ERS Universal Export Jehanne
The lights of The Well always felt like the dying embers of a forge—flickering, dim, and heavy with the scent of ozone and stagnation. I sat at a table in Kay’s, the remnants of a lukewarm meal pushed to the side, my mind miles away from the mundane commerce of ERS. Corporate logistics, supply chains, and quarterly projections were beginning to chafe. I needed something sharper. I needed a shadow division.
Universal Export. The name tasted metallic, cold, and final. It would be the shroud under which I’d build ships that didn't exist in any official registry, vessels designed not for hauling ore, but for the quiet erasure of problems.
After settling the tab, I made my way to Jake’s bar. The atmosphere was thick with the usual suspects, but my eyes locked onto a familiar silhouette: Nova Min. They were nursing a drink, their presence radiating the kind of lethal competence that most people spent their whole lives trying to hide.
"Nova," I said, sliding into the stool next to them.
They didn't flinch. "Leo. You look like a man plotting an insurrection."
"Just expansion," I replied, masking the edge in my voice. "Let’s go back to Kay’s. The noise in here is insulting to the conversation I want to have."
We returned to the privacy of the upper floor, where I’d paid a premium to clear the room. The silence was heavy, broken only by the hum of the ventilation and the clinking of our glasses. We traded war stories of ERS and Nova Corp builds, two giants dancing in the dark. I pulled up a schematic of my latest project: the Dire Wolf. It was a B.E.S.T. + series ship—a prototype currently gathering dust in New Atlantis, waiting for the right moment to hunt.
Nova swiped through the holographic files, her fingers dancing over the blueprints of the Joan of Arc. She paused. "This one," she murmured. "The layout is unique."
She pulled up the original configuration: the Stroud landing bay on the port side, the cramped 2x2 brig, the computer core, the slim Deimos docker. It was a utilitarian coffin. I watched the projection, my mind already gutting it, rearranging the bones of the ship into something far more predatory.
"Stop," I said, cutting them off. "The layout is a liability. It’s too predictable. It lacks the teeth for what I have in mind."
We parted ways an hour later, the air between us charged with the silent promise of a new era. I didn’t go to sleep. I headed straight for the landing pad at New Atlantis where the Dire Wolf sat like a sleeping beast. From there, I took a shuttle to the Den, the only place quiet enough to rewrite the laws of engineering.
I pulled the Joan of Arc schematics onto my holographic table and began the vivisection. I tore the decks apart, scattering the modules like viscera.
First, the base. I added a second landing bay on the starboard side to ensure no one could force me into a single exit point. I gutted the original brig, replacing it with a 2x1 Stroud Primer Edition (SPE) Aft Brig, centered for cold, calculated security. I flanked it with a 2x1 SPE Armory to the starboard and a 2x1 SPE companion way to the port. I integrated the SE landing bays with surgical precision, ensuring that the ship was a labyrinth of hardpoints and tactical geometry.
I moved to Deck 1, the heart of the ship. I redesigned the flow, entering through the armory into a 3x1 SPE companion way. I placed the Captain’s quarters at the rear port, tucked away like a bolt-hole. The mid-starboard side housed the 2x2 SPE battle station, shielded by a 2x1 SPE Control station and a 1x1 SPE workshop. Everything was SPE—the standard for those who understood that performance was the only metric that mattered.
Then came the teeth.
I don't believe in fair fights. I installed six Neutralizer 112MeV Gamma EM Turrets. Their purpose wasn't to destroy; it was to silence. To stop an enemy ship dead in the void, freezing them in place so they could be dismantled or boarded at my leisure. For the threats that couldn't be reasoned with, I lined the hull with six DSA MPb-Mark-X Obliterators and four Kit Bash 250 MeV Alpha Beams. Whether it was a fragile A-class scout or a lumbering M-class titan, the result would be the same: a smear of burning debris.
Powering this monster required a heart that didn't know the meaning of fatigue. I installed the DPA Insanity 8000 Grav reactor, a beast that hummed with a dangerous, unstable frequency. For protection, I wrapped the craft in a Singularity C-50 Omni shield system, bolstered by a TIG Class C Assurance T9B shield booster and two Matilija’s Aerospace HMF-V shield boosters. The hull wouldn't just be armored; it would be untouchable.
I refined the optics and the reach with a Matilija’s Aerospace XMA9 Scanning Radar Dish, stripping away the enemy's ability to hide or lock on. I threw in an ASC-D Multi-Frequency Scan Jammer to ensure that contraband—or the ship itself—remained a ghost to local security.
I looked at the engines. The exterior housing, the SAE-5110, was a masterpiece of misdirection—a decorative shell designed to catch the eye. Hidden deep within the frame were four Matilija Aerospace VT3 Saker Falcon Fighter Engines, providing the thrust to dance through a gravity well and the silence to disappear into the black. Finally, I integrated two Micro Cheat Modules. They were the finishing touch, stabilizing the cargo, managing the power spikes, and masking the grav-jump signature. It was an unfair advantage, and that was exactly how I liked it.
I stood back, watching the holographic wireframe spin slowly in the dark of the Den. It wasn't just a ship anymore. It was an instrument of absolute control. The Joan of Arc had been reborn as a predator, a vessel fit for the Universal Export division.
I looked out the viewport at the stars. Somewhere out there, there were targets, and there were debts. ERS was about to stop being a shipping company and start becoming a reckoning. I turned off the projector, the room plunging into shadows, and smiled. The hunt was about to begin.
The ships specs:
Fuel = 10,240, Hull = 7253, Cargo = 1003450 (4515525 with skill and TN) Shielded Capacity = 1,000,300, C Class Reactor = 216 (### with skill), Crew = 11, Jump = 148, Shield = 58900 (94240 with skill). Prisoner beds = 14
Top speed is = 299 (non-boosted and with skill), Boosted top speed is = 69?? ish (with skill, runs out of fuel)
Mob = 100, Mass = 997
Weapons:
Par = 482 (6 x DSA MPb-Mark-X Obliterators), Par = 691 (4 x Kit Bash 250 MeV Alpha Beams), and EM = 10 (6 x Neutralizer 112MeV Gamma EM Turrets)
I would like to give Anarchy Nova a big thanks. This ship is an ERS rebuild of Nova’s Joan of Arc ship. https://www.reddit.com/r/StarfieldShips/comments/1od9o49/bonehook_terrorclass_predator_bclass/
Interior Video here:
Cost to build is between 1 to 2 million credits.
This ship will not be for sale.
Price NA.