Jonathan nodded, slowly walking away from the weapons dealer on Buffalo base. It was a rather peculiar moment, yet, Jonathan knew it had been coming all his life. He, having just made the finishing touches on his ship, was now officially a Liberty Rogue.
Of course, technically, he had been for all his life. He was born to Rogues, and raised on Buffalo base. What choice did he have? Still, it was no doubt the right thing to do. It wasn't exactly a rich life, fighting merely for survival in a hostile galaxy, but he'd grown accustomed to it over the years.
He shook his head as he moved towards his ship, sitting down in the cockpit. Without a doubt the most quiet place on the base. It would take several hours to have his weapons properly mounted, and even then he'd need a while to get used to the Greyhound. Still, he'd been taught a lot, and he knew what he was doing, he hoped. He glanced at the comms, just listening, an amused smile on his face.
He raised his eyebrows. Was his comm glitching?
...He best ask the technicians to replace his comms while they were at it, before he launched for his first ever solo flight.
Sylpheed unfastened the multitude of belts that fastened him into the cockpit of the now battered and burnt Sabre. He'd be using the Werewolf for a few days after this. The damn Navy had really done a number on some of the vital systems. Climbing down from the cockpit he noticed a young man, well teen actually, calling him a man before he'd even got into space would be stretching it, and there was no way this youth had ever gotten into one of Buffalo's infamous Saturday Night Brawl Extravaganza's. Not even scarring, those things could and did get messy.
Sylpheed strolled over to the youth, who by now had climbed into his own cockpit and was listening to the Radio chatter.
"Hope you ain't gonna fly that thing with no guns on it, kid."
The youth looked startled. almost jumping out of his seat, not expecting anyone to be sneaking up on him here. Looking around he stared directly at the man whose face plastered every transmission from Rogue High Command. It wasn't hard to recognize him. The Crime Boss himself.
"Uh....No, sir. Just trying to catch a little quiet time is all."
Sylpheed smiled.
"Well this'll be the last time you do, most of the rest of the time you're sat in here you'll either be running pre-flight checks or being told to get out so the crews can do their thing. Never let em forget, it's your ship. If you don't think something feels right when she flies, tell them. If this ship don't feel like an extension of you, well let's just say you ain't gonna be a Rogue for long. Oh and one last thing, kid."
"Sir?"
"Learn to run. We don't do heroes in the Rogues.
Sylpheed climbed down and headed for the rec room. The young pilot just sat back in his cockpit and absorbed the information.
Jonathan's heart pounded in his throat. He knew he was supposed to make a log entry of this, but how in the blazes was he going to say it? It could wait.
No, it couldn't.
Jonathan drew a deep breath, starting his first log entry.
"Jonathan's pilot log, first entry.
Today I took my new ship out on a little test run. I wasn't planning on anything, just a quick trip around the edges of the Badlands to make sure everything was working and back. My god I was wrong.
I ran into an Outcast in a bomber and flew a little with him. A pleasurable experience. But, what's the saying, all things come to an end?
Before we were fully aware of what happened, we had half a dozen LPI, LSF, LN and Bounty Hunter ships on our tail. We'd strayed too close to West Point.
The ensuing battle itself was interesting enough. Nothing like combat training, though! They tried shooting us, and we dodged, and we tried shooting them and--...Moving on.
The lawful forces themselves seemed a tad...clueless. They allocated half a dozen ships, including a gunboat, to scare off our Greyhound and Falcata. The gunboat itself (and a few other ships) were later moved off by one of the more eloquent, and presumably high ranking Navy officers.
For a while, the battle was 3 versus 2 or so. Then, before we knew it (and, I believe, before even the lawful forces themselves knew it), more lawfulls arrived at the scene. The Outcast and I were forces to flee, faced with a far greater force. Both of us made it out alive and well."
Jonathan pressed the button in his cockpit, ending the recording. He stepped out of his Greyhound, a combination of excitement and fear on his face. Tomorrow another day...
![[Image: lolwut1cp0.png]](http://img14.imageshack.us/img14/3820/lolwut1cp0.png)
