Call me Marah. No, that’s not a Moby xxxx reference. And no, I don’t like formality, so don’t bother adding Captain onto that. Yes, I’m a woman and yes, I’m a pirate. We do exist, believe it or not.
I used to be an Engineer frigate pilot for the Empire. I’d had quite an impressive career and saved many pilot’s lives. Then everything went sideways when our squad was ambushed by a Jericho taskforce. They slaughtered us. The only reason I survived was due to the emergency life-support systems on my frigate.
I drifted through space for five days. No power, barely any food, and freezing temperatures. Then I was discovered by a wandering band of pirates.
They called themselves the Brotherhood and I was forcibly inducted into their crew as slave labor. I was immobilized and my face and arms tattooed with “The Mark”. Any attempt to escape, and I’d be executed. Even if I succeeded in escaping, I was now permanently marked as a pirate. No civilized world would offer me asylum so long as I wore “The Mark”.
As it turned out the Brotherhood has a rather unique system of promotion. The entire crew, officers included, are former slaves. Captured slaves can work their way up the ranks and become crew members. Crew members can become officers. Officers can even rise to the rank of Captain.
So I survived and worked my way through the ranks. I now Captain my own Reaper-class frigate; the Reaver’s Revenge.
I used to think about leaving the Brotherhood, but where would I go? I’m a marked woman. This is my life now, and honestly I’ve accepted my lot. I am an angel of death, bringing judgment on the innocent and guilty without discrimination. This is my purpose, and I know nothing else anymore.
