The Serpents and the Skulls, Chapter 1.3
It doesn't seem too long ago, does it? When we would sit here and look out across the stars together, passing a bottle and a joint between us. You would tell me about your daydreams of becoming a queen, an empress of your own domain. I would smile. Ah, it was easy for us to laugh back then. How times have changed. How close have you come to achieving that dream... and yet how much is still...
The Serpents and the Skulls, Chapter 1.2
At least the view is nicer than normal. I, Azalea Constantinestu, deserve that much.
My gaze lingers over the council’s guest: Wolfgang Teilhard of the Nijkas Gold Crew. He is a fine specimen of a man: tall, tanned, golden hair in a magnificent topknot, with the stunning dual golden dragons of high clan position running down his muscular arms. It’s the custom of these serpent-tattooed...
Announcement: The Serpents and the Skulls
OOC: Hello, everyone! It's been awhile since anything's been posted under this account, but I've got some exciting news. Anyone here who has read both Marra Morgan's and my logs knows that we have at times collaborated. You might also recall that Marra herself announced her retirement from writing, leaving many (we hope! :)) wondering what happens next for our favorite pirate queen!
I am happy...
Return to Pegasi, Epilogue
The wreckage of the taxi Hauler that had held the man known as Marty Aston floated around me, bits of blackened debris bumping against others as the twisted patches of machinery and hull plating drifted by the canopy. I took a sip of coffee and continued to stare at the floating remains of the ship. It was long past time that I’d normally have retracted hard points and jumped away, but this one felt…different.
Return to Pegasi: The Choice
Author's note: It's highly recommended that you read Jemine Caesar's logbook before this one
Marty Aston. Failed bodyguard. Kicked out of the Kumo Crew. Too old to enlist in a respectable outfit, too out-of-shape to enlist in a non-respectable one. Aptitude not high enough for Pilot’s Fed or University. Wheels and deals moderately well. Been trying to get in with Black Omega for years, with...
Return to Pegasi: The Job
Well Marra, I hope you’re happy. Looks like the resistance bought itself a nice big farm.
I was back in the pilot’s bar on Smith Port. It was busier than the last time, being packed with mercs and miners and merchants, all trying to get their piece of the freshly-baked HIP ‘072 pie. All around me, seats and tables were packed, the tuned-out background conversation filling the air with noise. It...
Return to Pegasi: The Apprentice
Well, ain’t this some horseshit. Stuck in Pegasi, workin’ for the man.
My face soured as I looked into my glass of Old Sol. I didn’t want to be here. But here I was, hunched over a bar alongside the dour and the desperate, furthering the interests of Black Omega. Of Degginal DeVerre. Of Marrakech Morgan.
Hell. More like working for the woman.
Smith Port was still a...
Return to Pegasi: The Deal
“Now that’s what I call a severance package!”
Kyndi Jane McCaskil, part-time companion and full-time smuggler, inhaled her onionhead joint and triumphantly raised the data drive in the air. In it were thousands of Sirius Corporation account numbers, hard-encoded so thoroughly that the only way for anyone to access them was to possess the actual hardware on which they were stored.
Which we did.
Profits from Prophets, Epilogue
“Lakon Mu Lima, you are cleared for approach. Welcome back to His Majesty’s fleet.”
The main docking bay of the Majestic-class Imperial cruiser was far more cramped than civilian starports, but that didn’t matter. I’d upheld my word to Denton Patreus’s private organization and re-joined the fleet.
Not that the news from the front was all that encouraging.
Word around the pilots’ bar was...
Profits from Prophets, Part 13
“Well Matty, you sure know how to pick ‘em.”
The HIP 4005 system was a completely different place than it had been a week prior. The trade routes were swarming with either emergency convoys and their Authority escorts, or being raided by numerous Utopian Enforcers. Every public and emergency band was either begging us to stay away, or to lend a hand in restoring order. Every station and installation...