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10th October, 4501

Merc Doods

by Captain Peter Avignon

Captain’s Log – SS Good Times II


Miracle System – 1 October 4501
 
We hadn’t even finished docking procedures on Miracle when a tight-beam transmission arrived—encrypted, timestamped from around the time we’d left the system last. Coordinates only. No name, no explanation. Just a location: a tavern in a port town called Soto De Hielo.
 
The town’s a solid mid-level settlement—15 to 20 thousand souls, with its own spaceport and that particular brand of neon-drenched, rust-flecked cyberpunk charm that seems to thrive this far from the Core. Lucid strapped on that oversized flying sword she’s so proud of—looks a little ridiculous on her frame, but she carries it like she owns the street. Can’t argue with confidence.
 
The tavern was exactly what you’d expect: low light, lower morals, and a smell like recycled air and broken promises. We took a booth. Lucid killed an energy drink in three gulps. I ordered something called a “Nanobrew”—thick enough to chew, 50% hops by volume. Beñat went local with a viciously bitter microbrew and a plate of worm cheese. Tasted like regret and pepper.
 
A figure approached—grey cloak, shaved head, androgynous build. They slid into the booth between Lucid and me without a word. The barkeep brought them the same gut-rot Beñat was drinking. Then they… changed. A flicker behind the eyes, a shift in posture. Something woke up behind their face.
 
The voice was different. Calm. Authoritative. They laid out the job: guard an industrial facility on Sienta. A ship is being built for a system navy. Twelve mercenaries needed. Half a million credits upfront to fund and equip the team—more on completion. Three million for success, double if we provide an escort through the next system.
 
They claimed to be part of an anti-piracy group—500 years old, few ships, fewer crew. The credit stick they handed Lucid felt heavy with promise. Moderate pirate risk. Possible collusion with the previous security team.
 
The presence left as suddenly as it came. The person across from us blinked, confused. Called the one we spoke to “Boss.” An agent wafer in their skull—remote puppetry. Classy.
 
We’re recruiting all twelve of our new fleet members for this. Cost us 460,320 credits to gear them up. In ten days, we’ll be guarding a shipyard. In five, we’ll be back in this bar—getting paid, or getting dead.
 
— Captain Peter Avignon
SS Good Times II
“We don’t take jobs. We take chances.”
 
[Addendum: If this goes south, remind me to bill the “500-year-old anti-piracy group” for dry cleaning. And trauma.]

Continue reading...

  1. Personal Log - New Year, New Shipping Codes
    2nd of January, 4500
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  47. Merc Doods 3: The Merckening
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    1 March, 4502
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    2nd of May, 4502 CE

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by 3 Armored Kittens · Prodromos v.1.1 - World Anvil 0.9.15.050 © 2017-2025 [en] | Anvil Time: 02:20, Jun 12 2026