“Cursed rough wind gusts, I hate docking at these processing stations.” Setting behind the helm was a tall young man, the lean muscled frame of someone who had seen their share of honest work. A free hand tenderly stroked at the controls. “Don’t worry darlin’, I’m gonna get you down easy ,” he reassured the vessel even as violent winds gusted and beat at the hull. “Oh baby, hold on.”
Scratching at his stubbled chin he decided to key his comlink back on, hailing the station’s dock. “Skip the procedure, I’m coming in, give me an authorization code and docking approval. This is Ace of the Noble Steed and we’re scheduled to refuel and take on a shipment of Tiberium gas.”
“Noble Steed, you’re cleared for docking bay 7, authorization code 5483. Acknowledge,” Replied a rather weary toned comm officer.
“Yeah, yeah, I got it. Coming in.” Smoothly the ship glided through turbulent atmosphere like an elegant fish traversing a calm spring stream. Despite excessive speed for docking, the Noble Steed roared to a halt next to an airlock marked 7. A quick transmission of the given code and it sealed with a hiss, forming a link between the station orbiting the gas giant of Owerth II, and the Noble Steed.
“Just to be safe darlin’, let’s get you hitched.” A series of magnetic locks fired from various points along the hull anchoring themselves to the station, each one trailing a tether back to the ship. “Maglock tethers engaged.” In a slow stretch Ace stood up, making sure to double check the ships systems., before leaving the helm. He reached behind him and lifted an old and battered broad rimmed hat off a console, slapping some imagined dust off the brim and put it on. As an afterthought he drew a large bore revolver, a modified tri-gun he always wore. It’s distinctive cylinder only capable of three large caliber rounds, or micro cells. But this little baby packed a nice surprise; a series of micro cell generators that could cycle their recharge time; enabling each to be back at full charge by the time the cylinder made a full revolution. Ace always kept his gun close, a gun that never ran out, even if it did require a reliance on skill, instead of rate of fire. But the again, at least it never jammed. It was as reliable as the honed skill it required, and when you tend to be a wandering nomad, a good gun on your side is always handy.
“Alright boy’s,” Ace’s smile began to creep up one side of his face. “I’m gonna stretch my legs a bit.” Poised to step out the air lock a gruff reply intercepted his exit.
“Ace, no gambling this time.”
With a sly chuckle Ace crooked his head around and called back. “Wouldn’t dream of it!” Still smiling as he left his ship to prowl around the station.