This shimmering light of Volkhabe 3 makes the icy outer ring burn like a second sun as the cobra slides gently into a backwater port; a hull full of geawen dance dust for the weekend's festivities, a cool mill for twelve light years of travel.
The cold rush of adrenaline runs on tap as the thruster hum in the aftermath of the battle. The flash of the pirate's end burned white on both retinas. Nine hundred and fifty bounty added a sweet thirty percent on this rather lucrative deal. The memory of the python (and near certain death) quickly forgotten in the haze of targets, marked from the higher ups.
Putting some light between the drop point and the ship brought us to an outpost in Glashow Terminal. A quiet little joint operated by Senlu industries, as quiet as space gets these days. A small conflict brewed on the dock shortly after as the Senlu defense troopers started a battle with two vipers looking for trouble. A sure fire signal to hit the road! A quick stop in Itza to swap out ships and its pedal to the metal as Friday starts to dwindle.
The corporate ladder has its rungs and the cargo hold of the asp explorer full to the brim of diplomats, solicitors, contracts and trade negotiations gabbling to one another was the next rung in my own personal ladder to success. The journey up to Polecteri was a quick but noisy interlude to the evening for hitting the VIP meetings in the bosses latest plans.
A heated debate took to the stars, over to <redacted> to undermine those poor <redacted> fools. An evening of battle so dense the screams whistled by in a blur. As the night rolls on the merits role in, one night of busy work beats chauffeur duty, although there is a lingering sense the later sits better on the conscience.
