A LOPER TALE

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Welsh Halfwit
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Re: A LOPER TALE

Post by Welsh Halfwit »

67

REGULATIONS

The ship slowed from velocity two on the edge of the six planet system, three hours out from Cora II as she came to where several of her crew had begun to call home base over the last year and a half. The Frigate’s repair list had been sent ahead to the new Council stores on the planet, who’d then relayed the requirements to the main Council base after consulting the local suppliers for what they could provide. Usually the local suppliers were more expensive than the Council direct supplies by, of course, they were right there and available and it helped keep colonists in work with money in their pockets. Hawle sometimes joked that the Loper was providing about three percent of the Colony’s annual gross domestic product and, from the reactions he tended to get from the remark, he didn’t think he was far off.

On the bridge, Raven held court as the Commander was in his office, grimacing at the repair bill. She didn’t turn around as she watched the distant planet on the screen, now complete again after the damaged camera had been repaired. “Dawton,” she advised, “Contact Cora II and tell them we’re on our way in and expecting the usual.”
“Aye, sir,” the Human replied. “U.S.C. Loper to Cora II Control, come in please.” He smiled and the watching Raitchian, Match, guessed he was talking to Sophia, the Mican operative who’d expressed an interest in him before they’d left. “Thank you, ‘Cora II’,” Dawton replied to the voice the others hadn’t heard. “Our E.T.A. is about three hours so we’ll need the standard welcome Soph… uh, control. We’ll be ready.” He waited for her to cut the line before circling around to face the central station and the back of Raven’s head. “The Patrol ship ‘Cortain’ will be meeting us to carry out the usual checks, Commander.”
Raven nodded. It had become the standard for incoming ships to be inspected since the events of last year, when insurgents had attempted an assassination. Now incoming ships were inspected by a senior member of the Colonial Militia or they would be refused permission to stay in orbit or land on the planet. It slowed things up but it was done free of charge and people understood the reason as ‘no-one knew’ who was responsible and they could come back.

It wasn’t just the finances Hawle was looking over at the moment but Gilly Klass’s résumé as well. It seemed she’d come out from the home world three years back on a scholarship to the colony University in Computer sciences and, after finishing second in her class, had gone to work for the weather control group. It was impressive, he reckoned, how impressed Harvey was with someone who hadn’t finished top of her class. Groal was also impressed, apparently. It was setting his ears twitching. It was why he’d called her up to see him and she knocked on the passageway door. He decided he’d need to point out the door ‘booper’ later. He pressed a button on his desk and allowed her to enter. “Ah,” he said in a friendly way, “Gilly, come in.”
“Um,” she said uncertainly, stepping over the ‘parapet’ and entering his little castle, “thank you sir,” she said.
“Captain will suffice, generally,” he told her. “I’ve been looking over your Curriculum Vitae,” he told her, giving it a little wave as he said it. “It’s quite impressive, if brief. Especially in the ‘jobs’ section.” He invited her to take a seat. “I did University.” He grimaced slightly. “I remember the jobs I had to do to afford it, Gilly. Especially the rent.” He glanced at the forms again. “I don’t see any mention of those here.”
Gilly squirmed slightly. “I, uh… I come from a fairly well-off family,” she admitted. “It’s, uh, not something I tend to announce.” She reached an arm around to the back of her head to scratch her neck. “It affects how people look at me,” she continued, showing a glimpse of her back teeth as she seemed ashamed of the fact.
“Hmm,” Hawle agreed. He’d had family problems at times. Still… “Not even a job for fun?”
“Oh, there were those,” she told him. “But I tended not to list them as they were ‘cash in hand’, so to speak.”
“Of course,” Hawle smiled. “People and companies unspecified who didn’t want things seen to easily, should we say?” He mounted his muzzle on his finger knuckles. “Must be why you only finished second in your year and still got a top Government job.” He relaxed slightly. “And now you’re here. On my ship.” He tapped on a padd and slid it across to her.
“What’s this, si… uh, Captain?”
“A civilian contract,” Hawle said languidly, pushing his chest forward as he put his hands behind his head. “See, I know you were looking to get into the Council Command ranks but there’s just… I’ll be honest with you, Gilly. You’ve impressed both my Chief Engineer and one of the best Computer specialists I know of far more than I’d expect someone who finished SECOND in their class would do. Now,” he allowed, “it may well just be me being paranoid but we have been dealing with Admiral Roebuck recently…”
Gilly laughed. “You think I’m a plant,” she gasped.
“Well, not being perfect is an established spy tactic,” Hawle told her. “Either way, it means I can’t really authorise your entry into the Council ranks as that would get you certain security access. Physical security access, I mean. Access via computers I’m prepared to risk as there’s only two of you who could get in and,” he clicked his tongue, “it’s not likely to be Harvey, is it?”
“I can leave when we get to the planet,” Gilly told him, standing to leave.
“Why,” Hawle asked her. “I don’t want you to.”
She looked a little confused. “But you… don’t trust me?”
“Who said that,” the Commander asked innocently. “I certainly didn’t. Look, if I sent you to the Council and got you enrolled, and you turned out to be one of Roebuck’s people, I’d end up getting it in the neck. As it is, though, I have absolutely no objection to you being here, though.
You’re obviously proficient and I’d be a fool not to keep you, hence why I’m offering you a contract that’s about seven percent more than Harvey makes. You wouldn’t gain access to areas like munitions storage, of course but why would an I.T. specialist need that? Plus, if you ARE an operative for him I can use that to pass along unofficial messages.”
“I am NOT…”
Hawle smirked. “Almost certainly not,” he agreed. “But, as Roebuck might put it, it pays to be paranoid around strangers.”
Ginny smirked. “My mother used to say that to me all the time.” She inclined her head slightly. “She was right, too.”
“Mother or ‘uncle’,” Hawle queried comically.
Now Ginny actually whooped, the glint of joy in her eye. “My only Uncle’s doing ten in Rowtville State for racketeering.” She grimaced. “Trusted a newcomer. Undercover Cop.”
“You left that off the résumé too,” Hawle admonished. “Never mind.” He offered her the padd again. “Would you like to sign? I understand Cedar Kirkwall gives vouchers for new crew.”
She laughed. And signed.
Commander Hawle. U.S.C. Loper. By the talented DDeer.
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Re: A LOPER TALE

Post by Harry Johnathan »

Yay, more space cops.
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Re: A LOPER TALE

Post by Amazee Dayzee »

This is why Elena likes Hawle so much. Because he is such a jokester some times! She can't get enough of that. :mrgreen:
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Re: A LOPER TALE

Post by Welsh Halfwit »

68

INSPECTION

The Militia ship closed to within a thousand kilometres of the Loper’s starboard side and Hawle dusted imaginary dust from himself as the search Officers prepared to teleport aboard. He was certain there would be a more thorough search than usual this time, due to the events of the last fortnight that nobody had been told about so obviously knew all about. With Groal still assisting the Engineering team doing what they could to repair the hull damage, Deputy Chief Sikly was going to be the one escorting the representative’s people around and Hawle wondered where he’d gotten the oil stained top from being as how there wasn’t any oil on the ship bar Doctor Fuze’s car in the hold. “Good to see you can walk this way up,” he told the Lieutenant.
“I don’t spend that much time on the ceiling, do I? Oop, incoming gentry,” Sikly replied as the teleport chief engaged the system, bringing across a crew of locals.
“Commander Hawle,” the leader said, stepping off the pad without requesting permission. Hawle thought of the hard faced Mican as a career Officer who wanted to have had a better career to gloat over. His boots were too brightly polished and his buttons too shiny for someone who didn’t take impressive pride in polishing them and not getting them dirty.
“Correct, Colonel Malann,” Hawle replied drily, using the name he’d been told he could expect. “We’re ready for the inspection.”
“I see you’ve taken more than your usual amount of damage,” the Colonel said, trying to be chatty.
“Hmm,” Hawle replied, “we had an argument with a dreadnought. It did a fair amount of damage to us and two other ships.”
“And what did you do,” he asked.
“We won. And we have the damage to prove it. The repair companies will make a pretty coin this time. Shall I take you to the bridge whilst Engineer Sikly escorts your team wherever they need to see?”
“No, I’ll be with them,” the Colonel said, adjusting his lapels. “You, apparently, have one of the better helm officers in the sector so I’m hardly needed until the last ten minutes or so. Just advise them not to go over half impulse.”

Hawle commed up to Raven to tell her of the instructions and stopped in to Cedars’ pantry for a quick snack as the Chef seemed to be packing up his supplies. “Knocking off time,” Hawle asked.
“Mmm,” the Mican replied, “been here eight hours,” he advised, putting the last few meals in the machines, which would heat them before dispensing whenever they were requested. “About time I clocked off. Here.” He passed over a Three Grain salad that he’d been about to put in the machine. “Freebie.”
“Thanks,” Hawle replied before half grinning. “I take it this is the preamble to asking me a favour, eh?” He sat at a table and Cedar joined him.
“Has, uh, Colleen spoken to you,” he asked, slightly nervously, fidgeting with his fingers.
“About you wanting to adopt a Mican orphan and bring him aboard a ship that often gets shot at?” Hawle stabbed leaves with a fork. “No, she’s not mentioned it.” His eye glinted. “Well, maybe once.”
“I, um, take it you, uh, don’t think much of the idea?”
“They don’t all work out like Hav and Callie,” Hawle warned. “You’d need a lot of support, both here and on the colony. What would the child do when you were on shift, for example? If they don’t want to help you out, I mean?”
“I, err… I don’t know.” the Chef admitted. “I’d hope I could sort things out…”
“Take it from someone with a large family, you’ve got to have those answers ready before you start. They’ll ask, you know? Even though you’ll tell them that your Uncle will be able to help you by looking after the child when the Commanding Officer decides it’s too dangerous for them to come on the trip. I take it you’ve talked about it with him, by the way?” Hawle took another forkful of food.
“I… I haven’t had a chance to yet… But I will.”
“Hmmph,” Hawle said. “No wonder he was surprised then I asked him about it.”
“You what?”
“Well,” Hawle shrugged, “I had figured you’d have spoken with him about it. He seems to be all for it, by the way. Seems being a prisoner for fifteen years establishes a feeling of community. HE’D be ineligible due to age, of course, but if you were to be primary adopter, I doubt President Dawson could say no, especially with the support letter I’m planning on sending.” He finished up his light meal. “When we’re docked, you might want to get the ball rolling, Cedar. And good luck.”
“Per...uh… Permission to hug you, sir?”
“Well, you’re not Colleen or Elena so… Meh, who’s going to know,” he declared, standing up. The Mican locked in a hug around Hawle’s upper chest. “OK,” he said, after a minute, “that’s probably long enough. I’ve got to go to the bridge and they might just notice a cling on.”

“Does the bridge normally require the presence of a cleaner,” the Colonel said as he looked around at the variety of species in the room.
“No,” Raven replied, talking as the Commander hadn’t got there yet, “but he has dispensation to be here from the Captain. He’s off duty but his presence means we have less need to bother the overworked Engineers if something goes wrong.”
“Nicely explained,” Hawle said quietly as he arrived.
“As we practised,” Raven whispered back. “Why do you smell of Cedar?”
“All right,” the Colonel declared, nodding to the Captain, “as the ship has passed inspection and the weapons are offline, we’ll put her into a parking orbit. Ahead one quarter.”
Sarah obligingly followed all the directions, wondering who this ‘we’ was the Colonel was talking about as she was doing all the work. Eventually the ship settled into the required position above the capital and Chapston settled them into stable orbit - or, as she put it, she ‘put the handbrake on’.
“That all seems satisfactory,” Malann remarked.
“More than,” Hawle muttered, looking at the display of Colonial time and reasoning that he could probably meet Elena right at the end of her Political surgery hours if he dressed up now.
“You’ll be headed down, then,” Raven asked. “Funny how you always get first rotation off the ship, sir,” she winked.
“A complete mystery,” Hawle replied. “Must be the R.H.I.P. effect.” Rank, he thought to himself, definitely DOES have it’s privileges.
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Re: A LOPER TALE

Post by Amazee Dayzee »

Love how you are making this story come together Welsh! It is really good!
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Re: A LOPER TALE

Post by Welsh Halfwit »

69

MEET THE WITNESS

Rodin Loveran jumped up as the doorbell rang and ran out of the living room before her |Grandmother could even get off the sofa where she’d been losing to Marin in a game of Chess. Her ears drooped behind her as she ran and jumped for the door handle to open it. She’d inherited her nasal skills from her Canine grandfather and had worked out she knew at least one of the scents a few seconds before they’d pressed the button. She didn’t know the other but she’d worked out it was a Celican but she wasn’t the one that interested her right at the moment and she did her best to leap up as the door opened.

Groal laughed and caught her in a hug as the Greyfur looked on impassively. Groal gave the child a kiss on the forehead. “You appear to have caught something,” the female said as Rodin hugged her Uncle Groal.
“Of course,” Groal said, talking about the small green and black wearing lump attached to his chest before she chastely kissed him on the mouth. “Rodin, this is Katara. Katara, this is Rodin.” A small Lappinean missile with snow white fur attached itself to his leg. “And this,” he added, shifting Rodin to one arm so he could pick Marin up with the other, “is Marin.”
The youngest joined in the hug and took a kiss before looking to Katara. “Who’re you,” she asked.
“Katara,” the Vixen replied. She shrugged. “You can call me Kat if you like.”
Marin put a finger to her muzzle. “Don’ like Cats much,” she admitted before her eyes brightened. “I’ll call you Ara!”
Katara shrugged. “It’ll do,” she grumbled. “We coming in?”
“Only when invited,” a smooth voice said, heralding the appearance of Salla as Rodin sniffed Groal’s neck and declared him still a Smellican.

Katara sized the female up. She didn’t look much, this grasseater, but there was something hidden behind the eyes that told her this Lappinean was made of more. She’d been tough enough to survive fifteen years in a ‘settlement camp from heck’ and still seemed fit and able. The possibility of good genes existed. Obviously someone had thought so. The cubs were crossbreeds with more than two species in their genomes but there was enough to tell the elder had supplied some of the DNA. “Then you should invite us,” she replied smoothly.
“As his guest,” Salla said, “you can come in.”
“I like your fur colour,” Katara whispered in an aside to Rodin. The Greyfur child giggled as Katara led the way in past Salla.

Katara sniffed at the mixed scents as she looked around the main room. It struck her as repurposed Militia chic. A cheap, thin, carpet under foor after she’d taken her boots off in the hallway and flexed her toes. A three piece suite that looked like it had been relocated from a charity shop. Cheap kitchen implements and an out of date vid system. She couldn’t help but sneer slightly, an expression she knew the old timer had spotted after kissing Groal fully on the mouth. And, probably, in it too. “Nice place you have here,” she said.
“It’s home,” Salla replied. “Things are still tough but it’s mine and no-one’s keeping me locked in here.”
“I can see that,” Katara said, stepping to look at the immaculate little garden out the back where several small areas of vegetables were being grown. “Good garden.”
“Yes,” Salla replied languidly as she took up a seat on the settee. “I’m a pro grasseater,” she added with a sly grin. “We like to try our own produce.”
“I suppose you do it better.”
“I appreciate the compliment,” Salla said tightly as Groal, ‘assisted’ by his helpers, took his two cases upstairs. He held both cases by the handles and they had the bases by the lower back corner. “What is it you do,” she asked.
“I’m an Engineer in Groal’s team,” Katara replied. “He’s quite impressed as a chief. I’ve not been tempted to attack him once.” She looked out of the window and crossed her arms. “So I needed to see who he was wasting his potential on.”
Katara heard the steel in Salla’s tone as she replied. “Wasting..? Now, look,” Salla responded, standing again and turning the Celican to face her, “I don’t know where you think you have the right to come in here and insult me but if you think I’m going to stand…” She stopped. “Why are you smiling?”
Katara inclined her head towards the fist Salla had made without thinking and the muscle tone that said she’d been a bare second or so’s thought from using it. “That’s the reaction I hoped for,” she said, lightening her tone. “I knew anyone who could snag him had to have courage and steel but I needed to see it.” She offered a hand. “It proves I’m right to be offering my services.”
Salla looked in confusion at the hand. “Services as what,” she asked cautiously, an ear drooped over her left eye.
“You know Celican traditions,” Katara said, still holding out the hand. “I’m going to be your witness.”
Salla gasped, then accepted the hand, pumping it with a show of strength as Rodin and Marin raced back into the room, Marin with a Celican Vixen action figure – Katara recognised it as the Yellow Ranger from a favourite Children’s action show – and Rodin now wearing a blue and purple dress that was just a bit too big for her. “Look what Uncle Karla bought me,” Marin said shrilly, holding up her new toy.
Salla released Katara so she could take the box. She would have complained that the Blue one would have been more appropriate but she knew Marin already had a battered one of those in her bedroom at home so it was fine, despite the violent nature of the show. “It’s good,” she said, wondering where Karla had found it. She looked over Rodin as the girl twirled in her new clothing. A dress, Salla figured, that could only have been bought by a clueless but loving Celican engineer. “It looks beautiful, Rodin,” she said with enthusiasm.
“I think so,” she replied as ‘Ara’ took hold of the box when Marin handed it to her. “Uncle Groal says he’s got your present upstairs,” Rodin added.
“Yellow’s always been my favourite,” Katara assured the child before she looked up to Salla. “If you like I can watch over this pair whilst you go and get what Commander Groal, uh, wishes to give you?”
It took a few seconds for the smile to appear on Salla’s face as she decided. She headed out quickly as Rodin sighed. “I’ll have to turn the volume up,” she said as she returned to her vidgame. Katara found herself playing chess against Marin and the Yellow Ranger.
Katara grinned. “I play to win,” she warned the girl as she set up the pieces.
“Good,” Marin replied, making the first move.
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Re: A LOPER TALE

Post by Amazee Dayzee »

This was a really fun chapter that you put up! I can't wait for more!
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Re: A LOPER TALE

Post by Welsh Halfwit »

70

KISS OFF

On the south side of Cora II’s capital city lay the division called ‘Bellton’ on the latest maps or ‘refugeetown’ in the minds of the long time colonists. It was where they’d been planning a major development for the United Security Council, giving an entire company of troops a place to call home and work but, when a thousand plus illegally detained people had been brought to their attention, the President had offered it to them instead. Now, with the Council building another base in one of the satellite towns – smaller but able to hold five hundred troops at a push – the refugees had begun inveigling their way into their local communities. They even had a member on the colony council since the last election. It wasn’t exactly a high class area but it was functional and the U.S.C. was helping with financing which many colonists appreciated.

A moderately sized Office just off the store front area of the zone served as offices for Elena Davees and her assistant Mercy and it was where she tended to hold her political surgeries with her people and constituents, representing Varkonians, Felines, Canines and everything else as needed. As it was, she was hearing the problems of Miss Tibby Hallorak, the Feline head of the areas secondary school and nodding as the Noir spoke of budget cuts and problems enforcing children to attend and mix with the locals. This was a problem that seemed to keep coming up. Although the locals were, generally, welcoming, the refugee Children were having problems fitting in with them. Children who’d had nothing often saw those who’d had much more as intimidating or targets. The local Police had been brought in on a small number of occasions. “I’ve spoken with the local education commissioner,” she told Miss Hallorak, “and he’s agreed to include Bellton in next seasons’ school soccer league in, um, division two.”
“That’s a start, Miss Davees,” the headmistress agreed, “but we need to go further in getting the children accepted by the locals. Much further.”
Elena nodded. “Unfortunately things take time,” she agreed. “Perhaps, through the medium of sports, they can begin to build bridges of their own? The games last year showed the locals some of what our people can do. Perhaps if you made enquiries with the local gyms and clubs they might be enticed to come down and see the work being done in the schools?”
“Perhaps,” Hallorak allowed, looking at her comm. “In any case, I need to get back to the school.” She stood up. “Parent/Teachers this evening. Have to prepare. Thank you for your time.” She chastely shook Elena’s hand and strutted out, leaving the Pekan to sag at the end of a long day compiling lists of things to bring up at the next council meeting.

The Grey gold furred frame of Mercy appeared in the doorway. The Lappinean with a Canine father had a grim look on her face and Elena groaned. “Who is it now,” she asked. “And what’s the problem?”
“Uh,” Mercy said quietly, “there’s no more meetings but… um… I got a call from the U.S.C. Apparently there’s been an… incident aboard the Loper and, um… Commander Hawle is… Um…” The frown broke into a sly grin as she finished, “in the office, waiting to come in here.”
As soon as Mercy had started talking, Elena had felt a pit open up in her stomach and just get larger and larger as she’d… “what was that last bit again?”
Mercy leaned closer and grinned, showing the teeth she’d inherited from both sides of her parentage. “He’s back a little early, boss, but he’s here.”
Elena gave a relieved laugh. “You..! Have I told you you’re fired this week?”
Mercy thought for a moment. “Not this week, no.”
“Well, you’re fired for this week. Good job tomorrow’s the weekend.” She tapped Mercy’s muzzle top with a pen. “See you after the weekend. And,” she added, straightening herself up, “show him in, would you?”

Time passed, in which Elena brought Aldair up to date with council business and what she’d been doing to spruce up their small house in Bellton, a place which had been intended for the Commander of the Council base and Aldair had listened politely and intently as she’d talked and they’d eaten and discussed things. Now Hawle propped himself up on an elbow and listened. “So Dalmar’s finally decided to pop the question,” Elena asked from the other room, speaking from out-of-sight through the open door.
“He has,” Hawle agreed, “and Sarah’s accepted the proposal. I think a near death experience has influenced the pair of them. What with them, Night seemingly falling for a Micannan she worked on and Groal finding a witness, it’s like I’m Commanding a cruise liner on a spring break cruise.”
“Sounds fun… Did you say Groal’s found a witness?”
“Yeah, a sometimes surly Vixen called Katara. He likes her, she thinks he’s competent enough to not punch. So they’ve gone to meet them today. I hope they’re getting along.”
“I’m sure they are,” Elena replied, before running a little water. “Salla’s not one to give predators an easy path and she does love that big lug.” She poked her head around the door. “I’ve seen the photos,” she added before vanishing again to brush and spit. “How longth’s the thip going to be in dock now?”
“They reckon the repairs will take two weeks. Oh,” he added, pricking his ear up from its’ flopped position, “did I tell you one of my cousins is in the area? Captain Hawthorne Plebar of the U.S.C. Science ship Savval.”
“When’s she coming,” Elena said, stepping back out of the bathroom and turning out the light behind her so he could see her in her full beauty.
“In about a week’s time,” Aldair replied as she sat on the edge of the bed, swung her feet up under the covers that he had held open for her and snuggled in beside him. “I think you’d like her,” he said hopefully. “She’s not nearly as awful as most of my family, Love.”
She gave him a small kiss. “I know that from the files you keep on her career, Aldair.”
He looked offended. “Who told you how to get into my files? I bet it was Harvey, wasn’t it..?”
She put a finger to his lips. “You think I don’t know your password is ‘Baggiezru1e’? You and that soccer club…”
Hawe mumbled something against her finger so she removed it and asked him what he’d said. “I said they call it ‘football’, not soccer, in their part of that world.”
“Pedant,” she remarked, draping an arm onto his shoulder.
“Always, ma’am.”
“You smell like Limmaberries.”
Now it was Hawle’s time to grin. “Must have been the pie that had me at dinner.”
“Crumbs,” she said, stroking his shoulder fur as he reached across to turn out the bedside light. She sighed happily.
Commander Hawle. U.S.C. Loper. By the talented DDeer.
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Re: A LOPER TALE

Post by Amazee Dayzee »

Just like that it looks like the story is over! Thank you for taking us along for the ride on it!
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Re: A LOPER TALE

Post by Welsh Halfwit »

Soon:-

If good men can do evil, can a bad one do good?

SAVRA:- A PIRATES' WORD
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Re: A LOPER TALE

Post by Amazee Dayzee »

Why not? Since a commanding office can have his face shoved into cakes by his crew. XD
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Joined: Sun Mar 17, 2013 3:09 am
Location: Wales, a luverrly land with noisy neighbours.

Re: A LOPER TALE

Post by Welsh Halfwit »

Commander Hawle. U.S.C. Loper. By the talented DDeer.
Kilo - 2-8-3-9-10-2-5
Kilo
Leslie – 4-6-4-5-6-9-7
Leslie
David Campbell - 7 – 8 – 9 – 5 – 4 – 4 – 6
Corp Davidstow 6 - 6 - 7 - 3 - 6 - 6 - 5 (reactions 7 Combat 9)
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