Morgor….

Vin sat back, yet again in the infirmary and yet again being looked after by an orderly with hairy arms and the odour of sour milk about him.

The Shady Lady had been retired, as had his Anaconda that he’d worked so hard to earn so he could “test” it.

It was rather sobering to think that another tester in a Sidewinder had used him as a dartboard and broken his new toy.

Recovering from the embarrassment, he had sat in the station bar until the latest update from Frontier had arrived. It was a big one and it had more deadly bugs than old earth Australia. It looked stunning and was full of great people, but the things with more than 4 legs had teeth. Poisonous teeth.

Frontier had finally decided to open up some more systems to testing, allowing a bunch more pilots to join in and releasing a major software upgrade to all the ships computers.

Yet again, he had been busted back down to a Sidewinder – Vin was slowly beginning to like the sidewinder (not least of which because someone had shown him quite how easy it was to break Sidewinders with it).

“Dude – could you grab me a coffee?”

“No coffee on this station. Stimpacks is all we’ve got. With or without steroids?”

“You’re kidding? What flavour?”

“Albatross.”

Morgor’s infirmary was much like the rest of the station. Grotty.

Romanek1

He’d launched from Azeban and started tooling around like a loon, testing out the new controls.

The first problem he had discovered nearly turned his backside into a large lump of immolated bacon. Who in their crazy mind had forgotten to put a sticker over the “supercruise” button that said something helpful like “don’t use this, it doesn’t work any more”.

Exiting hyperspace at Eranin, he’d nearly overcooked it into the star. Popping open the global comms forum, he’d taken a quick read and then checked. Same flaming button as the hyperdrive now. Foxtrot Foxtrot Sierra.

At Eranin, he’d lucked out – leaving the station was a Hauler with a Wanted sticker posted to its backside. Twin pulse lasers took care of it and a stack of valuable looking cargo spilled out into the void.

“Nom nom nom” the computer had mumbled at him as he scooped it. Back to the station double quick time. He’d not noticed his credits increase from the bounty, but instead a virtual voucher had appeared on his supplemental displays.

25k credits later from the black market and he’d upgraded the weaponry. Frontier had worked hard on the targeting computer for the fixed guns and they were a whole degree more shooty than they were before. Better than those gimbals and what was best was that there were two of them.

He’d poked and prodded the station computer into life and noticed that there was now a Bulletin Board. He could just imagine an old fashioned modem making that “beee-booop-gnarly-gnarly-gnarly” noise as it downloaded the latest fake missions for everyone to test.

Back at the destinations list, he noticed that all the interesting places had vanished. So – Frontier wanted us to find them the old fashioned way – by flying at them.

Picking up some new weaponry for the ship he had headed out to Eranin 2 for some destruction of Eranin forces. 350, 700, 1050 credits in vouchers racked up and then BOOM. Some dipstick space jockey rammed him and he was floating in space, shouting obscenities into his remlock.

This time, destruction was expensive. There had been enough cash left over for the insurance and soon enough, he had boosted out of the toast rack and back into space.

The Bulletin Board encouraged him to do bad things. Killing Eranin forces, destroying Fed ships, blasting civilians (he didn’t fancy this one as ships tended to hand around the station guns for safety then Sir Robin it away to the jump distance).

Racking up a few kills and some credits for the insurance (what utter utter leeches insurance salesmen were), he had stepped out into the inky wastes for some exploration.

Eranin…. Dahan…. Wibble three dot dash 2112… Morgor

Morgor? Chuckle.

One does not simply walk into…. Hang on a tic, had he heard that in the bar?

Hopping into supercruise on exiting the jump, he looked around – one of the major improvements was the ability to see other ships in supercruise. Well. It was faster than light so you couldn’t see them, but the ship display put up a cheese wedge on the screen so you could work out vaguely where they were.

Push the “comms” button. “Morning, Commander”.

Tumbleweed

Oh dear.

Next one

“Hello, commander”

Tumbleweed

Sod it. Morgor.

He was going to write it up later, but for the mean time, suffice to say it was an Anarchy with crazy writing around the letterbox. Nothing for sale. Nothing to do.

Jumping out to the planet, he spotted an “Unidentified Signal”. Catlike, natural curiosity laden, foolish thoughts appeared and he dropped out of supercruise.

Sweet Jeepers there were 3 Anacondas. First though – “oh fornication, can’t kill 3”. Then he realised that they weren’t friends.

There might have been a bit of a “muahahahaaa” at that point.

At the end of it, there were 2 dead Anacondas, a few vouchers in the pocket and 37% of the hull that wasn’t burned, leaking or buckled.

Back to the station then like a fool, he clicked launch instead of Station Services.

Out and back in again. Ok – out and spot a Hauler being mauled by an Eagle. Boom number 1 – then 2 and guts spilled all over space. Gold, Bertrandite, Equipment. “Nom Nom Nom”.

“Ship Scan Detected”.

Then there was a lot of laser fire.

Then there was an explosion.

Then the shrapnel had hit him.

Then there was a hairy orderly and painkillers.

So – Vin’s Gazeteer started whilst high on drugs at Morgor:

Quote:
Romanek’s Folly – Morgor”One does not simply hyperspace into Morgor” – well – not unless you’re low on fuel and it’s a waypoint.

Even the planet it circles sounds like someone with a debilitating cough clearing their throat. At least the Federation had the sense to simply name the 2nd body in the system “Morgor 2″.

This slightly decrepit Federal aligned station appears to be held together with nothing more than willpower and string. Maybe some gaffer tape.

The Hangar bays are leaky, dank affairs, with only half the lights working and more than one of the ventilation fans out of commission.

For the trader, there is a fairly low supply of Hydrogen fuels at around the 80cr mark and an abundant supply of various minerals.

Drugs, alcohol and everything required for the modern station-dweller to escape from the tedium of a broken station, leaky toilets and the hard manual labour of extracting minerals.
One does not simply hyperspace into Morgor” – well – not unless you’re low on fuel and it’s a waypoint.

Even the planet it circles sounds like someone with a debilitating cough clearing their throat. At least the Federation had the sense to simply name the 2nd body in the system “Morgor 2”.

This slightly decrepid Federal aligned station appears to be held together with nothing more than willpower and string. Maybe some gaffer tape.

The Hangar bays are leaky, dank affairs, with only half the lights working and more than one of the ventilation fans out of commission.

For the trader, there is a fairly low supply of Hydrogen fuels at around the 80cr mark and an abundant supply of various minerals.

Drugs, alcohol and everything required for the modern station-dweller to escape from the tedium of a broken station, leaky toilets and the hard manual labour of extracting minerals.

The population aren’t above using anabolic steroids to boost their muscles. As a result, regular fights break out in the station bar that only end when the scenery is no longer recognisable and everyone has red on them.
Unfortunately, no one is rich at this station, not even Romanek, so they won’t pay much for anything.

For the bounty hound – as a result, maybe, of the lack of rich pickings, the only fight you’ll get into is with the station, or a bored pirate using it as a refuel stop en route to Wyrd. Whilst it’s an Anarchy and you could reasonably expect piracy, murder and foul deeds, a bit like with everything else, piracy is in low supply as well.

There are packs of Anacondas that you can prey on if you had toward the planet. Near the station, there are the odd wanted Haulers and Eagles fighting. By all means, kill them, but if you scoop their cargo, watch out for the station guns. This is one area that they didn’t skimp on. They are fully operational and they sting worse then lemon juice in a fresh papercut.

Honest Marketing Slogan: “Morgor, a bit Icky.”

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