I awoke groggily from a disturbed night’s sleep that morning. I felt slow and irritable – in need of caffeine. I punched in the code for Espresso on my drinks machine and watched as it emitted a steaming line of black coffee into my mug.

As I waited, I thought to myself how these machines had come such a long way over the last few decades. The whole ‘Just add water’ idea had been taken to new levels since particle mass constructors had been introduced. Any drink imaginable was now available freeze-dried and the drinks machines would simply extract and combine hydrogen and oxygen from the surrounding atmosphere to create the necessary water. On the left hand side of unit you supplied the desired flavourings, whether that be coffee, orange cordial, lemonade - carbonated drinks were just as easily made with the built-in carbonator. Even alcoholic drinks such as whisky and vodka could be made in moments.

I had picked up my machine from a merchant in Penirgman the previous month. I had had my eye on the new CM6000 model for a while and he offered me a very good price. Second only to my ship, it was my most prized possession.

I now had three ships at my disposal. Back home in Chaven, my Impairor lay dormant. Since I had obtained a Punisher, I had no use for the slow, petite craft. I had left it behind when I moved out, thinking Ursula may make some use of it if the need arose. If not, perhaps Jacob would gain his pilots license in it when he was old enough.

My punisher had gotten me through plenty of sticky situations since I had purchased it all those years ago. Ursula’s father – being the old fashioned so and so he was - had given us 500,000 ISK when we got married as a most generous dowry. Sadly he had passed away 2 years after we were wed, which was when our marital problems had started. Ursula became rapidly distant from me and obsessively protective of our son. We had used the money to set up our home in Chaven and put the rest towards a ship which I could use to make a living – my Punisher, ‘The Pain I started out running courier missions, carrying arms to systems within a 10 jump radius. The punisher was ideal for these runs and although a little dangerous – which concerned Ursula – these jobs paid well.

Once I had gotten attacked on my way to Afivad. Six pirates had jumped right out of nowhere when I was nearing the jump gate which would take me into the system. They hailed me only after depleting my shield and half of my hull integrity, demanding that I pay them the passage fee of half my cargo or accept the consequences. I didn’t stand a chance against four Serpentis frigates, with only a gatling pulse laser to defend myself with, so I said I’d pay them whatever they wanted, but not from my current pay load - as it was not mine to give. I said I would make a credits transfer to a named account if they would only give me the details. They agreed. What they didn’t know was that I hadn’t gone through three years of hacker training at the Chaven Academy! 

Whilst their greedy eyes were transfixed on the 25,000 ISK flooding into their account, I had drifted my ship almost un-noticeably towards the jump gate and as soon as I came close enough – jumped. I can only imagine the look on their faces when the numbers on their screens rolled back from 25,000 to 0,000 and then flashed up the image of a fist with its middle finger extended. Ursula never learned of that incident. I thought it was better for both of us that way.

After running numerous missions in my trusty Punisher, I was making a healthy wage for myself. The only trouble was that half of this went straight to Ursula and Jacob as divorce-maintenance fees. My ex-wife has been the source of both the most joyous and the most devastating elements in my life. Since she kicked me out, I had paid more towards the household than when I was actually living there. Now I didn’t even get to see the place - except when I went to visit Jacob and take him to the Space Trials for a day out. Or should I say, half a day out? Ursula didn’t even trust me to take care of my own son any more. When Jacob and I arrived back from our excursion, she would be on the verge of a panic attack if we were even five minutes late. I made sure now that we were never late. I didn’t want to give her reason to limit my time with him any further.

The rest of my money I saved. I had no major bills. Just the hanger rental at whichever station I was docked at the time. My biggest expense recently had been the CM6000 which I only bought last month. I guess it had been a comfort purchase to try and make me happier with my lonesome existence.

In the long run, I was saving up to get myself enough money to settle down at one of those Holiday-Stations out in the Placid region. This was not as easy as it sounds. More and more couriers were getting hold of larger ships nowadays and I was getting paid less and less to carry a larger pay load. My Punisher was struggling to cope with the demands on the cargo hold – even with cargo-expanders fitted. I was struggling to make ends meet and was no longer earning enough to pay Ursula as well as the Station-masters. I needed a monetary miracle – fast.

One day, I had just completed my arms run and wound up in the destination station’s bar, dwindling my earnings away in steroid pills and booze. I was approached by a tall, slim fellow in a very bland-looking grey outfit. I remember thinking to myself that you’d walk right by him if he stood still long enough, as he blended into the bare furnishings of the station almost completely – you might mistake him for a vertical girder out of the corner of your eye. He sat down at my table, uninvited, introduced himself as Handor Mainstrem and proceeded to talk at me. He had this irritating habit of making me feel more and more wretched for myself with every word. He said he had seen my type here before. That I probably felt like I had nothing to lose and absolutely no chance to gain from my current situation. Over several more drinks, he told me how he could solve all of my problems – well the main one anyway. Money.

The words I remember most vividly were ‘make more money’, ‘percentage’, ‘bigger ship’ and ‘Omen’. He was offering me a deal. If I was willing to give him 20% of my earnings until I could afford to buy the ship from him myself, he would provide me with an Omen. As I’d be making more than triple the profits running courier missions with larger cargoes, I’d actually be earning a heck of a lot more than I was at the moment – even after giving him 20%.  I agreed and shook his hand. I then collapsed and hit my head, the booze finally taking its toll.

The following morning I awoke to a sore head and a buzzing on my comm. Handor was at the door of my quarters and wanted to get me issued with my new ship right away, as he had business to take care of elsewhere within the hour. I accompanied him to hanger 18 where a gleaming Omen hovered gently above the docking point. She was only five years old and was in near-perfect condition. Handor went on to give me a brief history of the vessel. Apparently she’d had one previous skipper who had been convicted for smuggling and was now in jail. Handor had picked it up form a seized-assets auction for a very good price – he ‘had his contacts’, so he said.

Having signed a contract for the 20%, which I got checked over within minutes by my e-lawyer, I was handed the interface card and the security codes. Handor wished me well and said he would contact me in a week’s time to organise the finer financial terms of our arrangement. He turned and left, hurriedly. I stood, hung-over and in a mild state of shock at the auspicious change in luck I had just experienced. I was the proud owner of a cruiser.

With the help of some droids Handor provided, I spent the next few hours transferring my belongings over to the new ship and preparing her for launch. Sitting in the cockpit was satisfying. The last time I had piloted an Omen was at the Academy and I was feeling a little rusty. I tapped at the console and brought up the in-ship simulation program. All the Omens had a light-docking system. This meant they did not rest on the ground but were in a kind of floating state, tethered to the ground only by the umbilicus which consisted of the power recharge cables and the tubes which cleaned out the life-support systems’ atmosphere scrubbers. This loose tether enabled the ship to simulate gentle space movements which gave the pilot a feel for the ship’s yaw and pitch. The cockpit window would present the simulated image of an obstacle course through which you could navigate, without damaging your ship if anything should go wrong.

It came back to me in no time. After a few hours on the sim, I was ready to un-dock. Before leaving the station, I settled up with one of the Station-masters for the storage of my Punisher. It would cost me 2500 ISK a month to keep it stowed away safe from opportunist, hijacking hands. It seemed like a fair deal at the time, so I paid the man and then went to see what work I could get for my new ship. The first mission I got was to run a shipment of small projectile turrets through six jumps. I would be paid 40,000 ISK upon completion. Now that was proper money in comparison to the maximum of 10,000 ISK I had been paid before.

The route took me through Afivad, back to Chaven. Having stopped off for some additional supplies at a station there, I was confronted by a group of four Seprpentis vessels on my way out of Afivad. They were a little less hasty this time, however. Instead of just opening fire, they hailed me to stop and scanned my ship. They were checking for cargo to see if it was a worthwhile score. They also appeared to be sizing up my modules, to see what weapons I may have fitted. I sat nervously, pondering my fate – as were they planning it, no doubt. They seemed happy enough to suggest that I jettison half of my cargo to them to let me pass - but I had other plans. I played for time and spun them a yarn about how my jettison system was temperamental. Another ship came along just in time - that was what I was waiting for. The perfect opportunity.

As two of the ships moved to hassle the new arrival, I took the chance to experiment with my new rail gun which Handor had given me with the Omen. I had three laser turrets as well, so I opened fire on my remaining oppressors, who I caught completely off guard with the unannounced attack. My lasers disabled their shields within seconds, leaving them wide open for the kill. I then proceeded to shred their hulls just as quickly with regular barrages from my new rail gun. They didn’t know what hit them. They didn’t even have chance to warn their friends in the other two nearby ships – they just heard the explosions. Next I raced, with afterburners on full, over to the other two and crushed them just as easily. Their ships cracked at the seams and sent their loot spewing into space for me to collect. My trophies.

Amongst the spoils, I picked up two decent cargo-expanders that day – not a bad day’s loot! I thought to myself, things were picking up already. Now I could travel without the fear of any old low-level pirate being a threat. I’d only received a small shockwave when the first ship had exploded next to me, no real damage to speak of at all. I finished my courier mission later that day and slept better than I had in months. My new ship and I were going to get along just fine. If I was going to be running more profitable missions, as well as gaining loot when the occasion to kick some pirate ass came along, money would no longer be such a problem. I just might get by.