Tuesday, September 17, 2013

Flight of the Penguin ep 0.2: Prologue



007-1105

It’s been almost a year since it began; since Admiral Sir Henry Wilhelm Roosevelt Bloodworth, contacted you. Some of you knew him as The Hero of the Rim.  To others, the only name you ever had for him was “Sir”.  These days he just goes by “Captain Hank”.  

 He came to you all with a proposition: freedom.  Freedom from your pasts, from your pain, from your clingy boyfriend.  Freedom to find your fortune.  Freedom…and means.

The means in question? The Emperor Penguin; quite simply one of the sweetest little starships any of you has ever laid eyes on.  Not that she was much to look at; just an unassuming Type “R” Subsidized Merchant.  Maybe a trained eye could see the engine casings built out a bit more than normal.  Maybe the same trained eye looking a bit closer could see a few more antennae and lenses blinking from the avionics in the nose.  But it’s what’s on the inside that really counts, and she’s got it all:  Jump-2 capable with speed and maneuverability to match, three triple-turrets packed with all kinds of mayhem, and top-of-line computer systems to bring it all together.  She’s trouble waiting to happen…to someone else.

You’ve spent the last six months, since you all met at the agreed-upon rendezvous at Capital highport, travelling ever more coreward and spinward.  You’ve been buying and selling.  You’ve been taking on small jobs; never big enough to slow you down.  You’ve been getting to know each other.  You’ve been making the “Penguin” home.

And now…

You’re an hour away from exiting jump space and entering your new life in the Spinward Marches.  You’ve all heard lots of rumors: there’s a lot going on here.  From the Zhodani Consulate to the Sword Worlds; from the Darrians to the Federation of Arden, many forces vie for many things.  Maybe now you’ll find the truth behind the rumors…and your fortune, for good or ill.
Through various grapevines you’ve been led to understand that Duchess Delphine of Mora is looking for just such a crew as yours, for reasons which are unclear; they always are.
Good luck, and welcome to the Marches!