[b]DACYIRA SPACE, PIRATE VESSEL LITTLE PRINCESS[/b] --- Marco certainly did gawk, though only for a moment. In his years he had seen all manner of Pirates, ones with no limbs, ones with extra limbs, heck even once he witnessed a Pirate vessel commanded by a cat, or rather a man who was mentally ill enough he thought the cat was giving him orders. Yet in all that time he had never seen a vessel commanded by a girl, especially one whom Marco wondered would even be allowed to gamble on most worlds. Still he wiped the confusion off his face as soon as it came and responded, “Well that would be a twist wouldn't it? Though I venture it would be more than a little disappointing, especially for me.” He took his seat and Marco thought on the words, to be honest the prospect was unsettling to Marco, to become another body just floating out there. Dead like all the rest. Dead and gone being a fool like always Mira would say. It was at that Marco decided he had no choice but to live, if only to deny Mira the satisfaction of being rid of him. Marco coughed to clear his throat and looked around, all manner of men sat at the table, and all manner of men had been seen around the ship. Still they all shared a common thread, none looked particularly like Pirates. Marco didn’t expect a crew this well organized, nor a ship this powerful. That in of itself reassured him they would be reasonable, but made him strangely uneasy. Pirates were usually people driven to desperation, but for these people it was a more than that. He finally began, “It seems obvious enough why am I here, the ASM, and by extension the IMIB wants its cargo back. However, I am not here to issue empty threats and moral pressures like some high minded and suicidal priest. The IMIB may publish videos of pirates being executed and their ships being destroyed, but the reality is such endeavors are hardly profitable and are usually reserved for last resorts.” Marco paused for a moment; the Pirates likely knew that already and were prepared for what he would say next. He adjusted his seat and continued, “As a result of that I came here myself to extend an offer, we give you a substantial monthly payment in any base currency you desire, and you leave IMIB trade routes alone. As for the cargo you currently have, well that is problematic. You are probably aware now that most of that shipment was rhodium, irrelevant to me. Feel free to keep it, but I can only guarantee a deal if the secure canisters in crates 45-55 are returned. You no doubt know what’s in them, and why the IMIB isn't precisely allowed to have it under Earth law, doubtless the idea of corporations building high grade fusion bombs would endanger our position there. So… On that front I can also advance you your first payment within the hour, with another follow up later this month, to keep that information a secret.” Marco looked around, he had made his offer and he scarcely knew how these pirates would react, people stealing to feed themselves were one thing, they were predictable, even if irrational. These people however, Marco could only rely on their rational thinking, and even that came with dangers. A thinking enemy is the most dangerous one, because he could truly be unpredictable if he, or she in this matter, chose to be. The thought threw him off balance so Marco decided to fall back on the one constant of life, and pulled out his flask, a little more than half full by the weight of it. He was about to drink when he paused and spoke before the pirates were done thinking on his offer, “I was almost rude, anyone up for a drink?” He held out the intricate flask and smiled. [b]DACYIRA HIGH ORBIT, LOGISTICS STATION[/b] --- The station bustled with people, it could be thought of as small given the crowd in the cramped control room but in reality it was an enormous construct with well over seven hundred occupants. The control room was lit almost entirely by the cold light of screens, the central one displaying a vast hologram of the planet, outlining ASM operations. Jason looked on it all from his chair at the highest point of the circular room, a raised seat opposite from the wall that housed the door. He was tired from a longer day than usual, his grey hair rested over his eyes but he felt powerless to prevent it. It was then a call came onto his screen, he didn’t have the chance to dismiss it, a priority transmission, never a good thing. The woman’s face was the same one who always called on the priority channel, Mira Comb. She began, “Director I need your station to relay an order to airbase 12A.” Jason adjusted his seat so that he was perfectly upright and swept his hair which stretched down to his ears away and responded, “Yes ma’am what do you want me to relay?” Mira spoke with an air of sad disappointment Jason had not often heard, “We lost men on the last convoy that was ambushed, I intend to retaliate.” Before she could tell him the order Jason spoke out, Ma’am you know that any lethal action must be approved by Mister Astani, I can’t relay the order without his say so.” Mira sighed and looked at him in a way that seemed more direct than it had before, even through the screen Jason was terrified by that glare, “Director, I do not intend to use lethal force. Marco is off dealing with another problem and so it is left to me to deal with this one. While lethal force can be effective I wouldn't even use it here if I could. What I meant to say before you cut me short is that you are to relay the order for our transports at 12A to load capsaicin and disperse it over the following areas.” Jason noticed the information she sent, all areas known to be populated by natives, he never understood the war with the natives, then again it was more of a massacre. He replied with sadness in his voice, “Those areas are inhabited, wont that hurt non combatants?” Mira smiled and replied coldly, “That is the point Director.” With that the transmission closed and Jason relayed the orders, he knew that what he did was wrong but his salary was more important than his morals for now.