Location: Unknown

*Inara appears sitting in her study, lounging on a dark leather couch with a bottle of brandy on the table next to her. She glances at a data pad sitting near by and starts a string of letters and numbers.*

J-1-0-0-0-1-5, J-1-2-4-7-5-3

Arbitrary designations assigned to corners of the universe that my navigational computer couldn't pinpoint. I'd heard rumors that these areas, often referred to as W-space, were death pits, worse than black holes (which we saw).

*pauses to take a drink*

After being there... I find the rumors a little bit far fetched. Where are these 'monsters of the deep' that swallow the heavily tanked marauders whole. They did prove to be a small problem for local damage absorption by the Heavy Assault Cruisers, but once Michel and I dusted off the Basilisks it was only a matter of time. The only... unsettling things I've noticed are the lack of biological debris and the fact they fired almost immediately upon our arrival, no chance to negotiate.

These drones are far more effective than any other drone I have seen, almost scary to think these could be the next step the Federation's mistake is taking. That much of an improvement in such a short time... could prove to be a problem in a few decades. Others are saying they are Jovian experiments they forgot through time; and the idea of AI with Jove tech is a bit more unsettling yet.

Unfortunately, my expertise isn't in the sciences... however, there seemed to be quite a price on the scrap we were able to collect. And right now, business is business. While being a simpler existence, ISK is a lot less prevalent in these corners of New Eden, and I'll take what I can right now.

*Jall'n comes running up to Inara from off screen holding an old leatherbound book with gold writing Galnadan's Travels, "Will you read with me?" A smile crosses Inara's face as she lets the little Amarrian girl climb onto her lap. Glancing at the camera*

Sometimes it's worth the little things like this; the safety and security of me and mine.

Now, Jall'n, wave bye to the camera and we'll read the first two chapters before you go to bed.

*Jall'n waves towards the screen with a wide smile, "Bye."*

Wonderful Welcome Back

I take a weekend to get things arranged in one of my new estates planetside, where I haven't had a chance to install proper comm, then come back to find out that Vaden of all people is being handed the reigns for all proper fleet operations. By the words of our former Fleet Marshal, I have to answer to that arrogant old man.

I can only wait to hear his rantings of how they finally came to their senses and appointed him, a true leader to a proper position of authority. By the stars, he didn't need his ego stroked any more than the lavish welcome they gave the two of us. We were treated like celebrities and now they actually give him some form of power?

It's time for a drink... and a stick... definitely a stick.

Stepping out of the shadows

*Text only entry*

Ghost... It's the title I have taken on. Quite the change from the regular business negotiations and territorial protection rallies of Sinq Laison, but one that I am quickly adapting to. Small ships, well for the most part, striking quick and with precision rather than with the brute force [BL3H] threw at things that stood in our way.

I'm writing this as a bit of a break from the paperwork of registering the hundreds of new slaves that are going to the market. Some foolish bunch decided to offend someone higher in the pecking order as well as digging into details of our actions... Such an affront to me and mine can not go unchecked. As such, a small group of us Ghosts decided to show that it's not only Force Recons that can perform a job with discretion.

Two days ago Vaden, Mr. Akula, and myself undocked some of the larger, more specifically tasked ships. Ships that are rarely, if ever, associated with stealth and guise. With a small bit of support I was able to bring in Echidna's Daughter on her first combat mission; the destruction of an eyesore placed by these... vermin.

I hope their lesson has been learned, the families they had employed on the station were given the opportunity to leave and enter my hanger arrays for the duration. And now I'm in the middle of selling them off to pay for the inconvenience their former employers put on us.

On a more personal note... I met Aria's cousin the other day. Very possibly the most worthless lump of flesh I've ever had the displeasure of meeting. I was hoping that after Vince scattered his knee across the station I would get the pleasure of tending his wounds... sadly, Aria had the local med teams rush him off to properly heal, and she was adamant about not just throwing him in a new body even though he was already wired for it and had received the proper training to prevent a wetgrave. His screams were simply delightful though... such powerful lungs for such a runt of a man too. I could have spent hours listening to it, and days finding ways to make them louder.

I guess... I should be getting back to this paperwork. It won't do itself.