Voidhawk

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“That be a pretty story, boy-o! Good enough to earn you a drink!”

“I don’t need a drink, Kragor. I need you!” The man retorted. He looked at his empty beer stein before relenting, “Okay, I seem to be needing a drink as well.”

Kragor, a dwarf in his prime, guffawed and reached over the bar to slap Dexter on the shoulder. He swept away the ale stein and returned it a moment later with a fresh head of foam. “You mean to say you hauled a ghost ship — a trader at that — with one of them Federation Gnats? Might be you’ve spent too much time in the void.”

“Might be,” Dexter admitted, “but I did it! I hid it good too… in the Playground. Fouled my air up, but I made it back.”

Kragor raised an eyebrow and made a noncommittal noise in his throat that Dexter took to be encouragement.

“It’s been dead to the void for a long time,” Dexter said after a fresh drink. “And it’s been through a lot as well, but she’s still got some good bones to her.”

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