Memoirs of an old fighter -Log #4-
06 Apr 2019Vizio Raceio
I am sorry (I can't believe I am apologizing to my own ship computer) that I haven't kept up updates in my log. I have been a bit preoccupied trying to not die from the Xenos. But I must say, looking at the carcass of a Basilisk Interceptor is quite refreshing, if not terrifying.
Well, onto the log I suppose.
There have been some interesting things that I have witnessed throughout my travels in space. Pulsars, Ammonia worlds, pirating Orcas, and the like. However, this log is not about that.
I am going to recount the Fuel Rat War. Now, I will say that I have never actually met nor have I required their services before and I do not plan to call upon them soon, as I knock on my lucky 2x4 wood block to counteract any bad juju. But these individuals deserve a lot of praise from the stories I have heard of them and their achievements across the galaxy. So when I heard Their Call to Arms, I dropped everything I had planned and loaded up all of my armament to rally towards them. I was ready for the fight, instincts firing off every direction as I blasted out of the port and plotted route to their system of Fuelem, only to be face to face with a Federal Corvette pilot staring me down from a distance. I did not want any trouble, and so sent a small text message to their display about the rallying call. I engaged my Hyperspace only to see that I am being inhibited severely as well as noticed a radar marker closing on my six.
I will be honest, I started to pray, thinking I was going to be blown to ashes as I saw the Federal Corvette slowly pass in front of me. But then, they sent a message back, "Where are we needed?" I wanted to tear up a bit. Here was this complete stranger, no idea who I was, joining the rallying call because I stated it in passing. So we head out toward Fuelem and we came across more pilots on the way, all rallied to the defense of the Fuel Rats.
I felt a bit at home when I arrived at Wollheim Vision. Just at that moment alone, there were nearly 20 other pilots who joined the rallying call, wings being formed and strike plans being created. It felt like my unit back in the Militia. And so, we got to work.
Now, I wish I could remember the War. But I still have gaps in memory. However, I do remember a very specific part of the war that will resonate with me. Thirty large ships, all in formation, flying through a warzone as they covered each other's back. Bullets, lasers, missiles and fighters whipping by in every direction. I watched our enemy fall in a violent fashion at that moment as we secured the war zone. Watching four Anacondas and three Imperial Cutters repeatedly slice through other ships in a systematic fashion is breathtaking in a sense that terrifies me, but was a beautiful sight to behold nonetheless.
Unfortunately, I must stop here. I should really try to keep these going. Time to rest these old bones after the fight from earlier.