[center][h1]Luck, First Officer.[/h1][/center]
Luck hated Taxore. Infamous for it's crime and extreme weather. He had no issue with the first part: wherever crime was money followed. But he had a particular bone to pick with bad weather. It was hard on him, and it was hard on his ship. And he was yet to ascertain whatever they were doing down there was worth him having to pick sand out of his radiators for the next few months. He had been on bridge duty for the last 48 hours subjective time, with the other crew members popping in and out to offer their help. It wasn't strictly needed, but it helped him feel at ease to stop any possible surprises. Either way he was unfazed, he would do what he had to to ensure the Dauntless and him got where he needed safely, and in the process he'd raher have some extra hands spare than not. He had made sure the Captain's orders were carried out to the quality he wished. With a stable orbit round the dusty brown sphere dubbed 'Taxore' he had made doubly sure they were high enough up in case they changed their minds and pissed off somewhere else. He certainly wouldn't complain.

He quickly took stock of the ship's registered of inventory. They would last a few more days, but they might need to restock on fuel sooner than he had hoped. He quickly computated the weight of their cargo. Nothing worth worrying about, even counting the unregistered 30 kilograms of Splinter he'd left scattered throughout the superstructure of the Dauntless. Splinter was a nasty substance, both an inert precursor to an illegal explosive often used by anti-corpo extremists, and also a highly addictive performance drug favoured by armed personnel, engineers, labourers, and pilots alike. It was known for it's motor and cognitive improvement skills, as well it's reputation for violently killing people that aren't careful using it.

None of that particularly bothered Luck, but he what he was worried about was that he had yet to be able to sell off his 'personal investment'. He'd acquired the stock at a legendarily low price a few months ago. He'd bought it as a backup in case the new ship's new owner turned out to be incompetent. He still wasn't sure of the Captain completely, but he seemed to capable so far. Even so, Luck intended to invest in some new parts for the ship, but he would only be able to do that if he wasn't caught trafficking 30 kilos of a Section 9 UNS banned substance. Even worse, many mega-corps also banned it to some degree due to it's usage in partisanal activities. Getting caught would most likely mean his disassembly due to his position as a Silicon second class being.

He was glad none of the crew knew, as that would implicate them. If they did land on Taxore he was hoping to get a sale contact from an associate related to the Fat Pig. Either way he wasn't looking forward to the grit. Finally the Captain began the brief, Luck turned up his exterior audio sensors, listening intently. While the crew contemplated their responses he played back the audio once more inside his head, formulating an appropriately chipper response: [color=Cyan]"I've crossed paths with his associates once or twice before. Good money. I saw we try taking the job. I think we might need to land to refuel anyway, we're not in the red, but prices are decent here and we could use a bit more. Either way, I wish him luck eating me raw."[/color] He ended the sentence with a suitably organic sounding chuckle, to hammer home the lightness of the decision, he hoped.


[@Milkman]