CMDR LOG #4: 02-SEP-3301 13:43:23
02 Sep 2015Reykur
[BEGIN RECORDING]I have been lapse in recording commander logs. I admit that it feels as though the past month has contained little of note, though I should have at minimum reported some of my movements and acquisitions for posterity. As my asset logs make plain, I have had a massive influx of credits, and my fleet has grown considerably. The sheer length of this log will hopefully fill in the gaps to record how I've become moderately wealthy. Unfortunately, being a bounty hunter, it wasn't at the expense of pirates. Dear God, what have I become?
I admit I'm almost ashamed to report this shift in my normal MO. On Ghost Squadron's encrypted comms, several pilots had been discussing the lucrative money being made in [
Therefore, my original plan of stepping back to targeted assassinations was placed on hold. I sent Ivy's Grace into drydock in Fusang, collected my remaining bounty payouts, and used the overwhelming bulk of my assets in the relatively nearby system of Kewemargl where I had acquired the Courier Starsight to purchase an Imperial Clipper. The transaction fortunately was both smooth and timely, as with the recent assassination of the Emperor the temporary lift on rank requirements for the Clipper have been rescinded. Trust the Empire to be petty, even in a time of mourning... but I digress. The ship was transferred and christened the Aurora Wind - an appropriate name given the sheer elegance of the craft. If I was going to perform the mid-numbing task of hauling countless tons of cargo, I was going to do it in comfort!
The station dock was able to quickly rig the Clipper for long-distance travel - a must if I was to make it to my destination in time. I had arranged to briefly meet with a couple Ghost Squadron commanders that had generously offered to introduce me to my new (hopefully temporary) trade - no pun intended. Arriving well ahead of time at the station, I was able to get it into the shipyard and have every square inch of the Aurora Wind that wasn't devoted to my comfort reconfigured for cargo. The ship is flashy enough that I expect it will garner attention, but being a vessel that typically runs heavily armed, my gamble was that any local pirates would ignore the craft, seeking the more defenseless freighters. Hide the cargo in plain sight. I also had the shipyard lighten the components as much as possible to make the 17ly jump possible in one shot. In the end I was able to edge out the range by lightening the fuel tanks, of all things. The computer calculated I would still use only 2/3 of a tank, and I would be able to refuel between hops.
My new compatriots proved good to their word, introducing me to their local contacts and giving me a fairly comprehensive guide on protocols and procedures. It was fairly standard, but the familiarity at least made the transition to this life smooth. Under their expert guidance (and their matching Anacondas), I felt confident in my success as the local port authority filled my hold with the cargo I had purchased: Imperial Slaves, cryogenically suspended in their tanks, totally unaware of their travels, likely unaware of the system they will wake up in - if they wake up at all.
My ship finally prepared for departure, I requested launch clearance alongside my partners, and the magnetic locks released. The landing gear of the Aurora Wind gently lifted clear of the platform while the computer confidently matched the rotation of the Coriolis station. Hands on the controls, I began raising the ship to be more in-line with the docking access bays, noting the sluggish response of the lateral and vertical thrusters on the behemoth due to the relatively under-tuned systems I had selected to save weight. Still, the Wind responded confidently, and the cool blue of the vanity lighting in the cockpit soothed my temporary anxiety. The engines, at least, were responsive and powerful, and the ship fast enough to outrun just about anything that could threaten it apart from another Clipper or wing of Cobras.
As the Aurora Wind emerged into the darkness, trailed by two Anacondas, I plotted my course, aligned for my destination, and jumped.
Over the course of the next few weeks, I continued this repetition, passing the time in supercruise by asking the computer about any random trivia I could think of, or watching feeds of CQC battles, or anything else to break the tedium. On rare occasion a brave pilot would interdict the Wind's FTL drive. Knowing the sort, I would always follow the same routine: Instantly submit and deploy hardpoints. Generally this falsely aggressive behavior would give my would-be aggressor a moments hesitation, enough to watch my boost ignite and my engines become small bright points of light as they realized they'd been duped, and too far behind to engage. That they couldn't see it didn't stop me from making lewd gestures over my shoulder as my FSD would spool up to re-enter supercruise.
It wasn't long before conflict spontaneously broke out in my new home, just 14ls from my port-of-call. With the Vulture-class Ivy's Grace still mothballed in Fusang, and the Aurora still configured for hauling cargo, I purchased a second Vulture with an identical loadout to the Grace, christened Ivy's Vengeance. Noting several other commanders of Ghost Squadron similarly preparing for battle, we quickly formed an ad-hoc wing, and leaped into the fray.
I admit that I was curious to see my fellow pilots in action. Everything I knew of their capability was here-say and reputation. I was pleased to find that the pilots lived up to the hype. They were not only exceeding capable, but equally ruthless in their destruction of the insurgents. Like a shadow, our wing danced across the battlefield, the emptiness of space lit here and there by the deaths of nameless enemies.
With the tide of battle sharply in the favor of our allies, and ourselves thoroughly exhausted, scorched, and fuel-starved (and frankly a bit hungry), our wing retired from the fight. While I didn't witness the final retreat of our opponents, I don't doubt that the defeat was both resounding and humiliating.
With the conflict ended, space once again was relatively safe for trade and travel. And so I stored the Vengeance and climbed back into the cockpit of the Aurora Wind, once again resigning myself to the repetitive life of hauling goods.
The days passed, and my credit balance continued to climb until I found myself in the enviable position of being able to purchase a Python class ship. While I can't remember exactly where I found it, I do recall walking around the outside of the ship in considerable awe. It was smaller by comparison to the Clipper. However, having a much more spartan interior, I realized that I would probably be able to outfit it - temporarily - for cargo transport. With the success of my ruse hiding cargo in what normally would be an armed transport vessel, I could think of no better next step that hiding it in the very ship many of my aggressors (and victims) use day to day. So I purchased the Python and had her outfitted with a relatively light armament for transport to my trading hubs. We arrived without incident.
As she sat in the station, I took the time to walk through the various systems in the ship making notes about what room could be made for more cargo. I admit I was nervous - the ship barely had the range of the Aurora Wind even before I had lightened her internals. I wasn't sure if I would be able to make the jump, and until the ship was actually outfitted, the on-board computer was no help in relieving my anxiety. Notes in hand, I exited the craft, and took another glance at the hull. I needed the ship to look imposing, threatening. I recalled a Python back in Wolf 908 that a particular group of pirates were fond of. For a typically fragmented group, these pirates understood the strategy in flying in uniform. No personal touches seemed to exist on the hulls, with the exception of what appeared to be a designation number of some kind - the meaning I was never able to truly figure out. Each ship, Pythons, Cobras, and Eagles alike, were painted red with black gashes across the ship's topside, as if some great space-creature had raked the hull before being unceremoniously dispatched.
Deciding to emulate the mimicry trait that some species of animals exhibit to ward off predators, I settled on the design and went to have her outfitted.
The shipwright I spoke with took my specifications, and was able to get the drydock to reconfigure and paint the ship in an impressive amount of time. I thanked him, slipping him something extra in exchange for his word that the true nature of the ship was to remain between the two of us. In answer, he pulled up the order at his terminal and, giving me a wink, deleted it. I smiled and walked towards the hangar, contemplating a name for the newest addition to my fleet. As I first laid eyes on the gleaming hull, red and black - the perfect image of overt menace - the name came to me. The Scarlet Woe.
Since purchasing Scarlet, times have been quiet. Having recovered a considerable chunk of my liquid assets, I opted to take a week off and relax. [
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