The Verse. It’s a fairly simple place. The Alliance controls the centre. The Reavers sit comfortably on the edge. To comfortably if you ask me. The rest of us? We make do along the rim. Pressed in snug like a budgie in a new pair of jeans. If you’ve never been there, well… it’s a bit like an ocen, if you’ve ever stopped to play in such a thing. The white waves of a changing tide roll in, and you take each one as you fancy. Ride one this way or that. Jump under, or over to dodge 'em if you please. Sometimes one will even come along, pick you up, and dump you a’mite unkindly. But if your heads still got sense in it, and you can find your way up to breath’en, well then you just get right back on your board to catch the next one. Hmm.. I might like to point out you should hope to high heaven your boards still in one piece. But don’t you worry. My board’s a strong one. Strong as you fancy anyway.