<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4835544831229065493</id><updated>2012-03-02T13:55:43.632-08:00</updated><category term='pirates'/><category term='Ariadne Fall'/><category term='erinyes'/><category term='beit dewla'/><category term='captain sisko'/><category term='Icarus'/><category term='al raqis'/><category term='editorial'/><category term='Securitas'/><category term='Dragons Egg'/><category term='willard deerhunter'/><category term='galewind'/><category term='novara norstrom'/><category term='jai raghilda'/><category term='hales moon'/><category term='dave gaffer'/><category term='deleted'/><category term='splintered rock'/><category term='Nena'/><category term='Grinch'/><category term='Folly'/><category term='Gulgus'/><category term='out of character'/><category term='Ulysses'/><category term='azaadi'/><category term='CFTA'/><category term='literary pretensions'/><category term='persephone one'/><category term='jade moonkill'/><category term='Five'/><category term='arnold gustov'/><category term='New Paradigm'/><category term='Hale&apos;s Moon'/><category term='election'/><category term='original Galewind'/><category term='RETCON'/><category term='deep desert'/><category term='magistrate'/><category term='Collective'/><category term='blockade'/><category term='firefly'/><category term='beit dawla'/><category term='STFU'/><category term='zenobia'/><category term='5'/><category term='log'/><category term='lori schumann'/><category term='STC'/><category term='Kerner'/><category term='araxes'/><category term='Seren'/><category term='laandsrat'/><title type='text'>Persephone</title><subtitle type='html'>The life and times of Captain Seren Undercroft.</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://persephoneone.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4835544831229065493/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://persephoneone.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Seren</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02879912288228062152</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='19' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_uxGPcFI0o9Y/TG25XvXgllI/AAAAAAAAACI/dBanb3N5aV8/S220/nudearty_001.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>25</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4835544831229065493.post-6874766743660463985</id><published>2012-01-26T07:56:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2012-02-04T09:40:12.543-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='jade moonkill'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='azaadi'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='literary pretensions'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='beit dawla'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='lori schumann'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Ariadne Fall'/><title type='text'>Ariadne's Thread</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="background-color: white; line-height: 19px;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;Ariadne's Thread&lt;/b&gt; : &amp;nbsp;the term used to describe the solving of a problem with multiple apparent means of proceeding - such as a &lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ariadne" target="_blank"&gt;physical maze&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="background-color: white; line-height: 19px;"&gt;, (eg: that of the &lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Labyrinth" target="_blank"&gt;minotaur&lt;/a&gt;) &amp;nbsp;a&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Logic_puzzle" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: white; background-image: none; background-origin: initial; color: #0b0080; line-height: 19px; text-decoration: none;" title="Logic puzzle"&gt;logic puzzle&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="background-color: white; line-height: 19px;"&gt;, or an&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ethical_dilemma" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: white; background-image: none; background-origin: initial; color: #0b0080; line-height: 19px; text-decoration: none;" title="Ethical dilemma"&gt;ethical dilemma&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="background-color: white; line-height: 19px;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;- through an exhaustive application of logic to all available routes. It is the particular method used that is able to follow completely through to trace steps or take point by point a series of found truths in a contingent, ordered search that reaches a desired end position. This process can take the form of a mental record, a physical marking, or even a philosophical debate; it is the process itself that assumes the name.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 19px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 19px;"&gt;* * * * * *&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 19px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 19px;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;The screen flickers into life with layers of green, gold and red text swimming across the surface. We see a torso, a green shirt and brown trousers over curved hips, midriff peeping through the two garments . A slightly muffled female voice, not in optimum mic range says "You're the one with the head for figures. Go over the dockets again and make sure we have all the paperwork. I'm not buying that a ton of our cargo grew legs and wandered off on it's own and you can tell that idiot warehouse clerk I said that!"&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 19px;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 19px;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;The female sits down and the lens of the camera refocuses. She has a small cup with a rich, brown transparent beverage which she sips, leaning back into the chair.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 19px;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 19px;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;"Captain Seren Undercroft. Create New Log - Nyce - a "y" not an "i", tag it and connect it with Fall, Ariadne, Beit Dawla and Moonkill, Jade".&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 19px;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="line-height: 19px;"&gt;Time to update the diary on events here on Araxes....&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="line-height: 19px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="line-height: 19px;"&gt;A week or so ago, I attended a function held by Lady Ariadne Fall. The evening was successful, not to mention eventful but I'll come to that in a minute. People were talking and there were varying degrees of networking going on between various groups and interests.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-mqm_spaKxmU/TyHfphp0wqI/AAAAAAAAALo/minF3NsEGds/s1600/serenbloglog_001.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="227" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-mqm_spaKxmU/TyHfphp0wqI/AAAAAAAAALo/minF3NsEGds/s320/serenbloglog_001.jpg" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="line-height: 19px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="line-height: 19px;"&gt;The party proceeded at a steady pace and we were making merry. Lady Ariadne was her usual elegant self, she began polite conversation with everyone and the discussions were interesting, if not very informative. That was all about to change however....&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="line-height: 19px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="line-height: 19px;"&gt;The Lady Ariadne called the party to attention. She wanted to discuss documents that had arrived on her desk. The documents, she claimed, directly implicated the Myrmidons and their leader, Athena &lt;/span&gt;Prime of&lt;span style="line-height: 19px;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;involvement in the death of former &lt;/span&gt;Beit Dawla&lt;span style="line-height: 19px;"&gt; delegate Jade &lt;/span&gt;Moonkill&lt;span style="line-height: 19px;"&gt;. An&amp;nbsp;assassin's&amp;nbsp;contract. I remember it clearly, the sharp intake of breath, the moment of silent shock where the people wondered what to say next.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="line-height: 19px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="line-height: 19px;"&gt;Lady Ariadne is an incredibly intelligent,&amp;nbsp;intuitive&amp;nbsp;and some might say cunning woman. She knows how to shape her words and timing to achieve the most impact : &amp;nbsp;this was no exception. Of course, it sparked a heated debate. Accusations were thrown around and I won't deny I was involved in quite a bit of it.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="line-height: 19px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="line-height: 19px;"&gt;Of course, things are always much more complicated than they seem. Take the Lady Ariadne. She's a member of a ancient sect upon which layer upon layer of superstition and myth have been added to the point that no-one really knows what they're capable of or what their aims are. Some people call them witches, that they have special insight and powers of influence. They say they're good at making you see things their way although whether that's a mystical, psychic ability or if they're just skilled negotiators, &amp;nbsp;I can't say.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="line-height: 19px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="line-height: 19px;"&gt;However, I will say that she speaks in a very delicate way that makes you hang on every word and that's a skill many people would yearn for.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="line-height: 19px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="line-height: 19px;"&gt;I reported the incident to the Consulari in a private com-link discussion and brought the matter to the Beit Dawla. Looking back, I can't help but think I argued Lady Ariadne's case more strongly than I intended. I suggested that, if Lady Ariadne's evidence is correct, the Myrmidon Order's former Beit Dawla representative Skymet may be implicated in holding up the investigation. By all accounts, Skymet is an honourable and noble type - but you would have to think her loyalties lie with the Myrmidon Order above all else.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="line-height: 19px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="line-height: 19px;"&gt;I know that it's entirely possible that the Laandsrat are trying to shift the blame to someone else to cover their own backs. Landing that haughty bunch in the slammer was a major achievement for the the late Ms Moonkill and they weren't best pleased. No, not pleased at all.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="line-height: 19px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="line-height: 19px;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;She takes another sip from her drink, then another before draining the glass entirely.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="line-height: 19px;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="line-height: 19px;"&gt;I don't know if we'll ever get to the bottom of this mystery. Probably won't pull it off in my time on the Dawla council but &lt;a href="http://siamendes.blogspot.com/2012/01/shattered-jade-part-one.html" target="_blank"&gt;I'm assured we have top minds working on it&lt;/a&gt;. &amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="line-height: 19px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="line-height: 19px;"&gt;In the meantime, I have my working relationship with the &lt;/span&gt;Saif&lt;span style="line-height: 19px;"&gt; Al-&lt;/span&gt;Azaadi&lt;span style="line-height: 19px;"&gt; to think about. Officially she's designated as my deputy but I don't think of her in that way. I don't think of myself as her superior and neither does she. We're working on an alliance for the mutual benefit of all free traders on Araxes.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="line-height: 19px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="line-height: 19px;"&gt;Beyond that, there are rumours of new legalisation regarding traders, the issue of &lt;/span&gt;terraforming&lt;span style="line-height: 19px;"&gt; the planet (oft tried, I hear the Guild won't have it) and it isn't as though I don't have my own business to run. Elena has a brilliant mind but she lacks the edge to push deals through.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="line-height: 19px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="line-height: 19px;"&gt;We need to get the &lt;/span&gt;&lt;i style="line-height: 19px;"&gt;Persephone&lt;/i&gt;&lt;span style="line-height: 19px;"&gt; back up in the air. I've had her sitting on &lt;/span&gt;Araxes&lt;span style="line-height: 19px;"&gt; for far too long and the extra work for the rest of the fleet is unfair. Whilst I'm making a good sum of &lt;/span&gt;Solari&lt;span style="line-height: 19px;"&gt; from my role in government, I need to think about what will happen afterwards - I can't lose&amp;nbsp;valuable&amp;nbsp;contracts. Once Elena has located the missing stock, I've told her to depart&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="line-height: 19px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="line-height: 19px;"&gt;Actually, I hear her coming now. &amp;nbsp;Okay, we'll leave this there.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="line-height: 19px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="line-height: 19px;"&gt;Terminate log, encrypt save and transmit.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="line-height: 19px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4835544831229065493-6874766743660463985?l=persephoneone.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://persephoneone.blogspot.com/feeds/6874766743660463985/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://persephoneone.blogspot.com/2012/01/log-ariadnes-thread.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4835544831229065493/posts/default/6874766743660463985'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4835544831229065493/posts/default/6874766743660463985'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://persephoneone.blogspot.com/2012/01/log-ariadnes-thread.html' title='Ariadne&apos;s Thread'/><author><name>Seren</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02879912288228062152</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='19' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_uxGPcFI0o9Y/TG25XvXgllI/AAAAAAAAACI/dBanb3N5aV8/S220/nudearty_001.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-mqm_spaKxmU/TyHfphp0wqI/AAAAAAAAALo/minF3NsEGds/s72-c/serenbloglog_001.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4835544831229065493.post-7940813445714606139</id><published>2012-01-22T17:11:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2012-01-28T17:00:01.452-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='RETCON'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='out of character'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='galewind'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='editorial'/><title type='text'>[OOC Doing a George Lucas]</title><content type='html'>&lt;h1 style="background-color: white; color: #e47700; display: inline; font: normal normal bold 18px/normal Arial, Helvetica, Verdana, sans-serif; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; text-align: left;"&gt;retcon&lt;/h1&gt;&lt;span class="definition" style="background-color: white; font: normal normal normal 16px/normal Georgia, Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; text-align: left;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;i&gt;v.&lt;/i&gt;&amp;nbsp;to retroactively revise (a plot, storyline, character, event, history, etc.), usu. by reinterpreting past events, or by theorizing how the present would be different if past events had not happened or had happened differently.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a name='more'&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;b style="color: #cc0000; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;Elena Galewind&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="definition" style="background-color: white; font: normal normal normal 16px/normal Georgia, Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;strike&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;Elena Galewind is a class of artificial lifeform that was routinely banned throughout much of the Imperium. Created on the dystopian world of Killian , a world out in the fringes of Imperial space, Galewind was gifted to the Undercroft family following the death of Seren's mother by an unknown third party. A loyal companion, Galewind has stood beside her "mistress" throughout her childhood, teenage years and adult life and is sworn to protect her at all costs.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strike&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="definition" style="background-color: white; font: normal normal normal 16px/normal Georgia, Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;strike&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strike&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: red; font-family: Georgia, Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;Elena Galewind&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Georgia, Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-small;"&gt;Elena Galewind is a Mentis Adept Processor, a human trained throughout their lives to be the epitomy of logic and reasoning. A Mentis Adept is capable of inferring linkages and exhibiting an extraordinary perception of events. A fully prepared Mentis Adept is capable of retaining and linking information - a photographic memory - and can repeat entire books and conversations word for word. As a processor, she can file, sort, compare and deduce information to a 98.5% accuracy......&lt;i&gt;and so on&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Georgia, Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"&gt;I'm taking the time now to do some adjustments to the blog - firstly to adjust the Elena Galewind character - actually that's pretty major, more about that in a minute, and secondly to make minor changes to various posts to ensure they fit in with the overall continuity of the general storyline. For example, the Corrosion post now directly references the Hoto Nagi assault on the AR Pharma facility to match &lt;a href="http://siamendes.blogspot.com/2012/01/shattered-jade-part-one.html" target="_blank"&gt;Pepper's blog&lt;/a&gt;.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"&gt;So back to Galewind : &amp;nbsp;basically she's a humanoid computer instead of an actual computer now. Not as simple a change as you might think. I've had to go through every single post to change the term from droid to Mentis. I'm also having to work through the blog and "reshoot" some of the photos where possible. &amp;nbsp;Some posts have been subtly changed, others more drastically so - &amp;nbsp;notably on part one of &lt;a href="http://persephoneone.blogspot.com/2011/08/family-ties.html" target="_blank"&gt;Seren's return home&lt;/a&gt;. Galewind's conversion from holographic headed droid to blue-skinned cyborg was no longer relevant so that post now exclusively deals with the introduction of the Ulysses Undercroft and Gulgus Machydon characters. One &lt;a href="http://persephoneone.blogspot.com/2011/07/droid-misbehavin_01.html" target="_blank"&gt;apocryphral post&lt;/a&gt; remains, it was proving too hard to rework and I didn't have the heart to delete it because it's a particular favourite of mine and made me giggle when I was writing it. Galewind returns home to the &lt;i&gt;Persephone&lt;/i&gt;, after a rare RP jaunt around the sim, and to Seren's astonishment she discovers Galewind has borrowed clothes from her wardrobe including a terrible orange wig that she won't admit to owning.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-iaVxllo-MFQ/TxzQVysiFXI/AAAAAAAAALI/F9NfJ6cYLaI/s1600/newgalewind_001.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="282" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-iaVxllo-MFQ/TxzQVysiFXI/AAAAAAAAALI/F9NfJ6cYLaI/s400/newgalewind_001.jpg" width="400" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"&gt;You might think why go through all the effort of changing a character if it's such a pain to do, especially one who is rarely seen inworld. Well, just because! I'd tried to reboot this character once before in order to play her more often inworld. She's a very difficult character to play and I find it hard to make her behaviour consistent in the blog. She's also continually getting mistaken for an Andorian or just last week, a Hoto Nagi. It makes RP difficult when the person you're roleplaying with has completely the wrong idea about what the character is! I suspect that I'll miss the original version of the character - there's a definite comedic spark between them and I don't know if that humour will work the same with the new version.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"&gt;Of course, it doesn't really matter. The contents of this blog don't affect the rest of the RP universe but for some reason I felt the need to explain - perhaps to myself - and this post does that. So, thank you if you've read this far. It's a couple of minutes of your life you'll never get back but hey :)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"&gt;Seren&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"&gt;x&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4835544831229065493-7940813445714606139?l=persephoneone.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://persephoneone.blogspot.com/feeds/7940813445714606139/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://persephoneone.blogspot.com/2012/01/ooc-doing-george-lucas.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4835544831229065493/posts/default/7940813445714606139'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4835544831229065493/posts/default/7940813445714606139'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://persephoneone.blogspot.com/2012/01/ooc-doing-george-lucas.html' title='[OOC Doing a George Lucas]'/><author><name>Seren</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02879912288228062152</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='19' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_uxGPcFI0o9Y/TG25XvXgllI/AAAAAAAAACI/dBanb3N5aV8/S220/nudearty_001.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-iaVxllo-MFQ/TxzQVysiFXI/AAAAAAAAALI/F9NfJ6cYLaI/s72-c/newgalewind_001.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4835544831229065493.post-6022507550950353676</id><published>2012-01-12T12:02:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2012-01-22T15:32:35.397-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='dave gaffer'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='zenobia'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='willard deerhunter'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='araxes'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='beit dawla'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='arnold gustov'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='captain sisko'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='jai raghilda'/><title type='text'>Taking stock of the situation.</title><content type='html'>Seren sat back in her new chair within the council chambers. Her office was small and without natural light, save for the entrance where a beam of sunlight from the landing cut across the darkness. There was a faint cinnamon-esque tincture that she immediately recognised as the spice, Raqismanna. There were other odours, the smell of beeswax on the desk, a waft of floral scent she didn't recognise and others she put down to the age of the building. She surveyed the desk she'd just laid out. To her right, a small curiosity box she'd picked up many years ago and yet had never found use for and the holo-monitor she'd picked up on her last trip home. She'd had problems with it up at the Highport Station - Rettian and Araxian power couplets weren't immediately compatible and it had taken a while to complete the conversion process. Still, other than a few visual glitches it seemed to be working satisfactorily.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-jqQ3BrR98do/TwyU93q4H9I/AAAAAAAAAJs/BFYc6n65jRw/s1600/office_001.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="189" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-jqQ3BrR98do/TwyU93q4H9I/AAAAAAAAAJs/BFYc6n65jRw/s320/office_001.jpg" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;To the left, the computer terminal. She anticipated that she'd be spending a lot of time with the touchpad and had taken a few moments to get acquainted with it. A classic Rettian vase-lamp sat beyond that. It used a flammable substance to illuminate the room. Archaic in a time when various forms of electricity existed but she preferred the gentle glow to the harsh bright lighting systems she'd experienced elsewhere. Even on the &lt;i&gt;Persephone&lt;/i&gt;, she usually had the lighting dimmed preferring the light from the stars and instrument panels to the unrelenting glare of artificial illumination. Although the room was dark, it wasn't something unusual and she found the lamp light comforting and intrinsically right.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She flicked the monitor on, danced her fingers across the terminal and pulled up the other Beit Dawla delegates. She didn't have access to their personnel files but she'd made a few notes along the way. A suspicion nagged at her. She knew all of them, bar the native Willard Deerhunter and as the natives were known to keep to themselves, that didn't surprise her. Of course, during the election process, it would have been natural to meet the fellow candidates but something still gnawed at the back of her mind.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Baronetess Jai Raghilda Lordhunter was someone Seren had encountered on and off for a few months. Initially she hadn't thought anything of the petite, unassuming but elegantly attired lady she first met &amp;nbsp;at the bar at the Water's End. They'd spoken casually and drank together. It was only in the coming months she learnt she was a Baronetess and Consulari of House Zenobia and the Zenobian Trade Consul. The last time she'd met Jai was on a personal invite to the Zenobian Consul in Al Raqis. It had been a warm autumnal evening, or at least was passed for autumn on Araxes, and Seren had enjoyed the stroll from the &lt;i&gt;Persephone'&lt;/i&gt;s berth, through the thinning crowd of Al Raqis to the Consul building. Jai had been watching her from the roof and beckoned her up. She proposed a trade of goods, Seren had agreed and they'd shuttled up to Jai's vast frigate in orbit. Once there, Jai had given her a thorough tour of the ship and what stock she had available.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It had been something of an epiphany. Seren had glanced from one side of the ship to another and estimated how many trips she'd have to make in the &lt;i&gt;Persephone&lt;/i&gt; to carry the same load. The answer was more than she 'd care to admit. In fact, it had pricked Seren's ego more than she'd thought and when the Consulari had asked how big her hold was, she had exaggerated. She remembered Galewind's perplexed look the following day when the goods were delivered to the landing platform. They'd had to hire storage space in the city until such a time they could ferry the goods offworld. But something else had troubled her. Half way through the tour, the news had broken that the Highport voting terminal had been tampered with and there were suspicions of vote rigging. &amp;nbsp;It struck her as more than coincidental that she was with the Beit Dawla's appointed chairperson at the time it was announced. She'd considered the possibilities. One, it was pure coincidence. Two, was there a conspiracy to implicate her as the vote rigger? Plenty of people had seen her leave orbit with the Magistrate appointed leader of the Beit Dawla and the Laandsrat was still suffering from a credibility issue following their imprisonment. Three, someone was trying to get her off world when the story broke to protect her from the controversy. And four, her ego was getting the better of her again and she was jumping to all sorts of conclusions.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dave Gaffer she knew as a competitor. Vulture Gear and Shipping had emerged recently onto the Araxian scene and had certainly made an impact securing contracts that Seren herself had been keen to get her hands on. Initially he'd had the backing of the CFTA (subsequently the SFTU) but internal strife had lead to them parting the ways. Waypoint X had closed down but there wasn't necessarily any correlation between the two events. In any case, Gaffer was a skilled negotiator with a pool of contacts across the Imperium and the Federation. During the Black Pox Blockade, he's managed to secure special dispensation to ferry medical goods to and from the planet, something she'd wished she'd done herself. Since then, she'd heard he'd taken on a position as professor at one of Starfleet's academies and was splitting his time between there and his trade business on Araxes. He led a busy life and could clearly juggle his responsibilities.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Arnold Gustav she'd met only recently. He ran the Kaden Personal Security company. They'd first met at the Reverend Mother's function at Nyce. Unexpectedly, he'd managed to circumvent Seren's distrust of the military. He spoke openly and at great length and displayed a tactful, thoughtful approach to defusing the Myrmidon's suspicions on their arrival. That was reassuring. He'd also suggested that Persephone Trading could make use of his services. She'd been unsure of how to proceed but suggested he look into the protection racket that was currently causing problems to a few of the traders on the 'Rock. Hopefully they might be able to get Gulgus off her back long enough to figure out what he was up to. Since then, they'd met a few times. Once in the Oasis Winds Tavern where she'd let slip she knew something she shouldn't. He hadn't liked that and began to interrogate her albeit in the nicest possible way. Most recently, he'd found her on the &lt;i&gt;Persephone&lt;/i&gt; itself after she'd woken from a brief nap. He'd warned her that the information she knew could be potentially dangerous to her and although she was dubious, she had no reason to doubt his sincerity.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Q3VJLuev-Es/TwyU-yaffKI/AAAAAAAAAJ0/yQROl7m9F_g/s1600/office_002.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="190" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Q3VJLuev-Es/TwyU-yaffKI/AAAAAAAAAJ0/yQROl7m9F_g/s320/office_002.jpg" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Captain Sisko she had known longer than anyone. They'd first met when he mistook her for a former colleague with whom she had a striking resemblance. Galewind didn't like him. When she'd ran scans, the computer had been unable to identify his DNA and that troubled her. Seren had put it down to a computer fault and hadn't thought any more about it. Since then, they'd met and chatted a while over the occasional drink at the former colony beyond the deep desert. They'd had the occasional falling out, the Narstrom Incident has shocked her but it had been a complex affair and Seren had softened her views since then. As it was, the colony had since been reclaimed by the sands and they hadn't spoken as much recently. Sisko had been having a rough time. The UFS had disavowed his organisation claiming they were impostors and terrorists. In the following months they'd run into problems with one of the many militias, the SSFS.&amp;nbsp;When he entered into the running for the Beit Dawla she'd been surprised but she was satisfied he knew what he was doing. She didn't know much about the situation with the SSFS but she made up her mind she would ask him and find out what was going on.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That left the native, Willard Deerhunter. She didn't know anything about him at all but he was a native and suspected he might make a good ally. She would need to talk to him and discuss his position and see if there was a mutual benefit of them working together or if they were destined to argue across the chamber.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In truth, she still couldn't believe she'd won a position in the Beit Dawla. She knew that it was going to limit her trading capabilities. It was bad politics to spend most of your time offworld, she'd thought. For that reason, she'd given the every day running of the &lt;i&gt;Persephone&lt;/i&gt; to Galewind who would fly the trade routes in her absence while allowing Seren to conduct business deals around her role with the government.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She flicked the monitor off and lay back in her chair listening to the hustle and bustle of the city outside. Without doubt this was a major change in her life and she wondered where it would lead. Then she remembered Ms. Moonkill and sighed, looking up to the ceiling before putting her feet up on the desk and opening the bottle of rum she carried in her belt.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4835544831229065493-6022507550950353676?l=persephoneone.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://persephoneone.blogspot.com/feeds/6022507550950353676/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://persephoneone.blogspot.com/2012/01/taking-stock-of-situation.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4835544831229065493/posts/default/6022507550950353676'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4835544831229065493/posts/default/6022507550950353676'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://persephoneone.blogspot.com/2012/01/taking-stock-of-situation.html' title='Taking stock of the situation.'/><author><name>Seren</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02879912288228062152</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='19' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_uxGPcFI0o9Y/TG25XvXgllI/AAAAAAAAACI/dBanb3N5aV8/S220/nudearty_001.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-jqQ3BrR98do/TwyU93q4H9I/AAAAAAAAAJs/BFYc6n65jRw/s72-c/office_001.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4835544831229065493.post-2714935089025524355</id><published>2012-01-08T09:55:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2012-01-22T18:25:02.458-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='election'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='beit dawla'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Seren'/><title type='text'>"And the results are in..."</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-_BkZd6pSC_Q/TxzEs2NBnzI/AAAAAAAAALA/XHm1BGQnRyE/s1600/winelection_003.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="227" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-_BkZd6pSC_Q/TxzEs2NBnzI/AAAAAAAAALA/XHm1BGQnRyE/s320/winelection_003.jpg" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;Several weeks ago...&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Free grey geese ina greenfield grazing".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Galewind tutted. "Say it again, this time properly."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Seren looked up at her companion, aghast. "I did say it properly. I've been saying it properly for the past ten minutes."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Galewind shook her head, seemed to take a deep breath and then said "Three grey geese in a green field grazing. Do you see the difference? Speak slowly and clearly. Emphasise both vowel and consonant. Pronounce each word separately."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Free grey geese in a green field grazing", Seren looked up at the Mentis Adept who was shaking her head again, "Come on, Elena, is this really necessary?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Captain, it is entirely possible you may be elected to the Araxian House of State, the Beit Dawla. It is therefore imperative that you project the correct image. The rough language of a rum soaked space trader may be appealing to the electorate but you will be coming into regular contact with some of the most elite and prestigious figures in the universe. You may even meet the Sovereign Emperor himself. An air of sophistication will allow you to ingratiate yourself with the great and the powerful and stand you in good stead for the future. Now, repeat after me..."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Free grey geese ina green field grazing...I know!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;* * * * * * *&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;Present Day&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It had come as a shock. Seren had been sitting nervously in a make-shift bunk in the Persephone's hull, wedged in between a box of Fruity Oats and Prime Beef, waiting for the &lt;a href="http://alraqisraconteur.blogspot.com/2012/01/election-is-over.html" target="_blank"&gt;Al Raqis Raconteur &lt;/a&gt;to announce the final results of the poll. She didn't know if she was supposed to be somewhere special. In truth, she didn't even think she had a chance of winning a seat - a poor girl from the extremities of the Imperium without financial clout or political friends - the chances were unlikely at best.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;And the preliminary election results are in....these are still to be confirmed by &amp;nbsp;a formal announcement, swearing oath and a satisfactory resolution of vote rigging allegations....&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Seren closed her eyes and prepared for the disappointment. She was already trying to rationalise her defeat and get her mind back on more mundane things.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;Arnold Gustav....&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Disappointment. But still three more places to go.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;Dave Gaffer.....&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe they were going in alphabetical order...anyway, that was two places gone. She felt a sickly feeling in her chest.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;Seren Undercroft....&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She thought she'd misheard. Or she'd imagined it. Then she realised that the sounds from the cockpit had stopped. Gale was no longer entering the shipment dockets into the computer. Instead she was coming down the ramp.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;Willard Deerhunter and Captain Sisko complete the provisional line-up. They will receive one half vote each.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Congratulations!", her companion exclaimed, smiling widely. By the time she'd finished the word, Seren&amp;nbsp;had already bounced out of her bunk, grabbed her in a bear hug and was pumping her fist in the air.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After a few moments, Seren had regained some of her composure although she still emoted with her arms excitedly. "So what do we do now?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Galewind was about to speak when a cacophony of sound began to echo throughout the hull, reminiscent of hundred birds suddenly singing at once. "The Communications Terminal, I believe?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They bounded up the ramp to the cockpit and stood in front of the Comm Terminal. Lights flickered incessantly indicating that messages were arriving and the display screen showed line after line of message headers. Seren noticed a few familiar names or words. Galewind, saw all and began pointing them out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-yi_-UwJYzi4/TxzCERNNDvI/AAAAAAAAAK4/aXVvKO0ys7c/s1600/winelection_001.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="227" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-yi_-UwJYzi4/TxzCERNNDvI/AAAAAAAAAK4/aXVvKO0ys7c/s320/winelection_001.png" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"A communication of congratulations from the Heiland Haus on &lt;a href="http://persephone.wikia.com/wiki/Rette" target="_blank"&gt;Rette&lt;/a&gt;....a dispatch of delight from the Salle de la Liberte on Nena, an epistle of elation from the Parliamentum de Aetate on Provincia..."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Seren looked at her companion wide eyed as she read out the messages from the planets of the &lt;a href="http://persephone.wikia.com/wiki/The_New_Paradigm" target="_blank"&gt;Paradigm&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"You're the first citizen of the Seven Suns to sit in any sort of Imperial office in almost four generations. No doubt there will be some gnashing of teeth amongst some of the more prominent political families back home who will no doubt sing your praises in public while assessing how to bring you back down with a bump. So to speak."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I'm not going to worry too much about what's going on back home right now" said Seren dismissively, "I think we have more than enough problems and potential enemies to worry about here. Anyway...I think this calls for a drink?" She reached into a crate of Blue Sun Beer and threw one over to her companion, "Cheers!"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4835544831229065493-2714935089025524355?l=persephoneone.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://persephoneone.blogspot.com/feeds/2714935089025524355/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://persephoneone.blogspot.com/2012/01/and-results-are-in.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4835544831229065493/posts/default/2714935089025524355'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4835544831229065493/posts/default/2714935089025524355'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://persephoneone.blogspot.com/2012/01/and-results-are-in.html' title='&quot;And the results are in...&quot;'/><author><name>Seren</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02879912288228062152</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='19' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_uxGPcFI0o9Y/TG25XvXgllI/AAAAAAAAACI/dBanb3N5aV8/S220/nudearty_001.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-_BkZd6pSC_Q/TxzEs2NBnzI/AAAAAAAAALA/XHm1BGQnRyE/s72-c/winelection_003.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4835544831229065493.post-3051437590069770455</id><published>2011-12-14T19:00:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2012-01-22T17:20:49.903-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='araxes'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='beit dawla'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='galewind'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='persephone one'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Seren'/><title type='text'>"Out of the frying pan....and into politics"</title><content type='html'>"Captain, this really can't go on."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-9sGQ_qJp3uM/Txy1mTvRj4I/AAAAAAAAAKY/dPbhbHkJsBc/s1600/galewindredux_001.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="198" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-9sGQ_qJp3uM/Txy1mTvRj4I/AAAAAAAAAKY/dPbhbHkJsBc/s320/galewindredux_001.png" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Seren lifted her head from the basin where moments earlier she'd been revisiting the night before in the worst possible way. "I....totally....agree", she said looking bleary eyed, "Oh no...."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Elena Galewind raised her eyebrows and looked up at the ceiling, averting her eyes from the retching figure in front of her. &amp;nbsp;From the basin, she heard a voice mumble "Where does this all come from? Where?".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"In most humanoids, the stomach can hold around one liter and in some obscure cultural observations as much as one gallon of liquid although as you are discovering, it is inadvisable to do so."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Seren peered up from the basin incredulously. "Thank you so much for that."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"In all seriousness Captain, it would be for the best if you drank lower quantities of alcohol. Maybe something to focus the mind on?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Hand me a towel, will you?" Seren asked, taking it from Elena as she offered it and using it to cleanse her face of sweat, "What would you suggest? Gladitorial combat or sandworm rodeo?". She gingerly moved across the &lt;i&gt;Persephone&lt;/i&gt; cargo bay, holding her stomach and shaking her head before falling back into the retractable sofa.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Captain, having witnessed your combat skills and buffalo-yak riding, I would not recommend either."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Sometimes I don't know if you're being sarcastic or you actually mean what you say."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Elena smiled and retrieved a datapad from the shelf. She touched the screen and it illuminated her face. "I was thinking something more along these lines". She handed Seren the datapad.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Run for the Beit Dawla? What, are you serious? This is your solution? What, my ever-closer ruin, impending criminal charges, Gulgus Machydon's presence on Araxes and my entire life falling apart isn't enough, you want me to shoulder the responsibility of like, an entire planet? No wonder I turn to drink. "&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Elena tilted her head. "Captain, ....you do yourself an injustice. I have known you for many years and in all that time you have never failed to show the ingenuity, resilience and as your father might say, bloody-mindedness to get yourself out of many awkward situations and prevail. You have suffered in many ways. You understand the plight people tolerate because they have no other option...."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"You mean bloody-minded as in being cantankerous right? I'm always up for compliments, thanks for that....oh by the way I also steal, smuggle and generally get up to no good. Perfect candidate, right?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Through necessity. Not through choice. Did you not leave supplies at the station in orbit of Dragons Egg for the refugees of Hale's Moon when it would have been more beneficial to sell the products here on Araxes?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Seren laughed "And where did it get me? Boarded by raiders and in a coma for a week."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"You are a compassionate person. Irrational, excitable and occasionally reckless perhaps. You know how government works, the sort of people that it attracts and what they do with the power they have. "&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"On Rette, on Nena maybe....come on, this is a whole different kettle of fish. This is Araxes...."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Regardless, I have already prepared a speech for you and submitted documentation on your behalf."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"What?!". Suddenly Seren felt unwell again, leaning forward holding her stomach.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Indeed, I received confirmation from the authorities a short time ago."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Seren sat hunched over, her head almost between her knees silently listening to the faint rumble of the energy systems and sensing the pulsing throb beneath her feet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-lrDZ3B-VvU4/Txy1syTnPVI/AAAAAAAAAKg/iIM1xItnNv0/s1600/galewindredux_003.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="239" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-lrDZ3B-VvU4/Txy1syTnPVI/AAAAAAAAAKg/iIM1xItnNv0/s320/galewindredux_003.png" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Minutes passed in quiet reflection. Then Seren lifted her head, her eyes closed with fingers clenching the bridge of her nose. With a faint smile in her voice she said &amp;nbsp;"Sometimes I really think you have a loose connection". &amp;nbsp;She opened her eyes and looked at Elena with a clarity of thought and purpose "So you really think I can pull this off, huh?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I would not suggest it otherwise. Even in a worst case scenario, I believe you will gain much from the experience. However, you should rest. You have a busy few days ahead of you and I need to prepare..."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Seren lay back on the sofa, watching Elena as she walked away to fulfil her duties. Looking up at the ceiling of the &lt;i&gt;Persephone, &lt;/i&gt;she allowed a smile to cross her face&lt;i&gt;.&lt;/i&gt;&amp;nbsp;Elena had delivered the kick up the arse she'd needed and she knew it. The droid knew her too well. "Delgate Undercroft...well, it does have a certain ring to it I suppose."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4835544831229065493-3051437590069770455?l=persephoneone.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://persephoneone.blogspot.com/feeds/3051437590069770455/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://persephoneone.blogspot.com/2011/12/out-of-frying-panand-into-politics.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4835544831229065493/posts/default/3051437590069770455'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4835544831229065493/posts/default/3051437590069770455'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://persephoneone.blogspot.com/2011/12/out-of-frying-panand-into-politics.html' title='&quot;Out of the frying pan....and into politics&quot;'/><author><name>Seren</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02879912288228062152</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='19' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_uxGPcFI0o9Y/TG25XvXgllI/AAAAAAAAACI/dBanb3N5aV8/S220/nudearty_001.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-9sGQ_qJp3uM/Txy1mTvRj4I/AAAAAAAAAKY/dPbhbHkJsBc/s72-c/galewindredux_001.png' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4835544831229065493.post-5427447359269533918</id><published>2011-11-30T19:26:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2012-01-28T16:48:06.251-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='jade moonkill'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='araxes'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Gulgus'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='al raqis'/><title type='text'>Corrosion</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;"What the heck is this?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Seren stood on a landing platform where the &lt;i&gt;Persephone&lt;/i&gt; was berthed and squinted up into the sunlight at the figure of Elena Galewind, who was perched on a hastily assembled scaffold assessing the hull of the ship.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-PE8eh0w9x8c/Txy2aPwGSZI/AAAAAAAAAKw/CNc89nOiZNw/s1600/galewindredux_005.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="239" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-PE8eh0w9x8c/Txy2aPwGSZI/AAAAAAAAAKw/CNc89nOiZNw/s320/galewindredux_005.png" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Elena turned and kneeled, "Hello captain. It would be wise for you to join me up here. We have accumulated damage".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Damage?!" Seren's voice was both angry and curious at the same time "How is that possible?". She clambered up the scaffold and on to the platform. She didn't know if the wobbling was down to the struts or the alcohol but she noticed Elena staring a little too long.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I'm not drunk if that's what you're thinking."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Elena didn't answer but instead focused on the gaping hole in the &lt;i&gt;Persephone'&lt;/i&gt;s hull that had exposed the underlying frame, servos and wiring. "As you can see captain, the hull seems to have been corroded in some fashion.", her fingers moved around the hole, "It does not appear to be weapons fire, the corrosion appears to have developed slowly rather than in a sudden burst. I have the droids running scans as we speak."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Seren moved in closer &amp;nbsp;and orbited her fingers along the rusting hole. Small clouds of dust fell from the hull where she touched. "It's very brittle. What's the extent of this to the whole ship?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-OoqLjqjNzOE/Txy2YT7BiDI/AAAAAAAAAKo/JftcR7kDwRQ/s1600/galewindredux_004.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="239" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-OoqLjqjNzOE/Txy2YT7BiDI/AAAAAAAAAKo/JftcR7kDwRQ/s320/galewindredux_004.png" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I am still running diagnostics on that. However, I have noticed additional corrosion on more exposed areas of the ship.", Elena pointed to the rear of the ship and a rusting brown tint. "As soon as I come up with a solution, I shall let you know."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Seren rubbed her face. "This is the last thing we need right now. On top of everything else, we really don't need this!". She sat down on the platform and dangled her feet over the side, looking out towards a desert obscured by the wreckage of the ARPharma complex&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Could that be responsible?", she said as she pointed to the ruined structure.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Elena's head tilted from side to side, a giveaway trait of her training . Seren had always taken it as a sign Elena was thinking particularly hard about something.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-w3AkTT6ncWw/Ttbt947J_SI/AAAAAAAAAIA/6LBtAEF0R1M/s1600/Corrosion_003.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="233" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-w3AkTT6ncWw/Ttbt947J_SI/AAAAAAAAAIA/6LBtAEF0R1M/s320/Corrosion_003.png" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;"It is not impossible. Given the heavy pounding the city received from the Hoto Nagi during their recent incursion...."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"So the 'Seph could have been damaged in the battle or by something leaking out of the facility?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I shall look into it." said Elena, somewhat preoccupied as she tapped away at a datapad, "There is an increased amount of toxicity in the air. I will need to run further analysis and liaise with the authorities and others nearby".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She would have continued with her findings but noticed that it was the Captain's turn to be preoccupied. For a moment Elena seemed unsure of whether to speak as she attempted to judge her friend's mood. &amp;nbsp;"It is unfortunate we find ourselves in this predicament."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"This isn't your fault, Elena. Not the damage to the hull or....", the Captain paused momentarily, her lips pursed together, "Look, you weren't to know Salome was buying those engines from Gulgus, let's move on as best we can."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Elena nodded but ventured, perhaps unwisely, to comment further. &amp;nbsp;"It was most unfortunate to hear of Ms Moonkill's premature demise. For all her flaws, she did seem to point towards a future a little less dark. It seems to have affected you more than you have let on?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Seren nodded and reached for her flask. She put it to her lips and drank a full quart. "Didn't know her Elena, never got the chance. Maybe she could have made a difference. Maybe not. We'll never know". She paused for a few moments before she turned to her companion, "Besides, you think anyone here cares about her or us, for that matter? We're just a &amp;nbsp;grain in the sand along with the rest of the people on this overblown sandpit. Ready to be sifted by the powers that be or end up being dusted off someone's carpet."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Captain glared into the setting suns with an air of frustration. "Do you remember the days when this was sorta fun? The days when we stayed in sleazy hotels and drank too much in the bar? How'd we end up here?". The question was rhetorical, the captain had already began to clamber down the scaffolding. Elena had no reason to ask where the captain was going. It was the same place she'd come from. The nearest bar.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4835544831229065493-5427447359269533918?l=persephoneone.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://persephoneone.blogspot.com/feeds/5427447359269533918/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://persephoneone.blogspot.com/2011/11/corrosion.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4835544831229065493/posts/default/5427447359269533918'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4835544831229065493/posts/default/5427447359269533918'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://persephoneone.blogspot.com/2011/11/corrosion.html' title='Corrosion'/><author><name>Seren</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02879912288228062152</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='19' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_uxGPcFI0o9Y/TG25XvXgllI/AAAAAAAAACI/dBanb3N5aV8/S220/nudearty_001.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-PE8eh0w9x8c/Txy2aPwGSZI/AAAAAAAAAKw/CNc89nOiZNw/s72-c/galewindredux_005.png' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4835544831229065493.post-9026417692472223469</id><published>2011-11-06T12:33:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2012-01-28T16:43:36.851-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Collective'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='New Paradigm'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='beit dewla'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='araxes'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='splintered rock'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='laandsrat'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Securitas'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Seren'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Gulgus'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='magistrate'/><title type='text'>Upheaval</title><content type='html'>The &amp;nbsp;port at Splintered Rock was brisk with activity. With the blockade now lifted and traffic free to leave the planet, the port was noisier than ever. Freighters docked, loaded and left, replaced with new freighters eager to deliver their goods or load them up for planets afar. The USD military presence was still felt strongly. Their fighter craft patrolled the skies with yet more docked on the platform ready to take off at a moment's notice. The &amp;nbsp;familiar smells of fuel, livestock, cinnamon and smoke sat heavily on the air.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And yet there was a feeling of change, a fresh outlook. The Laandsrat appeared to have been toppled. The Magistrate and the Leaders of the Great Houses were incarcerated in various places or otherwise under very close observation. The Beit Dawla, the recently formed second chamber of the Araxian government had claimed control of the planet. Powerful members of the Guild had been sent by the Sovereign Emperor himself to personally prosecute the Laandsrat.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Numerous factions had raced to deliver a cure. AR Pharma, the Blue Sun Corporation, Clan Misrim, the Companions of Paquin and numerous others. Some free, some not. Some worked, some didn't.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yet, there had been much change, and as Seren worked on repairing the&lt;i&gt; 'Seph, &lt;/i&gt;she knew the turbulent politics, wargames and posturing on the planet had cost her dearly. Unable to leave the planet, she hadn't been able to fulfil her obligations. Her cargo had rotted or was now surplus to requirements, her customers had now procured new suppliers. There were financial penalties invoked and she'd been liable for them all. Their offices, up on the orbiting High Port station had been reclaimed. The &lt;i&gt;Persephone &lt;/i&gt;itself was again in need of repair and she'd used the last of the company's credits to buy and smuggle the parts necessary. The budget for the PTC was a tight one and having one ship out of business was a costly exercise. Even now as the blockade was lifted, she was missing out on important business opportunities. Unable to get the '&lt;i&gt;Seph&lt;/i&gt; in the air, she couldn't take on any work and the &lt;i&gt;Folly&lt;/i&gt; wouldn't return to Araxes for another couple of days.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All in all, she thought, whilst she was glad about the changes happening on Araxes, she'd wished it had been a little less harsh on her personally.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-tCAYeFuQrFA/TrbiGCjguGI/AAAAAAAAAHQ/T392JyZh0co/s1600/workingonptc_001.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-tCAYeFuQrFA/TrbiGCjguGI/AAAAAAAAAHQ/T392JyZh0co/s320/workingonptc_001.png" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;"Undercroft!", the grizzled male voice seemed to echo in her ears a little too long. It was a voice she recognised - a voice from the past and one she hadn't expected. Not here. Not on Araxes. She turned to look down from the side of the &lt;i&gt;Seph's&lt;/i&gt; hull where she was strapped into a harness.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"&lt;a href="http://persephoneone.blogspot.com/2011/08/family-ties.html"&gt;Gulgus. Gulgus Machydon&lt;/a&gt;", Seren strained to look cheerful as she lifted up her visor, "What brings you here?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I'd have been here sooner if it wasn't for this blasted blockade.", he grinned showing a fleet of yellowing teeth within his large jaws, "Have you got my power converters fitted yet, eh?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Seren's brow wrinkled as she abseiled down the hull to the floor. "Your power converters?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Aye. You bought them off me just last week. Not you yourself, not in person mind. A excitable blonde and a very pompous woman. I wasn't sure how you were going to get them past the blockade but I knew you would. Aye, I knew you would. After all, you're versatile in so many ways..."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He eyed her up and down, letting his wandering eyes linger. Unstrapping herself from the harness, she glared angrily at the floor, nodding her head and pursing her lips. She realised what had happened. Why Galewind and Salome had been able to locate the parts so quickly and cheaply. If there was one thing worse than being in financial debt to Gulgus Machydon, it was owing him a personal debt. She knew the comment about versatility was meant exactly as he'd delivered it. Sick, slimey, leering.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She looked up as she undid the final buckle,"So, how'd you find me?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I was told you had offices up at the station", he looked up at the stars briefly, "Very unfortunate what's happened to you. Very unfortunate indeed and given your situation....", he walked slowly looking around, "...you'd want safe harbour. Where safer than the capital city itself? Here you can sleep and eat. Out in the desert...", he paused, slowly delivering his words, "that's another story.'"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Seems like a lot of effort to find me, Gulgus."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;"Oh indeed, indeed", Gulgus's good eye seem to twinkle, "Good happenstance and good business are always good bedfellows especially in my line of work. It appears I arrived not a moment too soon either, know what I mean?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"No, not really. What do you want?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Gulgus's brow became furrowed and he stuck his nose into the air taking on a serious, more regal demeanour. Seren had seen this before. Gulgus had a unique way of being sleazy and regal at the same time. "Times are changing in the &lt;a href="http://persephone.wikia.com/wiki/Concordium_of_Allied_Planets" target="_blank"&gt;New Paradigm&lt;/a&gt;, my dear. Relationships between the Fortuna Collective and the Promise of Securitas Faction grow stronger with each passing day as old differences are put aside to make way for our glorious new future." He turned to face Seren directly. "But some things aren't so easily forgotten.... "&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"&lt;a href="http://persephoneone.blogspot.com/2011/08/family-ties.html"&gt;Grinch&lt;/a&gt;." Seren said it coldly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-zNHfHmLLrqE/TrbkwiwrS9I/AAAAAAAAAHY/7rcS6X_lxAA/s1600/workseph_002.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-zNHfHmLLrqE/TrbkwiwrS9I/AAAAAAAAAHY/7rcS6X_lxAA/s320/workseph_002.png" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Gulgus nodded before continuing "There are voices, important voices, within the Promise calling for his killer to be brought to justice...as a sign of mutual respect and understanding."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Seren turned on her heel and stared grimly into the setting Araxes suns. "You still haven't told me what you want."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"There are ways and means of keeping you out of the Collective's clutches, young Undercroft.", Gulgus walked behind her and placed a large greasy hand on her shoulder, "We'll &amp;nbsp;come to a mutual arrangement that suits us both, yes?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"What makes you think I need your help?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Seren could hear Gulgus's smile in this voice, "You know you do. Without me, everything you've achieved will be for nothing. You, rotting away in a Collective prison cell. No, no....we can't have that. Besides, the wheels are already in motion.....", he moved his head next to Seren's ear, standing uncomfortably close behind, "I'll be in touch."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hearing his heavy set footsteps walking away, Seren's calmness cracked, her trembling hand nervously ferreting across her face, her eyes narrowing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All in all, things were not going well.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4835544831229065493-9026417692472223469?l=persephoneone.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://persephoneone.blogspot.com/feeds/9026417692472223469/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://persephoneone.blogspot.com/2011/11/upheaval.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4835544831229065493/posts/default/9026417692472223469'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4835544831229065493/posts/default/9026417692472223469'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://persephoneone.blogspot.com/2011/11/upheaval.html' title='Upheaval'/><author><name>Seren</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02879912288228062152</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='19' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_uxGPcFI0o9Y/TG25XvXgllI/AAAAAAAAACI/dBanb3N5aV8/S220/nudearty_001.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-tCAYeFuQrFA/TrbiGCjguGI/AAAAAAAAAHQ/T392JyZh0co/s72-c/workingonptc_001.png' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4835544831229065493.post-5964539824544239435</id><published>2011-10-19T16:48:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2012-01-22T08:33:35.361-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='log'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='araxes'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='CFTA'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='STFU'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='blockade'/><title type='text'>[Log] Alliances</title><content type='html'>"Alliances.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They can be small things, that glint in the eye in a given situation. An understanding that lasts for seconds but has profound consequences.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They can be vast things, spanning hundreds of worlds and thousands of light years and bringing peace and happiness or war and suffering.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They can be strong. They can be fragile. Strengthened by trust or broken by betrayal.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At this point, I don't know what sort of alliances I have. I just know that I have them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;With Elena Galewind&lt;/i&gt;. She's stood with me for the past twenty years. A constant companion, loyal to the end.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;With Salome.&lt;/i&gt; I'm still not sure where I stand with her. She's a hell of an engineer but she's a mystery. She has her own agenda, her own demons, her own path. I'm a stepping stone on a larger journey for her. I don't know if I can trust her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;With the STFU. &lt;/i&gt;The Serenity Trade and Freight Union&lt;i&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/i&gt;is making its presence felt on Araxes now how the Guild perceive their presence is yet to be seen. They come with tales of friendship, of future wealth and prosperity. They've already worked out deals with the locals I've struggled to broker myself. There was no option but to partner with them in this new era of free trade and enterprise. The blockade here on Araxes has almost broken &lt;i&gt;Persephone Trading&lt;/i&gt;. Given the choice of sinking or swimming, I'm choosing to swim but I've no doubt something lies beneath the waves.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've survived worse things of course. The death of my mother. The genocide on Icarus Five. The savage beatings and rape of slavery on Grinch's ship. I've even survived the plague of Araxes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I keep on ticking. Forging ahead with a smile and an endless supply of one liners. &amp;nbsp;It's all a lie. There are no alliances. There's just me and whoever happens to be around at the time. I will do anything to keep this company afloat. Anything. Grinch found that out the hard way when I discovered what he'd done. "&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;*******&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Seren sat at the log station, transfixed with a melancholic stare, her own blank image staring, strong and unbreakable like the hum of the station engines. Lights flickered hypnotically across the terminal.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Mistress? Are you around?". Elena Galewind's voice came clearly over the intercom.&lt;br /&gt;"I'm here, Elena", Seren spoke wearily, "What's up?"&lt;br /&gt;"Salome requires authorisation for the purchase of two new power converters for the Persephone. Should I authorise?"&lt;br /&gt;Seren allowed a small smile to play across her face. "She managed to find some then, eh? &amp;nbsp;How much?"&lt;br /&gt;"Around 1500 credits for the pair. A rather good price. I suspect we will not find a more cost effective solution."&lt;br /&gt;"They're stolen."&lt;br /&gt;"It has never stopped us before, mistress"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Seren rubbed her hand across her face, leaning her elbow on the desktop in front of her. "Authorise the payment. And get back to the Araxes system as soon as you can. An STFU ship should meet you on the outer rim of the system. Hand them the converters, they'll bring them in to me"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"As you wish mistress. Galewind out."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Alliances", muttered Seren alone, "Occasionally useful."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4835544831229065493-5964539824544239435?l=persephoneone.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://persephoneone.blogspot.com/feeds/5964539824544239435/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://persephoneone.blogspot.com/2011/10/log-alliances.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4835544831229065493/posts/default/5964539824544239435'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4835544831229065493/posts/default/5964539824544239435'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://persephoneone.blogspot.com/2011/10/log-alliances.html' title='[Log] Alliances'/><author><name>Seren</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02879912288228062152</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='19' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_uxGPcFI0o9Y/TG25XvXgllI/AAAAAAAAACI/dBanb3N5aV8/S220/nudearty_001.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4835544831229065493.post-337166469536295119</id><published>2011-10-04T18:34:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2012-01-28T16:40:31.001-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Marooned on Araxes</title><content type='html'>Seren sat at the communciations terminal in the Araxes High Port offices of the Persephone Trading Corporation and frowned. Leaning back into her seat, she monitored the communications coming from the planet's surface. The whole planet was now under quarantine. The virus that had already claimed the lives of so many on the surface had now recorded its first official victims on a frieghter several parsecs away. The Admirality of the United Systems Directorate had locked down the planet "for everyone's safety" and positioned five warships in orbital positions. No-one was questioning them. A brief conversation with the USD officer Darkwolf had put any aspirations of leaving the planet firmly on the back burner. Oh, how she'd pleaded her point. Explained how her shipments of Spice Coffee were due to reach the Inner Worlds, how her business contacts were expecting her to complete important negotiations back in the New Paradigm. It had come to nothing. Only medical ships and officers were allowed to leave the system.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;While she found herself marooned, the rival Vulture company which dealt with medical supplies was free to come and go as they&amp;nbsp;pleased. She wondered if that was what Darkwolf had meant when he said "some people were making money out of it". Seren knew what she'd have done. Shoved her boxes of Spice Coffee underneath the boxes of used medical supplies and smuggled the goods out.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;"Miss?", the voice came from the freshly hired receptionist, Terena, "I've finished the last of the transport dockets.Can I head back planetside now?"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;"You may as well" said Seren hoarsely, "There's nothing going on up here. The shuttle is still running. If you can't get back up tomorrow, don't worry about it"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The receptionist nodded and collected her things from the desk. "How about you Miss?"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Seren swivelled the chair around to face the receptionist, letting her arms drop limply at her side. "I'm waiting for a transmission from the Folly.", she sighed, "Then I'll probably have an early night. Too many sick people down there..."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;She paused noticing the expression on the receptionist's face. A poorly hid look of fear. "...But I'm sure everything will work out. You've got your coveralls and facemask with you, yes?"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Terena nodded, emphasising the bagpack she carried. "I'll see you tomorrow then, Miss."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Seren smiled and waved weakly, swivelling back to the computer terminal which was being bombarded with images of sick people, administrators, soldiers and safety advice. Disasters on a planet wide scale seemed to be more prevalent than ever. It wasn't so long ago that Hale's Moon had imploded into a million pieces of rock. Talmont was out of bounds for reasons so far unexplained and now Araxes risked falling over the edge of destruction.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;A light flickered in the bottom right of the screen. Incoming Message. The panopticon of disaster slid out of view and was replaced with the familiar &amp;nbsp;face of Galewind sat at the work terminal of the Folly.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;"Salutations Mistress! I have news!"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;"You got me a permit to get off this rock?" said Seren, hopefully.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;"Um, no mistress. I have word of your father. It appears he was last seen hitching a ride on a freighter destined for Botany Bay..."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Puzzled, Seren exclaimed "Botany Bay? Hitched a ride? Oh, this just gets better and better."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;"Mistress?"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;"I'm stuck here on Araxes and he's off galavanting around the galaxy."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;"Indeed. We shall carry on bravely without you mistress. I am currently piloting the Folly to Botany Bay to rendezvous with your father."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Elena Galewind looked away, was momentarily distracted, her fingers dancing over the terminal buttons. "I have to go mistress. Approaching the Lagrange Point space station - they will be wanting to do an inspection. Farewell!"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The screen darkened and then reset to the live disaster footage. More sick people, more guns, more administrators mouthing weasely words of comfort.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;"You still haven't told me what happened at the Laandsrat", she said wistfully to the screen where Galewind has been, before swivelling in her chair in nonchalant boredom.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4835544831229065493-337166469536295119?l=persephoneone.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://persephoneone.blogspot.com/feeds/337166469536295119/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://persephoneone.blogspot.com/2011/10/marooned-on-araxes.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4835544831229065493/posts/default/337166469536295119'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4835544831229065493/posts/default/337166469536295119'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://persephoneone.blogspot.com/2011/10/marooned-on-araxes.html' title='Marooned on Araxes'/><author><name>Seren</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02879912288228062152</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='19' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_uxGPcFI0o9Y/TG25XvXgllI/AAAAAAAAACI/dBanb3N5aV8/S220/nudearty_001.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4835544831229065493.post-1785307338096248728</id><published>2011-09-16T17:22:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2012-01-22T08:38:19.440-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='pirates'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='araxes'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='beit dawla'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Seren'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='erinyes'/><title type='text'>[Log] No good deed goes unpunished</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-J_wIP4phnrY/TnPmPl6SYoI/AAAAAAAAAFs/r7HhAaa3vko/s1600/logaraxes_002.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="211" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-J_wIP4phnrY/TnPmPl6SYoI/AAAAAAAAAFs/r7HhAaa3vko/s320/logaraxes_002.png" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;There's a saying that no good deed goes unrewarded. Well I can say I'm still waiting for my reward. All I have so far is broken bones, a face that looks like I went five rounds with Buffalo-Yak and thousands of credits worth of damage to the &lt;a href="http://persephone.wikia.com/wiki/The_Erinyes"&gt;Erinyes&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'd just entered the sublight transit route to the NPC when the &lt;i&gt;Erinyes&lt;/i&gt; was attacked by marauders, pirates, scoundrels - whatever you want to call them. Unluckily for them, I was cargo free. Unluckily for me, that made them mad and I ended up laying in a pool of my own blood on the cargo bay floor. They damaged most of the systems onboard including life support which wasn't recycling enough oxygen for me to regain conciousness. Still, I suppose I should consider myself fortunate that all they did was beat me to a pulp. I was still wearing my clothes when I was discovered by a passing freighter.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-dYmdGiD_mMY/TkgdTjfEMGI/AAAAAAAAAFM/LGncP8FfHqE/s1600/DragoneggFX1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="217" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-dYmdGiD_mMY/TkgdTjfEMGI/AAAAAAAAAFM/LGncP8FfHqE/s320/DragoneggFX1.jpg" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My internal organs are still recovering. The medic says it will take a few weeks for them to fully regenerate so I'm bandaged up and resting until further notice. Business doesn't take a break however and much to the frustrations of father, Galewind and I headed back here to Araxes for the Beit Dawla ceremony.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hopes that someone with a business inclination might have been elected were soon dashed. It turned out that the Magistrate has used her powers to put forward a senior "Leader of the House" , you might say.&amp;nbsp;She didn't make it to the ceremony but I saw holo-pics. I think I met her by chance in the Water's End - which incidentally doesn't exist anymore having being replaced by some sordid looking joint - but anyway I disgress. As for the Magistrate - she's cunning that one, she can keep a careful eye on what they're up to and, well far be it from me to say she might influence them from afar but....you know politicians. Especially politicians who are used to running the whole planet and suddenly find themselves having to associate with the commoners. .&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Ceremony was full of the great and good. The Magistrate, the Companions, the Reverend Mother plus a few others I'd never seen before. The strange child for example. She didn't seem to say much. Come to think of it, I don't think I heard her speak the whole evening. She kept tugging at the Reverend Mother's skirt. Don't know what all that was about. I didn't think she had a child. And if it's not hers.....well, we all like a bit of gossip and scandal don't we?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Some odd looking blue chap was also there. Looked like his head was made up of two pieces moulded together - he had a ridge going right down the middle of his face. I asked him where he was from and it was some strange sounding name I didn't recognise. I think he's one of the Federationalists but I'm not sure. He's got an office up on the High Port station - he's in the trading game much like myself. Could be an opportunity for making some credits but then do I really want to associate with someone from the Federation? It's never turned out good for me before.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jade Moonkill, the electorate's favourite seemed a little flustered and lost. She also turned up late. So that bodes well for all concerned...right?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The semi-robotic scientist chap was there. Senet Blackburn. "Tomorrow's Future, Today!" was his campaign strategy and we'll have to see if he lives up to his promise. The Myrmidon are now represented in both Houses of the Araxes government with Skymet winning her seat. Lord Oteyem, of House Morloch also gained a seat giving them another powerful voice in government. We'll see how it goes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh, since I'm back and people decided to start renting office space in my absence, I'm setting the High Port office up the way I like it. I'm always amazed how someone with such a amazing mental capacity can be so deeply lacking in style! Which reminds me....I need to locate some purple hair dye.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Seren out.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4835544831229065493-1785307338096248728?l=persephoneone.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://persephoneone.blogspot.com/feeds/1785307338096248728/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://persephoneone.blogspot.com/2011/09/log-no-good-deed-goes-unpunished.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4835544831229065493/posts/default/1785307338096248728'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4835544831229065493/posts/default/1785307338096248728'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://persephoneone.blogspot.com/2011/09/log-no-good-deed-goes-unpunished.html' title='[Log] No good deed goes unpunished'/><author><name>Seren</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02879912288228062152</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='19' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_uxGPcFI0o9Y/TG25XvXgllI/AAAAAAAAACI/dBanb3N5aV8/S220/nudearty_001.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-J_wIP4phnrY/TnPmPl6SYoI/AAAAAAAAAFs/r7HhAaa3vko/s72-c/logaraxes_002.png' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4835544831229065493.post-4176100943214254941</id><published>2011-08-28T16:24:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2012-01-22T08:38:57.710-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Icarus'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Hale&apos;s Moon'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='5'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='erinyes'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Five'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Dragons Egg'/><title type='text'>[Log] Transmission from Erinyes One</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-twsDrOZJgEc/TlrNGH3oNWI/AAAAAAAAAFk/wJRENTpA-64/s1600/log3.gif" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="206" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-twsDrOZJgEc/TlrNGH3oNWI/AAAAAAAAAFk/wJRENTpA-64/s320/log3.gif" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;[Log Recording OK.]&lt;br /&gt;[&lt;a href="http://persephone.wikia.com/wiki/Concordium_of_Allied_Planets"&gt;New Paradigm&lt;/a&gt; Dateline : 201108.14]&lt;br /&gt;[Received by PTC : 201108.28]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm on the way back from Dragons Egg. The refugees from &lt;a href="http://mayorseana.blogspot.com/"&gt;Hale's Moon&lt;/a&gt; are holed up in a space station orbiting high above the planet. I'm not sure what will be worse - the relative squalor of their shanty town existence on the space station or the frozen wasteland of the planet's surface. Even from space it looked a hostile place to start a new life. They're not letting anyone down there but search teams at the moment.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;From what I could tell, the majority of the refugees seem to be living in tents in a cargo hold aboard the station. They only have the basics, probably just grabbing what they could while they could. It's difficult to leave your life behind like that. It's unnerving to have everything you know ripped away.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-a0_Aei5opv0/Tlq3O8wQ3-I/AAAAAAAAAFg/Z3bP8u1ttYI/s1600/dragon%2527s+egg_003.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="217" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-a0_Aei5opv0/Tlq3O8wQ3-I/AAAAAAAAAFg/Z3bP8u1ttYI/s320/dragon%2527s+egg_003.png" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;The atmosphere on the station is a strange mixture of desperation and community spirit - the sort of atmosphere you get after a loved one dies. Everyone muddling along the best they can, everyone hurting and putting on a brave face. There's something admirable about that.The sheer courage they're showing in the face of all this adversity. And you know, when I look into some of these kids eyes, this whole facade I've built around myself of being the hard nosed trader really just falls away. I just wanted to hold them and tell them that everything will be okay. Things will get better. But it's not really true because the trauma always stays with you even if you bury it so deeply you think you've escaped it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;She adjusts herself, regaining her composure.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway...I offered my cargo and they seemed please to take it off my hands. I don't know what they'll do with it. Sell it most likely. Doesn't really matter.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;A large bang is heard, rocking the ship and causing the lights to flicker.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Not sure what that was....but it looks like it's damaged the ship. The engines are failing. The central computer here is going a little crazy. I'm not sure if this is still transmitting. Should be. Okay...I'll try and fix it. If not I'll launch the beacon.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[End Transmission]&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4835544831229065493-4176100943214254941?l=persephoneone.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://persephoneone.blogspot.com/feeds/4176100943214254941/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://persephoneone.blogspot.com/2011/08/log-transmission-from-erinyes-one.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4835544831229065493/posts/default/4176100943214254941'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4835544831229065493/posts/default/4176100943214254941'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://persephoneone.blogspot.com/2011/08/log-transmission-from-erinyes-one.html' title='[Log] Transmission from Erinyes One'/><author><name>Seren</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02879912288228062152</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='19' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_uxGPcFI0o9Y/TG25XvXgllI/AAAAAAAAACI/dBanb3N5aV8/S220/nudearty_001.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-twsDrOZJgEc/TlrNGH3oNWI/AAAAAAAAAFk/wJRENTpA-64/s72-c/log3.gif' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4835544831229065493.post-4171857221952893247</id><published>2011-08-14T14:09:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2012-01-22T08:39:42.557-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='log'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='hales moon'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='firefly'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='araxes'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='galewind'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='erinyes'/><title type='text'>[Galewind's Log] Keeping a steady ship.</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;I have not heard from the Captain for a considerable amount of time. An encoded communication transmitted from the&lt;i&gt; Erinyes &lt;/i&gt;to the &lt;i&gt;Persephone&lt;/i&gt; is the last known transmission. Our understanding is that she has travelled to the 32 Tauri system to render assistance to the former Hale's Moon colonists. This is entirely in keeping with the mistress's character in a variety of ways. Firstly, I have been by the mistress's side for nearly twenty years and I have witnessed the mistress's compassion on several occasions. I have also witnessed her haste in arriving to decisions and acting irrationally. I believe she has done so on this occasion. According to communications received, the Laandsrat of Araxes were considering implementing a rescue package. Miss Seren would have been wise to await the fleet's departure and accompany them on their mission. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5640831933515708002" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-pDmDR98NlMc/TkhCwdLiNmI/AAAAAAAAAAg/5i46c-H601A/s320/ptchighportbase_003.png" style="cursor: hand; cursor: pointer; float: right; height: 218px; margin: 0 0 10px 10px; width: 320px;" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;If I know the Captain, it is likely she would have cast doubt on the Araxian government's&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;commit&lt;/span&gt;ment to help the beleagured planet and thus, she has set course without knowing where the colonists have departed to. Not the most logical or thought out of decisions.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have been monitoring communications and attempting to track the&amp;nbsp;&lt;i&gt;Erinyes&lt;/i&gt;&amp;nbsp;navigational beacon using various public sensor arrays littered across the quadrant. Attempts to access private arrays powered by the Imperium, UFS and the Alliance have proven to be difficult. Alliance systems in particular, although allegedly quite primitive in comparison to other governmental systems have proven hardy in their ability to frustrate me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;Primarily I was under orders to fly the &lt;i&gt;Persephone's Folly&lt;/i&gt; to Araxes and establish a base of operations for the Persephone Trading Corporation. To my knowledge, Miss Seren and Mr Ulysses have been considering a variety of options including a permanent headquarters in the new orbital zone above the Evangeline area of Araxes. With the Captain unavailable to make a final decision, I have, with permission from Mr Ulysses, taken the liberty of renting premises aboard the Al Raqis High Port Orbital Station. This should be adequate for our purpose. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 16px;"&gt;&lt;img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5640826333596735698" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-c7iefll9PwU/Tkg9qf2z2NI/AAAAAAAAAAY/pdV9FOUKXvg/s320/ptchighportbase_001.png" style="cursor: pointer; float: left; height: 218px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 10px; margin-top: 0px; width: 320px;" /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 16px;"&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4835544831229065493-4171857221952893247?l=persephoneone.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://persephoneone.blogspot.com/feeds/4171857221952893247/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://persephoneone.blogspot.com/2011/08/galewinds-log-keeping-steady-ship.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4835544831229065493/posts/default/4171857221952893247'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4835544831229065493/posts/default/4171857221952893247'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://persephoneone.blogspot.com/2011/08/galewinds-log-keeping-steady-ship.html' title='[Galewind&apos;s Log] Keeping a steady ship.'/><author><name>Galewind</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17398920585911270152</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-pDmDR98NlMc/TkhCwdLiNmI/AAAAAAAAAAg/5i46c-H601A/s72-c/ptchighportbase_003.png' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4835544831229065493.post-4887254551238109673</id><published>2011-08-10T18:09:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2012-01-22T08:40:20.263-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='log'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='araxes'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='laandsrat'/><title type='text'>[Log] The Rise and Fall of the Antmen.</title><content type='html'>[Initialising Log. OK]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Things move fast these days. And I'm not just talking about the sand worms or the sudden disappearance of credits in the bar either. Galactic politics change quickly. Just a few weeks ago, the Myrmidon threat hung over the quadrant striking genuine fear into people. Now the threat appears to evaporated as far as I can tell.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;At the Laandsrat meeting there was general discussion about the impending threat of total Myrmidon domination.&amp;nbsp;The Magistrate reiterated that Araxes would remain neutral for as long as possible, the resources of the planet being "far too important for sane governments to risk destroying....it's the insane ones I worry about". At this point, there was considerable debate as to whether the Myrmids were in fact insane. They seemed to agree that they weren't, the Reverend Mother indicated that they were 'empassioned...vengeful, quick to anger' but that they stick to their code.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;All this time, the Myrmidon stood patiently, head to foot in metallic armour. When he finally did speak, he rather boldly said...hang on, let me check my notes.....that their "reasoning and jurisdiction goes beyond your&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;illogical interest in this spice", that it was a "small part in a far more involved picture" and basically told the magistrate to keep her nose out of their business.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I recall a sharp intake of breath from the various onlookers. I've never seen anyone challenge the Magistrate of Al Raqis in such a way. The Sovereign himself chooses this position and the Magistrate can indirectly wield huge power far beyond this planet. Heck, I've seen people on my world light years away hush at the mention of the woman's name.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;She held her calm and demanded to know what the Myrmidon's end game was. Was it the destruction of the Imperium? The Myrmidon said that could be avoided if the Soveriegn agreed to the accords laid out by the Myrmidons. I heard some gufawwing from someone at the back but the atmosphere seemed tense to me. The Myrmidons refused to comment further.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Now....we know that the Myrmidons have since withdrawn their threat against the Sovereign. They seem to imply that they did this voluntarily but I have a hunch that the Imperium made it quite clear that continued attacks upon them would result in full blown war. Now, that's just my gut feeling, &lt;i&gt;I'm not saying thats what happened&lt;/i&gt;. But something definitely seemed to give them the heebie-geebies.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Anyway, I need to get back to loading up some cargo in this tin-pot cargo ship. It's been a while since I flew the Erinyes. I wasn't sure the hyperdrive would even carry me this far out. &amp;nbsp;With Persephone One and the Folly both out of action for the moment, this junker will have to do. I'm stocking up with as much as I can and I'm heading for what used to be Hale's Moon shortly. They've had a nasty incident over there and they need all the help they can get.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Seren checking out.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;[Log Saved. Transmitting to Persephone One on secure channel]&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4835544831229065493-4887254551238109673?l=persephoneone.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://persephoneone.blogspot.com/feeds/4887254551238109673/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://persephoneone.blogspot.com/2011/08/log-rise-and-fall-of-antmen.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4835544831229065493/posts/default/4887254551238109673'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4835544831229065493/posts/default/4887254551238109673'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://persephoneone.blogspot.com/2011/08/log-rise-and-fall-of-antmen.html' title='[Log] The Rise and Fall of the Antmen.'/><author><name>Seren</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02879912288228062152</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='19' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_uxGPcFI0o9Y/TG25XvXgllI/AAAAAAAAACI/dBanb3N5aV8/S220/nudearty_001.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4835544831229065493.post-5445669681124089841</id><published>2011-08-06T15:33:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2012-01-22T08:41:56.231-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Family ties, part 2</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-b-37OYizTS8/Tj23sPq-u8I/AAAAAAAAAFA/HeiTIxduJJE/s1600/sereuly_002.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="204" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-b-37OYizTS8/Tj23sPq-u8I/AAAAAAAAAFA/HeiTIxduJJE/s320/sereuly_002.png" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;"Hey, when did you get back?" Seren enquired, standing at the door to her father's workshop, a long factory-like structure with panelled windows the length of each wall and an odour of various mechanical oils and concotions.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Oh, not very long" said Ulyssees trying to hide he'd been asleep."I came in here to finish up some work on the new coolant and ended up picking up this book.". He stood up and smiled at his daughter. She'd aged since her last visit to the planet, not so much physically but something about the way she carried herself. A new toughness layered over older scars of hardship. It was unsurprising given the hard life they'd endured. That wasn't how Ulyssees had wanted to raise his daughter, hidden away on an obscure colony on a struggling planet mired in poverty, criminality and corruption.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He motioned for his daughter to join him on the sofa at the end of the workshop.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"You get more like your mother every time I see you."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I wish I remembered her enough to tell."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ulysses nodded and smiled, "She'd be proud of you. Getting the company back up and running. Seeking the old ship and getting it back. You're making a tidy amount judging my the amount of credits you're sending my way"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Seren leaned forward and clasped her hand "Not doing too badly. I'm getting lucrative one off contracts here and there. Some more interesting than others."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Interesting sounds like a way of saying illegal to me...."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She turned to her father smiling "I couldn't possibly say.."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Yes, well....be careful. I am the local Justice of the Peace don't forget."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Seren put her hands forward as if expecting cuffs and her father shook his head half repressing his smile.&lt;br /&gt;He sat up forwards and paused for a few moments before speaking "I've been channeling my share of the company's proceeds to a few different things. Hiring a few hands around the farm, repairing the hoverwagons, that sort of thing. Anyway....I play the occasional game of Kah-tiki and well, wouldn't you know I happen to have won a few games."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-lasiI3Fto3g/Tj23ujup52I/AAAAAAAAAFE/Q8GAJ-Nlx-I/s1600/sereuly_003.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="204" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-lasiI3Fto3g/Tj23ujup52I/AAAAAAAAAFE/Q8GAJ-Nlx-I/s320/sereuly_003.png" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;"For money?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Yes, for money and various other things. Turning the occasional blind eye to more minor infractions of the law for example &amp;nbsp;But in this instance, I happen to have won a new boat."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"A new boat? What sort of boat?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"It's old, needs some work but it's a classic design. &amp;nbsp;I've got it parked at the Kerner City land dock. I'll take you down tomorrow and we can have a good look if you'd like?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*****************************************&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-S478evgAniQ/Tj23pp4e9CI/AAAAAAAAAE8/UFF0SdTuYKk/s1600/p2origin_001.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="210" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-S478evgAniQ/Tj23pp4e9CI/AAAAAAAAAE8/UFF0SdTuYKk/s320/p2origin_001.jpg" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;"There she is!" pointed out Ulysses, the overcast dampness doing nothing to disrupt his enthusiasm.&lt;br /&gt;"I called her Persephone's Folly - Gulgus thinks I'm a bit senile wanting to take her off his hands."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Seren looked the ship over from afar. "You got this from Gulgus? Are you sure it's not stolen?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Now, now Seren. Give me some credit. As it is, the ship doesn't cover the debt he owes me but refitted and working it'll repay me many times over. I've got some engineers working on it now. Come on."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He jogged excitedly to the ship. Keeping pace with him, Seren noticed how ships seemed to inject youthfulness into her father. He'd been the same when she brought the Persephone One home. Tinkering with every little circuit, his fingers dancing over the panels, his mind entirely focused on getting the vessel ship shape. He'd been born for it, of that there was no doubt. They reached the landing ramp and climbed up into the innards of the ship.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"This here", Ulysses exclaimed excitedly, "is a dual entry port. The ramp extends when you're planetside, the airlock opens when you're docking with a space station. Score one to the Folly because Persephone One can't do that."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"And this here, is your cargo bay. Lots of room for anything you're carrying, your hovercycle, even a buffalo-yak. All at the same time, no need to keep swapping and changing at the PTC station"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"It's very nice" Seren eyeballed the dimensions of the ship, "has potential"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Come on in here. General operations - over there is the navigational computer and analytical systems, over there is a work table and look here. You know what those are? Beds. I spoke to Elena, she said you were sleeping on boxes. Boxes? &amp;nbsp;All that buying and selling and it never occured to you to get a bed. Really?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-roXyeNlYNgo/Tj29L4L1gmI/AAAAAAAAAFI/42wvT0dMXH0/s1600/p2origin_003.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="210" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-roXyeNlYNgo/Tj29L4L1gmI/AAAAAAAAAFI/42wvT0dMXH0/s320/p2origin_003.jpg" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;Ulysses bounded into the cockpit "Oh, this brings back happy memories. Flying the space routes, avoiding pirates and other rogues making sure the delivery got there on time.Those were great times. Great times indeed."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There was a forlornness to his speech, an aching to revisit the past.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"The ships yours if you want her, Seren. You carry on making me and your mother proud."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Seren put her hand on her father's shoulder, sharing the view of Kerner City as it sprawled out beneath them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"It's your ship, dad..."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I brought her for you. I'm too old to make use of her. "&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I don't think so. You could teach people a few things I reckon.", she said cuddling close to her father.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4835544831229065493-5445669681124089841?l=persephoneone.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://persephoneone.blogspot.com/feeds/5445669681124089841/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://persephoneone.blogspot.com/2011/08/family-ties-part-2.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4835544831229065493/posts/default/5445669681124089841'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4835544831229065493/posts/default/5445669681124089841'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://persephoneone.blogspot.com/2011/08/family-ties-part-2.html' title='Family ties, part 2'/><author><name>Seren</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02879912288228062152</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='19' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_uxGPcFI0o9Y/TG25XvXgllI/AAAAAAAAACI/dBanb3N5aV8/S220/nudearty_001.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-b-37OYizTS8/Tj23sPq-u8I/AAAAAAAAAFA/HeiTIxduJJE/s72-c/sereuly_002.png' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4835544831229065493.post-9121984932464913648</id><published>2011-08-05T12:00:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2012-01-22T08:46:18.201-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Grinch'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Ulysses'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Kerner'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Folly'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Nena'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Gulgus'/><title type='text'>Family ties.</title><content type='html'>Kerner City, Planet of Nena.&lt;br /&gt;City Population 78,984&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"You're sure you want it?", the rotund, greasy haired and obviously perspiring man enquired, addressing a senior, greying but still impressively built man in brown slacks with red suspenders over a white shirt. The two men were hunched over a small table in a busy, neon lit bar.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Of course I want it. It's mine"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The greasy figure smiled, revealing several missing teeth."I feel like I'm robbing you Undercroft. She's a wreck, c'mon let me play you again."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-HbCkVW9vBcA/TrHpU_0oN0I/AAAAAAAAAHI/-08_R1QUYEk/s1600/gulgusuly_002.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-HbCkVW9vBcA/TrHpU_0oN0I/AAAAAAAAAHI/-08_R1QUYEk/s320/gulgusuly_002.jpg" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;"You seem awful keen to keep her, if you don't mind me saying. To me, that says I'm onto a good thing. Besides, I have the skill to repair her. I used to do it all the time." He sipped from his drink, a orange concoction with a slightly red head to it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Thirty years ago! The Concordium was a different place then my friend. Parts were plenty, the capital was copious and the ladies were lusty!" He laughed with a snort. "Talking of ladies, I hear your daughter is back onworld?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Gulgus", he pointed a finger, "Don't even think about it."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Gulgus Machydon, the greasy ball of flesh that resembled a man, laughed heartily. "Ulysses, I am many things my friend. I may be a loan shark and a businessman of ill repute but I know where the line is drawn. Your daughter is entirely safe. Say hello to me for her. I haven't seen her since Magnolius Grinch ended up with a knife in the back!". He stared at his friend letting a wicked smile contort his face before gulping his beverage down and struggling to his feet. "The ship is yours. You enjoy her, yes?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I will. Thanks Gulgus. Stay out of trouble."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Gulgus nodded, resting a hand on Ulysses shoulder before leaving. Undercroft took another sip from his drink and looked down at the document in front of him that transferred ownership. He rummaged in his trousers for a pen, flicked it on and scribed the ship's new name down. '"Persephone's Folly", he muttered with a smile, "Welcome to the family."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4835544831229065493-9121984932464913648?l=persephoneone.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://persephoneone.blogspot.com/feeds/9121984932464913648/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://persephoneone.blogspot.com/2011/08/family-ties.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4835544831229065493/posts/default/9121984932464913648'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4835544831229065493/posts/default/9121984932464913648'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://persephoneone.blogspot.com/2011/08/family-ties.html' title='Family ties.'/><author><name>Seren</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02879912288228062152</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='19' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_uxGPcFI0o9Y/TG25XvXgllI/AAAAAAAAACI/dBanb3N5aV8/S220/nudearty_001.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-HbCkVW9vBcA/TrHpU_0oN0I/AAAAAAAAAHI/-08_R1QUYEk/s72-c/gulgusuly_002.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4835544831229065493.post-2640466103085805286</id><published>2011-07-14T11:39:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2012-01-18T17:11:12.959-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='STC'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='novara norstrom'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='deep desert'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='al raqis'/><title type='text'>[Log] The Narstrom Incident.</title><content type='html'>I attended the third day of the inquiry into Novara Narstrom yesterday. I hope she gets off.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I think the charges against Novara are spurious at best. An abandoned ship, no distress signal, no life signs for hundreds of miles. Any scavenger would have a case for believing the ship was abandoned. Nothing can survive for long out there in the desert. Well, that's not strictly true because there's one thing that can - the sandworms. Now come on, between the impact of the crash, the hostile environment and the man-eating sandworms the likelihood that there would be any survivors is tiny. And let us not forget a very key word in what I just said : &lt;b&gt;abandoned&lt;/b&gt;. If a ship is abandoned, it's open for scavenging. That's always been the way I've known things. And if the ship wasn't abandoned, there's no way she could have known about it. After all, let's not forget that she sent out a message on the public channel - why did the pilot or the STC not immediately respond? No, the more I think about it the more &lt;i&gt;I think it was a set up.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've known Sisko for a while, but I never thought he was capable of this.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&amp;nbsp;I witnessed some of the events that led to the trial and left her space station just hours before it was destroyed. As I recall the sequence of events, Novara sent out a message on the Al Raqis public channel that there was an abandoned ship deep in the desert and asked for help salvaging what was left. I arrived shortly afterwards and was subsequently joined by several others all of whom witnessed the very same thing. An STC shuttle craft firing phaser streams at Novara's ship. She was lucky to get her shield up in time otherwise we'd be talking about a fatality. After several minutes of sustained phaser fire, we heard a huge thunderous roar and looking up we saw one of the STC's starships had entered the atmosphere and was now firing round after round of photon torpedoes at the shield. Shortly afterwards her defence barrier collapsed but not before Novara was able to power up her engines and subsequently she escaped to the supposed safety of her space station.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-2Nh4golOlR8/Th8zp3FQLgI/AAAAAAAAAE4/w4Dd9BW-we8/s1600/deepdesertincident.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="185" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-2Nh4golOlR8/Th8zp3FQLgI/AAAAAAAAAE4/w4Dd9BW-we8/s640/deepdesertincident.jpg" width="640" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;As it was, I had business of my own at her station and when we entered standard orbit we were greeted with the STC ship lingering menacingly outside of the station shields. Having the shield code frequency, we were able to successfully dock with the station. As we unpacked the goods into the landing bay, I noticed Novara talking to a Myrmidon. Thinking nothing of it, I left the same way we'd arrived and we only later found out that Novara's station had been destroyed when its shields failed, fell planetside and burned up in the atmosphere.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;If anything, I'd say that the STC should be facing a count of attempted murder and possibly terrorism charges. I suspect they won't. They have a knack of getting themselves out of trouble. Meanwhile an innocent trader much like myself faces the wrath of the Al Raqis legal system. It's a crying shame.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Log Update - I recall Novara mentioning on the public channel that she'd seen STC officers on board her station shortly before planetfall. More fuel for the fire.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4835544831229065493-2640466103085805286?l=persephoneone.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://persephoneone.blogspot.com/feeds/2640466103085805286/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://persephoneone.blogspot.com/2011/07/deep-desert-incident.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4835544831229065493/posts/default/2640466103085805286'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4835544831229065493/posts/default/2640466103085805286'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://persephoneone.blogspot.com/2011/07/deep-desert-incident.html' title='[Log] The Narstrom Incident.'/><author><name>Seren</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02879912288228062152</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='19' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_uxGPcFI0o9Y/TG25XvXgllI/AAAAAAAAACI/dBanb3N5aV8/S220/nudearty_001.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-2Nh4golOlR8/Th8zp3FQLgI/AAAAAAAAAE4/w4Dd9BW-we8/s72-c/deepdesertincident.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4835544831229065493.post-5650839414670668395</id><published>2011-07-01T15:21:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2012-01-22T15:29:57.432-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='RETCON'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='original Galewind'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='deleted'/><title type='text'>Droid misbehavin' (Apocryphal)</title><content type='html'>[&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="color: red;"&gt;IMPORTANT : &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="background-color: yellow;"&gt;This post refers to a pre-retconned version of the Elena Galewind character and no longer forms part of the "canon" of Persephone One. However it does reference an important event - raising the funds from the Orchids to secure funding for a Spice trading licence.]&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Oh, I know there's a good reason you're wearing my clothes"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The captain stood exasperated at the top of the ramp leading to the Persephone's hull with her hands on her hips. Elena stood at the bottom, her eyes looking somewhat surprised as she looked up towards the Captain."And where did you get that hairpiece? Orange I mean really."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-StpZ14dkuCg/ThEBf2WTlgI/AAAAAAAAAEQ/HhanJdbwILc/s1600/blogpic1_001.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="188" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-StpZ14dkuCg/ThEBf2WTlgI/AAAAAAAAAEQ/HhanJdbwILc/s320/blogpic1_001.jpg" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was true. Underneath the khaki Stetson was a orange bob of hair that would have done a wonderful job of masking the cyborg's visible parts had there not been two sensor arrays and radio antennae projecting outwards. Adorning the droid's person, Seren had recognised her long brown jacket and matching trousers and....no, she didn't recognise the boots.&lt;br /&gt;"I was merely attempting to acquiesce to the social norms of the planet. Some organic lifeforms find artificial life distressing. Your instructions were to "fit in" more, were they not?"&lt;br /&gt;"Yes, but my clothes?" the Captain strode down the ramp shielding her eyes to the bright Araxian sunshine, "You still haven't explained the orange wig".&lt;br /&gt;The cyborg raised her holographically generated eyebrows. "The hair weaving was located in your wardrobe mistress?"&lt;br /&gt;The Captain looked uneasy, ruffling her purple hair "I don't know what you mean. I'm sure I never had hair like that. Ahem, anyway, where have you been?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"My sojourn took me to the area known locally as the Water's End. Upon my visitation, I encountered a male of youthful years. Attempting to test the new aesthetic, I engaged in meaningful conversation introducing several of the planet's customs, factions and geographically important installations. To my surprise, he was unaware of my cybernetic origin for much of the conversation."&lt;br /&gt;The captain looked surprised "What, even with the pointy out bits?"&lt;br /&gt;"If you are referring to my sensor array, yes. I presume he believed they were a removable attachment."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-MVHezzyqnpo/ThEBfdhUMlI/AAAAAAAAAEM/7qA-LTkgt-8/s1600/blogpic1_002.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="188" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-MVHezzyqnpo/ThEBfdhUMlI/AAAAAAAAAEM/7qA-LTkgt-8/s320/blogpic1_002.jpg" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;"Not very smart then?"&lt;br /&gt;"Captain, I believe you are jumping to conclusions. The individual showed above average levels of intelligence. Indeed, I believe he is a pilot and swordman of some skill."&lt;br /&gt;At this point, the cyborg realised that the Captain had been deep in concentration reading a cargo manifest and in all likelyhood missed the cyborg's rebuttal."Would it be out of place to ask what activities you have involved yourself in, mistress?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Without looking away from the datapad, the captain muttered "Getting us out of a very difficult situation. You know, for a while I was one of the Orchids."&lt;br /&gt;"Orchids - the privateer organisation. They do not seem to fit your activities mistress"&lt;br /&gt;The Captain looked up and signalled a "heavy drinking" movement with her hand.&lt;br /&gt;"That explains a lot mistress. You should drink less, your faculties would not be so often impaired"&lt;br /&gt;The Captain chuckled a little. "If I didn't know better, I'd think you were being a tad cheeky there. But in all truth, you have been acting a little oddly lately", She walked back up the ramp checking the crates off the manifest "I should probably clean your servo systems out, it's not smart having your head open like that...mmm, maybe that orange wig will keep the sand out eh?"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4835544831229065493-5650839414670668395?l=persephoneone.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://persephoneone.blogspot.com/feeds/5650839414670668395/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://persephoneone.blogspot.com/2011/07/droid-misbehavin_01.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4835544831229065493/posts/default/5650839414670668395'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4835544831229065493/posts/default/5650839414670668395'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://persephoneone.blogspot.com/2011/07/droid-misbehavin_01.html' title='Droid misbehavin&apos; (Apocryphal)'/><author><name>Seren</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02879912288228062152</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='19' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_uxGPcFI0o9Y/TG25XvXgllI/AAAAAAAAACI/dBanb3N5aV8/S220/nudearty_001.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-StpZ14dkuCg/ThEBf2WTlgI/AAAAAAAAAEQ/HhanJdbwILc/s72-c/blogpic1_001.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4835544831229065493.post-881579660299624314</id><published>2011-06-22T12:30:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-08-07T09:48:43.268-07:00</updated><title type='text'>[log] Bonanza!</title><content type='html'>[initialising log]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;901,600 credits&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;901,600 credits. 200,000 up front.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fair to say, it's been a good day. Of course, now the hard work starts. I have to secure what I've been asked to get. First part of the order was easy, food stuffs, 20 kilos of this, 6 kilos of that, easy stuff to ship in. I've run it through the stock manifests and we have most of it already. I've got Galewind and Bob loading up the Persephone now at our loading station and I've told Salome to secure the rest. That should be here within a matter of hours.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No, the difficult thing will be getting my hands on medical equipment. I asked Salome to price it up, she's the science boffin after all, I have no idea how much this stuff costs. Top of the range comes in at well beyond what I think they could pay so we settled on 900,000 for the lot. That should get them high quality equipment, after all, they don't need a hospital.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now with only 200,000 credits paid and 150,000 in reserve, that still leaves me short. I'm hoping to make a sizeable profit but it looks like I'll have to speculate to accumulate. I'm going to have to pull out all the stops to make this one work.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm not sure what the Orchid organisation actually does yet but I'm guessing I'll find out soon.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4835544831229065493-881579660299624314?l=persephoneone.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://persephoneone.blogspot.com/feeds/881579660299624314/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://persephoneone.blogspot.com/2011/06/log-bonanza.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4835544831229065493/posts/default/881579660299624314'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4835544831229065493/posts/default/881579660299624314'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://persephoneone.blogspot.com/2011/06/log-bonanza.html' title='[log] Bonanza!'/><author><name>Seren</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02879912288228062152</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='19' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_uxGPcFI0o9Y/TG25XvXgllI/AAAAAAAAACI/dBanb3N5aV8/S220/nudearty_001.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4835544831229065493.post-5535979057674791736</id><published>2011-06-14T15:52:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-08-07T09:48:28.490-07:00</updated><title type='text'>[log] Rum on the rocks with a sprinkling of Orion.</title><content type='html'>[Log Initialising OK]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There are times I wonder if I'm in over my head.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Take yesterday. On another visit to Araxes, I decided to take a cross world transport to the new colony in the south : Botany Bay. They have a great bar, really excellent alcohol and fantastic service. Okay, some might call it seedy, I have myself but the people there seem to be my kind of folks, you know?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyways, I settled down for the evening with a bottle of the finest rum and was well on my way to finishing the bottle when I was approached by an Orion male. I found out much later that it was Barbosa. Yeah, &lt;i&gt;&lt;b&gt;the&lt;/b&gt; &lt;/i&gt;Barbosa. Not being aware of this at the time and being the worse for wear with my favourite alcoholic beverage, we discussed my work and his work and it seems we had areas of work where we could be of service to each other. In exchange for spice, he wants to trade me some sort of new super drug he's developed. I tried it myself and I can vouch for the effects.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He wants me to dispose of my sample and meet him to exchange spice for this new "Neurotoxin Nebuliser". I can't sell it under that name so I'm calling it Dust until another name crops up for it. There's a lot of money to be made out of this "Dust", of that I'm sure. But you know...it's Barbosa...this guy has a reputation that strikes the fear of heck-knows into me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We'll see how it goes down. Maybe this is how I make my fortune? I can hope eh?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Seren out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[Log Terminated]&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4835544831229065493-5535979057674791736?l=persephoneone.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://persephoneone.blogspot.com/feeds/5535979057674791736/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://persephoneone.blogspot.com/2011/06/log-rum-on-rocks-with-sprinkling-of.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4835544831229065493/posts/default/5535979057674791736'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4835544831229065493/posts/default/5535979057674791736'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://persephoneone.blogspot.com/2011/06/log-rum-on-rocks-with-sprinkling-of.html' title='[log] Rum on the rocks with a sprinkling of Orion.'/><author><name>Seren</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02879912288228062152</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='19' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_uxGPcFI0o9Y/TG25XvXgllI/AAAAAAAAACI/dBanb3N5aV8/S220/nudearty_001.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4835544831229065493.post-4714005019321804266</id><published>2011-06-05T18:22:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2012-01-22T08:54:15.091-08:00</updated><title type='text'>An unexpected addition</title><content type='html'>Seren and Elena stood atop a dusty plain in a desolate mountainous canyon. The wind ruffled their clothes and the rain pecked at their bodies.This was Athens, the ninth planet of the Georgia system. A world reknowned for the level of marble mined in its quarries and the four terraformed moons that provided the majority of the populace. They were a beautiful sight to behold, visible during the day and night and even behind storm clouds the visible ones maintained an awe of majesty.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Are you sure this was where we're supposed to meet?" asked the captain, shielding her eyes from the wind.&lt;br /&gt;"If we are to believe our source, yes".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It had been an unexpected journey that had started with a unexpected departure from Araxes. The mysterious Orion stranger forewarning them of the Myrmidon invasion fleet, the rendezvous with an even more mysterious Browncoat in a sensor blind spot behind the Order's armada and the long journey to the Outer Rim of Alliance space - all of it leading to this point. In truth, Seren was at a loss to explain the events that had led her here but as always she believed the reason would eventually reveal itself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Captain, detecting movement a few clicks ahead"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Seren nodded and pulled her binoculars from her shoulder bag. She put them to her eyes and let the automatic sensors do the rest of the work.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I see. All terrain vehicle. One rider."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She motioned for the mentat to hide behind a large boulder and threw her a pistol that had been strapped to her leg. The standard &lt;i&gt;Persephone&lt;/i&gt; procedure for first contact with unknown persons.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The ATV roared up the rugged terrain throwing mud around as its tyres bit into the wet earth. Seren kept a close eye on it, wiping the lens as the rain came down even stronger. Eventually the vehicle found its way up the final hill and ground to a halt, the engine ticking over as the pilot dismounted. Dressed in a black figure hugging outfit, with a dark oblique helmet, it was now easy to tell that the figure was female.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"You can tell your companion to come from behind that rock. I mean you no harm", the voice was slightly muffled behind the helmet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Seren faked ignorance. "No-one here but me."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Really?", she laughed. "Who's that behind the boulder then? She accompanies you everywhere. C'mon Elena, out you come."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Seren could fake ignorance but she couldn't hide consternation.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Oh I know lots about you. More than you know yourself I suspect ". The stranger lifted off her helmet revealing a youthful tanned complexion and long blonde locks. "I'm Salome Chiantelle and I'm going to be your new first officer"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Seren raised an eyebrow and turned on her heel, pointing at the young woman. "That's a bit presumptious. I'm the Captain, aren't those decisions mine?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Oh very presumptious. I chose you for a reason Captain. I've read the Alliance files on you. It was very....enlightening."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Galewind appeared from behind the rock, her head tilted to one side, her eyes unusually deep and penetrating. Almost angry. The stranger noticed that. &amp;nbsp;Seren did not as she lifted a weapon from her backpack and approached the young woman.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"No-one but Alliance reads the files on their database. So you're either telling porkies or you're one of them."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I've no reason to lie to you Captain. If I were with the Alliance, I wouldn't be wasting my time talking to you. You'd be in cuffs and heading to the nearest rehabilitation centre. No, I need safe passage out of Alliance space and yes, you're right to think that &amp;nbsp;I could get that with any number of browncoat ships but I would really prefer to travel with you. I went to a lot of trouble to get you here. I can pay you a small amout upfront and I'll work the rest"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Okay.." Seren lowered the pistol, "Pandering to my ego works and since you're a paying customer with obvious connections, I'll fly you out. But if I get the feeling for one moment you're not trustworthy, I won't think twice about firing this weapon on you."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Agreed. That won't happen though". Salome strode confidentally past the Captain. "Which way to the ship?"&lt;br /&gt;"About a click north, north west" replied Seren uneasily, following the young woman, "Not taking the ATV then?". Salome dismissed it with a flick of her wrist. Galewind stood a moment, her mind attempting to determine the possible consequences of this meeting, her head tilted from side to side. She looked at the pistol in her hand and then at the blonde. Her deeply intense eyes narrowed. A slight twitch of the head and then she followed her captain.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4835544831229065493-4714005019321804266?l=persephoneone.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://persephoneone.blogspot.com/feeds/4714005019321804266/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://persephoneone.blogspot.com/2011/06/seren-and-galewind-stood-atop-dusty.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4835544831229065493/posts/default/4714005019321804266'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4835544831229065493/posts/default/4714005019321804266'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://persephoneone.blogspot.com/2011/06/seren-and-galewind-stood-atop-dusty.html' title='An unexpected addition'/><author><name>Seren</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02879912288228062152</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='19' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_uxGPcFI0o9Y/TG25XvXgllI/AAAAAAAAACI/dBanb3N5aV8/S220/nudearty_001.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4835544831229065493.post-9157062521637214475</id><published>2011-05-24T18:04:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2012-01-22T08:56:41.871-08:00</updated><title type='text'>A few days ago....</title><content type='html'>The air at the Oasis Winds Tavern was dry and humid with the familiar scent of ale and cinammon flavoured smoke only barely taking off the edge. Seren sat back in the corner chair sipping at her drink inbeween surveying the locals. They were a mixed bag. Miners, mechanics, administrators, legal enforcers and policy makers. All offworlders with a myriad of different complexions, sizes and species. It was a good vantage point. Not far from the door, not far from the bar and with a clear view out of the window onto the main thoroughfare of the city.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At a distance, she noticed two figures near the court house and immediately knew they were United Directorate Military. Even in disguise, her keen perception had detected the giveaway traits. Over confident body language, furtive use of the head, an over use of the feet when standing still. She'd seen it many times before and it was a skill that had gotten her out of trouble on more occasions than she cared to remember. It wasn't the first time she'd seen them. The Chief Magistrate strictly forbade armed patrols on the streets of the city but there was no law against two USM troops going for a "stroll". They were time shifting the patrols by 45 minutes each time to try and remain undetected. In many ways it was a classic military tactic. Ask permission first, do it anyway then deny everything.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She took another sip of her drink, she was one of the few that chose not to drink the spice infused beverages. The raqismanna was a highly addictive substance and she suspected the powers that be used it as a form of population control. After all, once you'd acquired the addiction it was near impossible to break without fatal consequences. It occured to her that her mind was wandering and that she was avoiding the manifests and forms that were sprawled over her table. As it turned out, she would have much more to worry about....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Seren rubbed her eyes. When she opened them, a cloaked figure sat before her. Their face was hidden within the thick fabric and dark shadows.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"You know, I'm a bit busy at the...."&lt;br /&gt;"We have a mutual friend", the figure interupted., motioning away Seren's prostestations with a graceful flick of a wrist, "It is vitally important that you follow the instructions on the parchment. You must do it before the day changes."&lt;br /&gt;A slender green hand pushed the parchment across the table, hiding it within the myriad of papers that covered half the table. Her index finger tapped at it. "All will become clear shortly. Ask no questions. Simply do".&lt;br /&gt;Before Seren could continue her protest, the hooded stranger had swept out of the bar and vanished into the bustling street. For a moment, she was stunned and confused. Then her senses came back to her and she realised she was now half standing, looking out of the door and looking suspicious. She sat down, her eyes briefly darted around the room looking for a sign of recognition or surveillance. Her senses told her she was safe and she gingerly pulled the parchment towards her. It was an old fashioned but secure way to communicate. Unlike a data pad, it was easy to hide and simple to destroy. She turned it over and read the digitally written text.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Leave the planet now. Co-ordinates will follow when safe. Secure channel 743, use encryption pattern K-3M-4"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Seren pursed her lips and rubbed her hand along the side of her face. Then she collected her papers and drained her glass.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Whilst she had considerable skill detecting the mannerisms of others, she was less adept at hiding her own when under stress and this worried her. As she approached the main docking pad where the Persephone waited, she hoped that the customs officer responsible for monitoring cargo ships wouldn't be waiting for her. As it was, she got unlucky.&lt;br /&gt;Standing at the entrance pouring over his datapad was the officer in question.&amp;nbsp;He was a portly, balding sort with a dark beard and wandering eyes. This last flaw in this character was, of course, the one she could take advantage of.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Hello miss, where'd you think you're going at this hour?"&lt;br /&gt;"Oh hey there mister", she flicked her hair back, put her hand on her hip and pushed her chest out slightly, "I'm heading back to my ship. Lots of paperwork to do and that darn droid can't be trusted to keep her fingers out of the cake tin."&lt;br /&gt;He looked puzzled for a moment. Seren realised that the idea of a droid eating cake was probably not an easy one so she corrected herself "She's partly organic. Has to keep the meaty parts going by eating. She's supposed to eat a carefully prepared recommended meal but she has a fancy for sweet things and what can you do?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;Stop babbling and get on the ship, &lt;/i&gt;she thought to herself.&lt;br /&gt;"You're not loading or unloading then?"&lt;br /&gt;She feigned humourous indignation "What? Do I look like a smuggler to you, I load and unload at the designated hours like everyone else!".&lt;br /&gt;The officer smiled and then motioned with his hands to "calm down".&lt;br /&gt;"Go on through then".&lt;br /&gt;"Thank you mister, much appreicated", she smiled, knowing that particular lie had worked a treat and congratulated herself as she walked across the platform.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On board the ship, she was greeted by her companion, Elena Galewind who looked more than a little surprised.&lt;br /&gt;"Yeah, yeah, yeah...I know. Back early." said Seren before she rushed past the mentat, up the stairs and started making alterations to the flight computer.&lt;br /&gt;"Are we leaving mistress?"&lt;br /&gt;"Immediately."&lt;br /&gt;"May I ask why?"&lt;br /&gt;"You can ask.....I don't know myself. Funny thing just happened at the bar. We need to go. Quit yacking and get us ready for take off."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The mentat's hands danced across the computer terminals - "Specific co-ordinates mistress?"&lt;br /&gt;"I don't know...." Seren stood with her arms on her hips, "I don't know".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sitting down in the leathery cockpit chairs, Seren pushed the button that retracted the ramp, checked the telemetry coming from in from the flight terminal and made the final preperations for take-off. Galewind sat alongside and monitored the comms channel, as she always did.&lt;br /&gt;"Set it to Channel 743, use the K-3M-4 encryption"&lt;br /&gt;Galewind looked at her captain, with a raised eyebrow.&lt;br /&gt;"Do it".&lt;br /&gt;She nodded and inputed the command into her terminal.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;With a roar, the engines fired up and the&lt;i&gt; Persephone&lt;/i&gt; swayed upwards and to the right. An horizon of ornate city towers gave way to the bleak desert and darkening skies. Looking out of the window to the planet's surface, Seren saw the Lowport and the increased USD activity. Soldiers swarmed along the ground like ants whilst aircraft took off in perfect vertical syncronisation. She muttered to herself, "That's not good..."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The dark skies gave way to the blackness of space. Stars twinkled angelically in the vastness of the universe and almost immediately, Seren noticed that some stars were moving much faster than others.&lt;br /&gt;"Captain....I'm detecting vessels entering the system....lots of vessels. There is also an emergency communique from the Constable's offices..."&lt;br /&gt;"Myrmidons, right?"&lt;br /&gt;Galewind nodded.&lt;br /&gt;"Okay, that explains a lot" said Seren, nodding as she surveyed the scene in front of her.&lt;br /&gt;"We're receiving a secure transmission Captain....from the Myrmidon fleet. We're to go to co-ordinates x7354, y454, z766"&lt;br /&gt;"Where does that take us?"&lt;br /&gt;"Following the flight plan it gives...it's a curved trajectory...to create the impression we're leaving the system, it brings us out..."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Seren frowned as she saw the readout. &amp;nbsp;And once Galewind had entered the co-ordinates, she punched the button and &lt;i&gt;Persephone &lt;/i&gt;vanished into hyperspace.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4835544831229065493-9157062521637214475?l=persephoneone.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://persephoneone.blogspot.com/feeds/9157062521637214475/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://persephoneone.blogspot.com/2011/05/few-days-ago.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4835544831229065493/posts/default/9157062521637214475'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4835544831229065493/posts/default/9157062521637214475'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://persephoneone.blogspot.com/2011/05/few-days-ago.html' title='A few days ago....'/><author><name>Seren</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02879912288228062152</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='19' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_uxGPcFI0o9Y/TG25XvXgllI/AAAAAAAAACI/dBanb3N5aV8/S220/nudearty_001.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4835544831229065493.post-3312175872894017552</id><published>2011-05-18T17:44:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2012-01-22T09:05:13.569-08:00</updated><title type='text'>[log] There's trouble in them there hills...</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;[Log Initialised. OK ]&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;The screen flickers and slowly an image comes into view. The young Captain of the Persephone One sits&amp;nbsp;onboard, easing back in a chair, removing the bandages that serve to protect her face from the harsh desert. Perspiration drips down her face, mingling with the desert dirt. In the background, there is faint chatter and the sound of ship engines. Almost certainly a port of some kind. She leans forward to speak...&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;I suppose I should update the log. Seems like the one from the desert got garbled and eaten again. I'll have to get the droid to look at it. Anyway, I'm too hot to worry about that now and there's lots to say...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;We're currently docked at the central Al&amp;nbsp;Raqis&amp;nbsp;spaceport. Engines fixed, all systems go.&amp;nbsp;There's so much traffic here that the ship will largely go unnoticed. I don't&amp;nbsp;&lt;i&gt;think&lt;/i&gt;&amp;nbsp;we have to worry about the Constable. If the Persephone was on the Imperium radar, they'd already be here and carrying me off to some prison planet or worse. At least that's what I've been told.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;Anyways, I have other things to worry about. Namely the Myrmidons. I was accosted in the foothills in the eastern deep desert. Now, remember that I'm supposed to be an ally. I've doing my bit for them, I'm smuggling necessary supplies from various places and doing it without the United System Directorate knowing about it. All at great personal risk to myself. I don't know what prisons look like on this planet and I'm not keen to find out so it's....advantageous to myself to be&amp;nbsp;everyone's&amp;nbsp;friend. After all, who knows when the&amp;nbsp;USD&amp;nbsp;might call on my services?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;So there I am, up in the foothills and this Myrmidon female appears from nowhere, head to toe in&amp;nbsp;camo. &amp;nbsp;She says she wants to know what I'm doing there and accuses me of looking for a good sniping position. Now, I was taken aback by that. Then another appears. Apparently they were doing training exercises in the area and I'm stumbled onto their radar. So now I'm on the nasty end of some very unpleasant looking weapons. They asked some questions, obviously trying to catch me out. Who are you? Where do you live? What do you do? Usual sort. Now, I'm used to this sort of thing. You don't spend as much time as I do flying the shipping lanes without encountering this sort of thing. I've got it down to a fine art. But you can't predict Myrmidons at all. Now seeing as I'm writing this log, you know I got out alive but next time, who knows? I'll be having word with the powers that be because this is unpleasant for my good self.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;Hang on..&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;In a whirlwind of commotion, another figure comes into view. A feminine shape....a blue-toned female clad in a dark skintight uniform. She has striking white hair and deep blue eyes. She mutters something into her&amp;nbsp;mistress's&amp;nbsp;ear who looks back at her astounded..&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;What do you mean my hotel bill is overdue? I told you to pay it....&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;No credits? What do you mean no credits?&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;[Log Terminated]&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4835544831229065493-3312175872894017552?l=persephoneone.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://persephoneone.blogspot.com/feeds/3312175872894017552/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://persephoneone.blogspot.com/2011/05/theres-trouble-in-them-there-hills.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4835544831229065493/posts/default/3312175872894017552'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4835544831229065493/posts/default/3312175872894017552'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://persephoneone.blogspot.com/2011/05/theres-trouble-in-them-there-hills.html' title='[log] There&apos;s trouble in them there hills...'/><author><name>Seren</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02879912288228062152</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='19' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_uxGPcFI0o9Y/TG25XvXgllI/AAAAAAAAACI/dBanb3N5aV8/S220/nudearty_001.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4835544831229065493.post-6649131783542666311</id><published>2011-05-13T18:16:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2012-01-22T09:08:09.011-08:00</updated><title type='text'>[log] An Eventful Day</title><content type='html'>[Remote Log Initialised. OK]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Been quite a day. I've just made a lucrative new deal with the Myrmidon Order that should ensure we can continue to meet the running costs of our supply depots, repair the &lt;i&gt;Persephone One&lt;/i&gt; and should things proceed as planned, we might be able to extend to purchasing a new ship. I'll admit to a sense of unease working with them considering they've already marooned me on Araxes&amp;nbsp;by shooting me down. I'll have to keep my eyes peeled and my ear on the ground and use the situation to my own advantage.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Currently at the pre-battle celebration on the Myrmidon homeworld of Praxis. This is a custom of theirs I'm led to believe. I travelled on the Orion Advocate's deep space shuttle so I'm starting to make connections in high places.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Botany Bay is proving to be a useful area for extending our business plans.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When we return to Araxes later, I'll meet up with the crew and discuss our options.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Seren out.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4835544831229065493-6649131783542666311?l=persephoneone.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://persephoneone.blogspot.com/feeds/6649131783542666311/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://persephoneone.blogspot.com/2011/05/eventful-day.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4835544831229065493/posts/default/6649131783542666311'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4835544831229065493/posts/default/6649131783542666311'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://persephoneone.blogspot.com/2011/05/eventful-day.html' title='[log] An Eventful Day'/><author><name>Seren</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02879912288228062152</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='19' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_uxGPcFI0o9Y/TG25XvXgllI/AAAAAAAAACI/dBanb3N5aV8/S220/nudearty_001.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4835544831229065493.post-650899995616838581</id><published>2011-05-11T16:19:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2012-01-22T09:09:10.300-08:00</updated><title type='text'>[log] Checking  in...</title><content type='html'>[Initialising Remote Log. OK]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Booked into a hotel. It's seedy and the bed has seen better days but it beats the chairs on the &lt;i&gt;Persephone&lt;/i&gt; any day. I know this sort of place. A nod and a wink and a "mind your own business" approach, which suits me down to the ground. Might be a good place to do business away from prying eyes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;Persephone One&lt;/i&gt; is hidden in the desert until things cool down so I'm investing the last of our free cash on a runabout to get me around. It'll do for the time being. Anyways, I've located a repair shop called the Monkey Wrench. As soon as I find the proprietor, I'll see about getting the navigational computer fixed. Meanwhile, I'm going to take a look around and soak up a bit of local culture.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4835544831229065493-650899995616838581?l=persephoneone.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://persephoneone.blogspot.com/feeds/650899995616838581/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://persephoneone.blogspot.com/2011/05/initialising-remote-log.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4835544831229065493/posts/default/650899995616838581'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4835544831229065493/posts/default/650899995616838581'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://persephoneone.blogspot.com/2011/05/initialising-remote-log.html' title='[log] Checking  in...'/><author><name>Seren</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02879912288228062152</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='19' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_uxGPcFI0o9Y/TG25XvXgllI/AAAAAAAAACI/dBanb3N5aV8/S220/nudearty_001.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4835544831229065493.post-516824814928712820</id><published>2011-05-10T17:47:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2012-01-22T09:13:55.269-08:00</updated><title type='text'>[log] [Initialising....]</title><content type='html'>&lt;i&gt;Crackling.....the screen flickers intermittently&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"....maybe if you reconfigure that...yeah, push that&lt;i&gt; in &lt;/i&gt;there. No, IN, you're pulling it out..."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;Static and white noise. Then a rolling, blurry mix of purple and green&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"..YES! We have visual! "&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;With a fizzle the screen returns to static&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"No, no, no, no, no. Whatever you just did, undo it.&lt;i&gt;"&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;Abruptly, an image. A young-ish human female. Porcelain skinned, dark purple hair. Green shirt opened flatteringly. She looks into the screen, her face too close as though she's looking through it.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"A-ha! There we go. If nothing else, I'll be able to talk to myself into the early hours. After all, what's a captain without a captain's log, eh?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;She pulls back looking satisfied and then turns to someone off screen..&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Why are you looking so offended? Well obviously I can talk to you...."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;With a crackle, the screen jolts back to black.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[Initialising Log. OK]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;An unknown period of time, probably a few hours. The young woman is back, with grime on her face and clothes looking tired but not exhausted. She relaxes into the chair. Somewhere in the background there are inaudible raised voices.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"They're arguing again. Incredible..."&lt;br /&gt;She looks into the screen and points a finger.&lt;br /&gt;"Make a note. Make sure your droid gets on with the rest of the crew before you procure them. Otherwise, your life is hell."&lt;br /&gt;Relaxing back into the chair, she runs her hand through her hair, ruffling it up.&lt;br /&gt;"Anyway, I'd better get started with this. Hello there. I'm Seren Undercroft, I'm the captain of this ship, for better or worse. This is the first log using this new datacorder. It looks like we lost the old log during the attack which is probably for the best...."&lt;br /&gt;From somewhere off-screen, the male synthetic voice murmurs something.&lt;br /&gt;"Hmm? What's that? No, not because it's incriminating...". She turns towards the screen to make the point. "Not because it's incriminating!"&lt;br /&gt;"Wait a moment. What's that? Why am I introducing myself? Because I have to feel like I'm talking to someone otherwise I'd feel like I was going mad. Why am I explaining myself to you? I'm the captain. Go and make yourself useful".&lt;br /&gt;She turns back to the screen, this time with a more definite sense of purpose.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"It's been a hectic few weeks. We've recently secured a licence to trade on the planet Araxes. Not just any old licence either. This one lets us trade spice too. SPICE! A handful of this spice can buy a house on some worlds. A decent house at that. So, like so many before me, we're coming here to make our fortune but if it were that easy everyone would be here. So let's fill you in on what's going down....."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Going down...that's a bad choice of words really. A few days ago, we were caught up in a orbital conflict between the United Systems Directorate and the Myrmidon Order. We think a Myrmidon cruiser got a direct hit, well whatever happened it was enough for us to make planetfall. We barely got the engines restarted in time. A minute later and they'd have been picking up wreckage for months. We hit a sand dune just outside of Al Raqis, Araxes's capital city. If we'd hit the city or the refinery, there would have been massive casualties. Anyway, it's hard securing replacement parts especially when the Myridions are blockading trade routes. We fixed the thrusters but we can't use the hyperspace engines without a navigational computer and that is toasted. Spare parts are few and far between in this part of space. Pretty much everything is. It didn't help matters that the Constable seemed to be checking out the &lt;i&gt;Persephone&lt;/i&gt;. She was flown by the Magenta Corporation for a little while. They ain't exactly the most law-abiding folks but I tried to cleanse the ship of all incrimiating info as best I could. Still, it's something else to worry about. "&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"We moved the ship on thruster power to the new colony in the south. I figured we'd fit in and in the hustle and bustle people would just assume we're with them. I want to lie low until things have calmed down. The Constable put a call out for brave traders willing to break the blockade. Normally I'd jump at the chance but with the ship in this state of disrepair, it'd be a suicide mission."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Okay, well I'm going off to the bar. People on this planet definitely have their priorities right. Not a drop of water on the planet but there's always alcohol!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[Terminating]&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4835544831229065493-516824814928712820?l=persephoneone.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://persephoneone.blogspot.com/feeds/516824814928712820/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://persephoneone.blogspot.com/2011/05/initialising.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4835544831229065493/posts/default/516824814928712820'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4835544831229065493/posts/default/516824814928712820'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://persephoneone.blogspot.com/2011/05/initialising.html' title='[log] [Initialising....]'/><author><name>Seren</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02879912288228062152</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='19' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_uxGPcFI0o9Y/TG25XvXgllI/AAAAAAAAACI/dBanb3N5aV8/S220/nudearty_001.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
