03-04-2009, 05:54 AM
Albrecht Mohr's Logbook
Entry Code: 0304816
Just a routine flight through Cortez. My escort squadron, consisting of my Eagle, two Falcons, and four Hawks, was protecting the Armored Transport Honolulu as it brought some crappy band to the Shetland. The teenage girls liked them, or so I hear, but anyone with fully functioning ears disagreed. Unfortunately, they brought in a lot of money for OS&C, so I had to put up with the whiny pricks. "This couch is too hard!" "This beer's too cheap!" "My life's too stressful!" "I can't sleep lately!" "This food's terrible!" Waaah waaah waah. As luck would have it, I didn't have to put up with them for long. Our lane dropped and I issued the standard order - one Falcon and the Hawks on the Wolfhounds, and the other Falcon helping me with the two Werewolves. The first Werewolf fell quickly, as expected, and I ordered my wingman to help the fragile Hawks out. I pursued the second Werewolf as he led me away from the transport. Eventually he died, but not before I heard screams over my comms.
A pair of Lane Hacker Falcatas had slipped in while we were dealing with the Rogues, and before I could determine the situation, the Honolulu was crippled. Life support failed, and every escape pod had already launched by the time I got there. The two Falcons completely destroyed one Falcata immediately afterward, even firing on the escape pod, but the other one got away. I checked the wreckage, and was happy when I saw that all my coworkers got away safely.
The band was dead. I didn't consider this a loss, and in fact was quite grateful I wouldn't have to listen to the squealing of 14 year old girls anymore. My superiors disagreed; as soon as we landed on Curacao, I was fired. My Eagle was issued to one of the Falcon pilots - she deserved the promotion anyway - and I was left with nothing. Stuck on Curacao, though thankfully not for long. I tracked down a Bounty Hunter that was upgrading his ship and bought his old one, a Pirahna. I didn't care what it was, I simply wanted to be away from there.
Now I'm at West Point, back in New York. Those pirates I captured on the way back from Curacao have gotten me a decent bit of money.
Maybe I'll get a job as an interpreter. I can speak three languages...
End of entry.
Entry Code: 0304816
Just a routine flight through Cortez. My escort squadron, consisting of my Eagle, two Falcons, and four Hawks, was protecting the Armored Transport Honolulu as it brought some crappy band to the Shetland. The teenage girls liked them, or so I hear, but anyone with fully functioning ears disagreed. Unfortunately, they brought in a lot of money for OS&C, so I had to put up with the whiny pricks. "This couch is too hard!" "This beer's too cheap!" "My life's too stressful!" "I can't sleep lately!" "This food's terrible!" Waaah waaah waah. As luck would have it, I didn't have to put up with them for long. Our lane dropped and I issued the standard order - one Falcon and the Hawks on the Wolfhounds, and the other Falcon helping me with the two Werewolves. The first Werewolf fell quickly, as expected, and I ordered my wingman to help the fragile Hawks out. I pursued the second Werewolf as he led me away from the transport. Eventually he died, but not before I heard screams over my comms.
A pair of Lane Hacker Falcatas had slipped in while we were dealing with the Rogues, and before I could determine the situation, the Honolulu was crippled. Life support failed, and every escape pod had already launched by the time I got there. The two Falcons completely destroyed one Falcata immediately afterward, even firing on the escape pod, but the other one got away. I checked the wreckage, and was happy when I saw that all my coworkers got away safely.
The band was dead. I didn't consider this a loss, and in fact was quite grateful I wouldn't have to listen to the squealing of 14 year old girls anymore. My superiors disagreed; as soon as we landed on Curacao, I was fired. My Eagle was issued to one of the Falcon pilots - she deserved the promotion anyway - and I was left with nothing. Stuck on Curacao, though thankfully not for long. I tracked down a Bounty Hunter that was upgrading his ship and bought his old one, a Pirahna. I didn't care what it was, I simply wanted to be away from there.
Now I'm at West Point, back in New York. Those pirates I captured on the way back from Curacao have gotten me a decent bit of money.
Maybe I'll get a job as an interpreter. I can speak three languages...
End of entry.