From Shulgiili (SR 1326), the Boat and its Boatload O' Lunatics ended up
in Neworld 1002 (IN... DEEEEEP... SPAAAAACCCCEEEE!).

By common consent, the Nikki-induced misjump was named "The Goofy
Holler" - with 27 parsecs, I think they managed to set a Terran misjump
record in the process of jumping clear off the IW-era map.

"It's a good thing we've got an extra jump worth of fuel" - Nikki

A GMing note here, Mr Collinson et al - if you're even _half_ planning
to do something like this, roll it up ahead of time and avoid looking
like a complete goose in the middle of gametime.  I originally had
planned for it to happen as they were evading inbound nuclear missiles,
but the best laid plains of a certain wombat didn't survive contact with
the PCs.

Another trick that I've been increasingly using with time is to
paraphrase heavily-used rules sections into their own open office docs -
it's a lot easier to look up, consolidates rules from multiple sources,
and I'm more familiar with that rules chunk for having paraphrased it.

I used the GT 2e misjump table because it had more opportunities for ...
fun - the most likely misjump direction using the GT table would have
taken the Paradise even deeper into the Ziru Sirka and having to evade
the Aasha Ziru Sirka (Vilani Navy) while running like hell for the UN.

A quick shufti indicated that Neworld 1101 had two gas giants that could
presumably be refuelled from (chalk this one up to Early Installment
Weirdness on remote survey ops), so Das Boot proceeded (not _quite_
Ankh-Morpork City Watch style) to the smaller, further out GG.

Here is where we can probably start charting Rosa's rise from a merely
_decent_ pilot.  A ship quirk imposing a -1 DM to all Pilot rolls means
it's a lot healthier to be lucky AND good.  However, with Pilot
(spacecraft) 1 but overall dexterity that would make alley cats jealous,
Rosa had to focus more on luck at the moment.

Wilderness refuelling (and other GG operations) are _nasty_ in MGT2. 
For game purposes, a GG is partitioned into multiple layers.  "Base
rate" fuel skimmage collects 1% of ship displacement in 2D6 minutes.

Wisp - too thin to skim fuel in useful time.

Extreme Shallows (aka Cloudtops) - fuel skimmed at 1/10 base rate, no
(additional) penalty to Pilot rolls, 2d6 of turbulence.

Shallows - fuel skimmed at 1/2 base rate, -1 penalty to Pilot rolls, 3d6
of turbulence.

Deeps - fuel skimmed at base rate, -2 penalty to Pilot rolls, 4d6 of
turbulence.

Extreme Deeps - too turbulent to skim fuel, -3 to Pilot rolls, 5d6 of
turbulence.

Depths - Unless specially designed to operate this deep, 2D6 of hull
damage each round, up to 6D6 if power is lost. -4 to Pilot checks,  6d6
of turbulence.

Abyssal Depths - You lose.

To transfer between layers, a merely average (8+) Pilot check is needed,
with the greatest Pilot DM applied as a penalty.  Eg, entering the Deeps
from the Shallows would apply a -2 DM.

If the initial check fails, you need a difficult (10+) Pilot check,
based on the layer you're currently in - failure on this check means
your ship cops the listed turbulence damage from the layer you're in as
you bounce off the shear layer.

Rosa decided to keep it simple and, after bouncing off the sheer layer
above the shallows (Nikki and Bert both found the sound of frames
twisting somewhat distressing), decided to skim at cloudtop level.  Luck
was not with them overly much, as refuelling turned into a 36 hour
marathon to collect 3 parsecs' worth of fuel.  Their refiners merrily
rumbled away in the background.  El Capitane may or may not have smugged
about his foresight.

Once fuel (and kip) had been obtained, the Objective Interim Moustache
Support System set up shop on the sensors to spend a week casing Alpha
Crucis 1039 from long range.  He managed to rumble the red and brown
dwarfs in the middle, and not much more.  El Capitane decided that was
good enough and they can go look-see.

Rosa flatly rejected any idea of skimming a brown dwarf as outright
suicidal.

Upon arrival in AC 1039, with half an idea of the ecliptic, it didn't
take too long for Jim (with Rosa's help) to spot a gas giant that was
over a week away by realspace.  Even though it was quicker to jump, El
Capitane didn't want to waste the fuel, and figured it would probably
take that long to case Alpha Crucis 0840 anyway, so it can be done while
in-transit.

Two of the three bridge bunnies (Jim and Rosa) camped out on the sensors
while en-route, to notably better results.  A G-class primary, 3 gas
giants, 1 planetoid belt (a bit further out) and 9 other worlds,
including one roughly Terra sized.

Refuelling took 10 hours, and twisted yet more frames (again distressing
both Nikki and Bert).

After a routine jump, the Boatload of Sanctioned And Worthy Lunatics got
a nice surprise.  The Terra-sized planet was a much closer analogue than
merely similar size - it was a full-blown garden world.

After putting down just north of the antarctic circle, El Capitane
exercised his prerogative as Him Wot Takes The Blame And Gets Shot
First, naming the planet "Paradise Landing".

The atmosphere turned out thin but breathable with respirator support. 
Bit chilly, for some mysterious reason.  El Capitane surprised the
blazes out of _everyone_ by having some directly-relevant scientific
skills (ie, exobiology) and, after some quick checks, pronouncing the
local biology not to harbour _too_ many surprises.

Jim and Rosa wander off and scope out the surroundings, and end up
getting attacked by a flock of local avian-type critters.  My players
being my players, these were promptly labeled "murderbirds" and riffed
on with "5... 4... 3... 2... 1... Murderbirds are GO!".

After Badass-Moustache blatted one with his rifle, the rest of the flock
decided they had a pressing appointment somewhere else - exactly where
is irrelevant as long as it's _not here_.  The walkabout pair collected
the remains and lobbed back to the ship.

"We come bearing..." - Badass-Moustache
"... chicken!" - Rosa

The murderbird meat smelled ok when being cooked, but turned out to
taste _foul_ - worse than galah.  The PCs had to content themselves with
enlarging the dent in their supplies.

With the Paradise grounded for the first time in roughly three months,
Nikki took the opportunity to collar everyone and do maintenance. 
Powerplant, drives and life support all needed work.
The three bridge bunnies (Drake, Jim, Rosa) then tore into the sensor
suite, tearing it down, then rebuilding and realigning it.  They were
pretty sure they had resolved the sensor quirk (imposing a -1 DM to all
sensor use) in the process.  At least two mummified ex-rodents were
found and unceremoniously pitched during the process.
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