3308-11-11 Eurybia
11 Nov 2023TechnoNomadic
Where to begin, really. Certainly not at the beginning. There is far too much embarrassing awkwardness surrounding my first years in the pilot's seat. But I suppose it feels like I was given a fresh start, so I'll begin there. The last thing I remembered was getting dragged out of supercruise. That was nothing special, nor was coming canopy to canopy with a Cyclops. But when the field collapsed, it catapulted me into the Thargoid, and understandably it took offense. As it dismantled the ship out from under me, my air supply ticked down to the last few seconds. The indicators on the ejection system flashed failure. Not wanting to be added to the list of captured, I hammered the boost and wrung the engines for everything they had left, disengaging the flight assist. The bulkheads around me groaned under the stress as parts tore away and littered themselves along my thruster trails. I tried to kick at the floor plates, hoping to jar the hatch interlocks preventing the ejection system from throwing me out of the ship. The last thing I saw before my vision went black was the radar showed a new ship had jumped in.When I opened my eyes, I was looking at the face of a rather tired-looking commander, and the lid of the escape pod was propped open with a mop. I fell back unconscious and when I next woke up I was in the infirmary. The doctor told me I was lucky to have the Remlok. Even though the escape pod had activated, it had been damaged and the systems never engaged. Only the power conduit worked, but it was enough to keep the suit powered. It was mid-way through 3306 when my ship was destroyed, and now 3308 was nearly over. So how did that happen you ask? Why did it take almost three years for someone to find my glorified space coffin? Well, they had. But there was a bit of a rush, and it was stored with a bunch of other unclassified cargo. It was an overzealous janitor who was cleaning up after a party. Thinking someone had passed out in an old pod, or had gotten up to drunkenly trying to help build the population in a confined space for one, he disengaged the locks. It was the Valhalla's Vanquished squad patch that told him I was out of place.
So there I was, on a fleet carrier, surrounded by refugees from Evangelis. I recognized some of the commanders' names both from comms traffic and while I was out mapping systems. I found out that I slept through the beginning of the Thargoid War. When I contacted the Pilots' Federation to be reinstated as an active commander, I was relieved to see that all of my ships had been preserved. Lucky me, none of them were on stations that had been destroyed. I just had to hitch a ride back to Ande. The squadron comms were silent, and none of the other commanders were heading that way, being preoccupied with destroying a new type of Thargoid, the Orthrus. They did host a small welcome-back party for me, but everything I had to talk about was all "the old days" to them.
I shuttle-hopped my way back to Ande afterward. When my boots hit the deck at Howe Vision, I expected a flood of updates. Silence, not one message new or old in comms. I went up to the lounge and didn't recognize anyone, just the computer in the station still registered my reputation. I began to think it was a mistake to be in Ande. Gone was the rush and expectation of change, Creed of Valhalla was firmly in control of things. It felt like the job I had there had been downsized and I was the last to be told to empty my desk. Before I took the lift down to the hangars, I ordered one of the new suits and some gear for it. Far to the back were the ships I had there. They were a little dusty, but one trip around a star pulling hydrogen would vaporize it.
I had a decision to make. I had three ships here, the rest were either at Hackworth, Jameson's, or at a mining colony near a low-temperature diamond hot spot. Angurvadal's sleek profile beckoned and while I knew getting into my FDL might bring me that feeling of being comfortably employed, I didn't even know what I would be fighting for. It surely wasn't outfitted for taking down the Thargoids which seemed to be the hot thing going on. I took a deep breath as I walked past my Cobra, faithfully reconstructed though it was, I could not bear the look of it. Instead, I walked towards the mandibles of my Phantom. Tanngnjostr and I had spent thousands and thousands of light years together. I climbed the steps and the systems began to come online as I walked forwards into the cockpit and settled into the seat. The padding gave away, thoroughly broken in. The controls were still glossy, worn by my gloves. I looked at the comms one last time. The cursor blinked back. I knew the moment I sat down, old squad mates would get pinged with notifications, but I saw none of theirs. I thought I wasn't needed anymore. At least not around Ande or Odin's. Everyone's moved on. But I had a new suit to break in.
I sent messages back to the Marauders Vanguard commanders that I had made it back to my ships and paged the station for a launch. As I jumped, system after system, scanning, sending probes, and getting used to the itch of the contact pads in the new suit I caught up on the past years' news. Gone was the idea that there could have been peaceful collaboration Thargoids. One day, while down on a planet that for once didn't have bark mounds, I looked up at the ship. I remembered I still had peacemaker's livery on it and all my other ships. The people that had salvaged my escape pod had lost their home, and billions of people had been killed, captured, or displaced. I kicked in my jump pack and burned off that decal. I called up Marauders Vanguard and was overwhelmed by their enthusiasm to the idea of my changing allegiances to them. I didn't have a home anymore either.
So I was off to Yembo, and transferring my ships over to Naddoddur, I settled once more into Angurvadal's deep cockpit and went back to work. I quickly became a known ally and it was time to change gears. Or in the this time gear. Angurvadal was outdated. We were off to visit weapons dealers and engineers. And this is why I have been woken up by another explosion. Liz's experiments with bigger and better booms never stop. Flowers to her are the flash of a detonation and the spreading petals of ash. I've heard rumors that the vibrations of explosions are the only thing that gets her going. So I'm smuggling landmines in a ship that's all engines and weapons until I can get her attention long enough to work on something of mine. It's going to be fun to edge her so hard when I only want some armor reinforcement. I just hope I can thread my way back through the brown dwarf desert. For now, I need to get out of here, and sleep somewhere else before she keeps me up all night again.