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   Chapter 148 No.148

The Galaxii Series Omnibus 1 By Christina Engela Characters: 6551

Updated: 2018-06-30 19:01


As time went by, the Corsairs made regular forays into Imperial space – hijacking and stealing small ships and loderunners, attacking small settlements and under-defended outposts – but their own base remained a mystery. Rumors, myths and legends grew around them. The Corsairs' home was known only as Turtle Island, named so after the mythical island colonized by Earth buccaneers in the 17th century. At first, the Corsairs were really only bothersome, merely poking and prodding at the outskirts of the outermost colonies. Later, they became bolder and bolder still until each passing year marked increased incidence of pirate attack. Eventually however, they would rise to become the single biggest threat the Terran Empire had faced since the Ruminarii.

It had always been a point of interest to astro-anthropologists and stellar economists how such 'vampire economies' developed, subsisting off detached, larger, more conventional economies. In this case, trade agreements would've been impractical because the very notion implied the Corsairs had something to actually trade in exchange for goods and services, which was untrue.

The Corsair economy was outwardly only a one way street – from outside, in. Piracy was their commerce. This form of replenishment and acquisition created among the Corsairs a mindset of 'there's plenty more where that came from', encouraging among the orphaned colonists the consumerist mindset, but combining it with a philosophy if you will, of entitlement. It became theirs because they could take it – and because they did. The Corsairs resented the Terrans because to them, the Terrans were the 'haves' – and they were the 'have-nots'. The Corsairs had a need and were smart enough and strong enough to take what they wanted – and of course, were prepared to fight for it. The Corsairs also no longer viewed themselves as being beholden to Earth or to other people from Earth, but as a separate society, a predator soc

er.

The ships of Earth paused, holding orbit over the planet. On Meradinis, the populace held its breath and prepared to meet the expected airborne invasion. The Corsair's strength had been their fleet, and the scant ground forces would offer little noteworthy resistance to a well-disciplined landing force of Star Marines, as Imperial troop-landers delivered them to the surface, while fighter squadrons provided total air-cover.

In the capital city of Tortuga below, in the Black Palace, the man known as the Patron – Martel the Mighty, ruler of this dark world – had packed his coffers and was now also, presumably, making good his escape. For the Corsair elite and ruling class – those whose hands were literally dripping with blood and who had profited from the bloodshed and violence that had terrorized dozens of worlds – escape was the only option left, and he would not be the only one to mount an escape attempt, nor be the only one to succeed. For years to come there would be countless bounties offered on missing prominent Corsairs that had slipped through the net, with the occasional report of so-and-so being spotted on some or other rim world, presumably sporting a new beard and a pair of sunglasses – which might have raised a few eyebrows in the case of the many female Corsairs.

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