Part I
Reaper 1-3
Reaper 1-3
In space? In The Black?
...it's nearly impossible for me to keep my internal clock in line. Now, Dalton Gateway has these lights that simulate night and day, which is good for everybody living there, but when you're a miner? You spend most of your time outside the station, in the middle of "B.F.E." space, firing focused energy beams at spinning space rocks for hours, sometimes days on end.
My ship... this dinky little Cobra, was a signing bonus from the Foundry Mining Consortium I'm signed with. Nothing too fancy, and mostly just used to pick up small containers. Not really a lot of room to carry much, but I had almost saved up enough to get a proper mining vessel.
I say 'had', because I'm not really in the 'mining' business any more. Not after that day...
What happened?Some insanity... that's what happened...
The ever familiar hum of energy being pushed through the fine tips of mining lasers could be heard from within the ship. The sound-waves themselves traveling through the metal of the ship, vibrating to create the noise that new Commander John Crawford would hear as he held right index finger down on the trigger.
Johnathan would be wearing his standard issue black bodysuit, so often used as there are only a few companies that make them to proper specifications. He wasn't much a fan of the coloration, but, with his rather limited budget, and low-paying position within the company he worked for, he wasn't about to blow CR on something he didn't need.
Sitting in the cockpit of a stock model Cobra with a few modifications made to it in order to allow it to be used for mining, he would have his helmet removed and placed on the floor of the boat to his immediate right, exposing his face to the low UV sunlight that reached through the cockpit to warm him some.
Brown hair kept short on the sides, and longer on top, would all be brushed upward leaving the shaven sides of his head uncovered by what hair remained.
One could tell that he had been 'modified' in a few ways. Firstly, as a symbol of his genetic modifications, John's clean looking goatee would be a dark grey color, eyes looking mechanical.
Due to a decompression incident that occurred when he first began piloting his issues craft, there is a long, rigid looking scar running from his left temple, down over his left eye, and downward until it reaches the left corner of his mouth. Losing his left eye due to a technical malfunction in the ship, his company paid to have his left eye replaced with one that included a few extra HUD elements, as it interacts with the on-board computer in such a way that saves the ship a nearly unnoticeable amount of processing power. This includes database searches, such as finding locations for known resources reported by other miners, as well as distances and times to destinations.
His right eye, which was originally colored a bright, crystalline blue, would be the same color, but now quite obviously artificial. This particular 'enhancement' was added for the sake of 'leaning into' being modified. Some people lose their sense of self in an accident. John, however, found comedy in being 'a machine man'.
Tattoos looking akin to circuitry can be seen just outside of his left eye, down the left side of his neck, and on what can be seen of his lower-lip and chin, though his facial hair obscures most of that ink.
"Inja..." John would say as he turned his upper body to either side, stretching his back in his seat.
"Yes, John?" an artificial female voice could be heard speaking inside the cockpit of the ship.
"How long have we been out here?" John would ask.
"Sixteen hours, four minutes, and... thirty-seven seconds." the computer would reply.
"...and we haven't found anything out here but deep-space psychosis..." John says, sighing.
"If you are feeling isolated, perhaps you should return your voicemail messages." the computer would say.
"I applied for this job to get away from people, Inja... I bought -you- so I could have company." John says, smirking slightly.
"Human social interaction is necessary for a healthy mental state, John."
"What are the limpet drones reporting finding?"
"Sulphur, mainly... and it would appear that this asteroid is depleted."
"Thank you." John responds.
Moving left hand up on the throttle and pulling the stick back, he would pitch his craft upward and thrust up over the rock he had just been collecting from, letting his drones catch up as he moves to another asteroid closer to the Alpha Star in LHS 3447. Having lifted his finger from the trigger before moving his ship, John would turn his head to the right, his eye displaying his Functions Panel.
"Move to... Refinery. How much room is left?" John asks, the panel's lights flickering a second, before returning on a display of the hoppers within the small refinery aboard his rather stunted vessel.
"We should be ready to return to Dalton after the next rock." Inja responds.
John, eyeing over the information displayed on the panel would nod in agreement. Firing a surveyor drone out to the asteroid he was now stopped roughly 1 kilometer away from, he would wait as the trilling sound of the scan stopped, looking over the contents of the asteroid, and nodding once more before pulling the trigger on his mining lasers.
He was not always a miner. Before moving to work out of Dalton, John used to photograph the universe while on liners, and as a 'side-seat' to explorers. A few of his pictures made his work popular enough to afford the move to Dalton. His father, former Commander of the Federal Navy Corvette "Mirage", was an experienced pilot, however, was overwhelmed during a conflict and destroyed within twenty Light-Seconds from SOL's Star. His mother turned to alcohol to cope with the loss, as the young Johnathan was fourteen years of age.
At the age of twenty, John earned his license to pilot commercial craft, and is currently working on securing his "Special" permits, which would allow him to legally operate much larger ships, like the T9... John's Unicorn. He wants to turn it in to a mining vessel, because that's just how he thinks.
No siblings, no spouse, and no children, John finds himself enjoying the silence and solitude of deep-space more than the crowding and over-population of Earth.
"John?" Inja, the social AI, would ask.
"Yes, Inja?"
"I am picking up a shortwave burst transmission from within this system. It appears to be closing in. I have recorded what words could be made out within the static. Would you like to hear them?" Inja asks.
"...woah... yes. Hit it." John says, removing his finger from the trigger to listen.
"...mayday... *static* ..heavy fire. FSD failing... *static* ...venting oxygen... *static* ...Reaper 1-3... dropping. *static*"
"Incoming Thermal Signature. Military Grade Emissions. Advise enabling Silent Running." Inja says, 'tone' sounding more direct, and much more like a warning, than just information. As she finished the last word, the 'woosh' sound of a small vessel dropping from Super Cruise could be heard.
As a 'trick' for the mind, a standard feature on each and every ship is a 'sound generator'. Its sole purpose is to create and emulate sounds that would be occurring outside the ship, if there were something for the waves to travel through to reach the ship. Instead, the computer will 'fake' the sound of explosions for you within your cockpit, as to avoid mental illness from the utter lack of audible noises in space.
John, looking down to his sensors, would see a single pip in local space. This pip would flicker, and become unable to see, but when it returned, it wouldn't have moved an inch.
"Another Thermal Signature... it appears to be a pirate. Johnathan, we need to leave." Inja says curtly, and with that, another Super Drop could be heard, the computer making it sound as if it had come in right behind the first.
"... disable everything but Life Support." John says.
"...sir?" Inja responds.
"All Sensors pick up is thermal signatures, and we aren't equipped for Silent Running. We need to be the least appetizing thing in this asteroid field, so, yes. Disable everything but Life Support." John says, and in response, every light in the ship turned off with an audible 'click' as the whirring from his engines powering down could be heard, ship remaining completely stationary. "Alright... turn on comms, and see if there's anything being broadcast in local space. If it's just these two, we might be able to sneak out of here."
"Communications array online, John." Inja says, a faint static being heard over the speakers in his ship.
"Where do you think -you're- going, little Reaper?" a gruff voice could be heard. "What? Get separated from your friends? Awww... that's a shame."
"Geoffrey Turner, Lieutenant, ID Number Three Five Nine dash Zero Seven Zero." another voice would respond. It was the man from the comms burst that John had picked up, only, he sounded physically weak. Tired... like he was either running out of oxygen, or managed to take a shot through the canopy.
"Inja... can you tell me if the Pirate signature is showing the thermal load of a shield?" John asks.
"Johnathan... what are you thinking?" Inja responds.
"Answer the damned question, Inja!" John shouts.
"Unable to determine, but... even if he weren't shielded, he's in a modified Eagle. You will be out-maneuvered, and out-gunned." Inja responds.
"I'm not going to just... sit here... and listen to this man die. Bring it all online." John says flatly, furrowing his eyebrows as he looked down at his sensors.
"Very well..." Inja says, internal and external lights flipping back on as the engine could be heard spinning back up. "Systems online."
"More of you?!" the pirate is heard shouting on comms.
"We're being targeted." Inja says.
John, throttling backward, would tilt his Cobra backward, vertical thrusting up so that he would be looking at the two other ships while inverted(compared to them).
The first ship was a Vulture, painted matte black. Bent metal can be seen all about the ship, including completely closing off two of his lateral thrusters. A large section of the canopy was missing, showing a helmeted pilot in the front seat of it, helmet on. The left weapon of the craft had been blown off, now throwing sparks down in to the chamber it used to reside in. The right was a misshapen Beam Laser of some kind, the barrel seen warped and bent, no longer functional.
On the left wing of the Vulture was a decal which looked to be the silhouette of a cloaked figure, holding a scythe down low. The Grim Reaper. A symbol that John had never seen, or heard of, being used on any type of ship.
Behind the Vulture was a black and red painted Eagle, a white skull painted on the left wing as if done with a paintbrush, some sections running off from the main 'body' of the design.
"Target the pirate..." John says.
"John... we can't win this fight." Inja responds.
"A man just dropped in, running from a pirate. The galaxy might be at war, but that doesn't mean I should just... ignore this." John replies.
"His vital signs are dropping. If you're going to do something, it should be soon." Inja responds.
"Disable comms with the Pirate, keep them open with the Vulture. Full power to Engines. The rest to Systems." John says, a few sharp beeps heard as his display would show that Inja had in fact moved power to where he wanted.
Throttling up as much as he could, John would hit his rather limited 'boost', jerking him back in his seat some as he moved in on the Eagle.
"Sub-Target Power Plant." John says.
"John, you are aware of the chances of detonating his c--" Inja starts, being interrupted.
"Target his Power Plant!" John shouts.
"Confirmed." Inja says.
The Eagle, as quickly as John could target a specific module, had already maneuvered himself to pointed directly at John's Cobra. The twin multi-cannons on the Eagle spinning up before unleashing a flurry of heated metal toward John.
Waves of blue energy can be seen surging through the bubble of his shield as each round made contact.
'Dropping', John would thrust himself downward, multi-cannon rounds ripping overhead, just over the barrier of the shield before John would angle his nose up to the Eagle, now within 'mining' distance.
"Disable Assist." John says, another sharp trill sounding as his ship seemed to 'open up', no longer correcting his movements as he moved beneath the Eagle, the nose of John's own Cobra mere feet from the shields of the Eagle, pulling the trigger on his mining beams.
Throttling up as he got near the back of the Eagle, all four mining lasers would rake across shielding before the Pirate would boost away from John in order to get a better angle on him, banking to his left sharply at two kilometers, pre-firing his Multi-Cannons before actually having John lined up.
John, boosting again himself, would charge, head-long, toward the Eagle.
"Impact warning." Inja says flatly.
"Full power to Systems." John says, ship trilling as his shields starting regenerating faster.
Now, my ship wasn't a fighter. Nothing close to it, but... it was bulky. After my accident, Foundry paid to have the bulkheads replaced with some heavier material. The canopy was nearly twice as thick as it needed to be, and the onboard computers kept a pretty close eye on the pressure. They didn't want a lawsuit, so, they just made me safer... no complaints here. I loved the job, so, any excuse to get back into The Black, I was all about.
"I can -see- that!" John shouts.
The Eagle, trying to turn and get out of the way of the quickly approaching Cobra, wouldn't get far in to his turn before being rammed by John. Having used the mass of his own ship, would cause the Eagle to jerk backward slightly, the glow of shields fading from vision before John would pull the trigger on his mining lasers again.
The beams would reach out and remove large sections of the Pirate's Eagle, to include its left wing, and part of its underside... spinning in to the black before erupting in a brilliant orange explosion.
Inja had in fact targeted the Eagle's Power Plant, and as she predicted, it caused a catastrophic meltdown.
Skill had nothing to do with it. Dumb Luck, and a lot of it, was the only reason John survived.
Quickly, the light from the pop would fade, as the only oxygen to burn was being stored in the ship, itself... the wreckage of the Eagle spinning away from John, and in to the black.
John, turning his craft to face the Vulture, would speak once more.
"How are we looking, Inja?" John asks, taking a deep breath.
"Mining lasers damaged from thermal overload. Shield Generator Offline. Hull at forty-seven percent. Life Support, Thrusters, and FSD, all damaged, but nominal. You should not have survived."
"Can you hail the Vulture, please?" John sounds, a few quick beeps heard to signify that it had been done. "Lieutenant Turner, I am Johnathan Crawford of the Foundry Mining Consortium. Come in."
Nothing...
As John got closer to the Vulture, the one remaining external light on the Cobra would illuminate the exposed cockpit. There was no movement inside of the craft.
"Lieutenant Turner, come in...." John sounds before sighing a little. "...Inja, scan the ship as best you can. Tell me how it looks in terms of damage."
"Scanning..." Inja states, returning a few seconds later. "...life support is offline. FSD could sustain light travel in Super Cruise, but would fail if tasked with anything more than a two Light-Year jump. Weapon systems offline. Communications array unable to sustain long range communication."
"So... he's..." John starts.
"Yes, Johnathan... Lieutenant Turner has expired. Shall I send a report to Foundry?" Inja asks.
"Please... and check registry for that symbol on the ship. I've never seen it before."
"Conflict report sent, Johnathan. Checking registry..." Inja starts.
"It looks like..." John starts, narrowing his eyes and turning his head some. "...the grim reaper?"
"No records found, Johnathan. This decal is not in any public record. It does, however, fit with the designation of..." Inja starts, replaying the audio from the transmission "...Reaper 1-3." before speaking again. "Perhaps he is part of a larger company, or squadron."
"Perhaps..." John sounds, furrowing his eyebrows. "Check ship registry for this vessel, please."
"Checking..." Inja would respond. "...it's unlisted, Johnathan."
"So, an unregistered ship, with an unregistered symbol, being chased by a Pirate to... 3447? I've heard of some 'out of the way' places, but c'mon... this system isn't exactly known for its profits, or its combat. That's near the edge of controlled space. Conflict zones... this is just a dinky little belt around an equally dinky star." John says, raising both eyebrows.
"Calculating odds, this was likely a short stop on the Reaper's way somewhere, and he got interdicted before he could make the next jump. If the Eagle, as you say, "Got the drop" on this Vulture, it would explain the extensive damage, and why the Pirate was still able to fight after the conflict. Previous damage to the Eagle would also explain why you were so lucky in that fight." Inja responds.
"Yea..." John sounds, furrowing his eyebrows again. "Inja... what is Federation Law regarding Salvage?"
"How do you mean?" Inja asks.
"If I wanted to say... take this craft to an outpost, somewhere, and get it repaired... not well enough to fight in, but well enough to get around, and returned it to the government... would that be illegal?" John asks.
"As it is an unregistered craft, that, in and of itself, would be illegal. You would need to have the Vulture registered to you before doing any repairs. After registration, you can make any changes you wish to it. Laws were put in place to protect ship manufacturers from their competition 'reverse engineering' anything, but, that also means that you can not legally trade equipment with other Commanders, and why only licensed technicians in approved stations can make modifications to your ship." Inja says.
"...talk to me like an idiot, Inja." John says, sighing.
"Very well. Tow the Vulture to an Outpost, and register it. Then you can have it repaired. Until then, no technician in the galaxy is going to touch it. If there is a conflict in registry, you will be notified via mail that the ship is claimed, and where to return it." Inja says.
It took me a little over three days, but I got the broken little bird, and its deceased Commander, to Fairbairn Station to get it registered. Larry, the tech I know out there, hadn't seen a paint scheme, symbol, or internals quite like these. He was positive it was military, but didn't know which Government. I was thinking President Hudson, and the Feds, but... they're usually a lot better at sticking together, and not leaving a man behind...
The nearly unusable Beam Laser, warped and mangled on its hardpoint, was Engineered for more output, but, the commander must have been in a panic, because he kept it held down for -way- too long. Melted the housing, and even the ' bolts that had it tacked to the boat!
This thing had seen better days, but, a ship like this? I wasn't about to just let it sit there, in space, for anybody to just steal. At the time? I thought that I was just going to return it to the government, and get a reward. Use that reward to get a better ship...
...that... isn't what happened...
That isn't what happened at all...
(To be continued...)