People had always asked Grant why he called his Firerfly "Black Jack".  It was always the same answer, he won it in a game of cards.  This was far from the truth.  Those who knew the Black Jack and it's crew were aware the name was an indication on how Grant conducted his business.  Scanners were everywhere.  Most if not all communication was monitored by the Alliance.  An answer was to hide business negotiations in the cards.  The employer has a pair of queens?  Someone has been kidnapped.  A straight flush?  Their was money that needed stealin'.  Play a suicide king next to two jacks?  Some-one's been targeted for assassination.   But if you see a Black Jack.....you RUN!  You've been made.  You run and run until you find nothing but darkness on your hull.<br/><br/>A week ago The Black Jack acquired the final members of the new crew.  Grant had been hitting the main hubs looking for a gig but no-one was dealing.  A week with no pay and if he was sure that his new guests would begin to stir and question.  They were drifting just short of Three Hills and he wasn't sure they could even afford the fuel to hit the inner rings where the big money could be found.  Equal the danger as well.  He knew he could always ask about the new crews potential contacts but that would show weakness on his part.  And so here he was in the un-occupied shuttle staring into the black running the possibilities through his mind.<br/><br/>A thought suddenly occurred to him as he saw an advert-board pass by.  It was for some new soft drink but that wasn't what set his mind on fire.  Grants idea was high risk but high reward.  But first they would have to find financing.  Accessing the Quartex on the ship board computer he hit the gambling boards.  Typing in a few buttons soon his code hit the screen.  ((JazzBuddha folds on four aces)).  Grant exhaled.  Now it was just a matter of waiting to see if someone bites.  But that was time he didn't have.  He had to give the crew more to chew on than just moldy protein and fast.