The year was 770 AS, My grandparents and parents moved from Freeport 2 to Planet Erie, seeking a better life away from the stuff and crowded conditions of Freeport life. Almost 30 years later, the Zoner Council decided to let Liberty into the mix and we found ourselves in a precarious situation. While Liberty offered more protection from the usual threats that exist so close to House systems, they also pose a possible conflict of interests, due to Zoner Neutrality. I grew-up in a world constantly in flux, never really knowing if I'm a Zoner or a Libertarian and torn between the two. Eventually I attended U.Caf. (Go Cows!), on Planet Los Angeles, majoring in General Studies (I never had a plan I just needed to leave Pennsylvania). LA was a totally new experience; the music, the people, the drugs... it was the time of my life. It was here I first learned of the legend of Max Cryer, needles to say my fascination has turned to Bio-Chemistry as of late (with a healthy combat interest to keep things... er... interesting).
I've recently found myself working for the Liberty Navy for... ah... legal reasons (stupid SMJ laws). At least it gets me some excitement out of the norm, but it sucks, all these holier-than-thou Navy types give me the creeps, I really need to find away out of this. I'm working some sources at Cryer, see if that improves my situation any (hope floats).
I find myself these days wondering if I don't go around siphoning peoples souls and putting them into little bottles for my own twisted uses. Retropia has been a bigger hit than I had initially anticipated, I'm constantly hounded by people about the stuff. It's turned into a crazy, weird, and twisted experience, I lose track of days as if I wasn't even there, but I know I was with little more than half memories and twisted visions swirling in my head. The Zoners on board the Med Force seems to think it stimulates the Pineal Gland, I've exhausted all research into it, but I can't seem to find any physiological evidence of such a gland, oh well I just assume let it be. I feel I'm letting myself fall into a pit of craziness, and had decided to take a bit of a furlough to get my head straight.
I set out to Planet Baden Baden for some R&R, upon my arrival I felt instantly better, away from the craziness and general crampness of station life. The air was sweet with the scent of flowers, it was warm with a cool breeze coming from the north-west, this was truly paradise.
The attendant welcomed me with a plastic smile in his fascist Kaiser uniform, "Guten tag herr...?"
"Crowley... you damn 'crout eating idiot!", I tell you, you can't find good help these days.
"Ah, herr Crowley, we've been expecting you. Please follow me."
"Your damn right! I made these reservations a full two hours ago, you ignorant god damn twit!", it was official, I had snapped a bit, the wind was ding down and the full heat of the sun was bearing down on me like a Gaian beast on something small, furry, and tasty.
We reached my cabin, it was right off of a man made lake in a secluded part of the planet, surrounded by lush fern trees with majestic white-peaked mountains as a backdrop over the lake. "Here we are Herr Crowley." he said with an equally breathless voice, "Will that be all?"
"Yes, now get out of before I bury you in the bottom of the lake." I said sternly. Apparently that wasn't enough abuse for the fraggin' sorry PFY, he manages a fake cough and holds out his hand. I stare a hole through his head with my gaze behind my aviators. I guess he hadn't had enough, maybe I wasn't a forceful as I thought I was in the point that he should leave... immediately. So I do the only thing I can think of, I take my mostly smoked cigar and plant it deeply into the twits perfectly manicured hand, with slight twists to make sure the ash goes out, nothing more annoying than a still burning cigar. He writhes and screams in pain. "Now get outta here before I find a shovel!" I yell as he runs off into the woods.
Finally some peace and quite, I unpack my bags and check out the place. A long pier extends out from the beach into the lake with a small fishing boat at the end of it. I think to myself, that might come in handy later. I turn on the vid to see what's on the up-and-up, an annoying lady tells me in a prerecorded voice that there's a recreation cabin just a bit down the path outside the tree line.
So I through on my fines tourist clothes, and made my way down the path. The night was cool but not overly bitter, the wind had died down to make it a quite pleasant evening with the stars above and not a cloud in the sky. I make it to the rec cabin, it looked like something from the early Germanic-Goth period. The stain glass windows and high arches gave it a cathedral look. I walk in to find I am horribly under dressed for the occasion, everybody in tuxedos and evening gowns, walking around like peacocks showing there plumage during mating season, and sipping on gin and tonics and other high class-over priced swill. I found a long time ago that you could judge a person by what they're drinking, take the gin for instance; either they're an up-tight arse, or a degenerate fool, and right now I seem to be the only degenerate in the place. I didn't bother to stick around, to due so would only insinuate trouble... and the night was young.
I hail a shuttle out at the shuttle port next door, "Bar." I said in a very stated voice. The driver looks at me puzzled.
"But you are at the Tourist Recreation Area sir.", he says quite puzzled.
"No a real bar you under paid half-wit!", I yell loosing my patience 'cause I haven't had a real drink in hours, and the mood was upon me in an almost Biblical way.
"Sir, the only other bar around here is the designated employee bar.", he puts out.
"Good, take me there.", I reply.
He begins, "But it's..."
"I don't care, just take me there! Do you know how much money I've spent hear? I demand satisfaction!", I yell ranting and raving, like an angry over-sized twelve year old trying to something he can't have.
"Yes s-sir, of course.", he replies quivering, maybe he knows the guy who showed me to my cabin... word spreads.
The shuttle drives off, I pop a Retropia with a Synthetic Marijuana chaser, I didn't know where the night was going to lead to, but I had the sneaking suspicion that I didn't want to be around for it. The shuttle stops at a dingy shack in the middle of nowhere. I immediately thought to myself much better, I got out tossed the driver a few credits and went on in. The interior didn't look much different from the outside. About now the drugs where starting to kick-in, I felt a rush of emotion with the with the visual effects of a star going super nova as a color palette. I felt on edge, the rum I was ordering only fueled my sense of impending doom, things where crazy and twisted, the room was moving like a kaleidoscope, I wasn't meant to deal with this around people in a noisy-dingy dive of a place. I lit a wood-tipped cigar thinking yes, that's it, that'll calm me down. The smoke was swirling around like like streams through the air. The sweat pours out of me like a roast pig, the air is so thick and arid that I almost think I'll have to swim to the door to get out of here. I finally reach the door, stumbling and mumbling as I go. I reach the door, pay-dirt I proclaim to myself, the poor denizens of this establishment stare at me as if I was committing a murder right in front of them. I run into the woods thinking I could find my cabin in it, I was horribly wrong, I made it all of ten feet before the impending doom hit me like a torpedo on a Starflier, massive waves of darkness surrounded me. I got my bearings and ran back out, found a shuttle, scanned my guest card and said Drive you poor-dumb bastard! They're after us!
Things went blank after that, I woke-up the next morning surrounded by the remnants of my cabin, debris laid everywhere, like a massive space battle orchestrated by Bill Shakespeare. At this moment I knew I needed to get out of here. I grabbed my stuff, hailed yet another shuttle Space port, pronto!, I say with increasing anxiety. We arrive at the port, I grab my stuff and head off to the Guest Reception Office. Crowley, checking out, where's my ship!, I demanded.
Ah, Herr Crowley, we weren't expecting your departure for at least another four days. It will take us a while to bring you ship a round., she said calmly. I let it sink in for a minute, all the chaos I've caused, the harassment. My fight-or-flight instincts where telling to get the hell off this rock before they get you.
No god-damn it! I need to leave now! How about that ship, I'll take that one!, I rant.
Oh sir, that is a Democritus, I do believe it's for sale, but it'll take a while to do the paper work., acting like I just made her day (and commission).
I don't care! I'm leaving, bill me!, at this point I'm as paranoid as a freighter flying around Malta. I jump into the ship and start the launch system as ground crew hurry around the ship, confused and unaware of what exactly is going on. I eventually break the atmosphere, and then leave the Stuttgart System. I programed the auto-pilot to fly to Freeport-9 where hopefully the Med Force still is, and then just lost myself in my thoughts to wounder what hells I've brought upon myself.
' Wrote:"Crowley! What the hell where you thinking there?" says some bean counter from the Finance division, referring to my little adventure in Baden Baden. "I was field-testing a new drug to see what effects would be in a non-controlled environment... you twit." I snap back at him.
He comes back with the typical accountant response, "Well that still doesn't explain your expense account, over 100 million creds! What the hell do you think we're made of? Money!", I reply sharply, "Yes you twit. Now if you'll excuse me, I gotta get back to my research.", looking for the first reason to get out of there before they set the dogs on me.
He looks back at me as I head for the door and says, "Oh, by the way, this came from Cambridge for you.", he hands me a manila envelope that said:
Cryer Pharmaceuticals
C/O Dr. Marvin Crowley, Administrator
Experimental Substance Division
Atka Research Station, Sigma-17
What the hell I thought, Doctor, I'm not a Doctor. All of a sudden a wave of excitement hits me, I tear the top of the envelope, and in it was a thick piece of paper. On it inscribed:
UNIVERSITY OF CAMBRIDGE
I hereby certify that
MARVIN CROWLEY
of HOFMANN COLLEGE
in the University of Cambridge
was at a full congregation holding in
the Senate House on
01.26.820 AS
admitted to the degree of
DOCTOR OF PHILOSOPHY
"Haha sucker!", I yell at him as I run like a giddy school girl. I eventually get to the dock were my research ship, the Momo was moored. After a few frantic moments getting my crew together, we took off. After a few hours of roaming around we found the Med Force One, exchanged the usual pleasantries with the Officer of the Day (or what ever his title is), ran down to the bar and announced: "The drinks are on me!" I lean to the bartender and whisper to him, "Put this on Cryer's expense account, thankyou."
![[Image: house0430.gif]](http://sig.grumpybumpers.com/host/house0430.gif)