To Feed the Worm God

[Noth Squadron]

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BASEL ROCK
Omega-55

Frigid cold. That is how Basel Rock felt at this hour. Heating was often considered a luxury best reserved for areas of importance on this carved asteroid. Naturally, the bar was not one of them. The few residents who spent their time idling with a drink in hand were usually raiders who had just finished their runs and the superiors that no one who is less than them would dare question.

The Bar, Basel Rock

Most of them tend to keep to themselves, unless they are part of the same wing, family or sect. One such case would be the recently arrived "Noth Squadron", who often receive bad reputation for their straightforward thinking and reckless tactics. Such gossip tends to originate from the much older, local thralls known as "Drudes" -- fans of much quieter tactics executed on enemy ships passing through Skagerrak Planetary Fragments. They are reveled for silencing scouts, explorers and stranded patrols, thus keeping The Rock's location a secret.

It didn't take long for the two groups to develop some sort of rivalry. Those who would rise up to the challenge and prove themselves worthy were promised a serious promotion, although such privilege is not usually attributed multiple individuals at once. "We can't all be Commanders and Admirals", they say.

Dirk Madron, more commonly known as "One" or "The Baron" had a taste of what real authority was like -- once, in a past life. "It felt good", he told himself many times since, trying to replicate that feeling with every order thrown around within the confines of his family. And so he wanted more of it.

Smoke invaded his lungs through the filter of a cigar, followed by the soothing feeling of nicotine making its way through his body. It was as if all the bad thoughts vanished. The stress of having to constantly keep a seemingly sinking ship afloat was gone, taken by the Void.

"Soon." -- dim, cold light reflected off of Dirk's watch as he glanced at the time. It was a bit past lunch. Both Four and Twenty-Nine should have arrived by now.

Compared to other Noth Pilots, Dirk was a lot less active in space. Managing resources, constant infighting and the occasional challenge to his imaginary "throne" had stolen a good portion of his time. To top it off, Basel Rock tolerated the Squadron simply because they were good at sourcing goods. Should ever cease to be for any reason, they'd be without a home in no time.

That is why a meeting with the family's leading experts in chemical terrorism and chemical manipulation was so important. Table eight was already reserved for the day, so waiting was the best thing Dirk could do.

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