Freya's Tears

The year is 3103...



"...And mankind has long wandered the paths of the stars, intrepid pioneers forging their way though the blackness of space."


*sound of papers being crumpled* Really? You want me to say this? Out loud? I feel like an idiot. Nope. Not gonna happen. There's enough melodrama out here in the black already.

Look, folks, this is an ongoing tale about me and my crew. I'm Captain Els Ulfarsdottir. We fly Freya's Tears, a former scout ship repurposed as a mid-range freight hauler over twenty years ago. Running cargo's a pretty nice life when you can get work. I won't lie though--times can get lean every so often. The trick is to have a decent reputation among reputable people.

What? Ja, so "reputable" and "reputation" are...repetitive. I'm still not saying all these pretty words that are written down. I think Kasli's going to bust her gut, she's laughing so hard..

So back to the topic at hand. If you folks have come here to read more about our continuing trials and tribulations, you're in the right place. If not, move along. This is my ship and those are my rules. Dinner's in the common room at nineteen hundred hours and you're on your own for the rest of your meals. The bridge and engineering are off limits but feel free to use the weights in the cargo hold. Check the rest of our ship out as you see fit. Austin says we'll be translating into jump space in about three minutes, and then we'll be on our way.

Stow it, Kasli! Don't make me come over there...




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