrounding Leiden, humming happily to herself after a prosperous day of roguing with the locals. She and the enthusiastic, dimwitted residents of Padua had made off with over 15 million credits worth of loot. The depraved pirates would always cheer her up, with their constant bickering over cuts, and attempts to impress her, or any woman for that matter, with daring feats of flight, and offers of booze and gifts.
A proximity alarm went off in her gunship. "Not again", she sighed, peering into the murky depths surrounding her ship. A spark of light illuminated the wreckage of a large golden ship. Ali was curious - it wasn't often she found anything other than snubcraft. Possibly the odd freighter, but nothing like this.
She looked down at her console, scanning the carcass. The readout proclaimed there were artifacts aboard, though no survivors to speak of. Useless trinkets, she thought to herself, and started to plot a course around the debris. She halted doing so, as the console bleeped again, throwing up a structural scan of the ship. "SHI1800 Raba" it read out. She looked over the render of the ship, it's sleek lines, marred only by the gaping hole only a torpedo could use, and fell in love.
"I must have it!" she proclaimed. It looked different, sleek, sexy and spacious, something she lacked in her current vessels. Ali noted down the coordinates of the ship, and proceeded to set course, not for Leiden, but Rochester. Not a chance she could tow her treasure alone, but perhaps she could convince a Junker or three to lend her a hand. They'll do anything for the right price, even had a shipyard she had used in the past. Alison smiled to herself, looking forward to this latest toy.
several hours later...
Ali looked across the bar at the blonde-haired Junker, Richard. She waved, and watched him slowly get up and re-seat himself by her side. "Good afternoon!" she exclaimed enthusiastically. "What brings you to Rochester, Ms...."
"Ali. I live here, actually."
"Really now? Can't say I've seen you around"
"2nd deck, room 245."
"I see..." He smiles, "So you're the one we get all all the noise complaints from." Alison smiled, nodding. "Well, the name's congressman Richard van Pelt. How may I be of service lass?"
Ali began to outline her plan, the wreckage she had found, how she required the use of a shipyard and tow crew. Rick smiled, upon hearing about the wrecked Hogosha transport. Ali started fiddling with her shot glass as her story came to an end. "Well..." her companion replied, "You must understand, I am a busy man." Alison's smile started to fade, and her eyes dropped down to studying the bar. "Oh.." She said in a rather disappointed tone. "Didn't say I wouldn't help hun. There's an old transport in hanger D I can lend you for a modest sum. If you can tow your little treasure to Vieques, no doubt the crew there will be able to help"
"Ttthank you sweety." She reached down to her pant pocket, retrieving a neural net card, paying the junker a handsome sum. She finished her drink, thanked him again, and exited the bar to find hanger D.
Alison's rented transport moved slowly about her prize, laying lines as it went. Attaching the wrecked Raba to her hauler was an arduous task, but Ali happily worked at breakneck speed. No doubt her cocktail of synth, cardi and battery acid had something to do with it. Starflyer-sized asteroids pinged off the retro graviton shield. The generator whined furiously in the background, but held death at bay.
Eventually, after the 17th diamond-ilium cable was attached, Alison fired up the Bullmastif's cruise engines, and headed out of the murky nebula. She shrugged as the wreck in tow bounced from rock to rock. She'd get some poor sap to pay for the repairs.
As her ship approached the first of several jumpholes on her journey, she sighed impatiently. 5 hours to the shipyards, and who knows how long it'll take the junkers to patch up her newest vessel.
As the transport pulled up to Vieques, small shuttles were sent out to retrieve the depressurized hulk, and move it to one of the numerous ship construction bays, while Ali moored her gunboat with the shipyard.
As she made her way to the second deck of the station, to oversee the repairs, a somewhat scruffy-looking young man with the sort of roguish charm that many who make their living off the beaten path have about them came up behind her and began to speak.
[font=Comic Sans Ms][color=#FF9900]"Beauty, that'n is. I'm Alex, most call me Backy, though. Short for Backyard Scrapper, 'tis the name-a my ship. I'll be supervisin' the repairs o' that Hogosha-built hunk-a-scrap for ya, miss."
Alison whirled around, facing the young Junker. She looked at him and smiled, nodding. As she turned to gaze over her treasure, noting the various holes and half attached engines, she replied:
"You'll turn her into a functioning beauty, right hun?"
She faced him again, smiling while momentarily biting her lower lip.
"I mean...this won't be a problem, will it? Is anything else required to get her done?"
Backy smiled and nodded, looking over the disfigured Raba, eying particular areas closely, with a look in his eyes somewhat akin to that of a fat lady ogling cake. It was obvious he wanted to get his hands on some of the tech of "the enemy."
[font=Comic Sans Ms]"Aye, miss - that's a fine piece a' work, I gotta say. Judgin' from the holes, I'd say it was out there about... three weeks, or so. Y'said that you found the thing in th'Komatsu, what's got Leiden in it an' all?"
Ali nodded. [color=#CC33CC]"Yes, a bit away from Leiden." Backy made a "mhmm" of understanding and ogled the fine lines of the still-stylish looking ship, despite its wear and tear.
[font=Comic Sans Ms][color=#FF9900]"Y'know, I might 'afta take a gander at the weapon systems on that thing there. Only Kusarian powercore I ever examined was on some crappy ol' light fighter that the Hackers ambushed. Surprised they didn't destroy the damn thing... plus, it's prolly got some Hogosha guns still on there, too. I mean, rads prolly took'm out of working order, but I could salvage a few o' those turrets, I'm willing ta betcha.
"Gonna be easy repairin' this thing, but it ain't gonna be simple, though. It'll cost ya a few mil, but I'm sure a fine, capable-lookin' lady such as yourself can afford that for a poor old scrapper, eh?"
He turned back to Ali and winked with a grin on his face, demonstrating yet again that rogue-like charm often found amongst his kind.
She smiled back at him, and turned back to face her ship.
"So anyways" she replied, in a more business-like tone, "to be perfectly honest, as long as the engines function, and look nice, I wouldn't mind their being replaced. You have a smelter, right? Use for the scrap?"
Ali turned back briefly, chuckling and grasping the mechanic's arm in a flirtatious manner.
"Of course you do...long day, I must apologize. But yes, reliable, functioning engines, with an afterburner capable of taking several direct hits. Hmm....oh, and the defensive systems."
She chuckled again at this.
"Yes...defensive...I shipped over with me a freighter load of custom Hacker weaponry. Standard type 5 mounts, shouldn't be a problem, I hope?"
He grinned over at Alison, and nodded in the affirmative.
[font=Comic Sans Ms][color=#FF9900]"I've worked with 'acker weaponry a fair few times in the past. Shouldn't be a problem riggin' it up like you said. We just got a fresh load-a' high temp alloys from Culebra, which is what we usually use in things regardin' turrets - damn things can get pretty hot, dontchaknow.
I think I'll be takin' the Hog turrets offa it, though... you don't mind, do ya?"
He winked at her, as the reconstruction began. The bright, harsh glow of welding tools designed to function in the immensely cold, unforgiving environment of open space marked their conversation from here on out, as well as the more gentle warning lights of the small shuttles that ferried components to and from the large hulk.
"Those were turrets? Yes....please get rid of those fragile pieces of scrap. Nothing's better than hacker weaponry anyhow"
she grasped Alex's shoulder
"Of course, your Barragers are excellent chain guns too. If you don't mind, I'm going to take a stroll about while your boys get her completed."
Ali walked off, wandering around the shipyards for several hours. She gazed upon the Congress' barge, exclaiming to herself how it was larger than shipyard's facilities. No doubt several smuggling ships could be fit in it's belly. Growing anxious to get in her new transport, Ali decided to take a trip back to New York. After all, Rico had all the supplies needed, and she still had to return her leased Bullmastiff.
"A'ite, cool. Someone work on gettin' them damn turrets off, and don't break 'em anymore than ya 'ave ter. I wanna take a look at'em later on." ***static***
Within a few hours, most of the hull had been restored to working condition, and the engines had been ripped off and replaced with ones built by the Junkers, a hodge-podge mess of components taken from the ever-increasing Rheinlander wrecks in the nearby Texas system and homebrewed Junker designs.
The Hacker turrets were installed with ease, and the power core augmented with the traditional Junker boosters, which, though old and unnecessary, were considered by some to be good luck, and thus were installed in every ship that the crew rigged up these days.
By the end of the day, the ship was in full operational order, though some of the docking lights were broken. (But really, who's counting?) The credits had been transferred, the bottle had been broken, and the ship was ready to set sail for the stars.
Having just set sail from Rochester, Ali received a message on her datapad from Backy. She clapped her hands, causing her Scimitar to veer into a passing Interspace Stork. Giggling on open frequencies, she dropped a screamer mine on said transport, before cruising off to the lanes of New York.
As she passed Norfolk shipyards, waving at the wholly incompetent naval pilots, she debated what she would actually do, with her big ship. She had honestly not thought about this dilemma previously, too caught up in the prospect of merely having a new ship to fly. As she approached the Texas jump gate, entering the latest access codes with one hand, and checking her to do list with the other, it struck her. Holiday in the Omegas. She did have to go gunship shopping after all, and her last trip their had yielded a fine assortment of precious metals (Which she wore proudly around her neck). She noted down the course for her Raba on the datapad: Mobbing traders in Bering for goods, followed by the network of jumpholes to Bretonia. The Curvacious, as she decided the Raba would be called, would have quite the inaugural flight.