23-01-3302

MPH had a previous meaning in the past, old earth, miles per hour, not millions per hour. As things spiral out of control, technology, humanity let loose amongst the stars thoughts of future plans start to form. A few hops around in my Cobra. The adrenaline of a good find not on the net flashes through the brain before hopping back to the type six when a trade scout turns up gold.

Eighty tons of palladium at 12,585 totalling 1,006,800 credits of risk. Forty light years, three jumps, no scoop, rush like crazy for the dock. Low light seconds seems to be the trick, short burn time, quick dock at speed. Pray the type six stops before spreading yourself against the dock!

Sold for 1,157,820 credits with a quick profit, as performance enhancers get dropped back in at 6,409 each. A quick steal on the way back, amid considerations of holding free space to make the jump back quicker. Ten jumps later between station and outpost a cool million pours through the bank.