Location: Some God-forsaken Rock on the Askonia Fringe
Date: 198.05.17

We had a deal. 

In a dusty no-good bar on Asharu I met the miner with the metal eye. He winked and sold me twelve containers of low-grade ferrous ore hiding four hundred thirty two CP-carbines with enough ammunition to fuel a small insurgency for an entire muggy Volturn summer season. The next step was a rendevous with Moon "High Rad" Salazar. Moon flies a Mule past Diktat patrols but never seems to get out of owing someone a lot of something. Reactor plating was always a bit thin, if you catch my meaning.

I'm paid to ship cargo, not ask questions. But I gotta ask why's Moon saying she's not going to pay for this job, that 'You might as well hand over the cargo now because no one needs to die for a shipment of hot guns'.

Now, I weren't the one to broach this question of who's dying for what out here, but now that's on the table being asked and I've got to provide her a good answer.


I ping my Second with the go-code and flip the safeties. Fifty klicks away, the scope shows Moon's engines bloom with gamma radiation as she maneuvers to an attack vector.