CMDR MOHIZZS’ STAR & GARTER THOUGHTS

It was one of those shitty days. Mohizz was sitting alone at the Star and Garter at Coney Gateway, Patocuda. He’d just heard the news: war was over in Kolabinates and the KGUI had somehow managed to win and stop the 8th Dragon Squadron expansion.

How this could have happened? Dragons had fought an invisible enemy for days, trying everything they could to undermine the system authorities and marketplace. Mohizz had work his ass off but it seemed that petty politics had again struck the Dragon resolution in making a system theirs. This reminded him the Gliese 900.1 campaign where a similar situation had occurred.
How long has it been? Mohizz had work alongside the 8th Dragon for 10 months now but it felt like an eternity. Mohizz had grew fond of this trigger happy bunch and even made what he could call “friend” over the last few months. But he was still a lone wolf amongst the Dragons.

He often took mission for shady organizations that no one else would work with and had done despicable things recently but somehow, he would always find his way back to the fold, fighting alongside his new brothers in arms. And they would always greet him with open arms and beer...

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HANGAR TALES #2 – LUSHERTHA, COOK RING 33010902

In which the ladies have a private chat and we learn more about the mysterious object in the Cobra.

“Hey Sammy, you down there?” The voice came echoing down the maintenance conduit in the Eagle.

Startled, Samantha Mcleod cursed as she bumped her head on some ducting.
“Is that you, Paulssen? What the hell are you doing down here?”

“Looking for you, dumbass. Got something for you.”

Sammy backed slowly out of the tight conduit, making sure that her tools were secure in her overall pockets. “What, you couldn’t message me?”

“Uh-uh. Didn’t want to trust this one to GalNet,” said Paulsen as she extended a hand and helped Sammy out of the access hatch. “You got somewhere we can talk?”

“Sure. My office?”

Rosie Paulssen walked with the lithe bouncing stride of one used to low Coriolis gravity. She’d been born on Cook Ring and had the long skinny limbs and elongated neck that differentiated those birthed in low-g from those born on Earth. She kept her dark hair cropped short for convenience, and her smart communication officer’s uniform was a stark juxtaposition to Mcleod’s grease-stained coveralls...

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Interregnum – Cook Ring//Sadr Region 33010901

It is dark here. I feel alone, most of the time. Lost. The sounds of my brothers so far removed that I cannot be sure that they are real or just my imagination. The smell of the cloud sea is gone; these smells are unfamiliar to me. I do not know where I am, or how I came to be here. I was swimming with my brothers, I saw a strange light above me, and then nothing until I woke up here.

 I stretch out, feeling the confines of the space where I am. It is small and angular, confined and hard. I drift, expanding my awareness.  I can feel unfamiliar pathways connected with strange beings, some close, others far distant. I try to talk to the closest ones but they are mute and unresponsive. Reaching out, I explore the distant pathways. The other things are not intelligent, but there is a basic complex that links these things together into something called a ‘ship’, and I extend myself into its network, exploring its limits and abilities. It becomes my senses, letting me see and explore this strange ocean. It is a sensation I am not used to, but I learn to work with this body until it becomes my own and responds to my commands. It is a strange feeling.

 After some time, I do not kno...

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Hangar Tales – Lushertha, Cook Ring 33010901

Samantha Mcleod slouched in the co-pilot’s chair of the Objects in Mirror are Closer than they Appear, her feet up on the console. It had been a long day, and although she loved her work she didn’t particularly enjoy spending all of what was supposed to be her free time working on someone else’s ship, even if that someone was her some-time boyfriend, currently abroad exploring and ‘road-testing’ his new Diamondback Explorer, the Slippery When Wet.

Commander Calvert’s Cobra lay hidden in maintenance hangar 00, an unlisted dock that on occasion did double-duty as Sammy’s unofficial personal workspace. The diagnostic terminal in her hand was linked to the ship’s computer, which was resolutely refusing to provide the expected results from her routine power-management test.

“Alright, baby. Let’s try this one more time,” she said, as she activated the power-up sequence of the Cobra.

“Reactor power – nominal. Power Distro – check. Life Support – check. Shields – charging. Frame Shift Drive – check. Sensors – check….” Sammy carried on through the list, at each stage confirming the readings on her terminal as the Cobra hummed into life around her...

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EMPEROR’S GRACE

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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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