The Man's Money
27 Jul 2016AzraelDirge
Everyone who's lived the life knows how it goes. You limp back to the nearest station after a grueling couple days of pirate hunting, touch down at the pad and stretch out the kinks from spending too long in the pilot's chair. Station air smells strange after breathing ship recycled air for so long.You meet the maintainers on the pad, run down the damages, and wire them the credits for repairs. A quick check in with the bounty office gets you paid, minus a few credits for scratching the paint on that newbie lawman's Eagle when he decided to dash across your beams. After that, it's off to a watering hole. If you're at your home station, you greet the regulars, flirt a little with the waitresses, and get roaring drunk on The Man's coin until the repairs on your cabin are done, or until it's time to crash at a coffin hotel. If you're at a strange station, you pick a bar that lets you keep eyes on your ship while you nurse a couple beers.
On the way out, you call up the mission board, and lo and behold, the imps and feds are getting set to slug it out over a sleepy little system a dozen jumps away, and have put out the call for hired muscle to bolster the ranks on both sides. After you tip the maintainers (never hurts to keep the mechanics happy), it's time to go to war. You weigh the contracts being offered by both sides on the journey there, and decide where to make port in the system.
Once you arrive, the station is usually abuzz with activity. Military ships limp in, in all various states of disrepair. Haulers full of wartime supplies clog the shipping lanes, and mercs like you mingle with navy boys and space truckers at the bars and cantinas.
After arrival, it's time to top up the tank and sign up for the war. After the military types run a few quick background checks to confirm that you aren't a spy or a saboteur, you're officially signed up and ready to fight.
After that, your life is war. Kill the red pips, cover the green pips, that's all that matters. If you're lucky, your side will throw a capital ship at the fight. If you aren't, the enemy will do the same. Killing is broken up with trips back to refuel, rearm, repair, grab a few hours of shuteye, and check the updated lists of the dead to see if you need to drink to any old friends that fell fighting someone else's war. If you get in good with some of the local factions, sometimes you can get paid on the side for someone's personal mission.
After a while, usually a week or so of spilling red into the black, hostilities wrap up, and it's time to get paid. Depending on how you perform, you could be looking at a serious stack of credits. There's no sound quite like that little notification when The Man's money hits your account. If you do well enough, and manage to crack the top 10% or so of performers, you'll probably get a private comm asking if you're interested in taking on a permanent contract with the local security firm.
Every merc knows the right answer to that question. "Sorry, I've got another commitment. Thank you for the offer." The nature of the commitment doesn't matter. Maybe it's another war. Maybe it's a pirate band that has gotten a little too bold in their attacks on freighters. Maybe it's a cold beer at your home station, served by that one waitress that stops by your table to chat every time you show up.
The Man's coin is nice, but freedom is better.