After the tragedy of the San Antonio during which most of the personnel aboard Oyster Creek had been only able to look on in horror as the hegemon was dissected in front of them all, subsequently killing all 24 crew on board, Jimmy was never the same. He became withdrawn from operational decisions, the man who was once calling the shots for the Alliance was now twisting into a self destructive madman with a deathwish.
He had no idea who was responsible for the attack that day, only the ship model and callsign of the vessel, no clue as to who had put the attack in place. The Xenos had many enemies. It could have been anyone. He was losing assets, and people. People's lives.
On top of this, a hijacking by a Lane Hacker in a similar craft had left him only half of his load of premium scrap for Refugio.
Alone aboard the Serpentis Maximus for many days at a time, Jimmy had learned to chart the courses and run mass projections for piloting asteroid fields from the original pilot, Harold. He was now working in the bar back on the station, his dream job he had said. That suited Jimmy fine. Leaving him to plot and plan his next move.
The ship itself had been jury-rigged enough now that one person could fly it for as long as they could stay awake, with cheap automated drones manning the few consoles that were still operating. The autopilot could take control for short periods, across clear space and serve as the co-pilot in manoeuvring situations. Redundant systems like shielding and weapons has reduced the necessary crew significantly.
The next stop was to take the monthly H-fuel shipment out to Vespucci. Hellfire activity had gone up recently in Liberty, the group putting the fuel to good use. Jimmy laid in the course. Another lone run. If his fate was to be the same as those aboard the San Antonio, so be it.