1. Gather Round, Me Hearties…

...And let me tell ee about the time I was last in Freeport. Deadeye Gargunza. Aye, that's a name ye've heard. A right mad bastard of a captain, and we were his crew. Well, some of them, anyway. Not his trusted men, like 'Mad' Mac Macdonald, or 'Desperate' Dan Farquarson, or his feared oppo, 'Iron Man' Stark. But his crew nonetheless.
Of course, he had a reputation. A reputation his crews didn't last long, barring his trustees. But we had a pocketful of cash and were itchin' to spend it, and though his gaze was deader than a… dead thing, he'd done alright by us.
So, there we was in the Jovial Orycetropus - and don't be tryin' to say that with a belly full of the good stuff. A fair sort of place for a drink. Unremarkable, ye might think. So did we too, until that night. Seven of us, there were. Meself, of course, plus a pair of lilly-livered Esteelers, one with a sob story and poor dress sense - Giles. There was a Venerian doctor, Cpok by name - a cold, money-grabbin' cove - a man after me own heart. Or whatever else he could lay his scalpel on. A Martian belter, 'Ape', they called him. A Xyonist - Yehowdy or somesuch - a big, tough man. Ex marine. And another one. Sven. Quiet type. Engineer by trade.
We was drinkin'. By Mukul, we was drinkin'! The Esteelers couldn't handle it of course, but I was shruggin' it off like the practised spacer I am. Then what should happen but a man rushes in, shoutin' it's a raid. Well, we didn't pay too much mind at first. Not til we heard the shootin'. Then we sort of took notice as you might say. The patrons was runnin' out into the alley, and outside there was hordes of the Filth, tooled up to Heck and back, and makin as free as you like with their projectile weapons. I counted a hundred, and tanks too! And this on a space station, mind you. So, I'm thinkin' - Israel, this isn't the place fer you to hang around. Fortunately the owner of the establishment was an obliging sort, and for 50 creds of the Esteeler's money she showed us the back door. Not that that helped much, for there we was amid the dustbins, with no way out and the police closin' in. Cpok only just locks the back door in time to keep 'em at bay, and there's already bullets rippin' through the door.
So this is a pretty pickle. But then I spies a little grille down by the floor. "Into there!" I shouts, and down we went - with one of the Esteelers as a canary at the front like. Out through the air ducts, bullets rattlin' around us, and them heavy boots clanging around. We got to a main corridor and suddenly it's not bullets but SCA bolts that are flyin', and you can be sure we ducks back double quick. Marines too! They're really after my hide this time, I thought. But we foxed 'em. Doubled back and thanks to Cpok, who's also a computer-ey soul, we gets a maintenance plan and gets to another one of the main corridors, only what's like curved, so they can't see the whole length from their guard posts. Nips across it - and gently puts the door shut just as the patrol comes past, nicely as you like.
Then it's up an air riser, twelve decks of haulin' ourselves upwards, or towards the centre as it were, seein' as the station is rotatin' for yer artificial gravity, like. But what should we see when we gets to our shuttle deck?
Gone.
Ol' Deadeye's done a runner and left us in the lurch, and you can be sure it's no accident the pigs was searchin' the sector where we was drinkin'. He's tipped 'em off like. So now we know why his crews don't last so long, and mebbe there'll be a reckonin' someday. But right now things is getting' a bit serious. Trapped on a station under lock down, so we is, with Marines crawlin' all over the shop and police everywhere, stirred up like a mighty hornets nest. Hallo, says I - this is not fer me. Fortunately for us all, I knows a man. No names, but he's in the smugglin' business, and he says he can get us off the station. For a fee of course. A fat thousand credits up in smoke. But we had no choice, and like I say, we was flush. A thousand credits was like small change to us.
And so he gets us into these packing crates, in our space suits, and that's that. Dropped planetside as fast as you like to land at an "undisclosed location". A bit of a rough ride it was, with some powerful Gees when the retros come on, but nothin' an experienced spacer like me can't handle, and straight away I hops out when we touches down and keeps the coast clear for the others as they recover like.
So then we're in this jungle and… well, powerful thirst this story tellin' gives a man. Why yes, I do believe I will, thank ye very much…

'Israel' Hands (with some apologies to his comrades for poetic license…)

2. Mak "The Knife" Cpok : Personal Data Log: Freeport Tube

Great start to the night! Found a great new plunge to drink in and managed to sell a few "pink" to some young Pac-pups. Bought the gang some decent snooks after Richie proved rather flax with the readies.

Watched all the others get gradually more and more mukulled and played with my knife for a tad to provide my own shits and giggles. Was up talking to the plunge mistress and getting a few more snooks when this almighty bombast starts up outside and the local Plods and Marines set about rooting and shooting up the quad.

We transitted into the kitchen and after showing the local oliver some new cuts for her dishes we gets out through the ducts out back. Bit of a rat run before we gets free from the quad, and link up with Yehudi who seems to have spent several hours under the table watching boots.

Helped Yehudi get a tube maintenance map off the websters - can't believe these joneses still use p-words a child could brash out. Snuck through another duct to the shuttle sty only to find out our shattin skip had gone and skipped. So its back to the synapse rumble and we gets one of Israel's tube buddies on the pad. Turns out the whole establishment is after the hides of every independent on the tube.

Time to get off the tube and down to the rock double quick time. Israel's buddy sorts an express elevator for us, and I manage to slip the gang some PKs to see us all through the gees. Ended up in some jungly in a hutch - all bruised and battered.

So much for a thrilling night on the tube!!

3. 'Call me Sharan'

We'd just spent 100 plus days in space and were looking for a good
drink. We got off the ship, paid off our debts and took the rest of our
readies down to the Jovial Orycetropus for a good bucketful or two.

There was a fair number of the crew in there, along with a mix of the
usual folks from the spaceport that didn't want to be disturbed in their
drinking by anyone official. It was well known that the local police
would keep away from the place.

Me, I was sitting with some of the other junior officers from the Evil
Dead. We were some of the more experienced crew of the ship, other than
Gargunza and his cronies. There was Mak Cpok (the Doc), Israel Hands (an
astronaut), Giles (the robot tech), Ape Praxis (Ship's Engineer), Richie
Gazember (shuttle pilot) and Sven the Silent.

We were having a good time enjoying the drinks (although Giles and
Richie were lightweights and not handling it at all well). I'd just got
a round in when this old bloke came over to chat with us. He claimed to
be an old old pirate from long back that had survived by keeping his
wits about him. Anyhow he wanted to warn us about Gargunza and offered
to get us on another crew if we wanted to take his advice to clear out.
He claimed to have once been aboard Gargunza's ship as a crew and had
escaped, and none of the other crew had except the senior officers.

Well we weren't having much of this, although we did buy the old fellow
a drink out of respect for his age and ability to tell tall tales. He
told us a few about what Gargunza had been up to in the past, and
interesting they were too. After a couple more drinks Israel was
starting to feel the pace too.

Cpok went to the bar to get some more drinks and was away some time. I
was beginning to wonder what he was up to when some drunk came running
in shouting that the local police were coming to raid the place and that
they were arresting everyone in sight. Most of the people in the bar
just looked at him and carried on drinking. Coppers don't bother
you in the Jovial Orycetropus, not unless they're new at any rate.

Moments later there were several shots outside. That grabbed the
attention of most of the occupants of the bar who panicked. Me, I just
sat and carried on drinking, although only Israel stayed with me. In
about five seconds flat the bar had emptied apart from me and good old
Israel. Outside we could hear the coppers approaching, they were
shooting some of those attempting to leave the bar and others were
banging their batons on their riot shields. They also has a couple of
support vehicles with them. It looked like the entire force had turned
out.

Israel decided that he wanted to leave the bar too and he got up and ran
as a couple of the coppers broke the windows on the bar. I just sat
still and blended into the darkness. They didn't see me, although they
did chase after Israel. I carried on drinking from under the table, it
would have been a shame to waste the drinks by getting broken glass in
them.

A dozen coppers came into the bar where I was sat and turned on the
lights. With no darkness to hide in I was very surprised that they
didn't see me. Whatever it was they decided to leave and chase the
others round the back of the building. I stayed where I was and calmly
finished my drink. By that time things were quietening down on the
outside, although it was pretty apparent that there was a serious
lock-down of the sector going on.

Inside the bar were half a serial of police making sure that the bar
owner and staff weren't going anywhere. Outside the window I could see a
couple more of them guarding the front door and making sure no-one left.
I guess the rest of the serial were round the back looking after the
rear entrance.

Anyway I didn't think that I was going to get any more drink and I
expected that the coppers would take exception to my presence if they
noticed it. So I hopped out of the window and after checking that the
two guards were otherwise occupied I wandered out of the door onto the
main passageway past the marine section guarding the corridor and across
into the next sector.

As soon as the corridor door closed behind me I got on the blower and
found out where the rest of the guys had got to. Fortunately they had
also managed to avoid the lock down and we quickly met up.

When we got to the warehouse we found it to be not only empty but up for
rent. The shuttle bay was also vacant and we found out that the SS Evil
Dead had sailed without us. We also noticed rather a lot of official
activity and it appeared to be directed at us. I called up my old mate
in the local Marine Armoury and asked him what was going on. He was
somewhat surprised to hear from me as the entire station Marine Regiment
and Police Force was out looking for me. He suggested that I get off
station sharpish along with the others.

Fortunately Israel knew a chap that could get us off the station within
an hour on a cargo drop, although it cost us the rest of the money that
we had left. Still it was better than having to deal with the
authorities, and anyway the cargo drop sounded quite exciting. We
strapped into the pods in space suits and were towed out to be dropped
on the planet, a bit like parachuting only from higher up and with more
serious deceleration.

Good fun, but perhaps a little bumpy on landing. Anyway we got out in
one piece and all we need to do now is get back into space and get on
with tracking down the SS Evil Dead and getting revenge on Gargunza. The
sooner we get off the dirtball the happier I'll be.

Yehudi Sharan
Ships Systems Technician - currently for hire

4. Impressions of #1 by Richie Gazember

Essay: WHAT I DUN WHEN THE ORBIE PIGS WOZ AFTER ME [even more than usual, heheh]

I WOZ the business, o my brothers, with a cool DANDY GRANDY of CHIPS burning a hole in my tan leather crotch-hugging moneybelt, oh yes, did we apply the piratey-pedals to the butties of these patho-sad merchies nearspacewise, we did oh yes.

DRINKIE WINKIE DRUGGIE-WUGGIE knock it back, knock it forward, up down, knock it till it feels like you're drunk, what's wrong with being drunk, you are properly drunk when you fall over and you still have to hold on to the floor. Spin spin a spin spin Whoa there bald eagle! Who diddled the GRAV on this swut-hole of an ORBIE? Awwww Ralph, Huey, Ralph McSplatter

BAM screamie oh shti more screamie BAM lights on floorshow runnie BAMMO

WHO INVITED THE GODDAM CRUSHERS??? Run away. Run, and hope it's a bad dream, a pink-induced daymare of law enforcement, oh yes, oh, oh.

IT GETS PIMHOLING WORSE we ain't DEAD AS ROADKILL only cos I save all their worthless poxy vacuum-scarred hides by spotting an escape route behind them BINS [don't expect GRATTY Richie it never haps] and we run being SHOT AT through a filthy maze of tin pipes vary-G libby scattoed with dead rats, dust and shti. More swutting cops than a paydirt whorehouse on aphelion eve. Shooting at me. ME.

Scape scarper. CARGO SHUTTLE TEN GEES? Better than death but only just. Owowowowow Dirtside, well fcuking yip fcuking pee.

WHEN - WHEN - I meet Gargunza and his guys, I will smile sweetly o my brothers, then wid your assist I will get RENAISSANCE on his ass! [That's like 'getting medieval', only with better technology and realistic perspective.]

You love me? I love me too! Don't fcuk with:

Richie Gazember
[FOR HIRE orbie shuttle pilot, competent combat, can interrogate, call %%%%%%%%%]

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