On the Moons of Morocco Prime

[Sgt. Ian MacBrooke]

     An unusually chilly mist hangs over the port city of Minas Barrbossa. I say unusually chilly because most mornings it has already become hot and sticky by the third hour of the watch. Still, most don't take notice of the cooler temps and precede about their daily routines of fishmongery and the hawking of their exotic wares. We have a saying around Minas Barrbossa...can't bring it to mind just now though. I've been having this issue since my run-in with 'Kippers and Bosch' last month. I'll learn to wear head gear of some sort one day.
     Oh, hello there by the way. My name is Sgt. Ian MacBrooke, retired from so many services. This little ghetto cafe' I'm currently sitting outside of is Maddy's Trinket Box, home of many 'expatriated' warmongers from across the galaxy. Not quite officially our establishment, but more home than others and most of us are quite willing to wreck interlopers threatening the 'old girl' from outside. My loft is the one on the left on the fourth story. All the rooms for let have balconies, so you can't really judge by that. Nice little French hostelry with a sporting man's tatty decor inside. Maddy, of Trinket Box fame, passed from our ken a number of years ago and her daughter Lily took over the running of our home.
     The shipyard, wherein is the greatest congregation of business outside the Min-Barr Square, is where I'm off to this chilly morning to check on the state of my 'boat' and the current cache of supplies...

[Sgt. Ian MacBrooke]

     Taking in the sights, the sounds and the smells of this port always gives me such a thrill. So much like home with the slight breeze carrying the salty brine, the lapping splash of the waves and the sunlight upon the water sparkling like jewels. As I take the last corner before getting to the wharf where I'll find my 'boat', I stop and grab a bushel of apples shipped here from Earth. My crew loves these shiny, little red lovelies. Ah, there she is, in all her glory...the Sun Skipper Class pleasure yacht, Hyperion's Cutlass...
     Technically speaking, I'm not a 'Captain'. Sure, I own and 'captain' the Cutlass, but I have a crew just as disgusted with officer types as I am. Enlisted and non-comms are easier to get along with and I run my 'boat' like the seasoned color sargent I once was and the crew all have military backgrounds, so it all works out. She is a pretty bit of 'sharkbait'...
     Walking the length of the wharf, I give her a quick once over noting all of her visible traits and falling for her again as I always do. At two hundred ninety-two feet with a draft of eleven, the Cutlass was first designed as a blockade runner for the off-planet United Nations as a consulate transport. With a design based on ancient Greek warships, her sleek lines cut through 'waters' and 'aethers' alike. Due to the lateness of the production application and monetary delays, only one was built before the end of the Interplanetary Conflicts and she was never put into service.

[Arabella Porter]

I'd love to hear more about your personal character!!! continue!