"Okay, I got us a job. Some asshole out on the Sierra Madre Line with a cascading NHP and delusions of grandeur. Pay's 2000 manna each." Adelaide Simmer, callsign Empress, stood on the bridge of her ship, addressing her crew.
Okay, "bridge" might be doing a lot of heavy lifting given that the ship was a patched-together cargo hauler with barely enough room for three mechs and her two crew. Breaking away from her mother in the Baronies had been... tough. The lights overhead dimmed for a moment.
Renna Faraday, callsign Knight, folded her arms and made Adelaide wish she'd worn her platform boots. Knight towered over her. "2000 each is surprisingly generous for a tinpot dictator gig. What gives?"
"Let me guess," said Quinn Calliope, callsign Jester, smirking as always. "No questions asked, Princess?"
"That's right," said Adelaide. "No complaining about it. This is the first job we've had in a month, we're taking it. That's an order. And stop calling me Princess."
"You got it, Princess!"
"As you wish, Princess."
"Goddamn it."
