The following is the account of the Xeno ship Apocolypse and its pilot, John P. Mason.
--------------------------------------------
I was on a trade route between New York system and New Berlin, or somewhere in between there. My exact routes, as I've said, have all remained relatively secret. Some know, because they tail me through space like rats after a good piece of cheese.
I entered into Hudson unaware of the fate that would overwhelm me...
In mere moments upon landing from the Jump Gate into Hudson from Texas I was near half shields. Quickly I recovered, sent out the nano-bots in ready defense, and initiated the auto-fire on the turret box.
"Attention, attacking vessel, this is Meiun, of the Zoners? Hail, please?"
...quiet on all channels. The shots rang in again and the great cargo transport was out of shields. Quickly I scanned, this thing was hard to see. Finally a glimpse.
My eyes caught the shadow of a dark vessel, smallest light fighter I've ever seen. I set the ship on auto-pilot and laid the course quickly for the far jump gate to Hamburg.
Running up the ramps to the turrets I chose the fore-guns and switched off the auto-fire. Strapped in, I swiveled the seat to engage this small, swift craft that had nearly downed my shields with a single pass.
So hard to see. Finally it made a pass back at me. Targetting, locked. FIRE. The long range of my turrets, and the touch of a human hand brought down the light fighters shields in seconds. The small ship swerved to the south of me, straight under me. I couldn't see her.
"Attention, light fighter, I have a lock on you and am prepared to open fire. Yield! Now!"
"NEVER!"
Bam. Bam... Two round shots straight in the engines and my shields were down once again. I prepared for the pass; steadied my hands... "There she is! Fire!" I said to myself.
Unbelievably the small craft exploded in a ball right in front of my hauler. "Auto-track on! Snag that pilot!" My ship responded with a tractor immediately and sucked that poor pilot into the hold.
Luckily I had space left for him. I ran down to the lower deck to aid him if I could. There, in a huddled coughing mass, lay the form of a young man, distraught.
"What were you thinking, man?" I ran to him and turned him over for inspection. Medically he looked okay, but the hunger-pangs were evident, and his hollow eyes showed the veracity of a man driven, compelled to hunt, for food alone.
"You've destroyed my ship!" The small form rolled over toward me, raised himself up and lunged toward me in a tackle. I stepped to the side and swatted him on the head with the back of my trusty side-arm. Down he went, unconscious.
"Computer, open comms. Attention Hudson, this is Zoner Meiun. I have a pilot in my hold, grabbed him from a small, black fighter ship. Any claims on him?"
The answer was almost immediate. "Attention Zoner Meiun. This is Barrow Base. Sounds like Mason, John P. Mason. He's been out on patrol. We'll send a detachment to your location. Over."
"That's fine, Barrow Base. I'll lower defensives and prepare for your escort. Meiun, out."
Barrow Base. A cold rock in space. I docked the ship and opened the hold. Knowing that this was not necessarily friendly territory, I held up my hands revealing that I meant no threat to these folk. Children greeted me, not soldiers.
"Food, sir? Do you have food?" they pleaded.
"Stand aside, boys and girls. Move it. MOVE Away!" A fellow in charge stepped forward. Hand outstretched, he greeted me. "Name's Bender. Good to meet you, Meiun."
Over the next few days, I unstolled all my food and spent some time with the folks here. I learned much of their cause, and concerns.
"Forgive John. He's a good pilot, and was simply doing what he could to help his family." Bender, led me through the history of the Xenos and their plight. I must say that I was very intrigued to hear the tale. I've not seen such blatant starvation, or such brutal conditions in all of Sirius.
John, it seems, had taken it upon himself to try and feed the whole base by snagging food rations from passing traders. He painted his ship black, and made some... modifications... to the wings and tail to speed her up, also making her smaller as she flew. A cunning move in a dark system like Hudson.
I met up with John two days later in the medical ward. He was recovering from the burns he had suffered when he ejected into that ball of H-Fuel. "Good to see you alive, son. Anything I can do for you?"
He rolled away from me, "I doubt you'd care." But I did. It's not like me at all to walk away from a person in need, and this place was filled with such folk.
"Actually, I've talked with Bender. I have a proposition for you. Are you up to a little trip?"
He rolled back toward me and looked me in the eye, "You need a pilot?"
The boy was fiesty, thick-headed, and not too bright, but damn he could fly. I took him back to the shop to fuss with some ol' scraps I'd put together and we went dodging the race lanes with Hovis. The kid was a natural.
We toured around Sirius on trade routes for nearly a year. He ran the ship in my off cycles and earned his way just fine. I'd take a break and drop him off on Barrow for family time. Folks on the rock were real glad to see him. We'd pull in with a full shipment of food rations, or water, oxygen, consumer goods and the like.
The Xenos had put themselves in a bind. Technology had passed them by and they hadn't the funds, or the vision, to dig themselves out of the hole they were in. Their society was slowly dying, and this once proud group of folks seemed to be unable to muster the cohesion necessary to do anything about it.
John, after venturing out with me into the system, had gained new perspective, and new experience to help share with his folks on Barrow. It slowly started to dawn on him that there might be something bigger than the failed cause for which they were fighting so desparately to hold on to. Perhaps John could slowly start to change hearts by his own actions.
Don't get me wrong, I totally believe in their cause! I have no doubt whatsoever that the LSF, and LPI are bought and paid for by rich corporations looking to keep the law off their books. I have no doubt that these good folk of the Barrow were given the major shaft when technology gains threw them aside, disposable as scrap metal, and just as cheap. John and the others recounted numerous times for me the hardships they as a people had faced over the years.
There came a day late into the year when I had ran a full load of Diamonds on from Rostock to Honshu, and John had helped keep the pirates at bay for the umpteenth time, so I told him straight up it was time for a reward. I asked him what he'd like, "I need to get home. I need to be with my people, and they need me. I've been savin' up, and I'd like to buy a ship of my own. Can you help me with that?"
"Sure I can, son. What were ya thinkin' of? A freighter, perhaps?" He looked at me with surety in his eyes, "yeah, a freighter to start."
Who was I to keep the boy? He had certainly done well by me, and for himself. We are not possessions, and we are neither given or received. A Zoner simply believes in living and let live. So, next route plan took us into Frankfurt for some raw materials, and I introduced John to my good friend Baer.
Baer set him up with a sweet little freighter (I'd owned a similar model back in my early days of trading), and the kid took to it like fish in water. I'd said good bye many times, and hoped that his path, his future, looked as bright as his face did that day.
"Well, I guess this is it, for now atleast. Good luck out there kid. I hope you've learned what ya need to survive?"
"You've been a great teacher, and a friend, Meiun. If there's anything I can do..."
"No no... You've done your part. You've earned what you've got... and here's a bit of thanks, friend to friend." I handed him a credit card I'd been saving for just such an occasion.
"What's this?" He said. "Just a small... bonus, of sorts. Keep those kids on Barrow smiling, will ya?"
And that's the last I saw of him, at peace. He took the 2 million credits on that card and ran up to Friestadt. He traded in that beautiful freighter, for a fighter, the new Viper I'd heard so much about. I've not had the need to swing through Hudson lately, but I'm afraid John has resumed his pirating.
There's a lesson to learn here. You can take the pig out of the pen, spit shine it with buttermilk, and dress it with a bow... but as soon as the opportunity presents itself that pig is going to head straight for the mud hole again. Now, John's a good boy. I just hope those folks he happens across in Hudson get the opportunity to meet him face to face instead of staring down the barrel of his blasters.