Moments in Time - Reflections of a Spacer
- Thread starter EAGLE 5
- Start date
Rubin Port is both alive and well on its way to being dead. The activity, the traffic, and the triage makes for a shocking combination in deep contrast with the stillness of space and the faint glow of Altani 2. As I wait for the refueling process to complete I inspect the repairs caused by Imperial forces hell bent on stifling this rebel nuisance that is Altani 2. The news reads the "Emperor is a Sick Man". For some that is an open invitation to opportunism and political scheming. For others it is a dream, but one that can never be reached for as dependent the Empire seems on its leader the actuality of it is quite the opposite. Local noblemen and warlords keep the Imperial system working like a well oiled machine. Their subjects willingly work in concert to maintain the social status they have come to know and enjoy. This includes the crew of that damned cruiser that showed up just an hour ago signaling the end of the Altani rebellion. Fighters I can take on, whether the light and nimble variety or the heavier and hard hitting ones. But that cruiser was too much. 1 Anaconda, 1 Asp, 1 Python, 4 Cobras, 2 Eagles, and 1 Imperial Fighter was my contribution to the cause. Anything else would have been suicide after the cruiser showed up. "Thank you for your help!, you saved a lot of lives back there!" said the deck officer "Don't forget us". As I punch my boost jets lining up my coordinates I know that time will be cruel once more. As time and space folds around me I close my eyes and think to my self... For what... I only delayed the inevitable.
Jon sat at a table in Bar Overlook, sipping a rare Lavian scotch, staring blankly out at LHS 3774 planet 3. The news was confusing and contradictory. The Emporer was sick, then dead... then sick again with denials coming out of the Imperial news feeds and questions and uncertainty coming out of the Federation feeds. This could mean big money... It could also mean galactic destabilization.
Either way... in this moment he was content... a nice Scotch, and relative silence compared to the rest of the station. Within an hour he would be a ghost... but for the moment... it was just him... a bartender... and the Scotch.
It struck Jon as odd. Everyone in the galaxy just wanted to turn a credit... killing, trading, smuggling... there wasn't a single one of us whose hands hadn't dipped into muddy waters of criminality... the galaxy itself felt tense... on edge... self destructive... homicidal... but for Jon... there was just the scotch... the dull roar of the bar patrons... and the view.
Either way... in this moment he was content... a nice Scotch, and relative silence compared to the rest of the station. Within an hour he would be a ghost... but for the moment... it was just him... a bartender... and the Scotch.
It struck Jon as odd. Everyone in the galaxy just wanted to turn a credit... killing, trading, smuggling... there wasn't a single one of us whose hands hadn't dipped into muddy waters of criminality... the galaxy itself felt tense... on edge... self destructive... homicidal... but for Jon... there was just the scotch... the dull roar of the bar patrons... and the view.
Just another five clicks and I would be safe, the shields were beginning their slow count to regeneration but I could not spare the power, Everything was being directed at my shredded engines now, I could not fight, one weapons mount was all I had and a mining laser was neither use nor ornament in a stand up fight but if I could just get within the umbrella of the station it would all be worth it, 16 tons of Palladium and every hooker on Wilson Gate station would love me. A new ship was attainable, The Cobra Mk III I had dreamed of, and saved for and sweated and now bled for.
Four clicks now, the boost capacitor was almost recharged, the Life Support unit had cleared most of the smoke from the cockpit now. I will never again complain about recycled air tasting stale, I swear, just get me to the station. Laser fire starts flickering around me again, damn!! the hull makes a groaning noise as superheated metal vaporises and i watch in hypnotised dread as a fracture begins to crawl across my canopy. The boost capacitor glows as fully charged and I thumb the booster
Two clicks and closing on the station fast, the Sidewinders drop back, weapons firing impotently after me, I dare to let a smile flicker across my blistered face, I am going to make it, sweet mother-lode I am going to live and drink and tell tall tales to my children, The sidewinders abruptly peel off and give up the chase and I request docking permission from the station. Nearly crashing with post adrenaline comedown I make it to landing pad 30 and only then realise they blew off my cargo hatch. I can no longer tell what emotion is making the tears fall so freely.
Four clicks now, the boost capacitor was almost recharged, the Life Support unit had cleared most of the smoke from the cockpit now. I will never again complain about recycled air tasting stale, I swear, just get me to the station. Laser fire starts flickering around me again, damn!! the hull makes a groaning noise as superheated metal vaporises and i watch in hypnotised dread as a fracture begins to crawl across my canopy. The boost capacitor glows as fully charged and I thumb the booster
Two clicks and closing on the station fast, the Sidewinders drop back, weapons firing impotently after me, I dare to let a smile flicker across my blistered face, I am going to make it, sweet mother-lode I am going to live and drink and tell tall tales to my children, The sidewinders abruptly peel off and give up the chase and I request docking permission from the station. Nearly crashing with post adrenaline comedown I make it to landing pad 30 and only then realise they blew off my cargo hatch. I can no longer tell what emotion is making the tears fall so freely.
There is just something about an ELITE rated ship... I have been working for a few weeks running errands for the Feds and having a hand at military life. Being an Alliance pilot had gotten a bit stale. Sure it's easy to sit back and watch the big two go about their political scurrying while making a profit, but life on the Frontier has a way of making you crave for something more. The sizeable money made by trading favorites such as Ethgreze tea buds or Lavian brandy... my favorite... could never replace the excitement of a good shootout with an imperial cruiser or better an ELITE rated pilot. As Bob Taylor's Anaconda thrusted forward like a dagger at my throat I could only think just how even more majestic and menacing it looked. The Anaconda was never particularly a pretty sight from its homely beginnings in the late second millennium to the newest Faulcon editions streamlined and bristling with weapons. When the scanner flashed the ELITE Eagle I knew there was no turning back and that only one would walk away from this confrontation. Over time I had outfitted my Cobra with all sorts of hard hitting weapons and tricky defensive systems but none of that mattered as the threats on my comm system spewed out as frequently as the maelstrom of laser beams, bullets, and plasma bolts from the wanted foe. The glimmering magenta glow of Luhman 16's twin faded L type stars was a beautiful frame to the battle that was raging. Warnings alarms and smoke filled my cabin as my ship sustained a naval battle's worth of abuse, but clever outfitting and determined piloting was much more valuable this time than the vast amount of money Bob threw at his flying monster. Alternating shield cells, chaff, and intensified forward fire I shut down the Anaconda's shield first, and then began a deadly dance to keep the belly of the beast clear in my sights. By now the threats had stopped replaced only by violent unspeakable curses delivered in a sheer panic. Adrenaline flowing and feeling charged by a successful military campaign against drug runners and armed with the knowledge that my camo-skinned Cobra would be the last thing that the pirate Bob Taylor would see, I pulled the trigger and sent twin manticore rounds through the hull and into the power unit. The Anaconda erupted in the dimly lit sky like a small supernova. For a small and brief second I flashed a smile because my modest Competent rating had trumped a notorious ELITE rated pirate, however, as the Anaconda's wreckage floated away I knew that hundreds of unfortunate traders could now rest easy in their eternal sleep knowing their revenge was finally fulfilled.
May the wings of Liberty never lose a feather... that is my motto. From my personal standpoint the Liberty is a fine ship and much she has endured over the last year we have been flying together. Supply runs to famished fringe systems? the hold was full for them. Slave rebellions in the Empire? the ship's name brought both courage to the oppressed and fire to the oppressors. All these moments we faced together against all odds. Then came Lugh and the war against the Crimson State Group. We flew away with riches beyond what we had accumulated in the year spent chasing opportunity and facing danger. In an uncharacteristc move Halsey dropped the hammer hard on the CSG. It seems like a fondness for nordic legends and a strong sense of identity was just what the embattled president needed to push the button on the Federal war machine.... The CSG's bravado and passionate plea to the Alliance though commanded the highest respect, the latter being a genuine dignified gesture of diplomacy which fell on deaf ears and right into the hands of a dangerous game of poker between Halsey and the shadow president for the supremacy of the Federation's leadership. In the end the Federation's grip on Lugh became a crushing chokehold, thanks to in no small part to the few thousands of mercenaries, who like me, answered the call for the "preservation of democracy". As I settle into a new routine in a small mining system, far from the fiery skies of Lugh, I watch the Liberty's combat ready "urban camo" being stripped off in favor of a more civilian setup and can't help but notice that maybe this time a feather or two is missing.
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Yeah, I've served, I've done my share for the Federal Navy. Do I regret it? Absolutely not. I'm a Patriot, and I'll do anything to keep my home, Sol, safe. I've been asked to do some unsavory things, and I'd do them again, but I suppose there are some people who are morally aligned who might think differently. Back in my Navy days I've helped clear entire systems of "rebels". Now to our superior fleet, they were just the inky version of peasants with pitchforks, but they were stopping the wheels of progress. That makes since to me. The greater good, right?
I have since given up on that life, taken an extended hiatus of sorts to get my head right. Not to mention scratch off "see the universe" from my bucket-list. I miss the Navy from time to time, It's nice knowing someone in to your left and right, that you're back is covered. Heck I'd be happy if I could see the wake of a friendship drive these days. Not a lot of that going on in big sky country, but man, the view.
This cruel and fickle mistress hasn't taken kindly to me, or my transport van the Lucky Duck for that matter, but somehow this bucket of bolts has pushed to to systems untouched by man. I've seen pristine systems, Costner worlds, flown though the gaseous fog of expended Supernovas, sounded my foghorn onto pieces of space rock that has never been observed by any other spacer.
Am I enjoying my hiatus? Oh yeah. Its a big galaxy and I'm going to make my mark. It may not be in the side of an opposing ship, anytime soon anyways, but I'm content for now. If I could just find another like minded Bowman to cross paths with. It does get a bit lonely...*3..2..1..Friendship Drive, Engaged*
I have since given up on that life, taken an extended hiatus of sorts to get my head right. Not to mention scratch off "see the universe" from my bucket-list. I miss the Navy from time to time, It's nice knowing someone in to your left and right, that you're back is covered. Heck I'd be happy if I could see the wake of a friendship drive these days. Not a lot of that going on in big sky country, but man, the view.
Am I enjoying my hiatus? Oh yeah. Its a big galaxy and I'm going to make my mark. It may not be in the side of an opposing ship, anytime soon anyways, but I'm content for now. If I could just find another like minded Bowman to cross paths with. It does get a bit lonely...*3..2..1..Friendship Drive, Engaged*
That didn't take long.
My self imposed sabbatical, or hiatus if you will, lasted exactly one week. I thought after the horrors of Lugh that I would be done with space, find a small planet somewhere, sell the whole kit and caboodle and start a new life for myself as a grounder living off what I had made in the last year or so. I guess I should have taken up exploring, seeing the sights and the wonders of this universe. What a lonely way to spend your time. Knowing me, I had to do something more hands on, so mining it was. As soon as I got back to my dock in Alioth the Liberty got a fresh coat of high visibility orange paint to replace the steely Federal gray camo, and on went the lasers and refining equipment. You can only stare at rocks so much before you start losing your mind... There be gold in them there hills! .... not even once .... Uranite was the best I managed and by week's end my patience had grown thin and my trigger finger itchy for a different type of laser.
They call it entropy, that is nature's tendency toward chaos. I'm back in Alliance space ducking and dodging around asteroids in a hot RES enforcing the law and protecting miners from what appears to be a band of ex imperial navy pilots turned pirates tear-assing around Alliance space looking for the stuff. The large blue gas giant in proximity paints a very picturesque setting with its lightning storms popping in and out of view among the clouds. The swirling rings frame this naturally chaotic setting as myself, allied police forces and pirates make this place our own canvas to be painted with intense laser fire proving to me without a doubt that you can find art anywhere, even in entropy.
My self imposed sabbatical, or hiatus if you will, lasted exactly one week. I thought after the horrors of Lugh that I would be done with space, find a small planet somewhere, sell the whole kit and caboodle and start a new life for myself as a grounder living off what I had made in the last year or so. I guess I should have taken up exploring, seeing the sights and the wonders of this universe. What a lonely way to spend your time. Knowing me, I had to do something more hands on, so mining it was. As soon as I got back to my dock in Alioth the Liberty got a fresh coat of high visibility orange paint to replace the steely Federal gray camo, and on went the lasers and refining equipment. You can only stare at rocks so much before you start losing your mind... There be gold in them there hills! .... not even once .... Uranite was the best I managed and by week's end my patience had grown thin and my trigger finger itchy for a different type of laser.
They call it entropy, that is nature's tendency toward chaos. I'm back in Alliance space ducking and dodging around asteroids in a hot RES enforcing the law and protecting miners from what appears to be a band of ex imperial navy pilots turned pirates tear-assing around Alliance space looking for the stuff. The large blue gas giant in proximity paints a very picturesque setting with its lightning storms popping in and out of view among the clouds. The swirling rings frame this naturally chaotic setting as myself, allied police forces and pirates make this place our own canvas to be painted with intense laser fire proving to me without a doubt that you can find art anywhere, even in entropy.
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Days are usually spent looking over tables, spreadsheets, percentages, and profit margins. Evenings behind a microphone, talking to members of the press. Hard to believe not 6 months ago, I sat in the cockpit of of an Eagle, tracking wanted men across the stars for measly sums of credits. Perhaps it was luck, fate, or a bit of both that launched a no name Commander onto the path of becoming the public face for a megacorporation. Exploits in smuggling, drug dealing, murder, and slavery all built the wealth to found one of the Empire's most lucrative and aggressive corporations, and here I am, it's soft rural accented voice and persona.
I'd be lying if I said I didn't miss flying. To throw away the responsibilities, and the duties that have come with such success, and embrace the cold void once again. Some say you never stop being a pilot. That the stars call to you like sirens, singing such beautiful promises of adventure and profit. The thought brings a dull ache in my wrist, reminding me of fights gone by, where one pulled back on the flight stick at tense moments of sheer terror. A constant reminder of countless brushes with death, and I cannot deny that I crave them now.
Perhaps, sometimes, one needs to return to the front lines.
I'd be lying if I said I didn't miss flying. To throw away the responsibilities, and the duties that have come with such success, and embrace the cold void once again. Some say you never stop being a pilot. That the stars call to you like sirens, singing such beautiful promises of adventure and profit. The thought brings a dull ache in my wrist, reminding me of fights gone by, where one pulled back on the flight stick at tense moments of sheer terror. A constant reminder of countless brushes with death, and I cannot deny that I crave them now.
Perhaps, sometimes, one needs to return to the front lines.
Something old... something new... something secret... something that only a few
Joe Andershak.... callsign "SEETHER"
Calm, Cool, Collected... Ruthless.
This is the sort of man that gets things done.... no questions asked. A long distinguished combat record.... hacked.... but backed by real skill... my skill and some help with GE stimpacks in the heat of the moment. Genetic Engineering has been a taboo subject in most space... except the empire where anything goes. The Federation's collective disdain for anything "unnatural" doesn't stop them from tinkering with machine replacements which turn people into walking can openers but stem cells and cloning absolutely not.
EAGLE 5 may be the sort of person that walks the straight and narrow path of his own code... but SEETHER isn't.
Being a member of The Canonn is not something easy to live with. After the Lugh fiasco and my discharge from the Navy I returned to my adoptive home in the Alliance and did minor militia work for the A.R.C. It's steady work and the bills get paid... if you can stay in one piece. It's amazing just how often a "peaceful" society such as the Alliance finds itself entangled in some sort of territorial turf war or conflict. Again good for blowing the rust off the guns but ultimately no better than playing Galactic Whack a Mole.
The Unknown Artifact... or Artefact as the locals call it changed everything. The videos, the interviews, the haunting pictures of the damn thing... absolutely intoxicating.... had to be a part of it. It's Thargoid... it isn't... maybe human who knows? looks organic yet machine part fossil part alive nobody can say for sure. Tests, experiments and the hunt is all I care for. On my long journeys out in the black I'd often power down to sleep with the sounds of the UA feeding softly into the cockpit... a dream.. a nightmare.. a call for help?
Life as an underground operator can be... interesting, taking you places you may not want to go and usually in the darkest corners of the universe... and your soul. Peregrina is a condemned world... permit locked thanks to "plague" but behind the administrative red tape there are a lot of questions.... mysteries... and answers. This is where the UA has taken me or should I say has taken him. Parking the Liberty at the extended storage facility is never an easy thing for me. The transition was eased through the comforts and relative safety of my Asp Explorer the "Lone Star" but once in the Peregrina neighborhood it was back in a Sidewinder to fortify my background as a former combatant with questionable history and connections. I was amazed just how familiar the Sidey felt having been years since I last flew one. It was a baby Cobra in all senses of the word.. from the diminutive squat profile to the frustrating power management and lack of shielding. A convincing canvas from which I'd paint Joe's new legacy far from the comforts of the Alliance space. Living on the edge has a way of making you feel more alive.. more connected with the universe. A small ship, the hunt very primal like Lions on the Steppes... however the laws of physics still apply especially when being interdicted by a Fed Dropship tearassing around the frontier looking for the sh.t. I can't remember the last time I was close to ejecting but as my lowly Sidey was being batted about like a roach in the Cat's paw survival... and a healthy dose of GE stimpacks kicked in and did the business.. I may have not have slain the dragon so-to-speak but I made for one hell of a retreat much to the Dropship Skipper's chagrin.
Enter the Vulture.
I've faced a few of these in combat with my Cobra... they turn better, they shoot harder and they take more of a beating.. I hated them. To cement SEETHER's image an ice White vulture was exactly what was needed... a contradiction in terms. Typical Federation Bravado with Imperial flair... that ought to send them for a loop... Little did I know it would send me for one. At the first chance I got I decided to try my hand at pirate hunting... A Cobra... not what I wanted to see. The pilot had a rating of Dangerous but he may as well have been mostly harmless. I recognized the familiar cut of the C2 Beams on the nose of my target yet.... they seemed to be powerless against this modest "D-Spec" vulture which I named "The Excalibur".... a legendary sword. The name couldn't be more appropriate with just a few shots from my C3 weapons the Cobra's shield fizzled out... a few second later and the power plant erupted taking the ship with it and showering the forward half of my ship with debris and heated plasma. It was shocking.. such overwhelming force against something so familiar. I felt nauseous and sick like being showered by the blood of a familiar person who you just stabbed in a fit of rage.
A wicked grin formed on SEETHER's lips it was time.
Joe Andershak.... callsign "SEETHER"
Calm, Cool, Collected... Ruthless.
This is the sort of man that gets things done.... no questions asked. A long distinguished combat record.... hacked.... but backed by real skill... my skill and some help with GE stimpacks in the heat of the moment. Genetic Engineering has been a taboo subject in most space... except the empire where anything goes. The Federation's collective disdain for anything "unnatural" doesn't stop them from tinkering with machine replacements which turn people into walking can openers but stem cells and cloning absolutely not.
EAGLE 5 may be the sort of person that walks the straight and narrow path of his own code... but SEETHER isn't.
Being a member of The Canonn is not something easy to live with. After the Lugh fiasco and my discharge from the Navy I returned to my adoptive home in the Alliance and did minor militia work for the A.R.C. It's steady work and the bills get paid... if you can stay in one piece. It's amazing just how often a "peaceful" society such as the Alliance finds itself entangled in some sort of territorial turf war or conflict. Again good for blowing the rust off the guns but ultimately no better than playing Galactic Whack a Mole.
The Unknown Artifact... or Artefact as the locals call it changed everything. The videos, the interviews, the haunting pictures of the damn thing... absolutely intoxicating.... had to be a part of it. It's Thargoid... it isn't... maybe human who knows? looks organic yet machine part fossil part alive nobody can say for sure. Tests, experiments and the hunt is all I care for. On my long journeys out in the black I'd often power down to sleep with the sounds of the UA feeding softly into the cockpit... a dream.. a nightmare.. a call for help?
Life as an underground operator can be... interesting, taking you places you may not want to go and usually in the darkest corners of the universe... and your soul. Peregrina is a condemned world... permit locked thanks to "plague" but behind the administrative red tape there are a lot of questions.... mysteries... and answers. This is where the UA has taken me or should I say has taken him. Parking the Liberty at the extended storage facility is never an easy thing for me. The transition was eased through the comforts and relative safety of my Asp Explorer the "Lone Star" but once in the Peregrina neighborhood it was back in a Sidewinder to fortify my background as a former combatant with questionable history and connections. I was amazed just how familiar the Sidey felt having been years since I last flew one. It was a baby Cobra in all senses of the word.. from the diminutive squat profile to the frustrating power management and lack of shielding. A convincing canvas from which I'd paint Joe's new legacy far from the comforts of the Alliance space. Living on the edge has a way of making you feel more alive.. more connected with the universe. A small ship, the hunt very primal like Lions on the Steppes... however the laws of physics still apply especially when being interdicted by a Fed Dropship tearassing around the frontier looking for the sh.t. I can't remember the last time I was close to ejecting but as my lowly Sidey was being batted about like a roach in the Cat's paw survival... and a healthy dose of GE stimpacks kicked in and did the business.. I may have not have slain the dragon so-to-speak but I made for one hell of a retreat much to the Dropship Skipper's chagrin.
Enter the Vulture.
I've faced a few of these in combat with my Cobra... they turn better, they shoot harder and they take more of a beating.. I hated them. To cement SEETHER's image an ice White vulture was exactly what was needed... a contradiction in terms. Typical Federation Bravado with Imperial flair... that ought to send them for a loop... Little did I know it would send me for one. At the first chance I got I decided to try my hand at pirate hunting... A Cobra... not what I wanted to see. The pilot had a rating of Dangerous but he may as well have been mostly harmless. I recognized the familiar cut of the C2 Beams on the nose of my target yet.... they seemed to be powerless against this modest "D-Spec" vulture which I named "The Excalibur".... a legendary sword. The name couldn't be more appropriate with just a few shots from my C3 weapons the Cobra's shield fizzled out... a few second later and the power plant erupted taking the ship with it and showering the forward half of my ship with debris and heated plasma. It was shocking.. such overwhelming force against something so familiar. I felt nauseous and sick like being showered by the blood of a familiar person who you just stabbed in a fit of rage.
A wicked grin formed on SEETHER's lips it was time.