Merc Ops 4 - Freelancing, A Promotion
22 Jan 2018Leon Falkner
Guuguyni SystemShen Terminal
0425
As the Python set down on the landing pad, the familiar clunk of the docking clamps reverberated throughout the hull of Leon's ship. He sighed in sync with the engine's whine as they spun down.
"Ground crew has been dispatched, Commander." A tight, Imperial voice said. "We thank you for your ongoing efforts in the system."
"Acknowledged Tower, Percheron out." Leon said politely before cutting comms. As the pad retracted into the bay he went about the business of unstrapping himself from the flight chair. He had left the bit of space that the Mercs of Mikunn so lovingly refer to as the "Mikunniverse" and ventured out to do some freelancing for the Pilots Federation. A little moving cargo here to assist with the construction of an asteroid base. Then after that it was putting the Python through its freshly engineered paces in fight after fight with pirates, and now slavers. He didn't particularly love the Empire, but he could agree that slavery was to be fought, and if someone was paying, he would fly. Simple as that.
"Computer, start playlist." Leon said.
"Starting..." Betty, the universal disembodied ship AI voice replied. The cockpit filled with a gentle guitar tune.
"On the first part of the journey/ I was looking at all the life" someone who was long, long dead sang to him. Leon smiled. When you had money, and a bit of power some people went mad. Some people bought until there was no more. And some, like him, just found their hobby much more accessible. 20th and 21st Century Earth music has a niche appeal in the year 3304, but he wouldn't let that bit of history die.
"You have unread messages, Commander." Betty said.
"Onscreen, please."
"Salutations Commander Falkner" the first message began. Leon skimmed through the text.
"You are hereby considered an ally of the Empire."
Huh. He thought. Guess when you destroy millions of credits of slaver assets for some princess the Empire considers you an ally.
"Next message."
His speakers were overridden with a small fanfare.
"PROMOTION: PILOTS FEDERATION - MASTER" Read the subject line. He had moved up a rank.
He had been promoted. Leon was stunned. He thought he'd remain "Expert" forever. Now "Master". He remembered when he shot out into the black as "Harmless." It was so long ago. Back when he had both eyes, back when he was still just another Fed kid trying to figure out what this big galaxy had in store for him.
He typed in something on to the panel on his left. A change of dress was in order, for him and the ship.
After all, what was the point of these wings if you didn't display them.