Captain's Log: Doing My Part
17 May 2021Pon Pon
Well, I just realized something about my log entries: They practically all start the same. Says something about my vocabulary, but then again you don't need a broad linguistic ability to buy high and sell low. Not that I've been doing that for a while.It's probably not much of a surprise, but I went and bought the Imperial Clipper. I reached the rank of Baron, and having enjoyed the Eagle I decided that another Guatamaya could be a stepping stone to the T9. What probably will come as a surprise, though, it what I'm doing with it and where I am: I'm writing this from one of the berths in my Clipper, docked at the rescue ship 2 Mm out of Donar's Oak in the Delphi system. And, no, I'm not profiteering with medicine; Delphi is too far out to make a profit that way. The keen eyed of you will have already noticed: I'm in a berth, meaning, I'm helping with the evacuation of Donar's Oak. And holy crap has this been eye-opening.
First of all, it's bloody scary that the Thargoids can do so much damage. Having been born in independent space, it hit a little close to home. I wasn't that active at the time of the NMLA bombings, so I didn't have the opportunity to see, but... Honestly, walking the halls of a burning station, the sense of security they used to give me is waning. Seeing the fear on the faces of those in the passenger lounge, all their eyes on me as I pick up contracts, and the relief of those boarding as I read out their number really drives home the situation: Many of these people won't make it out alive. For every person who made it to the passenger lounge, ten more are probably trapped in the collapsing starport. And for every passenger who boards my ship, a hundred more are left behind. I set out to do humanitarian work, and by God that's what I've done. I realized that I needed to give back to the universe, that as a pilot I had the power to save lives, but... It's hard. Security has had to step in multiple times to stop people from jumping on me, or forcing their way down the access corridor to try and illegally board my ship. I wish my ship held more, but only about 80 people can fit safely. Any more would be putting the cart before the horse, especially given how I have to pilot through the chaos inside the docking bay. People could be injured, or even die, if they aren't safely seated in an economy berth when we take off.
And the docking, oh god the docking. Maybe a Type-7 would have been better for this, but I opted for the Guatamaya because of its speed and maneuverability. And I need both, to skirt around floating debris and get into a hangar ASAP, before my ship literally burns up. Among the debris are clouds of half-melted heat sinks, and I launch mine to join the ranks as an explosion throws my ship off course. It's literally hell. Right as you're about to get aligned with the landing pad, an explosion throws you in a random direction. Your shields are getting shredded as the overheat alarm blares, and all the while your only option is to land or retreat--and retreat isn't an option. I find the wings of the Clipper, being set behind the cockpit and far wider than the rest of the craft, have a tendency to "hug," or get caught on, pieces of debris; just one more thing to keep in mind when navigating the decimated docking corridor. But the slow brick of a T7? Well, it wouldn't get caught on debris as much, but I get the feeling the low maneuverability would cause other, deadlier problems.
God, what a way to christen a new ship. Normally, I try to keep the paint looking relatively clean, but right now I'm not even bothering to buff out the scratches or wipe away the scorch marks. The techs in the rescue ship have literally torn out and replaced burnt electrics and other parts every time I return, and right now they're patching some nasty holes and realigning the starboard-side thrusters that got damaged from a chain of explosions during my last rescue. I have to constantly remind myself why I'm doing this, and who I'm doing this for. It's not for my personal benefit--there are safer, and probably faster, ways of making money--but for the benefit of those I save.
There's an old story my mother used to tell me, of an old man and his grandson walking along a beach after a storm. Littered along the beach are starfish, and each time they pass a starfish, the grandfather stops to throw it back into the ocean. The grandson watches this, and looks at the countless more starfish littering the beach. Eventually, he turns and asks: "Grandfather, why do you keep throwing the starfish back into the ocean? It doesn't matter how many you throw back, there's too many of them." The grandfather smiled, and looked at his grandson. "It matters to the one I threw back."