Vincello De'Cadera
Cartographer
Harelti Station - Somewhere in the Galaxy
"You better fucking get back here in two hours, yeah? You hear me, Vin!" It would have been nice to think the Captain cared, or even to think that the latter was a question and not an Order. But in Vin's experience there were only a few things that someone in charge actually cared about.
He tended not to be one of them.
Not that he really blamed them for that fact. To most crews he'd been a part of Vin was little more than the problematic gremlin lighting up in the corner. Occasionally he'd offer a remarkable insight into which unknown hyperlane presented the least opportunity of getting shot at, and that alone kept him from being thrown into the nearest airlock. Though that hadn't always been enough. More than once he'd been threatened with death because of his habits, a few other times because he couldn't keep his mouth shut around the inbred members of the crew who thought they knew the stars better than he did.
Still, Captain Qurellia wasn't the worst. The man paid him more than most, maybe because most of his crew was half as bad as Vin himself.
He'd managed to scrape up more than one vial of Ryl aboard the Feathered Fawn. A fact which told more than a little bit of a story about the ships crew.
Maybe that was why he offered the good Captain a wave as he began to head out of the Hangar bay and into Harelti Station. A small assurance that he would do his best to find his way back to the Fawn. An unspoken promise that after he sought out his next high that he'd stumble his way 'home'. Not that the choice was really one at all. Harelti wasn't exactly pleasant on it's best of days, it's slow degradation turning into a labyrinth of unseemly vendors, boxed off hallways, and blockaded hangar bays laying open to the confines of space.
The station was old enough that even it's outer-paneling had begun to fall away. Stripped by the vestiges of time and the infrequent meteoric impacts so common in the outer reaches of system space. The sad fact of the station's existence might have made it a derelict, save for it's more than reasonable governors. Men of enchanting business acumen, the leaders of Heralti had long established their boon lay within those who were less than lawful. Pirates, smugglers, murderers and cutthroats flocked here from all the ethos of the outer-rim. The station was no destination, but a stopping-point. A place to fuel up, grab what you needed, and maybe off-load a few goods that were otherwise too burdensome to carry forward.
Which was why it had some incredible drugs for purchase. A fact which Vin intended to take full advantage of.
Remaining remarkably upright, The Cartrographer stumbled his way through the outer hangar bays. Eyes half-glazed over, and blissfully unaware of the trouble already brewing deep within the station.
"You better fucking get back here in two hours, yeah? You hear me, Vin!" It would have been nice to think the Captain cared, or even to think that the latter was a question and not an Order. But in Vin's experience there were only a few things that someone in charge actually cared about.
He tended not to be one of them.
Not that he really blamed them for that fact. To most crews he'd been a part of Vin was little more than the problematic gremlin lighting up in the corner. Occasionally he'd offer a remarkable insight into which unknown hyperlane presented the least opportunity of getting shot at, and that alone kept him from being thrown into the nearest airlock. Though that hadn't always been enough. More than once he'd been threatened with death because of his habits, a few other times because he couldn't keep his mouth shut around the inbred members of the crew who thought they knew the stars better than he did.
Still, Captain Qurellia wasn't the worst. The man paid him more than most, maybe because most of his crew was half as bad as Vin himself.
He'd managed to scrape up more than one vial of Ryl aboard the Feathered Fawn. A fact which told more than a little bit of a story about the ships crew.
Maybe that was why he offered the good Captain a wave as he began to head out of the Hangar bay and into Harelti Station. A small assurance that he would do his best to find his way back to the Fawn. An unspoken promise that after he sought out his next high that he'd stumble his way 'home'. Not that the choice was really one at all. Harelti wasn't exactly pleasant on it's best of days, it's slow degradation turning into a labyrinth of unseemly vendors, boxed off hallways, and blockaded hangar bays laying open to the confines of space.
The station was old enough that even it's outer-paneling had begun to fall away. Stripped by the vestiges of time and the infrequent meteoric impacts so common in the outer reaches of system space. The sad fact of the station's existence might have made it a derelict, save for it's more than reasonable governors. Men of enchanting business acumen, the leaders of Heralti had long established their boon lay within those who were less than lawful. Pirates, smugglers, murderers and cutthroats flocked here from all the ethos of the outer-rim. The station was no destination, but a stopping-point. A place to fuel up, grab what you needed, and maybe off-load a few goods that were otherwise too burdensome to carry forward.
Which was why it had some incredible drugs for purchase. A fact which Vin intended to take full advantage of.
Remaining remarkably upright, The Cartrographer stumbled his way through the outer hangar bays. Eyes half-glazed over, and blissfully unaware of the trouble already brewing deep within the station.