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+--- Thread: Simon Wilberg (/showthread.php?tid=12333)
Simon Wilberg - Magoo! - 09-22-2008
Pacifica Base, Bering System - Independant World
I sat in a short bar stool, slumped over a pint of some vile concoction which smelled like vomit and felt like swallowing a rock. The alcohol tearing my taste buds from their age old home as the drink slowly crept down my throat. My eyes were glazy, my head spinning.
Over at a table was the old leader of the Worker's Front. A washed out old Unioner who held dominion over the base. He sat at that table day and night, trying to get others to complete his assignments for a portion of the pay. On ocassion he would waylay the passerby and offer to make him friends with certain undesirable parties. For the most part he was a has-been. He had a thousand or more angry Unioners here with slowly diminishing coffers as the support costs of our base suckled on our funds yet he refused to use them to gather a single credit.
In the hey-day of the Worker's Front, we would swarm entire Rheinland battlegroups and destroy them. Four of us in our heavy fighters could destroy a RepEx cruiser with minimal damage or casualties. Dogfights with the legendary Rheinland Military aces would often result in us being totally outnumbered yet destroying several of their ships while losing one of our own and escaping with our lives.
Not anymore though. Our "glorious" leader who promised us revenge against Rheinland and the shipyard companies now sat in the bar, in a prepetual state of drunkenness. Our Eagles gathered dust, their systems ceasing functionality. Even contact with our Guard base had been all but lost, and now few if any among us remember its location. We could find the system without trouble, but the base always eluded. Myself and a few other Unioners yearning for action would scan Mackenzie in hopes of finding a pilot able to replace our leader; our ships only at half their possible performance. Yet trip after trip nothing resulted except for wasted fuel and a greater debt to the Zoners of the local Bering Freeport.
Even when the Front was in its prime, the Unioners were still decaying. A dying breed of pirate who despearately needed rejuvination. It had been nearly twenty years since we actually had a place in this sector, since then it had been a decline with several groups popping in and out trying to restore power.
When I heard that plots were brewing against Alster, I knew.
If power could be restored, I would be there, to slay any and all who opposed us.
With any luck, a representative of the Unioners might convince this guy to try and take over the leadership role at Pacifica. If he didn't, I wouldn't know what to do.
But maybe he would. Maybe hes already one step ahead of me.