IN Jump Space enroute to Mora

Crew Galley – Lower Deck, Aboard Miss Fortune | In Jumpspace, en route to Mora System

The low hum of the jump drive sets a rhythmic pulse through the deck plating, barely audible beneath the subtle clink of mugs and utensils as the crew gathers in the galley. The guests are upstairs, resting—or bored—but either way, out of earshot. A low lamp casts a warm glow across the polished galley table. LC stands at its head, a small holoprojector casting a three-dimensional starmap above the tabletop, spinning gently on its axis.


LC, mug in one hand and stylus in the other, taps at the map and expands a region. Systems pulse into focus—Fornice, Maitz, Palique, Duale—each bracketed by colored indicators marking their port class, world type, and trading potential.

Fornice High population and high tech world.
Maitz Ice Capped, Non-Industrial and a Vacuum World
Palique High Population, Ice Capped, Industrialized, Non-Agricultural, High Technology world
Duale Poor, Pre-Industrial, Puzzle world with Research Station Alpha


He clears his throat and starts with his usual grin.

"All right, crew... we’re past the launch party, the cargo's locked down, and Mora’s on the clock. Now it’s time we chart a course not just for the next system—but for the next chapter."

He rotates the display to show a sector-wide view of the subsector. His tone shifts, just a touch more businesslike.


"Now, some of you were leaning toward Nadrin and Dojodo—worlds with lower scrutiny, low law, and the kind of quiet where a cargo of cutlasses sells itself." A quick glance to Bronz, and then Tharrok. "But others made a good point. Ghost towns don’t pay the mortgage."

The display zooms in on Palique, Maitz, and Duale. LC’s stylus circles each.

"So let’s talk Rimward. These three—Maitz, Palique, Duale—each sport an A-class starport. Best infrastructure money can build. That means bonus rolls on cargo availability, more passengers, more logistics support… and less likelihood of needing to bribe someone to flush a toilet."

He raps a knuckle on the edge of the display for emphasis.

"Palique seems to be the prize here. High pop. High tech. Industrial. Cold as the edge of a vacc suit—but hungry for foodstuffs, art, raw materials. Jokotre's finest bladework could fetch a premium in a world where dinner knives cost more than an entry visa."

LC pauses and looks at everyone;
"I sort of need your help and your input..."

He turns toward Leilani and Bronz.

"You both mentioned some traction Rimward. If you’ve got contacts, rumors, half-whispers worth chasing—I want to hear them. Anything we can turn into creds or leverage, throw it on the board."

The map shifts again, now displaying surrounding worlds—Grille, Hexos, Tivid, Nexine, Mainz, Pedase, Tussinian.


"The neighbors, though? Mixed bag. Grille, Meleto, Pimane—all low pop and bad ports. More trouble than they’re worth. But... Hexos and Tussinian? Decent. Tivid and Nexine are C ports. Not ideal, but we could route through them for opportunistic grabs."

He zooms back out.

"Here’s what I want from all of you: your thoughts. This ship runs on more than fuel and spice tea. If any of you have patrons, associates, local rumors, or just a gut feeling about one of these worlds—we listen, we weigh, we decide."

His gaze falls on Tharrok.

"You’ve flown these lanes more than most. You see a pattern worth riding?"

He gestures toward Bronz.

"Bronz, I know you're keeping an eye on the margins—what looks juicy to you?"

Turning to Leilani, he adds:

"You ever heard whisperings out of Research Station Alpha? Duale’s odd, but odd pays if you speak the language."

He gives Kayla a diplomatic nod.

"Ms. Hong, if any of your contacts in the diplomatic corps traveled these circuits, we’ll take their wine-soaked gossip if it gets us one step ahead of the market."

Then he looks at Decherrek the Drone
"Aslan got your tongue Decherrek? you are usually more talkative, do you see any options that we haven't?"

And finally, he opens it to everyone:

"This is the kind of crew where everyone gets a say. But this bird’s gotta fly with direction. So let’s hash it out—quietly, smartly, together."

He flicks the stylus down and lets the map spin slowly again, waiting for voices to weigh in.

"You have become a 'crew' very quickly! It has been informative. Educational.

"I had imagined a more active role for myself. But you are doing fine without advice. Perhaps I shall leave you to your own devices once we arrive at Mora. Unless there is something there that I will need your help with.

"Mora is, of course, the 'beating heart' of the Spinward Marches. All routes lead to Mora, as is often said. You will find heavy space traffic there. And I think you will find it difficult to procure cargo. And perhaps even to sell what you now carry. The Corporations dominate all commerce, and Free Traders can usually only find some small scraps and crumbs.

"But so far you have been very resourceful. Perhaps you will continue to have luck."

BIC – Crew Galley, Jump Space to Mora

LC leaned back in his seat, steepling his fingers as Decherrek hovered and delivered its analysis. He listened politely, letting the full speech roll over him before replying.

"Decherrek… I’ll be honest—I had hoped you’d speak up sooner."

He gave the drone a nod that was part apology, part invitation.

"When I pitched Nadrin and Dojodo, I was looking forward to hearing what a diplomatic-techno-archeo-linguistic construct with an archive the size of a Scout base library might think. But I get it. Crew’s found rhythm, and it’s easy to hang back when the engine’s already running."

He gestured to the galley’s display, now dimmed but still hovering with trade routes and world tags.

"Still, I value your input. You’re not just ballast with opinions. You’re crew, and what you say carries weight—especially about Mora."

LC stood and walked a slow half-circle around the table, speaking with a casual confidence.

"Yes, Mora’s crowded. Corporations have their claws deep in the docks. Big boys like Al Mora Lines don’t exactly welcome Free Traders at the banquet table. But…"

He looked back at the drone with a half-grin.

"We’ve always been the sort to set our own table, haven’t we? Between Alice’s replacement’s silver tongue, Said-Ma’s knack for permits, and a few connections left behind by Smugg Orney Enterprises—well, crumbs can be turned into cake if you know how to bake."

He leaned one hand on the table, tapping a fingernail thoughtfully.

"I’m not afraid of Mora. There’s always someone needing a shipment they can’t run through official channels. Someone needing speed. Discretion. Plausible deniability. And that, dear Decherrek, is our specialty."

Then, softening a touch:

"But if there’s something waiting for you at Mora—unfinished business, lost data, or a contact that still pings on some deep frequency—you will tell me, won’t you? We don’t leave crew behind. Or in limbo."

He smiled, eyes sharp but friendly.

"So: stay or go, the door’s always open. But speak your mind when it matters—your voice belongs in this room."

He raised his mug toward the drone, then toward the rest of the quiet galley.

"Okay Decherrek gave us information so let's hear what you think."

"Mora, High-Population and Industrialized. Cutting-edge technology. Population is over 10-billion now! Most humans. Ruled by Industrial/Economic Leaders who are very popular as I understand it. Chicken in every pot. Two cars in every garage. I do not even know what that means, but I understand it as a good thing.

"Banking sector very strong. Perhaps I find a new 'skip' to pursue. That is why I am called Tracy! I do not think you wish to be my 'taxi-cab' if I do that thing. I cannot pay you enough. It is more efficient for me to use Fast-Liners if I am able.

"Hmmm. Charters are sometimes a way to make credit. But that business is sometimes hard. Like rocky moon. Reputation counts. So to establish rep, what do you do? How do you start that? I am asking, not saying. Interesting question. I think there must be specialized brokers who work that market?"

Ah, sometime it good to have route plan for more than one jump. Can maybe find long-range passengers, long distance freight. But lose flexibility I think. Interesting choice. Have plan will travel!

Bronz nods slightly at Tharrok’s assessment. "Sounds about right to me."

He leans back against the bulkhead. "Been thinking, Duale’s listed as a research facility, odds are, there’s someone out there who wants something moved in or out... unofficially. High risk, sure. But higher pay usually comes with that. Someone just needs to know who to talk to."

His eyes flick briefly to Kayla and Leilani, gauging their reactions. Then he looks back to LC.

"If cargo like that’s floating around, seems like the kind of work we’d want to be known for. At least... with the right people."

LC finishes stirring his kaffe and sets the spoon gently onto the tray, then leans forward in his seat, elbows resting on the galley table as he surveys the gathered crew.

"Well, hells... if I didn’t know better, I’d say we were starting to sound like a proper shipping concern," he says with a grin, eyes scanning the faces around the table. "Solid analysis all around."

He gestures to the starmap hovering above the table, casting soft blue glows across mugs and datapads.

"Let’s talk this route."

He nods to Tharrok, lifting his mug slightly. "You’re right—Fornice back to Maitz, then to Duale, Hexos, and finally Palique... that’s a thread worth pulling. Fornice, we already know, is fat with goods, tech, and the kind of market churn that churns profits if you know what you’re doing. And I’d wager at least one of us here knows what they’re doing."

A faint, knowing smirk as he glances toward Bronz, then to Tamm.

"Maitz is rough around the edges — ice-capped, vacuum, and non-industrial — but that kind of world needs everything. Spare parts, processors, canned luxury, even stimulants or spices. Not a lot of foot traffic, but what lands tends to pay well for the right comforts."

His tone turns a bit more serious.

"Duale... now, that’s a wild card. Puzzle world, pre-industrial, marked ‘Poor,’ and home to the remnants of Research Station Alpha. Which — for those keeping score — went boom thirteen years ago. Imperial Navy’s rebuilding efforts may have made things a bit more... lucrative. Bronz, you’re not wrong: if there’s smuggling or shadow hauling to be done, Duale’s where whispers become jobs — so long as we don’t trip over any buried secrets or classified cargo tags."

He taps the map to highlight Hexos.

"Hexos gives us our bridge to Palique — B-class port, non-industrial, but they’ve got enough throughput for raw materials or frontier-tech goods. If we’ve got any artisan or niche stock aboard, Hexos is the place to offload it."

The display shifts to show Palique — snowy, industrial, and gleaming in the holo with a pristine starport icon.

"Now Palique… that’s a crown jewel for traders like us. High population, high tech, industrialized, and non-agricultural. That last bit’s key. They need food, organics, grains, luxury delicacies. We’ve already had success moving spices and wheat. Tamm’s suggestion there is sound — and if we play our hand right, I’d like to double down on it."

He pauses, then lets his eyes sweep the room.

"But let’s not forget the hidden coin."

"Tharrok, you mentioned Trin — and stars know, that’s worth aiming for. If we can make Palique our gateway, Trin becomes a logical leap. That means setting ourselves up with a name worth trusting and a reputation worth fearing, depending on the cargo."

He gives Decherrek a respectful nod.

"Drone’s right — locking a full route makes us less nimble. But it also opens the door for long-haul freight and advance bookings. If we keep our options open and grease the right palms."

Then he turns to Bronz, his tone more measured.

"You said it — the work we want to be known for. Mora’s got eyes, and Palique’s got reach. If we want the kind of cargo nobody posts on the boards, we need the right ears open — and the right mouths shut. That’ll mean subtle introductions. Favours owed. Maybe even a bottle of something untraceable delivered to the right dockmaster’s brother."

He straightens, brushing imaginary lint from his sleeve.

"So here’s what I propose. We hit Mora, move the last of our current stock, replenish, and play polite. But while we’re above deck sipping caf and shaking hands, let’s have Kayla and Leilani tug at any social strings they can reach — nobles, handlers, ex-diplomats, admirers... whatever walks and talks."

"And if you’ve got someone in Maitz, Duale, or Palique — a cousin, a patron, a drinking partner — now’s the time to say it. Because I’d rather do business with someone who owes us a drink than one who draws on us at the dock."

He lets that hang for a moment.

"Thoughts? Concerns? Or better routes? Speak now or plot a boring one-parsec hop forever."

BIC: Aboard Miss Fortune, Bridge – During Jumpspace to Mora

LC stepped lightly onto the bridge, hands clasped behind his back tyring to look the part of a Far Trader Captain, the faint blue glow of instruments playing across his face. He hadn’t come to disrupt—just to take in the hum of the ship’s heart and stretch his legs away from the galley politics. He was halfway to his usual corner when Tharrok spoke.
LC listened, silent at first—just nodding as the Vargr laid it out. The name Phelan Markensen hung in the air for a moment, like the lingering echo of a ship’s name half-heard over port comms. When Tharrok turned back to his console, LC stepped up beside him, resting one hand casually against the frame.

"Markensen, huh?" LC’s voice was low, thoughtful. "Anyone who can outfly you either has a gift or a death wish. Either way, he’s worth a ping."

He looked out at the slowly pulsing distortion of jump space beyond the viewscreen, then back toward Tharrok.

"If he’s still out there, flying the lanes between Trin, Glisten, and in District 268—he might be our bridge into more lucrative company. That’s prime territory. Fat with commerce, but regulated by trust. Local faces go further than legit credentials in places like that."

A pause. Then, with a half-smile:

"And I’ve never turned down a man who owed someone else a beer. Especially not when there’s a chance we could convert that beer into a cargo deal."

LC turned, took a few steps toward the nav readouts, and casually tossed back:

"Fire off that xBoat message when we hit Mora. Keep it casual. If he’s legit, we’ll raise a glass. If he’s not… well, you and I both know how fast old debts turn into useful leverage."

He stopped, resting a hand lightly on the jump integrity monitor.

"And Tharrok—thanks for sharing. I know the past isn’t something everyone likes to unpack. But when a pilot tells me about another pilot, I listen."

A beat passed, quiet but comfortable.

"Now keep us steady. Wouldn’t want the jump bubble unraveling just because the captain started getting sentimental."

LC stops dead in his tracks,
" wait, hold on.....a minute...I know I am not the best astrogator in these parts, but District 268 is a way from where we are going. "
LC looks at Tharrok, then squints his face and then looks back to Tharrok
"It is 26 parsecs from Mora and ...20 parsecs from Palique...if I didn't know any better.."
LC looks at Tharrok with a loppy side grin
"go ahead and when we come out of jump space at Mora, arraign for the x-boat message. I assume you know how to reach out to him."
He looks at Tharrok with a serious look
"Or is plausible deniability what I should be pursuing?" (grin)

With the plan set, Bronz made his way back to his stateroom in silence, relieved no one had pushed him to reach out to his "contacts." He had no interest in rekindling ties with that world or the people in it. They’d purposefully stranded him.

That part of his life was done. He meant to keep it that way.

Sure, some of the cargo they might haul in the future could raise a few eyebrows, but as long as it stayed on the right side of the law, he could live with it. He was done looking over his shoulder, wondering if the person in the next bunk had orders to cut his throat.

Maybe this life had less edge to it but with this crew, as diverse as they were, there’d be no shortage of surprises. He was fine watching from the sidelines.

LC looking at Kayla Hong
"Miss Hong if you have any diplomatic contacts or other social contacts we need you to reach out to them when we come out of jump space at Mora"

"Y'know I'll go where this ship goes, but..." Leilani paused for a suitable dramatic effect "But the further Spinward we go, the less influence we have. I doubt someone from the Sword World cares that you have a Baroness on crew..."

She paused a moment a thought before adding

"I mean I don't care about that kind of stuff either, but that's beside the point!"