The Angel Celinox
Age: 6 years, 3 months, 1 week
Born: March 18th, 2013
Adopted: 6 years, 3 months, 1 week ago
Adopted: March 18th, 2013
- Level: 311
- Strength: 777
- Defense: 779
- Speed: 774
- Health: 777
- HP: 765/777
- Intelligence: 395
- Books Read: 389
- Food Eaten: 5
- Job: Captain Jacques First Mate
Sleek, silver, and beautiful as the girls on Oluthia. I couldn't afford a ride like that with an honest man's salary, not if I worked the diamond mines of Orion VII for the next ten years.
Her owner is in no such financial plight. He actually has a squad of Tevions as guards. Those overgrown lizard-men may not look like much from a distance but they can snap the neck of a tanther one-handed. I don't know about you, but I wouldn't want to take on a cat the size of a horse with seven rows of teeth. These guys do it for sport.
I will return for you, beautiful Horizon, but not today. I should not be back on Zeveli. The Squad has made it abundantly clear that I am not welcome at this port. I have the laser scar on my leg to prove it.
My last voyage ended badly. The Captain is what they called an old salt back in the days when ships were limited to sailing the oceans of Earth. He drank the Ormoda wine, chugging each lilac drink as if it were water. I took him for an easy mark. Gaining control of the ship was much too easy. I barely dodged the obedience collar the Second tried to slip around my neck. I made it to the nearest escape pod which was preset to land at the closest safe port.
I still have my plasma beam though it's at half-charge. The bag of marks I stole from the Captain's cabin will get me passage on a merchant vessel if I'm not too picky.
Ah, there it is. One of those floating metal cubes with supplies enough to sustain a planet for two years. It looks like their last trade was unsuccessful. Excellent. They will not be able to resist a strong body with a pocket full of marks.
The Captain eyes me with a mixture of hostility and mistrust. Honest men don't sign onto a voyage like this at the last minute. Three of his regulars are landed, though, and he's desperate. I play ignorant when he quotes a price twice the usual rate. That seems to appease him a little.
It is just my luck that the navigator is an idiot. Rather than Gorn III we end up hovering over Gorn VI. Rather than wearing leis weaved by the supple fingers of Gorinas, we stare down at the inhospitable stretches of carnivorous forest that cover 80% of the planet's surface. Perhaps the ship's mechanic is a relation. She failed to secure a gasket and we must hover in this shuddering metal bomb while the Captain takes too long to make a decision. One decimal point out of place and our guts will be blown across the galaxy with a million titanium parts.
I never achieved the rank of pilot officially, but I can fly. It's a vital skill when so many people want you dead. It is a pleasure to disappoint them. I do not intend to die easily and certainly not at the hand (or claw) of any creature. I absolutely refuse to die in space. Just the idea of floating for all eternity in that void could drive the stoutest bluthak mad.
They all stare at me as I punch in coordinates that will not set us down in some hungry plant's tentacles. They hate me. The feeling is mutual. These men who train for years for just such scenarios as this always hesitate in the critical moment. Donning a spare survival suit, I set out to do a bit of exploring. A mechanic I am not.
I pilfered a bag of cosmoids from the Captain's quarters when we were negotiating my boarding fee. He turned his back for maybe thirty seconds and I had the combination of his private safe. So predictable.
They are strange black gems, each with a clear flaw in the heart that takes on a new color for each handler. Some say they reveal the color of a man's soul. I take one out of the bag, holding up beneath the light of this planet's three suns. The clear flaw changes to a blue-green swirl. I tuck it away again before it can draw any unwanted notice.
The murmur of an incoming ship catches my attention. It is a small vessel, one of the Cruiser class. A scout for the Interstellar Police. Crap.
This will take very careful timing. I need the cadet to board the merchant ship but I can't give him enough time to do a signature scan. If he locks onto me while I'm still on the planet surface he can track me to any port, regardless of distance.
I take care to disable the radio as the Cruiser's engines fire up. Must be a real rookie. He was actually dumb enough to disable his security shield so he wouldn't have to go through the bother of clearance when he wanted to board again. I love rookies.
In about 30 seconds they'll have me on a watch list if I don't do something. Every Cruiser in a five-planet radius will be on my tail fins if they don't just decide to shoot me. Good thing even these one-man ships come with a distress call. The nearest port is Aranti. Not one I'm familiar with. Perfect.
Sometimes the forces of the universe hand you a bit of fortune with a big, sloppy kiss. I spot my silver beauty as I come in for a landing. She sulks behind a line of red quarantine tape. I've got my story all prepared the moment I land. I almost fall into the arms of the Squad Leader who runs forward to confront me. I give him the cadet's badge and the name of the merchant vessel, sobbing my story of being stranded by space bandits and going to beg the merchants for safe passage under Port Law. A Captain who leaves any man, woman, or other humanoid stranded on a planet can lose their license. This Captain seemed to be having engine troubles, I insist. The Cruiser arrived as the first passengers stumbled off, their faces marked with the green splotches of Syluvian Fever. I stole the cruiser and activated the air lock in time or I'd be dead by now. I beg the SL to send someone to those poor souls on Gorn VI.
I'm quite the actor, for a pirate. They even set me up in a fancy hotel room where I can eat like a Globun prince and watch any of seventy-five thousand intergalactic channels. It's the kind of place where every seemingly harmless plant and abstract painting is secretly a diversion device, designed to give you feelings of contentment so you'll cough up another 25 grand for just one more night. One night almost always turns into seven. Somewhere out there are a merchant Captain and cadet going through the unpleasant process of decontamination. Nobody messes around with Syluvian Fever, but the Squad didn't earn the respect of the galaxies by being stupid. The truth will come out sooner rather than later and I'd rather not be present for the inquiry.
The lobby has a group of live Oluthian performers. Curse you zillionaires of Tion! Maybe I could stay for a few hours...No! Keep moving or you'll be waking up in one of their interrogation chambers.
It would seem whatever mysterious space pox struck the owner of Horizon is not one a Tevion can claim immunity to. Only one of their number stands on the entry ramp, looking pale even for a Tevion.
It is not hard to get my hands on one of the bright yellow protection suits. The Tevion watches me board with little interest. The cleaning process for a contaminated ship is intense and no crewman is allowed to take more than a fifteen-minute shift. The Tevion does not realize the cleaning crew finished an hour ago. He staggers off the ramp in surprise as I activate the air lock.
Let them send the whole Squad Fleet! They'll never catch me! The Horizon is faster than even my fantasies had led me to believe. I plug in the coordinates almost without thinking. From one dream to another.
It is believed that Aelpha was the first planet with life though few are willing to travel the distance to prove that theory. The native race died out centuries ago, leaving behind a library of unspeakable scholarly value.
I've got all the time in the galaxy and the owner had good taste. The wine in particular is exquisite. I didn't even know there were any bottles of the 3197 vintage Gonglax sherry left in the galaxy, not after the Squad raided Gorgola the Fearless. It is said he had a collection of every potent punch from every world, even Earth's sorry swill.
Is there anything that compares to the feel of a brittle page between your fingers? You can almost feel you are the lost member of an ancient pantheon, looking down with pity on your primitive worshippers, when you read a passage set down at the dawn of life.
I cannot spare more than a glance to admire the gorgeous landscape or the rainbow-hued creatures that swarm around me in a burst of color, but a glance is enough to leave an everlasting impression that this place is truly paradise. The flowers bend down on pale green stems to release a subtle fragrance that brings to mind Mother's apple pie, the thrill of a space chase, and the discovery of a lost chest of ancient scrolls all at once. Their colors shift subtly in the light, now a pale lavender, now a bright and wonderful crimson. A painter would go mad here.
I do not know how many hours I have spent passing from one marvel to another. There are a thousand halls, each filled with new wonders. Scrolls written on the back of some alligator-like skin with chairs of the same material. A room entirely black and white with odd geometric shapes and telescreens begging to be swiped with a curious finger. Books bound in what looks like solid gold with gems I have no name for on the bindings.
The greatest treasure, though, is surely the map room. What use of color and detail! What glorious variety that shows the minds of a million civilizations! Not all are crude sketches of a land mass and its formations. Here is a temple to some forgotten sea goddess, her aqua hair flowing in a river from which tiny blue fish leap. This one shows the course through a maze of some kind. The grotesque snarling gargoyles to the side might lead you to believe this was the original lair of the Minotaur but from what few words I can understand, I determine it is actually an amusement park of some kind. There are even a handful of mind maps. Mind maps! Those impossibly complicated sketches of elite brains, allowing the scholar to read the every thought of the creator through an intricate series of symbols so tiny they require a special machine with a needle that cannot be seen by the human eye.
This place is paradise, but it is not home. I have no home and I cannot stay.
I gather the very best maps, to sell to the highest bidder. Maybe I'll keep just one or two for myself. At the foot of the statue whose features have been lost to time, I make an offering of the finest cosmoid. The flaw in the center flares a brilliant white and goes dark.
Coding: x x x
This art by: User not found: anastasia
Story by Pureflower
Profile by Shantal
Art by Nayona
X by User not found: neo8833
Ship Steering for Scallywags
Gold Anchor Gift
Bloodied Sawed Off Double Barrel Shotgun with Machete
Bootlegger Stray Bullet
Solid Brass Compass
Dual Flintlock Pistols
Blunderbuss Flintlock Pistol
Quadbarrel Flintlock Pistol
Cask of Rum
Dusty Old Map
Spilled Treasure Urn
Compass of the Adventurer
Glowing Chunk of Space Rock
Pirate Bounty Poster
Treasure Map Piece 1
Treasure Map Piece 2
Treasure Map Piece 3
Treasure Map Piece 5
Treasure Map Piece 6
Treasure Map Piece 7
Uncharted Land Map Piece 1
Treasure Map Piece 8
Treasure Map Piece 9
Uncharted Land Map Piece 2
Uncharted Land Map Piece 3
Uncharted Land Map Piece 6
Uncharted Land Map Piece 4
Uncharted Land Map Piece 5
Uncharted Land Map Piece 7
Uncharted Land Map Piece 8
Uncharted Land Map Piece 9
Discarded Dinghy Oar
Skull of Gold Coins
Pile of Treasured Tomes
Stolen Aztec Coin
Space Shuttle Model
Spacetime Ship Key
Pilfered Ornate Hilt
Tattered and Bloody Pirate Flag
Space Pirate Map
Ziara Privateer Third Map Piece
Ytiva Privateer First Map Piece
Ytiva Privateer Second Map Piece
Ytiva Privateer Third Map Piece
Ytiva Privateer Fourth Map Piece
Ytiva Privateer Treasure Location Map Piece
Shadowglen Privateer First Map Piece
Shadowglen Privateer Second Map Piece
Shadowglen Privateer Third Map Piece
Shadowglen Privateer Treasure Location Map Piece
Ziara Privateer First Map Piece
Ziara Privateer Treasure Location Map Piece
Shadowglen Privateer Fourth Map Piece
Ziara Privateer Fourth Map Piece
Ziara Privateer Second Map Piece
A Pirates Guide to Swashing Buckles and Bucaneering
Underground Vault Key
Pirate Treasure Map
Bundle of Old Maps
Salty Chart Pieces
Desert Pirate Map
Island Pirate Map
Riverside Pirate Maps
Spirited Pirate Map
Dangerous Pirate Map
Trail of Pilfered Jewels
Arctic Pirate Map
Book of Sea Shanties
Letter of Traitorous Origin
Surrender Made Easy
Build Your Own Spaceship
Actually Airborn Almanac of Airships
Sneak Thief Pick Set
Pirate Treasure Chest
Box of Space Dust
Box of Untold Secrets
Pilfered Silk and Jewels
Galactic Empress Crown
Galactic Empress Chained Ring
Pile of Sparkling Space Dust
Cloud of Nebulous Space Dust
Gilded Drinking Flask
Belted Glass Drinking Flask
Jar of Dirt
Icy Hot Shot
Swirling Galaxy Cocktail
Aurora Bora Shot
Eye Catching Aurora Borealis Shard
Aurora Vesnali Egg