Corvetta Salvo
Always Crankin'
It had been quite the roundabout trip, but Corvetta had finally returned to her birthplace, a weathered space station orbiting the commercial hub of Brentaal IV. Literally, she had been born on this very celestial city. She supposed she should feel somewhat sentimental about that, but right now she was exhausted.
The entertainment atrium within the station was hardly a rowdy zone. So many freighter pilots and merchants passed through the vendors' court, but they were often weary of their travels and just wanted a place to relax or doze off. Which many of them did as soon as they found a seat to their liking. The room was often optimally silent with only a faint resonating overtone of a smooth jazz medley.
It made Corvetta envious. Her insomnia was nearly insatiable. It had been nearly six days since she had gotten enough alcohol in her system to get a good night's sleep, and even then it was under extreme duress. She preferred not to drink in public for fear of going comatose and vulnerable to whatever wiseguy came around, but she had no obligations to an employer at the moment and was just desperate to get some shut-eye.
With a glass of local gin, she drowsily sat back and observed a ring of pilots mumbling about territorial conflicts affecting tolls.
[member="Carden Lorps"]
The entertainment atrium within the station was hardly a rowdy zone. So many freighter pilots and merchants passed through the vendors' court, but they were often weary of their travels and just wanted a place to relax or doze off. Which many of them did as soon as they found a seat to their liking. The room was often optimally silent with only a faint resonating overtone of a smooth jazz medley.
It made Corvetta envious. Her insomnia was nearly insatiable. It had been nearly six days since she had gotten enough alcohol in her system to get a good night's sleep, and even then it was under extreme duress. She preferred not to drink in public for fear of going comatose and vulnerable to whatever wiseguy came around, but she had no obligations to an employer at the moment and was just desperate to get some shut-eye.
With a glass of local gin, she drowsily sat back and observed a ring of pilots mumbling about territorial conflicts affecting tolls.
[member="Carden Lorps"]