WING LOG: Contested Pt I. “Smoke Break”
25 Feb 2020Allan Vanderbolt
Star Date: 33040607System: BD+41 1865
Coriolis Station Cori City
-Belated Log-
The Empire was encroaching on the system and the Federation was doing little about the situation. Rumored Thargoid attacks in the Pleades Nebula had been the talk for weeks at this point. Vanderbolt was tired of hearing about ‘aliens’ when the Empire was on the doorstep to his home system. Hell, they weren’t on the doorstep. They were inside. Had the red carpet rolled out for them, even. His attention fixated on his glass of scotch in an attempt to ignore the two Imperial pilots behind him chatting openly about an ambassador meeting with one of the local faction leaders. The audacity of the situation stirred an ire in him that he had not felt since he blew out the cockpit of his stolen Cobra Mk. III. The rapid spin of the multi cannons turning, the spray of hate rupturing the cockpit, eviscerating the pirate inside. He had managed to take down his own ship in a shit ass Sidewinder he earned when he received his Pilots’ Federation License.
“You doing all right there?” CMDR OneshotDevil nudged Allan from the bar stool to his left, “Another glass for the man, Bartender! And keep them coming.”
Allan grimaced, “Those two behind us,” he began, stopped, took a sip of his scotch, “Don’t they see my Federal rank? And to have a conversation about annexing the system openly...”
OneshotDevil smirked, “Don’t like it? Change it. Same thing I told you when you bitched about those Officers making policies you don’t like, or having to do those patrols that are boring: ‘don’t like it, get promoted,’ you know?” Onshotdevil reached into his pocket and pulled out a lighter and two cigarettes, “Take it,” he said, a sinister grin crawled across his lips. The bar seemed to grow darker, a change from hopelessness to something... something else. Oneshotdevil lit his cigarette and passed the lighter to Allan so he could light his.
“You have something in mind?”
“Well, I’ve got some mineral connections for trade, source and return gig. Been hauling for a while, made some connections... of a variety.” Oneshotdevil took a long drag off his cigarette followed by a sip from his whiskey. He leaned forward and ushered the bartender over, “Got a private place in the back for us to take this conversation? And could you get a Comm link up with ‘my’ contact?” The bartender nodded, his eyes surveying the room, “Oh, and if he says he’s busy, tell him to take a smoke break.”
“You sure you want to bring a Federal Agent into this?”
Allan frowned, “The hell am I getting myself into?”
“You asked me once why I was called Oneshotdevil. You’re about to find out,” Oneshotdevil’s hand instinctively ran across his holstered pistol. “The Federation is losing control, the Empire is moving in, and I’ve a way to correct this mess, earn a fortune in credits, and get you in a position to get what you want.”
The bartender returned and said that a private room was prepared. “You’re contact said he’s willing to spare some time for a smoke.”