Profit Margin hangs, suspended, low over the wide scar in the surface of the ice moonlet.  Ore Hound keeps station less than a hundred metres away.  Both ships are inverted, in relation to the moon's surface, their drives, assisted by the lifting thrusters, working hard to hold them in an orbit which would be impossible if they were to depend on purely natural forces.

Below (above?) them, the wreckage of a large ship lays, partly buried in the ice.

Jockram calls in, "Jago, from this angle I'm picking up some hull markings.  Name looks to be Marcu- something... the rest is buried.  And there's a partial number on her too...  Em cee dash five something something three sixer.  She looks a bit out of shape, and there's a lot of torn and stretched hull plating."

"I'm guesing she hit hard."

Jago's view doesn't reveal a name or number, but he can see some large tears in the hull, and an extensive debris field.

“Best keep a weather eye on the horizon, this is probably the ship the ‘Big Deal’ came out to look at,” Jago says thoughtfully, “what do you estimate her tonnage to be Jockram?”

Jago scans the stricken vestal for any details it might reveal, and also evidence of previous visitors.

“You getting anything Conrad?” he asks.

"I'm showin' 'bout nineteen hunnerd dispacement, Jago.  Call it twen'y five thousan' tons deadweight.  I'm runnin' the name an' num'er Jockram gave us through the search routines, see if we can find anythin'.  Her profile is all outta shape, so silhouette ID isn't gettin' anythin'."

Conrad marks part of the sensor image with a rectangular frame, and bounces it over to Jago.

"See that?  That don't look like combat damage.  See how it sorta bulges out some, then there's this hole with the edges all pushed out?  Looks like somethin' blew inside her.  I'll flip this down to Sas, see what she thinks."

Frell frell frell frell frell frell frell frell!

Saskia studies the image from Conrad, with dismay.  Nothing makes her sadder than a dead ship.  And this one is dead.  Really dead.

"The position of the bulge on the hull is close to one end, so it's probably engineering, since the bridge doesn't usually have anything that will break the hull if it explodes."  There's scorching there too, across the bulge of the hull, in a geometric pattern, though a bit distorted.

Her heart leaps into her mouth, and she suppresses an urge to go and hug the Jump regulator.  For now, at least.

"I think she misJumped.  The burn marks on the hull follow the probable layout of the hull grid.  I saw two like this in the Navy.  Something went wrong, and her J-drive overloaded.  The explosion ruptured the hull, and burned out a section of the grid."

Her voice is calm as she relays the information to Conrad and Jago, but inside her head, she's cursing repeatedly, Frell frell frell frell frell frell frell frell!

"With the grid damaged, she probably couldn't hold a Jump bubble.  She just got forced out somewhere at random.  The crew were probably dead before that happened.  People don't survive exposure to J-Space."

There.  All done.  Just a few more seconds, and she can shut down the comm, and have a frelling good cry.

Listening in on the conversation, Yas grimaces as she hears Sassy.  After years living closely together the ex Marine knows only too well how it can affect her and while she may want her peace she can also use something else to think of as well.

"Hey, Sas," she says over the intercom, "I couldn't help but think of that old space trudger we saw way back on Oredian Blue, you know, the one that looked like it had been in a highway collision with about ten others, with the paintwork to match?  But it was designed that way, you told me, and we almost came to blows about why anyone would 'design' anything like that!"

She chuckles at the memory and adds, "But, I'll admit, it was kind of cute in that ugly way!  Er, but now I ramble, again!"

With some luck it would at least plant a more pleasant memory in the head of the engineer to ease the feelings over this one a bit while Yas continues to watch her bit of the "sky", such as it is with the ship inverted.

The computer chirps, calling for attention, and Conrad glances over the output, and lets out a long, low whistle.  "Now that's int'restin'."

He calls up more information, and relays the hilights to Jago,  "Got us a possible I.D., an' it fits well, too."

"Leviathan class merchant cruiser, Marcucci, registration MC-51336.  Owned by Tukera Lines.  Taken by corsairs on 135-1095 at Quare - that's 'bout, lessee, four parsecs from here.  She was later spotted a few times, takin' part in pirate raids.  Present fate unknown.  'Ceptin' to us, now."

Conrad compares the data to his own sensor readings, "The details match with what Jockram reports, an' the size is 'bout right.  'ccordin' to this, her cargo hold's jus' a touch smaller'n double ours.  I guess Tukera didn't care none that she weren't profitable."

"Says here that some twen'y Leviathans've been built at Bilstein Yards, at Glisten, designed jointly by Bilstein and the Baraccai Technum.  Seems they're built for trade an' exploration.  Seekin' out new trade routes, that sorta thing."

“Question is, how are we going to make money on it?” Jago muses, “I wonder if there’s any chance of an intact cargo.”

“Yasmin, could you spare me a minuet on the bridge?”

OOC
Is there any salvage value to this ship, just as scrap metal?