Locked down
14 Dec 2015Brenner Soriah
Stardate 1612-3301, 1135Commander Brenner Soriah, remote logging from Savinykh Hub. I find myself appreciating all of the build-up of repute with the Federation. I know they are considered opposition to the wing, but I find myself remaining neutral between us and the Independents of LFT 37. And that neutrality is paying off, as the controlling Purple Party of LFT37 has placed my first real bounty on my head. I'll come back to that though.
In following with trying to record a lot of what I do, I'll go over the events leading up to now. These logs are more than just my story. They're also my way of keeping track of where I've been, and what has and had not worked for me, which you may apply as well.
Where I left off last was the errand running after the convoy security detail. That system I checked out is an Imperial aligned sector by the name of Fehu. My first trip to the sector was in one of the Empire's clippers. I thought it'd be a good opportunity to upgrade the ship fully and give her a test flight. The RES Dreamcatcher felt like she had a bit more meat to her bones. Her lateral thrusters felt weak, and I couldn't get her to dance like my time in a Fer De Lance. I guess I'm just spoiled to maneuverability. The expanded jump range was a welcome relief though, and it made the journey out to Fehu a lot easier. Getting out of the bubble was uneventful, and made for some good mapping along the way. Good practice for that galactic journey I want to take, I suppose. Once I arrived, I realized my mistake. See. you don't want to go out there for the market. There's nothing special about it's commodities, and there are no rares. What makes the system a goldmine is the number of companies requested to ship emergency food the 300+ LY back to the bubble. And these companies liked to hire out hauling missions to commanders of the Pilot's Federation with rewards of around a million. If you keep you ear to the wall, a smuggling mission for up to ten times as much might find itself on you door.
My problem here is that a lot of these missions were to outposts in dire need of a supply replenishment. Outposts which are only equipped to handle medium and small craft. The Clipper is a fairly girthy girl, and she just wasn't going to make it for those calls. Determined to not have made that flight out without any profit, I waited around for a few hours while tending to other business, managing to pick up a smuggling mission worth 4 million, and a few legal hauls worth about seven-fifty thousand each. Still somewhat disappointed at all the missed opportunity, I made my errand chain though Korhal space, delivering each supply one by one. By the end, my repeatedly interrupted trip had made a decent profit, and I was encouraged to fund further trips. After my previous supply fittings for all three Imperial ships, my budget was a bit on the low end. I gutted the Dreamcatcher for now, selling off her thrusters and power distributor for the money I needed to fully equip another ASP. I remember my days of flying the rare hauls with the Asp, and she held good promise for the task at hand. I've dubbed her the STARS Slayer, in continuation of my own personal naming processes.
Now flying the FDL is fantastic and all, but the STARS just took away any worries about distance jumping. Only a refuel every five jumps or so, at a range twice that of the FDL, with heat management far superior. The journey back to Fehu was very short compared to before, and I immediately went to all the job boards once I landed. Within an hour, I had loaded the Asp's massive cargo space to near max capacity, and promptly set out to return to the bubble. Most of what I was requested to haul was simple refrigerated units of food, but a corner of my ship played host to mining explosives as well. Two cargo units, buried with the others, were for tobacco into a system that didn't quite approve of smoking. I say they've never lived, and the 'extra generous' pay eased my mind greatly. It only took an hour or so from that to deliver everything, with the occasional interdiction by local imperial and authority forces. I've grown so accustomed to the ease at which ships succumb to my lasers and my bullets, I had to fight my urge to turn and draw retribution for their interruptions. Still, each one was evaded with ease, and my journey only seconds longer for the worst. At the end of the trip was about a net gain of twelve million credits. I've seen nations crumple for rewards less than that. And I took that trip not once, but five times. Enough for me to pick up a couple of other loose ends, and dole out charity freely again.
Satisfied for a time with my budget, I docked the STARS into LFT 37, and chartered a ship to carry me back to Eravate, where my beloved Scarlet Current rested. Back at her helm, it was a happy reuniting. I made her dance like no other ship could, and she thrummed for me in return. No sooner did I return to LFT 37 than I received an urgent broadcast from the Wing Commander, Big Pappa. LFT 37 was to be placed into a state of full lockdown, as commanders trading there and performing missions for the other factions had by the same blow been wounding ours. I did say before that my loyalty was pledged should things come to a state of emergency, I would provide. The first step was to make sure we were fully prepared for the task at hand. Seeing as there were no plans to travel from the system, I sold off the superior fuel scoop, which made room for once in her lifespan for her to be able to carry cargo, albeit only a small amount. I upgraded the interdictor from a class E to a class C, which was sadly the best our position could provide. And of course, I traded my KWS for a hold scanner, acting in true fashion of border patrol. Winging up with other Paladin's, I charged the frame shift drive into FTL travel, picked a spot in supercruise with a good view, and waited... Waiting didn't last. Over the course of the weekend, my wing alone interdicted some dozen different commanders. We did not want to hurt anyone, and I made very sure that every commander received sufficient warnings about our blockade. Alas, a few were either too foolish to heed our warnings, or believed themselves above our strength.
If there is one thing I do not have patience for, it's for someone testing my ability to be a pilot. I'm a damn good pilot, and I am proud of it. I will passionately fight anyone who says otherwise. While docked in Roentgen Hub, I hailed a commander that was preparing for takeoff in his Anaconda. I immediately delivered all warnings to him, and requested he leave the station with an empty hold. He agreed to the terms and state of the system, but I am a cautious man. I launched along with him, and immediately began scans as he was heading though the mail slot. Sure enough, logs of lifeforms filled his hold; 448 slaves. That is six /million/ credits worth of people in our system. Seven to eight million in other systems. And this foolish commander was playing with their lives. Lamenting the act I had to commit, I put full power to shields and rammed myself into his rear. My wingmates had dropped into the station area and acted in kind. I don't know if the force of our ships colliding broke his shields, or if he had some malfunction, but his hull was vulnerable. From all of the 'illegal' interdicting in supercruise, blocking out all of the trade sustaining the Purple Party's strength, I was already a wanted man. And I was going to make sure this commander understood his folly to go against the Paladin Consortium. I pushed my power into my hardpoints and deployed. No holds barred, I went all in on the pot. Beams sliced the gap of space, and melted away his armor. Cannon shells screamed the short football field to rip into the superstructure of the gunboat. I had never tensed my trigger fingers so hard, my ship reaching heat levels dangerous to electronics. And even as I had fired, the station commander saw my aggression and ordered my execution. The Anaconda's thrusters gave out, and she drifted a short ways before imploding, the two halves of her whole drifting apart and spilling 449 unfortunate lifeless souls into the maw of black.
I had no time to grieve. The station's cannons tracked the Scarlet and opened fire, and system authorities were already closing in. I popped the first barrel of chaff and spun her into a direction away from the hub and smashed the thrusters. Weapons would do me no more good, and my shields only held out against a single burst from the station. But it was enough time for me to put distance. I popped my other chaff launcher, willing the first to reload while I made my escape. Cannon shells flew past me, a couple piercing through her nose and one to her wing. Warning sounds blared, and the cops were behind me getting a small strafe of lasers in. They wanted to disable my engines, and see me dead. I kept firing off chaff until my ship no longer felt the strains of mass lock, and immediately charged a low jump into the system. Scarlet had taken one hell of a beating, and it was one of my finest brushes with death. 9% hull integrity was not something I was comfortable with, and the cracks in my cockpit pane made me double check my buckles. It was a harrowing trip to Savinykh Station, but the Federation was very willing to take me under asylum from the system forces, and the half a million bounty on my head.
The past couple days have been easy, with the majority of commanders avoiding our home now. It took a few days for the specialists to patch up my FDL, but I informed them against their protests I was not going to replace her with a new one. I'm resting for now, preparing to go up before board of senior council members under review of a potential promotion. The suit and tie, while it does not bother me to wear, is ill suited to the blood on my hands. Still, I wear it with pride, and will continue to inscribe my name on the face of history.
Until my next report, may your swords stay sharp, and may you soar on dragon's wings.
Commander Brenner Soriah, logging off.