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<span class="mu-i">As long as there is space to be traveled, there will be ships; as long as there is trade to be done, there will be <span class="mu-s"><span class="mu-r">PIRATES.</span></span></span>
~~~~
<span class="mu-i">Prey</span>, you think. <span class="mu-i">I am surrounded by prey and I can do nothing about it.</span>
Your ship is docked to a spindly arm extending out from the Free Traders’ Guild platform, tied and bound in all but name. Around you are hundreds of merchantmen, a motley assortment of traders and Company ships seeking the same commodities of travel that you do. Their ponderous freighters are ten times larger than your own vessel—but you could crack them open and plunder them without breaking a sweat, if you really wanted to. You wondered if they knew that, if they had even a kindling of an idea that there might be a pirate in their midst.
“Almost ready to depart, skipper,” the operations officer announces. You give only the barest acknowledgement before turning from the small viewport and walking across the bridge to your own chair, picking up snippets of conversation as you go.
<span class="mu-b">...I’d bet my great aunt’s star yacht he’s pullin’ ya leg…</span>
<span class="mu-g">Downed a whole snifter of that Sverulan brandy without so much as twitching an eye, that Raff…</span>
<span class="mu-r">...yer great aunt don’t own a star canoe so much a star yacht, mate.</span>
The captain’s chair is cushioned, one of the first modifications you made after taking command of this fine vessel. Just like everything in space, it was inordinately expensive, but you hadn’t cut corners: fine leather from Astris Alexandria, not a cheap thing to acquire this far out from the Federation’s center. Comfort was just that important. After all, you would never be mentally comfortable on a vessel full of backstabbing criminals; you at least deserved to be able to relax in your own chair.
But you never napped.
Now you sat back in the chair, contemplative as you studied your console. The station had been a welcome respite—a rare commodity in a pirate’s life—but you sensed that your crew was ready to get on the move, and you felt much the same. After all, the sedentary life didn’t appeal to someone like you…
~~~~
<span class="mu-i">Prey</span>, you think. <span class="mu-i">I am surrounded by prey and I can do nothing about it.</span>
Your ship is docked to a spindly arm extending out from the Free Traders’ Guild platform, tied and bound in all but name. Around you are hundreds of merchantmen, a motley assortment of traders and Company ships seeking the same commodities of travel that you do. Their ponderous freighters are ten times larger than your own vessel—but you could crack them open and plunder them without breaking a sweat, if you really wanted to. You wondered if they knew that, if they had even a kindling of an idea that there might be a pirate in their midst.
“Almost ready to depart, skipper,” the operations officer announces. You give only the barest acknowledgement before turning from the small viewport and walking across the bridge to your own chair, picking up snippets of conversation as you go.
<span class="mu-b">...I’d bet my great aunt’s star yacht he’s pullin’ ya leg…</span>
<span class="mu-g">Downed a whole snifter of that Sverulan brandy without so much as twitching an eye, that Raff…</span>
<span class="mu-r">...yer great aunt don’t own a star canoe so much a star yacht, mate.</span>
The captain’s chair is cushioned, one of the first modifications you made after taking command of this fine vessel. Just like everything in space, it was inordinately expensive, but you hadn’t cut corners: fine leather from Astris Alexandria, not a cheap thing to acquire this far out from the Federation’s center. Comfort was just that important. After all, you would never be mentally comfortable on a vessel full of backstabbing criminals; you at least deserved to be able to relax in your own chair.
But you never napped.
Now you sat back in the chair, contemplative as you studied your console. The station had been a welcome respite—a rare commodity in a pirate’s life—but you sensed that your crew was ready to get on the move, and you felt much the same. After all, the sedentary life didn’t appeal to someone like you…
