/Login: Neural Net ID ********
--Welcome Jenkins--
/Access: personal files
--220 Files Found--
/Search: keyword- "biography"
--1 Match Found: file rjbiography.enc--
/Access: rjbiography.enc
--Password?--
Raafe lounged in the pilot seat of his transport and smacked his head with the palm of his hand.
"Password?!? Are you serious?" he groaned, "FRACK! I don't remember it!"
The computer waited for a response...
Raafe sighed. "I can't even remember my own password... this is sad."
The computer just stared at him, waiting for the proper combination of letters and numbers.
"Fine," he grumbled, "guess I'll just have to do this the old fashioned way."
--Password?--
--Password?--
--Pass*click*
Raafe got up and walked over to the small navigation station behind his pilot chair. He sad down, took an old ballpoint out of his pocket and began to look for something to write on.
"Awwww! Come ON! Where's a piece of flimsy when you need one?!?"
Suddenly he remembered that he had a small shipment of flimsy in the back. Surely the station wouldn't miss one piece? He ran back to the crate, opened it, and began to write...
_____
Steven Jenkins was born one semi-arid day on planet Denver in the small town of El Paso. His parents named him Steven after his grandpa. As a child, Steven had everything a boy could want. Friends, loving parents, and plenty to eat. Yet, as Steven grew, he came to dislike his life. Things were just too... normal. There wasn't any action. Everything was safe and secure. He never told anyone his thoughts, but he was bored with his life.
After 18 years at home, Steven went off to college. Hunt's College in New York, to be exact. There he tried to find his "calling". He studdied portions of electronics, chemistry, and even some music; but it was all empty to him. Under growing pressure from his parents to graduate with a degree and the ever increasing ammount of money he owed the school, Steven lost it. One night, when his roomate was out, Steven snuck out to the local landing pad and stole a Starflyer. He'd never done anything illegal before, so he was wired tighter than a squirrel on crack. He made it to open sky and headed for the nearest Liberty Navy Recruitment office.
The Navy wouldn't take him. He was weak and gullible. He didn't like to take orders and he had the hardest time remembering names. Running out of pocket cash and having nowhere to sleep, Steven headed for a Zoner base in Pennsylvania.
Bethlehem Station proved to be decent as far as accomodations went. And the zoners didn't ask questions. Wanting a fresh start, Steven sought out a zoner on the base who helped him change his registered name. No longer Steven, Raafe decided to seek his fortune as a miner. He'd seen the ships come in with their holds full of ore and more importantly, he'd seen them leave with a large pocketbook. So he modified his stolen Starflyer with a small chaingun, which he thought would prove useful, and headed out to the Helium feilds.
_____
Raafe stared at the page he had just written.
"Dang, this is... boring."
The page stared back at him.
"Well, what do you want?" Raafe spoke to the page. "You're supposed to convey my not-so exciting past in an exciting way! Don't look at me like that."
The page sat perfectly still.
Raafe exhaled. "Misery! I can't even write a decent biography!" He collapsed back into his pilot chair.
Suddenly, he remembered something.
"I HAVE IT!" He shouted in the silent room and scared himself by doing so.
He went back to the flimsy and began to write furiously...
_____
Raafe was never very good at settling into any one job. He tried working as a miner, a mercenary, a miner (again), back to mercenary work, and finally trading. In the process he blew countless millions outfitting a ship for his job only to sell it and buy a new one the next time he got bored with his work. He met many good men and blah blah blah until panda's exploded all over the stage! Penguins, penguins, penguins! I'M A CHICKEN WITH NO BRAIN!!!!
_____
Raafe sat back and smiled at his work.
"Heh. Now that's more exciting."
The flimsy glared up at him with all the bold black letters he'd recently flung onto it.
"Seriously? You still aren't happy?" Raafe scolded the page.
"Well fine. I'll just find someone else then!"
He walked back to his pilot's seat and sat down.
...
Raafe banged his head on the helm dashboard a few times and then grabbed a small bottle of synth-cola out of his small beverage locker.
"I'll have to remember to get more of this stuff the next time I land..." He said to himself.
Now he had a headache.
"Owwwww. WHY do I do that to myself?"
The dashboard had a small dent now.
"Well THAT's going to hurt the resell value," he muttered. "Need to find myself a girl. Someone who understands what it's like to be 'average'."
The ship's display gave Raafe a look of... sympathy? or maybe not.
"Zeus. I'm going crazy in all this solitude."
He sat back down, wiped his mouth on his sleeve and belched. "Yech. Maybe I'll go with non-diet next time..."
Raafe accessed recent job listings and saw an opening available with Daumann Heavy Construction.
"Well, looks like we're going to Rhineland," he said to his ship. "Let's pray my luck turns out better there."
The computer beeped as the coordinates were locked in and Raafe settled back in his chair... and slowly fell asleep.
Raafe was surrounded by mist. A great white wispy mass that kept swirling at and around him. It was cold, damp, and humid.
"Where am I?"
"Hello?... HELLOooooo?"
No reply.
The mist continued to swirl. Raafe took a step foreward through the... snow? It was a white powder, but it didn't seem right for snow. Then he saw it.
He was in a ditch. Or maybe it was a trench? Either way it was full of the powder and the mist made it hard to see how far it went. The walls came up to his nose, and had drifts against them.
Out of the whiteness and confusion and the complete and utter silence, Raafe suddenly saw a small blue light blinking in the bleakness. It was very weak, but it was something at least. As he approached, the light became stronger and a faint beeping reached his ears.
The light was attached to the end of a small metal cyllander that beeped in time with the flashes.
Raafe reached out to dust the snow off the object and the beeping became faster. Curious now, he gently grasped the metal tube...*BLAM!!!*
~~~~~~~~~
Raafe Jenkins jerked awake with a gasp and quickly checked to see if his hand was still attached to his body. He grogilly glanced at the console's beeping blue light that told him he had missed a transmission on the comm. But before he could reach over and thumb it on, he was thrown out of his chair by an immense impact. Now wide awake, Raafe recovered his ballance and turned on the comm.
"...think that you're gonna get off the hook by not talkin'?" said a rather unpleasant voice.
"Um... hello?" Jenkins cleared his throat. "This is the Miner's Folly, Captain Jenkins speaking. How may I help you?"
"Wha? You didn' hear my demands?!?" The... pirate? asked.
"Errr... no, I was asleep when you stopped me," Raafe appologized.
"Oh. Well, I wan' two million from ya. NOW!"
"Two MILLION?!?"
"Yeah! Two MILLION! Or I shoot!"
Jenkins started to sweat. He didn't have two million. He barely had enough to buy goods to ship.
"Uh... I don't have two million. I barely have*click*
The pirate disconnected from the channel and Raafe could see a torpedo being loaded into...A TORPEDO?!?
Raafe lunged at the comm and tried to get the pirate to listen, but things were already going too fast. A single torpedo headed straight for the Miner's Folly.
"No, no, NO!!!" Jenkins ducked under the dash and curled up into a ball. There was an immense impact that turned the ship up on it's end... or at least that's how it felt.
And the ship held! Jenkins skittered out from under the dash to look at the damage.
The sheild was still up and looked like it could take at least three more shots before going down.
"Alright punk. You wanna play rough? Fine by me."
Raafe Jenkins powered up the turrets and opened fire. Bolts of sizzling yellow and brilliant green streaked out and thundered against his assailant. Within seconds the tables had turned and the would-be pirate was running as fast as his cruise engines would take him.
Raafe was stunned. He didn't know the Miner's Folly had that kind of firepower. Further inspection revealed that the original sheild unit had also been replaced by a previous owner.
"Wow," Jenkins said, "you have some secrets, don't you?"
The Miner's Folly hummed quietly as she attempted to restore full sheild integrity.
Chuckling to himself over this small victory, Raafe Jenkins dialed in the coordinates for Rhineland once again. Then he reclined his pilot chair, engaged the autopilot, and drifted off to sleep once more...
Unfortunately the job opening at Daumann wasn't there when Raafe arrived.
Fortuantely he had thought ahead and brought along an entire load of superconductors.
Jenkins docked at a nearby base and sold his superconductors. Now that the job offer had fallen through, it was time for plan B. Start trading riskier cargo to make more money per run. Jenkins had heard of a few runs in particular that might hold the key to quick money. There was the gate-parts run from Pueblo Station to the new gate construction sites, the spice run from Cali to Manhattain, and the platinum ore run.
Jenkins sighed, "Ah yes, the platinum ore run."
Back before he'd given up and sold his mining ship, he'd been one of the many prospectors camped out in planet Tremont's ring. It was slow work, but it usually paid off... 46 Million per run, to be exact. But with such great benefits came huge drawbacks. Pirates caught wind of this profitable run, and sought out the paths they would take to sell their loads. Before finally quitting the feild at Tremont, Raafe had lost close to 3,204 units of platinum ore to pirates, ion storms, and other greedy miners. In cash that translated to about 70 Million credits. Finally deciding the risk wasn't worth it, Jenkins sold his scarred and patched mining ship, bought an Albatross Transport and named her the Miner's Folly, after his foolish persuit of quick riches.
"Quick riches..."
Wasn't that what he was thinking about attempting right now? Another dangerous run to make quick profit?
The Miner's Folly groaned softly.
"You're right old gal, you're right. Dumbest idea I've had in a long time."
Silence hung in the air as Jenkins stroked his beard.
"Ya know, it might not be as much a risk if we simply added in a bunch of random cargo to 'mask' the special goods..."
There was a distinct groan this time from the ship.
"Now hold on before you object," Raafe reasoned. "We won't have to do many of these and once we've made enough I'll go back to regular shipping, alright?"
The ship was silent.
"Alright then, no more than 160 Millions worth in total on these risky ventures, deal?"
There was a soft rumble from the engines.
"Well you'll forgive me in time, I'm sure."
Jenkin's slid back into his pilot's chair and warmed up the engines for their new destination, Cali Base.
Luxuria... That name scared him, frightened him, like he was a little child once again. It echoed in his mind and he felt his sanity slowly slipping away... *beep, beep, beep, beep, beep!*
~~~~~~~~~
Raafe lurched awake to the sound of the alarm clock sitting on the dresser. If it could be called a dresser at all. Another night in another Freeport, jobless and alone.
He got up and slumped over to the small mirror and trimmed his moustache. Then it was off to the refresher for a nice warm soothing shower. Only the heater didn't work so it was COLD!!!
Jenkins jumped out of the refresher with super-human speed.
"YEEEOW! THAT'S COLD!!!"
At least now he was awake.
The Outcasts hadn't been too welcoming when he'd gone to see if he could smuggle some spice for them. Something about his reputation with the lawfuls. He'd had to beat it out of their system right quick to avoid the laser fire that came his way when talking broke down. So here he was. Still no cash influx and a lot of wasted time.
He scrubbed the dirt out of his hair and grimmaced in the mirror to see how his teeth looked. Yellow, was the answer. After a breif foray down to the cafe' to get some grub, Jenkins boarded his ship and took off.
He sighed. Things just kept getting worse for him the longer time went on. Maybe that was what the older pilots meant when they said that time in space made a man's heart hard.
Then again, maybe he was just being stupid.
"You know," he said to the Folly, "I've been thinkin'."
The ship waited in anticipation.
"You need some different guns."
There was a snorting sound from somewhere in the engine block.
"Oh, no. Don't misunderstand me, you have lots of firepower right now," Raafe soothed. "The only problem is that they all have a really slow refire rate."
The Miner's Folly was quiet again.
"So I've been looking at getting some Liberty Rogue guns for you."
The ship seemed to gasp in horror.
"Let me finish before you start getting all indignant on me!" Jenkins was frustrated now. "Just because these guns were made by pirates doesn't mean we are taking up piracy!"
Silence once again.
"So what I'm going to do is find a gun-runner who will go and buy four of these Belial turrets for us so you can keep us both safe, understood?"
The ship seemed to sigh.
"Alright then. All I need to do now is find a decent gun-runner."
...
Some time later, Raafe was scanning the long range frequencies for potential gun-runners when he ran across a ship that seemed to have potential. He opened a secure channel and waited for the ship to accept his transmission...
The ship's name was Alsatia. There were no other identification tags. Jenkins didn't know for sure, but he had a hunch this ship might have connections to the Rogues, so he took a deep breath and sent the secure comm invitation.
Much to his suprise the other ship accepted. Now came the risky part.
"Before I begin I need to know one thing," Raafe paused, "do you have connections with the Liberty Rogues?"
The other captain answered that she did indeed have connections.
Jenkins thought for a moment... Do I trust her? She could be setting me up for all I know...
Well he'd come this far, might as well ask.
"I have a particular need, or rather I'm in need of some specific supplies. I'm wanting to purchase four Belial turrets, but I need someone to run the guns for me."
The other ship didn't respond for a moment, then asked who he worked for.
"I'm a freelancer who is close to the zoners."
...
The pause seemed to last for hours. Then the other captain was back. She agreed to help.
"What's your rate?" Jenkins queried.
The Alsatia responded that it all depended on where the exchange took place.
After a long bit of haggling it was finally agreed that the two parties would meet at Ames Research Station.
------------
After a few hours of flight, the Miner's Folly exited the jumpgate into the Kepler system. Raafe steered his ship into the nearby nebula, boosted the power to the scanner, and did a tight sweep of the station. He didn't truely expect a trap, but he wanted to be sure before sauntering on in. The scanner came back... with THREE ships. Jenkins' heart began to pound in his chest.
This very well might be a trap after all...
He opened a secure channel to the other ship and waited for it to be... there. She had accepted it.
His mouth going dry, Raafe tested the waters. "I have almost arrived. Do you have the guns?"
"Yes," she responded, "I have four Belial turrets as requested."
"Ah, good." Raafe still wasn't convinced. "Now this next part is extremely important..."
At that moment a small patrol of fighters came on the scanner, headed in his direction.
There was a small burst of static on the comm as Jenkins prepared for an emergency evasive shutdown of his ship.
"Hold. Having interferrence." Raafe slapped the console switch and killed everything. Small red emergency lights came on in the cabin, and he held his breath, hoping he wouldn't be detected in the nebula.
The fighter patrol came close, but ultimately missed him.
Still extremely nervous, Raafe waited three more minutes before powering up again and resecuring the link.
After making sure his contact was still at the station, he decided it was time to stop playing games.
"Tell your escorts to leave," he was trying to sound threatening, but wasn't sure how well it was working.
The other captain responded in confusion, saying she had no escorts.
Before going any farther, Jenkins refreshed his scan of the station. Now there was only one ship.
What about the nebula? Couldn't they have simply hidden in there? Raafe was still on high alert.
He did another focused scan on the nebula directly behind the station.
Well if they are hiding, they're pretty darn good.
He finally decided to take the other captain at her word and slunk out of the nebula and into the trade lane for Ames. Upon arrival, nothing happened. No ambush, no guns blazing, just a pirate freighter with four Belial turrets in the hold.
Jenkins paid for the guns and then after a breif appology for his paranoia, docked at the station to have the turrets fitted on the Folly's hull.
Then he paid for a room and grabbed some shut-eye. It had been a long and stressful day...
------
That night, Raafe had another nightmare.
Raafe woke up in a cold sweat, breathing hard. The room was quiet and dark, but he could still see the rolling haze of the ion storm outside the viewport despite the curtains. A storm in space... who ever thought THAT could happen?
Jenkins rolled out of bed, set the lights to 'dim', and slumped over to the small table. Reaching into the beverage locker, he grabbed a cola, non-diet, and popped the cap. He couldn't seem to get a good night's sleep anymore. The storm had lasted for a good two or three days past expectations, and had left him grounded for far longer than he liked.
He sighed as he sipped the carbonated drink, letting it slide down his parched throat. He was still tired, but the fear of another nightmare kept him from laying back down and turning off the lights. How long had it been? Three? Four years? Jenkins closed his eyes and rubbed his face, scratching the stubble that now populated his jaw. Four years, and still he was scared they would show up again...
-----------
Four years earlier:
It had been a nice day, as far as days spent behind the helm of a Hugemon-class mining vessel were concerned. He'd filled up the hold three times already and was working on the fourth. The day had gone swiftly, and Jenkins had stayed later than usual to top off his load. There were three or four other miners who witnessed what happened next.
A pair of ships appeared on the scanner. Noone thought anything of it at first, until they entered visual range. These ships... were unlike any that Jenkins had ever seen. Jet black and angular, their wings looked like they could double as blades. As far as he could tell, the small one was a fighter, and the big one... was big. Really big. Guns bristled from every surface. The energy signature was large enough for the scanner to tag it as a gunboat.
Raafe didn't wait for them to open a channel. He'd seen enough pirates to know when something worse was on its way. Beating his own record, Jenkins shut down the furnaces, deactivated the mining turrets, and brought the cruise engines on-line. He thought he'd made it out, until a cruise-disrupter exploded to the right of his craft and knocked out his chance of an easy escape. To further emphasize the point, the larger vessel shot a single round into the hull that instantly took out the sheild generator.
The two crafts circled the disabled ship... slowly...
All the other miners scattered.
Jenkins hands were shaking as he picked up the comm. and asked what their demands were.
The pilot of the fighter introduced herself as "Luxuria" and asked if he wanted to play a game.
"What sort of game?" Jenkins asked.
"You tell me a riddle," giggled Luxuria. "If I like it, you can go."
"And if you don't like it?"
"Then you die."
...
Raafe tried desperately to think of something, ANYTHING he could say that would guarantee his safety.
Did they want to be stumped, or did they want to win? Fearing for his life, he responded with the best riddle he could think of, one that could have had a few different answers. And Luxuria didn't like it.
All hell broke loose as the two ships opened fire. Chunks of the Hugemon were torn away and atmosphere began to vent into space. Deafening echoes of destructive power blasted through the corridors of the ship and reverberated off every bulkhead until the entire ship was humming like a tuning-fork. Jenkins cowered in his chair, squeezed his eyes shut, and began to wonder what death would feel like...
And they were gone. The bombardment ceased and the ships, vanished. Raafe was left with wet pants and a mining vessel that was venting ore and oxygen out into space. He managed to seal off the bridge and limp back to Planet Erie.
---------------
Jenkins lifted the bottle of Cola and downed the last of it. He didn't like reliving incidents like that. It was even worse when he couldn't escape them by sleeping.
Wandering out to a hallway vending box, he inserted some credits and purchased a small bottle of high-strength sleeping pills. He was GOING to get some sleep tonight, one way or another.
That was most probably the worst decision of my life.
Raafe Jenkins had slept longer by far than he'd ever slept since he'd started having nightmares. The problem was, the pills hadn't stopped them. They'd just made it impossible to wake up from them.
When nightmares reach their climax, your mind wakes you up. There's a reason for this. The sleeping pills he'd taken had prevented this failsafe from kicking in, thus Jenkins had one of the worst nights of his life.
Groaning from sheer agony of spirit and body, Jenkins got out of bed and took his time in the refresher. He then put on his favorite shirt and jacket and logged onto his neural-net account.
/Login: Neural Net ID ********
--Welcome Jenkins--
/Access: personal account
--Credit Ballance: 0.00--
/Transfer fu_
Raafe froze mid-type and shook his head.
He logged out and tried again.
/Login: Neural Net ID ********
--Welcome Jenkins--
/Access: personal account
--Credit Ballance: 0.00--
"No..." He breathed. "no, that's not right! That CAN'T be right! I had 63 million to my name just yesterday!!!"
Still confused, Raafe turned on the Neural-net Newsfeed... and his mouth dropped open in shock.
___________
Terrorist Makes Off With Millions!
At aproximately 9:30 CST this morning, the Neural-net Accounting Service was attacked by a lone terrorist hacker, believed to have ties to the Lane Hackers. Thousands of men and women woke up this morning to find their life savings had vanished, right under their noses. The Liberty police are working overtime to catch the hacker, and there are rumors that the military might join the investigation. Total damages for this attack on the banking system are estimated to be above 5.5 billion credits.
___________
Raafe slammed his fist down on the desk, "YOU FRAKKIN' KARK-FACED HACKER!!!" he bellowed at the screen. Just like that, all of his life's work had been erased. Everything he'd worked for, everything he'd accomplished, was gone.
Jenkins took a moment to compose himself before grabbing the small wad of bills he kept for emergencies and headed down to the bar. This was a situation that required something stronger than regular Coke...