The planet Yurodyl could be seen glowing through the wall length window that occupied the front of the cockpit. The planet’s bright oceans and luscious forests beckoned the men aboard the ship forth, enticing them with the idea of vacation. The astro was very famous for its peaceful ways. They did not bother themselves with war or piracy, not even with themselves. They were purely economic. A trading hub for entire Lyra 49 galaxy, every single type of good passed through the hands of the Yurodylites. War had never touched the planet, or its people. Merchants were kings to the people of Yurodyl, bringing in every single luxury from all across the galaxy.
The ship hovering above the planet was the F.T.U. trading frigate, Jar’ De Taecht, or “Galactic Surfer” in Medrian, the language of the ancient inhabitants of Yurodyl. The ship was rather large for a simple trading vessel, spanning 345 feet in length and having enough cargo space to carry 1000 elephants’ worth of goods. What the crew transported varied depending on the time and the employer. Sometimes they were contracted through the Union to carry simple spices and clothing between two systems. Other times they were hired by rebels to sneak troops and weapons onto the oppressors’ main bases. The Free Trade Union had many business partners and being a “merchant” had many risks.
Lokir Herkul, the captain of the Surfer , stood at the helm of his mighty ship, his blue robes of gold trim hanging loosely over a full set of Gra’ Morian armor. His sapphire eyes stared at the planet ahead of him. His face was burden with scars and scorch marks, matching similar ones on his robes and armor. His crew looked no better than he, their FTU uniforms had been abandoned for simple Telkish cloaks and Pardiun bracers and shin guards. Some were severely wounded, bullet holes riddling their arms and legs, others with slashes across their chests. The first mate, Rabik Kem, bore an eyepatch over his left eye. His other eye held a red iris, the trademark stare of the reptilian race of the Shadix system. Kem’s grayish-blue scales were bloodied and bandaged, crudely mind you; giving him the appearance of a corpse, but his spark could still be seen in his red eye.
“We made it Lokir. The warp drive wasn’t too broken I would guess, sir. The men need to be properly taken care of. The Nemed monk wasn’t all that great a doctor as he led himself to be. The FTU said they would meet us here didn’t they?” Kem looked around after his status update; the appearance of any FTU ship missing from the portrait of Yurodyl that was the window. “We have been waiting for over an hour and still no sign of Kashyl. We have to inform the Chancellor of Hoq’s fleet, otherwise-.” The wounded lizard was cut short by Lokir’s swift hand rising up to signal silence. Lokir brought his hand back down onto the computers that stood before him. He did not turn to his first mate when he spoke.
“I know damn good and well how long we have been waiting here, sa’rim. Kashyl may not be here but we still have a job to do. We have to go directly to the First Fleet before they commit genocide on innocents. Silence! I have not given you permission to speak. Kashyl was the only commander who knew the truth, I know. But despite our bounty, we still have to get to the Chancellor.”