Sunday Evening
Sunday evening...or so my display tells me. Been out in the dark long enough my mind can't grasp the concept of time. Finally pulling back into Wollheim after a long haul of "goods" that the general public may consider "morally questionable." What do they know? Those people have a debt to work off anyway, right? I didn't decide their fate! Someone else already did that. I just move 'em from station A to station B. Whatever, I'll let everyone else judge people like me while they grind away at their dull routines in the belly of that twirling tin box they call home. Leave the dirty work to me, even if someone in some fancy council chamber 1KLy away labels it as "illegal." I’d gladly risk my neck (not to mention my legal liberties) for the thrill I get out there! I mean the sights and sounds I've seen and heard. The ones I have yet to see or hear. All the action, suspense...the ADVENTURE!! How can so many settle for less?!?! But that's besides the point. I'm so drained I can't think straight. What was I saying?
Oh, right. I plop my Keelback down at pad 40. And with how glossy-eyed I am from the openness of space “plop” is sugar-coating it. About to turn in for the night, morning, whatever time it is. Leeeettttt's just take one last quick peek at the bulletin board and see if there is anything I just can't turn down. No? Well that's fine I really should turn in any.
!!!WOOOOP WOOOOP!!!
Ratsignal! The board shows all rats tied up and the clients are stacking up! I couldn't care much less about anyone else's goings on in the galaxy. It's mostly thoughtless busy work to make more money for some top dog entrepreneur anyway. But something inside me refuses to ignore the thought of a poor soul, floating helplessly in open space with but a drop of fuel to keep the oxygen flowing...if that.
What choice do I have? I leap out of my Keelback and sprint down what seems like the entire length of the station to my Diamondback at pad 16. The touch of that worn out captain’s chair. The view from the cockpit...the perspective just feels so natural. For no other ship do I have such passion than this Explorer. Or as I call her, The Sally Ranger. She is a part of me, and I her. Out of the small collection of starships I've gathered...whether it be my nimble Imperial Eagle or the stout Keelback that I just jumped out of this ship is the one I trust most. No matter where I am in the galaxy...as long as I’m in this ship I’m home. This ship, The Sally Ranger, she knows me.
!!!WOOOOP WOOOOP!!!
That’s right, the client!! CRAP!! I had dazed off when dispatch forwarded me the client’s location. I rush to note down the system as I try to recover from my trance-breaking heart attack. Gear up! Boost! Straight outta the gate with reckless disregard for local traffic and that dumb “SPEEDING” notice glaring at me from the corner. “Shut up, I know I’m speeding! I’m tryin’ to same someone! I’m comin’ man!!” As if anyone can actually hear me. I clear mass lock. “3...2...1...engage”. Finally on my way. About 10 jumps and I’ll be in his system.
Nothing too eventful on the way. A close-ish call with a star, some harmless threats from pirates...not very unusual. I arrive in system and immediately scoop. There won’t be much to spare the poor guy if I don’t. That was my last jump. That and I like to make them feel comfortable with as much fuel as I can manage. Aaaannnnddd…”fuel scooping complete.” Tank full to the very top. Want to be able to supply as much as possible right? Plus I’m already here so why not?
After a short supercruise hop by the client, he is now far enough from the star that I can safely reach him. I see it! Beacon on the scanner. Thrust up to pull the max turn radius. Eyes on the beacon itself now...full speed ahead. I hit the beacon, drop, and see the client near me on the scanner. Sweet, the most suspenseful part is over. He’s saved. Wait what? Why is he at 35% hull? I guess things happen out here. Just surprised he didn’t tell me before, but I guess I never asked. Wait! WHAT?!?! Who’s that with him!?!
It’s amazing how many thoughts can run through your mind in such an incredibly short timeframe. Hardly longer than the blink of an eye. Well one blink more and I realize the second ship is near the client, but certainly isn’t with him in any familiar sense. I fear the worst. With all this talk lately about rogue pilots, I assume this client is the next target. One more poor, helpless, unsuspecting victim placed in the crosshairs of yet another twisted, sadistic commander with nothing better to do than prey on the weak. Finally by the third blink I wrap my thick head around the situation. I realize two things. First the blip on the scanner slaps some sense into me and makes me realize that at least this isn’t a rogue pilot, but a local pirate. Second...WHY AM I JUST SITTING HERE watching the Eagle making gun runs with his multicannons on the unshielded Sidewinder!?!?! I’ve got to do something!! I boost in from about 2.2km away, my eyes beaming at the target distance indicator. BAM!! 1.4km!! Send that baby. Go find your home, little limpet! I overshoot the client to fly in front of the hostile in an attempt to steal his attention, but he has no interest in me. He’s already got a sitting duck, why would he? I’m already turning around and slowing when I realize he didn’t take the bait. “Fuelling complete” I pop another limpet as I come to a stop with the client and the hostile in sight. He is now stopped directly in front of and above the client, as if perched, and is relentlessly tearing into the poor Sidewinder. He now has the client down to about 23% hull and dropping fast. Why did I waste so much time scooping before I got to him?!
You leave me no choice. I didn’t want to, but you leave me no choice! I broadside the Eagle with a volley of shots from my pulse laser, but just enough to really get his attention. That’s it, now he can’t ignore me. A sharp and VERY quick turn by him and I immediately start taking heavy fire, but better me than the other guy. As I draw him away I fire another desperate limpet at about 1.0km with the hostile hot on my tail. It’s enough. FINALLY I hear the client boost, charge his shields and quickly low wake outta there!
You’re lucky, “Mr. Eagle.” I don’t have to kill you today.
CMDR Frescador
Rescue #12
Sunday evening...or so my display tells me. Been out in the dark long enough my mind can't grasp the concept of time. Finally pulling back into Wollheim after a long haul of "goods" that the general public may consider "morally questionable." What do they know? Those people have a debt to work off anyway, right? I didn't decide their fate! Someone else already did that. I just move 'em from station A to station B. Whatever, I'll let everyone else judge people like me while they grind away at their dull routines in the belly of that twirling tin box they call home. Leave the dirty work to me, even if someone in some fancy council chamber 1KLy away labels it as "illegal." I’d gladly risk my neck (not to mention my legal liberties) for the thrill I get out there! I mean the sights and sounds I've seen and heard. The ones I have yet to see or hear. All the action, suspense...the ADVENTURE!! How can so many settle for less?!?! But that's besides the point. I'm so drained I can't think straight. What was I saying?
Oh, right. I plop my Keelback down at pad 40. And with how glossy-eyed I am from the openness of space “plop” is sugar-coating it. About to turn in for the night, morning, whatever time it is. Leeeettttt's just take one last quick peek at the bulletin board and see if there is anything I just can't turn down. No? Well that's fine I really should turn in any.
!!!WOOOOP WOOOOP!!!
Ratsignal! The board shows all rats tied up and the clients are stacking up! I couldn't care much less about anyone else's goings on in the galaxy. It's mostly thoughtless busy work to make more money for some top dog entrepreneur anyway. But something inside me refuses to ignore the thought of a poor soul, floating helplessly in open space with but a drop of fuel to keep the oxygen flowing...if that.
What choice do I have? I leap out of my Keelback and sprint down what seems like the entire length of the station to my Diamondback at pad 16. The touch of that worn out captain’s chair. The view from the cockpit...the perspective just feels so natural. For no other ship do I have such passion than this Explorer. Or as I call her, The Sally Ranger. She is a part of me, and I her. Out of the small collection of starships I've gathered...whether it be my nimble Imperial Eagle or the stout Keelback that I just jumped out of this ship is the one I trust most. No matter where I am in the galaxy...as long as I’m in this ship I’m home. This ship, The Sally Ranger, she knows me.
!!!WOOOOP WOOOOP!!!
That’s right, the client!! CRAP!! I had dazed off when dispatch forwarded me the client’s location. I rush to note down the system as I try to recover from my trance-breaking heart attack. Gear up! Boost! Straight outta the gate with reckless disregard for local traffic and that dumb “SPEEDING” notice glaring at me from the corner. “Shut up, I know I’m speeding! I’m tryin’ to same someone! I’m comin’ man!!” As if anyone can actually hear me. I clear mass lock. “3...2...1...engage”. Finally on my way. About 10 jumps and I’ll be in his system.
Nothing too eventful on the way. A close-ish call with a star, some harmless threats from pirates...not very unusual. I arrive in system and immediately scoop. There won’t be much to spare the poor guy if I don’t. That was my last jump. That and I like to make them feel comfortable with as much fuel as I can manage. Aaaannnnddd…”fuel scooping complete.” Tank full to the very top. Want to be able to supply as much as possible right? Plus I’m already here so why not?
After a short supercruise hop by the client, he is now far enough from the star that I can safely reach him. I see it! Beacon on the scanner. Thrust up to pull the max turn radius. Eyes on the beacon itself now...full speed ahead. I hit the beacon, drop, and see the client near me on the scanner. Sweet, the most suspenseful part is over. He’s saved. Wait what? Why is he at 35% hull? I guess things happen out here. Just surprised he didn’t tell me before, but I guess I never asked. Wait! WHAT?!?! Who’s that with him!?!
It’s amazing how many thoughts can run through your mind in such an incredibly short timeframe. Hardly longer than the blink of an eye. Well one blink more and I realize the second ship is near the client, but certainly isn’t with him in any familiar sense. I fear the worst. With all this talk lately about rogue pilots, I assume this client is the next target. One more poor, helpless, unsuspecting victim placed in the crosshairs of yet another twisted, sadistic commander with nothing better to do than prey on the weak. Finally by the third blink I wrap my thick head around the situation. I realize two things. First the blip on the scanner slaps some sense into me and makes me realize that at least this isn’t a rogue pilot, but a local pirate. Second...WHY AM I JUST SITTING HERE watching the Eagle making gun runs with his multicannons on the unshielded Sidewinder!?!?! I’ve got to do something!! I boost in from about 2.2km away, my eyes beaming at the target distance indicator. BAM!! 1.4km!! Send that baby. Go find your home, little limpet! I overshoot the client to fly in front of the hostile in an attempt to steal his attention, but he has no interest in me. He’s already got a sitting duck, why would he? I’m already turning around and slowing when I realize he didn’t take the bait. “Fuelling complete” I pop another limpet as I come to a stop with the client and the hostile in sight. He is now stopped directly in front of and above the client, as if perched, and is relentlessly tearing into the poor Sidewinder. He now has the client down to about 23% hull and dropping fast. Why did I waste so much time scooping before I got to him?!
You leave me no choice. I didn’t want to, but you leave me no choice! I broadside the Eagle with a volley of shots from my pulse laser, but just enough to really get his attention. That’s it, now he can’t ignore me. A sharp and VERY quick turn by him and I immediately start taking heavy fire, but better me than the other guy. As I draw him away I fire another desperate limpet at about 1.0km with the hostile hot on my tail. It’s enough. FINALLY I hear the client boost, charge his shields and quickly low wake outta there!
You’re lucky, “Mr. Eagle.” I don’t have to kill you today.
CMDR Frescador
Rescue #12
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