[Date: 01/09/824 A.S.]
[Personal log of John Blackwell: #011]
[Title: Freeport 11...]
Recording.
Log number eleven. Log number eleven...
*The speaker takes a few deep breaths, and then there is silence before he begins. He is clearly shaken.*
January ninth, eight twenty four A.S.... Freeport 11 was destroyed by The Core.
They took a bomb to the station, and assaulted the Zoner forces there. I came to help... But it was a bit to late. I saw the station detonate as I arrived at Omicron Delta.
I rushed to join the fleet and help. A little late, but at least we could save some wounded.
The core stopped attacking when Nomads showed up, and... I don't know. It was chaos- I did the best I could to help the others.
I fought along side the legendary Arcadia. We had hope. But then... These massive nomads showed up. We couldn't fight them off. I was finally shot to pieces- The Kitfox's engines were torn to pieces, and I was drifting. Gladly someone towed me away, and back to Omega 55. I'm having the Kitfox repaired as swiftly as possible. I'm going back to Omicron Delta to help anyone left there...
The nomads... They attacked in... Opportunity? The Core weakened us all, and because of them we were vulnerable. The nomads were just doing what their instincts told them.
As if that day couldn't get worse...
I'd never seen the massive Nomads before... They tore through the fleet. Arcadia had to jump out of the system. Anyone who didn't run was shot down.
I was one of the lucky few who got out.
I can't stay in this base any longer. I have to get back to my ship. There has to be something else that can be done.
[Date: 01/13/824 A.S.]
[Personal log of John Blackwell: #012]
[Title: War.]
Recording.
Ah... Alright.
Things have been going- Good I guess. As good as can be.
Shipments to Corinth are coming in with good speed, but we need to be doing more to get this job done soon enough.
I've been flying the KF and escorting people back and forth. Had a few dangerous encounters, but all in all it's all going well enough. I'm sitting here at Ames now, resting a while.
The Core has been pushing on Omicron Kappa hard. They had the system locked down for a time. It seems this isn't going to end peacefully.
It's not the most pleasant situation... But at least we're doing what we can.
Umm- Also of note...
I was flying the old Foxdust, hauling to Corinth, when I met this guy in a big ship. He was an Auxesian agent of some sort- Quite an interesting fellow. He agreed to escort me. He seemed reasonable- Supported the Zoners in our plight, here.
Along the way, we had quite the interesting conversation. He knew more about the Nomads than I did, and we discussed what was known- And what was all theory. It was quite enlightening- And for once, it was nice to meet someone with a less... Brutish opinion. What he said confirmed my theories- Humanity has most likely encroached on their territory, and they are only fighting to protect their home. Wherever that may be.
We'll see what tomorrow brings.
Tomorrow, we go to fight back. For better, or for worse, I must do what I can, when the time comes.
April of 824. Today, we turn our eyes to this mister Blackwell.
Reading his logs, his journeys are clear, but not quite where they are taking him.
As the conflict in the omicrons died down to a less than climatic ending, his life returned very much to normal, in a sense. His daily life stopped being that of what he believed to be a soldier, fighting for the innocent, and returned to that of smuggling and evading the law. That feeling of fighting for a cause had faded almost as quickly as it had taken him.
Of course his trouble making would catch up to him eventually.
Liberty space is no friendly place for a smuggler, and that was a reality he'd been discovering. He was losing more than he was gaining, and before he knew it he was very, very poor. He had too little to invest, and was only able to afford supplies enough to keep himself on the edge of starvation.
When he could afford them, often with stolen credits, his deals became less and less within his better judgement. He began to forget his principles and his methods became worse and worse, often consisting of cardamine shipments.
Then one day he made a mistake. Venturing into liberty space with a full cargo of one of the most contraband substances in the galaxy, and being less than careful.
The liberty police didn't take kindly to his presence, and he was at the mercy of a less than kind ace, who had recognized our unlawful pilot from a past bounty.
A few moments gone wrong, a moment's too long hesitation, and that was the end of any kindness being shown to our smuggler. He tried to evade, but his freighter was no match for a liberty combat ship, and he was being torn apart.
And then came savior. A deus ex machina, so to speak.
As the armor of his ship was being shredded like cheese, a pilot of the Liberty Navy happened upon them, and decided to take pity on the young man.
The assailing officer was ordered to stand down, and the Naval fighter escorted John to a safe area. Assuming the worst, Blackwell followed along, seeing as he was at least being given a moment to rest before his imprisonment.
But, this was not the case. He was given a choice.
The man from Liberty persuaded him, telling him what he already knew- His path was taking him on a journey to nowhere but a cruel, inevitable end. He offered that he join them, and fight for a cause.
But he was too shaken to make a choice, and did all he'd been doing for so long. He ran, his parting promise being that he would consider what he had been told.
And so he now stands in the fringes of space again, in his home, considering his options, entirely uncertain of his next move beyond survival.
For now he chooses to lie, cheat and steal, and survive in the kindest way he can try, as always.
His choices, soon, will shape his future, and his journey may at last be taking him to an intended destination.