Log 10: A New Life (Again)
13 Nov 2020Tala Wren
I am so glad I listened to my instincts, and left Silves Dock.After finally making it back to the port I have tentatively called "home" for the last few months, I faced one of the scariest moments of my life. And I've faced down trained Imperial soldiers and combat pilots!
I was going through my post-landing checklist, looking over Razorcrest with a ground team so that maintennance could be performed, when I noticed two men standing near the edge of the pad, just sort of observing everything. Normally, I wouldn't have thought anything of it, but I was on high alert; surely an escaped Imperial slave and revolutionary like myself would be a suspicious person to Imperial Intelligence. But all they did was watch as the team and I located and identified all of the maintenance Razorcrest needed, which needles to say, was a lot. I don't think there was a single component that didn't receive some kind of care and attention; 50,000 lightyears in the black will do that to a ship. The two men left before we were finished, and I hoped that would be the last I saw of them.
It wasn't.
Once the maintenance team had gotten to work with repairs, and applying a new coat of paint, I popped down into the starport's main hub, to grab a bite to eat in my favorite bar; it had been weeks since I had eaten a proper meal with other people, and I wanted to maybe catch up on some of the chatter going around now.
Guess who showed up while I was halfway through a bowl of batter-fried fish and a glass of Lavian brandy?
It was those two men I saw at the landing pad; my heart jumped a beat, and my mind began racing as I tried to plan out my exit strategy. I had no idea what they wanted, but I was fairly confident they were Imperial Intelligence agents, and while I didn't want to just start shooting and fighting my way out, I also didn't exactly want to get taken away to wherever the IISS vanishes people away to.
While I was silently weighing my options for escape, they started with some idle chit-chat, and then quickly they got down to business; it turns out, they just wanted information about the whereabouts of someone else, a commander who apparently frequents Silves Dock. I told them I didn't recognize the name, which was the honest truth, and beside, I just returned from a very long journey out in the black, exploring the stars; any knowledge I would've about this person would've been weeks old, anyways.
The two agents were convinced I had nothing to offer them; after all, why would they doubt a true story, especially when they saw the very clear evidence on the landing pad?
I was relieved when they left, and then immediately I felt that sense of dread again; I had to leave. So, I contacted that friend of mine, the one who just recently purchased and outfitted a carrier; he goes by the name Spectre, though I have no idea if that's actually his name or not. I took him up on his offer to live and work out of and, in part, for, his carrier, the Breach of Rule 9, a name which I don't understand, and which he assures me is just an inside joke amongst a small group of his friends.
The carrier is gorgeous, and there is a lot of room and space; I have the option to sleep and live in the living quarters at the front, which I happily do when I'm weary of sleeping aboard my ships.
The carrier has a dedicated crew, as all carriers do, as well as a motley crew of commanders operating out of and living aboard it, all of whom I know very well from Silves and Komovoy.
This crew of commanders operates as a sort of loose freelance mercenary company, with varying loyalties and ideals, and doing all sorts of jobs, although mercenary work is highly favored.
I look forward to future endeavours as a member of this crew; I've already shown them that I am incredibly valuable with my knowledge of trade and cargo hauling, helped by the fact that I own a massive Type 9 that is nothing but a cargo rack with thrusters on the back.
This is my third life, and it will be a good one.