' Wrote:Receiving...
Message received from Freeport 4, Magellan.
Opening...
'Ey there... This thing workin'? Never tried it before... alrigh', 'ere we go. I'd like ta purchase a license for tha' Flyin' Wren, the Wren's Nest, the Soarin' Wren, an' the Far Wren, not ta mention my fighter, jus' registered as Tarlkor.
Jus' let me know and I'll bring ya they payment. Thanks ta ya.
Tarlkor Mori
Wren Corporation CEO
Dear Sir,
Can we have the exact names of the ships?
Yours,
The BPA Team
Quote:[7:42:05 PM][6:51:36 PM] Igor (Smokey): btw terry
[6:51:48 PM] Terrance Cooper: Ye?
[6:52:00 PM] Igor (Smokey): nothin
[6:52:03 PM] Igor (Smokey): just sayin btw
[6:52:05 PM] Terrance Cooper: <_<
Quote:Johnny_Haas: you shot anti criuse speed rockets!!!
Johnny_Haas: but why????
Johnny_Haas: ??
Johnny_Haas: why you shoot criuse speed rockets?
from: battleship persephone II, takelau
to: BPA office
"<Dear Madam,
What is the name of the individual for whom you would like the license to be issued?
Sincerely,
The BPA Team>
i do only require the license for myself ( Jinx ) aswell as the Persephone. - mind you, i allready payed officer firebird some time ago. - has that license expired? - as far as i remember, it was supposed to be a lifelong license - and i still enjoy a pretty good health.
anyway, "renewing" the license is not a problem of cash, but more about getting to the office/personel. - i don t visit the core systems too often - but might send one of the bounty hunters to bretonia some time. there are guildmembers on freeport 11 every day.
former licenses included: Jinx, Persephone, Sanctimony ( but this tradeship has been sold, as there was no need for it anymore )
The Gemenon Traveler sits moored on point 2 of Cardiff, Gideon's worldly co-pilot sits dozing in front of the vid screen at the rear of the cockpit which shows a pair of talking heads from Cambridge jawing about the Nomad licensing bureau. The co pilot farts and partially wakes himself up...later on he would wonder why in the 'verse he dreamed so vividly of little blue squids overflowing the 'Traveler's cargo bay. But when he fealt uneasy like that all he ever needed was a good hit. Not that it would help much when his dream came true...
Meanwhile, Micheal Gideon was at the Cardiff bar talking to his IMG fixer:
"You know better than I do how hard it is to get Colonials any plastic around here. Half the time I get the paperwork together, they ask for genetic tests and what not...meanwhile Mollies and others are getting approved left and right. You guys simply burned too much capital with Planetform for any of my hacks to work."
"I thought so, but it was worth a try," said Gideon.
"Say, why do you have any interest in the squiddies anyways? I thought you guys were hunting machines.."
"Its not the 'squiddies' themselves we are interested, just the company they attract. I can't really get detailed with you. We'll just have to deal with the Brets the old fashioned way,"
"What buy them tea and sing 'God save the Queen?"
"You watch too many movies, buddy. I'm leaving. Remember, I was never here."
' Wrote:Gentelmen...I require 3 licences for the following ships;
1.Gafwmn
2.SDS Recon Lt.Gafwmn
3.Gafwmn Transport Inc.
Payment will be issued by any of these ships at any requested time.Thank-you.
The said licences were payed and purchased by the vessel Gafwmn.
The BPA Team is glad to do business with you, sir.
After quietly leaving Cambridge, the Gemenon Traveler makes for Dublin. Having been shown many of the secret holes in and out of the dangerous system by other miners, Michael Gideon finds the repurposed vessel in its lazy oblong orbit around Dublin's large yellow sun. As he manually docks with the Hood he notices a couple of Borderworld's fighters streaking around the race track, the miner's guild wireless sets were buzzing with cheers and jeers. Leaving his flaky co pilot to watch over the ship, Micheal disembarks into a miasma of horrid smells and colorful vendors. His eyes track the locals as they take in the new vessel parked in their domain. Greedy looks were everywhere, miners down on their luck or Mollies bankrupt over raging cardamine addictions-all of them looking at the Gemenon Traveler as if it were a money tree...
"This is Mike, lock the doors will ya, and set the point defenses a level higher."
A belch is all he gets in reply, but Gideon knows his order will be obeyed.
Gideon makes his way to the center of the ship where once a mess hall for Hood's Armed Forces crew, now a seedy night club called The Golden Nuggets. There was someone there who knew how to find a certain scientist...just where to find him...
Through the dance floor he walks, reeling jigs are streaming from the old shoe band playing in the corner (an ancient Terran would think it sounded like a mix of irish folk with techno dance.) Past the dance floor, through the gaming tables to the view port. There a gaggle of scruffy miners stand watching the races. From behind Gideon:
"You! Hey bets are off mister, they're in the lane already."
"Shucks, I guess I'll have to wait."
"Last race of the day 'm afraid."
"Another time perhaps, say I'm looking for a Dr. Sinclair...have you heard of her?"
"Sounds foreign to me, better talk to that fella over there."
The bookey motions to a slim grey haired man watching the races. He has been looking at Gideon ever since mention of Dr. Sinclair caught his ear. He makes his way over to Gideon:
"You're lookin for Sinclair? You won't find her here. Ever since the Nomad war she's been the formost authority on Nomad-xenoarcheology. They keep her cooped up at Cambridge research station now, haven't seen her in years."
"Cambridge...that makes things difficult, I don't suppose you have a way to contact her do you...privately?"
The old miner grinns at Gideon for a moment
"If I were a younger man I'd have you race for info like that, but ever since I lost to a rookie Freelancer 16 years ago no one will bet on me. You'll have to find her at her home on Cambridge. And yes, I know BPA has you black listed, got the vid broadcast only an hour ago. You'll have to do it real quiet like."
A deafening roar from patrons around them drowns out the miners last few words. He picks up on the uproar and goes back to the window to see how the race went. Gideon watches on as well and just manages to see a Dagger careening way off course, hidden turrets pounding its failing engine core, roars of laughter ring through the Golden Nuggets as the cockpit bursts open with an ejection, the fighter slamming its ruin on a large boulder. As bets are payed out, Gideon takes his leave and wades through the rest of the battleship back to the Traveler
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