My Beginning...
22 Sep 2019Starwynder
My beginning was pretty boring. I worked for the Federation as just another peacekeeper. A rent-a-cop armed with fictitious authority and a suit of armor that smelled like at least two other former occupants had died within it. I'd spent the last 18 months working on Trevithick Dock in the LHS 3447 system. There is no more destitute mining platform any where in the galaxy. Of that, I was completely sure. That also meant there was nothing for me to spent credits on. Not a damn thing.We woke up, went to work, came back to the dorms, ate our ration, and went to sleep. Sometimes there were distractions like organized fights or a movie hosted by the Federation, but life was dull.
Then one day, everything changed. There was some old miner who limped a beat up old Sidewinder on to docking platform 1. The ship leaked a suspicious brown liquid and there was more rust on the thing than paint. I found the rust particularly interesting because for any metal to oxidize, it has to be exposed to oxygen... and there's not much of that in the emptiness of space.
Anyway, the old man checked in with me at security and said he was done. He had heard on Galnet a transport would be coming through the system the following week headed out for Sol and he was ready to go home. I remember being impressed I'd met someone that had actually been born in the home system.
I honestly didn't know where I'd been born. I was an orphan. Raised in several orphanages and foster homes. As I grew older, it always seemed I had to move on to some other place so I could "be with those of my age." I suppose that's just the life of a ward of the state. I really didn't get into trouble and I was a pretty good kid. The only thing the Federation knew for sure was my name was Remus Arrius Starwynder and I had been born on April 15, 3267. Everything else was lost when the system's data archive ate a virus and died. But what the hell does the Federation care about losing some trivial data about orphans? Not much.
This old man had seen his share of the black. I still had two more years on my contract with the Federation, but I found myself asking what he planned to do with his ship. The old man whispered something in my ear that ended up changing my life forever.
"She's not much to look at, son... but she'll take you where you should be."
Deserting your post was a crime. Every military in history dealt with deserters about the same way. If you were caught, you were brought before a military tribunal and most likely executed. But the old man's words echoed in my head like an itch inside my brain that I couldn't reach. I tossed and turned that night in my bunk, unable to sleep.
"She'll take you where you should be," I kept hearing in my head. Where I should be? Does that mean I shouldn't be right here, doing what I'm doing? And who the hell is this guy telling me where I should and shouldn't be? But I'd be lying to myself if I even pretended to be happy slogging through this life with only a few thousand credits to my name.
When the lights kicked on above my bed, I got cleaned up, dressed, and made my way to the chow hall for breakfast. I shoveled the Federation's goop into my mount with a hand made spoon pounded into shape from scrap. This was the exact same morning ritual I had done for the last six months at this place.
All of the sudden, something deep down inside me just.... SNAPPED. I was done with the goop for breakfast. I was done with this set of armor that always stank no matter I did. I was just done. With everything.
I found the old man babysitting 3 containers full of his belongings just outside the airlock for docking pad 3. Adrenaline surged through my body but I was almost a delirious sort of happy. I looked the old man in the eye and asked what he wanted for the Sidewinder. He chuckled and asked if I was serious. I assured him that I was serious and pulled out the payment interface which held the digital equivalent of credits.
The old man threw a hand up in my face and shook his head.
"Son, what you're a-thinkin' about doin' is a hanging crime. You know that right?" he said.
I slowly nodded my head.
His eyes closed and he took a deep breath. Then leaning back against the bulkhead, the old man said, "I thought you were a-lookin' like a fella who was needin' ta stretch his legs."
"I don't know," I said. "I'm not even sure what I'd do or where I'd go, I just know I'd rather die in that piece of shit you flew in than live another day here."
With a curt nod, a knowing wink, he tossed the security card at me. I caught it with both hands and just stared down at it for a moment. When I looked up, the old man had a bottle in his had. A flask.
"Go on, boy," he said. "I'll give you some time by causin' a rucuss. Then they'll have ta get me on that transport for sure."
A few minutes later, a voice on the comms unit was dispatching me and two other patrols to the old man's position. Apparently an elderly citizen at the location was intoxicated and giving the maintenance staff grief over losing some of his personal effects.
A small smile spread slowly across my face. All internal security would be heading to the disturbance at platform 3 and I was heading to the other end of the station for platform 1. There was no airborne unit flying outside because this was a mining station. I had my duffel bag on my back which held every last belonging I had.
A few moments later I had the throttle of the Sidewinder smashed forward as far as it would go and the nav computer was preparing a jump to another system. I hadn't even looked which system I was jumping to, I just pushed buttons. As the frameshift drive was counting down, I head the comms in the Sidewinder start an angry sounding call ordering the CMDR of the Sidewinder to heave to and return to the platform.
"Huh, I guess I'm a CMDR now," I thought.
With a grin, I keyed my microphone just long enough for the person on the other end of the conversation to hear a single word before the ship tore a hole into Witchspace:
ENGAGE!