Captain's Log: Arrested for Doing Good
19 May 2021Pon Pon
Well, my basically brand new Clipper didn't last long. She's now a flaming pile of scrap, pressed into the side of the access corridor in Donar's Oak. Really makes me lose respect for the design of the ship.I guess I should start from the beginning, though. As you may know, I've been in Delphi for the past few days, risking my life to play the hero and pull evacuees out of Donar's Oak. I've lost count of how many people I've saved, but it must be over a thousand at this point--and, while last night the passenger lounge was looking to be starting to clear up, it's filled right back up. There are still just as many people to save today as there were yesterday, and so I continue to work, exhausted but happy. That's right, happy: Just a few hours ago, a refugee offered to buy me a meal in the rescue ship's canteen. Now, I figured they must have been someone I saved, and I'm never one to turn down a free meal, so I gratefully accepted their token gesture. We got to talking, and I found out: They weren't even from Donar's Oak. They were on the rescue ship, waiting to see if their extended family would make it safely out of the burning station.
It was... Strange. I'm used to the galaxy being such a cutthroat place. I keep my wits about me when walking station halls, and I'm used to suspicious glares when I enter a room. Some people, hearing I trade all legal goods, treat me like scum, and the most pleasant encounter I usually have is a customer service smile. So to be offered a meal in a place like this is, frankly, unnerving. They're not returning a favour, and they apparently didn't expect anything in return apart from a meal partner. I've realized that saving those people, however futile in the grand scheme of things, is worth the time and effort, but this really drove home how important every individual I save is.
As it turns out though, today was the day I would find myself in a spot of trouble--legally speaking, yes, but also physically. It was a standard rescue mission, same as I've been doing the past few days. And, in those days I've had close scrapes with destruction countless times. But I always kept my cool, vectored in, and made a safe (albeit slightly burnt and/or dented) landing. I've had explosions throw me across the corridor, I've been knocked and caught by debris; I've seen all that collapsing corridor can throw at me. Apparently not. Three consecutive explosions hit off the starboard bow, throwing my Eagle down and back. I heard a crunch ass two layers of shield collapsed, and the bottom of my ship contacted something very clearly not the landing pad. I struggled, blasting my lateral thrusters to counteract, but there wasn't much I could do. A fourth explosion threw me forward before I could regain control, wedging one of the wings between some debris, and an automated loitering warning appeared on my nav console. Well, at that point I knew the ship was done for: The elegant stylings of the wings on the rear had gotten wrapped around, and there wasn't much I could do to unstick her. The last layer of shields was long gone as the wing began to shear. Throwing on my Remlok survival mask, I ran for the door as cracks appeared in the cockpit window. The ship groaned as it's hull finally began to warp, integrity completely compromised. And, I was too late: The electrics were completely dead, and something had either jammed or melted the door shut.
So I threw myself at the canopy. Yeah, normally, the Pilot's Federation can get you out of just about anywhere. But in a docking corridor full of debris and escape pods? I would be just one more of hundreds of people to save. The glass was basically gone, though it was about a thousand degrees, and I burst through. With the low-g environment, I flew pretty damn far, and landed not as hard as I was expecting--though I wasn't out of danger just yet. Now, I was on limited air, and I could already feel the heat through my suit as I sprinted for the nearest hatch. As I drew near, a team was waiting for me and they tossed a rope so we could get back into a tolerable environment that much sooner. Not a moment too soon, I made it to safety: Let's just say I need to buy a new Remlok survival mask.
But that wasn't the end of it, no. Seconds after the medical team finished checking me out, and I had just started wondering what the insurance on my ship was, station security showed up and slapped me with a fine. Like, c'mon. I know, even in an emergency we're not savages, but loitering? My ship literally was blown up, burnt, and crushed! You think I wanted to loiter? Maybe the galaxy isn't so nice after all.
Anyways, the insurance wasn't anything, and the fine for loitering was pennies to a guy like me. A single load of passengers covered the ship replacement, and I'm right back to work. Like I said, each night I fall into one of the berths on my ship, exhausted but satisfied with what I'm doing. Even if Siruis Corp security are trying to change that.