After docking at Coney Gateway, Idlewally made his way to his home away from home, the Star and Garter, the place where every adventure of note started, and the place where every mission was celebrated. He was looking forward to seeing some familiar faces after almost one Earth year working undercover for the Dragons, but as he walked through the doors of the bar, while heaving with activity, there was not a familiar face in sight, even the bar staff had changed.
Regardless Wally headed to the bar, hoping beyond hope Furieux hadn’t laid eyes on the case of Lavian he stashed with the barkeep before his mission began...
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...
Felicia Winters Territory
NLTT 21088 Bridge Network
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...
The corvette erupted in a glorious ball of debris and expanding oxygen. It had lasted less than a minute once the Dragon pilots had targeted it.
“You stole my fucking kill!” shouted Fangz across the comms.
The reply he received was the united laughter of the other Dragon Commanders, as they turned to the struggling Type 9 nearby. This was a slaughter.
“Mohizz, get your fat ass out of my face!” demanded Fangz as he approached the limping ship, shields down, his Corvette glancing across his fellow Dragon’s bow. The Type 9 lasted mere seconds, its cargo spilling out as the power plant failed and the ship exploded.
“Find your own targets, you thieving piece of shit,” Mohizz laughed.
“Python!” shouted Nyxx. “No, he’s already dead.”
“Gentlemen, I apologise for my intrusion, but if I don’t kill one of these little darlings before my ammunition runs out, I’m going to be ...
“Is he on board?” the pirate king barked at his guards.
“According to the log he came on board at exactly 14:08 sire,” the officer mumbled.
“That was 4 hours ago! Now find him!” Delaine screamed as he opened the door to his private cabin.
“Looking for someone?” Idlewally chirped up. He was sat on the chair so lavish you could get away with calling it a throne, with his feet up on the desk, heels resting on the reports that had the pirate king so flustered in the first place
“How dare you? Who do you think you are?” Delaine growled, the rage bubbling atop the surface, hand reaching for his pistol.
“Ah, who am I? Now that is the real question. How about you get rid of your aides and we can talk in a civilised manner?”
Spotting Delaine’s movement, knowing he had mere seconds before the gun was aimed and discharged, he added “I would advise against that...