...must not take up Wolfen's torch.... must remain in........character.... ... meanwhile, on the Star Hunter... "It's got style, some extras I'd cut out, I mean, but overall this 200dT getaway car has some interesting variation. Now, I'm not some pencil-dick architect nerd who sits on his tail all day and cranks out variants until the Ancients come home. However, if I'm gonna be stuck on the Star Hunter , it's gonna get renamed in some equivalent of a Vargr dialect. Who the hell hunts a star in a 200dT Far Trader anyway? But it's a wanted ship. We blasted our way off Alell, missiles raining down on our LZ, in this specialized, richboy's 'Vette. To an Urzaeng like me, the guns need upgrading. The 20dT Launch is sup-, super-, superfluous - yeah, that's the word. Flat-out unnecessary. I'll keep the Air/raft though. I don't hone with floating about town in a grav-belt or in battledress that has all the Humies loading their drawers and screaming, 'The Corsairs are coming!'" *the camera's view pans left and right of Rrounllakhs Vukhikhloeg* "The Bridge could be trimmed of its fat, down to Compact I mean. I can take it, especially if I'm the only wolf on deck. She pushes 4Gs of Thrust and I did get a peak out of that when I gunned the M-drive. Fully stocked, and I like the coffeemaker for the espresso. I double-blend the mix to get something out of the beans other than a trip to the fresher. So, the cargo. Yeah, but that Launch has to go. I might purchase a couple units of Mining Drones and pop a mining laser in #1 laser turret. At short range, it does six times the damage of a normal beam laser. I could go Q-ship in this humie pile of crap, but I'm no hero against my own kind. Better a belter and bust rocks than try and clean up my already-interstellar rap-sheet." *the huge Vargr takes the camera with him as he lopes in his duster coat through the ship's corridors* "Six staterooms, five of which, (what - hello? I'm Urzaeng, remember?) five which can stand double-occupancy for taking on Passengers with a minimal crew of three. Not bad. I mean, if I'm out there chopping up 'roids, using a different stateroom might mean a little variety in the cold black while the mining drones bring the ores into the cargo hold. And that's another thing!" *the Urzaeng re-aims the camera at himself* "If you're gonna turn a merchant's Far Trader into a belter bad-ass, Solar Panels, a SIN Sensor, and robot crew might be the thing. Y'see, as a miner busting rocks, unless you come upon some superweapon radioactives in a system's belt, you're not going to see much payout at the refinery. But if you can compensate by reducing living crew, cutting fuel consumption and find that perfect node of hot stuff first, then you can earn a legit living. And that's what I was trying to do when some humans came limping up in a liner in the last place you'd find them outside the laughable Third Imperium. They got me in, suited me up, stuck the biggest gun their money could buy into my claws. The only thing I got to shoot was a desk. A desk. Some pencil-pushing, paper-twat Human's desk. And that leads me 'round the bend to the next thing I gotta do." *the camera tour ends in the Engineering section of the Star Hunter* "Jump-2 ain't gonna cut it out in the Extents, even if it's just Gvurrdon or Tuglikki Sectors . The stellar density is much lower and they don't have those long, streaming J-1 mains to play around with. 'Sides, there's War aftermath and cleanup the Imps have to do. Not much time for a big, dumb, brute of an Urzaeng. This ship's fuel and jumpdrive needs a three parsec range if I'm gonna go legit and make a living out here in the four corners region on this end of the Extents. To that end, I have to cash out of Artemis Group . They have some pretty weird crew, aliens I don't know or can't pronounce the names of on that Colonial Cruiser. It's home to them, I suppose. But it's no place for an Urzaeng, what with their bylaws, expectations of morals and the tyranny of indecision. An alpha needs to step up and that ain't me. Not over a bunch of humies, a space elf, a short snot everyone calls a 'goblin', a smart-ass mini-dragon and some oh-so-traumatized grunts and navy dogs that were on the wrong side of the Fifth to begin with. But who am I to judge, right? I'm just a Corsair out of the Ruler of Five that picked on Vilani for twelve years. Now, that I'm gonna take this.... Star Hunter ... and make it mine with the start-up credits from cashing out of Artemis Group , I can live my dream that failed the first two times in my migration Spinward out here behind the claw." *the Urzaeng then demonstrates his armored claws* "Some Dirtside Joe, even if he is in Vlen Beckett's will, even if he is the gene brother to that so-called Colonel everyone's worshiping like some Great Ancestor, he's not gonna know what to do with a 200dT Empress Marava variant. It's too expensive for Vlen's heir to operate properly and own. He doesn't need the headache. Now me however. As soon as we stepped down into the grotto and spotted the Star Hunter , I saw new possibilities open up for me. She has good drives, a golden heart, and was the ship that intercepted that communique between the Heavy Scout and Alell Traffic Control. So, I think the Ancients mean for me - I mean us, to have it and use it. It needs a Vargr touch to be sure. And Artemis doesn't need the money from it sale. I looked over Runt's shoulder one day as he was running the numbers as we polished Battledress in Security. I'm taking the FGMP-15, especially since I'm sure the company isn't going to let a dangerous Urzaeng walk out on them with a Magrail Support Weapon that nobody but me can use. Yeah, I can flatten a small village with this puppy. 'Sides, this Far Trader needs a little more security since we were able to cold-start it so easily and make space tracks, thumb-clawing our noses at those so-called Marines back on Alell." *the Urzaeng hefts the man-portable field artillery weapon* "I don't need to know if all those collectible curious are really Ancients stuff. I'm content to let the Solomani Hypothesis remain just that. Let the Artemis Group solve the mystery if they like, but I live in the here and now. I'm no arc-, archy- archaeologist . Damn, I have trouble with long words enough as it is. Since Imps have this whole lock-down monopoly on artifacts whenever someone finds one; it's like they get a burr up their asses and have to freeze-fry every world that produces a bonafide find. And now that we hear tale of some method of certifying whether a find is true and not some forgery, fake or decoy; I think the blast radius is getting wider. The Third Imperium says it rules the space between worlds. I call bullshit. They sent Marines down to a planet. Armed jump-grunts on a weapons-banned world and told us to surrender. Horse-nuts. I'm taking Vlen's getaway boat, even if 'Vlen' isn't his real name. You may not have seen how many fake identities that I saw as we looted his hideout. The books, files, pictures, lists and trinkets we found are going over to the Athena . If I can, I'm gonna check out my 'Maggie' from Security. Get it? 'Maggie'? Anyway, Zax can do the Engineer thing for as long as we can keep the Marches hunting us and not the Artemis Group , while they go for the endzone. Then I'll take this Far Tader, rename it something proper and in Urzaeng and bolt Coreward. The money should hit my bank account just before I step outside the Coreward border. Ancients be damned. This little outing is not how I envisioned going legit. Already, there's an All-Subsectors-Bulletin looking for the Star Hunter . Gonna get all the serial numbers filed off, refit, repaint, rename and register this bucket of bolts elsewhere. Commonality or 40th seems like possibilities." *back on the bridge, the male Vargr resets the camera to its mount* "The booze fridge is stocked with some amber ales and wussy champagne. Gonna tip back a few and not save any for Runt." "Cashing out, this is Rrounllakhs Vukhikhloeg aboard the soon-to-be-renamed Star Hunter ."