In my first try on Elite-oriented fiction, I tell the story of Thomas Beckett, an 18 year old guy, who has been thrown into the sea of life without knowing how to swim. Will he have what it takes to learn? Not even I do know right now, but it sure will be an interesting journey 
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Death.
Nobody takes death totally calmly.
That would be a bit unnatural. But death of someone you've known is even worse. I knew that moment would come. But when one of the police officers showed up at the door of our apartment, I didn't know what to expect. Probably an interrogation? Did my father get caught doing something illegal?
"Are you Thomas Beckett?" he asked. "Yes, but…" I stuttered, afraid of saying something wrong. "You might want to sit down for this, boy.".
There it was. Clear as the blackness I wanted to jump into at that moment. He explained me how my father got ambushed by a wing of unknown bandits. He never refused help those in need, and everybody knew he was a Rat.
It sounded weird to me, Was. He no longer is. Half of my brain still didn't quite understand it. The other half was thinking about what the hell am I gonna do. Maybe join the mechanics? I knew much about ships, my father taught me everything about them. Everything he knew.
Actually, he took me on every trip he made, but the smuggling ones. That's why I wasn't with him that day. But he never introduced me to people. I know he ran a dangerous bussiness, but at this time it would be handy. How am I going to make money…
I was torn out of my dark ideas by the voice of the policeman: "I'm sorry, I have to go now. You have my condolences. Your father surely was a great man, we all know how much he has done for Fuelum." and with a salute, he disappeared out of the door.
For the rest of the day, I sat there, in the apartment (if that's what you call a room with a little kitchenette and a bathroom). We liked it there. It was in the heart of the station, just under all those hangar and cargo bays.
Evening.
I'm starting to hate this room. It reminds me of him too much. I'll take a walk.
Walking around the station always calms me down. Especially the hangar deck. I love watching ships land and take off, out to countless, neverending adventures. Or just a bit of trading, it doesn't matter. What matters is doing what you love.
Walking past pad 43, I nearly bumped into Rebecca. She greeted me with her warm, bright smile, and asked how things were going. I told her about what happened to my dad. I didn't want to talk about it at all, so better do it quick. Looking worrried, she asked me what I was planning to do. I had to admit, no clue. Red Fang, Cobra my father used to fly in, has been turned to space dust with him. So trading or messenger job was out of question. And I didn't have money for the insurance either. So what? Rebecca sent me to our hangar, maybe I'd find something to sell there. With her good luck wishes I took off into the hangar floor, partly because I had no better hopes than finding something there.
Rummaging through the stuff there, I found a lot of interesting stuff. Mostly useless though. But still, something. A few spare parts. Not for a Cobra. That was weird. After a bit of looking, I realised that those parts were blocking a doorway. I've never noticed it, maybe because I never had to. But now it was there, like a secret passage to a new world. But there was a problem. It was locked, and I had no chance bashing through it, not in this low gravity. Tired, but curious, I had to go home.
In the apartment, there was a lot of things my father kept, but I had no idea what they ment. A plastic something, slightly resembling that weird lizard Nathan was keeping in his Python's cockpit. A "Hutton Mug". No clue what that is. A mug. A plush Rat. I understood that. I decided to keep those things, as a memorial. But looking through my fathers stuff, I found more interesting things than that. A keycard *will it work for the door in the hangar?* and a few bullets. And where are bullets, there is a gun. I found it after a minute of looking, taped under dad's bed. How typical for him. If you don't have a solution, make it. I tucked all this stuff into my backpack and went to sleep. It was already late. (If you are a time-keeping person, that is). But I didn't get much sleep, waking up at around 4am, seeing my dad die for the sixth time. Dreams are dumb. I grabbed the backpack and went to the hangar.
The keycard worked. Door slid open, and I saw nothing. Of course I did, Fang's hangar was brigthly lit, this one was completely dark. Of course, I didn't expect much. Maybe a few canisters with forgotten cargo, or limpets. But definitely not this. As my eyes adjusted to the darkness, I started seeing contours of something not exactly limpet-ish in there. After a while of staring, I realised it was an Adder. Not new, not nice, but on the other hand, I had the keys to the hangar. Might as well be the answer to my yesterday's questions.
Talking with a few station authorities who were kind enough to talk to me, I found out that that ship was, indeed, my father's. And hence he is dead now, my. Cold thinking, I know. But it meant I wouldn't starve to death, being kicked out of the apartment. Once I got the keys to the ship (stored at hangar staff), I imediatelly got to investigate the ship. It was old, but it was bringing me one thing, noone else could. Hope and will to carry out on with my fathers work. Not exactly an lawful one, but I had to start on trading nevertheless.
I decided to name the ship Hope, partly because of what it brought me, partly because it was exactly what remained from an old name, GrassHopper.
Well, here I am. I have a ship, a gun, and after selling a few of those parts from the first hangar, a bit of money. Seems promising to me.
Credits to Snexie, edited by Rebecca Hail.
- - - - - Additional Content Posted / Auto Merge - - - - -
Death.
Nobody takes death totally calmly.
That would be a bit unnatural. But death of someone you've known is even worse. I knew that moment would come. But when one of the police officers showed up at the door of our apartment, I didn't know what to expect. Probably an interrogation? Did my father get caught doing something illegal?
"Are you Thomas Beckett?" he asked. "Yes, but…" I stuttered, afraid of saying something wrong. "You might want to sit down for this, boy.".
There it was. Clear as the blackness I wanted to jump into at that moment. He explained me how my father got ambushed by a wing of unknown bandits. He never refused help those in need, and everybody knew he was a Rat.
It sounded weird to me, Was. He no longer is. Half of my brain still didn't quite understand it. The other half was thinking about what the hell am I gonna do. Maybe join the mechanics? I knew much about ships, my father taught me everything about them. Everything he knew.
Actually, he took me on every trip he made, but the smuggling ones. That's why I wasn't with him that day. But he never introduced me to people. I know he ran a dangerous bussiness, but at this time it would be handy. How am I going to make money…
I was torn out of my dark ideas by the voice of the policeman: "I'm sorry, I have to go now. You have my condolences. Your father surely was a great man, we all know how much he has done for Fuelum." and with a salute, he disappeared out of the door.
For the rest of the day, I sat there, in the apartment (if that's what you call a room with a little kitchenette and a bathroom). We liked it there. It was in the heart of the station, just under all those hangar and cargo bays.
Evening.
I'm starting to hate this room. It reminds me of him too much. I'll take a walk.
Walking around the station always calms me down. Especially the hangar deck. I love watching ships land and take off, out to countless, neverending adventures. Or just a bit of trading, it doesn't matter. What matters is doing what you love.
Walking past pad 43, I nearly bumped into Rebecca. She greeted me with her warm, bright smile, and asked how things were going. I told her about what happened to my dad. I didn't want to talk about it at all, so better do it quick. Looking worrried, she asked me what I was planning to do. I had to admit, no clue. Red Fang, Cobra my father used to fly in, has been turned to space dust with him. So trading or messenger job was out of question. And I didn't have money for the insurance either. So what? Rebecca sent me to our hangar, maybe I'd find something to sell there. With her good luck wishes I took off into the hangar floor, partly because I had no better hopes than finding something there.
Rummaging through the stuff there, I found a lot of interesting stuff. Mostly useless though. But still, something. A few spare parts. Not for a Cobra. That was weird. After a bit of looking, I realised that those parts were blocking a doorway. I've never noticed it, maybe because I never had to. But now it was there, like a secret passage to a new world. But there was a problem. It was locked, and I had no chance bashing through it, not in this low gravity. Tired, but curious, I had to go home.
In the apartment, there was a lot of things my father kept, but I had no idea what they ment. A plastic something, slightly resembling that weird lizard Nathan was keeping in his Python's cockpit. A "Hutton Mug". No clue what that is. A mug. A plush Rat. I understood that. I decided to keep those things, as a memorial. But looking through my fathers stuff, I found more interesting things than that. A keycard *will it work for the door in the hangar?* and a few bullets. And where are bullets, there is a gun. I found it after a minute of looking, taped under dad's bed. How typical for him. If you don't have a solution, make it. I tucked all this stuff into my backpack and went to sleep. It was already late. (If you are a time-keeping person, that is). But I didn't get much sleep, waking up at around 4am, seeing my dad die for the sixth time. Dreams are dumb. I grabbed the backpack and went to the hangar.
The keycard worked. Door slid open, and I saw nothing. Of course I did, Fang's hangar was brigthly lit, this one was completely dark. Of course, I didn't expect much. Maybe a few canisters with forgotten cargo, or limpets. But definitely not this. As my eyes adjusted to the darkness, I started seeing contours of something not exactly limpet-ish in there. After a while of staring, I realised it was an Adder. Not new, not nice, but on the other hand, I had the keys to the hangar. Might as well be the answer to my yesterday's questions.
Talking with a few station authorities who were kind enough to talk to me, I found out that that ship was, indeed, my father's. And hence he is dead now, my. Cold thinking, I know. But it meant I wouldn't starve to death, being kicked out of the apartment. Once I got the keys to the ship (stored at hangar staff), I imediatelly got to investigate the ship. It was old, but it was bringing me one thing, noone else could. Hope and will to carry out on with my fathers work. Not exactly an lawful one, but I had to start on trading nevertheless.
I decided to name the ship Hope, partly because of what it brought me, partly because it was exactly what remained from an old name, GrassHopper.
Well, here I am. I have a ship, a gun, and after selling a few of those parts from the first hangar, a bit of money. Seems promising to me.
Credits to Snexie, edited by Rebecca Hail.
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