<span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 18pt;"><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: georgia;"><strong>A</strong></span></span><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 12pt;"><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: georgia;">ll manner of things can go wrong on a job. Yeah, it'd be shiny if things went according to plan. Make good on your end of the deal, make bank, go about your business. Seems simple enough, don’t it? Truth is, though, things are rarely that simple. Alliance patrols, swindlers, bandits, reavers, and businesses both big and small could all be poised to ruin an otherwise perfectly good week. No matter how fast your boat, now matter how good your crew, every time you leave atmo you're always just... <br/><br/></span></span><div align="center"><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 36pt;"><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: georgia;"><strong><em>Gamblin' in the Black</em></strong></span></span></div><hr/><br/><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 20pt;"><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: verdana;"><strong>Chapter 1: No Good Deed...</strong></span></span><br/><br/><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 18pt;"><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: georgia;"><strong>A</strong></span></span><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 12pt;"><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: georgia;">s the broadwave explained, the Alliance government used Miranda as a testing ground for a chemical agent they call "Pax." The Pax was supposed to calm the population and weed out aggression... make the citizens easy to control. Well, it worked. It worked so well, in fact, that Miranda's thirty million inhabitants simply laid down and died, so passive that they couldn't even be bothered to breathe - to live. All except for a small percentage who became insanely aggressive and violent; they became reavers. <br/><br/><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 18pt;"><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: georgia;"><strong>W</strong></span></span>hat are reavers? To the people of the core worlds, reavers are a campfire tale and bedtime story to frighten small children; to the people of the border worlds and colonies, reavers are very real. Once believed by most of the 'verse to be men that went insane at the edge of space and became savage, it is now known that reavers were once the citizens of Miranda, turned into hellish monsters by the Alliance. Still there are those who would believe the lies propagated by the Anglo-Sino Alliance government, insisting that the Miranda broadwave was an elaborate hoax put on by Independence sympathizers designed to portray the Alliance as a tyrannical government and discredit them in the eyes of the 'verse in the hopes of inciting rebellion and instigating another war for Independence.<br/><br/><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 18pt;"><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: georgia;"><strong>N</strong></span></span>ews of these events has the 'verse buzzing with static as the rumors of rebellion and the whispers of another war against the Alliance filter across the 'verse. In the midst of it all, life goes on...<br/><br/></span></span><hr/><div align="center"><strong><br/>-=Griffin Kingston - talking with Hayes in the engine room - en route to Persephone (http://24.media.tumblr.com/kAmWItOW2hag5sjmkSfXnjM5o1_500.jpg)=-</strong></div><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 18pt;"><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: georgia;"><strong>O</strong></span></span><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 12pt;"><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: georgia;">ne hundred and thirty tons of titanium, steel, and alloy creased effortlessly through the inky dark of space, a tiny speck of light in an unfathomable sea of black. The markings (http://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/archive/8/89/20110613054643!The_Gamble.jpg) on the ship's hull designated her as <em>The Gamble</em>, a Dragonfly class mid-bulk transport vessel, a descendant of the famed Firefly class. It was the crew of such a ship that had discovered and broadcast the truth regarding Miranda and it's thirty million plus inhabitants. The broadwave had been sent through the cortex, reaching every person in the 'verse with a receiver, from the upper crust politician on Sihnon and Londinium right down to the lowliest mud farmer on Higgins' Moon... and it was the talk that was buzzing in everyone's ear. <br/><br/><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 18pt;"><strong>"H</strong></span>ow's it looking down there, Hayes? Is she salvageable? Please tell me she's salvageable cause I can ill afford a whole gorram engine," asked the ships captain, his ruggedly handsome face twisted with worry. The dark skin of his squared jaw was covered in an even darker blanket of stubble that threatened to become a beard if he didn't have a shave soon. As captain of the ship, Griffin Kingston was a skilled and confident leader, but he knew next to nothing when it came to the mechanics of the ship. Fortunately for Griff, Hayes was a whiz mechanic who had pulled them through her fair share of scrapes since she joined his crew two and a half years ago. <br/><br/><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 18pt;"><strong>T</strong></span>hanks to a faulty engine, <em>The Gamble</em> had been forced to throttle down to cruising speeds on the last leg of it's return trip to Persephone (http://i1191.photobucket.com/albums/z466/Corvus269/Projects/TheVerseMap_WhiteSun.gif). Luckily they had just completed a job that led to a couple of small time gigs along the way so they had enough to buy the part needed to make the repairs... so long as the entire engine didn't go bad before they were able to <em>make</em> repairs. <br/><br/><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 18pt;"><strong>H</strong></span>ayes was working on the main engine turbine while Griff hovered over her, muscular arms stretched upwards as he leaned in, gripping a pipe running overhead. His black tank was stained with the remnants of sweat from the work he'd being doing around the ship in preparation for landing and taking on a new job. <em>The Gamble</em> was in need of a good cleaning after hauling it's cargo of 100 Sihnon Coursers - a pure breed of hunting dogs - from Persephone to a rancher on JinagYin (http://i1191.photobucket.com/albums/z466/Corvus269/Projects/TheVerseMap_RedSun.gif). The dogs had made quite a mess of the place while aboard the ship, requiring constant care to feed, water and exercise during the week long trip to JinagYin. The barking and noise was near constant and the whole ship smelled of dog <em>mi tian gohn</em>. After delivering a single cow to the rancher's nephew on New Melbourne a day or so from Jiangyin, they had taken on a single passenger from New Melbourne seeking passage to Persephone. Griff was more than happy to take the little old lady's credits in exchange for a ride back to where he was already headed in the first place; free credits, as far as he was concerned, and no man in his right mind would pass up free credits.<br/><br/><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 18pt;"><strong>T</strong></span>he first order of business once they docked at Persephone's famed Eavesdown Docks was to locate and purchase the part needed to repair the engine, provided the engine held together that long. The rest of the crew would have a few hours of shore leave to do whatever tickled their fancy while Griff and his first officer, Sasha Dearing, checked with one of their contacts in the hopes of procuring more work. They would need to refuel and resupply whatever they could manage before setting off on their next job, whatever that might be.</span></span>