We left our boatload of lunatics trading up a storm at Shuruppak, where
Nikki was working on a reputation as a decent trader for a barbarian.

Easy Frag had piked with approx 20 minutes' warning.  Hex told me the
night before she wouldn't be lobbing.

The jump outbound from Shuruppak to Shulgiili was nice and routine, and
a _Gashidda_ patrol cruiser transmitted:

"Heave to and prepare to be boarded"

"Isn't that _our_ line?" - Mr Sweep

After realising that Das Boot could neither outfight nor outrun the
patrol cruiser, Drake ordered Rosa to do as the nice men with the
nuclear missiles asked.

The cruiser sent over an assault cutter, which ended up carrying one
rupert, one petty officer and 10 starcritters.

After receiving permission to board, the rupert put his foot in it.

"I never _practiced_ rupert management - I _was_ the bloody rupert!" -
Badass-Moustache

Starting by leaving Badass-Moustache significantly underimpressed - and
bearing a distinct suspicion the rupert had purchased his commission -
it didn't get much better for yon rupert from there.

Demanding, rather than requesting, that crew and passengers be mustered
and manifests of same be presented didn't go over too well either.

The petty officer heroically managed to avoid facepalming in public.

Bert, having heard the commotion and as impressed as Badass-Moustache,
decided to take his time answering the summons and rig a fake radiation
alarm.

El Capitane likewise takes his time, and tells Rosa to stay put at the
helm while everyone else musters.

"Personal space - MINE! All of it!" - Mr Sweep

The crew (ex-Rosa) mustered near the main lock.

Things headed further downhill for yon rupert - El Capitane wasn't too
far off helping the poor sod cut his throat shaving.

Eventually the petty officer intervened as his rupert "slipped" and had
to be helped back to the cutter - evidently judging he would receive
less of a bollocking for letting his rupert make a complete prat of
himself in public (nope, did not under any circumstances or in any way
shape or form strike a commissioned officer, no sir), vs lobbing back
with an ex-rupert.

After asking nicely and checking deets of those mustered, he asked if
this was everyone.  Having calmed down somewhat, El Capitane told him
about Rosa up on the bridge because _someone_ had to still be on watch. 
After asking El Captaine to warn Rosa, he sent two starcritters up to
check her papers.

Eddles groaned as the petty officer checked over Badass-Moustache's
passport - it turned out the petty officer was a fan and
Badass-Moustache ended up giving him an autograph-type signature.

Crew checked out ok - the two bridge guys lobbed back saying all was in
order.

When checking out the cargo, Badass-Moustache channeled Sir Humphrey
Appleby - a load of complete bollocks worthy of the Home Civil Service
about the folding tanks being necessitated by the ship's refit (they'll
be gone once we have enough boodle, take them out and carry a decent
cargo).  Rolling boxcars (and reducing other players + GM to helpless
laughter as he roleplayed it with a straight face) helped.

A retroactive Admin roll on Drake's part ("He's the captain - the one
they shoot first" - Me.  "What?" - Mr Sweep) ensured the cargo passed
muster.

With customs satisfied, the starcritters, their NCO and their
slightly-damaged rupert departed back to the patrol cruiser.

The next trick was landing - there was no highport, and they'll have to
put the Paradise down on the ground.  Just.  Like.  Procyon.

I let them stew for a bit - despite the weather and other elements, the
landing was officially great this time (vs merely good at Procyon).

With Easy Frag having piked, Badass-Moustache and Bert headed out to see
what they could trade.

Bert almost tripped over 4 dton of pharmaceuticals, and haggled them
down from 480k to 384k on yet more boxcars.

A different sod was trying to offload 4 dton of jump-drive-grade
lanthanum, and 5 dton of assorted machine tooling.

"Did a mining ship have a massive strike of the stuff and have trouble
offloading it all?" - Eddles

Bert, merrily ignoring the inability to _pay_ for 4 dtons of lanthanum,
haggled for it in all seriousness until it came time to pay.  He was
politely informed that wasting a less patient seller's time like that
would most likely cost his ship any ability to transact on the Market
here in future.

Badass-Moustache had better luck with the 5 tons of machine tools,
haggling them down to 80k.  He managed to offload the radioactives from
Shuruppak for 600k, sparking this bon mot:

"It must be the moustache.  They put in more effort than when they see
Nikki's open, guileless face."

The computers, being Imperial, were special-purpose and not networkable
with their Terran kit.  Out the berth they went for 1800k (off a list
price of 1000k).

As a result of Shulgiili being a water world (Hydro A), the Paradise had
refuelled before docking by the secret and ancient technique of kicking
a hose over the side, leading to this little exchange:

"We have whole tanks of compressed oxygen - why?" - Badass-Moustache

"We like ... breathing?" - El Capitane

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