Location: Sirius System, Patterson Enterprise, Shipyard Office

Time: 13:00, 3rd of November, 3301

CMDR Delta4Phoenix was a happy man. He had finally gathered enough funds to buy one of the 'Big Three', the Faulcon DeLacy Anaconda. An older design, the Anaconda class had stood the test of time, and was to this day the dream of many pilots. And now, he was going to buy one. When the salesperson finally arrived, that is. Her break should end soon. Until then, he waited in the lightly decorated office.

"Now you seem pretty happy. Finally married?"

Spluttering, the Commander turned towards the woman who had just entered the office, her nametag identifying her as Miranda Sonatra. A mischevious smirk on her face, and her emerald green eyes glinting with amusement at his reaction.

"Y-you know th-that I don't f-feel about her that way, Mira!", he finally cried out.

"You sure about that, Commander Delta4Phoenix? You both already share a bed."

Smacking his head into the table in front of him, the Commander just groaned, while Miranda walked around the desk to sit down in her chair.

Pressing a few keys on the keyboard integrated into the desk, she turned on the holographic screen for her work, giggling at the sight of the independent pilot lying on her desk.

"I told you to just call me Delta..."

"And I won't, not as long as your reaction is this funny. It is your fault for choosing such a long name anyway."

Pulling himself back up from the desk, Delta shook his head in exasperation. Glaring slightly at the woman in front of him, he huffed his response.

"We both know that the short ones are already taken. I understand why the Pilots Federation requires us to take on these 'nicknames', but it is annoying sometimes."

The practice of using fake names was a long-standing tradition of the Pilots Federation. They served to protect relatives of independent pilots from the wrath of factions that had a grudge against a pilot. Since the implementation of these nicknames, the number of assassinations and abductions of families of pilots had gone down drastically. Some chose to not take on a nickname, or choose one that was similar to their real name or contained parts of it, but those also had to accept that the Pilots Federation would charge them if their families got attacked, while Commanders with unrelated nicknames got help from the Pilots Federation for free.

"Look on the bright side, yours is neither unpronounceable, insulting, or stupid.", the Miranda said cheerfully while working through her messages.

"I guess so... Still, I prefer being called Delta."

"Maybe one day I'll call you that. So, you want to buy an Anaconda?"

Surprised by her statement, Delta jumped in his seat slightly.

"How do you know that, Mira? I only told Ziola... she told you, didn't she?"

"Yes, she did, she also submitted a list of modifications. The ship is already waiting for you. We just need to handle the payment. You could also have contacted me without coming here, you know?"

"Yeah, but I prefer speaking to people personally for stuff like this. Especially when it is something as big as this. It is not every day one buys an Anaconda after all."

Shrugging, Miranda pulled up the necessary files to complete the transaction on her screen, which then automatically mirrored itself, so Delta could read them.

"Just put your signature here, and we'll send you the invoice for the ship. Sounds good?"

Delta nodded enthusiastically and grabbed a pen from the table, 'writing' his signature onto the hologram.

Taking a look at the signature, Miranda saved the document, turned the screen off and stood up.

"Alright, you wanna see your new ship?"

Delta jumped out of his chair in excitement, crying out: "YES! I-I mean, yeah, sure."

Giggling, Miranda led him out of her office, and down a few corridors to a large hangar. And there it was.

Resting on its landing gear, the ship quietly sat in the hangar, like a sleeping giant. It was still just coated in the light gray color of the primer coat, onto which a paint job could be applied. Maintenance personnel was everywhere in the hangar, checking the ship for any defects or holes in the primer.

Delta got pulled out of his stupor by a worker tapping him on the shoulder. Shaking his head, he looked at the orange-clad maintenance worker, a slightly elderly man with short, gray hair.

"We already removed the standard paint and prepared it for a new one. We also installed the modules you prepared for it. So if you choose a name and a paint job now, we can have her ready tomorrow."

"Sure. I already know which one I want."

Silently the ship waited. Tomorrow, it would get to do what it was made for: fly among the stars.