Vin’s ship drifted back to the station, battered and torn. He didn’t look much better.
He had finally located some of the other test pilots – Commander H. Solo’s voice had appeared on the aftermarket ship comms and for the first hour, they’d been testing flight maneuvers.
“Overconfidence is a killer” Vin mused.
Solo had noted that someone had painted a blue frog on the hull of Vin’s craft – something that the M’Dib had used for target practice. Even the Snuffler (Vin still couldn’t believe that was his real name) had pinged projectiles off the image until the ship exploded.
“Twenty five test ships. Twenty five. One quarter of a ton. I’m glad Commander Braben is picking up the butcher’s bill for this one…” Vin called to the maintenance crew in the bay. “What I want to know is HOW they knew I’d pick this ship up on the last sortie?”
He had “died” in blazes of glory in as many ways as there were thrusters on his ship. Crashing, being snuffed out by the Snuff, angry Anaconda turret firestorms and just about everything in between.
To be fair, he’d asked for trouble from the outset. Walking into the Ethics scenario in a shiny new ship, gun ports open and gaining an immediate pseudo-bounty was even better than having a blue frog painted on your hull.
He slapped the technician on the back with a big grin. “Bloody good fun, though.”
Pushing his flight log card into the machine, he looked at his watch.
Just enough time for a beer at the Thargoid.