He wore green-lensed goggles and a wry smile that told you that he wasn’t one to cross. Everybody in the Star and Garter knew he was a drug dealer; he had visited several times before, selling his Tarach Spice. The more aware knew his name, Commander Ne’Mall, and that he flew with the Guardians of Tranquillity, a cult of drug-pushing ‘crazies’ led by Tranquillity Boss, their Spice-Seer. Those in the business of intelligence gathering knew the most: ‘Two-times Tranquillity Top Dealer and aide to T-Boss’ meant he was a diplomat for an independent faction, a player in ‘The Game’… and a puppet on a string; perhaps they knew more than he did.

He approached the bar. The goggles were removed and he ordered a drink. Tranquil Tea. The barman, never forgetting a face, knew Ne’Mall and his green eyes. He knew that supping tea meant he was here for business. He knew that Ne’Mall would fortify his tea with some of his wares and nurse his drink in contemplative silence before stating his purpose.

A little while later, as expected, Ne’Mall gestured to the attentive barman to come close. “I need to speak with Adamantium,” he said...

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Gliese-09052015-04  Gliese-14052015-01

The impact of the ship’s hull caused my head to ring. A heavy hand pushing my face against the cold metal, the taste of blood in my mouth and the smell of laser-scorched paint filled my senses.

“Seems you’ve been busy, Commander”, came the deep gravelled voice, “Why in such a hurry?”

“I outrank you, you son of a bitch, get your hands off…”

Another impact cut my sentence short, and brought with it a searing pain and a warm trickle of blood down my face. “The Senate does not care about your rank, Commander. It is only concerned with the truth. Information is all we want. Now, why not make it easy on yourself?”

The other officer had stood back silently until this point, presumably letting the heavy guy soften my resolve before he deemed it necessary to speak. His voice was almost snake-like; a whisper, “We tracked you here from Gliese 900.1. We have been aware of your affiliation with Emperor’s Grace for some time. It is admirable that you evaded our security patrols for so long, but now you are here, and here is where you will stay. Any further attempts to leave this station will be met with deadly force. Is that clear? Now, tell me. Who are you working for?”

“I told you, ...

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Shadows Forming


She hit harder than I thought she would. I knew this wasn’t going to go well, but then, it didn’t start too well either…

I dumped Logan’s crumpled hull into the pad delicately enough for the landing gear to lock. It was ungraceful, to say the least, but when you are gasping for air as your life support fails, style is the least of your concerns. I’d been flying missions for CCP a while now, but this was the first time I’d crash-landed into one of their starports and needed them to save my life. They did their duties, but more out of curiosity than generosity.

I was cleared by the medical officer, and free to leave. The last 24 hours were a blur. I remembered seeing the station, and hitting the landing pad but… my head was still trying to piece everything back together. The smell of molten metal and the terrible grinding sound of a mutilated hull. Logan. I needed my ship. We landed, I remember we landed, and I am still alive, so he must be… somewhere…

The repair bill was acceptable, given the damage, but now I was stuck here for two days. I hoped I’d see some friendly faces but there seemed to be no trace of Dragons here. It was 6:26am...

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