Pi-42
From Elite Wiki
| Constore | |
|---|---|
| |
| Size (metres, W×H×L) | Unknown |
| Manoeuvrability | Roll: 8.0 Pitch: 8.0 |
| Rotating | Yes |
| Energy recharge rate | 8 |
| Armaments | None |
| Defenders | 8 |
| OXP or standard | OXP |
| Beacon | C |
YAH - Pi-42 Security Sidewinder
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This constore station is part of the Your Ad Here.oxp (see the history there). It comes with security ships.
Fiction
I am never going to love my Adder. It's too slow for my liking, and with only one energy bank to power my ship and shields I feel pretty much naked all the time in a universe-long gauntlet of frat boys with paddles that I have to pass through to pledge.
Okay, maybe not the best mental image. But it's got its good points too, once you pump about half its retail value back into it in the form of extras. Energy boosters, enhanced armor, electronic counter measures, fuzzy dice on the windshield... And a military grade super-duper pew-pew-kapow master blaster on the front. WOOO! How did I come across this good fortune? Well, it all started with one lonely convenience store somewhere between the Core Worlds and the Xexedi Cluster. One of those armpit places off the main trade routes that most people only see in their rear view mirror. I ended up there hoping to use it as a shortcut, only to find out that it was anything but.
GalCenter G1 ("Core Worlds"):
Xexedi Cluster:
Once I realized this, I figured there was no point in going planetside and just stopped at the Pi-42 for an overpriced top-up to get the hell out. Pi-42 is one of those places that doesn't even bother with artificial gravity. Strictly free-floating self-serve with a bored-as-hell attendant who is probably paying off a student debt. I figured I'd grab some zero-nutritional value mega-calorie junk food when I floated past the bulk cargo section. Found your usual stuff there. Bulk canisters of food and alcohol that truckers sometimes drop off here instead of the main planet - either because of pirate activity or just plain laziness. Computers, machinery, you name it, they had it. All overpriced. Names of a dozen corporations on the sides of the canisters, some of them no longer even in business. And then I came across the small boxes. The lock boxes. The stuff that fits in your cockpit instead of the cargo hold. Gold. Platinum. Gems. I figured they would just have a few left over scraps in each. They were full. At least twenty five kilos of each of the metals and a bag full of gems. Then I checked the price. Actually first I blew the dust off the price (which in zero gravity is not the best idea, since the dust takes forever to settle again) and then I checked it. They were under market value. Way under. Like potential 100-200 percent potential profit margin worth. I nonchalantly went to the counter and bought a Lave Fried Trumble-kebab. "Oh, and all this," I added, placing the windfall alongside it. "Looks like it's been here a while." The guy at the front had magnetic boots to better work the counter. They also kept him from leaving before his shift was done, and he looked the sort who wanted to do just that. Actually given Pi-42's shoplifting policies, it was entirely possible his servitude was not voluntary. He rang it up, not even raising an eyebrow at the ridiculous prices. "You wouldn't happen to know if you were going to be getting any more soon?" I asked, trying to sound indifferent. My attempts at being sly were wasted on the shlub. "That stuff's being sold on commission. Got a guy who keeps coming here trying to dump what he finds in the inner asteroid field on me. I had to tell him to stop until I actually sold the stuff we had. I guess I could send him a message and let him know we can take more now." "Does he come here a lot?" "Mostly for fried food. Crazy old miner. Obsessed with blasting asteroids. Keeps talking about getting a high score. The metals and stuff are just a byproduct to him." "Where does he get the stuff processed? Not here, I assume." "He lives on that ship. Got its own refinery. Just scoops, processes, delivers. You want any of the other stuff he collects out there?" "Like what?" The clerk shrugged. "I dunno. Those things are always taking up space." He pointed to some strange looking escape pods in the far corner piled on top of one another like cordwood. "He keeps dropping those off as well. No pilots in them, though, so I couldn't give him the mandatory slave bounty." "That's because they're not escape pods," I said. "Whatever. You know anyone who would want them?" I noted the distinct red and green hull markings of a Thargoid robotic fighter. There were at least twenty of them. "I might. Fill up my cargo hold with those and I'll take them off your hands." I left the Pi-42 learning two things. First, I was going to be making a fortune running back and forth from here for a while. And second, do not, and I repeat DO NOT ever try to mess with that crazy miner. Mossfoot (2014)
