Entry 1.
Call me Ishmael.
No, don't call me Ishmael, that would be stupid because my pilot's license says Phaedrus Rynith. At least, I assume it's my pilots license. The picture is unfamiliar, but the only familiar thing I can name is the sound of my voice, distorted as it is within this visored helmet. I awoke a few days ago (I think) in the cockpit of a spacecraft, with no memories of who I am, or where I am. I experience periodic blackouts, and have no idea how much time passes between them. My ships clock indicates I have been like this for at least 14 days, and the station clocks indicate likewise, but I doubt I have been awake or aware of more than a few days of that period. My mind has been tinkered with, clearly, yet somehow I feel no concern over this. I think whatever has been done to my head, I think I did it, or had it done for me. It FEELS right. I think I did it for a good reason.
.
It has taken me some time to become accustomed to living within my ship, discovering its functions, and getting to know how the universe works. I have travelled a bit, tried mining and trading, and gotten into more than a few scrapes. So I have decided to keep a journal. That feels like the right thing to do as well. I am not going to bother with dates and times, it's just so I can have my own record of events, in case I ever wipe my mind again.
.
Whoever I was, or am now, clearly I awoke in the cockpit for good reason. I am at home here. While there are definatly bigger fish out there (and I've run afoul of a few here and there), for the most part, I go where I will, and fear little. The universe is there to be discovered, not feared. Even on the odd occasion I have been "killed", I soon re-awaken in perfect health, in either an identical ship, or the same Sidewinder I first awoke with. Seems membership to this "Pilots Federation" has some sweet perks, as I find myself drawn to combat like it was a drug, and I needed my fix. I have I see other pilots chipping away at rocks, or lugging crap from one place to another and wonder how they stave off the boredom. I need to be moving. Doing. SEARCHING.
.
Whoa! That last word kinda came out on its own there. Now I see it, I realize that's exactly what I have been doing. I'm searching for something. I wonder what? Or who, I guess. Could be I am searching for a person. I certainly took to Bounty Hunting like I had been doing it for years (maybe I have?). If that's the case, it's likely to be some one in the Empire, as I have found myself on the fringes of Empire territory. I even fought against Imperial ships, though I have no idea why I sided with whoever they were fighting (Gold Advance Co, apparently, but I have not seen these guys since then). I acted on instinct, which is really all I have to guide me. Whatever the reason, they were no match for me in my Viper, which I have customized for bounty hunting. Fighters, Clippers and Anacondas alike lit up the surrounding space as I revelled in the target rich environment. I will be looking for this kind of thing in future, there is something I need there.
.
I have named my Viper "Red Shift", as she has enough thrust to give me mild red-outs from time to time (Red for short). She even came with a voice control program I have dubbed "Trouble", the ships CAT (Computer Assist Thingy). Red has this beautiful purry-growl at idle, like she knows we are just pausing to find our next target. From the moment I opened my eyes in her cockpit, I knew she was MY ship, and she has not failed me yet. What we set our sights on, we kill. Well, OK, some manage to flee. I don't chase them. Its not personal, and I will likely run into them again.
End Entry 1.
Call me Ishmael.
No, don't call me Ishmael, that would be stupid because my pilot's license says Phaedrus Rynith. At least, I assume it's my pilots license. The picture is unfamiliar, but the only familiar thing I can name is the sound of my voice, distorted as it is within this visored helmet. I awoke a few days ago (I think) in the cockpit of a spacecraft, with no memories of who I am, or where I am. I experience periodic blackouts, and have no idea how much time passes between them. My ships clock indicates I have been like this for at least 14 days, and the station clocks indicate likewise, but I doubt I have been awake or aware of more than a few days of that period. My mind has been tinkered with, clearly, yet somehow I feel no concern over this. I think whatever has been done to my head, I think I did it, or had it done for me. It FEELS right. I think I did it for a good reason.
.
It has taken me some time to become accustomed to living within my ship, discovering its functions, and getting to know how the universe works. I have travelled a bit, tried mining and trading, and gotten into more than a few scrapes. So I have decided to keep a journal. That feels like the right thing to do as well. I am not going to bother with dates and times, it's just so I can have my own record of events, in case I ever wipe my mind again.
.
Whoever I was, or am now, clearly I awoke in the cockpit for good reason. I am at home here. While there are definatly bigger fish out there (and I've run afoul of a few here and there), for the most part, I go where I will, and fear little. The universe is there to be discovered, not feared. Even on the odd occasion I have been "killed", I soon re-awaken in perfect health, in either an identical ship, or the same Sidewinder I first awoke with. Seems membership to this "Pilots Federation" has some sweet perks, as I find myself drawn to combat like it was a drug, and I needed my fix. I have I see other pilots chipping away at rocks, or lugging crap from one place to another and wonder how they stave off the boredom. I need to be moving. Doing. SEARCHING.
.
Whoa! That last word kinda came out on its own there. Now I see it, I realize that's exactly what I have been doing. I'm searching for something. I wonder what? Or who, I guess. Could be I am searching for a person. I certainly took to Bounty Hunting like I had been doing it for years (maybe I have?). If that's the case, it's likely to be some one in the Empire, as I have found myself on the fringes of Empire territory. I even fought against Imperial ships, though I have no idea why I sided with whoever they were fighting (Gold Advance Co, apparently, but I have not seen these guys since then). I acted on instinct, which is really all I have to guide me. Whatever the reason, they were no match for me in my Viper, which I have customized for bounty hunting. Fighters, Clippers and Anacondas alike lit up the surrounding space as I revelled in the target rich environment. I will be looking for this kind of thing in future, there is something I need there.
.
I have named my Viper "Red Shift", as she has enough thrust to give me mild red-outs from time to time (Red for short). She even came with a voice control program I have dubbed "Trouble", the ships CAT (Computer Assist Thingy). Red has this beautiful purry-growl at idle, like she knows we are just pausing to find our next target. From the moment I opened my eyes in her cockpit, I knew she was MY ship, and she has not failed me yet. What we set our sights on, we kill. Well, OK, some manage to flee. I don't chase them. Its not personal, and I will likely run into them again.
End Entry 1.