A mixed bag of firsts (part 1)
02 Jan 2021Akiya
Akiya private journal, 3306-12-26, entry 1"I became a pilot for freedom, not for killing."
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I remember the pirate ship I was hunting exploding. And the mixed feelings that flooded me after. Relief and elation first. That had been so easy. Barely a couple hits on my shields, nothing like the conflict simulations that I kept failing during my training. Awe next. The promised reward. Higher than what I had bought Sophie's hull for. A couple like these and I would be able to pay for my parents retirement already, no need to wait for some lengthy exploration.
Then came the shame, the guilt. While I was hunting for debris to scoop - I need to invest in a couple limpets to help me with that - I found no escape pod. I had not only stopped that guy. I had killed him, in the literal sense. Not that he would have cared for my life, if I had been the one in front of his guns, but did I have the right to be happy I ended a life? Would my parents accept a retirement whose money came from taking another life?
I had never killed anyone. I wasn't raised like that. Even during the 3302 troubles, I was the one trying to be the voice of reason. Asking my fellow slaves to negotiate with the bosses our transition into employees (and helping liaise with The Princess' agents), rather than outright attacking them.
I was so disturbed by those thoughts that I only read half of my landing checklist while approaching Euclid Terminal. "Warning: landing gear not deployed!" Thanks, Verity.
After a last second save, I decided it was time to unwind. Not only from tonight, but for years of grinding studies to earn my wings. A drink in my best dress at one of those fancy bars at Seega dock, would barely make a dent in that bounty. My first real taste of what it was to be a free person with money. That meant I needed to make another flight leg again, while after collecting that bounty, I had planned to sleep here. But it also meant I would be able to sleep with some gravity - a fair price for some supercruise work.
"Don't cool down too much Sophie, as soon as I'm done with the administration here, we're going dancing!"
--
A headache. Dry mouth, wooden tongue. Light hurting my eyes. I hadn't felt like that since my 18th birthday party. Although I am clearly more comfortable now. I am not hiding on a makeshift cot in the back of Sri workshop, with my brow hurting from the completion of my tattoo, and a draft of cold air making me miserable. I am lying on a big comfortable bed, in a warm room, draped in fine sheets, with a nice warm light system.
"Are you awake?" A warm woman's voice. Familiar sounding.
Nice cool hands gently raise my head, weight depresses the mattress, and my head now rests on a warm lap. Cool fingers now massage my brow, and trace the tattoos. I thought I had put them on invisible mode while I was in Patreus or Torval-controlled space? At least until I was protected from them by earning rank in the Imperial Navy?
"Nano-ink? That's high class. Strange to mix that with a slave face-tattoo motif."
"You see them?" I try to answer, but my parched throat only lets a hoarse whisper out.
I open my eyes, and get immediately lost in the gaze above me. I remember those green eyes from yesterday. I remember that striking face, that warm smile under the short blonde hair. Gently listening to me while we drank together. Praising me for my empathy, making silly jokes to put me at ease. I remember feeling like the room was moving while listening to her laughter. Feeling so hot.
"What happened?" I ask, after clearing my throat.
Not that I find myself uncomfortable on her lap. I mean, my 22 years old virgin self being on the lap of this beautiful woman, I should count my blessings. After an adolescence when none of the female slaves my age in our settlements were into women, or at least interested by me. At least amongst those I trusted. After that crush on Sri, who was into women herself, but already in a couple and 30 years older than me. Or that other crush on that Imperial knight who visited with Unchain, and to whom I never dared say more than "Yes Madam." After that period of hard work where I wouldn't even look at anyone, afraid it would make me lose track of that dream of a Pilot Federation license.
But I don't like it when I don't understand. Too many holes in what led from that bar to this room. Are we in the same part of the terminal? Apparently, we're still under artificial gravity. Although I feel quite light. If it's not a lingering effect of whatever I ingested last night, we must be farther from the external ring, closer to the ships' hangars. Strange, that's not the part of the station I was aiming for yesterday, I was aiming for maximum fanciness, good gravity, big windows, the works. Although I don't mind a lower gravity, Godel Vista was on a 0.1g world after all, but you rarely get fancy near the ships' hangars.
"You know, when one is into tattoos themselves, they learn to see them even in invisible mode. There are telltales signs. Like your skin being a little rougher under them. But you should modify the drawings, those really look like Imperial slave motifs. You know, those motifs that they tattoo on their faces to look less desirable to those nobles so high on the body sanctity thing. Patreus network style, I would even say."
"They are. I was a slave once. Patreus network as you said. Before Princess Aisling claimed our system. They're helpful to know who you're working with too. When your foreman has them, you know she's in the shit with you, not going to put you in danger and then leave with her wage. Well, at least if she's a decent person, but there's still a better chance than with some highly paid temporary manager." I sigh and continue. "I had them replaced with nano-ink while studying for the Pilot Federation exam. The exam is hard enough, didn't want to have to fight for my right to be there with someone from a slaver family at the same time. And now, them being invisible also help interacting with authorities in systems like here."
"Oh my, I can't believe it" she giggles. "That precious pretty chick I talked to yesterday was a slave? You've been quite protected, didn't you? Or was it all an act? I'm better at detecting actors usually."
"No, it was not an act. Well, for what little I remember of yesterday? I suppose I was protected. By my parents first. The others then. Even pushed me to take the certification for the complex machinery, taking my part of the grunt work while I studied. Not all for my sake, mind you, they liked the idea of someone in the control room knowing them personally, being invested in their safety. Still, I should be thankful, I had a relatively peaceful youth I suppose."
"No scars."
"Only a little shoulder problem. Don't know if you noticed but I can't reach above or behind me with my right arm. Had to adapt my piloting procedures. What about you, how do you know so much about slaves?"
"How do you think I know all that? No visible scars either, of course, that would diminish my customer attractiveness as salon talking doll or bar furniture."
I stay silent for a moment. Not only because of the surprise. I feel something moving inside my stomach. Acid in my throat. Also, I don't know if I'm that soft, as I don't remember anything past my first drinks and our initial encounter.
"What do you remember, exactly?" she must have sensed my hesitation.
"You sitting at my table, asking for a glass. Me talking about... About Sophie, and the stars, and that pirate, I think? Don't even remember his name. And then nothing. All blank."
"Classical XO-X3 symptom" she nods. "You might be a softie, but I don't think you've drank enough for that to be the alcohol" she shakes her head. "You don't go bar hopping in a zone you don't know without a buddy. And having different drinks, and not sharing them. Ideally, one stays out of intoxicants. And you don't ask for the most expensive thing, that's displaying yourself as a mark!"
"Anyway, if you wonder how you got your dumb soft ass saved and ended here in the premium suite with me," she continues, "the answer is simple: you were staring at me like you wanted to fuck, and when I told you, you said you did want me. So we got down to it."
"We what?" I bolt upright and feel my cheeks redden. I was that shameless? That direct? With a stranger?
Now that I realise it, we're both naked on a disarrayed bed. That could clearly have happened. But I remember nothing! Isn't a first time supposed to be some special event? If possible something you enjoy with someone you trust, not something you demand of a slave while you're stoned out of your mind? Oh shit, if she's a slave and I'm not, did I just commit a rape?
Disturbed by my sudden move my stomach doesn't let me dwell on it more.
"Toilet, talk later". I launch towards what I suppose is the door to the bathroom. Nearly fly to it, thanks to the low gravity. Reflexes born of a life on a 0.1g world takeover even in my state.
"First door on the left. The real left, port for you dumb spacer! Don't hurl in the jacuzzi!"
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OOC: Edited 2021-01-10 to go around the lack of artificial gravity in ED lore. Yes, I didn't actually spent the night at Seega Dock in-game, but I needed that rotating ring for the story: don't look too closely at my flight logs! (at least, this is still the correct system)
Thanks for reading that story that included nearly no in-game content. A second part is in the works. Please don't hesitate to reach out with comments or to point my English mistakes. I know English is not my native language, so I won't get mad. And I'm always eager for suggestions to augment my roleplay or give me new in-game objectives.
That one was an idea I got nearly all formed before I set to work on it, so it's more like a fanfiction of Akiya than a real adventure. I'll try to use more in-game content, or for station and interpersonal adventures, use some kind of PBTA or Ironsworn rules to force some problems on me, so that Akiya doesn't turn into a Mary-Sue. I'll try it for the second part and see how it works.
Oh, and if your commander wants to meet Akiya in-game, don't hesitate to send her a friend/wing/group request! She should be flying on week-end and holiday nights and rainy days, GMT+1, real-life permitting. You can contact her in Standard Galactic English or old pre-spacefaring French.