Early April 3307 - Joining A Squadron
29 Jul 2022Titus A. Cromwell
9th April, four pints past 08:17. Somehow, the Hero of Adan managed to collect the absolute worst pirates anyone could image. Mudhrid was a near disaster. Titus was tired of leading his own squadron of privateers. Tired of being the “old man” at 35. These new pilots were hapless.He also found that he not only had to lead these kids in battle but also in just about everything else. They were all followers waiting to be led, not the razors he had hoped to collect and lead. He practically had to aim their multicannons for them. Not only did it seem that the outcome of each battle was solely his to win or lose. These younger pilots always needed to be told what to do. ALL. THE. TIME. What's worse is that they didn’t know how to get themselves out of trouble.
Titus took another long gulp and bowed his head in disbelief. Is this what the Empire has to offer? In space or in port it was always the same with these young pilots. Reflecting back on the more hopeless cases he could clearly see them all replay in his head:
“She stole my husband!” BANG!
“I only shot him because he was cutting that there Centauri Mega Gin with cheap Bootleg Liquor!” BANG!
“He threw his-self at me lady!“ BANG!
“Hey you. I’ll give yer a case of my best Bast Snake Gin for an hour with the girl.”
“She's my daughter.”
“OK, two cases for the night.” BANG!
“Why are them Federation Security Ships following us?” BOOM!
"Twins!? Well, I didn't know I had it in me. Let's go tell your husband!" BANG! BANG! BANG!
“How was I supposed to know he was the Station Master’s son.” BANG!
“Now look here! There was no way we all could’ve known she was your grandmother. We just thought, ya know, she was good wool.” BANG!
“I already scanned her. It says here she’s Elite. Both of us are Competent. Two on one. Let’s go steal her cargo.” BOOM! BOOM!
“I already paid her for her services, honest I did!” BANG!
“I had no idea them there Occupied Escape Pods was already empty!” BANG!
“I didn’t know her wife was coming home so soon.” BANG!
Over and over again, on and on and on it went. They were the worst pirates. Period. End of story.
Oh, and it was tough always trying to find new replacement pilots. They couldn’t take care of themselves in port, no less in space. They had no initiative. No smarts at all. They all reminded him his youngest back home, having to lead him to wipe his own backside. It was all becoming so tiresome.
They were THE WORST pirates he could ever have imagined. And they were his. He didn't think he would survive another battle with these boys and girls.
So, while thinking about what to do Titus paid off his surviving privateers out of regular, bought them all several rounds and bade them good luck. They were gonna need it. Then he released them from their obligations.
21:30 that night. Another long gulp and he motioned for another pint.
While pondering his next move at the bottom of his next pint Titus ran into an Imperial Corsair who bellied up next to him at the bar. She was a real dusky crossway breezer. Very easy on the eyes, she was definitely not hard to look at.
With a very forceful whack on the back shoulder she bellowed with a smirk, "What you look'n at handsome?"
A few more pints that and it was an easy passage that night. This had Titus thinking, “What the hell? These Imperial Corsair types fit my constitution like a glove. Literally.”
Considering his options Titus Cromwell decided to join the Imperial Corsairs. If he was going to have to fly with children, he may as well fly with grownup children. He didn't even have to be in charge. At least Imperial Corsairs can take care of themselves. More or less. Even if they did get into more trouble than was good for them. Hell, he was already rich. Even if he pissed away his fortune, his wife had her own. Also, he was already a privateer, passed over by the Imperial Navy.
With the proverbial thanks for your previous service type of pat on the back it was the navy's way of saying, "See ya old man. Thanks but no thanks."
They sent him out the door with an Imperial Letter of Marque. They certainly didn't seem to have any operational need for him anymore. So what the hell?
Flying under someone else’s Imperial Letter instead of his own seemed a lot less stressful. He didn’t have to think about logistics, security, nor anyone else finances. He was pretty sure he wouldn't even have to get rid of any more bodies. It seemed like a pretty good deal. He could maraud the galaxy at will. He just had to take care of himself. And if he got into a pinch? Well, that Letter of Marque was a helpful get out of jail free card.