It occurred to me recently that I never bothered to commit to record any of the various history of the three Burninators or my crew. Now, much of it is lost to even my own memory.
Most of the details aren't important, anyway. I'll start at the beginning and fill in the major events.
Well, might as well start with me. I'm - was? - Libertonian. Not sure if that term means 'born there' or 'still there'. Young, restless, idealistic, the usual. Charismatic, persuasive, and intelligent - not so usual. I scored well when I enlisted, and they threw me in the naval academy.
I blew it. I almost stuck it out long enough to receive my commission, but I couldn't keep my mouth shut, couldn't stand taking orders. They threw me out, and by that point, I was glad to be rid of them.
I found myself on Freeport 2. I needed somewhere quiet to think and work out my demons. I sat there for a good while, burning through the little bit of money I had saved while I licked my wounds and contemplated my existence.
Rather, I contemplated everyone's existence. I hated oppression. The strong culling the weak. The wicked preying on the honest. The have's exploiting the have-not's. Every corner of Sirius seemed to have its token victim, and its token tyrant. The guy just trying to get by, and the parasite kicking him in the gut.
Except for my present company. Here was a group of folks who were similarly fed up with the rest of humanity's crap. They were spread out all over, came from all walks, but not a one of them felt the need to climb up on someone else's back to get by. What better resource could I ask for, I later thought. I could restart the human race with these people, reshape it in their image. Their preservation became my obsession. Their proliferation, my goal.
But I'm getting ahead of myself. I must have muttered something about my time in Liberty that someone on that station liked, because I found myself on a transport headed to the Omicrons.
Imagine my surprise when I found out these communities had already established a governing council to represent their common interests. And somehow, they had put together enough resources to construct vessels rivaling the greatest military warships in Sirius. Through dedication to tolerance and cooperation, both within and without, these people were experiencing - and driving - societal evolution at a rate unheard of before or since.
And yet, somehow, I was the oddball there. The Zoners were building these massive warships, but if there was any sort of academy training their crews and commanders, I never heard of it. Merely having attended formal officer training got me shuffled to the front of the line and sat on the throne of the newest dreadnaught. I named it, and eventually, my officers' code names, after the characters of an old pre-Sirius cartoon I was fond of. It seemed like a good idea at the time. Much of my crew were explorers, scientists, traders. People who had invested in my ship to use it as a platform for their own personal projects and businesses. It was quite strange for a while, being the commanding officer, yet having so little control over, or even knowledge of, what was going on in my own ship.
But I digress. That part about the lack of official channels? That should have been a warning sign. In fact, there were a lot of warning signs, and I was oblivious. I look back on those days with a lot of regret. Bestowed with command and full of pride, I presented myself to the council, and asked what they would have of me.
They shrugged.
It suited me fine. I was all too happy to take the reigns of my own warship and follow my gut. I was content to assume that since all of this was already going on before I arrived, that it would continue its present course, guided by some unseen hand. I wandered the Omegas and Omicrons, patrolled Zoner bases, cut my diplomatic teeth on the council, and kept my ear to the ground wherever I went, because that was the sum total of my intel.
In hindsight, I should have pushed, asked questions, demanded answers, demanded action. It's one thing to have no leadership structure. The council did a good job keeping the peace, so we had no formal enemy to be constantly sending our ships against.
It's quite another thing to, on top of having no leadership structure, have no overall plan, no training, no coordination, no intelligence framework. That meant there was precious little holding it all together.
It proved too precarious to last. The invisible hand disappeared when the council lost a few important voices. Lacking them, it no longer had the strength it needed to withstand the stress of our neighbors. The remaining members were mostly too apathetic and self-interested to hold it together. It fell apart, and efforts to replace it fumbled.
Suddenly, I found myself holding the bag. How was I to continue operating without the financial support of a council? Our ships required supplies, like any other nation's warships. I don't know how the others managed. I'm sure more than a few were abandoned or scrapped.
It was a desperate time that called for desperate measures. I had to get creative. We moored, and I addressed the crew. I explained the situation, and my rationale. The first Burninator was doomed. The Juggernauts were not designed to be self-sufficient; they had no biodomes. And they were too slow, and devoted too much of their mass to armor and firepower to be efficient transports. Eventually, we would run out of supplies and money, and succumb to atrophy, mutiny, or some other unpleasant fate.
Some argued that we should simply sell the ship for scrap, split the money, and go our separate ways. I wasn't willing to give up, nor let my dream die a slow, painful death. Better to risk everything on a suicide mission. We had been guarding Freeport One for some time by then, and we had repeatedly come under attack by raiding parties using strange, unidentifiable technology. We'd return with samples of that technology, or die trying.
To avoid mutiny, I used what nonessential supplies we had left to buy out their stake in the ship and left them on Freeport One.
What few of us remained, and another Captain I convinced to follow me (I loathe myself for forgetting his name - damn the years!), set course for uncharted territory and plunged into the heart of the Omegas in search of the demons' nest. Hoping beyond hope we'd find something valuable enough to rekindle the Zoners and their fleet.
*Grumble* As if I didn't have enough to worry about.. *Mutters* Blasted artificial intelligence shenanigans.. *Sigh*
Captain's log, entry three.
I don't remember many details from our raid on the deep Omegas.
It was a harrowing experience, as it was the first time the first Burninator saw real combat. We certainly weren't as prepared as we could have been, but again, it was a desperate time. We didn't even know exactly whom these people were. It wasn't until later that we determined that they were likely nomad-infested Rheinlanders. But I digress.
We encountered minor to moderate fighter resistance until we entered a system that was probably their home. It certainly seemed like we kicked the hive.
We immediately noticed that they were building what appeared to be some sort of.. jump gate near the system's center. Our mission was smash and grab, and so far, we had accomplished much of the former, but little of the latter.
The closer we got to it, the more opposition we faced. Eventually, they overwhelmed the smaller ship escorting us. We recovered some escape pods, but that ship and most of her crew were lost.
We weren't doing so great, either. The enemy was getting reinforcements faster than we could shoot them down, and our defenses were failing. We didn't have time to conduct any kind of analysis of the structure. So we did the next best thing: we blew off a few chunks, tractored them in, and got the hell out of there.
One of those chunks turned out to be the power core.
As it turns out, bringing alien technology into one's ship, when one is ill-prepared and has no idea what they're doing, is a bad idea. Who knew.
We limped back home damaged, demoralized, disgusted. And worse, our 'plunder' was rotting the ship from the inside out. The power core and its related apparatus were, evidently, designed not only to power the gate, but also to build it. And the core didn't care that it had been plucked from its construction project. It simply started over. In our cargo hold.
By the time we reached Omicron 74, the ship was in bad shape. The artifact was ripping out system components and tearing away bits of hull. Structural failure was imminent. We maneuvered to a safe but accessible distance away from Livadia, and abandoned ship.
Fortunately, someone at Livadia must have seen the writing on the wall with the Council, because a new line of "Jinkusu" battleships were under construction. In a stroke of wisdom, I negotiated my way into a position that would pay off in the long term. I relinquished the wreck and the minor technology we had recovered in exchange for one of the new, more self-sufficient battleships. Corinth also got to study the power core, but I licensed it to them, rather than selling it. They got their hands on alien technology without going broke, I got a steady source of income and retained ownership of the big-ticket item. Win-win.
Or at least, it seems that way now. At the time, I was quite frustrated with the breakdown and dissolution of the Council. I still am, but somehow, even without the Council, we're still here. Back then, it felt like everything was crashing down around me. I got disgusted. I let the money roll in and pile up for a while, then invested in an independent Zoner transport, the Bubs' Concession Stand.
Having secured another source of income, I decided I needed some time away from Sirius politics. Further, I figured we ought to test whether the new Jinkusus really could survive long expeditions without resupply. And so we flew off into deep space.
The fruits of that journey came not from without, but from within. We did not discover any particularly interesting planets or valuable resources. But with an abundance of time and few distractions, we focused on research.
The biodomes proved highly effective; turning light into food, recycling air, water, and waste.
We dabbled in the sciences, developing things like techniques to repair radiation damage without the aid of a station, and mechanically assisted combat armor suitable for extra-atmospheric operations. The latter efforts led to the construction of my personal suit, but it proved too costly to mass-produce. One of many things I plan to approach our scientific communities with in the future. I fear we will have perilous need of it.
We also dabbled in philosophy. I still intended to return one day, and try to unite the Zoners once more. Aside from those whom stayed on after the demise of the first Burninator, my new crew matched the old crew; civilians working towards their own self-interest or scientific pursuits. I had to get them to come around to my way of thinking, if we were to one day return to civilization and act as a defender of the people. Eventually, I convinced most of them.
By the time we returned, the Zoners had expanded into Omega-49, and Livadia had started building the Nephilim class.
The new Nephilims were impressive. Not only did they retain all of the offensive, defensive, and self-sustaining qualities of the Jinkusu, but they were also light carriers.
This time, though, I was not obliged to be saddled with a crew of independent financiers. Between the value of the second Burninator and the liquid assets accrued from my investments, I was able to fund the construction of the third Burninator myself. Now, I could fill in the rest of the crew with whomever I saw fit. It wasn't difficult to find young, patriotic idealists to fill the few empty beds.
I looked out the metaphorical window, and saw that Sirius was a mess. War between Liberty and Rheinland, and between Kusari and Bretonia. And then, eventually, between Gallia and Bretonia.
I confess, I panicked a little. Suddenly, I felt like I needed to be able to get to any Zoner base at a moment's notice. Several of them are in what are now warzones, and we cannot trust that the warring parties won't gobble them up. It was a concern back then, and it's still a concern now. I hear Liberty took over Freeport 4.
But relocating a battleship to these various regions quickly is just not possible. I needed an away ship, but I was loathe to pick anything but the largest, most heavily armed vessel I could cram into the Burninator's docking bay. I figured we could make a gunboat fit, but there were few options available at the time. The Conference was, and still is, an underperformer in its class. I set my sights on the Order's Hathor, figuring I could barter the alien device I had recovered for one. But they had just suffered a major defeat in the loss of Toledo, and couldn't help me.
In hindsight, I'm glad that didn't work out. It would have been a huge mistake on my part. I would've lost a source of income, and a comparable ship, the Montante, launched onto the border world markets shortly afterward.
Starting to get a little worried. That kid should have reported in by now.. hm.
Where was I? Oh, right, I was recalling the events leading up to the acquisition of the Consummate V.
Anyway, around that time is when I met Toan Varcona and the rest of his Space Exploration Force, now defunct.
Good people, the S.E.F. Interested in science, exploration, and carving out a little piece of Sirius for themselves. Which they did, in distant orbit of planet Fuerteventura.
We forged a mutually beneficial relationship. I used the Burninator to supplement their defenses, and arranged for the Bubs' Concession Stand to bring them construction materials. Additionally, I brought my diplomatic experience to the table. In return, I got to cherry pick some of the technology they developed for my own needs.
It wasn't all sunshine and flowers, though. Most of our convoys went through Bretonia, and the Mollys were a real pain in the backside. The S.E.F. even had a few dustups with them. Unfortunately, I wasn't there to help them, as my attention was split between them and some concurrent turmoil involving Freeport 9. I believe they lost most of those encounters.
This was a turning point for me, as up until that time, I held no Zoner in higher regard than another. Everyone was worth protecting. But now...
I'll be honest. It was long ago, and I don't remember whether we asked OSI for help. But I do know that the S.E.F didn't get any help from them, and worse, OSI helped the Mollys build a base right next to the jump hole on the Dublin side. Then, surprise surprise, the Mollys put weapon platforms all over the place and set them to shoot anything that didn't pay them off. When I called on OSI to explain themselves, I seem to recall their excuse being something along the lines of 'we didn't know that was going to happen.' Oh well, no problem for you, right OSI? You've got so much money, you can just pave the streets with gold wherever you go. Who cares about the little guy, right?
(Metal-clad fingers scraping against a metal surface)
*Sigh*
That's another reckoning for another day. Eventually, the S.E.F and I managed to complete their Citadel.
Taking a break from the history lesson to record a current event.
Heard there was trouble in Pennsylvania, today. Someone attacking Zoner shipping vessels. We set out in the Consummate V and got there as soon as we could, but it was a long trek from the Omicrons.
It turns out that it was two Zoner transports that got involved in some kind of alteraction. I wasn't there, and I had only hearsay to go on, so I did not judge between Zoners.
It would have been a big waste of time, except that while I was trying to piece together what happened at Bethlehem, another Zoner transport, the -Llane-, started destroying transports, tractoring in the cargo, then turning right around and docking on Bethlehem! Piracy, even amongst the Zoners!
And before I could react, an LSF agent showed up... Timothy.Williams. He told me to leave. I can't say for sure, but I got the idea he was working with -Llane-!
Fortunately, a 5th fleet Dreadnaught, the Cincinatti, uncloaked beside us before things could escalate between myself and the LSF, and soon afterward a freelancer escorting the Cincinatti arrived via tradelane. This turned the confrontation in my favor. The Cincinatti's CO wanted to arrest the trader, prompting a standoff between him and the LSF agent. Things escalated between the two, each daring the other to fire the first shot. I calmly urged them to leave the vicinity of the station, and then alerted an officer of the Liberty Navy primary fleet. They came over with some more LSF, and managed to defuse the situation.
My mission was, overall, successful. Bethlehem and Zoners unharmed. The Liberty Navy and LSF embarrassed. And I got some free intelligence!
Though there are unresolved threads. The LSF are after two men on Bethlehem, one of which is a trader, Zoner.01 (wanted for possession of nomad artifacts), the other is the "Zoner" pirate -Llane-. I'll have to track down a comm frequency for Bethlehem's administrator and alert them. Not much else I can do. Didn't even think to grab any evidence, as the possibility of hostilities with the LSF agent was a bit distracting.
The S.E.F's base was about half completed at the time. No defensive platforms yet.
So out of the blue one day, the Coalition shows up in Omega 49, mad as a wet hen. They accused us - as in, the Zoners of Omega 49 as a whole - of attacking one of their stations. Terrorism! Blowing up a school, or some nonsense. It was ridiculous, and we told them as much.
They didn't seem to much care, though. Maybe there was an accident, or a malfunction, and they just needed someone to blame. Regardless, we had Coalition warships stomping all over Omega 49 for several days, laying claim to anything and everything they laid eyes on. They even took a few shots at the Citadel.
But as much as I wanted to give in to anger and smack them down, we already had enough problems with the Mollys. And so I stepped up and told the rest of the S.E.F to follow my lead. We stared them down. Eventually, they gave up and left.
Supposedly, some bigwig from OSI went over to their side to smooth things over. No idea what happened to him. Maybe they ate him, and our sacrifice appeased them. One can hope.
Anyway, I ended up the recipient of some sizable donations due to my role in suppressing the hostilities until the crisis blew over. My resources grew. Later, the Citadel was completed, and the first piece of technology that rolled off the line was a cloaking device for the Burninator.
That about concludes the important history. Now, to track down that kid..