Insurance and Vengeance
10 Nov 2015Michael Darkmoor
1 June, 3301 - InsuranceThe ‘Winder has had it and is now a slowly expanding dust cloud outside Eravate. Insurance paid off most of the upgrades I had made. I am lucky to be alive.
It isn’t the Pirates so much as the psychos who have gone crazy being out in space so long. Pirates usually are just trying to make a living and if you talk with them there always some kind of deal you can mutually agree to. But the Psycho's... They get some kind of “God” complex and start thinking that they are indestructible, that they can deal death to just anyone, and no longer care who. If you are weak, you are prey.
When these types meet, they tend to get together to hunt in packs. I got pulled out of super cruise and there they were. Four wackos looking for something easy to kill. I did not even have a decent cargo, carrying only some grain stocks for one of the local stations.
The little ship’s shields were overwhelmed on their first pass. Before the FSD was even able to cool down enough to escape, I am already hearing the alarms blaring the dreaded words “Eject… Eject… Eject!”
I pulled the handle like I had been trained to do and felt the incredible shock of G forces as the rocket motors ignited and lifted me clear. It was a blur after that until I found myself back in zero G and slowly spinning end over end, facing toward and looking back at my doomed little craft as it exploded amidst a shower of laser and cannon fire.
The only sound I heard was the far off sobbing of some lost soul suffering in eternal torment.
I hadn’t even named her yet.
When the last of the flames died out and the darkness came back to space, I finally realized that the far off sobbing sounds I’d heard were of my own making and that if I didn’t pull it together pretty quick, I wouldn’t have much longer to live. There might even be time for mourning once I was close to using up the emergency O2… 50 hours or so, if I remained calm and initiated stasis soon. Or 25 minutes staying calm and conscious ... if these guys didn’t decide to fry me in my seat first.
See, even if I didn’t live, the data recorded from the ship would and these guys would be ID’d as the culprits if anyone recovered it. So dealing with the flight recorder, (or Black Box - as it was frequently called) I had ejected with was in their best interest, even if they didn’t care who commanded it.
Shutting off the emergency beacons and suit radio was the initial priority. Not only would it save the batteries for later, but I also did not need to draw any further unwanted attention from the bandits. The insulation in my suit would prevent me from showing up on the Infra-red, so for the moment, I was essentially invisible until they actually started an active scan with LIDAR.
Then, it was about getting the spin under control. Using the seat’s compressed gas reaction jets, I oriented myself so that I could still see the four ships as they drifted through the debris of the old girl looking for salvage. Bastards.
It took them about 10 minutes to gather everything they thought worth taking. I saw them scooping up engine parts, large chunks of hull and the six canisters of grain. As they finished the salvage and began the search for me, they fanned out in four different directions. Fortunately, none of those chosen directions were the one in which I had drifted.
As luck would have it, it was about then that the authorities arrived in their shiny new Vipers. There were only three of them, but it seemed to be enough to make the cowardly expletives continue to boost, jumping either with super-cruise locally or to another system using their FSD. I decided it was a good time to turn on all of the noise makers, so the Federals would be able to see me… and hopefully not leave me stranded.
It was a nerve wracking 7 minutes before I noticed one of the Vipers getting larger in the suit visor. Not much can compare to watching a ship’s cargo scoop open up before you in the darkness. As the landing lights come on, it begins to resemble some huge, deep ocean beast from Earth’s past, opening up its maw and inhaling you as if you were nothing more than an unlucky dust-like phytoplankton. Even with comms on and being able to talk to the pilot, the trip back to the station in the belly of a Viper’s relatively small, pressurized cargo bay is something I would prefer never to have to do again.
After the rescue and replacement fees, plus the insurance payment, I still had enough saved to invest in a better ship and better equipment as well. And I did so with a purpose. The Vipers were so cool, but to outfit one enough to do what I planned would take about twice as much as I’d earned through the trading and courier jobs I got in my little ‘Winder. <While I write this, just thinking about it still brings a lump in my throat – she was a good ship>
1 June, 3301 - Vengeance
The ship I chose instead was an Eagle Mk. III. Small light-weight, packed to the gills with shields, armor, and guns. The original FSD drive, I kept, but everything else, including the cargo bay was stripped out to make room for a Hunter’s package. I did not need a cargo hold, and since those brutes were local, I had no need for an FSD beyond what I could use in the system for super-cruise. Even the best power plant I could find barely had enough juice to run everything. As it was, I shut down systems when I didn’t need them just to prevent the heat build-up from becoming intolerable.
I took her out on a test run. Wow! The difference in handling was incredible! Where the ‘Winder had been slow to turn, even with the best thrusters installed, the Eagle moved like it could read my mind. No over-steer in this baby. When I rolled and then put the stick to neutral, she would stop moving immediately. No additional stick inputs to bring the ship to null. I had to relearn a great many things, not the least of which was how to manage the power.
With continuous weapons firing and balanced power, I had about 5-7 shots before the capacitors bottomed out. At that point holding the trigger gave me about a quarter of the shots per second and still built up heat very quickly. Heat is the enemy of the Eagle, and so I hear, its big brother the Viper as well. I practiced on the various rocks and asteroids in the system to learn how to best perform this balancing act and make every shot and second count.
With five hours of solid practice and familiarization behind me, it was time to go hunting.
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It did not take long to find them. The first was in deep space, likely looking for salvage to smuggle back to the station. I followed him down as he dropped out of cruise. The second and third were hiding out together in a resource extraction site, again preying on the weak. I took one and then the other, using the asteroids in the area and my ship’s better maneuverability to block their weapons fire. The last one, I finally caught up to around Russell Ring Station. I watched from just outside the No Fire Zone of the base as he went in. I waited.
Dealing with him was a bit more of a challenge than the other three, his rating was well above theirs (or for that matter... mine!). Still, it was much more successful than our previous encounter. As his ship vaporized and I brought mine to a halt, I was sorely tempted to irradiate his defenseless body with my pulse lasers as he floated in his seat 100 m away. No one would miss him, and the galaxy would probably be a much safer place. But, when I imagined him staring up at my ship, and down the barrel of my deployed armaments… I couldn’t help but laugh with the thought of his flight suit filling with liquid warmth. I fired two bursts on either side of his position and hit the boost, aiming the Eagle’s nose a few meters over his head just to make sure of the outcome.
The bounties on the four bandits amounted to a goodly sum. Thankfully, the warrant scanner I had installed on the Eagle, gave me an entire list of close by systems to collect from. These guys had been pretty busy throughout this sector. It did not bother me a bit that they might already be dead. I had, after all, just left them to float out there. What had me slightly concerned was the complete lack of any kind of feeling for them, period. How had I suddenly become so cold? Could this be some turning point for me in becoming a monster like them? Was it “justice” or just “vengeance”? Perhaps, a little of both.
Something to ponder, I reckon.