Sector2/Ladibe
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| Ladibe is mildly notable for its inhabitants' unusual silliness. |
| Old Galactic Catalogue Entry for 2:4 (Ladibe) |
Contents
Witchspace Routes
There are 5 direct Witchspace Routes from/to Ladibe:
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Trade
| Item | Price | Quantity | Avail- ability |
Annotations | ||||
| Min | Avg | Max | Min | Avg | Max | |||
| Food | 2.0 | 2.1 | 2.4 | 20 | 20.5 | 21 | 100.0% | |
| Textiles | 5.2 | 5.8 | 6.4 | 17 | 18.5 | 20 | 100.0% | |
| Radioactives | 17.6 | 19.0 | 20.4 | 23 | 26.5 | 30 | 100.0% | |
| Slaves | 2.0 | 8.2 | 14.4 | 5 | 20.5 | 36 | 100.0% | |
| Liquor/Wines | 19.2 | 22.1 | 25.2 | 30 | 37.5 | 45 | 100.0% | |
| Luxuries | 100.8 | 101.3 | 102.0 | 0 | 1.0 | 1 | 25.0% | |
| Narcotics | 2.4 | 58.4 | 101.6 | 0 | 36.1 | 61 | 56.2% | |
| Computers | 100.8 | 101.3 | 102.0 | 0 | 0.0 | 0 | 0.0% | |
| Machinery | 63.6 | 65.0 | 66.4 | 0 | 3.0 | 5 | 62.5% | |
| Alloys | 34.0 | 40.1 | 46.4 | 10 | 25.5 | 41 | 100.0% | |
| Firearms | 86.0 | 87.3 | 88.8 | 0 | 0.0 | 0 | 0.0% | |
| Furs | 45.2 | 57.8 | 70.4 | 0 | 32.0 | 63 | 98.4% | |
| Minerals | 10.0 | 10.6 | 11.2 | 60 | 61.5 | 63 | 100.0% | |
| Gold | 36.0 | 37.3 | 38.8 | 9 | 12.5 | 16 | 100.0% | |
| Platinum | 62.8 | 69.0 | 75.2 | 5 | 20.5 | 36 | 100.0% | |
| Gem-Stones | 15.2 | 18.1 | 21.2 | 1 | 8.5 | 16 | 100.0% | |
| Alien Items | 63.2 | 64.6 | 66.0 | 0 | 0.0 | 0 | 0.0% | |
| Average prices are based on long-term established averages (the so-called arithmetic mean). The average quantity is based only on quantity values greater zero. Availability gives a percentage whether a good is available in this system. Please note that these are statistical data. GalCop regulations expressively forbids the broadcasting of actual prices beyond the current system. | ||||||||
OXPs
The Ladibe system falls under the responsibility of the Navy Command Station 12 in Isonza, two hops away. The shortest witchspace path to ComSec Station 12 in Isonza is Ladibe -(6.0LY)-> Ersoonve -(4.0LY)-> Isonza. (Galactic Navy OXP)
Fiction
Travellers' Tales
Did you ever hear the story of Herman Seven Thursday? Old Herman, he was a green furry rodent from Cediza, and he flew a Cobra Mk.1 called the Magic Fish. By all accounts he was a solid guy, a good pilot and a sharp trader too. Back when the Cobra Mk.1 was still a pretty mean ship, Herman racked up some fat deals before the lanes got all cluttered up like they are now. He took the Fish all over, and wasn't afraid to run through a dozen Anarchies if there was money to be made.
So the story goes, one time Herman took himself to Ladibe. I don't know if you've heard of Ladibe: probably not. It's a low-rent dirtfarm in the north-east corner of the second quadrant. You know some Anarchies, however hairy they are above the atmosphere, down on the ground things seem to tick along okay? Well, Ladibe ain't one of those. It was settled by human colonials way back, but they've never got their shit together. They're still just banging the rocks, when they're not banging heads. But that was nuts to Herman: he flew in there with a hold full of top-end computers, and was looking to clear near on fifty credits a ton. A good haul even today, but back then a credit was worth something, you know?
Anyhow, Herman made it in unscathed, and sold his cargo, and bought up a load of furs at a price that would make an Isarinian whistle. He sealed the deal with a quick spike of Cea'allo Water, then went back down to the docking bay to check the loading and give the Fish a once-over. He wasn't no quarksman himself but when you're in a hick dump like Ladibe it pays to make sure the locals haven't fuelled up the cesstanks, or bent the baffles with a bull-hammer or some damn thing.
The docking bay was deserted when Herman got down there. It was local 4am or thereabouts, and not much trade passed through Ladibe anyhow. Not that there wasn't work to do; the bay was skanky, all slimed up with some sort of vacuum-hardened lichen. Great streaks of rust ran down the walls, making big red puddles on the floor; the lights were mostly out, and it was as cold as the Witch's tits. Herman checked around the Fish, eased off the clamps a little and was just contemplating the profit he'd make selling little furry hats to the commissars on Edsodi when he heard a scrape and a clang from the side airlock.
Some scutter, coming in from a stint outside, he thought. Herman glanced over to the airlock's inner door, peering through the porthole to see what kind of sadsack pulled a shift like this. Three things he noted, straight away: first, it was a Sosolean; you couldn't miss the big crocodile jaws, with those thin black lips peeled back from about sixteen rows of needle teeth; second, he was looking bad, with three-quarters of a duct-reamer sticking out from the back of his skull; and third, he wasn't wearing no EVA suit.
Herman took one step towards the airlock. I don't know why: neither, truth be told, did Herman. The telltale above the door still showed hard vacuum. But the figure inside the lock twitched, and its long head swung round to look through the glass. The eyes were black, folks: black as a hole and three times as hungry. Suddenly the red streaks on the walls, the liquid on the floor, didn't look to Herman like rust no more. That lizard stared at Herman, and he could feel those black, black holes pulling him in.
I don't know how long Herman stood there, gazing into those abyssal eyes; but he sure as shit moved fast enough when he saw a bony, frozen arm reach up inside the lock and start to scratch at the controls. Herman was up and over the nose of the Fish, slapping open the clamps and firing his engines before his canopy had even swung shut. The Fish went barrelling down the station pipe like a Nexaca Sidewinder, and Herman was screaming to the dockmaster to open the damn gates before he blew them apart. Well, they're not too hot on protocol in Ladibe and maybe it's just as well; the dockmaster must have heard something in Herman's voice anyway because the next moment the gates were swinging open and the Fish shot out on top of a screaming dockload of air, debris and ice.
It's said that Herman jumped near on thirty light-years, scooping sunshine all the way, before he could bring himself to dock at another station. When he did, he got all kinds of hassle, partly from his unconventional exit back on Ladibe, but mostly because he didn't match the clip on his license no more: his fur had turned sky-blue from the top of his head to the tip of his tail, and it stayed that way for the rest of his days.
Now, I don't know if I credit this, really; but old Herman, he never was up to much after. He sold the Fish, and ended up on a work-crew, building one of those See-Zed-Gee-Effs in close orbit around the star at Arorar. Said he liked the light there, and the warmth. But anyway, if you're ever in Ladibe, trawl through the archives: there's a report there of a missing scutter, a dock-jockey from Sosole who disappeared one shift, years back -- before Herman's day, even. No-one ever did find him, inside the station or out of it. Or so the story goes. Disembodied (2008)
The Traders Almanach
| Once you've got more Credits to spend, this would be best: Regardless which of my suggested items you buy, Verave should be your destination. And I would buy fur coats, bottles of the famous liquor they call 'Zaes' and radioactive isotopes - in that order. |
| (Excerpt from: The Traders Almanach entry for 2:4) |
