Stoner Steve and the Quest for the Cheesy Poof

[Stoner_Steve]

Steve was hungry, mind you this wasn’t his body simply telling him it was time to consume energy, no, this was a drug induced hunger, of which only one item would satisfy. He stretched and poked his head out of his handwoven, fair trade, cruelty free llama wool blanket and fumbled around until his hand hit the light switch. The flight deck and living area lit up slowly in a rosey green hue that he favored. Steve giggled to himself when his eyes finally focused and saw how hazy the little freighter was. He rolled off of his hammock and stretched to his full height of just a hair over 6 feet. He could have been an imposing figure, if he had an ounce of muscle or fat on him.

Steve plopped into the flight deck. While pushing his blond hair out of his face he fumbled for a moment with a tablet until the his information was entered correctly. His cargo manifest and traffic pattern loaded on the screen, he rubbed his eyes again before pinging his neural net calling out on a secured channel to his usual escort, Wally. While waiting for a response Steve loaded another synth weed cartridge into his pipe. He started to draw deeply while reading his flight plan. He glanced at his neural net again and sighed, “Wally musta found a comfy place on the bar to sleep, ah well”. Steve's fingers danced across the control panel, and the Anki shuttered to life. He browsed the preflight checklist in a foggy haze while the engines warmed up.

Steve attempted to look out the window but was surprised by his own reflection, the blast shield was still down. He pressed the key to raise the shield and squinted out into the well lit hangar bay. Satisfied that he had the place to himself this early in the morning he donned his headset and driving gloves. He keyed the mic and zoned out momentarily before realizing he was broadcasting, ”Ahh F-” he released the mic muttering curses trying to sort through the haze of sleep, “Uhh, right! um, Cambridge Research Station, this be the Siberia, requesting to launch airlock 2”, a burst of static preceded the controller's reply “Siberia roger, cleared to launch airlock 2, autopilot engaged, have a nice flight” “Cleared to launch CS-Siberia, like thanks man!”

Steve watched his ship controls until the stations anti-grav systems started to pull the freighter towards the airlock. He eagerly rubbed his hands together as the heavy steel door sealed behind his vessel and the countdown timer indicating his launch started to count back from ten. As it neared zero Steve’s mind was made, he had a hunger, a craving, for cheese...

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[Stoner_Steve]

Steve rolled over and hit his alarm. Yawning he looked around his cramped room before rolling off his cot and standing. Yawning again he walked over to his meager window and watched Planet Cannish rotate below him. It had been a wild two months that lead him to Invergordon Space Port. Steve turned and walked past a plaque letting his hands drift over the words "Dublin Derby, 1st Place"

He was pulling on his tattered flight jacket when the door flew open. Two men entered. "Steve Squigs?" the taller of the two asked, "eh, uh, like yeah man" Steve stuttered out. The shorter one spoke sharply, "Welcome to the family" and threw a quite nice jacket at Steve. "Don't screw this up, we don't normally take on outsiders."

Steve was elated as the two men turned and left his room, he quickly followed swinging his arms into his new jacket, the emblem on the left arm was clear as day, and as clean as it would ever be.:j:.

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[Stoner_Steve]

Steve wasn't scared of the Corsairs. He was terrified. "They aren't cannibals, its just a rumor, they aren't cannibals, its just a rumor." The trip to gamma was certainly a new one, forced by the need to find a quieter route. Steve stopped his rushed murdering as the transport exited the jumphole. In-hailing sharply he looked over his navigation station and quickly powered up to cruise for a short trip to Tripoli Shipyard. Pinging his long range array he was surprised to see the majority of the system silent except some local patrols. Sighing explosively he watched as the shipyard grew before him. Looking down at his synth weed cartridge he went to add some more when he paused. Was it the Outcasts or the Corsairs...which one didn't like Cryer...

"Hola Congressman" a Hispanic voice said though Steve's hazy waves of concentration.

Steve of course panicked while slapping his headset off and dropping his pipe. Swearing loudly he quickly put his headset back on, "Er, yes I have a load of scrap" "Moor point 4 amigo" "um, like dudde, one last thing" "Si" "Can I like not get out of my ship?" "What amigo?" "Can I like...not...leave my ship, like just send payment to me i'll open the cargo doors and your magnets will drag it out" "uhh, Si amigo, you sound a little loco though" Steve's voice broke in a high pitched laughter "yes, sure, loco, hahahahah, crazy me...but like seriously?" "Aye you loco mo'fo, you don't have to leave your ship"

Steve's grin returned to his face as his ship moored, he looked down and picked his pipe up off the floor while thinking to himself again

"They aren't cannibals..."

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[Stoner_Steve]

Invergordon Space Port

Walking along a short corridor Steve found himself entering a large docking bay. The contractor that was hired came over to him as he entered. "Hello! We've finished most of upgrades to the vessel to your specifications. That being said Steve we couldn't do anything about the engines. Its not any tech we've worked with before, so beyond jerry riging the new reactor in we haven't touched them." Steve nodded before responding "I kind of figured but I need to get them looked at by someone..." drifting off for a moment Steve looked back up at the contractor "Other than the engines the rest of the equipment has been mounted?" "Yes, new guns, armor, radar, computers, even slapped a new coat of paint." Steve smiled as the contractor lovely detailed all of the changes. Following behind the now walking and talking contractor he noticed that they were talking towards a small two man shuttle. Buckling himself into his seat Steve was daydreaming while pre-flight checks were quickly completed. "Did you hear me Steve?" "I uh what?" Steve stuttered out while he checked himself back into reality. "Where did you say you found this thing again?" Thinking for a moment Steve quickly reviewed all the lies he had crafted around the vessel before remembering the tale he told before, "She was adrift in Coronado, probably some frenchie got pasted." The flight continued silently until Steve looked up and noticed the contractor glaring at him with an eyebrow raised. Smiling uncomfortably Steve asked, "Penny for your thoughts?" "There was no battle damage to the vessel." Steves grin faded a little, "Not all of us want our histories plain as day" The contractor looked back forward while shrugging. "A man is only as good as his word around here"

The ship lapsed into an uneasy silence as the shuttle rounded the edge of the dry-docks. Despite the mood Steve still eagerly leaned forward to get a better look at his ship as they closed on it. The shuttle entered the small docking bay aft of the main cabin. "Well Steve, here we are, your payment already cleared the net, so stay frosty out there." Steve smiled and flashed the peace sign as he entered the cabin. The airlock closed behind him and the ship reverberated as the tiny shuttle undocked.

Letting out a deep sigh Steve made his way forward to the pilots seat. Dropping his bag beside his chair he took a seat. Running his hands over the control column he could almost feel his history, his families history, 4 generations worth of Squigs, and he was the end of the line. Powering up the eighty year old vessel Steve guided the Res Nullius out of dry-dock. Quite more carefully than he brought her in.

Taking a deep breath as he reached the edge of the system and general solitude Steve powered down the engines and let the vessel drift. Stretching Steve stood from the chair and walked back a few feet. Squatting down Steve punched a 3 digit code into the floor panel. It popped off the floor and Steve set it aside. On the outside the words said escape pod. But it was more than that now. Passing though his hanging rasta beads Steve jumped and landed on a bean bag chair. Before he started to take a hit on his pipe his stomach growled. He had never gotten his craving for cheese settled.

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[Stoner_Steve]

.:j:.Yabba.Dabba.Doo, Vieques Shipyard, Puerto Rico

It was a cheddar extra sharp, or what it. The smell of antiseptic hit his nose much harder than the cheddar did. He blinked his eyes, the room started to come into focus. It wasn’t his ship. Panicking slightly Steve sat straight up, pain flared throughout his lower body. He quickly reclined and the pain lessened some what. Glancing around the room he noted its generally deplorable state. The slight vibrations told him that they were at cruise speed. Assuming he was safe Steve proceeded to pass back out.

When he came to again the ship was quiet. Finding that he was able to stand without to much pain he hobbed over to the window. Looking out he is groaned loudly. He was in Puerto Rico.

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[Stoner_Steve]

.:j:.Yabba.Dabba.Doo, Salvage Operations, Humboldt System

It had been about a week since the crew of the Yabba Dabba Doo picked Steve up from his wreck of a ship. He had been paid for the value of his scrapped ship, minus the salvage fee, which amounted to almost the entire payment for the wreck. Low on credits Steve signed on as a crew member of the Salvager and quickly found himself as the ships pilot, on the night shift.

The salvager was a beast to fly compared to other transports, luckily the skipper spent more time down in the chop shop watching the work than commenting on Steves handling of the ship. The Yabba Dabba Doo slowed, turned sharply and dropped down above their target. The CSV was pulled into the hold. The official line was they had been paid to collected the pilot and co-pilot bodies for the families. The rumor mill in the dining hall was vastly different. From the reasonably sane, to the insane. Steven even heard a rumor that the Arbiter had paid the Skipper to keep an eye on something.

Steve tuned back in as the whole ship shuttered. The main cargo doors must have just closed. Doing a pre-flight check before the skipper returned served to make him look busy when the old man walked in, and allowed the filtration system to pull the smell of the pipe out of the room.

The bulkhead slid open and the Skipper entered the bridge. A heavy set man of 55 years of age moved slowly to the pilots console, leaning on his cane as he came to a stop behind Steve he gruffly stated, ”Take us back to Vieques.” Pete then handed Steve a data pad. ”At the end of your shift go visit Betty in accounting. I’m ending your probation, welcome aboard, Betty will explain the whole crew member package. But what you’ll be interested in the shares and dividend payments.” Pete laughed loudly and walked off of the bridge to his quarters. Steve looked down at the pad as Pete walked away.
 


Salvage Log #217,389
Name: Jamaica
Investigation
Work Zone: Grid D2 - Humboldt System
Manifest:

Premium Scrap - 6 tons at 4,000 credits a ton
General Scrap - 80 tons at 750 credits a ton
Universal Armor Upgrade mk II - Re-sale Value 382,500 credits
Barrager mk IV - 2 Class 7 Weapons - Re-sale Value 32,886 credits
Synthetic Marijuana - 25 crates - Re-sale Value 30,000 credits

Total Salvage Revenue: 529,386 Credits
Operating Cost: 120,000 Credits
Final Dividends: 409,386 Credits
Crew Shares: 12,000
Dividend Per Share: 34 credits

Steve leaned back in the pilot's chair and tapped the data pad on the console. Perhaps being a hired hand wouldn’t be so bad after all. Glancing at the ships status screen Steve entered the commands to return the salvager to its home port.

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[Stoner_Steve]

.:j:.Yabba.Dabba.Doo, Salvage Operations, Kansas System

Steve stirred a large amount of sugar into his coffee. This shift was actually going to kill him faster than the Corse attempted to. He glanced at the clock. It was 3:28 am. Steve pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed heavily.

It had been a busy week. Pete, the Skipper, didn’t mind Steves drug use; but he did mind when it affected the ships operations. Working quickly Steve sent out a message to Cryer Pharmaceuticals. Luckily the Director, Michael Vallon, had done work with him in the past.

Steve giggled to himself as he looked over at the clock again, hanging directly below it was his perscription for syth weed. Loading a cartridge into his pipe he murmured to himself, ”Founders Bless the bureaucracy, for it is good to me..” he exhaled a large cloud of smoke that hung in the air and pondered what the night shift managed to salvage.

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Salvage Log #217,395
Name: Demeter
Investigation
Work Zone: Grid 7B - Kansas System
Manifest:

Blood Diamonds - 1 Box - Re-sale Value 2,910 credits
Pineal Amulets - 22 Crates - Re-sale Value 43,450 credits
Deuterium - 10 Units - Re-sale Value 18,950 credits
Premium Scrap - 8 tons at 4,000 credits a ton
General Scrap - 182 tons at 750 credits a ton

Total Salvage Revenue: 233,810 Credits
Operating Cost: 120,000 Credits
Final Dividends: 113,810 Credits
Crew Shares: 12,000
Dividend Per Share: 9.48 credits

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[Stoner_Steve]

.:j:.Reclaimer(s), Salvage Operations, Texas System

Steve glanced over at the radiation meter as it ticked in a rhythmic manner, indicating the danger to him, the ship, and the crew. Steve leaned over and picked up the phone down to the main chopshop, it rung once before getting picked up, "Lou, how much longer, we're just trying to get whats useful, we an't trying to take her to the ball". Steve frowned at the response, "If you say so bring them aboard anyways"

The crew had found several boxes marked "Ageira" and brought them aboard the vessel. Steve sent a message to see about returning the property. Additionally he realized his prescription expired and he contacted Cryer to renew it. After he sent another message to LPI to keep his clearance to have the synth weed within Liberty.

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Salvage Log #385,287
Name: Supply Ship Ft. Worth
Investigation
Work Zone: Grid 6C - Texas System
Manifest:

Ageira WhiteBoxes™ - 50 Boxes - Unknown Value
Premium Scrap - 700 tons at 4,000 credits a ton
General Scrap - 2,700 tons at 750 credits a ton

Total Salvage Revenue: 4,825,000 Credits
Returned Salvage Value: 3,000,000 Credits - Receipt
Operating Cost: 120,000 Credits
Final Dividends: 7,705,000 Credits
Crew Shares: 12,000
Dividend Per Share: 642 credits

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