Fly low, under the radar
10 Mar 2020Andronova
This is why I need to be in the deep dark recesses of space: people keep reaching out to connect with me. I'm not a socializer. While I enjoy a drink at the station bar, I prefer to people-watch than be the center of attention. Fly low, under the radar. That's my style.Some of these people I have zero interest in meeting, while others, the likes of Vatermann, Tani and Ishmaak, are all people I need to schedule meetings with. I believe they will help my tinkering skills and ready me for the upcoming voyages.
In spite of all of this, I've still to get on the books the one person I've been dying to meet for the longest time: Lori Jameson. I heard through the word on the station deck that she won't even consider talking to someone unless they are combat ranked as Dangerous. So now I'm going to have to suck it up, fly some contracts and rank up. Destruction just isn't my style. Some 1500 years ago, in the ol' Wild West, the stories of the fastest gun alive were an amalgamation of reality, myth, and great story-telling. But it never mattered how good someone was with a gun, how fast they could draw. In the words of a blind man, "No matter how fast you are, there's always somebody faster!"
I don't see how ranking my combat skill aligns with my personal ethos flying under the radar, but sometimes you just have to do what needs to be done.
Keep telling yourself that, Andro - it all works itself out in the end.
Still, I wonder, as my mind churns over the many different paths before me, if it will be weird meeting Lori? My great-grandfather, Arthur Croft, often wrote about the legendary John Jameson (Lori's great-grandfather) in his journals. Arthur gushed over John so much I feel I had the pleasure of meeting him myself. "Though space is vast, it is amazing how you can keep running into the same person again and again" he once wrote as he described running into John on a small moon.
There was always a sense of deep admiration in Arthur's writings, yet, I have no way of knowing if John even really knew him. John was a legend in his time, while my great-grandfather, was more of a legend in his mind. Naturally, when I heard someone had, some 150 years later, finally located Commander Jameson's ship, I dropped everything and hustled my way out to visit the site. In part to pay my respects, in part because of the huge piece of history that I felt connected to.
What I didn't expect though, when I set-up camp at that crash site a couple of years ago, was that I would re-evaluate my place in this galaxy. In my half-sleep, laying in my bunk, I heard horn-like cries in the distance, echoing across the planet... echoing through my ship.. penetrating every inch of my body - every fiber of my being.
I stumbled from my bunk and ran into the cockpit and there I saw it. A greenish glow in the distance as my ship was hit with, what I could only describe, as some sort of beam. All of the computer systems went down and I stood, motionless... helpless... watching a whispered myth become very real. This was my first encounter with them.
This semi-biological symmetrical vessel, with eight pulsating petals, gave another eerie scream while blasting it's greenish beam at the crashed cobra, before pivoting effortlessly and waking out of sight. As my ship's systems auto-rebooted and came online, it was gone.
It was... exhilarating.
And that was my wake-up call. That is why I'll do whatever it takes to explore this galaxy. But I don't think I'm looking for answers. In fact, I think I'm looking more for questions above anything else. More importantly, and this is what helps me sleep at night: I'm looking. And that is what we Croft's were born to do.
CMDRS LOG: 3306.03.10.02.09