When I woke up on Tuesday morning following a night of heavy cider drinking I found what follows typed into my iPad. Not quite sure where I was going with that last bit but hell, if my subconscious wants to enter into some kind of shady deal with Bump Barnum then so be it!
Cmdr Turner gazes into the last of his CafeineShot as he awaits the overground that will whisk him away from the rain scattered lights of the city and back to the WorkerSubs on the outskirts of the M.25.19. In his heart of hearts he knows that the 2nd hand FreecCyc parts used to re-rebuild the battered deck of the Mnemonic Null Fail were never going to win the prize. But he also knows he left a mark, a scratch, a noteable indentation perhaps, in the records. They will recall his name next year and remember ... and in the meantime ... if the puntz ask if his ship is fast? Kessel Run? Yeah ... she made the Kessel Run, and yeah ... she was fast, fast enough for you old man.
He flicks his Nico into the night air, pulls up the collar on his CowSkin and turns his attention back to the latest WotOutfitter. With the deals he's got going on, a sizeable bounty for retiring Kaushpoos pirates, the payoffs on those computer component contracts, and the other thing... Oh yes, he'll be on the grid, and perhaps one or two will nervously look over their shoulders next time and wonder.
He dials the number ... "Hello? Mr Barnum? About that sponsorship deal ... yes, definitely ... more than willing ... she sounds like a sweet ship ... well there's the Buckyball 9 ... what? ... the Mischief Mile? ... absolutely sir ... as ready as I'll ever be".