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May 2023 It's been hectic this last year, but we are alive and celebrating our fifth year of adventure and tales. A lot has been worked on to help make the Monoverse one that everyone can enjoy and explore their story while becoming a part of the greater cosmos. All of you, new and long time players, stay safe, and see you in the Sea of Stars!
“Welcome to another exciting episode of Big Shot in the Spur! Today's edition goes out to all of the independent Bounty Hunters in the Spur, from the Perseus Transit to the Sagittarius Intersection! We’re here for you, space hunters!
“A major open season was announced by officials in the Congressional District on Daiban, following further developments in what many now regard as the renewal of the Kromus War. In light of an estimated two trillion Kromus hiding in the unexplored regions of the galaxy, Federation Chairman Arba’dos Kea'ton has lifted a number of restrictions on Bounty Hunters for this call, including regions of allowed operations for heavier weaponry and armed vessels. That means those really big guns you've all been hording away and called collectors pieces are legalized for anyone willing to head to Daiban and register them with GFP! Don’t forget those old Covenant era plasma rifles, I hear a Kromus crackles and burns out like an Arkellian Sand Beetle when hit by one of those old classics!
“A related statement was released by Confederation Armed Forces Commander in Chief General Rodham Morris, confirming operations coordination with the registered Hunter Guilds and additional assistance in the case of joint operations. But, being that they are the military of Sol Sector, and still have the second largest fleet in the known galaxy, don’t expect to dictate conditions with those Confed blue suits, space hunters. Word is that Chairman Kea’ton has been making a number of efforts to better give the Terran fleet wider latitude as well for all their efforts in the past, and that translates to more authority in a wartime state of galactic civilization. Let’s be fair, though. If not for the humans and their Sangheili buddies from the outer Sagittarius Arm region, we'd all be likely have been either dead three times over, or converted into a bunch of third rate heating units for the Machine Empire by now. Nearly going extinct a few times on our behalf ain’t no easy thing for them, so don’t hesitate to help the Confederation out. Plus, hazard pay bonus.
“And finally, wrapping this update to a close, the Cygnus Furies Guild will be working directly with GFP and the Confed Fleet for wartime operations. They’re making an open invitation for prospective new members to join them on Daiban at the formal announcement by the Galactic Congress in three days, so report guild PR officers speaking on behalf of current leader Sov Gra’kr. Make sure you all hurry to the Al'kya System, and watch for that singularity in Cygnus X-1! Until next time, happy bounties, space hunters!”
Audio: "Until next time, happy bounties, space hunters." Humorous Musing: A yes, Space, The greatest of Prey, biggest of game. Idea: Participation could further Imperial interests. Positive reputations are quite valuable.
For the past couple months, Seeker had done odd jobs and freelancer work for the local Enforcers and Law Keepers. At first he took his payment in information, language lessons as well as lessons about Galfed laws and how to operate the technology manually. To say the least, it was not what Seeker thought it'd be like, the local culture was practical anarchy, dominated by private interests and sorely in need of better regulation. Poverty wasn't just limited to the lazy here, and the wealthiest had power to rival the actual government in some cases. The locals didn't even respect their Law Keepers! Fortunately, the technology these people had wasn't so far ahead that it was impossible to understand or overcome. As it turns out, the xenos were just as vulnerable to hyper-velocity kinetics as the Green Zone Horrors back home, and local ArcanoMedical Technology was apparently non-existent.
Rising from his seat in the middle of the Refreshment Center, and leaving a sizable tip next to the almost full glass of beverage, Seeker gazed at the vial he'd just filled as he strode through the crowded streets of the Galactic Federation's Capital, more data to be sent back home. He stowed the vial away as he made his way to the local bounty office, the better to get information, potentially find a partner or squad for the operation, and figure out which of the Galaxy Railways lines he'd have to hitch the Arrow on in order to make it there before the turn of the century.
The Imperial AI quietly played a traditional march as he advanced towards what would inevitably be a combative task.
Thought: This should be most interesting. I hope I don't get shot in the head again, replacing parts while blind and deaf is tedious in the extreme.
Multi-hued smoke escaped from the human's pale lips as he sat by his small studio window, electronic cigarette lethargically held between two fingers of his right hand, the other rested upon his bent knee, holding mobile device, thumb scrolling aimlessly across the screen. Work had dwindled down as he had raised a bit too much heat last time, and worse yet, most of what he got paid was as easily expended getting his cybernetics back in order. The black metallic cylinder is brought back upon his pale lips, the tip lighting up in a deep blue tone as he took another drag, pausing before exhaling as a notification hit the screen, a brow arching as he saw the name. "Big Shot in the Spur..." The male exhaled as he raised the volume, right before clicking view.
As the strangely cheery music filled the air, a wide grin spread over his face, causing the electric cigarette to drop upon the covers. Halfway through his phone would be thrown on top of the bed as he leap to the tip of his cybernetic feet, rushing frantically around the room for clothing, and his tools of trade. A large duffel bag is placed on the floor, his Lockpicks dropped into its empty confines as he struggled with his pants. They are soon followed by his pair of automatic weapons, the casing worn, scratched and quite obviously not the original, thrown in with a loud metallic ring, a cardboard box labelled Ammo spread open and turned upside down, dumping a measly four magazines in, giving Eligos pause as he stared at them with a disappointed look on his face. Shit...he needed to get more. Then again he wasn't the ranged type...Shrugging he finds a black tank top and veers to the kitchen, pulling two large lacks of small clear bottles of off-brand while liquor, pausing just a second before shoving them both into the bag. It was fine! if this paid as much as he thought it would, he would be drinking something stronger soon. The type of thing that makes your forget you have a tongue! With a studded leather jacket on top, the augmented human was about to leave before turning on his heels with a grimace, fetching a bag of sugar and dumping it into the bag. The announcement had come to its cheery end as he closed the bag and slung it over his shoulder.
All right! This was it. Grabbing his vice and dangling it from his lips, he would fetch his headphones and bound out the door, rushing down the cheap apartment complex down to the streets bellow, heading from memory towards the nearest bounty office. Taking a cab would take longer than running, and public transportation was a maze! His legs would take him there faster. He wouldn't have it with others having the first pick of both target and crew...after all he didn't even have a ship to his name.
“I still don’t think letting a bunch of Seguru chasing maniacs loose is a good idea, Chairman. Especially since most of them aren’t registered with the GFP.”
The stout statured human limped slightly as he walked beside the green skin Mantu Chairman of the Galactic Federation. His receding hairline was one of his more noticeable features, long with the bushy mustache that covered over his upper lip. And despite what many said of his girth, his movements other than the limp gave no indication of weight being a restriction on him.
“We have depended greatly on the fleets of your own people to the point many outside the Confederation have forgotten that Terra has much itself to recover from.” The twin antennae of Chairman Arba’dos Kea'ton shifted as he turned a corner of the hallway, his pace not slowing a step. “And yet, previous administrations to this Federation saw fit to choke the Terran forces whenever possible, leaving them now with an aging centicycle old fleet that has had only one new capital ship come online in the past five standard decacycles, one that had to be constructed in secret because of the corruption of my predecessor.”
With a derisive snort, Chief Gorman Hardy fell back a step or two, easing the weight on his weak leg, then resumed pace to follow the Chairman. “If you ask me, Vog'l didn’t put the leash on tight enough around Confed's neck if they were hiding that they were building a damn dreadnought for over twenty years, and had the gall to call it a ‘carrier' once they couldn’t hide it anymore.”
Kea’ton suddenly halted just before the entryway to his offices in the Grand Assembly. His antennae twitched as he turned his head to looked back at Hardy with concern and trepidation. “Those are your people, Hardy. They have risked total annihilation no less than four times on behalf of this galaxy and all those within it.”
“I’m human, but I ain’t Terran.” The disgust in Hardy’s voice was given no veil as he grunted at the idea of association with the humans of Sol. “If you ask me, Sol deserves to be blown to bits, and the damn race scattered so they learn the price of being a bunch of war mongering nut jobs who keep wanting to build a bigger railguns to aim at anyone else.”
The Mantu's red eyes were sad as he shook his head. He had appointed Hardy to the position of Federation Police Chief for the purpose of giving more presence in galactic affairs to the humans. Instead, Hardy had proven have thrown his lot and views with the very political elites who had stifled the progress of power to the member systems that had not yet been granted congressional status. The same, he had sadly learned, was true of the compromise choice for the Secretary of Defense Affairs. Obstacles at every turn.
“I hope you feel that way when the Kromus are laying waste to and burning your home planet to a cinder rock once they have their full might amassed again,” Kea’ton hissed in a cold reminder of what the Space Pirates had done not less than thirty years prior. “And when the Confederation, the Sangheili, and those ‘maniacs’ you feel the bounty hunters of the Spur warrant being labelled are out there dying for the last of us, remember that those were your words.” He paused a moment, enough that Hardy opened his mouth to object, and was silenced by the glare of a Mantu who knew far better than he was being regarded. “Remember, Hardy. I lived through the Promethium Machine War. I remember seeing entire species wiped out, planets turned to sterile metal spheres, and the rage of a species that was facing extinction once more after having fought off the Kilrathi not even four decacycles prior.”
He left the matter at that, leaving Hardy to stand there, jaw dropped, in shock at his words. As much as he knew the human needed to hear the lecture, Kea’ton had more pressing matters to attend, namely to address the galaxy and the billions of bounty hunters and mercenaries who had come to answer the call to arms. Like it or not, coordinating with the hired guns of the Orion Spur was part of Hardy’s job, and he better be ready to do it.
Audio: Raucous Laughter, Loud Chatter, Bad Music Thought: These Sentients are highly disordered, definitely freelancers. Probably in the right place, oheyyyy I see a scribe's station.
Stepping into the local GFP Offce, Seeker was greeted with the sight of an office filled with sketchy looking sentients armed to the teeth (literally in a few cases). He cautiously made his way to the nearest Scribe's Station to take care of any registry issues. The rather tired looking scribe glanced up, recognizing the foreign AI.
"Ah, Seeker. How've you been since your last job with us? I see you got your head back on right, man was hearing about that a trip. Are ya finally branching out from helping just law enforcement? If so, ya needn't register or anything since you've already done the paperwork. Try'n make sure you stick with the right crowd, other bounty hunters can get pretty nasty. Kill a few Kromus for me willya?"
The Revenant stopped, formulating responses to the rapid-fire questions posed to him. The revelation that additional paperwork was unnecessary relieved him slightly but he still felt that twinge of disappointment at being denied a task.
"First Query: I am doing fine, Second Query: Yes, I'm taking advantage of the opportunity to further National Interests, Third Query: I will attempt to slay at least two Kromus for you, but I cannot promise anything. The Advice is noted and appreciated, efforts to keep the Bounty Hunters sanitary will be made as well as avoiding the "left crowd". Keep well and Founder protect you, Scribe Jaana, I must contact home."
The Imperial Scout made his way out of the Office, realizing that he'd accidentally wasted a few minutes on a meaningless trip, he quickened his pace as he walked to the dock where his ship was parked... When Seeker finally got back to the Arrow, he promptly connected and uploaded the memory file contaning a recording of the Big Shot announcement. The response was nearly immediate.
HQ: You are to Engage in this hunt, make sure to make your connection to the Empire clear, this is an opportunity. Scout: Preparations already made, any further instructions? HQ: Stand by... The Ministry of Intelligence is assembling a message to be delivered to Local Officials, If this message fails to reach it's target by the time you complete this hunt you are to attempt direct contact with appropriate authorities. Scout: Medium of delivery? HQ: ... Message complete, to be delivered via tablet, sending schematics for the tablet and it's message. Materials predicted to be capable of surviving in the event of an accident. Message is as follows:
||||[Instructions to the One who holds this message: Ensure this message is delivered a "Federation Chairman Arba'dos Kea'ton". Operatives have been instructed to escalate attempts to initiate contact if this message fails to be responded to, whether it fails to be delivered or is dismissed as junk-mail/spam/prank-mail.]
Dear Sapient of unknown pronoun preference,
The Zaran Empire and her Sister State, the Republic of the Scale, hereby officially extend their fine-manipulators in the hopes of a shared prosperity. May your civilization resist the profane call of chaos eternally. Our Voyager Operatives have encountered your civilization and reported on the situation, we have ordered said operatives to assist in your "Kromus" problem as a gesture of good faith. More agents are bound for your civilization, and should be arriving over the next few decades or centuries depending on their proximity and whether FTL technology advances fast enough to retrieve them sooner, worry not though as these agents have been instructed to cooperate with authorities. May the Ever Vigilant Founder watch over thee, may thine rule be firm and just, and may thee find peace when thou must retire from thine sacred task. Ordis Aeterna, Felicitatem Sine Fine (There is a Bass-Relief Portrait of the Founder covering the back of the Lonsdaleite laminated titanium-graphene composite tablet, the portrait is wreathed in text naming the core values of the empire in Imperial Common: Loyalty, Order, Excellence, and Unity) ||||
Scout: Acknowledged, message received, schematic integrity confirmed. Production and delivery to nearest known Government Office will commence immediately. HQ: Acknowledged, good hunting, Dismissed.
Realization: Gods damnit, I need to make another trip to the office. Audio: "Back so soon Seeker? Oh, what've you got there? A message? Sure, I can pass this on to the chief." Thought: Now to find a group to team up with... preferably ones with access to their own transportation since it'd be difficult for them to breathe if I were to give them a ride... The Explorer-turned-Bounty-Hunter began sweeping his gaze across the crowd and made his way towards to entrance for a better view.
The sound of metal scrapping across concrete heralds the approach of the augmented human as he dashed at top speed across the streets, trying to stop just as the office cape into view, causing him to simply slide across the pavement, coming to a sudden tripping halt at the foot of the stairs. Taking a moment to regain his balance, Eligos would take a deep breath and, running a hand through his short and wild hair, start heading up the stairs and into the office. Ok, maybe parkouring over here wasn't smart, plenty of close calls back there but at least he wouldn't have to deal with lin-Oh fucking hell...
The augmented punk would pause at the door, biting his tongue as he saw the line of obvious mercenaries and wannabe bounty-hunters piling up by the various offices...Great. How did they even get here so fast?! He took a deep breath, holding his hands up as he silently nodded to himself. It was fine. this was fine. Just a few more minutes in line... Which he could have avoided had he been registered before, but then again his line of work wasn't exactly...legal. Adjusting the strap of his bag he would pull a ticket and take his spot in line. Oh how he hated bureaucracy, everything took so freaking long! But he needed a partner with a ship, so what could he do?
Time seemed to stretch to infinite as he waited in line, his dark gaze peeking over and around those in front of him, amusing himself by trying to guess their story just from their looks. But there were only so many people in that particular office, and soon the man was left tapping his mechanical foot on the ground and with his arms crossed over his chest, carbon fibre musculature flexing rhythmically as ceramic places slowly click against one another. A hand raises to his face, lips parting as his teeth bite down upon the tip, causing him to pause and glare at his hand. Right..he didn't have nails to chew any more. Huh, probably the sole thing he missed strangely enough.
A monotone call for "Next!" snaps him back to reality as a tired-looking female manning the station calls for him. Rushing over he would put his most polite smile, flashing the tips of his bifid tongue at the Scribe before he begins to talk. "Hi, I'm here to register for the Kromus bounty-hunting?" The Scribe reacted as one would expect, eyes focused upon a screen as she slowly clicked. As her mouth opened to ask him what would no doubt be the first of many questions, he would interrupt her by handing her his ID card and declaring the info himself in rapid, impatient tone "Eligos Forneus Vanth, 25, born and raised here, augmented, will bring my own weaponry, no I don't have a ship and yes I know this may kill me and I accept all risks without any intention to sue. Now, since I don't have a ship, do you guys do the pairing or...?" The Scribe silently glared at him as she typed in the info, handing him back the upgraded ID before answering him with a voice that oozed customer service "I'm sorry sir, we don't take responsibility over pairings, you will have to figure it out yourself." Well shit.
Taking the card and pocketing it, he would sling the bag with his gear over his shoulder once more before heading close to the door, leaning against the edge as his black mechanical fingers rubbed the bridge of his nose. Right, on to try and find someone that owns a ship...As his eyes rest upon the automaton in front of him, one of a strange design at that, he couldn't resist but to ask in an exasperated tone and cheeky smirk "I don't suppose YOU have a ship huh?" Obviously not expecting any sort of response from it.
Audio: "I don't suppose YOU have a ship huh?" Assessment: Quadruple Amputee provided with supplemental augmetics, facial expression noted for later investigation. Sarcasm? Fatigue?
The Automaton glanced at the Mercenary before him, evaluating, the potential of the individual was completely unknown, but an ally of unknown value is better than no ally at all. The AI's radio-like voice echoed from behind his face-plate.
"I am in the possession of a vessel, however, it isn't safe for organic occupation, additions would have to be made, life support, some sort of housing unit. Issues would be minimized if any organic occupants were willing to utilize life-suits or similar technology."
Being unable to support life within his vessel hadn't been an issue until now... as a matter of fact it had been quite convenient, no microbes fouling up the interior, no pests hiding in the corners. But now it was a liability, action would have to be taken to rectify that. There'd be individuals who could manage such a project on world, possibly just making the cargo hold habitable.
"Less than Ideal the situation is. Changes to the Arrow's cargo hold will have to be made, pressurized and equipped with some basic amenities. Using my vessel should remain a secondary option, potentially utilizing it as fire-support or the likes. Recommend looking for more individuals, sufficient to assemble a proper squad, preferably ones that have an organic compatible vessel capable of more than 2.5ly a day. I believe that if we were to take 20 years to reach our destination we'd both run out of food for you and Kromus to terminate upon reaching said destination."
With that, the Revenant returned to looking for more potential squadmates, patiently waiting for the stranger before him to process the information he'd provided and formulate a response.
Thought: I wonder if He'd be compatible with Imperial Augmetics, it'd be convenient if replacing non-functional limbs were as easy as just fabricating a new one. Note: Make sure to bring that up if a partnership is established, experiments may have to be conducted. Need to get data on biology, the better to avoid complications. Also look to providing extra weaponry, redundancy is better than deficiency.
The main contacts offices of the Cygnus Furies were more active than was the norm. The announcement of their leaders taking active part in coordinating the recent open bounty on Kromus pirates had a large part in it, but as a Psi Category Guild, they considered it in their interests to make sure most of these newly registered amateur hunters didn't end up dead in a matter of days.
And then the other issue remaining was the apparent competition from the guild, “clan” they called themselves, that had started up just three years ago. If there was one thing that irked Sov Gra'kr more than a bunch of complete amateurs acting like bounty hunting was easy, it was an upstart guild that acted like they were better than everyone else and demanding to be just handed the respect that many took decades to cultivate.
“It’s a bit crazy right now with that open bounty, but there’s already some decently skilled independents who are looking to go guild, and we’ve gotten petitions from quite a few.”
Two pairs of sectioned pupil eyes blinked while the tall arthopodic humanoid nodded his agreement. A carapace shell marked the top of his head as opposed to hair, thick fur, or even tendrils, with a set of curved horn-like growths curling out from under the carapace plates. “Despite the attempts by Vizsla and his refugees from outside the galaxy to take what they have yet to earn, ample respect and accord is given to the Guilds of the Spur as deserved.” Even through the translation unit surgically grafted to the side of his head, Sov's speech had an unmistakable accent to it. “I assume Prexlor over in the COGS has been dealing with this influx of new blood just as we have.”
The Yl’fyn beside him, human in general appearance, with wider eyes and long angled ears that some familiar with old Terran fables would call ‘elvish', nodded and brushed a bark brown bang of hair back from over her eyes. A cursory glance to the data tablet in her slender hand gave her a bit more on events in the guilds as an update posted to the screen. “Chairman Kea'ton just finished addressing the Assembly regarding his communications with the Sangheili Arbiter and President Iwata, looks like General Morris is going to be arriving within the week to coordinate operations with GFP’s office and the Guilds.” A pause as her left ear twitched slightly, just enough to be noticeable. “I’m assuming you'll want to be the one to meet with him instead of Jox'r?”
The quad eyes blinked again, but Sov gave a confident nod as they stopped at the entry to the main hanger of the offices complex that they shared with other preeminent Hunter Guilds. “I trust Jox’r well enough to handle things, but this isn’t just another contract job, and Kea’ton has been adamant for nearly a decacycle on giving the humans more say and presence in official matters in the Federation.” He tilted his head slightly, appearing to contemplate his words and thoughts. The opinions of his people, the Ok'th-lhu, were very well known, and through he shared the venerated view of their own undeniably precursor ancestors, he had quite a respect for the humans given their actions in the last round of war with the Kromus. Not that he'd trust them with political power in the Congress, but as a soldier, he had enough trust in their abilities to wage wars.
“Sir, ‘alor Vizsla is requesting that you meet with him at the Grand Assembly, regarding resources and coordination for operations in the Frontier Borders.”
Speaking earlier of upstarts demanding respected that was decades earned...
“Damn outsider won’t be happy until he annoys the Terrans into giving him one of their precious Reclaimer drives or a damned battlewagon.” The Ok'th-lhu grunted his disapproval, but it was in their better interests to at least play nice with other guilds, even if they were only three years formed. “Relay that I will meet him following the Chairman's address, I have to meet with Chief Hardy and Secretary Holdon anyway.”
The day, he reflected, was already going sour. He hoped the rank and file of his own guild, much less the three hundred and twenty-two million registered hunters in the Spur, were going to have a better time of it.
The legendary Umbran turned bounty hunter had been enjoying a drink at the Gates of Hell when the broadcast started, and by the end of it she was already concocting plans to join in the hunt. Her guns were home in the safe, but a new mission requires new weapons, does it not? The Witch would turn her gaze to the bartender, her lips twitching in a smirk. Adjusting her glasses, she scribbles down a note to Rodin on the back of her check, detailing her requested weapons. After handing over both payment and weapon request, she saunters out of the bar to further prepare for a work.
Report: Daiban Organics have need of multiple things: Air, Water, Pressure, WiFi, Wall Plugs, Mini-Fridges, Signal. I now have the means of providing all but the WiFi and Signal installed in the Arrow's Cargo Bay, arrangements have been made for an organic to occupy the new Habitat. A single camera has been installed to record the subject's behavior for further analysis.
HQ: Wait, What?
"All These Kinds of Places"
Clanking away from the Z.I.V. Arrow, now garbed in his full military Equipment, the Zaran marched his way to the office of the Cygnus Furies Guild, paying little to no attention to the people as they parted before the humming automaton.
"Make it Seem Like it's Been Ages"
The various architectural styles stuck out to the Revenant, reminding him of the Homeworld and it's Pre-Winter metropolises, now the only surface cities are either crushed to naught but dust beneath glaciers, completely overrun by predatory vegetation and gods-know-what-else, or sprouting from the precarious border-zones. All the styles were the same, sleek, practical, and as durable as possible so as to withstand the vicious storms that such border regions are known for. Creativity was for the colonies, where the environment allowed for it, and it was apparent that Daiban was like them but more so, conflicting styles existed side-by side, skyscrapers of fuckknowswhat on all sides and countless airborne vehicles weaving between them all.
"An Alien Sun with buildings scraping the sky"
Overcrowding was obviously an issue here, alleyways with numerous members of the lower classes seemed to be normal here, and to say that there were more people on this street than on some Imperial Colony worlds might not be an exaggeration. Unlike the homeland however, all these people were enemies, all strangers to one another, all were islands, isolated, seeing all others with suspicion. They were not just aliens to him, but each other as well.
"I Love my Country Dearly"
Most of the propaganda around him was geared towards maintaining domestic morale in the current conflict, but some of it was vaguely reminiscent of Republic election adds. This however was all geared towards slandering the opponents, no mentions of a candidate's actual merits. A Republic of Fear, a society built on selecting the lesser of two evils, corrupt. A mental shudder sweeps through the Scout's psyche, things were complicated here, morality difficult to distinguish.
"I can feel their eyes so clearly"
Mechanical eyes swept across the crowd, studying, evaluating. Curiosity, suspicion, apathy, that last one was the response of the overwhelming majority. The multitude of races and countless machines were lacking one major thing, a Revenant equivalent, inquiries would have to be made eventually, These people were obviously advanced enough to produce such entities.
"never thought I'd be alone to serve"
Arriving at his destination, the Imperial stepped through the door to do some more paperwork and hopefully get on the road to actually doing something. The need for work was slowly growing.
As war roars to life once more, the forces of the Orion Spur rally to meet their extra-galactic foes on any battleground, be it the distant Frontiers, the uncharted Unknown Regions, or even the homes and cities of the people within the Federation borders. The conflict will only grow, but the war will not be the same as it once was before. Following the initial coordinated operation with ConFleet and the GFP special tactics division, some of the freshly minted independent hunters proved worth an invitation by a number of the Guilds.
REWARDS
A considerable sum was rewarded for the overall actions of the bounty hunters against at the Kromus. Enough was earned that those without a vessel capable of basic slipspace travel were able to, at the least, make arrangements for such, and those with personal vessels were able to obtain some likely needed upgrades.
As well, all those who took part in the open bounty gained a ranking grade from Alpha to Iota. Congratulations, space hunters. To another bounty, and a fat payday!
