Laundry, Lazy, Lethal.
27 May 2020Lowbee
I wish I could update my logbook more frequently, but my life just seems to unfold more slowly than most others, even though it certainly doesn't feel that way sometimes. Perhaps it's my struggle with ADHD, that eternal affliction that makes the hours slip by without me taking much notice, since I apparently have the "inattentive" or "daydreamer" version of the condition. It also likes to strike at the worst times, like the first few seconds of an interdiction, or the final approach after, oh, 200,000 ls to a planetary orbit. I'll get so wrapped up in some small detail of something (anything, really) that I'll get to the brink of disaster before I wrench myself out of lala land, sweating and twisting the control stick like a panicked teenage cadet. Sometimes when it's over I'll have to go back to my bunk and change because, if nothing else from my past sticks with me, it's Ma saying to us kids, "For god sakes you two, if you're going to get yourselves killed at least make sure you have clean underwear on. Don't dishonor the family." Millennia of family tradition to uphold and that's the big thing? Fuck's sake.Anyhoo on to the log entry! After years of struggling, doubting, and more than a few tears, I became the owner of a beautiful Palladium-hued Imperial Cutter which I promptly named Valacirca (an ancient name for Ursa Major, as seen from Sol). It was the end of a very long and traumatic period that saw me at one point actually give up flying for over a year. I couldn't get my head straight and fled to Brill Works and then Capitol to recuperate. After an ex that I let slip through my fingers suggested that I could really do it again, I mustered up my courage and my credits and bought an old rickety Sidewinder from a very sketchy one-man company on Peters City. I realized quite a while later that 1) I probably did the stationmaster a favor since it had apparently been sitting on pad two for god knows how long, 2) number one was most likely why nobody even bothered to scan me on the way out, and 3) I'm pretty sure that guy didn't actually own the Sidewinder and just flat out swindled me. Well, he did have the entry and access codes, but I really don't care to dig into that. There were a few ships in my life after the Sidey, including the wonderful Phantom I was currently using to acquire the means to properly outfit Valacirca for whatever my life leads me to next.
I also took a longer voyage into the dark. It's not like a Beagle Point run, not yet, but it did take me over 800 wonderful jumps outwards around and back again. After endless months of toil and scrabbling around the Bubble the jaunt rekindled the joy of just letting discovery happen. My giddy ADHD self marveled at new neutron stars, fantastic worlds, and the potty mouth of a girl with ten thumbs trying to get her brand-new-but-oh-so-temperamental AFMU kickstarted (without the manual too, I forgot to download it at Jameson. Doh!) It was revitalizing, refocusing, and made me want to do longer trips as far away from the bustle of the Colonia run and the edge-of-the-world dudes as possible. Maybe I'll do some NGC sightseeing, or poke farther in towards the core next time. My ever helpful neighbor back at Jameson reminded me that the Codex has been on my systems for well over a year and guessed (he knows me better than I thought) that I hadn't even looked at it once. Well, dammit. Also I must remember to pack more spicy noodle packs next time, I may have used up my lifetime allotment of mac-and-cheese love on this last one.
After I returned to Imperial space and turned in my exploration data I headed back to my berth in Shinrarta and, after a few days' breather, was going to start researching the data and materials I would need to get the Valacirca spruced up when it hit me that I didn't really know what "spruced up" actually meant. Was I going to mine again? I mean, I was good at mining, and could certainly use the credits, but...again? Should I use it to do ridiculous cargo runs? Start up a small VIP courier or passenger business? Fill it with a million stuffed animals and brighten a planetside colony's weekend? I just had no idea.
Well I ended up opening my stash of whiskey and good maduro cigars from Sol and spending the last of a few lovely evenings with a frisky kid who had recently wandered over from Eravate hoping to get in good somehow with the folks down on Jameson Base to look for work. As we lounged in the wee hours finishing off the bottle our talk turned to combat. He was still a kid in many ways to be sure, but not when it came to killing. Turns out he had been in some major shitfests during his stint with the Federation and when he left the service he was the only one of his unit to turn around and head away from Colonia back to the bubble. I was both transfixed and terrified by his recollections of events I had only heard about through Galnet; lots of stuff was clearly left out of the feeds.
He was a lot more sympathetic to my professed fears of combat and general lack of competency than I would have thought. He freely admitted that as an assault engineer he had only seen a ship’s bridge twice in his life, and that ground forces probably saw a completely different face of death than pilots did, but those times when it drew close to him he admitted he had always felt utterly alone, or singled out, in addition to being scared shitless. Every time, he said. I had to agree - in my limited run-ins with the Dark (not the dark, mind you) I had certainly felt the same way. He was silent after that exchange, his face reflecting a memory that I wasn’t privy to, and I felt a sudden pull to him, an attraction strangely platonic, like siblings. It was the closest I had felt to another person in a long time.
As we finally cleared away the remains of our dinner he suggested that I visit a friend of his who started a small pilot academy after he left the service. It was a civilian operation, but he assured me I'd be able to learn most of the things I'd need to get started in the art of defending myself while kicking ass. I’m not used to kind gestures from strangers as a rule but for some reason this time it felt different. I thanked him and said I’d reach out to his buddy maybe a bit later. He left, after a time, heading out to pack his things before setting off to A1; I wasn’t so naive as to think I’d see him again but we exchanged info anyway as a courtesy. Then I was alone, in my room, thinking about maybe putting Valacirca on the back burner for a while.
Up until that point I hadn’t really seriously considered focusing on combat. In fact, I’d rather have done anything else forever and ever. I did my time on data missions, trading, flying around rings hiding from pirates. Interdictions terrified me and I felt like when I got away it was either purely by chance or my pursuer saw my ridiculous attempts at evasion and let me go out of pity. Running was always my go to and I’m pretty sure I wasn’t wrong most of the time. But always feeling like it’s the only option doesn’t always mean it’s the right option, and I’ve been avoiding the other options. No, that's bullshit, I’ve been avoiding getting the skills to actually have other options. I’ve always just assumed I’m not good enough and never tried to be good enough. Maybe it’s time to expand my toolbox, learn how to fight. Learn to kill. And forget about using the Phantom, or even a Vulture. I should make myself start at the beginning, in something small, I don’t know.
Maybe it’s time to pack a bag, hitch up a Diamondback or a Viper and go back to flight school. Ma's in my head already, I'd better do a laundry load before I go.