Archive | October 2013

UPDATE: Schedule change

Andrew and I have discovered a bit of a flaw in our posting schedule.  With the current plan, we tend to forget that the deadline is approaching until it’s on top of us because it’s so early on in the week, so we’ve been rushed to polish and post our entries.  In an effort to stave off that stressful tendency, beginning this week we will be posting new entries on Fridays instead.  Thanks for bearing with us, and for reading Aldaeus every week.  It means a lot to us, and we appreciate each one of you.  See you on Friday!


Aldaeus Entry #11: Parlay

On the outer edge of the Thor Nebular Cluster, there is a large asteroid with no official designation. On this asteroid is the largest, most slapdash space station ever constructed. It is made from pieces of various ships as well as geodomes of UPNA, EU and even Japanese designs. The complex covers almost the entire surface of the asteroid and boasts four MarkVII Northwest PowerCorp Dark Matter reactors. At the highest point of the complex is the penthouse suite, home of Ferran Mitchell, the Pirate King of the Thor Nebular Cluster. King Ferran was a large, burly man with thick, strong arms and only one eye. He could have afforded a bionic replacement, but he preferred the classic pirate imagery conjured up by a patch. His long, black hair was curled into tight dreadlocks and his dark skin was criss-crossed with scars from innumerable hand-to-hand fights. Ferran’s left hand was bionic, and he had decided to forgo the plasti-flesh covering, in favor of the more intimidating look of the bare titanium. His deep, smooth, easy-going Jamaican accent contrasted sharply with his rough exterior, producing a strangely disquieting effect. The man himself existed in a complicated middle ground. His moods could swing from homicidal fury to good-natured bonhomie in the blink of an eye. He could stay up for days at a time, overseeing the various operations of the base, but other times he would spend a week lounging in his penthouse accomplishing nothing of consequence. Despite his capricious nature, King Ferran held the respect of his subordinates with a mixture of charisma and terror. The other pirates knew better than to try to cheat the King out of his cut from their spoils, and when the King called on them for help, no one dared to refuse. Read More…

Aldaeus Entry #10: Backlash

Caris sat cross-legged on the floor of the bridge, taking in the calm glow of the Earth through the viewport before her.  From the Triumph’s position orbiting the moon, the planet looked like a huge marble of opaque, swirled glass, a fragile work of art made to be looked at from a distance but not touched.  For Caris, it may as well have been.  Born and raised in the People’s Republic of Asia’s colony on Sirius III, she’d never set foot on Earth before, and considering her recent activity with the Alpha Centauri resistance she wasn’t likely to do so anytime soon.  Even being this close was rare, and she savored the opportunity to take in the unique beauty of humanity’s home.  Everyone she knew and loved, every friend and enemy and stranger found their origin in that expanse of dirt and sea and sky.  Its very atoms were rich with history.

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Aldaeus Entry #9: Bureaucracy

Demitri Orlov was making himself at home in the offices of O’Ryan Deep Space Salvage. He had already raided the fridge and helped himself to some pickles and beer, and he was clearing a place on one of the desks where he could put his feet up, when he heard a knock at the door.

Yuri, is that you?” he called, “It’s about damn time!” There was no answer. “Yuri?” he asked again. Still no answer. With a deep sigh and a string of muttered curses, Demitri hauled himself up out of his chair and stomped over to the door. He pulled it open a little too hard, and stumbled back a step to avoid hitting himself in the face. Standing on the front step was a person who definitely wasn’t Yuri. Read More…