As an independent mercenary unit based in the Patocuda system, the 8th Dragon Squadron bear no allegiance to the Empire, Federation or Alliance, nor do they pledge fealty to any smaller governmental bodies. Loyal only to themselves and their contracts, their motto, ‘Ubi Concordia, Ibi Victoria’ meaning ‘Where there is unity, there is victory’, aptly describes the solid foundations on which the group is built.

The 8th Dragon Squadron are a long standing Elite: Dangerous group with a rich history in manipulating the game’s political and economical background simulation...

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Latest polls from the election in Patocuda indicate a landslide victory for the 8th Dragon Squadron; a faction accused of allying themselves with Archon Delaine by the Patocuda League and current head of their election campaign, Dia Riordan. Initial reports suggest that control of Bao Orbital has already been handed over to 8th Dragon security forces, with Riordan leading the retreat of the Patocuda League’s infrastructre staff from the extraction outpost.

While Dia Riordan was unavailable for comment, this begs the question – what is going on with the political landscape in Patocuda? This is a huge turnaround in what seemed to be a forgone election result for the Patocuda League...

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Patocuda’s 8th Dragon Squadron have issued a response to the highly controversial allegations made recently by rival party Patocuda League just before the latter’s call for election was announced.  Patrician Vayda Macias firmly denies Patocuda League’s political high flyer Dia Riordan’s accusations suggesting the 8th Dragon government has ties with Harma crimelord, Archon Delaine.

Macias was insistent that she had no knowledge of any government personnel who might be in talks with the criminal group, yet stated that she “cannot speak for” the original founding mercenaries who despite their highly secretive and autonomous hierarchy, are said to remain in the legislative sidelines.

“Mrs Riordan’s speech was based purely on hearsay and rumour-mongering,” Macias said, “I can say with utmost confidence that no one member of our cabinet has ever dealt with,...

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Patrician Vayda Macias, Mission controller for the 8th Dragon Squadron, stormed into the noisy Star & Garter on Coney Gateway as if she were on a mission herself. Her point of focus was a male pilot propping up the bar, laughing as he reached towards a row of small shot glasses and readying himself to play a favourite drinking game with a fellow barfly. Typical, she thought, but I’ll soon knock that smug grin off his intoxicated face.

She made a beeline for for him, roughly bumping shoulders with off duty miners, drunken traders and suited SysAuths and punched her target hard in the arm as he was downing a shot. He spluttered and choked on the drink.

“Just what the hell do you think you’re playing at, Furieux?” she spat angrily over the noise.

The tall commander winced and took a moment to rub away the pain before fixing her with a cheeky smirk which only...

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As the matt black Anaconda settled serenely on a landing pad at Coney Gateway its pilot shut down the engines and set about carefully prepping her for storage. Musing while he worked, Starwarker considered the events of the last couple of months. With Wally, Furieux and Adamantium busy playing hide the saltine with Archon Delaine and his fellows, he had been working quietly in the background. The ‘tourists’ he’d been discreetly ferrying around neighbouring systems had paid well; simple charters from simple people of little interest to anyone – unless examined more carefully. The few curious bounty hunters and patrolling SysAuths that did show an interest quickly moved on once they realised the cruise liner had some teeth...

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NLTT 21088
Felicia Winters Territory
NLTT 21088 Bridge Network
Weber Terminal
27/9/3303

The once soothing voice of the ships A.I had become irritated in its attempts to get its Commander’s attention for the last five minutes; it was obvious to the A.I that the Commander was registering her attempts on the barest peripheral of his consciousness as its words faded into the background; far behind the sounds of heavy guitar riffs, pounding double kick blast beats and heavy bass licks, all accompanied by a screaming lead soloist, along with the thick sickly sweet smell of a healthy plant which the Commander himself had a personal hand in cultivating, filled the cockpit of RETRO ELECTRO – the Cobra Mk III which rested on landing pad 42.

“Commander Corvinus,” S.I.A.H repeated again, the A...

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