Entry#: 051
Date: 18 - 12 - 817 AS @ 09:06 SUT
Title: Hmm. x2
I sent Misaka off in control of the Alsatia to find Planet Gran Canaria. She's been in steady contact with Ouray Base using the transmission codes Jimmy sent me. Apparently the best way to get to the system is actually through Dublin, as opposed to one of the Omega worlds like I'd thought. I had originally sent her back to Omega-3 to lean on the Zoners for some information. Looks like she's in for a nice detour. Hope the Corsairs don't get any ideas.
Still need to do something about Sakura, too. The poor little thing no doubt is missing her parents now. But she'll have to wait until I've got my end sorted out first.
So for the last couple days I've been shacked up with the Xenos of Liberty. Quite an unusual bunch. I was expecting a heap of uneducated derelicts much the same as what one typically finds on a Junker base.
I was in for a pleasant surprise. Where one might usually see a cardamine addict foaming at the mouth, I found a needler rifle. Where one might usually see a slaver signing away the lives of thousands of innocents, you find a man trading in black market munitions. Where one might usually see a group of rogues gang-raping a wench, you see a collection of fair-dinkum, if somewhat rough, gentlemen. These guys aren't so bad after all.
Yesterday I put Eva's.Vengeance through her paces. Myself and Jimmy Boob, as the other lass calls him, raided Rochester base for no real reason other than I wanted some blood. I was still quite sore about the Railgun. I really liked that ship.
We rock up and find a Salvager and Recycler, both from the Congress. And we all know what was gonna happen there.
Salvager gets a couple of Nova's to the face and fills the area with scrap metal. The Recycler proved a bit more tricky. In his favour, a group of about half a dozen assorted pirates showed up. I recognised some of them as being Rogues and Outcasts that I'd worked with in the past. Drug runners. Slavers. All sorts of nasty disagreeable things.
So what was a 2-on-1 fight became a 2-on-6 fight. Myself and Jimmy struggled to wear down the stubborn Recycler. That was why I loved them so much. They aren't the fastest, or the most powerful, but they can take one helluva beating before showing any signs of fatigue.
As the fight continued, the Recycler did get worn down. But me and Jimmy were also being worn down. I was almost out of munitions, the shield generators were at their limits and the veil of protection I had was starting to falter.
In a last-ditch effort to eliminate the Recycler, I fired my very last Nova torpedo at the ship. The odds were stacked up against me, the Recycler being magnitudes more agile.
It all happened in a split second. The Nova torpedo hit a piece of scrap metal right between us. It detonated. Both myself and the enemy were within range. I instantly knew this was gonna hurt. A blinding yellow-white light filled my cockpit as the explosion tore through everything.
As quickly as it had begun, it was over. I was still alive, but the ship wasn't doing so well. Alarms and klaxon bells were echoing throughout. I shook my head and regained my senses. I had multiple air leaks, a radiator leak, a missing wing and complete power failure of the weapons grid. The ship was drifting in space now, the explosion destroying the navigation and co-ordination systems.
I was still doing better than the Recycler, of course. He was dust. The stubborn hulk had finally surrendered.
The fight had now stopped, the Nova's shockwave knocking about everything within a 500 meter radius. I knew we had lost. Using the bombers' sole functioning engine I legged it outta there before anyone had a chance to recover from the blast.
Eva's.Vengeance and The.Good.Pain both limped back to Ouray base.
One more of my 9 lives gone.... current count is now -348 lives. But I do now have the trust of these Xenos, and I drew some blood from the Congress.
What would Misaka say if she knew what I was getting up to.... that's a time bomb I'm really not looking forward to.
Entry#: 052
Date: 19 - 12 - 817 AS @ 12:52 SUT
Title: Hii!
Hi Eva, Misaka here!
Just letting you know I found this little log of yours. So now I know everything. You sure do have guts, putting some of our most intimate moments in here. Regretting letting both Kana and Fumika read it with me and glad Sakura didn't catch any of it. Those cat's ears... you really do love them, huh.
And you're damn right you've got a time bomb on your hands. You could've been killed! You might think you're pretty rugged but from the outside it only looks like stubbornness. And I know that on the inside you're just a sweet little girl who likes her candy. You're gonna get a smack across the arse when you get back, mark my word.
Don't forget our little deal. I'm wearing those devices you adore so much on a permanent basis. In return you have to come back in one piece. Soon. Got that?
Entry#: 053
Date: 20 - 12 - 817 AS @ 18:53 SUT
Title: Woah.
What a day that was. I caught up with Jimmy, Tanya and Air again. Every time I hang out with this lot, labelled "The Black Widows", I get myself in trouble. Seems every man and his dog jumps on the KILL DEM XENOS DEYS R BAD HYUCK HYUCK ALL WEPONS when we show up. Navy and LPI especially, even if we've done no actual wrong worth being hunted for.
Going to the beginning, I was coming back from a trip to the Barrier Gate to see an old mate of mine when I ran into Air half way down the tradelane linking Manhattan orbit to West Point. I dropped out of the lane and we had some cordial small-talk before a Zoner gunboat and a Navy Defender appeared on the scene and ordered us to leave.
What? A friggen' Zoner, telling people to leave a place he has no control over? Nah. Ain't gonna happen. Air took the Navy lad on in a duel whilst I made sure the gunboat didn't get wise. The Defender went down after a short joust and our attention turned to the gunboat. He was still ranting on about us Xenos, so we just blasted him. Took a Nova up the clacker and was dusted pretty quickly.
Some time during the fight Tanya and Jimmy showed up. I was too busy fighting the Zoner nutcase but after the fight a scanner sweep showed two extra friendlies.
After all that excitement we moved out to the Pittsburgh debris field to clear out a group of Liberty Rogues a little birdie told us about. Of course, the information little birdies give out should be taken with a grain of salt. We got to the location and we found nothing. We quickly gave up and headed back towards Fort Bush.
That was where things got interesting. At Fort Bush we found the LNS Enterprise, a Navy Dreadnought. We had no intentions of getting into more trouble at that point, but the commander was spitting over the broadcast channels that he was after me personally; saying that he was the commander of the LNS Valiant. I think I can vaguely recall blasting a ship by that name a long time ago...
Anyway, he gets shooty shooty with me and the others right outside Fort Bush, so we get shooty back. Any commander worth the scrap metal he's flying knows not to pick a fight without escorts to back him up. This one was all by his lonesome without a single military craft anywhere nearby.
We all happily dodged the mortars, ack-acks and AA missiles the Dreadnought was trying in vain to hit us with. Those things are all designed for taking out other capital ships you nimrod. Absolutely hopeless against nimble, microscopic target profiles as our Eagles present.
About half way through our little combat training, the LNS Calgary, a gunboat, showed up along with a couple fighters. He was despatched in a matter of minutes thanks to the ludicrous skills of the Black Widows. Never even stood a chance. The very second the others get his shields disabled, in comes a couple of torpedoes to finish the job. All I have to keep out the sights of the fighter support.
It took a while to eat away at its' armour, but we thoroughly humbled the Enterprise after a thrilling 30 minute battle. That captain, assuming he even survived, won't be chasing me down for a while. He did manage to put a few scuffs in my hull though, lucky shots that I just couldn't avoid. I have some bruises and I think a broken rib from smashing around the cockpit like a pinball when I got whacked by a flak cannon.
At some point during the above fight we were joined by a group of pirates consisting of a gunboat, bomber and at least one fighter. I suppose they wanted a piece of the action, a chance to easily remove some big Navy gear from the playing field.
Of course, it was only a matter of time before re-enforcements showed up. They took the form of the LNS Aurora, an Assault Battleship showed up with a full compliment of fighter craft.
We knew we were out-gunned. Not a chance. We all legged it leaving the Aurora to deal with the pirate gang.
So, at the end of the day, the tally is:
3x Liberty Navy Defender fighters
1x Mercenary Zoner Conference Gunboat
1x Liberty Navy Dreadnought
1x Liberty Navy Gunboat
I was so incredibly awesome out there I even had time to take some happy snaps of the action. I know deep down, Misaka, that watching my studly, hairy-chested combat abilities gets you all hot and bothered, so I'll upload them here for you.
Now, I know you'll read this as soon as it reaches the Alsatia. I'm coming home now sweetheart. You can patch me up once I get back. My ribs are killing me and I suspect I have a black eye.
Entry#: 054
Date: 26 - 12 - 817 AS @ 10:49 SUT
Title: Home sweet home.
It took a bit longer than I'd expected to get home. But, to my delight, I received the best homecoming present any girl could ever wish for. Misaka, wearing nought but a pair of off-white undies, jumping me as I drag my corpse out of my bomber inside the docks of the Alsatia.
I was about halfway through disrobing myself when I noticed something new in the cargo bay. I recognised the shape as being that of a Marauder, a single-seater craft which I had been quite familiar with during my previous life as a lane-racer.
Immediately abandoning the current quest I floated over to this shape and had a squizz. My eyes weren't lying, it was indeed a Marauder.
The first words to come out of my mouth the entire time I'd been on board was "[expletive]'in awesome!". Bearing nought but a half-button blouse I opened the cockpit window and jumped in. It was exactly like I remembered from all those years ago, learning how to fix things with the lads from Trafalgar long before I was even old enough to legally fly one myself. A ship just like this gave rise to my first puppy love as well, a striking young gentleman who had treated me to some daredevil stunts and manoeuvres on a fly-along when I was just 12 years old. Looking back he nearly killed the both of us, but of course at that time I wasn't really concerned with that.
I've always loved Marauders, the utter simplicity of them, the no-frills flight that allows you an incredible level of freedom to modify them in whatever way you see fit, to produce a ship perfectly suited to your own needs. I had never actually owned one, instead starting out with the just as simple, but not nearly as exciting combat service vehicle. But now, I was sitting in the cockpit of one for the first time in almost a decade. It felt good. Really good.
Misaka seemed pleased that I was appreciative of my present. But I had to ask, how the hell did she know what I wanted, even putting aside actually procuring one?
Turns out she took a stab in the dark based on stories of my youth that I had been spinning out over the last six months. Jeez, really doesn't sound like much when you put it like that, but it feels like a lifetime. She spotted one of them for sale "on the side of the road" for the measly sum of 200,000 credits. Supposedly there was a problem with the engine and the bloke who had it just didn't want it any more. It had originally been listed as "for spares". But we all know that if only one person alive today could fix it, I would be that one.
For those concerned, I did eventually complete the disrobing process and enjoy the rest of Misaka's homecoming present.
The White Devil has a few dents, a bit of peeling paint and a few little bits missing here and there, enough to eat up some spare time for a while. Where did I leave my socket set....
Entry#: 055
Date: 27 - 12 - 817 AS @ 14:00 SUT
Title: Business as usual
The plan regarding Antaeus' Rising was that the captain, Kendrick Perque, would have more-or-less total control of where he went and what cargo he took there. All credit transfers would be handled by myself, with the crew being paid wages out of the income the ship generates. It seems to be working fairly well, adding business management to my skills repository and bringing in a not great, but comfortable, profit. It's not the profit that I care about really, it's the crew. All of these men now have a legitimate income stream, which I hope will keep them on the straight and narrow and far away from the lure of the immoral trades I despise so much.
Perque is required to log all flights, waypoints, purchases and sales, on-duty and off-duty time. He then sends me the logs every week which I process and send payments to each of the crew's accounts directly.
I made it clear to the crew that they are free to take time off as required so long as they keep it reasonable. I hope this will keep their morale up, something I noted as being a problem among corporate transport crews.
According to Perque, his family has been under surveillance ever since some under the table dealings within Deep Space Engineering put him out of a job and on the LPI's wanted list for fraud and corruption. From what he's told me someone wanted his post as the head of his Mastodon transport; that person made false accusations in addition to planting evidence to remove Perque from his post and get himself promoted into it.
Changing the mood a bit, I think I could get used to living here on Gran Canaria. Yeah sure there are Bounty Hunters and Corsairs floating around everywhere but the Zoners have a strict no-hostility policy which they heavy-handedly enforce to keep everything in order. As long as I don't go out of my way to start trouble there won't be any. Heck, I bought fish and chips off a woman clearly of Hispanic descent earlier with cordial conversation and smiles all round. Just the way I like it.
With all that said, last week's logs from the Antaeus' Rising had an interesting footnote attached to them. Kendrick wants my help in recovering his wife and child from Manhattan City and to let her live on board the Antaeus. Of course I have no problems with the latter request but the former.... might get tricky.
I'm just too nice to people. It's going to be the end of me. In the very near future I'm looking to be going face to face with the LPI and LSF, and on top of that I still have a 10-year-old girl who needs to be returned to her sender.
Entry#: 056
Date: 01 - 01 - 818 AS @ 08:37 SUT
Title: Oh boy...
A terribly intricate and cunning plan, which could have been executed with absolutely no-one knowing that anything had ever occurred. But of course that simply isn't how I do things.
The first step involved Perque contacting his wife, through proxy of his best mate and neighbour, to get her to round up everything of value and get out of the house. DSE has had rent-a-cops watching the house and no doubt the phone lines, for months, trying to catch Kendrick, who, according to them, eloped with billions of credits. Of course these billions of credits reside in the pockets of the man who now captains Kendrick's old Mammoth - but that's a story for another day. I planned this stage out and I must say I'm quite proud of it - the neighbour popping over and asking for some milk, whilst exchanging a letter containing all the relevant information. Dumbarse doughnut-punchers would never figure it out.
Stage two was the most entertaining. I brought the Alsatia down through the orbital docking rings to the planet's surface. We waited for night to fall before heading out.
The Alsatia, in all her ungainly exuberance, came thundering through the sky with the grace of passing flatulence. Atmospheric flight isn't really her thing. All engines at WOT on a 45 angle isn't subtle, for sure. I can only imagine what it would have sounded like from the outside. Flying at almost ground level surely didn't help keeping our profile low. But whatever.
I flew to the prefecture which Mrs. Perque calls home, and at the time set forth in the notice delivered earlier I crash-landed into the baseball pitch at the end of the block. I managed to burn the grass to a crisp. Oops.
My prize ran out from the safety of the trees and within seconds we had the wife and son on board. The rent-a-cops had, of course, followed Mrs. Perque to the pitch, but what were they gonna do? I had a spaceship and they had a car.
The lardball duds came chasing after her across the pitch. Bad idea. I moved the turrets around and got them trained onto the cops. One round, fired into the ground right in front of them. They both froze solid as they realised their position. Time for fun. One more round fired - one cop car nuked and two men in need of new undies.
I really wanted to stay a bit longer and have my way with these bastards, but sadly my fun time was stopped short when some real problems showed up - Air Force fighters, no doubt searching for the massive radar blip the Alsatia presents, flying unannounced over civilian air space. I hit WOT and with a bone-jarring jolt the ship was again airborne. We got some speed up and aimed for space. I, however, was no match for the fighter planes which caught up in minutes.
The leader of the couple did try to force me to surrender, "stop you ship and return to the surface, blah blah blah." Wasn't having a word of it. I just kept getting higher.
I had the rest of the crew on board take over the gunner positions and give the planes something to worry about. As they approached the ship I ordered my crew to open fire. Of course I had little chance of hitting highly trained specialists like these guys, but it would create enough of a distraction to buy enough time to get out of the atmosphere. I could do that - they couldn't - and that was how I would make my escape.
The fighter pilots had to think real quick as a barrage of pulse-laser fire rained down on them from the hindquarters of the Alsatia. With all engines at full power I was steadily getting higher and higher.
The leader gave me one more chance to surrender over the radio.
"Nah. I think I'll just keep getting higher and higher. How high can you go? Eighty thousand? A hundred thousand? Mate, I can go to infinity.".
Everything paid off once I climbed to about 30km. The fighters had reached their operational ceiling and were unable to follow me any further. With my tail defeated and the ship breaking free of Manhattan's gravity well I was able to back off the engines a bit, which was a good thing because I found myself with less than 15% of my fuel supply left.
Where could I go with that much fuel? The only place close enough is Ouray Base inside the Copperton asteroid field. I'm sure the lads there will appreciate sweet little me just showing up out of the blue.
I had to get out of Manhattan orbit before the real Navy sent ships after me. It was a bit hairy flying through open space between Manhattan and the edge of the Jersey debris cloud, but luck was on my side and nothing came after me; once I slipped beyond the edges of the field I was home free.
I set the navmap to the location of the Colorado Jumphole and sat back. I had some time to regroup and reorganise. Kendrick and his family were getting all mushy down in the cargo bay while Misaka was once again furious at my penchant for putting us in danger, but no doubt hot for my studly awesomeness.
Kana floated over from the gunners' bay and showed me something quite interesting - she had managed to snap a picture from the rear camera during our escape. Quite proud of her, actually.
Entry#: 057
Date: 02 - 01 - 818 AS @ 18:37 SUT
Title: Ramblings of a jaded Bretonian lass trapped within Liberty's seedy underbelly.
Excuse the lame title.
So I'm writing from, believe it or not, the bar of Rochester. I quickly realised that my fuel supply was never going to get me to Colorado, never mind all the way to Ouray Base, leaving me with no choice but to return home and hope I didn't get shot at.
I managed to get permission to dock easy enough, most likely because my ship blends in with the rest of the regulars. The cross examinations started once I ran into Tony, the shipwright and dock manager. Bloody hell did I have some explaining to do. My mugshot has been all over the local bulletin boards for the last few weeks, firstly as a kill-on-sight bounty, then as a death notice, and then as a pardon.
So I did my best to explain what had happened to Tony and the audience of familiar faces that had accrued in the dock. I started from the very beginning, how I had been made a target by the Congress for liaising with Xenos, been shot down, presumed dead, rescued by a bunch of Xeno thugs, magically reappeared in one of their ships flying a Xeno flag, taken my rage out on some bastard who got in my way outside Rochester, made some notable progress in quelling the Junker - Xeno war and then rocked up out of the blue one day with a significantly larger crew.
I think the majority of the lads were just happy to see my pretty face again. No doubt a lot of them were pretty lonely without me giving them something to fantasise about every night. But I have been getting a few sideways looks from the odd bloke around the place; and they're all the same sort of person - the one I hate the most - the drugged-out whackos and/or inbred retards who'd sooner shoot at anything with a name starting with "Z" than talk to it.
I am now effectively a Junkess again. It feels good being able to return home, that's for sure.
It does bring about a conundrum though. The last few weeks have seen me actively protesting against the cardamine and slave trades - but if I'm going to live on as a Junker I'll have to start keeping my opinions to myself. Professional tolerance, I like to call it. I don't see anything, don't hear anything, don't know anything, don't do anything.
Another important issue is the number of people on board this ship. 2 children, 5 women and one man. Things are getting a bit stuffy in here. I'm taking Kendrick back to the Antaeus which is currently on "vacation" at the Pittsburgh Orbital Docking Ring.
I never realised just how much crap I've accumulated in here until now. I have a ROC Bomber, Marauder and a Saber all locked up in the corner, each taking up a nice chunk of the cargo bay, plus a lifetime supply of scrap metal in a variety of types and enough supplies to feed a small nation. Time for a stocktake and disposal I think.
One of the ships has to go. It's that simple. Each ship has its' uses and I really don't want to chuck one of them away, but at this rate I'm losing big bucks in lost cargo space and the extra baggage I have to lug around everywhere is eating up fuel something shocking.
Entry#: 058
Date: 06 - 01 - 818 AS @ 10:25 SUT
Title: The McDowell family is smaller.
Majutsu no Biribiri, my Sabre, has been sold to another Junker pilot. Hopefully for a refit and service, but probably to be parted out and junked. Unfortunate, but that's the way things have to be. I can't keep filling up my cargo bay with ships, because ships don't make money. I am, however, 6 million credits richer. Not that it makes much of a dent in my two-hundred-million bank account, of course, but it's still a plus.
Speaking of money, the Antaeus. After the whole rescue thing, I made sure Perque and his crew worked extra hard to pay for the time lost. They left Pittsburgh, where they had been keeping a low profile, with a load of Boron bound for Bretonia. They should be reporting back within a couple days, with a nice fat pay cheque for me.
I do wonder; how long this will keep going before someone realises the ship isn't actually Gateway? She still flies under her old registration, so someone somewhere has forgotten to scrub the ship from the Spaceways Office's records. We'll deal with that problem when it comes.
My bomber is in need of some careful editing of the builders' plate and registration number. My recent escapades along side the Xenos, tearing apart Navy gunboats left right and center, have no doubt put her on the LPI watch-list. All of the Xeno ships are unregistered and effectively illegal, but of course as terrorists it isn't of much concern to them. I, however, have to pay registration and insurance on all my gear, to keep a legitimate profile. Those Police Scanners get into everything.
All I need to do is to rip the transponders out of something else and frankenstein them into the bomber. I still have some Junker kits around here somewhere. More spanner work. Sweet.
And to fund all this nonsense I'm going to be paying my old mates the Outcasts a visit with some supplies.
Entry#: 059
Date: 08 - 01 - 818 AS @ 20:22 SUT
Title: Uh-oh.
The trip to Malta will have to wait. It seems someone found out about the Maelstrom who really didn't need to know. That someone also went and told a swathe of other someones about it, who then went and told the Liberty Rogues the location of their own cruiser and its new owner. Bastards.
So then the Rogues sent a pleasant "please explain" to me at Rochester. Wasn't any point in lying at the time so I just told them exactly what was going on.
To my pleasant surprise I'm allowed to keep the wreckage to myself with some restrictions on operations including but not limited to assisting the Rogues should they ever go to war with anyone. They sorely overestimate the abilities of their ship, but whatever. Important thing is they aren't going to come and get it.
As a result of the general drudgery of the Junkers discovering my warship their attitude towards me has changed slightly. Seems having more firepower than the entire Junker faction combined makes people agreeable. Additionally to that I've received requests to offer my destructive services from the Congress on the behalf of the Junkers of Yanagi in Sigma-13.
I'm heading out to where we left it earlier with the intention of bringing the cruiser back to life and hauling it back to Vieques with some flowers and chocolate for the blokes living there.
I've sent a bulletin out stating that I might be interested if I get certain things my way. Little Sakura, who is asleep in my bed, still needs to find new owners. The poor thing's been horribly traumatised from losing her parents in an attack by Xeno ships in Colorado. The bastards simply don't care if they kill a man, a woman or a child. All the care about is what House they come from. That's one element of their movement I won't ever understand or condone. She does seem to get along with all of us quite nicely, she's really well behaved despite being exposed to the laddish henhouse the Alsatia has become lately. Writing all this up makes me want to keep her on board. She's such a sweetheart, that girl.
Putting that aside, the proposal I sent back to the Congress asks for a Kusari ship to be procured for me in exchange for services provided. I need to be able to get us onto the surface of New Tokyo so we can start looking for some of Sakura's family. That itself will be a mammoth task as nearly every speck of land on the planet is covered in urban sprawl. Locating a single house in the labyrinth of streets and laneways would be akin to finding a particular M10x60 bolt in the Jersey scrap field.
Luckily for me Perque and the boys just sent me their latest report... and a fat invoice to go with it. All this nonsense has left me short of expendable credits.
Entry#: 060
Date: 10 - 01 - 818 AS @ 17:04 SUT
Title: The Maelstrom lives once more!
Immediately after the confrontation with the Rogue greeting party I collected all my property, loaded up with extra fuel and supplies and made a bee-line for the Humboldt system to reclaim my cruiser.
I took control for the first stint, hammering down the tradelanes linking New York to Texas. Once we reached the end of the lanes for our journey I handed Alsatia over to the night shift, comprised of Kana and Fumika. I enjoyed a peaceful nights sleep beside Misaka with little Sakura nestled in between the two of us.
When I awoke this morning I was greeted by the Maelstrom's impressive bulk sitting idle just outside the cabin window. Just how long we'd been there before I became aware is still a mystery, but Kana and co. were sound asleep in their quarters when I took advantage of the gravity offered by the planetoid and went for a stroll through the ship.
Once we have our sleeping patterns back in sync I will be taking a little walk in my space suit, refilling the Maelstrom's fuel tanks and assuming everything still works, flying the old girl back home to Vieques Shipyards.
And once there she will be receiving parts of her weapons matrix. I have sent out feelers to the Rogues for some under-the-table dealings to get my hands on some of their heavy artillery. I'm sure there is something I can do for them to sway their decision in my favour.
And the reason? I leant on some Congressmen whilst still on Rochester and it seems my cruiser is wanted is because the actions of the Congress in Sigma-13 has a chance of bringing "reprisal attacks" from the Hogosha, Farmers' Alliance and possibly the Corsairs.
Those bloody Corsairs! Such a disagreeable lot. But, I must give them credit where credit is due; they make some damn nice young gentlemen, but their customs and general attitude makes me strongly dislike them.
Somewhere out there in the deepness of space is the young Corsair who stole my heart and my innocence. It's going back a few years now, but when I was a wee lass in that little Bactrian, the Corsair home planet of Crete was quite intimidating. All these hostile faces staring me down at every move I made. Wishing me off their planet with intimidating urgency. Made me quite nervous and at that time all I wanted was to get off their planet and go back to Liberty.
While delivering my haul of food rations, I coincidentally met up with this boy who looked to not even be of age, maybe 15 or 16 tops. He was the dock hand who helped me offload the food crates from the Bactrian. Seeing such a handsome, baby-faced lad displaying such youthful exuberance, of course, stirred up the most primitive urges within my body.
As I stood by and watched him hard at work I noticed I was no longer nervous for the eyes watching me, but nervous for what my eyes were watching. Of course I was no stranger to that feeling; spending so much time alone in space allows one to become quite intimate with their own body. But now, I had a partner. Or, I was going to get a partner. I spun a plan and set it in motion.
Once the crates were offloaded, I innocently beckoned the boy back inside the ship, to help me move a non-existent container around, and promptly after hearing his reply sped off to the control console. Once my prize was inside the cargo bay I flicked a switch and in the blink of an eye the cargo bay doors shut and locked, securing my "victim". Fortunately for me he was not carrying any firearms. It didn't occur to me in that split second, but looking back on the situation I could very well have been killed right there.
The very second the shielding was online I flattened the throttle and took off, setting the autopilot to self-navigate. The ship would now fly itself in a straight line, automatically avoiding any obstacles.
The boy made his way up to the cockpit as planned, and I was waiting for him. In the time it took him to fall into my trap I'd managed to remove my top, skirt, shoes, socks and blouse. This is while buffeting through the atmosphere at a not-inconsiderable speed, mind you. The look on his face when he found me was simply unforgettable. Utter shock, but the best kind of it. And although the gritty details of this encounter are reserved for my mind only, I can truthfully state the sex drive of a repressed young Corsair overrides his allegiance to his people. I took his and he took mine - several times in succession - is all anyone needs to know.
The Bactrian took us halfway across the surface of the planet during our encounter, and by that time night was falling on Crete. I set the ship down in a discreet location inside a ravine hundreds of miles from the nearest civilisation, shut down everything that could possibly give our position away and verily enjoyed the company of the teenage Corsair I'd abducted earlier. Such an... energetic lad, he was.
The next morning arrived and I was greeted with a sight I won't ever forget: This boy, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, on top of me all ready for round two first thing in the morning. What happened next needs no explanation.
As much I wanted our little meeting to continue, I knew holding onto this Corsair would very quickly develop into a dangerous situation. I know full well what Corsairs to do outsiders who get close to their own, and I also know what they do to their own when it happens. I flew the ship back to the port and with strict instructions to keep his mouth shut I left the kid to his own devices. I got out of the planet's atmosphere quick-smart and made a dash for Freeport 9. From there on I returned to Liberty with a load of artifacts for the black market.
Although, my orders seemed to fall on deaf ears because the next time I found myself in Corsair territory it was at the receiving end of a gunboat's turrets. I haven't been back since. I can only wonder what happened to that boy. I never even got his name.... One more thing that I wonder about is why there isn't a miniature version of him running around. I suppose the Corsairs' right-of-passage left him shooting blanks, which I heard is a pretty common result. Which I suppose is good in its' own way. Bearing a child of half Corsair heritage would bring unending grief.
...Ahem. I do seem to have wandered off the topic a bit. But this story I made is too... invigorating... to dispose of. So I suppose it can stay.
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