[ROLEPLAY] War and Rest
24 Jan 2024CrazyGolm
War and Rest - January 3310Dreams are a strange thing, and a poorly understood thing.
As this particular man slept, he saw things.
In his mind’s eye he saw the cosmos in all their majesty, and a little Cobra soaring amongst them. He felt wonder, adventure, amazement.
He saw star maps that did not exist, and he yearned to see the jewel that burns.
Then his dreams turned to nightmares.
He was thrust back to his childhood school, and his excuse for not completing his homework was that he shouldn’t be here: he had long since graduated and become a Pilots’ Federation Commander.
Then he witnessed flames, destruction, and the lidless eyes of octagonal craft from the deep.
He saw a Fer-de-Lance spinning helplessly, shedding orange panels as its hull fragmented.
Then the barrel of a pistol, levelled directly at him. The cruel grin of a cruel operative, and that was that.
The man known as Commander CrazyGolm jolted awake.
He glanced around, before realizing that his sudden movement had made him float upwards. It took him a moment to find his bearings, especially in zero-g.
He was onboard Golm’s Kitchen, currently stationed in the Yan Zangata system. His room’s clock glowed a friendly blue colour in the dark, and indicated it was around 03:30 standard galactic time. With tannoys disabled at night, the only audible sound was the gentle thrum of the carrier’s generators.
Golm sighed. It was too early for breakfast. He was finding it hard to sleep lately. Perhaps that was normal, after all that had happened.
The hunt to activate a Thargoid Surface Site had dragged him back into the Thargoid War.
He had come to HIP 30158 for his own interests: to salvage a Thargoid Probe in the midst of the system-wide Thargoid Alert. He had rescued a group of people while he was there, and delivered them safely to the neighbouring Yan Zangata system.
And then HIP 30158 had burned as the Thargoid presence escalated to a full-scale invasion this week. Despite being uneasy of much contact with the Empire, Golm had come to its defence, running towards the flames, perhaps out of a sense of guilt of not helping before.
Thankfully, the defence of HIP 30158 had been victorious, but there was little time to celebrate. Other systems, such as Montioch, were about to fall. Now Yan Zangata itself was on the verge of an impending invasion. He hoped those folks he had rescued were still safe.
Golm wasn’t sure why, but he felt as though he had flown better in anti-xeno combat than before. He wondered if that was the Pivot modifications at work. Or perhaps it was just his ship: he’d had the idea to switch modules in his Krait MK2 to increase its overall module protection, and it had fared better than expected.
Pivot. The rumoured genetically engineered super-pilot scheme. He had been an involuntary part of it. Was this why his brain was so active in the small hours?
Golm could not forget his brush with the Club. He may have thwarted them this time, but now and again the events that had transpired would hit his mind afresh. They had tried to murder him. The operative responsible was in Agency custody, but in his mind’s eye Golm still saw the moment of his own execution. The Agency had been investigating links to the Club, but the trail had gone cold.
They were still out there, he knew that for certain.
On good news, he had taken a ferry out to Colonia again, this time for some filming. He had got back just after Christmas to spend time with his family.
Also, he had resprayed the [IDA] Rubber-Dubber. It now bore a primarily orange sortie paintjob with yellow markings, indicative of a fearsome bounty hunter. After many years, and after the action it had been through, it was about time.
It was half past three in the morning. He couldn’t sleep. How could he rest?
“Rest is not always sleep,” he mused.
His mag-socks softly clicking on the floor, Golm walked over to his desk. Beside his opaque helmet lay a little paper book, a Bible. Golm opened it and began to quietly pray.