We have just had a bit of luck. It seems that one of our ‘Comrade in Arms’ bashes is coming up in a few months time, and, even better, it is in the Sol system (you know the type, a group of military old fogies get together, swap stories, reminisce, talk about friends who are no longer around, and so on. I would have hated that as a kid, but funny how combat brings people together). “We can go there together” said Duncan “I have Ian’s Sol Permit”. “No, you don’t“, I said, “ain’t no such thing as a permit these days”. “But I have...”“ What you have”, I interrupted, “is the notification that Ian received when he was granted permission to navigate to and through the Sol system. The actual permission is linked to his ID band”. He looked so disappointed I took pity on him. ”If you choose to put in the effort you will be able to get to Sol someday, only not now, and not soon”. We got to talking about other things (we had met up at Dalton Gateway, when I had heading in to ‘set up school’ and Duncan had been passing through). He had got some new information about Ian’s death, but I did not have anything yet to tell him. I was not going to use the normal channels for this; I was going to talk face to face with my friends. Duncan then headed out, and I managed to get another newbie off to a better start with a healthy Trade Dividend and some advice.
I decided to work on Duncans' education while I had the chance. As we were outside the hanger where The Helping Hand was moored (after our escape from the bar; well, I knew it was an escape, he just thought he was helping an old man) I felt that there was no time like the present. “What do you know about the ID band?” I asked him. “Not that much”, he replied, ”save that some systems won’t work without it”. “See what happens if you try and gain access to this hanger”, I suggested. He put his hand on the locking bar, but it would not move when he tried, and the info panel lit up with an “Access Denied” message. He took his hand off the bar. “Try it again”, I told him. This time, he took his hand of in a hurry, with a hurt expression on his face. “It just bit me. You knew it would do that”. “Yes, but you needed to know how effective the ID band system is” I responded, trying not to grin at his discomfort. “What would happen if I tried it again?” he asked, but staying where he was. “You are learning”, I said. “What would happen is that you would receive a jolt strong enough to knock you unconscious, and this area would go into lockdown, which can only then be released from the station control room, and that won’t happen until there was a full squad at every door, ready to deal with any eventuality. Stations take their security and that of their patrons VERY seriously. Who would dock at a station that was lax with ships and cargo”. I could see that he had got the point. He wasn’t that observant though, he didn’t seem to have noticed I had got over my coughing fit. Careless; I need to address that.
I put my hand on the locking bar, and the message “Welcome, Admiral Razor” lit up. "I didn’t know you were an Admiral” he said. “Why would you? I didn’t say” I answered. “Anyway, I am only a Rear Admiral, inactive at that. You will have to wait here until I release the security systems. All normal docks only allow their patron in, until they do that. Prevents some of the problems that happened in the past”. I could see that he got it; good, he was still learning.
Once I got into the hanger I released the lock, and let him through. He looked aghast when he saw The Helping Hand, but he very quickly covered that up, and started to take a close look ather. “She is lovely” he breathed. “Thanks”, I said “but please don’t get too close. She is VERY sensitive, and she WILL kill you if she doesn’t know you!” He stepped back hurriedly, and looked scared. “Don’t worry, I am here, and I can show you around once she is properly awake”. I could see that he wasn’t convinced, and thought maybe I was a bit strange. “We like our privacy, and anybody who tries to get in isn’t going to be around to complain.” I told him. “Maybe I am a bit paranoid, but there is nothing wrong with a healthy dose. Just because you think people are out to get you doesn’t mean you are wrong”. I headed off up to the bridge. “Daddy’s home” I said, as I tapped a military cadence on her main console. The systems started waking up, and after a few moments I could see that one of the screens was showing the main access, where Duncan was still standing. I turned on the in-ship speaker system. “Grab hold of that locking bar on her main hatch”, I told him. I saw him hesitate (good, he was starting to consider his safety); “Duncan, if I wanted you dead you would be already”. He grasped the bar, and after a moment the hatch opened. I went down to meet him, and show him around the Hand. “I knew they were big, but until you get to see around on you cannot understand how magnificent an Anaconda is” he said, enjoyment and wonder lighting up his eyes. I grinned, and I could feel her responding to him; she liked this kid (well, when I was around, at least. She would still kill him if he tried to get in without our permission). We headed to the galley, where we had a meal and talked (this time just idle chitchat; getting to know each other). I offered him a cabin for the night (luxurious compared to the dives in the station), telling him to save his credits (I really wanted to keep him safe, at least ‘til morning), and asked him not to wander around, as I was going to set the Hands’ security systems for ‘occupied’; I could see that he wouldn’t, he realised that she would kill him if he did (I set them so as not to get any unwanted visitors which, after my moment in the bar, I thought was possible).
I couldn’t sleep for a while, reflecting on what had happened in the bar, and that tingling, prickling sensation. It had only happened a few times before, and always when I was the focus of serious deadly intent. I ignored it once, and that damned near killed me. I was in a small fighter, out on patrol in some disputed system or another (I forget which it was), when we scared up a couple of ships that tried to make a run for it. I got on the six of one of them, and I was so focused on it I missed the tingle. Then it came back again, but this time it was like a hammer blow to the back of my head; it actually hurt! I reacted instinctively, burying the throttles in the firewall I nosed her over hard. Just then a shell from a rail gun passed right through where I would have been if I hadn’t reacted; it was so close my shields collapsed, my canopy crackled, and half my systems died. Throwing my ship around, I jinked all I could, desperate to escape. I caught a glimpse of something massive out of the corner of my eye. I don’t know what it was but I knew I had no chance. I still don’t know how I got back to base. Apparently I was so exhausted that they had to lift me from the cockpit, and I was in the base hospital for days, dead to all around me.
When I came round, one of the base doctors was standing over me. “Well, if it isn’t Sleeping Beauty, gracing us with his presence” he grinned (some docs have a sense of humour, when they can find it). “How do you feel?”, he carried on. “Weak, but surprised I am still alive”, I responded. “So are we all. Your Eagle was so badly damaged it isn’t even fit for scrap” he continued “How did you ever survive that patrol?” I thought about it, and then told him everything, even the tingle and the hammer blow. He gave me a strange look, and then checked me over. For a while after that, whenever we met, I got that strange look again. I decided then not to tell anybody about my ‘guardian angel’, people might think I was crazy, and I would lose the stars.
A long time later I found out what had happened, and why I managed to stay in the navy so long, even to becoming an inactive reservist when others were retired. It was at one of these ‘Comrades bashes’, like the one over in Sol soon, and Doc was there. He had had a few drinks, but was merry and very chatty. “Why, if it isn’t old Sleeping Beauty” he said, going on with “Dead Average, but still not Dead”. I looked at him, asking “What do you mean”. He went on to tell me about a meeting he had had with my Skipper, trying to get me pulled from flight duties as he thought I might be delusional. Skipper asked him why, so Doc explained. After that, Skipper said “I cannot do that Doc, for some reason he is a survivor. As a pilot he is dead average. Put him in a simulator, he makes the grade, but there is nothing special there. Even in combat he is fair, at best. But three times now he has come back from something that should have killed him several times over. Take this last time; if Ihad known then what I know now I wouldn’t have sent anything less than a couple of frigates out there, but still he came back. Dammit, his Eagle was so badly damaged IT tried to kill him, and he STILL got back. Another time, he was down on his flight hours and, if he didn’t get his act together, he would have been off the flight line and back in training. I was going to talk to him about it, when he came to me and asked if he could take a ship out. Well, as I was going to tell him to get out there anyway, I thought, why not, and gave him a nice quiet area to go out and get back up to speed. Turns out he had picked up some mission to go find a data cartridge in some other system. He comes back with a totalled ship, this data and a KID! He had a scared young girl with him! He had gone off the grid, found the cartridge, and an occupied escape pod!” “What did you do?” said the Doc. “What do you think I did? I busted him down so far in the ranks he ought to have been buried beyond for all eternity!”. “But he is still here” Doc protested. “Don’t I know it! The next day I have a communiqué cancelling his demotion, and telling me to check his ID. Guess what I found?”. “Go on”. “This kid somehow has got a Founders World permit. He can go to Shinrarta Dezhra and he is barely ‘Competent’. I have a ‘Dangerous’ rating and I cannot go there but he can!”. “What did you do?” “What CAN I do? Somehow, somewhere, somebody likes this kid. I decided to make use of him. You take a look at his scores, his kills, he is just a normal kid, but somehow, when he ought to get killed he makes it back. The ships are ruined, but he makes it back. If I have a suicide mission, no chance of survival, but somebody needs to go I will ask him (you cannot order somebody to go on one of these, you can only ask), but if he says yes I know that, somehow, we will get him back".
Now, when we get together, and I see the Doc, I say “Still Dead Average” and he laughs and says “Still not Dead”.
