An icy haze drifted indolently across the barren landscape of a distant visage. Dark earthy outcroppings littered the hellish wasteland of shivering cold, creating the illusion of relative emptiness.
Looks were deceiving.
Elusively evident across the surface, small quasi-industrial facilities and landing sites could be found visible in scattered arrangement. Like tiny insects, figures moved efficiently across the areas, carting delicate supplies and equipment to and from site to site. Something was going on.
Something big.
The planet was Toledo. Unknown to most, it housed the so-called terrorist organization known only as The Order. An organization sworn to protect Sirius; or so they said. The young man walking casually across the busy docking pad didnt care, either way. He was there a purpose. A purpose suited to himself, no one else. Whether these people were terrorists or not didnt matter to him. He wasnt one to involve himself in such trifling things as politics.
The man was tall, around six-foot, with dull black hair and blazing green eyes. His garb was varied; with definitive Kusarian elements clearly mixed with random other touches. Small adornments were visible along his silhouette; badges, insignias, patches. No real markings of rank were visible, the trinkets appeared to hold nothing more than sentiment. His look was aloof, but anything but cold. The dimples making home against his cheeks gave away the fact that a smirk was not a rare thing, and one made its presence known quickly.
Hey, just the man Im looking for! The stranger called out warmly to someone over the white noise of unremitting motion.
An irritated grunt sounded as the man in question faltered midway through lifting a weighty metal crate, nearly letting it drop to his feet. What the hell? He cursed back at the unknown human. You tryin to get me in the infirmary again- His wall of hostility shattered as he spun around on his heel. Hasting! You lousy dog! When did you drift up?
The now identified man gave him a friendly pat on one of his broad shoulders, Just now, mate. Though it took ages to finally get clearance to dock! You blokes run a tight ship here, dont ya? He finished conversationally, taking a quick gander around the hectic scene.
That we do. Somethin big going down, old friend. Something real big. His tone turned down a few notches. Well, bigger than usual anyway. The Orders always got something on its plate.
Hastings brow arched fractionally. Aye? What would that be?
The older man sighed in a mix of fatigue and resignation, Wish I could give you the details, but the brass would have my ass for letting my mouth get ahead of me. Suffice to say, theres a reason were so busy right now. We need hardware, and we need it now. The order for combat-worthy vessels has us running around like fire ants.
A scruffy five-o-clock shadow washed across the middle aged males wide jaw line. Damp from sweat, short and straight locks of graying brown hair found their way down over his lightly tanned and pockmarked forehead. Howard Crowkey; the leading machinist for The Orders heavy fighter assembly line, and formerly, the holder of a similar appointment in the Gas Miners Guild. It was that fact that was the very reason Orin was on Toledo in the first place.
The relationship with the mining monopoly all started years ago. Orin didnt have a credit to his name, and was in a hole if there ever was one. Thats when Vahl came in. The old executive took him in, gave him a job, and a hell of a lot more. It was during those years that the bonds that would create the foundation of his life now were formed.
The life of a Freelancer.
It wasnt a very well thought out decision, Orin reckoned, but it was one he made nonetheless. He had been a part of a group before. It didnt end well. The GMG were his family, the only one he had, but that wasnt enough. His first one couldnt say much, and his second wouldnt think twice over blowing his brains out. It was time to move on, while a good thing was just that. A good thing.
The change was exciting. Traversing the wonders of Sirius. Orin didnt have a fortune to do as he liked, so he settled for what he could enjoy. The best things in life are free, aye? The guild didnt care for his decision to leave, but there wasnt much they could do about it. No love was lost, they still hired him to fly escort, train their pilots, and kick some of the newbies into shape. Not a bad deal, really. Freedom and a bit of solid ground. A place to come back to and kick back with old friends. A shame one of them had to go so soon.
Griff Vahl. Miner extraordinaire, and all around good guy. A father figure if Orin ever had one, he turned him from a confused kid to a seasoned young man. The news that he kicked the bucket didnt come as a surprise to the Freelancer, but that didnt do much to numb the pain. Relationships of any kind ended in pain. Orin had etched that into his skull for a long time. The creed still rang clear. Vahl was his workmate, his boss, but most importantly, his friend. No matter how hard he tried to kill that heartstring strapped to his chest, it just wouldnt work. Youll always have emotion for someone in some way. No way around it, only over it.
The will came as a smidge of a shock. Orin knew Vahl didnt have any living family, but he didnt expect the accomplished old mans entire fortune to go to him. It didnt kill the pain, but it helped. More money meant less trouble. Orin didnt like trouble, but he didnt like sitting around either. Thats what brought him to the frozen planet.
Hey, I heard about Vahl. Damn fool, I cant believe he still insisted on riding shotgun on those blasted Crow runs. Bloody old man had a death wish if Id ever seen one! Howard smirked nostalgically. Shame he had to get himself killed. I always had a soft spot for the old bastard.
Orin nodded with a hint of graveness. Same here. Wish I could have given him one last kick in the shin, aye?
The older male laughed heartily, Always were a troublemaker, Hasting. He took a lazy breath of the cold air. Speaking of which, its about time we got down to business. Aint it?
His short black hair bounced vaguely as he nodded in agreement. Vahls fortune is burning a whole in my pocket, and this bloody ship o mines been getting me into more trouble than I expected.
Crowkey arched his neck back as he peered over to the landing area behind Orin. Looking as vicious and aggressive as any fighter could, a heavily armed Sabre floated weightlessly above the dura-steel flooring.
Cant imagine wanting to ditch a ship like that, friend. What kind of crazy **** you getting into to want to swap it out?
Hasting sighed wearily as he turned around to give the vessel another gaze. Liberty is a mess. The damn ship is a Border Worlds development, but I still got chewed out by some self-righteous naval jackass last week for flying it in house airspace. Barely talked my way out of an official interrogation in a shiny Dreadnought holding cell.
His brow creased noticeably. What the hell you talking about? What kind of jurisdiction that guy holding over you? How does he get off telling you not to fly a ship known to be used by Freelancers?
I got the thing off a Junker in Yanagi. Was a refurbished Hessian strike craft. The good Commander didnt like that. Thought I might be bloody Rheinland spy. You believe that? Orin shook his head, Anyways, he finally backed off after I threatened to appeal to Naval command. The guy was a paranoid coward in my opinion. Course, I suppose Liberty brass in general are getting that way real fast as a whole. He firmed his lips for a second, collecting his thoughts back together, and looked to the man in front of him again. Thats why Im trying for this. Im finished with tip-toeing around Liberty. Its a damn lost cause. If theyre gonna kick me out for flying a neutral vessel, theyre gonna kick me out for flying one of yours as well. Why not fly whatever I damn please?
Howard gave him a gruff smile, Now youre talking. Let me get a few things straight though, alright? He adopted a serious look. The Order is strapped for resources right now. Thats why this deal even has a glimmer of getting off the ground. Were building ships faster than we can get pilots to fly them. We dont hand out advanced assault craft to just anybody. Im doing you a big favor here, Orin. Were going to have to iron out a few things before I plant the launch codes in one of your many pockets.
Im listening, mate. Dont worry. He nodded, keeping an understanding look about his face.
Good. First things first, this ship is going to cost a hell of a lot more than what you stole that one for. Course, its also going to fly a lot better too. No hammering out faulty power couplings and comm errors in this puppy. Ive put a lot of blood sweat and tears into this ship, as have the numerous developers involved. Its a blasted science project, and its going to fly like a dream.
Orin almost laughed. You going to tell me what I have to do or not, Howie? You better not be just leading me along to say no.
The man chuckled, No, of course not. Okay, Ive gone through the proper channels and I have you cleared to fly out of here with the Nephthys fully equipped and loaded. But- He enunciated his last word above the rest. Youre going to have to do The Order a few favors, got it? You know, beat some flight knowledge into some of the wet behind the ears scrubs and such. You can fly like a madman, old friend. Vahls magic touch rubbed off on you. Your expertise will be a big help to our cause.
The younger fellow nodded along attentively as the machinist explained the situation. Shoulda known you were just trying to get me to whip some recruits into shape! He sniggered jokingly. Nah, thats all good, mate. When do I start?
OOC: Explaining why Orin flies what he does. I didn't write this for an excuse, I've had this scenario in my head for years, I just never put it in writing until now. Enjoy.