There's painite in them thar asteroids...

There's no such thing as a gold rush these days. Just drop in on your local extraction economy and pick up a few tonnes. Expensive, yes. But there is an indifference to it now that history channels enjoy recounting tales of the early frontiers when Sol was all we had.

So a new market has opened up for highly mobile socialites. It just takes a few brave souls to find some and get their hands dirty digging it out of an asteroid. Running past the local pirates who demand you stand and deliver. Selling at a station for polishing, mounting and trading at a jeweller near you.

No doubt people will die for this.

So the bright sparkling young socialite things can play my daddy is richer than your daddy.

If you discovered a source of this rare mineral, would you stake a secret claim or declare open for all?

Reprise at Sorbago

I wasn't sure I'd have reason to be here again so quickly.

The last time it was all out bloody war.

Senator Torval had committed forces in full suppression of the slave rebellion, calling on the commanders of the Federation of Pilots to assist. Many came and not all fought on the side of the slaver.

I was one of those pilots.

The uprising lasted for 10 days while I sought answers on why the slaves had fought back. Combat failed to tip the balance. A tenuous trail to the Federation via Mastopolos Corporation went cold, and intel from captured transmissions was too little too late.

Its gone quiet. No one else seems to care. A lone capital ship stands on patrol, and another in the adjacent system of Synteini. All quiet I'm sure.

I'm back. To wage war again.

This time armed with a box.

[Reprise video blog series: The Slave uprising at Sorbago]

Two jumps out, three jumps back

The sediment of the Gerasian gueuze beer settled at the bottom of the glass: illuminated motes of light like the cluster of stars fronting a nebula.

The Alliance terraforming initiative has certainly paid dividends.

A modest 9 trips over two days netted a tidy profit and I don't feel any need for a grumble. Even though the trade trip was essentially one way, what with terraforming planets being very demanding, there were a number of side missions accumulated. The box can deliver on those as well, and it even became worthwhile making a detour with enough contracts to fulfil.

Bubbles in the beer continued to pop with glowing vigour, filling the air with a deep and heady aroma of fermented grain.  The dimmed lights of the booth leave my face awash with the bio-luminescence from the beer, gradually fading away as the level in the glass falls.

It hadn't taken long for the nearest source of land enrichment systems to dry up so jumps had to be made further afield. Much further afield. The range of a Lakon-7 is severely curtailed when loaded to capacity, so the two jumps for the empty journey out became three jumps to bring the cargo back. That could catch a trader out in a sparse volume of space.

There are more planets that need terraforming. I'll keep an eye out for those. Alliance space is becoming more attractive a place to trade for the improvements being made.

I pulled on the last mouthful, savouring the warmth and flavour of the brew. The waitress was being attentive tonight and smiled at me just as the glass touched the table, my booth having now fallen deeper into shadow.

The box had done well. I ordered another glass.

I could afford to.

Oh no, not again

So its a box.

"Isn't she a beaut? Nearly new with one previous and careful owner. Just look at those lines."

The lines are all square and angular and join very neatly to make sharp pointed corners.

The very definition of a box.

The salesman seems not to notice the laser scars and welded repair plates scattered across the hull, his eyes just a little too wide to convincingly match the smile stretched across his face. I resisted the temptation to point to details, after all he's still going through his sales pitch and we're not yet negotiating.

As we wander into the cargo hold I pass a guilty glance over to my Asp parked a few bays down. I'm still wondering if this is the right thing to do.

"Plenty of space. You can haul just about anything you want!"

The other end of the cargo hold is barely visible, though that could be only the small number of internal lights that still seem to be working. I let out a loud whistle and wait for the echo. 

"Excellent sound proofing! You won't hear any complaints from the cargo!"

So that's why the ship is now up for sale at what is already a good price. It has a history, and probably with one of those clans that like to sit on the periphery of a system accidentally making an occasional honest credit.

Back outside I point to the stubby and awkward wings that protrude from the side. The ship obviously needs additional cooling and radiative surface area.

"Oh ... they're for aerodynamic stability and have been known to land on planets. Notice the styling on the front for atmospheric flow and scooping through the corona of a star."

I nod as if imagining and appreciating the possibilities behind his words. I've convinced myself... but not for his reasons. It is time to change career again.

We soon get down to the detail of haggling price and terms. Nothing new here, money speaks and my Asp is in better condition for trading on and he knows it.

At one point I compared the box to an old and extinct Sol creature called a whale. He looked at me blankly. I could see him consider the negotiating benefit of asking the question, but the moment passed and it would have felt awkward.

"Er...what's a whale?"

I had my back to him and so cocked my head, pretending to wait for the echo.

We eventually settled on price and traded contracts. He left me with the access codes and wandering the ship as the new owner, his mind having already forgotten me and on to a list of buyers for the Asp. Conceding that it might just make it through an atmosphere, I still didn't quite fancy playing with the ground yet though.

The salesman had failed to mention how many had successfully taken off.

Wolf 1301 and the grinding of teeth

It is possible to walk past trouble in all innocence and not have to deal with any of the consequences. Wolf Fesh is one of them as I learnt today.

The drug itself seems like a strange experience to want to seek out. A locking of teeth and sharp exhalation gives it the street name, and the best cut is sold at Wolf 1301. The original and best so the marketing goes. Underground marketing as I've since found out, but then who I am to say. I don't sample the goods I'm trading.

The thing is that it's openly on sale at Wolf 1301. I bought some. Without thinking or checking for legality elsewhere.

I mean, an open commodities market in an anarchy system is still going to play by the rules, right?

Silly me. Too much knowledge about slaves and too little about narcotics.

Actually I bought several tonnes. Pretty hard to justify it as "personal consumption, officer" if I were caught with it.

So when I've travelled through several lawful systems without so much as an interdiction or an inspection, I'm not exactly feeling troubled by having it in my cargo hold. Of course I couldn't sell it on the legitimate markets of the systems that I visited either, and so kind of forgot that I even had it.

Until I got back to Wolf 1301 and realised that I hadn't sold any. About 400Ly as a round trip, so there's definitely no market as a seller of rares to the original supplier.

There's a need to check my air purification filters are working fully and inspect those cannisters for containment. I've noticed I've been grinding my teeth and exhaling sharply far too much recently.

I'll be wearing an air tight suit, naturally.