I thought I try my hand on this. :p

Quote:=== Germany ===
''Neutral-to-Friendly, mixed''
The relations of the German government with Fenspace is best described as being pragmatic. With several smaller groups in Fenspace having closer ties to their homeland then others, combined with a relatively good initial press for Fenspace, the Government tends to largely ignore what is going on in Fenspace ever since signing the Kandor Treaty and taking their sweet time to make new laws.
While access to Handwavium is restricted to the Max Plank Institute for Exotic Materials and the Bundesnachrichtendienst, 'waved items only need a license to own. In most cases this license is easily obtained, safe for items that may be used as weapon.
With a small space port in the Ruhr Area Germany can be easily accessed from Fenspace, through fen are advised to get the correct permissions for a landing and a reasonable flight plan before trying to land there. Generally it is only needed to file the request two days before the targeted date with the German Air Control.
One reason for the more pragmatic approach of Germany to Fenspace is a good going export of German goods into Febspace, as Germany generally keeps good relations with trade partners.
Main export articles are beer, various machinery, beer, tools, various alcohols (including beer) and beer.

Because planning for Maico's scoop chase, Frigga's OpFor spacecraft fleet needed to be rounded out. And I noticed there was only one waved helicopter on the Wiki.... so thought this'd be cool. And tried to get a distinctive feel as something Jet and Ford have built rather than anyone else.

Quote:The first spacecraft wholly built on 77 Frigga, the Gr-02 Havoc is unusual in that it is based off of a helicopter frame. It originated partly as a Friday project of Jet Jaguar’s, with the original intent being to save money over buying fully-capable combat craft for Frigga’s OpFor. Outright speed and combat range weren’t an issue when it was launching off the asteroid it was designed to attack.

The Gr-02 began with the Gr-01 testbed, a waved Mi-24 picked up cheap from somewhere in Ukraine where it had been left sitting in a field slowly decaying for about 35 years. It was still mildly radioactive when it arrived. The testbed was successful, if slow, but was much harder to control than the average Fencraft. Nevertheless it proved itself rugged enough to handle tough test flights, despite the tendency to phosphoresce in low-light conditions. Compared to background solar radiation, it’s negligible.

The Havoc built on the Gr-01, using a rotating, variable drive field to power it through space with the rotors themselves being essentially a massively upscaled variant of the lifting drives on a motoroid. This arrangement gives the spacecraft an almost unparalleled maneuverability at the expense of outright speed and range. A secondary tail rotor generating a second drive field counteracts the torque the rotary field generates, and keeps the Havoc from spinning like a top as it flies. The Havoc flies and maneuvers by varying the strength and direction of both drive fields, at the command of the pilot.

The Havoc is designed with ruggedness and ease of maintenance and repair in mind. The cockpit and main systems are armoured, with the cockpit windows being made from laminated transparent carbon. Most main systems have some form of onboard redundancy, or the ability to fail gracefully and tolerate damage. Outside the bought-in weapon controls and radar, the Havoc lacks complex computers. There is no onboard AI assistance, just a basic course-following auto-pilot. Switchgear and controls are heavy but positive in action. Instruments are a mix of analogue gauges and glass-cockpit displays where needed. No touchscreens are fitted.

The Havocs have the ability to mount some heavy anti-shipping missiles, and are capable of engaging other light attack spacecraft with a chin-mounted autocannon. In general, the Havocs only mount simulated weaponry for OpFor operations, but in a pinch can be reloaded with live munitions. Each one is fitted with a grab handle on the landing struts, allowing it to be transported by the Dragon Wagon II as a parasite.

The Havoc takes it’s name from the NATO reporting name for the Mi-28, which it was deliberately designed to mimic the external appearance of. Like it’s parent, it takes up to two crew, a pilot and a gunner/navigator. It can be flown singularly, provided the pilot can handle the workload.

The Havocs have been described as being something of precision-machined battleaxes.

Currently, there are two, both Frigga-built. Jet is trying to hire a flight crew for them, and find somewhere that'll put together another pair of them for a reasonable price because it takes ages using the 'basic' tooling on Frigga.

---Attributes.

“Fly like a Dragonfly” The Havocs are amazing maneuverable, even for a fencraft. They can spin on a pinhead, translate along any axis at near full speed, and generally pull off some spectacular aerobatics in the hand of a skilled pilot.

“Sting like a Hornet“ Havocs can mount a heavy armament for something their size. Guided missiles, rockets, guns are all available.

“Take a punch like a brick wall” Havocs are tough, capable of shrugging off hits that would knock out similar-sized spacecraft.

--

Havocs are short-legged. The huge power-sapping distortions put out by the rotor make for an inefficient drive, making it difficult to get them up to any sort of speed while simultaneously guzzling fuel. They have trouble breaking .065C, or going beyond 2 AU. Although hyper-maneuverable, they’re generally too slow to be much use in a dogfight.

Havocs tend to whip up debris as it gets caught in the field wash coming off the rotors, picking it up and flinging it around before it drops out. They also disrupt the drive fields of any fencraft getting close(10-20meters), especially those above and below the craft, and craft that are similar sized. It tends to repel both spacecraft from each other.... not hard enough to stop a determined collision, but enough to make formation flying a fine art.

These things are not easy to fly. They require a pilot with skill, experience, coordination, and excellent spatial awareness.

Anika Daini goes along with Ford Sierra on a Bounty Hunting run, about the new ship Dragon Wagon II....

Set in 2021/2.... technically Infinities, but I've got to do something with Frigga and the Sabers.

First part.... rough cut. Comments, suggestions, flames?

Quote:Friday’s on 77 Frigga were a day of rest, a chance for people to relax and pursue their own interests after a week’s work. Well, for everyone else.

Anika sighed to herself, and got back to tapping away at the keyboard.

Somebody had to keep the rock running. She cycled through the monitors, CRT’s flickering in her vision. Jet was at her daily practice down in the gym, while singing something about ‘down in Frigga rock’.. Daryl was alternating between doting on the Aeritalia F104 in the hangar bay, and kicking the Italian jet to death. Kotono was busy rounding up stray exocomps for her own infernal purposes.

And she herself was there, alone in the darkened control room. Monitors projected their data across her face in a harsh mixture of greens, yellows, reds and blues. Keyboards and switchgear were backlit a electric green.

It was all very techno.

Most of it was barely ticking over at idle. TITANIC wasn’t doing much if anything, while she was busy with exercises from the underspace. Anika didn’t know whether she was actually tired, or just bored.

Staring at the screen.

She downed a slug of cold water, allowing herself to cool off for a few seconds. These were tough. Test the system, find the vulnerability. How do you get access here? Defend yourself. Sneak through the barrier. Use a hardware lock. Write a script to automate....

She sighed again.

It had sounded like a good idea at the time. Nobody had told her how much work it would actually be. She finished up and fired it off to be checked and graded, and then to be told what she’d done wrong. And do the same over again.

Well, she agreed to it. She asked to do it... to be the hacker AI elite on Frigga. It was her own fault. This was her choice. She had to learn how to do her job.

The system chirruped as a message came back. Gina’d finished grading her work worryingly quick. She could feel herself heating up, her mind racing with the anticipation as she opened the mail.

“Hi, Anika.

You’ve improved a great deal the last six months. Are you sure you’re Beta level? Three blue marks on your self defence, but it is still good enough for a pass. Kick Jet in the arse to get you a proper interface for yourself and you’d be dangerous. Full details attached. A little more practice without that hardsuit wouldn’t hurt either.


--

Anika slouched down in her chair, relieved. There was no elation... no pride... just relief that her exercises were over for the day. She’d look through the report form later, after sending a quick ‘thank you’ in return. There was a lemon meringue in the fridge.... she’d treat herself to that. Nice and sweet and cold and satisfying with a wonderful tang.

TITANIC beeped to itself as it pushed an update out to all the systems incorporated inside it. She checked it up in the logs. A networking update, nothing special. It did that once a day. Push an update, analyse it’s performance and compare with the previous, make some automatic edits driven by an expert system, update again and compare. Automated evolution according to some coded factors..

Some indicators started to chirp to themselves as parts of the system ramped up to full load for a few minutes, testing the stability of the update. Some exocomps were busying themselves on general maintenance, while another two had disappeared off down the mines again. Just a navigation glitch. They’d be back whenever they finished whatever mysterious rituals the things got up to down there..

They just ran around for a few hours in the dark parts doing nothing, then popped up and got back to work as if nothing had happened.

Maybe they just needed a break occasionally. She sure as hell did.

The next exercise arrived from the underspace a few moments later. Good luck! It was followed by a quick news article about a liquid-helium overclocking of a quantum processor. She blew out a sigh of hot air.

If only...

And worse, her meringue had been mysteriously been finished in the meantime. Only crumbs and sugary cream remained.

Dare she lick?

Well... she was alone in there. And it was so sweet and tasty.

The door squeaked as it opened, throwing bright flourescent light across the room. Her eyes adjusted in an instant, a dark silhouette coalescing into the familiar form of Ford Sierra. Who looked completely un-shocked by the sight of a golden-haired computer operator lapping cream of a plate.

“There’s some on your nose,” Ford said, matter-of-factly.

Anika slurped it off with her tongue, the set the plate beside the keyboard. “Thanks,” she said, feeling her cheeks warm up.

“I was expecting a message, but I think it got caught in the spam filter again. Could you fish it out?”

It took Anika a few clicks to release the post. The console chirped, as it always did. It was a quirk. It had to beep and chirp and cheep to let you know it was doing something, and it refused to let you turn it off.

“Done,”

“Thanks.”

Ford leant into the monitor at the other end of the console.... zooming in. Rivers of electric light reflected off the metal on her arm, while lines of green text scrolled across her face. Anika had no trouble reading it, despite her not really wanting to.

It was bounty hunter stuff. Ford’s smile deepened into a lupine smirk as she spotted her prey among the file. Anika could see a pair of projected photographs, and a twinkle in Ford’s eye.

Ford pushed a bright button on the panel, the turned red under her finger.

“Hey Jet. I just got a really hot lead on a nice bounty nearby - a pair of dickheads using a stolen Blackbird to knock over transports. I’m taking the new wagon; it might take a couple of days,”

Why did that sound like an offer to Anika’s ears? She began to imagine herself free of this cyberpunk pit.

“Uhh...sorry,” the comm panel answered in Jet’s voice, “I’m needed on Mars tomorrow. Planning that demonstration for Saracon. Got to make sure we don’t accidentally kill each other. ”

“Shit,” Ford breathed.

A beat.

“Can I come along?” she said.

Ford blinked, and seemed to stare at her.... momentarily stunned. “Uh...” The mechanic’s mind seemed to be in spinlock “This isn’t a Knight Saber mission,” Ford told her after a few minutes, “You won’t have your hardsuit. I don’t really know what you can do,”

“It’s boring as hell in here. I just want to get out for a few days,” She sounded almost like she was pleading for rescue. “And Gina told me I need more practical experience without the suit anyway.”

Ford seemed to be thinking it over. Way too slow. These humans took far too long.

“Alright,” she shurgged her shoulder. “Meet me on the Wagon in a half-hour. If you’re not there, I’m leaving without you,”

The next thing Ford knew, she was being hugged by an andro id rapidly squeeing “ThankyouThankyouThankyou...”

“Stop!” Ford barked, shoving her off.

Anika stumbled, and blushed a bright pink. “Sorry... I’m just excited,”

And riding high up on a sugar rush.

“Well try do your best to get there on time,”

----

Anika scrounged around in the armoury for something that could fit. Body armour, helmet... a big assault rifle that felt huge in her hands, and a pistol that seemed oddly harmless. She lugged it all down to the landing bay, along with a backpack full of dessert mixes, and about a weeks worth of clothes.

She lugged it all with the help of a pair of exocomps who she could swear were looking at her funny. She was forced to go past some of the workshop areas in the lower bay, beside what used to be the worker’s canteen. A pair of windows allowed her to see what was inside.

The half-finished shell of an Mi24 helicopter sat alongside the powertrain from one of it’s deceased counterparts and a brand new bare-metal spaceframe that was supposed to be becoming something real special. A pair of hurricane engines were still in shipping crates from Atalante waiting. A desert-camo Su-22 jet fighter airframe that’d already been imaginatively christened ‘Fitter K’ watched over it’s rotor-wing comrades. Along with the Dragon Wagon, they were going to make up a nice unique fleet for attack and defense training scenarios

... whenever they were finished.

They’d been there longer than she had.

Daryl’s Starfighter lived down there too. A brilliant, silver-metal machine that looked like a high speed dart capable of punching a hole straight through the universe itself. She could hear the pair arguing from inside.

“Look, I just need another two,”

Kotono was pleading.

“Well I’m, using ‘em!” Daryl was annoyed. She always had an odd harshness to her voice that Anika just didn’t like.

“For what?”

“Stuff!”

The pair emerged, Daryl in greased overalls with her blond hair dirtied by engine oil. Kotono’s jet black hair matched the oily palmprint on an otherwise pristine white blouse. The pair looked at her, emerald and hazel eyes taking long moments

“What are you doing with all that?” they chorused

Anika did her best to inflate her body. “I’m going Bounty Hunting,” she declared

The two women shared another momentary glance.

Then starting laughing. It was deep, racause laughter that seemed to ring against the walls, and mock from all sides at once. Kotono had her hand over her mouth, while Daryl was doubled over like she was trying to laugh her guts up.

“I am!” Anika shrieked, feeling herself beginning to heat up. “I’m going with Ford,”

Daryl slapped a heavy hand into her back, before drawing her close and tight. Anika struggled weakly for a moment before giving up. “Little Miss Cyberpunk, a bounty hunter. What do you think Kotono?”

“It think she’s just making a run to pick up a fridge full of Bountys.”

Anika wore an angry pout for a few moments, shoving Daryl off her. She was stronger than she looked. Time to bring out the big guns.

“Quit ganging up on me,” Anika whined, giving them the teary-eyes.

The pair grinned in unison, big, toothy grins that were a mockery of friendship, “It’s what we do!”

“Boing!” Kotono added.

Anika sighed and dropped her shoulders. She’d just have to rig the exocomps to dump a load of old gear in their quarters, or trip the fire suppression systems. Or itching powder in the innerwear. It wasn’t just a one-way street.

She brushed passed the pair of them.

“Hey.... are you going to be using those two exo’s?” Kotono called after her.

She spun on her heel and stuck out her tongue at them. “Nyaaa!”

Feeling mature she strode confidently forward towards the freight lift that would take her down to the main landing bay. Echoes of laughter chased after her, and she ran into the lift cage, nearly outrunning to two exocomps.

The blocky machines hovered in front of her. Marker lights stared.

“Oh shut up!”

She slammed the safety gate shut, flaking off more decade old yellow paint, before switching the level selector over to the main bay. Electric motors howled as the lift began to dive, dry cold air rushing by.

Anika was starting to get sick with excitement.

-----

The Dragon Wagon II hung from the BIG BEA crane, fresh green paint gleaming in the overhead lights. The new ship seemed to bring a whole breath of fresh air to the vast cavern.... even if it didn’t even come near close to filling it. The bay made a big ship look small.

But it did still fit in a way.

For big engine nacelles mounted in a cruciform layout pushed a sleek body that reminded her of an ancient spear. Grappler arms folded snug against the cargo bays. It was still less than a week old. It was sleeping and cold, waiting to be brought to life once again.

“Wow,” she breathed.

Like most BAT-tech, it looked like it was blasting through the limit standing still. A ladder led up to the crane, which led down to the ship. Being a machine had its advantages she mused. She didn’t get tired on the climb, while the two exo’s didn’t seem to mind much either. They just hummed dutifully along all the way up.

Ford was waiting on the control deck, a dizzying height up. Most of the equipment had been stripped, the windows were gone and the skeletons of control consoles were beginning to rust in places, but the important equipment was still there, wired up to be remote controlled from the ship below.

“Oh, you made it,” Ford said, with mild surprise. She was still focused on the console, punching old switches.

“Of course I did,” Anika beamed, feeling a giddy rush rise up inside her and envelope her body.

This was going to be fun.

Ford glanced up at her, opening her mouth to say something, before finally comprehending just what she was seeing.

“Why are you bringing all that crap?” she asked, mildly.

“I thought we were supposed to bring weapons and stuff,” Anika defended. It was logical. It fit what she’d read on the web.

Ford’s eyes narrowed. “We’re not assaulting a Boskone base single-handed.”

It still startled Anika to hear the word ‘Boskone.’ It was a dark word that lurked in the shadows of the past, which threatened to jump out at the unwary and snatch them back into the black. She pondered on Ford and Jet having been there for the Boskone War.... and how nine years seemed to be an impossible length of time for someone who was less than three years old.

It was ancient history.

“Well” She glanced out a missing window frame, leaning against the metal for a moment. The ladder down was long, the lift ride up was longer.... “I could bring it back,”

“No time,” Ford said. “Just stick the gear aboard in whatever cabin you want for yourself. Y’never know. might come in handy.”

Anika practically bounded down the boarding steps like a flame-haired kangaroo, the frame of the stairway buckling a little under each successive impact. It really didn’t occur to her that a fall from that height wouldn’t have been healthy.

Aboard the ship was... well it didn’t really feel like a spaceship to her. The KnightWing was so cramped for three women, a cyber, a puppet and an android. Flint’s own craft had been a waved Hilux.... so this thing felt huge inside. It felt clean and fresh and new with that strange fruity scent still in the air. The paint on the main passageways was still fresh and clean and glossy. It seemed to be begging her not to touch and mar the gloss.

She picked cabin 5. It was her lucky number. The cabin inside was the same size as the KnightWing’s living compartment, with an individual bed, some storage space underneath it, a one-piece lightweight workdesk and chair set and an elegant shower/WC combo. She set up her terminal system on the desk, before slinging some of her stuffed animals onto the bed, and stuffing the battle gear under it. Next, she slung herself onto the fresh bedding.

These sheets had never even been slept in. Clean, crisp and as comfortable as her own quarters. A laminated card told her that this particular ship had been specifically fitted with a luxury cabin.

A knock on the door shocked her back into the real world.

“Don’t go asleep,” Ford said, with a smile on her face “We’re departing in five minutes,”

“It’s my first time on a new ship,” she admitted, a little ashamed.

“Don’t worry,” the bounty hunter reassured, “It was my first time a week ago picking her up. I’ll see you on the bridge.”

She waited for a minute or so after Ford had dissapeared, before leaving herself and stashing her desserts in the fridge in the galley. It was cleaner than her own kitchen. And better equipped. Something about that was deeply annoying, and she couldn’t pinpoint what exactly.

Oh well.

She made her way up forward to the bridge, feeling a momentary buzz through her body as the gravity fields switched over. Power conduits began to thrum. The lights flickered just once as power systems switched over to internal. The ship was waking up.

The bridge door slid open, revealing something wildly different from what she was used to. Flat-panel displays, holographic projections... it was so much cleaner the control room on Frigga. It was sleek.

Ford was busy in the forward pilot’s seat, prodding at the controls, brushing her fingers across glass screens.

“Take the second seat,” she ordered. “There’s an interface for you there if you need it.”

She slipped into a faux-leather G-recliner. Her panels came online immediately, showing engine and comm’s status at a glance.

“This is awesome,” she whimpered.

“Yeah, well it’s about to get awesomer.”

The engines throttled up with a high cold wail ringing through the frame. Anika could feel herself shaking as she glanced out at the rock walls. Far ahead, the main door seemed to be slowly giving way to black as it hinged up and in towards the ceiling. An outside counterweight allowed it to be driven by lightweight motors.

The ship shook as the mooring clamps came undone.

“And we are outta here,”

Ford punched the throttles, and the walls went backwards at a terrifying rate, giving way to a vast open blackness that seemed to thump her in the chest. The immediacy of the transition was stunning. It left her standing agape, unable to breath for a few moments.

“Wow,”

Ford glanced back at her, “You never did that before?”

“My station’s in the back part of the cockpit on the ‘Wing. There’re no windows back there,”

“You could’ve asked to come up-front, nobody would’ve said no,”

Anika pondered on that for a few moments. Then pondered how she was probably just going to be a passenger for the trip. Then turned her thoughts back to the word ‘Boskone’....

What was it like?

She glanced at Ford, banking the Dragon Wagon over onto a new course.

“Hey Anika, make yourself useful. Contact GreenHaven and rserve a docking bay for us. We’ll be there inside four hours.”

“Aye-aye!” she beamed.

-----TBC>>

August 18th, 2011

The Toy Box stood in the center of the rather small worn concrete field that was the brand new ‘Raumhafen Rhein-Ruhr’ in Essen as the only fencraft serviced. Well, it was more of a landing field added to the small local airport.

It had caused quite some political fallout then the red-green government of NRW had managed to get it through the Landtag, the opposition not very keen on the prospect of a space port in NRW. ‘What if there is a handwavium spill?’ was one of the harmless questions.

Right now Naedial could see some protesters outside the small space port. Most likely the brown idiots who lived in the past...

"Be careful with that," she then yelled at the driver of a container truck as he tried to maneuver his machine under the open loading bay of the Toy Box, trying to ignore the firetruck that stood not far away to handle any possible 'wavium spill.
Hadn't the search of the ship been enough?

The driver glared at her for a moment, but did not respond, through Naedial was sure that it may have been not very friendly.

She winced as he narrowly avoided the back of the bay and then sighed as he stopped. There was a multi-million Astra satellite in there. She watched Danni hop down from the top of the loading bay, preparing to attach the container to the ceiling of the bay, while the driver detached it from his truck.

She sighed and shook her head. They had only wanted to pick up some machinery for their new ship, but Astra had heard about it and managed to get them to pick up the satellite for a hefty amount of cash. Enough to pay both the lathe and the high end 3D printer.

"Hey, Nae," she heard Terris call out behind her." Did we order these guys?"

She blinked a few times before turning around and face five young people who stared at her, carrying bags under their arms. She blinked again before she remembered.

"Oh our new apprentices..." she made and chuckled.

It was a new little test. When the Board of Whistler Orbital Services, meaning the crew of the Toy Box, had decided to build themselves a second much larger ship, Project Henry Whistler, they had realized that they needed some people to crew the ship. And people who could work in space.

So this little idea had been born. They would look for some people with good schooling, mostly math, physics and English, who had already been trained in technical jobs, like mechanics or electronics.

After posting a few ads into a few German newspapers, saying that they were looking for people who wanted to do an apprenticeship to become an Orbital Service Technician, there had been a large echo and several ten thousand of emails.

Thankfully SENECA had sieved through the mails, managing to catch a couple of thousand mails that were obviously fake or just fun, while others were just not qualified. Either bad marks or bad social skills. It had been good to ask for a criminal record and their favorite fandom.

So here they were, five young people between 19 and 25 years, three guys and two girls.

"That redshirt is a bit overkill," she noted at a lanky maybe 20 year old. "We’re not Trekkies. They are at Mars."

The guy in question blushed, while it managed to loosen up the others and get them away from staring at her. It made her uncomfortable. Bad enough that she was easily one of the most visually strangest biomod in cis-lunar space.

"I’m Naedial Warringer," she said and stepped up to them. "I’m the one who has to play boss for this bunch of fen. But you can call me Nae. This is Terris, our astro monkey."

"Oi," Terris made." I resent that remark."

"Hey, you are the trained astronaut in the crew."

The little barter between the two managed to loosen them up a little more and made them chuckle.

"Better loose that tension. Its not good for us up there. May get us all into problems."

That tensed them up again and Naedial shook her head, before waving her hand into the general direction of the Box.

"Come on, we get to the introduction in the Box. That way you don’t have to repeat yourselves."

The five nodded and grabbed their bags, following them towards the space ship.

"How do you get that into space?" a muscular guy next to the redshirt asked, making Naedial chuckle.

"Like this," she said and waved her hand.

"You... ‘waved it," the redshirt said, fumbling a little with the unfamiliar word.

"Pretty much," Naedial noted and looked over towards the truck.

The container was now hanging in the loading bay of the Box, cables pulling it up, while the truck driver gave them another dirty look before climbing into his semi.

Reaching the main air lock, she poked her head through it, before the rest of her body followed. It was a tad strange to get into the ship under full gravity when you were used to it being in mirco-gravity.

"Fee, call everyone up into the kitchen," she called out." We got our newbies."

------------------------------------------------------
AN: I hope there is no problem with German being a liberal enough in 2011 to allow a small space port.

So while walking around, enjoying the new content, I got a call to talk to a new contact, an arested lost in Skyway city.
So out of curiosity, I went to see what was going on... and did the first (of seven parts) of "Who Will Die?"
This thing is like a mini TF, similar to the one's in Ouro (so you can solo it), made up of 3 missions, first 2 have Boss's at the end while the third has an EB and then a boss.
It was pretty fun to do on my level 12 brute, I could go on with spoilers... but I won't, go play this, enjoy the story and it's relativly quick.
As for the rewards for this are the following.
4 Merits (okay)
1 Hero merit (so.... something worth 50 normal merits and 2 mil inf)
1 Astral Merit
10 Incarnate Threads.
So... nice, fun, quick and has a huge pay out

This is all the funnier because it is so true. ^_^

Kinda surprised no one has really thought of using this one, so I'm
gonna snag it mainly for the Roughnecks - the Roughrider's construction
battalion.

Really, the shortest way to describe these ships is 'space tug' but that's a huge injustice.  For one, it's modeled after the XGP15A-II from Outlaw Star. 
Most models sold on the open market through Black Aeronaut Technologies
(BAT) resemble the basic version that is first seen in the anime.  The
basic models come in two varieties: one with two AI cores (one to handle ship
operations and another to handle navigation - especially the complex
nature of grappler operations), and another with a single AI core and a
standardized interface for infomorphs (the 'Melfina' setup).

The primary difference between what is seen in the anime and the
offering by BAT is absence of the counter-rotating etherspace drive
fins.  Instead it is capable of the Fen's normal FTL travel and, for
some, appears much more sleek without them cluttering things up.  The
engine nacelles are also marked as being longer and sleeker than those
depicted in the anime.  This is to support the Blackbird-style drive
system which include it's own self-contained reactors, making them
engines in a more true sense of the word.

With this kind of power, the Outlaw-class
is capable of hauling entire building kits, plus tools, and assembling
them on-site.  Of course, this also means that an appropriately
customized Outlaw can be taken to the asteroid races and put in a good
showing for itself.  While not the fastest ships in BAT's hangar, an
Outlaw will certainly get you there with an unburdened top speed of
0.1c.

Due to the nature of their intended jobs, these ships have shown to be
far more robust than most fen ships.  The alloy that composes the
vehicle frame and grappler arms is comparable to Gundamium alloy in that
it has a remarkably high tensile strength and temperature stress
tolerances.  It is also capable of flexing while resisting bending until
its stress tolerances are reached.

Basic Outlaws come with staterooms for eight crewmen with all the basic
amenities for comfortable living and work in space.  They are also built
with ease of maintenance in mind (the only exception, of course, being
the quad-helix ion focusing elements).  This makes them ideal for both
owner-operator businesses or corporate fleets.

Finally, Outlaws can be customized with any task in mind - construction,
search and rescue, combat, and even racing.  The grappler arms are
modular in construction, and in addition to the modular bays, it allows
an Outlaw to be repurposed at a moment's notice.  There will even be
mods for q-ship ops, but those will be highly restricted.

Thoughts?

I think I came up with a non-insane-cost version of Doug's power.  It's hinky, and would require full GM approval, but I think this works it out.
Ultra Power (Supers, pg 30)
(Always On [effects are dangerous; Mitigator {Non-Resonating Music}], Cosmic: No Die Roll Required, Extended Duration [x10], Magical, Nuisance Effect [Unpredictable], Reduced Fatigue Cost [14; not sure what Doug's FP total would be], Reduced Time [13], Reliable +10, Trigger [Common, Resonating Song]).
With Multiplicitive Modifiers, it comes out to 303 points.  Not bad for a power that lets you do pretty much anything.  There's also room for plenty more limitations on that sucker.

The sock that's still here is definitely Ms. Right from my point of view, but the scissors have eloped with her twin instead. Why?

- CD, just doesn't understand
--
"Anko, what you do in your free time is your own choice. Use it wisely. And if you do not use it wisely, make sure you thoroughly enjoy whatever unwise thing you are doing." - HymnOfRagnorok as Orochimaru at SpaceBattles
woot Med. Eng., verb, 1st & 3rd pers. prsnt. sg. know, knows

I'm throwing this link up for group discussion, because it has great implications for fanfiction without the article ever referring to it.
http://chronicle.com/article/Uncreative-Writing/128908/
-- Bob
---------
Then the horns kicked in...
...and my shoes began to squeak.