Spirits were high at the NPI Navy’s Officer’s Club in the second ring of Leonard Nimoy Station in the LHS 3006 system. They were also flowing freely, thanks to one of their own having gotten a modicum of justice against the scourge that had descended upon their normally quiet volume of space. Not the pirate scourage that was the reason for their increased patrols, but the Buckyball Racing Club.
Granted, they brought in far more credits than they cost, due to radically increased level of tourism, facility rentals, rushed replacement part orders, and of course all the “triple pay” overtime, but it was a matter of principle. Privately, they had to admit that they'd cheered just as loudly when the BRC was someone else’s problem, but now it was theirs, dang it.
“Alright, so there I was on patrol at Bradford,” Lieutenant Katarina ‘Kit-Kit’ Castro said, repeating her tale for the new arrivals, “when I spotted her ship recklessly blasting through our rather crowded traffic. While she was using the station’s infrastructure as an obstacle course, I obtained permission,” she said in a loud voice towards a nearby table, “to break off and pursue. Now, she’s repeated the same route several times now, so I knew where she’d be going, and a pretty good idea of how long she’d take in the station before jumping out.
“Now, one of our aging Viper Defense Craft couldn’t hope to compete with one of those expensive and over-engineered monstrosities most of the Pilots Federation fly, especially in normal space, but despite the cheap knockoffs of the PF’s FSD in our ships, we can hold our own in Supercruise. So I was waiting for her at LHS 3006, and there weren't many ways she could go. Now here’s where it gets interesting…”
The massively muscled woman accepted another drink. “Now, I know those sons and daughters of Emerald like to call themselves ‘heavyworlders,’ and technically it’s true: Emerald is just barely beyond what’s considered safe for most unaugmented humans, but there’s no way one of them lightweights can handle the G’s like a native of Jade can… not that there are G’s in Supercruise, mind you. But we're both of a generation that remembers the bad old days before the FSD. The days where the only thing keeping you from dying from the g-forces, or going mad from the experience, was your Stardreamer capsule..."
She was interrupted by the bartender. "Hey, LT? There's another reporter at the door wanting an interview."
"Tell them to go jump in the fusion reactor. Politely, of course."
"Got it, LT."
"Sorry. My dad may say that whatever it was that led us to flee the Empire was taken care of, but I'm not going to take any chances. I'd rather stay safely anonymous... at least as much as I can. Now, where was I?"
"The bad old days."
"Right. Anyways, learning to fly back then leaves it's mark, even if you know better. So I took advantage of that quirk people like us have. Plus, it helps that I know that Cmdr. Stevenson has a preferred approach angle, even when she's trying not to be predictable. That's how I managed to get a tether on her. Not for long, naturally, because we don't get the best equipment, but just enough to leave an impression." Lt. Castro leaned back on her chair, a pleased smile on her face.
"I'm surprised you'd interrupt her race like that, Kit-Kat. I thought you were her biggest fan."
"Oh, I am. Got to root for the hometown girl, even if she's one of those stuck-up snobs from Emerald. But if she's in our space, she'd better obey our rules. Even if that damn Pilots Federation treaty ensures that most of those rules don't apply to them."