Discovery Gaming Community

Megaera.

One of the Erinyes.

Fitting that a woman whose name is translatable as Jealousy wants that which she does not currently have.

I assume this is a pirate moniker. GEIST will not enquire over any details beyond this point. However, we can make an exception. I hope for everyone's sake that we do not. Not every rabbithole requires an Alice.

Usually we would demand credits, or material compensation for services rendered. However this is the absolute worst time to lay down a ship construction order of any occasion within the last fifty years. We are in the process of recovering from a bloody war that cost us in steel. Blood is replacable – the human body produces four hundred billion platelets per day. The entirety of Sirian history has not produced four hundred billion spacecraft. Iron depends upon the death of stars. Blood merely the death of man. What is a human life compared to a machine? I have myself many men and not enough machines to provide them with roofs, pressure hulls, survival. I must tend to my flock before I do trade with a stranger. Unless that which you offer is more valuable than my family. More than mere credits.

Tell us how your payment is both generous, and, most of all, unique, and we will graft you the first hull that rolls off the production line. Hull Eighty Seven Libra Five. A hull that was intended to be ours. It can yet be yours.

The ball is in your court, strange one. Seduce me. Find me that which I do not yet know I desire, and I will direct you to Vulkan – the master shipwright and finest engineer in the colonies. He will provide you with a chariot that would make Apollo jealous of even you, envious one.

Well?

If you wish to offer the (highly incompetent) Hesse twice of nothing in return for a vessel which will certainly explode around you whilst looking suspiciously like a pile of outdated mining machinery hammered ignominiously together, then you will simply be back to where you started. The Hessians are in an even worse institutional bedlam than we are, having no fixed figurehead. It may interest you that we are the only population in the underworld who sells our spacecraft to -everyone-. We also manufacture the best. Quality is our assurance. And as master craftsmen we have the ability to pick and choose our customers.

I will make no apologies to attending to my own before a petulant deity behaving like an overly aggressive soccer momma awaiting a ticket at the ship licensing office. The wheels of bureaucracy grind slow. You will operate at the speed of mortality or depart our existential plane for one more befitting your vapidity.

Would you care to personalise your order, Madam? I am intrigued by the subject of us negotiating further. You're rather fun.