No credits and nowhere to go
13 Oct 2015Desert Fox CXVII
Commander, it's about time you made your next log entry.Lisa would you just... I'm in the middle of something.
Browsing shipyard catalogs and listening to the radio doesn't qualify as 'being in the middle of something.' If you're not going to make an entry, you should be working on your next speech.
Alright alright. Start recording
I have already taken the liberty of doing so, Commander
You what...? Goddamnit Lisa. You could have warned me.
I did, Commander, not a moment ago
Very funny Lisa. I'm in stitches.
Commander, the log.
Right. Commander Cassius Fox, stardate 13 October, 3301, aboard Marker Depot orbiting New Carthage in the Carthage system. Where was I?
You had just been dropped off in LHS 3447, Commander.
Right. So, I'm an Imperial citizen, my identity card clearly states that I'm a veteran of the Imperial Navy and now I'm stuck in the middle of Federal space with 1,000 credits to my name and a broken down old sidewinder sitting in the docking bay. To be fair, I wasn't the only one in this predicament; There were at least a dozen other Imperial graduates with me. But that only made matters worse. One man with an thick Imperial is nothing much to worry about. Thirteen of them is a raiding party.
Within twenty minutes we had said our goodbyes and went our separate ways. We all promised to keep in contact with each other, and I'm sure we all meant to. But... well... one by one they all stopped checking in. I never really found out what happened to them. I mean, I can guess what happened; pirates, system security, running out of air, the list of ways to die in space is endless. But guessing isn't the same as knowing for sure, you know? It's a shame, some of them were really good guys, could have done great things for the Empire if they had been properly prepared.
Anyway; so there I was, alone in hostile territory, with nowhere to go. What did I do? Well, I did what the instructors had told me to do. I hit up the seediest, most run down pubs on the station looking for work. The only problem was that whenever anyone took a glance at my new flightsuit and neatly trimmed hair I got laughed right out on my shiny green ass.
After almost an entire day of this, I trudged my sorry hide back to my ship to sleep so I wouldn't waste money on a hotel room. As I was walking, eyes fixed resolutely on my toes, I heard somebody call out, "hey pilot." Well, I knew they couldn't be asking for me, I was obviously the newest and most inexperienced throttle jockey on the station, so I kept my head down and kept walking.
But the damndest thing happened; someone came trotting up to me and blocked my path. I looked up, and I swear I must have had the stupidest look on my face. I was so confused. Had the Pilot's Fed not payed my docking fees? Was I in trouble for something? Turns out I wasn't; the man standing in front of me was too clean cut for a dockworker or system security. He stood there, with this wide smile full of overly white teeth and perfectly parted hair. He stuck his hand out and introduced himself. For the life of me I can't remember his name, but I managed a weak smile and shook his hand.
He told me he needed some cargo shipped to another nearby system, and that He'd pay me handsomely for my trouble. I tried to explain that he would be better off finding someone more experienced, but he wasn't having any of it. He said that my small ship and the fact that nobody knew who I was would be beneficial to the job.
I thought about this for a second, trying to figure out what kind of job this could be, until it dawned on me; light cargo, small ship and anonymous pilot. This was a smuggling mission. It was the only thing it could be. I stood there, nodding like an idiot as I processed this information. Eventually I realized that I really couldn't be choosy about the jobs I took. So I took the job.
I won't bore you with the details; I took the cargo to the destination, closed my heat vents and drifted through the slot. To be honest it was a lot easier than I thought it would be. At first I had some trepidation about smuggling, but then I realized; this was Federal space, and I'm an Imperial citizen. Breaking the law didn't matter out here. I could get in as much trouble as I wanted, make enough credits to purchase a better ship, and fly off on my merry way.
And that's exactly what I did. Half of the civil wars in the sector probably went on as long as they did because of my efforts. It was slow work, but I eventually scraped enough credits together to buy and outfit myself a brand new viper. So with the new ship and a belly full of brandy, I set course for Imperial space, ready to...
Commander, your next speech is in twenty minutes.
Oh thank you Lisa. This is Commander Cassius Fox, signing off.