What we collect out in the dust and debris
07 Feb 2020Nirakoji
07 February 3306Borann A2, Borann
From the bridge of the Colossae
KrakaBOOM! I chuckle as I brace in my seat for the visible shockwave rolling toward me through the cosmic dust. "Bet you boys heard that one over the comms, eh? That's paydirt!" Kilovian, Duke, and Mercer whoop and cheer as they continue to probe the asteroid fields in their respective ships.
The past few months have been a whirlwind. From being a greenhorn hustling to make ends meet on the courier routes (being fired from more than a few contracts by dissatisfied employers) to seeing assets fly over a billion and collecting a small personal fleet, I've been busy. The Antioch has been dry-docked for upgrading for several weeks now.
The Ephesus has been a busy workhorse. Through negotiating work orders with a variety of rag-tag "engineers" (the title fits loosely for the majority of the hands I've shaken), she's been tuned to sail through the stars. And that she's done. She's taken me to the near galactic rim, where rumour had it that crystal fields were scattered around two systems in relatively close proximity. The rumours weren't wrong, and after a few days trundling through alien vistas, the veritable El Dorado of rare raw materials had my storage bins full to overflowing. The Antioch has hefty company in the drydocks, and these bins are likely to be depleted soon.
I mutter under my breath as a constellation of limpets sets to work in a cheery frenzy of collecting tonnes of low-temperature diamonds. A forest of frost begins to grow over the Colossae's bridge viewport. This Imperial Clipper has been a resounding answer to the pirate problem I ran into with the Antioch earlier. I haven't met a pirate that can keep up with the over 500m/s boosting, though one dogged one chased me persistently at a distance I thought was comfortably far away. No matter. It might as well have been raining for the amount of damage my shields were soaking for the brief moment before I meep-meeped my way out of there like a child's cartoon. The Colossae is certainly my most adept Imperial prize, until the Cutter Constantinople is properly upgraded. Truly, the past two months have been productive.
Perhaps the best experience over the past two months, however, is what happens between the explosions and the limpets - the laughter and company of squadmates out in the void. Ordo Corona Stellarum, the Order of the Crown of the Stars, is perhaps the crowning achievement of intrepid commandeering through the galaxy. One pilot can make a small difference in the galaxy, and that is not altogether insignificant. But perhaps, our greatest achievements as humans is the friendships we forge to accomplish goals bigger than any one of us could do alone. For that, I'm both grateful and in awe. A fleet can gather dust like a wall of trophies, but squadmates are for memories, meaningful conversations, and laughter - and that's what this is about, anyhow. OCSN is growing into that kind of a special place.
KrakaBOOM! The sensors flash and shut down momentarily in the shockwave. This luxury Imperial bird sure is nice, but I'll need to fix up that paint before long. And perhaps more than the paint. Kilovian flying like a one-winged goose right now also happens to be a legitimate reason to keep a few pips to shields, anyhow. I pity the shipping lanes. There's more than one way to leave your mark on the galaxy, anyhow.
