Logbook entry

Civ-Lan

01 Sep 2022Aeson Keal
Well, that's it I guess. No big send off, no parade, nothing. I don't feel any different, it's just another day. I went through my morning routine, but as I picked up my razor, I realized I didn't need to shave. For the first time in 15 years, I don't have any rules to follow. No more mando-PT; no more saying "yes sir" to every baby-faced Butter bar that thinks he's the greatest gift the galaxy has to offer to the Imperial Navy; and most of all, no more saluting the Princess.

I never much cared for getting in other people's business, hell most of the time we were too poor to even have business of our own. But that's how you got yourself here in the first place isn't it Aeson? If you wouldn't have stolen those food rations from old man Clark's dumbass store, you wouldn't have had to choose between the mines or serving the Princess. I mean I'd definitely serve the Princess, but that's not the option they gave me. 6 years minimum with the Navy, that's all it was supposed to be. But when you grow up with nothing, that reenlistment money looks a lot like a golden goose. Too bad it took you 2 tries to get smart and GTFO. 3rd times the charm I guess.

So what will I do with my newfound freedom? Hopefully not piss it away in some spacer bar. I spent so much time waiting to get out, I never really planned on what I would do once it happened. Travel? Mine? I have no Idea. I managed to save enough credits to buy a ship of my own, nothing like the fighters I flew under the flag of Miss Blue, but at least something I can call my own. I'll take a shuttle up to Medupe Station and see what's for sale after I get some chow.

After I ate, I checked the shuttle schedule, booked a flight up to Medupe, and headed to my apartment to pack it all up. The complex folks will be by in a couple hours to check the place out and take my keycard. I never noticed how little I actually own, my entire life packed up into half a dozen boxes. That's what you get for spending the better part of 2 decades hopping from one mudball to the next, Aeson. Never having anything, I never knew what I was missing out on. Other pilots would spend their credits on the latest toys and gadgets. Hell, Duchene's dumbass bought a racing eagle with money he didn't even have. "I got a great deal Keal! Only 22% interest!" is what he told me. Moron. 3 months later he lost the damned thing to a racer outta Misir. I'm positive that clown was using a hydrazine injection rig on his engines, totally illegal; but when 4 men pull out P-15s and tell your idiot friend to hand over the keys, well you hand over the keys and be happy you still have a body with no extra holes in it.

The trip up to Medupe was uneventful. Pretty sure the pilot was drunk, but that's what AP is for right? They had some nice ships, way more than what my paltry savings could afford. The salesman was a total splik-head. Nothing more than a greaseball trying to steal every credit you've ever earned. He had no idea about thrust capabilities, g-force dampeners; hell he couldn't even get the jump ranges right. But I've shot down enough ships throughout my lifetime to know exactly what each is capable of. I settled on the DBX. She ain't winning any beauty pageants, and definitely won't hold her own in a dogfight, but she'll have to do. The dickhead salesman tried to upsell me on everything but the cupholders. "You can polish a turd till it shines bud, but it will never change the fact it's still a chunk of splik." That shut him up, a feat up until this point I truly didn't think was possible.

The Arctic Tern, as she's been christened, needs a lot of love. Reactor core is out of tune, thrusters aren't aligned, and the main engines sound like an asthmatic freight train sneezing through the wrong end of a busted trombone. You bought it Aeson, it's your problem now. First jump was a joke, she sucked a third of the tank on a 25ly cruise through witch space. Damned fuel scoop was busted too. Remind me to space that moron if I ever make it back to Medupe. After another credit dump, and a bit of smooth talking with a gearhead friend, she's up to snuff. The FSD is cranked to the brink of failure, but she'll go 66ly in witch space before she practically falls out. Had to sell the shield and downgrade to a smaller one, or risk blowing out the distro. You only need shields if you can't dodge, Aeson.

I didn't know it when I started out this morning, but it appears I built myself a decent jumper. Decent in jumping, but still uglier than splik. I don't have anywhere to go, but Azimuth is about to break the damned galaxy with the dumbass goid killer. So I guess I'll head the other direction. Hell, maybe I'll even go take a look at Andromeda. When this stupid wave fails, it'll probably end up being our new home, so why not get a head start?

-Keal
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