"Of all places to get stuck at.."<br/><br/>The young human silently cursed his luck as he nursed his ship, a Guardian class armed transport, into port. Two of four engines were smoking almost complete wrecks, their corresponding propellers swinging and turning idly in the breeze, the other two labored to stay running due to damage. Swarms of coglings flitted about them, doing their best to keep them running, but there was only so much the little constructs could do with no materials to effect repairs with.<br/><br/>Raiders. They had thought his ship was a Turncoat. A covert troop carrier. By the time one of their mages had scanned his ship, and announced there was no troops aboard, the damage had been done. And of course, instead of helping, they had turned and ran. '<strong>Frelling bastards..</strong>' the pilot cursed again.<br/><br/>"Come on baby, hold together.." the lone pilot muttered as he feathered the controls, afraid that too big of a course correction might deprive the ship of its failing propulsion. He really did not want to have to rely on<em>that</em>to get the ship to port, again. And to top it all off, this was a port belonging to a nation he had never visited before. But it had been the closest one he could find. He'd likely have to sell most of his cargo, at cut rates, just to get the repairs done.<br/><br/>However, once he was at port, he felt his luck began to turn slightly, as he managed to get enough coin to effect repairs, and he found a local that had enough contact with Britannians to offer him a job. A simple pickup-and-drop-off job. What the bastard neglected to tell him, is that the pickup was on a pirate base. And by some miracle of timing, it was being assaulted by a rival pirate faction. Just great.<br/><br/>As he made a quick, if messy, landing at the base's landing pad, a couple of steamjack loaders lumbered closer, some very large crates on their arms. Seems they were waiting for him. He wondered if those would even fit through the cargo doors. He thumbed a control on the main panel, the large doors on the side of the ship openening slowly. '<strong>That bastard back at port better have my payment ready..</strong>' the pilot thought as the loaders placed the larger crates inside the hold..