A day which will live in infamy.
03 Oct 2015Shadowfoxkit911
Captain’s Log July 22nd 3301, Cmdr. Shadowfoxkit911 reporting:It has been a long road so far, many days in space, and a great deal of work has made me the captain of this ship, the Vinovium. A Cobra Mk III, she has been kitted out in the latest technology, and has served me well for the last week of my career. I have had many ships along the way, memorable in their own right, but this one and I have history.
Let me start at the beginning. Ackerman Market, there was a time when I never thought I would leave home. The Federation, wanting to supply themselves with new pilots to fit the growing needs of their empire, was giving recent graduates of the Commander’s Academy use of a ship in order to give the Federation a small fleet to support themselves. I found myself in possession of a Sidewinder fighter craft, recently refitted with a Frame Shift Drive and a cargo hold capable of carrying 4 tons of cargo, whatever I was given. I started with courier missions, messages that were important enough to carry by hand into the void, often between multiple systems, occasionally picking up cargo that needed to go from point A to point B. I saw a great deal of our small corner of the galaxy, but I aspired to more.
After making a hundred thousand credits from contract transport, I bought myself a Hauler, and tried to take bigger cargos. I had been fortunate enough not to be caught up in the wars and had not fallen prey to pirates quite yet, so in my optimism I loaded myself up with goods and began a freelance trade route, loading myself up with Gold and other rare metals and flying them to markets that desired them. This paid for fuel and food, but little else, so I found myself plying the shipping trade once again. One day I was asked for a favor. A merchant who had mentored me in my work, and had scored quite a few good hauls came to me with an offer. He would pay triple my going rate if I was willing to fly a package with no questions asked. I was hungry from a lack of paying jobs recently, and the money was good. I took the job. I shouldn’t have, but I needed the money for repairs after a docking mishap had taken out my shields and done some damage to my hull. He warned me that pirates would likely want these goods, but more importantly I needed to get this past the local authorities with a minimum of contact, and very specifically, “No scans.”
The trip was uneventful, no pirates tried to interdict me this time, and I made it past the Federation customs vessels as they had too many other ships to worry about besides a small hauler bearing only 1 ton of goods. I should have just delivered the package and let it be, but a rustling noise in the box made me peek inside before it was picked up. Slaves, I was delivering a shipment of slaves. The imperium had a habit of pushing debtors for money pretty hard, and it was common knowledge that many people took up a period of indentured servitude in order to pay off their debts, but that didn’t make me rest any easier that night. The contact I had picked up the package only a few hours later, and the slaves were too afraid to run when I told them to just get out and left the box open. I just shut the box and my cargo hold, and waited. 60,000 credits was the cost of my soul that day, and though I drowned my thoughts in as much hard liquor as the station would provide, I couldn’t chase away the memories.
The next morning I left and flew as far as my Frame Shift would take me, to a different star far away, but my reputation had gotten out. I was someone who would transport illicit goods if the price was right. The money was good, and the terms were simple. A few more trips and I could afford a larger ship, one that could do better business. So I bargained with the devil and started taking all the jobs I could get. The Federation’s security was more inclined to fine me than shoot at me, and the few times I got caught the profit from the trip took care of the fine. Soon I could afford something easier to manage than the bulky Hauler, and soon enough I would get what my broken heart would desire…
The Viper Mk III was a thin, cutthroat ship, and well equipped to chase off or destroy the pirates that had become all too common. I bought it after a run in which I made a few hundred thousand credits and decided to embrace my smuggling choices. The ship was well armed, but lacked the long distance FSD that I had gotten used to in my Hauler. I had to equip it with a fuel scoop, and spend a great deal of time milking the stars I would travel for fuel. I upgraded the cargo bay, and used it to blitz my way past the authorities, outmaneuvering them as I ran back to supercruise when I was pulled into realspace. I had been disappointed in my Hauler, but was inhibited by the limits of the Viper, so I knew I had to upgrade again, and soon.
I had the money after a few high risk narcotic runs, many of which were nearly exposed by system authority craft that would rather blow me from space than confiscate the cargo. But some half a million credits later I found myself in the Vinovium, a Cobra Mk III that would become my friend and confidant in this age of space travel. I have acquired and spent over 4 million credits during the last week, all invested in this ship as my means of supporting my now lush lifestyle. A nose full of beam weapons had paid for itself and a kill warrant scanner with the bounties I had collected on the pirates that often pulled me out of supercruise now. A 36 ton cargo hold allowed me to make large smuggling runs, and new thrusters and a Frame Shift Drive made the runs faster and longer. The ship is in as fine a shape as I can afford to make her, and given the large investment in the Advanced Discovery Scanner, she is more than capable of mapping new stars as they are found.
Now, as I sit at the current station, having made over half a million credits in one complex, but ultimately fruitful, smuggling run I reflect on the path I have taken. I am a simple man, I aspire to have a ship that pays for itself, and is elegant in space. I fly with a wing of fellow smugglers who have the same mixed set of morals as I do, honorable among thieves, but dishonorable among the average man or woman. I do regret a few things in my career, namely those that brought me to this point.
Space is a cruel mistress, and even crueler to those who are ignorant of her ways. A small Eagle light fighter chased me through space today. He followed me from one station to the next, attempting to interdict me at every opportunity. I, frustrated in my constant aborted landings, finally had enough and swatted it from the sky. I received my first bounty, some 6400 credits against me. Trivial though it is, I see it as my greatest failing. I had so tried to be an honorable smuggler, running without loss of life save for those pirates who tried to profit from my destruction. In taking the life of this simple, albeit foolish, young Eagle pilot I had broken the code by which I lived. And yet I feel little or no remorse at my actions. Have I become so jaded? Have I lost what little of a soul that remains?
No, I have finally seen the truth of the matter as I sit here, drinking a Lavian Brandy and eating the biscuits that sit before me. Space is cruel, and anyone who says different is selling something. The bounty for the death of one system defense ship is negligible, and more importantly it is gone the moment I leave the system. I just have to wait until the searches are called off sometime in the next week, and pay off the bounty at the local station. Am I jaded? No, simply realistic. One man’s life means nothing in this cosmic ballet; it is only the extinction of a way of life that makes an impact on the galaxy. I have found great profit in feeding these ways of life, and thus their extinction runs counter to my wants and desires. One man’s life is nothing, not even my own. It is only what I do with my life that makes a difference.
This ship and I, we have an arrangement. She keeps me paid, and I keep her in shape, at least until I replace her. Then again, maybe I should keep her in storage, something to remember my starting days by. But I digress, that is something for a later day, one in which my small smuggling empire is behind me, and a trade in rare goods is mine. This is a fine Lavian Brandy, I must make a point of acquiring some for trading, as well as my own use. Perhaps that is my next destination?
---End Log---