Memoirs of an old fighter -Log #1-
25 Feb 2019Vizio Raceio
I have been moving through space for the last year. Fighting, mining, trading, allying, targeting, evacuating, and hunting for an entire year. I thought I knew my ships inside and out and yet.... I failed to notice the blue button on my left side keyboard that has a recording button. I decided to press it to find out that it opens up a logbook.... I feel embarrassed to say the least.Well, no use stressing over the past. Let us get this started. Maybe I will be able to keep this up, seeing that I have a few stories already from the past year that I can record if my memory allows me to remember.
At the start of my flying, I was discharged from a militia on a backwater world near the edge of inhabited space, but they decided to discharge me without my pension. I still harbor resentment from that. So there I was, stowing away in a cargo hold of a Type-6 beaten to all hell and constantly having thruster issues towards a colony that needed workers for their hydroponics farms, starving and cold, wondering what happened to my life. Until the pilot of the ship decided to check on the cargo and found me there illegally. Standing there at gunpoint, thinking to myself "This is the end. A whimper at the end of a ravaged life." Only to see the pilot ask the question, "Why are you on my ship without asking? Why not just ask for a ride?' I was poor, I had nothing of value besides the tattered jacket on my back and my beat up pants with my blown out combat boots, and I just broke down in front of the pilot.
He dropped the gun from my face and let me let it all out, then to tell me that an organization may be looking for someone like me. From there, he takes a detour over to a megaship out in the void in a system I still do not know the name of, just to drop me off at their airlock. I see the stenciled letters among the side of the ship saying it was owned by the Pilot's Federation. I had no idea who they were back then, nor did I understand why that pilot let me go instead of just ejecting me there without any remorse, but I applied for their training.
2 years.... 2 arduous years of rigorous training and piloting lessons, drilled in information of the laws in space, and the ins and outs of each ship that would be pilotable. I will not lie, I felt at home. Only to have them tell me that I graduated and am now a member of their organization. And I am back at square one. There I was again, left alone, only to get a message that I was given a sidewinder, a sum of money, and a ride to the station holding onto said Sidewinder. Took about a month to get there, still hungry and tired, wondering what to do now, only to get a call from an old buddy of mine from the militia years ago. He saw I was accepted as a member of the Pilot's Federation and wanted to congratulate me. He arrives in a Diamondback Explorer, case of beer in one hand and a pizza in the other, his belly a bit bigger than before, but a jovial smile on his face nonetheless. I will not lie again, I was excited.
He tells me of this outfit he has been flying with, saying he could get a good word in for me and tells me he will help get me to their location to meet with the outfit leader. To this day, I still never met this man, nor do I know anything about this outfit, but I stuck with my old friend. But time catches up to you and he had to leave to handle a situation developing at the outfit, but not before helping me get used to piloting the Sidewinder and helping me make a bit of food money.
I got stir crazy.
I reverted to my old instincts, finding my targets to hunt like I did back in the militia, claimed the meager bounties I could risk to fight for, and found myself getting an old Eagle fighter. At the time, I was wracking my brain for the coordinates to the outfit he was telling me about, but I only had the name to go off of. Adnovi Security Holdings. I did what I did best, I researched and found that they had a small presence within Wolf 906.
Now I was told I would die on my way there. I was warned to have an escort to help me get there, but I am stubborn, always have been. Even with a bum eye and half of my nerve endings scorched off, I was still stubborn and kept fighting. So I found what I would need to make the trip and set off. Weak fuel scoop, an extra fuel tank, minimal weapons, and a special scanner just to make some extra cash from cartographic data. It took 2 hours to make that journey, those fuel tanks of that Eagle leaked a lot and I had to keep stopping to refuel, but I made it. I made it and I felt proud of myself. I still had the stubborn spark to keep pushing even in the worst of conditions and minimal information.
It did not take long for me to make my own purpose and plan out what I wanted to do. Which was what I did best in the Militia, I hunted. I interdicted pirate lords, hunted down mafias, and protected miners in the asteroids. I found myself with a Viper Mk 4 and an acute knowledge of Rail Guns and Multi-Cannons and went to work. My friend was not expecting to find me there so quickly and was both surprised and ecstatic since he felt this would get a great word towards the outfit leader. But at that point in time, I no longer wanted to be apart of that outfit. I didn't tell him at the time though (If you are reading this Arjuna, I apologize I didn't tell you sooner).
But this old body is getting tired. I will have to continue this in another log.