Who am I?
12 Nov 2015Tristan Pacheco
Well, I'm stuck planetside for a while, and it's still pouring down rain, so I've got nothing to do. So I guess I should write an autobiography for anyone that might read this one day. I may move this to the front of the journal, so for future reference, this was written November 12, 3301. Anyway...My name is Tristan Pacheco. I'm a fighter pilot for the Federal Naval Squadron , "The Black Angels". I was born on LHS 3447 A5, to a relatively poor family. Not poverty-poor, mind you, just poor enough to where I could only reasonably expect to get one thing for my birthday each year. There wasn't a lot of traffic planetside, so I spent most of my days playing in the woods, since I didn't have any sims. When I was 8 or 9, the system navy vessel, Valor with an E, visited our home starport. My mother called me over to the station (via hcom, of course) so I could look at the ship. It was an Anaconda. I use that term very lightly because this thing was absolutely riddled with rips, scratches, and holes.
The engines literally sputtered it was so old. Captain Avessa saw my mom and I gawking at the thing (I was too young to understand it was a piece of shit) and came over to us. She offered to let me see inside and I of course agreed. On the inside it was in somewhat better condition, although I'm pretty sure I remember the smell of some kind of leaking gas. After seeing the bridge, she let me sit at the controls and eventually offered me a flight. Again, I enthusiastically agreed. We didn't fly into orbit, but it was enough to show me that I wanted to be a space pilot.
For a long time afterwards I begged my mom to get me a ship one day. As I grew older, I realized one did not simply take to the skies in a brand new ship. Flight school had to be passed first. After burying ourselves in debt, I eventually passed flight school and got a secondhand (really more like 12th hand) Sidewinder. I had 1200 credits left over and I used 200 just to get to the dock across the system where it was parked. My parents came with me and hugged me and said goodbye, and then I was on my own.
John Q. Marder Academy, my flight school, had incentives to join the Federal Navy, so that was my goal. I would get an extra 50,000 CR for joining and staying in the Navy for a month. At the time, that seemed like a ridiculous amount of money just for showing up. I had to travel all the way to Epsilon Eridani to sign up though, and my little Sidey didn't have anywhere near that kind of range on it, so I spent several weeks transporting tiny amounts of cargo system to system. By the time I upgraded my ship and headed for Epsilon Eridani, I had already made a name for myself in the Federation. Of course, that name wasn't much more than, That guy who delivers food and can fight off the occasional pirate, but it was enough so that when I did sign up, I got a headstart towards my first promotion.
In only a few months, I went from 1200 CR and a Sidewinder, to 700,000 CR and a Cobra Mk III. Back then I wasn't an active soldier. I just accepted the occasional contract from the Federation and was paid per mission, so in the meantime, I traded. After I acquired a massive fortune (And a Lakon Type-7) from trading dusty corn in Alliance space, I switched to bulk trading, and traded my way up to and subsequently past a Type-9, I decided to enlist for active duty. I figured since the Federation was no longer at war with the Empire, active duty would be a breeze.
Boy was I wrong.
The Federation does a lot of fighting behind the scenes that it manages to cover up very effectively. We weren't at war with the Empire, but that didn't stop us from attacking private security vessels of Imperial Nobles or ransacking supply vessels, privateer style. We also did a surprising amount of security details, just flying into heavily-trafficked zones and blasting away at anyone breaking Federal Law. After a drive malfunction killed my oldest squadmate, I became depressed, slinking away from flying for another couple of months. Eventually though, I came back to my senses.
High Command decided on a whim one day that I was good enough of a leader to have my own squadron, so here I am today, soldiering along, living battle to battle and hoping not to ignite another galactic war...