[font=Book Antiqua]Day Two
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Choices
I've made a decision.
If it's a good one? I haven't a clue.
Good news: I can fly pretty well. The Starflier may be a tin can with pea shooters, but it can handle like no other. I proved my prowess pretty early on, but I'll get to that later on. Let me relate the events leading up to that first.
There was a lot of action in New York yesterday. My comms were buzzing off the hook, and the Navy were in full force. Seems something was going on at West Point. Being the curious girl I am, I entered the trade lane and decided to observe from afar.
What a mess.
Three pirates. One in a bomber, the other two in fighters, fighting at least seven lawfuls. One of which, being a Liberty Gunboat. I swear, the lawfuls are more ruthless than the pirates. They have no dignity, all they care about is cementing their pathetic power trip over the system with mass firepower. It also scares the hell out of me. Why?
I'm going to become a Rogue.
Bad decision? Probably, but I've actually thought about this for awhile now. Moral or not, the Rogues seem like a perfect fit for me. I spent my childhood begging and stealing to get by, and I still know damn well how to do it. I'd never ally with those lawful cowards, and there's no way I'm going to survive all alone by myself. So my decision is made. I'm joining the Rogues.
Easier said than done.
I found a Junker base named Rochester in the debris field behind Manhattan. It's no Rogue base, but it'll have to do. I met up with a Junker onboard that gave me a proposition. He has a Rogue friend. The deal is: I blow up some Bounty Hunter ships, tractor in their escape pods, and hand them over to him to sell to his friend.
Pretty simple, I just hope I don't get killed before I've even started.
[font=Book Antiqua]Day Three
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Blood in the Sky
I did it,
But not without my fair share of close calls.
I took off from Rochester with my confidence level as high as I could muster. It sounded easy enough. Most of the Bounty Hunters in New York are rookies, proving their worth by knocking off low class pirates here and there, so I felt pretty confident that I could burn a few, head back to the Junker base, and continue on my path.
Boy was I in for it.
I found a small Hunter patrol near Baltimore Shipyard. The lawfuls aren't too chummy with them, so I opened up on one of them when he wasn't looking. I was in for the fight of my life. The two man patrol quickly turned into a wing of at least six Pirahnas! I don't know where they came from, but they came all the same. The battle was long and grueling, but I managed to take down about four of them before making a hasty retreat, armor at a dangerous low.
I made it back to Rochester in one piece, and hooked up with my man. All good, the exchange was quick and painless, and my credit account was a fair bit higher after he reimbursed me for my work. Bringing my ship over to the mechanic, my comm buzzed in my pocket.
The Rogue.
He told me to meet him in the bar. Thankfully, they didn't try kicking me out from how young I am. I suppose hanging out with a fellow like this might make you think twice about who to get into a scuffle with. My goal is to be accepted aboard the Rogue base. I don't know what it's called, or where it is. I'm pretty sure that's for a good reason. Even the lawfuls don't have the foggiest where it's located.
Pretty soon, I will.
But not that easily. He was impressed with my actions before, and kindly thanked me for them. He's not that mean a guy, under the scruffy beard and gruff facade. Anyways, he told me of an operation. A job offer, if you will. I was to wait in the trade lane running between Fort Bush and Baltimore. Another Rogue pilot would join me once I was in position. Next, I had to disable the trade lane. Easy, a few shots (of Bounty Hunter weapons, no less. I had blown two Gunslinger models off my ealier prey.) and with a spark and fizzle, the trade lane was deactivated. What was I waiting for?
A police patrol was on their way through, en route with a Rogue pilot in custody. My job was to blow 'em to hell, and hope the Rogue survived the explosion. Either way, success meant one important thing.
Coordinates, and the docking codes to Buffalo.
That's the name of it. Buffalo Base. If I did what I was told like a good little girl, the stage was all clear for me to begin my journey.
And I did it.
The Bounty Hunters were much better pilots. Me and the Rogue I rendezvoused with made short work of the unlucky patrol, and I soon found myself back on the Rochester. I've got the codes, I've got the coordinates.
Time to fly.
[font=Book Antiqua]Day Four
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Path to Destruction
No turning back now,
I'm in waist deep.
With coordinates and codes in hand, I headed off into the Badlands, and into a new life. As soon as I neared Baltimore on the way to my waypoint, trouble showed.
I'm discovered.
Simple as that. A Naval patrol took one look at me, and immediately told me halt. Had they gotten wind of the ambush? That was fast! Oh wait... there are still three LPI officers sitting in my hold. Good one Draya!
Flicking my cruise engines on as fast as I could, I lost 'em pretty quick, thankfully, and continued my voyage into hell. The Badlands really live up to their name. My poor little Starflier could barely take the radiation pockets and electromagnetic storms. Obviously, I made it, but not without a bit of excitement.
On my way to the waypoint given to me, I started picking up some strange readings. I broke course to investigate, and quickly found my hull literally flaking off in idle. Seems I happened across a rather nasty little pocket of radiation. Much more noxious than the others. With my heart racing a little too fast, I yanked the steering controls in retreat, but stopped short when I saw something that made me jump.
An elite Naval Defender. Right in front of me.
I powered up weapons and took a quick breath. Looks like they had found me. But wait, something was off. He wasn't moving at all. Just hanging in front of me, dead in space. A quick scan explained it all, the fighter was in shambles. I was safe. For the moment, at least. The radiation was still ripping apart my hull like tinfoil.
Taking a closer look at the ruined vessel, I abruptly realized that no one was aboard. If they were, they were long gone. Patrol 27, it came up as. Must have been a lost Naval wing who stumbled into the pocket of death, probably damaged in the first place. I gave the fighters (yes, there was three of them) one last scan, and to my surprise their weapons systems were still intact. I fired some low impact laser fire into them, and the hull crumbled slightly, letting most of the weapons fall off into space. Tractoring my spoils in, and continuing to watch my hull strength drift dangerously low, I reengaged my cruise engines and headed back off to my original destination.
Buffalo Base...
It's an incredible sight. Blends right in with all the other looming spires of dark mineral, and would almost be unnoticable save for the docking ports. I guess I'll have to be getting used to it, as it'll be my makeshift home from now on...
After a quick conversation with docking control, and a bit of doubt on his part, I brought my radiation battered Starflier into the forboding dark outpost. It's a pretty nice place, inside. I was expecting a dark, smelly, cellar-like dungeon with skeletons and ghosts, but it's really not all that bad. They have dorm rooms for pilots, modest recreation areas, and basically anything you'd ever need to survive. Not luxurious in any sense of the word, but functionable. Very functionable.
A nice girl named Jessica showed me to a small dorm that I could stay in temporarily, and gave me the information and contacts needed to enroll with the Rogues, then I headed off to the ship dealer. I really need to get out of this piece of crap Starflier.
The Bloodhound.
It's a pretty ship. Well, maybe pretty isn't the right word, but I like it. It's definitely a fair bit more capable than the Starflier as well. It'll be a nice, and much needed, change. The mechanic is helping me work out the kinks in it now, and is giving me a crash course in pirate tech. The folks here are a lot nicer than I expected. Maybe the Rogues aren't so uncivilized after all?
Tomorrow I'm going to talk to some high-ups about taking on some missions, and joining their ranks officially.
Wish me luck!
[font=Book Antiqua]Day Six
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Reality
My first official assignment!
I woke up this morning to my comm buzzing. High command had my first assignment all ready for me. An assassination mission. Sounds scary, doesn't it? Nothing I couldn't handle. I was to head over to Texas, intercept a Naval patrol, and take out the commanding officer.
Was I nervous? Oh yeah.
I replenished my missile system's ammo reserves at the dealer right away. I was going to need all the punch I could muster if I was going to stand a chance against the heavy fighters I was jumping into combat with. After a quick briefing, I was off.
Going through a jumphole is an interesting experience. It's nothing like a jumpgate. Going through a jumpgate is almost smooth. You can sit back, relax, and watch the light-show around you. Going through the jumphole was worlds different. It was newly phase-aligned, from what I was told, so I was warned that it may be a bumpy ride.
Understatement of the year award.
I think my knuckles are still white from gripping my steering controls for all I was worth. My poor little Bloodhound rocked and shook so hard I thought it would be torn apart. Thankfully, I made it. Obviously. I found myself in a debris field, away from lawful scanners. So far so good. I locked on to my waypoint and made it there within a few minutes. All that there was left for me to do was wait.
And I didn't have to wait long. After a few minutes, my quarry showed up right on time. Crossing my fingers, I jumped into combat immediately. These pilots weren't the greatest. New recruits, and the CO was new to his rank. Still, I had to keep my head clear. The second I let my guard down, I could pay the price, so I kept my thoughts as crystal as I could, and fought as quickly and efficiently as I could.
My target was the leader, so I did my best to focus my fire on him. Though my enemies' skill wasn't anything to raise an eyebrow over, their Defenders' firepower was nothing to joke about. My Bloodhound's shielding systems took a serious beating more than once, but I was able to hold out in the end. My target was on fire, lighting up the cold blackness of space around him. A few more bolts from my Raphael laser cannons, and the job was done. Not wanting any more trouble than necessary, I beat feet for the jumphole back into New York.
The trip back to New York was surprisingly much gentler than the last jump. I made it back into the Badlands with my teeth clamped tight to counter the incessant chattering from the bumps and bends of the blinding passage. After a quick and routine systems check, I locked onto Buffalo in the distance and flicked on my cruise engines.
The day wasn't over yet.
Suddenly, my scanners started picking up Hunter ships. Lots of them. I powered up my weapons systems and immediately was engaged by a Pirahna. Looks like I'm already getting known. They were there for one reason and one reason alone, I decided, to take me down. It would have been a flattering if it wasn't the fact that I was about to die. There were just too many of them. I would finally pick one off, just to be met with another. Just as I was about to give up hope, something big popped up on scanners.
The Provectus III.
It was Order IFF'd, and looked pretty menacing floating there in the dark scenery, but he wasn't there to kill me. That was a good thing. I hailed him as quick as I could and requested assistance. I don't know much about the Order, but I do know they aren't too peachy with the Bounty Hunter's Guild. He responded by opening up on the Hunter vessels. They didn't stand a chance, and the remaining ships quickly broke course.
Close one.
I realized something today. Up until now, the gravity of space combat simply hadn't sunk in for me. It has now. This isn't a game. Everytime I, or anyone, get involved with guns and missiles and torpedoes, people either die, or get hurt. It's a scary business, but I've accepted it now. This is what I'm going to do. It's dangerous, but oh well. I can handle it.
I had a chat with the Order vessel's CO. Seems he was tracking a dangerous vessel called the "Necrosis", and had lost him in Liberty. He was en route back to Order territory when all hell broke loose for me, and it was a good thing. We said our goodbyes, and I continued on back to Buffalo.
I need a break...
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