This is the tale of a pirate named Mysteron. Although back in those days I was known as alpha backer 579 something or other, my memory of those times fails me and I am no longer sure of my old designation.
Long ago in a galaxy known as Alpha 3, I roamed the asteroid belts in search of Anacondas. There was precious little exploration to be done in those day, the galaxy was small, too small for a bored, rich pirate such as myself.
I had amassed a small fortune and my ship of choice was the Cobra. She was a fine ship indeed and equipped with the most deadly of weapons. The asteroid field was my hunting ground and the mighty Anaconda was my prey. I would track them down, disable their cargo hatches and chuckle with glee as I watched a stream of precious canisters leak out into the vacuum of space.
Soon I had more money than I needed and I took to splitting the belly of the Anacondas and leaving the contents for other less wealthy commanders to pick up like scavenging hyenas on the planes of the Milky Way. There were times when I would attack and destroy up to three Condas at a time and litter the asteroid field with canisters.
Of course occasionally I would engage in a little combat, mostly other pirates and the occasional innocent when the fancy took me. My dogfighting skills were highly honed by that time and my Cobra performed stupendously.
One evening I was going about my usual business of thrashing big ships, spilling their guts and collecting the occasional bounty. Out of nowhere I started taking fire, heavy fire and my shields were gone before I could effectively respond to this new threat.
I boosted away and saw that another commander had attacked me and was quite evidently bent on my destruction and who can blame him, I probably had a substantial bounty on my head and I certainly didn't blame him for trying to collect it.
But that evening something was different, I had blown away so many Condas and flown around that asteroid field endlessly until I was dizzy and drunk on space dust. I was bored and rich and now I was about to be destroyed by an intrepid usurper. And destroy me he did. That night he became a member of a small and daring league of commanders who had managed to get one up on me.
At the end of it all I launched once more from Port Zelada in my new Cobra, paid for with my insurance policy. But I had only one thing on my mind, vengeance. I immediately hyper-spaced back to the asteroid field intent on making my hunter the hunted. I searched the field weaving between the silent, barren rocks but there were no ships to be seen.
I had not recorded the commanders designation and he had long since fled the scene of his conquest.
And so there was only one option open to me if I was to truly gain vengeance. I took my inspiration from the god of the old testament and decided that the only way to be sure was to KILL EVERYONE!
And so it began, pilot after pilot succumbed to the devastating barrage from my beam laser mixed with a generous sprinkling of multi canon for good measure. ‘Griefing' they called it and well perhaps it was but vengeance reigned that night and many a commander would curse my name as they screamed it into the cold harsh vacuum of space. But I grew frustrated. How could I be sure I had destroyed my nemesis, I couldn’t of course. And then it came to me, a plan so despicable so as to be the envy of all pirates who sail the stars.
There was a way to be sure, I would travel to Port Zelada, the one lone outpost in this overly small galaxy, the one place where all pilots must return eventually. I flew in through the narrow hatch of the gargantuan, black, spinning city. I positioned myself in the centre of the docking bay, flipped my Cobra and aligned my weapons with the glowing docking hatch. From that moment on, any pilot trying to dock would face my wrath. And so one pilot after another got the shock of his life as he approached the entrance to Port Zelada. Some died before even making it through entrance. Others panicked and crashed their fragile hulls into the superstructure of the station. Some got through but didn't last long.
It wasn't too long before some pilots got wise to the situation and started to patrol the exterior of the station firing in through the hatch. Eventually one skilled pilot broke my blockade and wore down my hull and liberated me from my ship. But the pause in hostilities was brief. Mere moments later I emerged from the hanger armed to the teeth thanks to my exceedingly fat purse of credits. I took up my position and resumed the blockade. One unfortunate soul was met by a horrific array of missiles that I unleashed, he didn't stand a chance. But what of the station's defences I hear you ask. Well Back in those days I had found a way of avoiding them, I was invisible to the inner laser turrets and the federation fighters would smash themselves into the sides of the station in their vain attempts to engage me.
For two nights I locked down the port of Zelada and became the self proclaimed scourge of an overly small galaxy, a galaxy too small for a rich and bored pirate with a taste for vengeance.
Yes it was I, Commander Mysteron, and I alone who locked down Port Zelada in alpha 3. The galactic news was awash with news of my antics and many cursed my name and proclaimed my atrocities as an unforgivable breach of some imagined code of honour that I had clearly abandoned or ignored.
These days I partake of no such frivolities, the galaxy has grown larger and larger and no longer am I confined to a small cloud of rocks populated by mining ships bearing the scars of my beam lasers. In these more civilised times I call myself a bounty hunter or perhaps a mercenary, fighting on the side of the Eranin or the Federation, whichever pays the most.
I fly a Viper now and she is a good ship but sometimes I miss the Cobra that served me so well during the lockdown of Port Zelada. The life of a pirate still calls to me in the dreams that come between wake and sleep and perhaps those dreams will make themselves true one day soon and more tales of pirating will be told. Perhaps some of my unfortunate victims will come across me on the galactic highways. And if they do I invite them to take their own vengeance in turn. Space is dangerous and so am I...
But here endeth the tale of a rich, bored pirate who found vengeance the only way he knew how.
Long ago in a galaxy known as Alpha 3, I roamed the asteroid belts in search of Anacondas. There was precious little exploration to be done in those day, the galaxy was small, too small for a bored, rich pirate such as myself.
I had amassed a small fortune and my ship of choice was the Cobra. She was a fine ship indeed and equipped with the most deadly of weapons. The asteroid field was my hunting ground and the mighty Anaconda was my prey. I would track them down, disable their cargo hatches and chuckle with glee as I watched a stream of precious canisters leak out into the vacuum of space.
Soon I had more money than I needed and I took to splitting the belly of the Anacondas and leaving the contents for other less wealthy commanders to pick up like scavenging hyenas on the planes of the Milky Way. There were times when I would attack and destroy up to three Condas at a time and litter the asteroid field with canisters.
Of course occasionally I would engage in a little combat, mostly other pirates and the occasional innocent when the fancy took me. My dogfighting skills were highly honed by that time and my Cobra performed stupendously.
One evening I was going about my usual business of thrashing big ships, spilling their guts and collecting the occasional bounty. Out of nowhere I started taking fire, heavy fire and my shields were gone before I could effectively respond to this new threat.
I boosted away and saw that another commander had attacked me and was quite evidently bent on my destruction and who can blame him, I probably had a substantial bounty on my head and I certainly didn't blame him for trying to collect it.
But that evening something was different, I had blown away so many Condas and flown around that asteroid field endlessly until I was dizzy and drunk on space dust. I was bored and rich and now I was about to be destroyed by an intrepid usurper. And destroy me he did. That night he became a member of a small and daring league of commanders who had managed to get one up on me.
At the end of it all I launched once more from Port Zelada in my new Cobra, paid for with my insurance policy. But I had only one thing on my mind, vengeance. I immediately hyper-spaced back to the asteroid field intent on making my hunter the hunted. I searched the field weaving between the silent, barren rocks but there were no ships to be seen.
I had not recorded the commanders designation and he had long since fled the scene of his conquest.
And so there was only one option open to me if I was to truly gain vengeance. I took my inspiration from the god of the old testament and decided that the only way to be sure was to KILL EVERYONE!
And so it began, pilot after pilot succumbed to the devastating barrage from my beam laser mixed with a generous sprinkling of multi canon for good measure. ‘Griefing' they called it and well perhaps it was but vengeance reigned that night and many a commander would curse my name as they screamed it into the cold harsh vacuum of space. But I grew frustrated. How could I be sure I had destroyed my nemesis, I couldn’t of course. And then it came to me, a plan so despicable so as to be the envy of all pirates who sail the stars.
There was a way to be sure, I would travel to Port Zelada, the one lone outpost in this overly small galaxy, the one place where all pilots must return eventually. I flew in through the narrow hatch of the gargantuan, black, spinning city. I positioned myself in the centre of the docking bay, flipped my Cobra and aligned my weapons with the glowing docking hatch. From that moment on, any pilot trying to dock would face my wrath. And so one pilot after another got the shock of his life as he approached the entrance to Port Zelada. Some died before even making it through entrance. Others panicked and crashed their fragile hulls into the superstructure of the station. Some got through but didn't last long.
It wasn't too long before some pilots got wise to the situation and started to patrol the exterior of the station firing in through the hatch. Eventually one skilled pilot broke my blockade and wore down my hull and liberated me from my ship. But the pause in hostilities was brief. Mere moments later I emerged from the hanger armed to the teeth thanks to my exceedingly fat purse of credits. I took up my position and resumed the blockade. One unfortunate soul was met by a horrific array of missiles that I unleashed, he didn't stand a chance. But what of the station's defences I hear you ask. Well Back in those days I had found a way of avoiding them, I was invisible to the inner laser turrets and the federation fighters would smash themselves into the sides of the station in their vain attempts to engage me.
For two nights I locked down the port of Zelada and became the self proclaimed scourge of an overly small galaxy, a galaxy too small for a rich and bored pirate with a taste for vengeance.
Yes it was I, Commander Mysteron, and I alone who locked down Port Zelada in alpha 3. The galactic news was awash with news of my antics and many cursed my name and proclaimed my atrocities as an unforgivable breach of some imagined code of honour that I had clearly abandoned or ignored.
These days I partake of no such frivolities, the galaxy has grown larger and larger and no longer am I confined to a small cloud of rocks populated by mining ships bearing the scars of my beam lasers. In these more civilised times I call myself a bounty hunter or perhaps a mercenary, fighting on the side of the Eranin or the Federation, whichever pays the most.
I fly a Viper now and she is a good ship but sometimes I miss the Cobra that served me so well during the lockdown of Port Zelada. The life of a pirate still calls to me in the dreams that come between wake and sleep and perhaps those dreams will make themselves true one day soon and more tales of pirating will be told. Perhaps some of my unfortunate victims will come across me on the galactic highways. And if they do I invite them to take their own vengeance in turn. Space is dangerous and so am I...
But here endeth the tale of a rich, bored pirate who found vengeance the only way he knew how.
Last edited:
