-Constants- Name: Van Kato Origin: Liberty, New York, Planet Manhattan Gender: XY Height: 1.9 m. Weight: 90 kg. Eyes: Green Hair: Gray, medium length, wavy, un-styled Skin: Light toned Appearance: Gray duster coat, worn thick boots, usually wearing a smile.
-Non-Constants- Ship: None Employ: None Common Location: None
-Neural Net Log-
Entry - Zero
Born and raised and live on Manhattan. That about sums me up. Born from parents who were never married, nor stayed together (despite trying, for my sake), I was raised by my mother and countless family and friends. In school I was bored, and had poor grades to show for it, never having the drive to surpass, or even meet expectations. Joined the working force as soon as I could, mostly for my money, but also for something new, to learn, to do, to experience. But, just as with school, I grew bored with my jobs and would move onto new ones, one after the other. It was when I was working at a Interspace Hotel that my interest was piqued.
A bounty hunter, one I had never heard of, who had landed on Manhattan to rest and relax for awhile, came into the hotel. At first, it was nothing special. "Want your best room", "Here is your key". But later, after she had come back and began asking me where all the attractions around here were, we got into a conversation, which led into us going to the hotel bar (we conversed to the end of my shift), which led into personal stories. This bounty hunter, Tayla Ray, had been collecting bounties and stashing cash for many years so that she could retire rich and young, good health being a bonus. Finally, she had reached her goal, after bringing in a bounty head large enough to retire on by itself. She was still trying to decide how exactly she was going spend her retirement, having never expected for it to begin so soon, but delighted beyond words that it was here nonetheless. My own story was without such a marvelous ending, being that it was working here, getting bored and deciding where to go next (meeting her being the highlight of the job). She understood me and where I was coming from better than I imagined she would. Turns out, she too had been severely bored with her life at one point, bringing her to do anything exciting to keep herself from dropping off into depression. After hearing stories of adventure from a bounty hunter herself, tales full of danger, adrenaline rushes, explosions, new worlds and new people, she decided that was the life for her. Next thing, she steals a ship (a modified fighter belonging to a local smuggler, perfect for stealing and disappearing with) and headed out to the complete unknown, ready to take on anything and everyone.
I was entranced by what she said, feeling the fire inside myself ignite, wanting, craving that excitement. But, then my damned mind began its thinking, weighing the pros and the cons, the "hows" and the "whys", and the fire began to die down, till it was almost gone. Tayla, either sensing this or knowing from experience what was happening to me, and inside me, slammed her fist onto the table hard enough to startle me free of my thoughts (and my seat almost). She asked, "Do you know what you want to do?". The answer was simple, "No." "Does becoming a bounty hunter sound like something you're capable of doing?", without hesitation, "Yes." "Well then, it's settled." I raised an eyebrow, "What is?" She just smiled and said, "When you are finally tired enough of this gig to quit it, give me a call. You already have all my contact info." and with that she got up, spent the credits to cover for her drinks (with all the money she now has, would have been too much for her to pay for my one drink also?), and went, presumably, to her room, leaving me wondering, my head full of questions, and no answers.
Except one. It was time to quit. The manager knew of my "disposition" on jobs when I was hired, and had even been informed some weeks ago about my growing disinterest in staying for much longer, so was not at all surprised or disappointed when I stated my immediate resignation. I was thanked for all my work, was given a generous payment that would more than cover what would have been owed to me on my last check, and wished the best of luck on whatever I chose to do next (I in turn replied, "Thank you, I will be needing it."). I decided to skip calling Tayla and instead go straight up to her room. After knocking a few times, I used my hotel key (forgot to turn it in) to open her door, I tiny shimmer of hope in the back of my mind that there would be a unclothed Tayla waiting on the other side (I have this thought every time I enter a female patron's room, can't help it), and not surprisingly there was not. In fact, there was no Tayla at all. When I presumed she went to her room, I was wrong. I then decided to print off her info from the Hotel's computer after all (along with turn in my key) and call her the very next day.
Next day becomes today, and before I get the chance to call Tayla, before I even get the chance to wake up, I get a call from Tayla herself. She had asked for my number at the hotel, just in case I did not call her myself. But upon getting my number (she told them something about having my number, but losing it), she also found out I had quit that night. I told her I quit, she said she already knew, and I guess she was expecting something like that, 'cause at the time I was checking her room, she was at a ship dealer, purchasing a dirt cheap, but very reliable ship. A ship, she said, was all payed for. And all mine. I was speechless, words simply not coming to mind, unable to even think. After she waited for what must have been long enough for her, she told me to come to the dealer and pick it up, it was under my name. This brought me back, the first word out of my mouth being, "But...". BUT nothing! The ship was mine to do with as I pleased. The cost of the ship not even making a dent in her fortune. She had one more thing to say, "You can do whatever, try whatever, be whoever, and go where ever you want as long as you're alive. Don't be afraid to go for something, do not over think it. Just remember that there is always a way out of something, somehow, so never let "being stuck" be a reason not to try something or to stay. You are the kind of person how will find their own way, and go their own way, no matter what. I'm not going to worry about you, I know you'll be more than fine, and I know you'll have fun.". And with that, the conversation was over. She disconnected, and I stood there, like a statue. Minutes must have passed before I came to my senses, hung up the phone, and left. There was little I needed, and even less people I needed to say good bye to. I managed to finish the last of my "farewells" as I reached the ship dealer. This was it. I did not know for sure what "it" was, exactly, but this was definitely it. I boarded the Starflier, "My" Starflier (christened immediately the Gray Knight, a tag I felt very happy with, and would keep with me forever, perhaps) and left Manhattan for the first time in my life.
I was instantly lost. Clueless on where to go or what to do. In short, I felt that I was completely %&$#ed. But that did not reduce the smile I had on my face, not even a bit.
<span style="color:#999999">"There are many ways this could go wrong. Let's try them all."</span>
-Neural Net Log-
Entry - One
What is the first thing you do with unlimited freedom for the first time? You abuse it. I flew around the space surrounding Manhattan for hours, getting the feel for the ship and flying (aided by the on board computers to the limit of their abilities, practically auto-pilot), then moving onto flying near and around traffic near the docking ring and stations. After I managed to not slam straight into a transport that had entered my erratic, unpredictable flight path, I felt confident enough to maneuver around in the nearby debris field. After another few hours, and more than a few dents and very close calls, I decided to call it quits a rest. That thought, along with any other thoughts, was quickly forced out of my head as soon as a laser shot seared into my port wing. Before I could begin to rationalize what just happen, a hail from a Liberty Rogue ship came to me, demanding I jettison all my cargo. Buttons...buttons...buttons...there! The scanner, which I had turned off due to all its useless beeps and "impact warning"s during my practice flights came to life, and showed two Rogues behind me. "Oh hell...". I was not moving, and neither were they. Turning my attention back to what they had told me, I was preparing to respond to them that I had no cargo (at least none worth jettisoning) when they hailed again, stating for me that I had no cargo. I guess they decided to scan me after they demanded what I had. Not the best way to do things, but I was hardly in a position to comment. Hoping they would leave me and move onto more profitable ventures (maybe even decide that this was not their calling in life and quite pirating all together), I sat there and waited. After a few minuted, I got my answer.
They opened fire. I maxed the accelerator and slammed down the thrust, moving left, right, up, down, any direction that did not have a beam occupying it. I did not even know where i was going, deeper into the field, I believed, but I had no time to check my coordinates, all I was doing was trying to put as much distance between me and them. To no avail. My thrust died, I slowed down, and they rapidly gained. This would be a perfect time to panic, but I think I knew what that would lead to. So I tried something else. I turned, and I went at them. The Starflier had been outfitted with twin laser turrets, but I had yet to play with them (I forced myself to hold back on them till I could fly), and now I was using them for real. I was firing, they were firing, and I was losing. I managed to hit them a few times, but their shield negated at all, where as mine, under twice as much fire and infinitely more skill, were drained to nothing in one pass. I was screwed. The thought of ejecting then and there seemed like a safe idea, despite the fact the ship will auto eject me if it senses the need (and it can do it in time), but my chances of being spared by the Rogues seemed unlikely to me. So, I decided to go down hard, shooting, and hopefully lucky. Only the later happened. A shot hit me, knocking out my weapons and my engines, rendering me helpless. They passed again, silent, no weapon fire, making a long arc back towards me, making me wait for what seemed an eternity for what I felt was inevitable. One Rogue broke off, started flying away, and the other kept coming straight towards me.
And was enveloped in a barrage of laser fire. Its shield last mere seconds before giving out, and the ship became nothing but an explosion and debris seconds after. Three Liberty Police ships flew past me, in pursuit of the one that fled. I was dumbfounded. Floating in space, pieces of what was, only moments ago, a Rogue ship pelting my own, I had nothing but time to reflect. Time passed, Nano Bots worked, and my ship became fully operational again. I docked at Fort Bush. After a little effort, I got word out to the three officers who, probably, saved my life. Their reply was something generic, a "You are welcome.", "Just doing our job.", "Be more careful in the future.". Their nonchalant attitudes woke something up inside of me. I may be in serious danger flying around wherever, but no one other then myself is going to take care of me. Those officers did not "care" about me, they were just doing their jobs, and happen to be around to help me. What was I back there? I was prey, I was able to defend myself (in theory), but I was the prey none the less. And the Rogues and Police? They were the hunter and the... hunter. One hunts prey (and occasionally other hunters), and the other hunts hunters (who may very well be hunting them at the same time). Of the three people in this scenario, I decided who I wanted to be. I had already been the prey, and the hunter for other hunters seemed... very difficult and hazardous. Which left the hunter of prey.
It was then, on that Police Base (of all the ironic places), that I decided to go "rogue", so to say. My first steps were to learn more, about piloting, fighting, exploring, everything. I hooked up with some trade convoys, under the identity of an escort, going to new places in all the systems, Kusari, Rheinland, Bretonia, and meeting new groups of people. One such group that I met drew my full interest. The Lane Hackers. I parted with my convoy and headed for Freeport 4, a place where I was told I could meet Lane Hackers. My first visit there payed off, I found who I was looking for, and after much time, talk, and drink, I... well, to skip to the point, I am now in the employ of the Lane Hackers.
Unless, or until, I move on to something new, someday.
<span style="color:#999999">"There are many ways this could go wrong. Let's try them all."</span>
Being a Lane Hacker is...interesting. I knew there were intelligent people, but I never would have imagined just how much so if I had not spent some time with them in person. There abilities with computers and knowledge of the Lane technologies goes beyond that of expert and crosses the line straight into just frightening. They can know anything, about anyone, anywhere, at just about anytime. Period. I knew from the start that my limited skills would be obsolete, but I never imagined I would be worthless. And their organization and precision, in my opinion it puts all the House government to shame, and any other group out there. But most of all, I enjoy how they live. It is a lifestyle and philosophy I could really get behind. Do what you want, have what you want, "if you can get it, you can have it". The things I could do without, though, would be the cardemine addicts (nearly everyone) and the number of threats out there. I have nothing against the Hackers who use, but I see the drug as completely unnecessary when they can do and have almost anything they want. But, that is nothing to me, the real issue is with the people who want the Hackers, me included, "dealt with". Bounty Hunters are my biggest concern (the irony of that is not lost on me) and the Police and Navies are a terrifying prospect, you can be sure.
I spend most of my time out on patrols, or assisting in raids on trade lanes (danger minimal, since the Hackers know exactly what to expect), fighting against the occasional defiant escort or trader. My skills in piloting are far beyond what they were when I left Manhattan, so much so that I can almost keep pace with even the best Hack (er I fly with. My computer skills on the other hand... well, they are more a thing to be pitied than laughed at. When I am off patrol and on a Hacker base, I try everything I can to improve my skills, even to the point of making deals with other Hackers to teach me. Few are willing, and even less care enough to keep working with me, abandoning me as a hopeless cause. I had one "teacher" who agreed to keep up with me, though. Maybe he liked the challenge, maybe he wanted to prove others wrong, or maybe it was because I got him drunk one evening and had him sign a binding contract to teach me, I do not know. What I do know, is he was the best teacher I have ever had. Well, he was, up until he got his ship blown to bits and he was taken in by Liberty Police. That opened my eyes to a few things; that the Lane Hacker lifestyle might not be the best for me, since I would much rather be on neutral terms with as many people as possible, stead of good and bad terms. I began thinking that a change was in order. Lucky enough for me, I was trusted enough (or more likely, I was not "un-trusted" enough) by the Lane Hackers above me that leaving would not be an issue. That, and the fact I did not know anything of real importance that could endanger them (and I certainly did not acquire enough skills technology wise to be a threat). So I was back to Freelancing.
For about two minutes.
My leaving was nothing secret, and I even made this common knowledge in the Mactan bar, in hopes of finding some new gig right away. Some Junkers I became acquainted with knew of my leaving, and offered suggestions on where to go, and even a deal on a ship trade-in so I would not identified by those who may feel I have wronged them in the past. I will miss my Sabre, a ship I worked...well, very little to get (the money a Lane Hacker can amount in a short time is outstanding), but I felt I will be just as happy and comfortable in my new CSV. My intentions were to head into New York (a thought that would have raised my heart rate only hours ago) and see what there was to be seen. But, as it turns out, things have already been started for me.
I must have made an impression on one of the Junkers I met, because she went ahead and contacted a man called Trillium, a top ranking, possibly even the toppest (that is now a word), Junker with the suggestion to consider me for the enlistment. Not long after I began my trip back into central Liberty that I received a message to meet Trillium at the Rochester base in New York. After a brief consideration, I decided to do it (my experience with Junkers has been a good one, and they have access to places and people that are difficult or impossible for Hackers). Once I arrived there, the daunting site that was Trillium's flagship greeted me, along with one of his officers. The conversation ended with my acceptance into the Junkers at the lowest rank (no surprise), and being assigned to the Kusari Junkers (under the command of someone named Xoria). My knowledge of Kusari space was nil, so after making Yanagi Depot my new home, I explored the system, doing the odd junker job here and there.
So far, it has been very enjoyable. Though not necessarily liked by everyone, I am hated by very few (the Bounty Hunter Guild still has it out for me, continuing the chain of irony), and what the Junkers lack in high tech and pleasures, it more than makes up for in freedom. I think I will be here a long time.
At least, that is how I feel now.
<span style="color:#999999">"There are many ways this could go wrong. Let's try them all."</span>
