**OCC** There are some things you may wish to read before reading this.
If you want to know more about my characters (and of course, you do), you can click here.
Also referred in this article is the supposed death of my main character, Eiyuu Yamato (who will return), which you can read here.
This is an introduction to my newest character, a trader who flies a ship known as the Monarch. I tried to add some subtle humour for your amusement. Comments and critique is welcome, as always :)
NOTE: I will add some pictures soon (will probably be ripped from Hellsing) and maybe an mp3 or two... all that text looks daunting, I know, but I promise it will be worth your time.
NOTE #2: Okay, fine I admit it. William Earnshaw Jr. is a direct ripoff of Pip Bernadotte but whatever.
*****
Space. The deep, dark ocean that has been present since the foundation of the cosmos. It is cold and empty, lonely and desolate, but once in a while, a disturbance livens the otherwise dreary skyscape. With a sudden whoosh, a metallic artificial object, shaped like a figure 8, comes to life, lights blinking as a electric effect intensifies in the center of one of the two loops. Out of the ring emerges a black ship, which while worn and weathered, is still sleek, gliding through the silent expanses of space.
Silhouetted against the planet Leeds, which was then glowing a luminescent but polluted yellow colour, the ship, quite obviously a freighter, drifted along an unguided trajectory as its crew plotted the next leg of the course needed to transport their precious hold of cargo. Although the ship appeared innocent enough, it carried an assortment of weaponry that would deter even a cruiser. Within its holds were a variety of goods from the mundane to the not so common, including military grade ammunitions among others sealed within nondescript steel barrels.
The ship suddenly turned upwards and boosted its engines with a soft groan, towards the next trade lane in a series that would lead out of Bretonia towards the vice-ridden planets of Liberty. Slowly, the small freighter positioned itself horizontal to the trade lanes entry point and with whoosh just as sudden as its last, the ship vanished, propelled through the navigation network at incredible speeds.
How much further before the next outpost? asked a man with an eyepatch, tucked neatly beneath his long locks and a pinned-up cowboy hat.
4.6 kilometers, Capn, replied a stout fellow, sitting in the pilots seat, gazing fixedly at the navigation viewscreen. 3.2 kilometers, 2.9 kilometers what the hell?
The ship had lurched suddenly and fell out of the paths between the lanes. Looking up through the cockpit, the Captain saw that the nearest trade lane had been disrupted, its repair droids working mindlessly to repair the problem. The Captain quickly scanned the area with his one good eye, searching for the pirates who were no doubt planning to ambush his ship. In the corner of his eye, he saw them: three Wolfhound heavy fighters with their hulls painted to Molly colours. Once they were in range, the Mollys assumed a delta formation and opened fire, their guns blazing in a hail of deadly plasma.
Despite the violent shaking of their freighter as the shots impacted the freighters shields, the Captain calmly cracked his knuckles and took a seat beside his pilot, pulling a cigar out of his shirt pocket. Jenson, the pilot, seemed equally indifferent.
Jenson, would you please tell Blake and Sergei to hurry their asses up and man their guns?
Ya, sir. Jamie has just got to the engine room and shes preppin it fer evasive maneuvers.
Pulling a radio commset off the dashboard, the Captain clicked the receiver and said with an almost bored tone, Men and lovely lady, lets send this bastards to hell. Fire at will. He chuckled to himself, knowing that Jamie would have thrown a tantrum or something of the sort if he hadnt added the lady part. She was sensitive like that.
The turrets on the freighter flared to life, raining a stream of destruction against the fighters, while at the same time evading most of the enemy fire. The Mollies had not anticipated such a well-armed adversary, or such a maneuverable one for that matter, and immediately signaled to each other to retreat, wiggling the wings of their fighters. They werent fast enough. In a mechanical fashion, the freighters turrets erupted violently against the hulls of the fighters, depleting the shields and punching holes in the layered hull plating to devastating effect.
Within minutes, the hunters-turned-hunted were finished, having been reduced a scraps of metal. The freighter resumed its original course, tractoring up any valuable materiel in the vicinity. Sometimes a rear turret opened fire on nearby scraps, vaporizing the pieces into dust. Stop wasting our ammo, Blake, the Captain thought to himself as he cut off the tip of the cigar and lit it.
*****
The freighter cruised along, leaving fiery trails in its path. Specks of space dust from mining operations in area tapped gently against the cockpit, limited visibility.
Picking up a receiver, Jenson clicked the frequency regulator and spoke in his thick, Scottish accent, Sir, we have arrived in the Magellan system. Are we to dock at Mactan Base?
The receiver chirped back the captains reply, Go ahead. We need to make some repairs and buy some things. Maybe get some more cardamine. I hear Manhattan is desperate for some of that right now. Plus, I need to go discuss some matters with a friend of mine.
Aye, sir. Jenson muttered in reply, before clicking off the receiver and sending an encoded dock request to Mactan.
A rather drab looking docking robot appeared on the central viewscreen and said its monotonous voice, Freelancer Outfit 102, you are cleared to dock. Proceed to dock A3 and enjoy your stay.
Thanks, lad, replied Jenson, who was always polite to the droids even though he knew they were programmed to be courteous. He didnt like the idea of being assaulted by machines with weapons upon landing. Robots were stupid, and Jenson wasnt sure if they possessed enough AI to differentiate between friend and foe.
Reclining slightly into the faded, but still comfy, leather pilots seat, Jenson set the ship to an autodock sequence and closed his eyes, looking to get a bit of rest from the long hours of piloting. Just as he began to escape wakefulness, the sound of the proximity klaxon blared to life, as several explosions detonated near the port side of the ship.
What in the name of Eris is going on, Jenson? shouted the Captain, into his headset, as he rushed up from the lower level of the ship, accompanied by Sergei.
Scanning the numerous screens lying side by side with professional efficiency, Jenson reported back onto a ship-wide broadcast frequency. Sir, it looks like a Liberty battleship patrol group, Jenson said in unmasked surprise. Arent they a wee bit early? I thought patrols only come by every five hours.
We can figure that out later. Right now they are engaging the nearby Lane Hackers. How far are we to Mactan?
Before Jenson could respond, a loud, threatening voice took over the intercom, pronouncing, This is the Liberty Battleship LNS Chiropteran. Identify yourselves at once. You are in gross violation of Universal Sirius regulations concerning the mandatory installation of an identification transponder on all ships.
The Captain, who had just burst into the pilot cabin, froze when he heard that. The surprise soon turned into puzzlement. Jenson, why dont we have an identification transponder?
Thats cause you sold it, sir, interjected Sergei, in a sort of uninterested tone of voice. Last week, at Perth Station in Edinburgh. You wanted to buy some cardamine.
Well, then why did u let me sell it? asked the Captain, blushing when he realized that he had in fact sold their only transponder in order to purchase the drug. Youre supposed to stop me from doing stupid stuff like that. Thats what I pay you for.
Sergei, leaned up against the wall and crossed his arms, flexing his large muscular biceps. No, sir, actually what you pay me for is to beat up people.
Before the Captain could respond to this latest challenge, the intercom buzzed again so loudly that everyone cringed. This is the LNS Chiropteran. Unknown ship, identify yourself at once. If you do not comply, we will open fire.
Frantically, Jenson scanned the numerous screens in his usual meticulous fashion, identifying key parts of the ship, weapons systems, and cruise engines. What should we do, sir?
A grin slid across the captains face. He always loved a good chase. Well men, as much as I love to meet people, Im not sure it would be wise to let them yellowbellies know who we really are, especially if they scan us and find our cargo.
Surely enough, the intercom screeched again, the voice as hostile as ever. Unidentified ship, we have detected the presence of cardamine, government property, and navy pilots aboard your ship. Submit yourselves to our tractor beam at once or be eliminated.
But by then, the freighter was already off, cruising away at max speed towards Mactan, which shrieking back Slow your engines and reduce speed during dock sequence. The captain knew that even the battleship patrol didnt have the firepower to take on the Lane Hackers at their home base.
You think you can land this thing? inquired the Captain, eyeing worriedly at the screen reporting rapidly depleting shields. The entire ship rocked from the fire of the Liberty Task Force.
Jenson didnt reply. He was too absorbed in flying the little freighter, which no matter how he maneuvered, did not seem able to avoid the weaponry of the Liberty ships. Jensons face had a distant look, his pupils dilated, and to the casual observer, it would have appeared that the pilot had just passed out. But this expression actually gave solace to the captain as the craft lurched violently from side to side. Jenson was concentrating. They would land safely. It was times like these that they captain remembered why he hired Jenson. Jenson, the wonder pilot.
A sudden explosion sent the captain tumbling to the ground on top of Sergei, who bore the brunt of the fall. The ship had begun to roll on its side, careening dangerously. They had been struck my a salvo of missiles. Dragging himself slowly towards the nearest commset, the Captain grabbed ahold of it and shouted to Blake to figure out what had happened. It took him several seconds to realize that shields had failed and as a result intership communications had been damaged.
Just as pulled himself onto a chair and prepared to strap himself in, the ship did another bellyroll and the captain found himself pinned to the ceiling.
BLOODY HELL! he yelled. And he couldnt be more correct.
A fighter wing suddenly loomed before them, and the captain stared into the face of death. Time seemed to slow and somehow the captain was acutely aware of everything going around him. Sergei was lay crumpled on the floor, or was it the ceiling? Jenson was strapped securely into his chair, but his face and the controls were a bloody mess. Looking back at the door, which had broken loose and swung open, the captain thought he saw fire. Then he realized that it was a puddle of blood. A pylon that had broken from the wall when the ship was struck had impaled him.
Delirious, the captain looked out of the cockpit. He saw the faces of the Liberty Navy pilots, emotionless, as they prepared to open fire. So this is the end, he thought. The end.
But it wasnt the end. For no apparent reason, the enemy fighter wing had simply vanished. But they couldnt have just vanished without a trace. Was he imagining things? Too much blood loss?
Suddenly, Mactan Base loomed before the ship, and with an explosion, the freighter smashed into one of the docking bays, sliding against the floor. Sparks flew from the metal grinding against metal as the ship dug long rivets into the polished floor of the dock. Finally, the mangled heap came to a halt as it bumped against the end of the bay. The pursuers were no where to be seen.
*****
The captain awoke in a small and hard bed, strapped up to a system monitoring his vitals and an IV tube. Am I dead?, he thought. No, it cant be. It looks to much like a sickbay.
Turning to his right, the captain saw a familiar face. Sergei lay on the adjacent bed, attached to even more tubes than he. Sergei had received countless injuries throughout his body, but by the looks of the bandaging, he would survive.
Captain!, a female voice shouted.
Jamie, winced the captain as he sat up. Looking down, he saw that his abdomen was bandaged as well. Are you alright?, he asked and she nodded. Jenson came in the room, looking grim. The ship!, the captain though. My ship!
The two men looked at each other, and the captain knew. His beloved Prometheus was finished. The ship that he had inherited from his father after his father went missing in action. The ship that he learned to fly in. The ship that his mother had built.
Im sorry, sir, Jenson quietly said, rubbing this bandaged forehead.
Its alright, was all the captain could say. He was too overwhelmed with emotions. You got us out alive, and thats what matters.
*****
Five days later, the captain walked into the shipyard at Mactan Base. He wasnt supposed to be out for another week, but he just couldnt stand the idea of being confined to a hospital bed. He wasnt fond of the smell of medicine and ointments and to make it worse, the nurses werent even attractive.
Knocking politely at the central office, the captain politely asked an apprentice worker for a shipbuilder named Yusuke Yamato. The boy responded that he did not know of such a person and referred the captain to his mentor, an elderly man who looked couldnt look any seedier.
The old man eyed the captain suspiciously for a little while, before asking, who did you say you were, again?
My name is William Earnshaw Jr., responded the captain impatiently.
The old man stared again, before finally handing Earnshaw a letter. Would you like to buy a ship? chirped the old man, suddenly friendly.
No thanks, replied Earnshaw absentmindedly to which the old man gave an obscene gesture.
Quote:Will,
I left Mactan because something is happening in Kusari. Something that goes deeper than any of us.
I am going to find out the rest of the truth.
I cant stay here. They are coming for me because I already know too much.
My brother, Eiyuu, of the Yakuza clan can help me.
Stay out of this, its too dangerous.
Take care,
Yusuke Yamato
Something was wrong, and Earnshaw knew. Hadnt it just been reported in the news that the Yakuza Admiral, Eiyuu Yamato, was killed in the Honshu system? Earnshaw needed to get to Kusari space and find his friend fast before anyone else did.
Excuse me sir, said Earnshaw, confronting the old man who was now obviously snubbing him. Id like to buy your ship. What do you have to offer me?
Returning with a Vengeance June 2007 Sirius Universal Time.
We are coming.
Characters:
BDBC-Yamato - Talarca Light Battlecruiser
BDBS-Musashi - Kusari Heavy Battleship (to be stolen)
BDF-Shinano - Blood Dragon Fighter *
FL-Monarch (to be commissioned) **
</span> The 大和, Battlecruiser Yamato, is Admiral Yamato's personal yacht and primary combat ship.
<span style='font-size:10pt;line-height:100%'> The 武蔵, Battleship Musashi, is Admiral Yamato's command center and mobile base of operations for his personal fleet. * The 信濃, Fighter Shinano, is Admiral Yamato's personal fighter and reconnaisance ship, used for backup purposes. ** The Monarch is a freelance freighter captained by Bretonian Navy veteran, William Earnshaw Jr.
