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On a slight rise by the shore of a sea that, many millennia hence would be called the Arabian Gulf, two figures lurked beneath a flimsy canopy. Below them, a spacecraft stood out against the sand. Drones bustled around the loading ramp and the animal pens surrounding it.

One of the figures picked idly at a mouth full of razor-sharp teeth with one of its talons. The other glanced at it.

“Do you mind?”

“Sorry,” it pulled its claw away quickly, “dinner was stringy.”

“Oh?” Looking down at the ranks...

Flying Under the Radar Since Forever

The Free Trader Alliance (FTA) is humanity’s proudest attempt at organized chaos. It's not a government, it’s not a corporation, and it’s definitely not a democracy. It’s a patchwork of haulers, scavengers, smugglers, and opportunists held together by caffeine, mutual suspicion, and a shared fear of paperwork.

FTA captains don’t salute. They don’t report to anyone. What they do is move things — fast, quietly, and with a firm belief that it’s only illegal if...

The Reptoids are extinct. At least, that’s what everyone keeps insisting — usually right before someone uncovers something they left behind.

They’re not remembered through stories or language. There are no clear transmissions, no known culture, no reliable depiction of what they even looked like. Just silence, and structures. Vast, inscrutable, over-engineered structures — deeply buried, quietly waiting, never fully dead.

You don’t find Reptoid tech. You disturb it. Accidentally. In the middle...

It always starts with good intentions and no adult supervision.

Gandrig: a lovely planet, terrible judgment. The Advanced Peace Institute — a well-funded Libertarian “peace-through-technology” collective — had a bold idea: create self-aware weapons to end war.

Because nothing says “conflict resolution” like a fleet of star-destroying bombs with existential curiosity.

And they succeeded.

Sort of.

They didn’t just build one bomb — they built many. Sleek, terrifying, intelligent constructs designed...

Meet the Kind – Galactic Retrievers of Chaos and Snacks

The Kind are dog-like aliens, but not the loyal-fetch-your-slippers sort. No, these canines run a loosely connected web of trader clans, recovery crews, and outright treasure hunters — all operating under a simple cultural code:

If it’s lost, find it.

If it’s yours? …Prove it.

The Kind aren’t organized in any traditional sense. They don’t have a government — just clans. And while no one’s exactly sure how their political structure works, it...

If you’re ever tempted to let Chuck Nortis land your ship, don't. Seriously — just don’t.

Chuck is the Astra’s designated pilot, mostly because regulations FTA HuMOPs regulations on biological offices Part 3, Section 24, subsection a, part iii, demand a human at the controls. Competence, apparently, is optional. He can’t fly straight, land clean, or explain how orbits work without yelling at the computer. But he can dock a freighter into a battleship hold while it’s spinning, malfunctioning,...

(Or: How to Wake Up Wrong in Space)

Captain Tim Symbles lives for that perfect moment — the first breath after jump, when time resets, the coffee hasn’t kicked in yet, and the universe hasn’t gone wrong. Just a heartbeat of peace before reality crashes in.

He didn’t get it this time.

Instead, he wakes up face-down on the bridge. The restraints have failed. The power is flickering. And the ship — his beloved, barely-functional freighter — is not where it’s supposed to be. Again.

This is not...

(But It Sure Has Opinions)

The Free Trader Alliance — or FTA, if you're in a rush — is not a government. Not in the traditional, sensible, "keeps-things-working" sense. It's more like a centuries-old patchwork of laws, regulations, bylaws, fines, and contradictory precedents duct-taped together and set adrift in space.

There are no FTA elections. No anthem. No planet. Just a flag, a truly terrifying amount of red tape, and a decentralized network of stubborn, caffeine-fueled traders who’d...

Captain Timothy Horatio Symbles doesn’t exactly inspire confidence at first glance. In fact, he rarely inspires anything except concern. But somehow — somehow — he’s managed to keep the Astra flying, the crew mostly alive, and his ship only occasionally on fire.

Symbles is a Free Trader, part of a loosely regulated, entirely dysfunctional alliance of interstellar haulers, smugglers, scavengers and optimists. His ship, the Astra, is an old freighter held together by duct tape, sarcasm, and...

The launch is nearly upon us with the new cover ready to go and the last polishing underway.

Watch this space for details about where to pre-order and check out the newly released Trunk Line - the Director's Cut.