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Scraps from Elsewhere - Koryin - 12-22-2010
The doctor sat behind his desk, he lost count of how many times he listened to that Freelancer log. It just didn't fit. There were a a lot of missing audio logs, only four of them remained. He turned the audio log on replay, wanting to hear it one more time before meeting the patient.
*Rewinding audio log*
*Rewinding audio log 1/4*
*Rewinding audio log 2/4*
*Rewinding audio log 3/4*
*Audio log rewind*
First audio log, first day in space. My first entry will be dedicated to my father, God bless the coffin in which he now resides. He was a swell man, thanks to him I could shatter the chains or should i sat the tie and start my life as a Freelancer. Yes, yes leather pants and the likes. The Clydesdale looks, feels and moves like a giant turtle, but I am a Bretonian I shall master this beast. I am about to dock into Cambridge, there the rest of the old mans testament will be done and I shall travel the Cosmos, with heavy dough and an act like a boss.
*End of first log part*
*Starting second log part*
Second audio log, two hundred and fifth day in space. This is my last route to Cambridge. I can't take the mines, I can't take the radiation, I can't take asteroids, I can't take more of the god damned pirates, I can't take more of the damned VIP's I'm flying to that god forsaken place in Sigma-17, I can not, will not, and would not take it. The only think I can take around here are the yucky alien organism, just because they don't try to eat my brains until I get too close, and keep their mouths shut.
Damned be the old man. Sending his money to charity, I knew he was insane ever since mom left him. Too many radiation, got into his head. All he left me was a ship, coordinates, and a bunch of smart ass morons to fly around for money. Try avoiding mines in an asteroid field you monkeys in suits.
But don't worry, sad and lonely sanity that listens this audio log over and over again. The providence has put its hand on my shoulder. I am going to meet some guys at Liberty next week. Sell them the route, the ship, maybe get a house, find myself a nice lady...
Ah that will be the life...
*End of second log part*
*Starting third log part*
Third audio log, two hundred and fifty day in space. I am scared. Everything went wrong. We shouldn't have ran into Alaska. It took us days, to get the Liberty forces out of our radars. Damn those men, cheating me into a run for my life, and all for a stupid ship. We haven't seen a a buoy for days. We hid in the unmarked areas, and we couldn't get out. I thought I hallucinated when I first saw those blue shapes, I hoped I did. I hoped I did. I really did hoped.
Where is the god forsaken buoy? Where in this god forsaken system are we? Where has god forsaken me? I hope the Liberty navy find us. Blows me into pieces. I stopped getting logical replies from the Liberty Gunboat they stole. All that the comm brings is just low letter alphabet mixed with numbers. The worst part is they just keep following me.
*End of third log part*
*Starting fourth log part*
Fifty eight audio log, unknown day in space. I lost it. The time that is. Don't worry sanity I have not forsaken you. Here is your fifty eight god damned audio log. The problem is I don't know if it is recording. It was going swell, we got directions, blessed be the so called "Order" for clarify*BANG*ing things up. Apparently there are aliens, and *BANG* these aliens want to kill us. I tried to follow the directions, but to no avail. We were ambushed on our way... where was I going again? *BANG* ... *BANG* to somewhere "safe". That gunboat keeps following me.*BANG* I don't know if it is a fruit of my imagination. I started to see order in the comm logs the gunboat sent me.
Me and the gunboat killed some of these "Nomad" species. He didn't stoop shooting and crashing at me until i tractor some of them in the cargo bay. *BANG*. I went in to take a closer look at them. Just a blue mush. *BANG*. A few days later I swear it is watching me move, even through the walls. Even now it gazes. I swear I'm hearing voices also. "Doomed to die" is all I can remember from them through. *BANG* *BANG* *BANG* I guess we are all doomed to die.
All I see is pink outside the ship, pink, pink, pink, and occasionally blue, but only glimpses, but sometimes I swear on my left leg.When I close my eyes, I see only transperant blue. That is when I go into the loo to puke. I fear daddy is coming now. I must go find something to eat or drink. Adieu.
*End of fourth log part*
*End of full audio log*
The doctor rubbed his eyes. Sleep wasn't on his side for a week now. The man had obviously just plain lost it. Surely these were the thoughts of a mad man. Alien species, secret organizations, mine fields. Pirates okay, but the else?
He came out of his office, dressed in the white doctors gown. The shoes squeaked on the pearly clean floor. He passed through the arc door, which was separating the mentally ill and the doctor rooms. Numbers scrolled in front of his eyes, as he watched the passing doors. In the end of the corridor two guards were stationed at a door with the number 72 written on it.
As the doctor came closer, the guards asked "Identification, please.". "Doctor Williams" he left as a response, while showing his ID card. The door opened. The inside of the room was padded with white mattress, and a single chair in the middle of the room. The far right corner was held by a man with an equal height, and mass. Not someone you could call a wimp, but you wouldn't call him a body builder either.
This was one of the things the doctor seemed suspicious about. You don't meet a normal Chad in a asylum. A pirate trying to escape prison, yes. A guy with a mountain of a body who started cutting himself because he isn't loved, yes. A psychotic who killed his mother and started a shoot out at the local mall, yes. But not someone normal.
"So we will make one last test before we let you go.", said Williams trying to get the patients notice, as he sat down.
"How many questions will there be?", came a counter-question from the corner.
"A few. Don't worry about it old chap. For how long do we know each other?"
"I don't know. You locked me in a padded cell, how am I supposed to tell time?"
"Well at least you are realistic. Tell me do you keep hearing voices"
The man in the corner finally turned his face towards the psychiatrist. "No."
"Is your father dead?"
"Y-yes." muttered.
"IS HE DEAD?" angrily the doctor shouted.
"Yes. Yes he is. Can I go now? Please, I want to get into my ship"
"Yes you are free to go. Officers, take him to collect his things. I hope we don't keep seeing each other for a while Morti."
The fully equipped authority members came in grabbed him by the shoulders, and dragged him out.
"The feeling is the same" was the last words the doctor heard from his beloved patient. He was so happy that the electrical therapy and the lobotomy did such a great job.
Scraps from Elsewhere - Koryin - 12-23-2010
// Sorry if it isn't going great. It is still my first RP diary. Please pm me if you want to comment on my progress and give advice. I'm really sorry for my puke - terrible English.
The planet Grand Canaria is a beautiful place. Even the cities look like in harmony with nature. The Zoners that live here are happy even dough they aren't a industrial or technological wonder. Wrapped around in white clouds, the planets look if one has to describe it Peaceful. Many fugitives, freelancers, mercenaries and victims of war find their place and happiness here, even though for the constant looming danger of Corsair pirates. But no system stays untouched by the folly hands of war.
Ah, the Star Port the face of every planet. Where culture meets practice, where people come and go, where lies the heart of almost every city. Mortimoros hurried his way trough the busy streets. Ship dealers, vacation offices, pubs, trading offices and even some shady weapon dealers hang their fliers on the walls and windows across the streets. For a untrained eye everything could seem like a complete chaos, but spend enough time in space and even a bunch of drawn scribbles seem more ordered.
He soon arrived at a big ship dealer shop. The Zoners are one of the best ship dealers, due to their Zoner neutrality they have a really observant eye in the matters of trade. Mortimoros went to the most nearby serving post where, he hand over his ship details and went to the dealer while they pulled it out of the shipyard.
The dealer was a middle age man, with a smile on his face and a chip on his shoulder. The Zoner uniform applied him like a jumpsuit. Tight, even too tight. His smile widened as he saw the freelancer coming his way. He didn't even turned back to see the ship, he already knew what it was, where it was manufactured and even what individual marks does it have. The Zoner ship dealing skills were so sophisticated, that some people even thought them about magic.
"So we are here to sell this old Clydesdale now, are we?"
"Drop it into parts I don't wanna see anything from it."
"My, my you sure are in a hurry. What might that cause be?" the freelancers face got redder with rage.
"None of your business. How much did you say it was? I couldn't hear it from your god damned shoving your nose into other people's business."
"Now, ain't that a language... Would you at least like a last look in it?"
"Yeah, sure ready the documents while I'm at it." Mortimoros replied as he strolled at the ships door.
The inside of the ship was very dirty. "I haven't been here for a few days and every thing goes to hell." thought the freelancer. He took a drink from the vending machine near the cargo bay, he installed to if some of his passangers wanted something. But the fugitives from the Tau system didn't talk too much. He took a peak into the cargo bay. Everything was stripped from it. He always told the fugitives to get everything they can before they leave, he didn't want to be traced by the Bretonian Authorities.
A sudden sound in came from behind him. Mortimoros fell to the ground turning his back, trying to protect himself with the half-full can. The silence crawled in. He waited five minutes with his back against the wall before he stood up. The sound came again, he couldn't identify what it was but he was sure it came from the Control Room. As he slowly walked to the source, the rumble became louder and louder. Pulling out his gun he waited for the sound to come again.
He dialed the security code before waiting for the sound to stop. As the door shifted he jumped to the closest corner. It came as a reflex for him. The freelancer saw a man rummaging his desk. What was left of the mans white hair hid his face a little.
"Dad." the question broke the silence.
"Who did you expect? Santa or the bogey man?"
"But, you are dead. I saw you god damned corpse. YOU ARE DEAD."
"Well I'm here now. Oh, and sorry for leaving you and your mother. It was a shame."
"Oh, no I had enough." The shots from the gun echoed through the space port. Some people even fled in the busy streets. The old man was untouched.
"Well. Are you done with you panicking and your shooting yet? You were going to forget the nav map data you picked up on your journey."
"WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON HERE?"
"Oh, and take this thingy. I think you are going to need it." A purple diamond big as an egg, with some engravings on it was in between his legs. It glowed a little. But it was darker in the middle. Like it had something inside of it...
The outer ship door opened. And boots banged their way to the cabinet. Mortimoros turned his head for a moment and the old man was gone. The artifact stood between his legs. He put it in his pocket and throw the gun away. Five men with rifles came into the room, picking in aim everything that moved. Three guns were pointing at the freelancer, one at the pistol and one on the big chair. The Zoner salesman came without making a noise.
"No,no this won't do. You will have to cut the cost for the ship, plus the fine for being a jackass to people. We can will give you one million for it and that is if you leave in five minutes or less. Now go before I change my mind."
The guns followed him rising, pointing at the head, near point blank. In ten minutes the star port was as normal. Everybody forgot about the incident. Rumor spread about a lunatic, who claims to see aliens. As the rumor spread like a pandemia, a lonely class Eagle ship left Grand Canaria, with a strange artifact in the cargo.