Recollections, Entry 3
12 May 2016Astrachalasia
It is important that whoever finds this ship in the years to come, if anyone finds it at all, knows who I am. My death will be a cruel message- this galaxy is dangerous, and unforgiving, and anyone who journeys beyond their home system needs to know that. Needs to know that there are risks to these things. I, more than anyone, understand that now.As a child, I grew up on a small, swamp planet. I don't know the name of it- I suppose my parents died there when I was an infant. I don't know why my life started there, or how, or who my parents were, or what I was named. There were few that lived on that planet. At around 14, an old man near me died, leaving his spaceship, a ship I now know was a beaten down old Sidewinder. No FSD. I told myself that if I died, it wasn't going to be of boredom (ironic, given my current situation) so with no knowledge of spaceships other then that they exist, I manned the Sidewinder's sticks. It took 3 days for me to figure out how to get out of orbit- I couldn't figure out how to increase my acceleration. I was going to a far away system, I told myself. Helios had a different plan.
My thrusters gave out not far from my home planet. Caught in another swamp world's gravitational pull, I crashed, stuck, yet again, on a planet of muck and green. I owe my life to an old hermit that pulled me from the crash site and brought me to his home (this planet, though still scarce on people, had a bigger population than my previous home). He fed me. He clothed me. Then he kicked me out. For that, I hated him for three months. Until one day, the technology lacking, non-advanced reality that I knew came to an end.
I was 16 when those mercenaries came for the old hermit. "Let him die," my mind said. "Let him live," my conscious argued back. It's times like these that show that a little bit of good is truly generous for a human life- I went to his house while he was being attacked. He showed no signs of resilience, just laid there and took the punches. I tackled a merc, the smaller of the two. He pulled out a dagger- his worst mistake. The old hermit leaped in the air, pulled out a gleaming, silver sword, and took out both of the mercenaries in one fell swoop. I had always imagined an old man behind that hood- put when he showed his face, it was a brave, experienced one. As he stood up straight for the first time ever, I understood that this man was not who I thought he was. Sheathing his sword, he looked at me briefly. Upon examining my character, his expression changed from anger to amazement. I believe that in that moment, this man knew exactly what he was going to do for the rest of his life. He had a plan. If only I knew then.
This man's name was Joseph Pompeii. The greatest man I ever knew. He never failed to see the good in things. His stride, his eyes, his character, were all that of a man you can trust with your life. He was a Justicar. Actually, he was my Justicar. He took me through the Galaxy, bringing me to 27 Kappa Persei and had me approved as his apprentice. My new mentor taught me everything I know now. He showed me discipline, and honesty, and honor. He taught me how to sword fight with the best of them, and he taught me how to shoot with deadly accuracy. He showed me how to pilot a ship, and through him, I became proficient in piloting and combat. By 17, I could singlehandedly hold off 5 or more masters of martial arts by myself. He taught me about the economy, and politics. He showed me Helios, and how the Justicar Rank System works. He gave me my risk assessing skills, and my desire to know the universe, but most of all, he gave me a new life; a life of respect, and responsibility and knowledge. I owe everything to him.
During the last mission of my apprenticeship, Joseph and I were tasked with clearing a space station of pirates in the name of Helios. I was excited- my last mission with Pompeii as a mentor. Soon I would be a Justicar. I was not smiling by the end of the day.
Joseph Pompeii did not make it out of that space station. While I was busy fighting off waves of pirates, he was stabbed through the back by an assassin, specifically hired to kill him. His last words
are etched into the back of my mind: "If only there were more time, Justicar. I love you."
It is customary that a Justicar apprentice receives his mentor's sword when he dies. But I wasn't ready. I had only just become a Justicar myself, and I was already to recieve my master's Gladius? So soon after his death? No. I couldn't. That sword still sits in the cockpit I am in now. I have never used it in my
life.
I'm sorry if this entry was long, but it was necessary. I wouldn't feel right if I was the only person who knew that there are some people out there that would cross galaxies for you. Joseph Pompeiis are a rare and valuable commodity. I am ever grateful to mine.