Helping Hand
10 May 2016TheDarkLord
Anderson Hub, Kokobii. Imperial Courier “TDL ComebackKid”.April 3302.
I sat on the bridge of ComebackKid, looking out over the view from landing pad #3, with the ship’s drives pinking quietly as they cooled. Buzzing around in a Sidewinder was Commander Arctic Blow, my new charge.
Fuck.
I was used to coaching and mentoring. But it was always pilots who knew their way around the controls, who’d got a few hours under their belt. Had some ship upgrades in place. Now though, here I was, actually responsible for someone, someone fresh out of Pilots’ school.
I’d met this guy back in 3297. He was just a teenager then, wide-eyed at the thought of making a living in space. He was the son of a friend that I’d met not long after leaving the Pollux facility on Leesti. We’d seen each other a few times over the intervening years, and he was always pestering me for stories, and telling me of his plans to get into space as soon as he could. He’d applied to the Pilots’ Federation on the day of his 18th birthday, and his mother had begged me to take him under my wing. I’d figured that space was very big, and it was a request that I could say I would grant, without having to actually do anything about it.
The kid’s father – my friend – had been killed in an Anaconda three years ago. Stories were of him having been caught in the crossfire between Hudson and Emperor’s Dawn. Now the kid is out in space, newly minted Pilots’ Federation licence card in his pocket, flying the loan Sidewinder, asking for my help.
He first messaged me from LHS 3447. Must have been one of his first acts as Commander of his own ship. He knew I was a Bounty Hunter, because that and mining were the only activities I’d been able to discuss with him over the years. So he wanted to go bounty hunting together. More specifically, he wanted me to run protection for him while he hunted. But I wasn’t about to head up to where he was: that was enemy territory for me, and the Federal Security Services were quite keen to have a word regarding my recent activities in their sector. So I hatched a plan to get him to come to me, and sent him a multi-hop trade route to get him down to Kokobii.
Imperial space, where I could keep an eye on him.
Hence, here. Now.
It was fairly easy to see this coming, of course. I knew Arctic Blow was following the instructions I’d given him, and so he’d be arriving in ALD space soon. I’d been prepping dinner in my suite in Leopold Heckmann Ring when the call came through. Arctic Blow was bounty hunting in a Hi-RES at the 5th planet of Kokobii. Could use some help.
Thinking this scenario through ahead of time, I knew I needed to take a fast, light attack ship. If I took one of my heavy-duty warbirds, it would just cause more trouble. I refitted my Imperial Courier with a ventral beam laser, and multicannons on the wingtips. Had verified it as a good fighting ship, and parked it up again.
After stowing the partially-prepared food, and shutting down the cookers, I recalled my Courier to the dock, and made my way down there.
It was time to put ComebackKid’s new build to the test. That didn’t make me nervous at all though. What made me nervous was the fact that this kid would live or die based on my plans and instructions and his ability to, in the heat of battle, follow those instructions. I figured that like most new young grads from Pilot School, he’d be hyper-aggressive and have absolutely no perception of risk. I lifted the Courier off the landing pad and formed up behind a Type-6 Transporter that was exiting the station.
Four hyperspace jumps, a couple thousand light seconds in supercruise, and I dropped in on Arctic Blow’s wing signal. I found him stalking an Anaconda, which was marauding pirates. I saw it attack ship after ship, causing them to flee. There was a surprising lack of Internal Security Service ships. Arctic Blow didn’t want to let the Conda go, but knew that it could kill him almost instantly. He wanted the fat bounty check, but was doing the right thing, waiting for backup. I was pleasantly surprised at his restraint.
Two Security Vipers started on the Conda. I targeted its power plant, and commenced beaming away its shields. I commanded Arctic Blow to keep 2-3km away, and to watch. Hopefully he could see how I was keeping in behind the Conda, minimising my exposure to its top-mounted beam turrets. I was, in truth, having tremendous fun. The Courier is such an agile ship, and my recent experience in running with Flight Assist off in the larger ships was paying dividends. I knew also that the Courier would be putting on quite a show for the new Commander, thrusters flaring all over as I kept that ventral beam on target.
The Conda’s shields collapsed, and I changed my focus to multicannonning its power plant.
Arctic Blow could stand the watching no longer. He fired his puny pulse lasers at the flailing enemy, as I kept my guns trained on its failing power plant. Soon the plant was down to 0%, and the giant ship lay dead in space. I pulled back, leaving the final kill to my young charge. We each received 70,000 Cr in bounty vouchers.
“Right, get that cashed in,” I told him over the comm.
“Really? But it’s only one ship.”
“70k is more than your entire net worth, young man. Get it banked before you get shot up and lose it.”
“Okaaayyy,” he grumped. Perhaps he was expecting a long killing spree.
“Anderson Hub, now.” I said. “And besides, I’m hungry.”
We retracted hardpoints, cleared the mass lock of the asteroid field, and supercruised the 175 light seconds to Anderson. So there we were, at Anderson. We dropped, and through pure routine I boosted towards the platform and requested docking. Arctic Blow said he wanted to watch me land the Courier. Fine, if that’s what he wants – I’ve flown in the presence of others many times. So I flared the Courier on the platform’s rightmost small pad, with the kid buzzing around me.
"How the hell have I got myself into this?" I thought. Although I was active in the community and generally quite a social pilot out of the ship, when in the pilot’s seat, I was a lone wolf, someone who worked on the assumption that each pilot was capable of managing their own safety. Not someone who should be in charge of a Harmless greenhorn with a terrible perception of risk.
"Ah, fuck it." I thought. "I’ve lived through worse."
I tapped keys on the control pad in front of me.
Menu > Enter Hangar.
The Courier dropped into the hangar, and I commenced power-down.
“C’mon kid, time for a burger.”
I’m too young for this shit.