Wednesday, 30 March 2011


Working in a bar was... different, Laria considered, laying back on her bunk and staring at the ceiling. She notices a rust line creeping along the join between two of the plates, and fought down the urge to get a step-ladder and some wire wool to polish it away. These quarters were only temporary.

It was nice to get to meet people, though. Even if most of them varied between unscrupulous and downright evil. Perhaps some were merely prisoners of the choices they had made. Perhaps everyone was, in the end. She'd chosen not to do what her parents wanted, to become a capsuleer, to join the University and then to leave. And that had got her here.

And if the people who came into the bar were literally prisoners of those choices, then perhaps all they needed was the opportunity to find another way of life. To leave behind their mistakes and find a new way. It wouldn't be easy, though. It required trust, and that was the scarcest commodity in New Eden. She couldn't go about it in an obvious way. She had to befriend them, be a figure that they could believe in. Prove the benefits of living a good life, show that it could be exciting, profitable.

There. That was it. That was sassiness, surely? Blazing a path through the galaxy, dragging the lost back to the light in her wake. She sat up, quickly, and bumped her head on the shelf above the bunk. Ignoring the pain and the weird flashing in one eye, she got out her datapad. This idea required a list.

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