Initiation, part 2
28 Apr 2022Iridium Nova
I might have been the first person in history to simultaneously lose my ship at the same time I got my Pilot's Federation license. Of course, the last time I saw it, it was leashed to that shiny golden Python. The same Python that was now much less shiny and much more scattered across several kilometers of space somewhere in the Diso system. None of the Salacious Crew had reported seeing a stock Cobra in the mess. Didn't mean it didn't get destroyed, but according to them, such a thing would really stand out. Every other ship I've encountered in this escapade has been either a rusting monstrosity or a gleaming bling-mobile with more modifications than would be reasonably safe for your average pilot. Among such a menagerie, the stark normality of a stock Cobra would stick out like a sore thumb. To the me of today it seems silly to worry about any kind of stock ship, but this was the one my parents got me. It had sentimental value. Also, back then it was literally the only ship I owned and I was virtually broke, so I actually needed it too.Fortunately, the ship hadn't gone far. It had been sold to a green smuggler in Reidquat and got impounded in Reorte. Thank the Powers that Be for stupid criminals. After the cops put the guy in the slammer, they ran a check on the ship and traced the ID to me. This was back in those wonderful days when the system actually worked in my favor more often than not. All I had to do was get to Reorte and claim the ship, according to the message I got from the lockup. Getting a ride was not easy. Apex wasn't around back then, so you had to post on the BBS or get ahold of someone off the record if you wanted transport somewhere. And it could be expensive, depending on a range of factors. Without much money to offer, I couldn't afford to be picky. So when I got my ride, I wasn't going to turn it down, despite the fact that it was a literal garbage scow. The ship was headed straight to the impound lot to pick up the weekly quota of scrap metal and other refuse the Reorte police routinely extracted from impounded ships, so luckily the scow wasn't totally full of garbage yet. But even an empty scow still stinks, and I still remember the smell, all these years later. I was thankful for the speed of Quirium back in those days.
The scow crew were a little too interested in me for my comfort. Apparently I was the best looking thing they'd ever hauled. I'm sure they meant it as a complement. Considering what they normally haul, it wasn't saying much. Thankfully it was a short trip. Claiming my ship took far longer than it should have, but for me that mostly amounted to a lot of waiting around. The concourse bar was nice at least. Once I was finally back in my ship, with all these loose ends tied up and my Pilot's Federation license firmly in hand, I could finally relax. And that was the cue for my mind to start dissecting everything I had just been through.
The stories were just fantasies, the holos no better. Everything was hard, cruel, and crazy out here. I realized that the dreams I had of great adventures among the stars wouldn't really be possible. The galaxy didn't work like that. Humanity wasn't what I thought. It was more diverse than any story could describe, and more unpredictable than the greatest authors could imagine. I came to realize that the 'verse I found myself in was more chaotic than I could have imagined. And, naturally, I rejected that reality. I started searching the networks, desperately trying to find somewhere better. Maybe it was just like that around here. Surely, there had to be a place that made sense, where life was like it was in the stories.
There was. And that's where I was headed next.