Drake Newport Personal Log

[DrakeNewport]

Testing testing... is this thing on? Recording? Excellent. Now how to delete a line... bah, never mind, we shall roll with the punches, as it were.

Hello... universe? I am not exactly sure what a pilot's log is supposed to look like or contain, or who will end up reading this. Truth be told, I never really expected to last long enough to create any stories worth sharing. "Docking" on Leeds is always an adventure in and of itself. Gallic patrols, atmospheric conditions, acid rain clouds (did you know that acid rain is unaffected by shields? Neither did I!), resistance flack cannons (we're a little too good at hiding our bases and keeping their location need-to-know it turns out), etc. Survive all that, and you earn the privilege of trying to outrun Gallic patrols to sneak your way out-system. Maybe you hit a few scrub fighters on occupation duty. Maybe you hit a gunboat captain with a chip on his shoulder looking to earn a more prestigious position. Either way, if you survive that and navigating a jump hole (or running the gauntlet through a hostile jump gate) you get to talk your way past the Liberty Navy while they wonder why you're hauling crates clearly labelled "Black Market Munitions" for the return trip.

It is a living.

My first trip, I was lucky. I was lucky long enough to get good, and here we are. In a heavily modified civilian shuttle (OSC makes ships smaller than an Enterprise, who knew?) carving out my own little corner of the war to do my duty for queen and country. I tried to lie about my age when Kusari invaded and was told to have myself a birthday or two before trying again. By the time I was old enough to fight, the BAF recruiters had long since pulled out. The veterans that stayed behind said I'd never have made captain anyway.

Well, look who's laughing now. I've got a shiny letter of marque from her majesty's government and a shiny new title from the "Leeds Resistance Forces!" Not that the LRF is anything to brag about just yet. It is essentially me and one other guy. But, in the strictest sense of the word, it is an organization, I'm not just gallivanting out there on my own anymore. I carry tags on my ship and an even bigger target on my back, but I'm part of something greater. If I don't come back from my next patrol, someone will care who doesn't have the last name "Newport." It shouldn't make a difference, but it does.

And so, the log. Maybe some historian for the Imperial War Museum will find this and use it one day. My grandfather on Cambridge used a personal diary of one of our ancestors for his thesis on ancient Bretonian history, so maybe Drake Newport XVII will likewise see this. I imagine he will think I was an idiot and a fool. I imagine he will not be terribly far off in his esteemed assessment. I can only hope that he will be grateful, and that he will be under the Bretonian flag.

Of course, in the meantime, I have more immediate concerns. Newport signing off.

...off. Stop. Please stop? Bloody thing, there must be a button somewhere- HAH! Found you!

---