The Comeback Kid
09 Mar 2016TheDarkLord
Ising Dock, 109 Piscium. Imperial Courier.November 3301.
News of the demise of my Clipper spread through the various dens of starport scum and villainy. Probably because I spent most of the few days after her loss frequenting them. I’m not sure I mourned the ship itself, but the loss of time and the progress I had made weighed heavily. Plus the certain knowledge that no matter what I thought of myself as a pilot, I was overestimating my actual capability.
I was contacted by a pilot I’d known for a while, CMDR Nathan de Verne. He offered donations of high value cargo to get me back on my feet. I considered the offer, but it felt wrong to accept charity, no matter how kindly it was meant. It was tempting, but I was resolute. I sent a message to Commander de Verne politely declining the offer. His reaction gave me the impression that I had been on test, and had passed.
The rebuilding process was mine to undertake, and mine alone. It would make me stronger.
The one cause for optimism that I had was that my Type-6 and Cobra remained in storage in Gaohikel. I grabbed the Sympathy Sidewinder and traded my way back to my hangar. I crossed the galaxy like a madman, hell-bent on running from the tragedy of my own arrogance. As soon as I arrived, I gave the Sidewinder away, to erase it and this whole sorry episode from my consciousness. I grabbed the Type-6, now christened “ManicMiner” and returned to the safety of the rocks.
Emperor Lavigny-Duval’s Executive Order pertaining to the relaxation of rank requirements was expiring imminently, and I had decided that I was going to get myself into an Imperial Courier before the deadline. Load after load of expensive ores were cashed in. I spent every waking hour amongst the rocks, frequently falling asleep at the controls. I could no longer tell whether the constant buzzing in my ears was from the mining lasers or tinnitus. I developed an almost empathic relationship with my limpet controllers and refinery.
I tried to stay off the booze during this push for cash, and as if respecting the seriousness of the situation, the demons of my past stayed away also.
On the day of the deadline, I bought a Hauler to taxi myself down to Li Yong-Rui space, where I could buy a Courier plus outfitting with a healthy discount.
As the nimble little Gutamaya Imperial Courier “ComebackKid” lifted off from its pad, I knew immediately that those rocks had not died in vain. This was going to be it. This was going to be the rebuildening.
Gutamaya Imperial Courier “ComebackKid”
Basking in a star corona