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37 - Due Course

I needed cash but wanted to stay off the radar, and I didn't feel much like throwing it all away in taxes, so I went to the port to see if I could find a station where my expertise would be good enough for my special employers and their affiliates.
Sure enough, a fellow at Moissan was having problems with a ration package, of all things. After the 61-credit hop, I pulled a swap. I think there was a cake in that one. Someone said you can't have your cake and eat it too. It must not have been real. He never noticed the difference. Apparently they DO taste better the second time. I'll take his word on that one. He even gave me 26 bonds and over 120 credits for it. Bon Apetit.
Perhaps I should take the shuttle more often.
While I was there, this crazy lady saw my Ship Tech tag and demanded that I install some research equipment for her. What was I doing putting this on that worthless ship? It was a "Stargazer Mark VII," the very latest in deep-space scanning filters, and it literally weighed a ton.
The ramp was at such an angle that it was difficult to climb it without any freight, much less carry a priceless instrument like that. I had to use a power winch to pull it aboard on a cart, and sure enough, Captain snot-nose just had to use the powder room right at that moment.
That gap-toothed, wrinkled-skinned, half-wit misfit ignored my warning and tripped over the cable. Off the ramp went the cart, tools and scanner, right onto the station deck, with a rattle that sounded like glass breaking. I could smell what she meant by needing the room as she wheeled around to give me a piece of her non-existent mind.
I am glad I had my armor on, because she grabbed a wrench and started swinging as she chased me off her precious bucket of bolts. Her stench was enough to do that job.
By the time I got to my room, the Portmaster had sent me notice of the complaint. I couldn't believe how much he said the station had been forced to pay to reimburse her for "my" clumsiness. You could buy a brand new ship for that. Maybe two!!
I was just so angry that I couldn't rest, so I decided to take a walk and look for more of my special employers. Along the way, walking through the ruins, who do you think I spotted? . . . My old buddy, El Bandito Peteo! Would that rifle marksmanship course really help me this time? Time to find out.
BAM - thud
Down he went, missing me by a mile as he struggled to catch his breath on the way to the ground. The alarm sounding overhead told me I'd better finish this quickly.
There he was, right in my scope, reeling from the pain, hitting the side of whatever kind of shotgun he had. He pointed it at me, squinting, as I squeezed the trigger. I hit him right before he fired, and his shot went wild, shattering what was left of a window, way off in another direction.
This was my moment. He staggered to his feet, I smiled, waved, leveled my Malinese Field Hand rifle at him, about hip level, and gave him a taste of revenge. I rushed over to him as he fell, leaned over him as he lay there helpless, and whispered in his ear . . . "Nighty-night, Vato."
I relieved him of his cash and hurried off to avoid unwanted attention. Sure, my sword was thirsty, but I'd be seeing him again. I can't wait to see how this knife mastery course from Spirit of Botswana changes things.