I trade in rare goods and usually have hold full of random bits from all over. It’s good money and I do alright for myself but, you know, every credit counts.
After out growing my Hauler, I found myself in a shipyard looking at well-used but solid-looking trade Cobra, the Jupiter 3. In my haste, I didn’t properly inspect the hold. I later discovered that it looked like a Tarcen River Steer was let loose in there.
Still, I got a good deal and I was able to hammer the cargo racks into a serviceable shape. I was back in the lanes in no time.
This morning I get an order in for onionhead from a private party. Said he’d pay triple the asking if I can deliver in short order. Luckily I had some onboard, but I have to be clever to make the delivery window. Without another option, I tried to skim off a white dwarf for the first time.
Whoooo… I ain’t yanked a stick like that since my canyon racing days. Well, the Jupiter, she’s built solid all right and she saw me through but the vibrations were something else.
Unfortunately, I began to regret my decision to forgo a new set of cargo racks right about the time I heard the first quack of a Bog Spaniel coming from the hold. It’s a right nasty disaster back there! Every rack failed… every case ripped clean from the wall and burst open.
Ever seen several tons of free floating Bog Spaniels and Xihe Companions, both high on onionhead and rare whisky? It ain’t pretty and the noise is indescribable. I still haven’t found that leathery egg I picked up at the last port. I can’t go into port like this. Advice?
-High Puppy Problems
Dear High Puppy Problems,
I have to say, you might have me stumped here. That a cluster alright. The way I see it, you have a few choices.
First, you can wait for the party to die down and attempt to secure what remains. Second, you could find your local Canonn outpost and see about finding some behavioral scientists, they might be interested in… “observation”.
Option three? Get in there, grab a bottle, and come back with a few stories.
I’ve 176 years on these bones, fifteen some grandkids, been widowed these past 32 years, and I’m still kickin’! Thought I might let you in on a little secret.
Any time you get yourself in a tight spot, those boys over in the Fuel Rats will come running. You just place the call and they slip those nice, tight, little butts into those form-fitting flight suits… Whew! Getting hot flashes just thinking about it.
Well, it’s just so easy for lil old me to forget to scoop or get a little too close to brown dwarf. Oopsie! The stranger the situation I can get myself into, the faster they respond; and the bigger the forearms on the pilot coming to get me.
Its addictive and it keeps this brainbox thinking up ways I might ‘accidentally’ strand myself again! Teehee, they can come charge my friendship drive anytime, if you know what I mean. No problems here, I just wanted to share.
Ha! This was too precious not to publish. Wanting to research this a bit, I contacted no less than four Fuel Rats that the Gazette has access too and asked them about how they handle self inflicted calls.
I thought for sure they would have a name for calls like yours. Turns out, they don’t. A missed opportunity if you ask me, so many fun names you could use… Moon Swooner, NebuNut.
But I digress. In reality they all said: “a client is a client. If they need help, we’ll help.” So provided you’re not abusing their generosity or putting them at risk, it would seem like you may continue to “charge your friendship drive” in this fashion. Go get’um, granny!