Chapter 07 - Pavel

“Pavel .. this is Privateer Constellation Reaper, we know you are in there” the voice over the local flight channel insisted.  What the earth dirt do these guys want?  I thought as I keyed the mic to answer.  “Yeah I’m here, a little busy at the moment.” I responded looking at the bench crowded with a disarray of devices in need of reassembly.  “Pavel you have to give us clearance to land.” The impatient voice responded.  “OK let me get a couple things battened down here.” I replied.  Craps sake scrumming pirates are always edgy.  I walked over to the gantry controls and started the opening sequence for the middle bay of the hanger. 

As the Constellation settled on its skids I saw a guy I hadn’t seen in years stand up from the Captains seat and move aft.  What the hell is he doing here?  I haven’t done business with these guys since they wholesale blew out of Spider.
  
By the time the ships elevator had touched ground I was within speaking distance of the ship.  “So, Tracker what are you up to slumming in this neck of the galaxy?”  I said raising my hand in greeting.  “I thought I was square with Nadine.”  I added thinking back to the last conversation I had with Commodore Nadine, then I noticed the haggard look and his disheveled appearance.  “Not here about trade Pavel.” The Major motioned to the big guy standing at his side for the small bundle he was carrying.  The Major took a few steps forward and presented it to me.

“What’s this?”  I queried.  “Last Will docs are on the top.”  The Major said tersely.  “Huh?” I asked frowning.  “Lisbeth, Pavel .. I’m .. I’m sorry for your loss.” He stammered.  Not like the ever efficient Major Mitchel “Tracker” Wayland to get choked up.  I looked at the parcel and back to the Major.  “Lisbeth, huh?  What?  She choke on a stim or shove too much shit in her arm?” I asked.  The big guy beside Mitch took a step forward with a look that didn’t look too promising from my side.  I leaned back a bit and put a hand up but Tracker beat me to it. “Stow it Riggs.” He said calmly placing his hand on the Mercs chest.  “Your sister was clean Pavel, had been for over a year before ..” he added nearly whispering the last few words.  “Yeah, she was sharp as a razor and could fly the ass off any thing she sat in.  I worked with her she was good people an’ she had more balls than a squad of Jar Heads.”  The big man named Riggs added.

I flipped open the container skipping past the documents.  Ok, so she left me all her stuff.  In the box were her dog tags from her stint in the UEE Marines, a hand gun and several magazines which I assumed was her service piece, a necklace and small locket, a holo coded for mobi transfer, an ancient looking piece of paper and two Slam vials.  From what I understood it was customary to present the beneficiary with all the items the deceased person had on them at the time of death, if possible.

I held up the two vials clinking them between my fingers and said “Yeah right.”  The next thing I know there is a huge hand at my throat and I’m nearly lifted off the ground.  With his free hand Riggs took the Slam vials from me and shoved me back a half meter or so.  “These are mine” the big guy said as he shoved me backwards.  “Scrumming hell man” I said rubbing my neck.  Riggs swiped his hand across the pouch at his hip and stowed the Slam vials.  “I gave the chems to the Cap’ on our last mission.  Just in case, an’ she coulda used them, she coulda but she din’t.  An’ she still pulled his ass out of the fire.”  Riggs said his hand pointing at Tracker.

I looked at the Major and he nodded affirmative.  “Man .. what the heck happened anyways?” I asked as sincerely as I could while ignoring the desire to continue rubbing my neck.  Tracker and Riggs told me the whole story about the Stealth ship and his rescue.  I was taken aback by their descriptions of her abilities and willingness to stick herself in the middle of the situations they described.  The dialog from these two made me feel like tweaking ship modules was a life best fitted for a scrumming thorshu crab.

I nodded and they stood there for a full minute while I shook my head wondering where the heck my little sisters head had been since I last saw her.  Finally Tracker spoke and said “The rest of the property is located in a hanger near the Briarpatch.  When you decide to claim the rest of the gear, take this with you.  You will want to light it up to activate the beacon before entering the field.”  I took the standard looking comm slice from him.  “One last thing Pavel ..”  Tracker said as he opened his mobi-glass.  I walked over to my work bench and laid the comm slice down.  Turning my attention away from the bench I watched the Major as he manipulated his glass.  “.. this is what I offered the holding cell Sergeant and the Med Tech to slip me off station in a container.”  A couple swipes across the screen and he closed the device.  “It should have gone to Lisbeth and the Mercs that pried me out.  The Mercs declined.”  He added nodding in the direction of Riggs.

My glass flashed and I opened it to find a new entry, looking twice to make sure I found that my cred balance nearly tripled.  “Holy Messersballs.. you sure about this?”  I looked from the Major to the Merc.  The Merc spoke up first saying “Yeah, real sure, Molise is too.  We both tol’ her we had her back. We din’t.”  The big man had a pained look on his face.  I’m certain a lessor man would have tried to hold back the tear that flowed down his pock marked cheek.

Then they were gone.

My bench now seemed to be of lessor importance than it had been a short 30 minutes ago.  I turned my back on the bench and went to my bunk.  After a few shots of Terran rum I walked back to the maintenance area of my hanger and sat down at the bench.  The rum bottle came with me and was sitting on top of the comm slice Tracker had given me.  I sat for several minutes staring at the box they had brought.  I pulled the box closer and opened it pulling out the documents. 

The top sheet was the standard Space Farers Next of Kin doc registered with the Advocacy.  All stamped and official, generic looking.  The line below Lisbeth’s signature titled Beneficiary was filled in with my name, Pavel Lorenz Lander and the ID I was assigned at my birth.  The date on the doc was a little over six years ago.  I thought about the date some and decided it was around the time Lisbeth had been accepted in Marine Flight School.  She always was a decent pilot, a little scary at times but solid.  I reminisced about our fantasy as kids of becoming Murray Cup racers for a few seconds then flipped to the next page.
  
Military documents from her old squadron showing her progress through the military pipeline.  This short stack of documents included a list of dates and promotions, a couple infield commendations, one short paragraph on the disciplinary notes page and her discharge papers as Marine Captain Lisbeth Lander formerly team member call sign ‘Wasp’ in the Angels of Peace interdiction squad attached to Squadron 42.

The property docs read like a manifest.  Stating Lisbeth’s property in a short list:

• Hanger; location encrypted
• Personal affects
• Weapons
• Munitions
• Various Transports

Every one of the headings had a concise list with the exception of the last entry ‘Various Transports’.  This entry was just one line.  It listed a very redundant ‘Various’.

OK Sis what the heck have you done with yourself all these years.  I moved the rum bottle pouring another healthy 3 or so fingers of rum into my cup and picked up the comm slice Tracker had given me.  Weighing it in my hand I didn’t see any obvious tampering.  Exceptional work this, no signs of ever being used or even inserted into a reader.  There are always tell tale marks, this one was pristine.

OK .. I scratched my head, took another swig of rum and said aloud, “So, Sis, where is your hanger?”

I looked at the little holo device rolling it in my fingers.  I sat it down on the bench and touched the contact.  A small maybe 10 centimeter image of Lis’s face rose above the device and turned to look at me.  “Pavel?” it asked.  I sat there for a few minutes looking at her image and then I replied, “Yeah Lis it is me ..”  A male voice from the base of the device said “Confirmed Pavel Lorenz Lander”.  

“Good it is you.“ Her image smiled brightly looking young and fresh faced.  “So” <short pause flickering her clothing is different> and the image resumed its animation “..if you are looking at this I’m likely dead or missing. Lemme tell you I find this difficult to do.  Especially for you fart face.” Her image giggled for a couple seconds. Then there was another pause.  The image reconstructed and she looked at me, her arc light blue eyes boring straight into me.  The pass code to the mobi-transfer holo is “Pavel”.  Then her image faded to a look that I had never seen on her face in all of the 22 years I was near her. It wasn’t loathing as she usually came at me with but something different. Not exactly fear or trepidation or the unknown but something else.  

I felt the tears roll down my cheek.  I grabbed the rum bottle and took a healthy pull from it.  “OK where is your hanger?”  I asked the holo.  “Here” she said.  And the holo resolved into a star map of the Briarpatch.  “You have the comm slice” her image said.  “I’ve had this death trap for like 5 years now.” Her image told me.  “I have collected a lot of junk Pavel.  Please look at this as the investment I do .. er did ..” the image changed again.  She was maybe a couple years older and I saw the chain of her dog tags clearly. “Pavel make this stuff work.  I honestly don’t know how but I know you will figure it out.”  I thought she was talking about the situation I found myself in but her image changed again.  “Pavel all the crap in my hanger has value.”  “Wait” she said turning her head. Her hand moved to close the connection then immediately it reappeared.  “Pavel you always wanted a fast ship.  Me too, I really wanted to go places deep in the unknown. <pause> I have one.  It is broken badly.  Actually really badly but I know if anyone can make it right you can.”  <Another pause> “Pavel if you don’t fix any of the junk I have in my hanger other than the Herald fix that one.”  Her image flashed again and I sat there sucking on the nearly empty rum bottle. 

Then I watched as her hand rotated the holo to take in the Herald.  It was battered.  None of the external data modules were present and one of the massive engines was missing.  “Pavel .. I chased this thing across 8 jumps and I killed it.”  She sighed deeply and turned the holo back to her face.  “Fix it, make it better.” her face was solemn.  “Pavel .. I have a mission to do that I know is death.  I saw it.  That is why you are seeing this.  Obviously, I was right.  The only thing I can think that might save you from following me to Messer’s own hell is this. Do not trust Nadine. Like the bit-crunching guys say .. end of line.”  The male voice from the base of the device said, “Save, Delete or Continue”.

I looked at the holo cube.  The images were gone now, the bottle of rum empty.  “Save”.

Chapter 06 - Rescue

I raised my eyes from the terminal to the Merc’s face and said, “What do you mean he isn’t here?” He slid his fingers across the large screen with a delicate touch that seemed so out of place on such a large brutal looking individual.  “No Ma’am, he isn’t here according to the active data stream.”  He sighed as he closed the connection.  “One more thing I can try .. but damn ..”  he added.  “But damn what .. what does that mean?” I asked getting a little edgy from being exposed like this hanging out the long corridor for almost 4 minutes now.  “Gimme a sec Cap .. checking transfers, deaths, missing .. e t c” The Merc had a frown on his face as his fingers poked and slid along the surface of the screen.  “Crap this is taking too long .. best back out and try another terminal.”  With that he unplugged his slicing tool from the jack on the terminal and spun on his heel.  As he did he armed his handgun and nudged me along down the corridor. 

“Check the doors on the right as we pass” he instructed.  “Locked .. locked .. locked .. ok ok this one is open.”  I said as I pushed the door open to reveal a plush office.  The placard on the desk said Assistant Director A. Balin.  “I need a minute to get attached and connected to the local grid.”  He said as he rounded the desk to access Assistant Director Balin’s terminal.  “What is the difference between this one and the one out in the corridor?”  “For one we aren’t standing out there with our asses hanging out, second our buddy Balin might have access to a more up to date data stream.  The core computer does subjective filtering for various levels of security.  Hope ole Balin here has at least level 4.”  He said getting logged in.

“Anything yet?” I asked as I looked around the room.  Pretty stark place here no window not many personal items on display.  There was a picture of an older woman and a couple teenaged kids, another little holo of a sports team mascot, a groove where his stylus would lay and that was about it for Balin’s desk.  Definitely nothing laying out that would give a hint about A. Balin’s profession. I tried the drawers on the synthwood file cabinet.  Locked of course, then I tried the credenza behind the desk.  One door opened with a smallish squeak revealing a crystal decanter and some short wide glasses cut in the same style.  I pulled the big crystal topped stopper out of the decanter and sniffed.  “Trise Brandy .. must be Banu or have Banu connections.”  I said rubbing my nose to get rid of the toxic smelling fumes.  “Hmm .. What would a Banu be doing here .. damn odd I’d say.” He grunted still flipping through multiple screens.  “OK got him.”  He said with a look I didn’t quite read on his face.  “Well where the fuck is he?” I almost shouted.  “Not Mitch, A. Balin, Ares Balin.”

“Seems he is or rather was an adjunct to a Banu delegation, some kind of polyglot that has a knack for Banu.”  He said.  “Anything on Mitch?” I said, rubbing my sweat coated palm on my flight suit.  “We have a very narrow window to locate him you know.”  I added.  “Yeah yeah I hear you but ya never know when a tidbit of info will come in handy.”  The Merc paused and flipped back a couple screens and then abruptly closed the terminal.  “We gotta get out of here now.”  He said cramming the tool back on his belt and nearly vaulting over the desk.  “What in Messer’s name is going on?” I pleaded as we ran down the corridor.  “The Major is being transferred right now .. stick close this will get messy.”  He said as his distance from me increased. 

As I reached the lift I heard the Merc say “Molise you still with the ship?”  “That’s a-firm” his colleague replied.  “OK, grab your gear and meet us on level 7 docks in 5”.  “Roger” Molise responded.

As soon as the lift stopped I pushed myself upright hands sliding up my thighs as I gasped for breath.  “c’mon Cap this way.”  The Merc put his large hand on my lower back and pushed me a long down the ever widening corridor.  We were in an area now that was occupied all hours of the day.

At the intersection leading to the landing pad the Merc stopped waiting for me to catchup.  I drew in a couple large gulps of air and looked down the corridor to the right that led to the pad.  Molise was just exiting the lift at the blast doors near the pad.  Turning to the left I looked down the corridor that came from the other direction.  There was a group of people heading our way.  I slapped at the Merc’s arm and pointed as discreetly as possible.  There in the middle of a pod of Marines was Mitch.  He was wearing a set of hospital scrubs with his hands shackled in front.

The Merc I was with turned to face me and said, “Back up and turn towards Molise.  I have your back.”  I turned and walked towards the other Merc.  As I approached Molise I heard the sound of a large weapon charging.  My hand went to my pistol.  Suddenly, it was in my hand clutched tightly to my chest.  As soon as the Marines rounded the corner to the Level 7 pad the Mercs in unison pushed me into the alcove near the lift and started firing in the direction of the Marines.

The Marines spread out with one hanging back pushing their prisoner to the deck his knee in Mitch’s back forcing his face to the deck plating.  I peeked around the corner watching the firefight getting a fix on the Marine holding Mitch firmly to the deck.  Several of the Marines were down and the Merc that lead me to this point was down on one knee laying down a barrage of fire that was taking chunks out of the passage way and the Marines that entered his field of fire.  Molise was also on one knee, his left arm hanging limp at his side.  In his right hand was a concussion grenade.  I saw the device light up just before he threw it toward the intersection of the corridors.  I leaned out again in what felt like slow motion and put a one of the high velocity Beryllium slivers from my hand gun into the face plate of the Marine guarding Mitch.  The spent super conducting coil ejected from the pistol causing the sideways twitch typical of this sort of weapon.  In my peripheral vision I saw the coil spiral towards the deck.  Then I fell backwards as a heavily armored body covered me effectively protecting me from flying debris the exploding grenade produced. 

There was a blinding light and a forceful thrum that made my insides quake.  Everyone was down now.  The only person moving in the corridor was Mitch.  He had his Marine guards hand gun between manacled hands and was shooting the downed Marines as he passed.  Molise regained his footing and moved towards Mitch, his rifle at his hip laying down streamers of destructive energy.  Mitch slid to the floor next to me and grabbed my arm.

He said, “What in Messer’s name are you doing here!”  I just looked at him not totally comprehending what he had just said.  Finding my voice, I looked into his eyes as I pointed towards the blast doors, “We found you.  Level 3 Docking Port.”

Mitch turned to the Merc holding up his manacled hands and said, “Riggs you got something to cut these?”  A few seconds later we were all up and heading for the pad.  Mitch was leading at a brisk pace.  Riggs and Molise were on either side of me.  Even though he was wounded, Molise was moving as fast as the rest of us.  From behind we collectively heard a series of shouts and alarms being sounded.  Then there was an eruption of weapons fire.  Both Mercs were hit and grunted from the impacts on the dense armor they wore.  I felt a huge fist hit me between the shoulder blades and burning stabbing pain bloomed in my chest. I put a hand up to see what it was but before I could reach my chest my face hit the deck plating.  My head bounced once and all went black.  I vaguely heard male voices shouting and the sound of armor sliding and scraping on the metal deck.

The universe blinked in and out of the dark void I found myself, until the bright lights, the sound of powerful engines thrumming and Mitch’s strained voice brought me back to consciousness.  He looked anxious as he held a medical a device to my chest.  Everything seemed sideways until I realized I was lying across a large armored arm.  In front of Mitch were the remains of a flight armor vest. 

Lisbeth couldn’t make out what was being said.  She looked up at the man leaning over her and whispered, “It doesn’t hurt now …”

_-o-_

Disclaimer:

I do not work for nor represent Star Citizen, Roberts Space Industries, Cloud Imperium Games or any other Star Citizen related entity in any form or fashion with the possible exception that I am a Backer and have a huge passion for this game already.

Chapter 05 - Freelancer

Shutting down the scan I slowed the ship to a stop and waited for the Freelancer to swing around us all the while keeping our ship in its deadly sights.  “I can’t open the cargo door we have exposed wounded onboard.”  I said, straining against the harness, twisting to get a visual on the Freelancer.  “Red I’m still not getting an acceptable read on you” he paused for a breath and continued, “too new and shiny to be real. Open the hatch. Now.”  He hissed.  I knew what was coming next.  “That was your last warning .. in 3 seconds I’ll open it for you.”  “OK OK give me a minute to make sure the wounded guy is secure.”

On ship comms I told the Mercs the Freelancer was off our starboard rear quarter.  I got a quick assurance they were set and to open up when I was ready. I methodically powered systems down to Stand-By, lastly gravity and vented atmosphere from the hold.  I paused over the hatch release for a few milliseconds before activating.  I hoped enough time had passed for the Mercs to be in position.  As the hatch partway cleared the hull I felt the ship shake from a nearby explosion.  A nicely placed shoulder mounted missile took the top off of the rear turret on the Freelancer.  The boarding crew from the Freelancer had already started boiling out of the rear of the Freelancer on a direct vector to our now fully open hatch.  The Mercs were shouting in the comms as they chose targets.  Two of the three Freelancer crew were down floating in the void between the ships. 

“Sit-rep” I called over comms as I continued powering up ships systems.  “We have it under control” growled one of the Mercs.  “Just have one maggot left to deal with”.  “I have numbers on Freelancer .. she is rotating to bring her big guns to bear. Get back onboard closing hatch on confirm.  We don’t have time to deal with these fucktards”, I said, mumbling the last bit to myself.  “Secure” shouted the Merc over intership.  I slapped at the rear hatch controls then focused on arming weapons and boosting shields.  We came in system as showroom stock as possible.  However, there was a duffle strapped in the co-pilots seat containing a full set of overclocked modules to be inserted before our hopefully not too exciting exit from Terran space.   Familiarity with the modules gave me momentary shoulda-coulda flash thinking about the added speed and almost insane maneuvering capability the overclocked devices provide.  ‘Don’t over think it pilot just do the drill’, flashed through my mind quelling the negative energy.  Training took over.

The Freelancer rotated toward us as our engines began accelerating us toward system max speed.  I transferred remaining power to the rear shields from noncritical systems.  As I moved the sliders to stage additional power from the med bay I caught a faint sig on radar.  It was there for a second then gone.  Weapons fire from the Freelancer splatted against the maximized shields protecting the rear hatch of the Red.   The Freelancer was closing on us.  The Red shuddered as the ballistics bounced off the thick metal of the rear hatch.  I wanted to flip us around and jab one of the tiny missiles in the racks through her front window but I slid sideways avoiding most of the barrage of ordinance she was flinging at us.

Abruptly the Freelancer broke off in a defensive maneuver of its own.  I crabbed us sideways looking at the Freelancer and saw his port engine start to fragment from small explosions deep inside the machinery then erupt into a ball of fuel fired flame that trailed the Freelancer in its death spiral.

The F7C-S moved toward us on a steep intercept.  Comms announced, “.. all good there?”  “Standby” I replied “status in hold ..” “We are good here Cap’.” one of the Mercs responded.  “We have us a for real wounded guy now .. har har har” he finished. “Yeah all good .. I think”, I replied to Ryder.  “I’ll drop back some and be ready at the return coordinates, this is as far as I go.  Apparition out.”  “Afirm Red out” I checked our heading at a glance and was relieved it was still the same as it was a minute ago.

From the intership comm I heard a groan “.. arggg .. what the fuck”  “Calm down lad we patched the hole in your suit and shot you with some meds”.  “You scrum piles aren’t medics .. arrrggg”  “Nah .. but we’ve been shot up enough to know what to do”  “Hah look at this ..” says one of the Mercs. I heard the familiar tapping and responding squeaks from a mobiglass.  “Go figure .. our little bounty maggot has a price on his head”  he finished.  “No shit” I replied.  “ .. arrgggg .. my arm .. man .. arrggg” our prisoner / patient whimpered.  “Yes Ma’am, has a tidy little chit attached to his name.”  Then another voice added, “Hummm .. not sure laddie but looks like you might be getting one of these.”  The other Merc responded obviously laughing at the situation.  I couldn’t see but I could imagine the Merc shaking his cybernetic leg at the guy secured to the ships life support systems.

Time seemed to crawl as we maneuvered through the system following defined traffic lanes that defile space near Terra Spaceport.  We were superficially scanned by one of the drones dotted along our flight path.  After a brief exchange with intersystem control we were directed to Emergency pad 3.

“We are about 10 minutes out, handing over entry to Terra Approach Control” I comm.  “Acknowledged” I heard from the back.  This should be interesting I thought as I flipped the switch that handed over landing to Terran AC.  The drop through atmosphere put us on a vector directly to UEE Medical Center.

“Patient is secured and resting quietly. He won’t be a problem.”  “Roger that, weapons off, shields down, on beacon, looks like a straight line in.”  Before our ship touched down the blast doors painted with a large number 3 opened and a med crew poured out with a floating gurney.  As the Red settled on its skids I released the rear hatch for access. 

My thoughts went back to the image of Mitch’s Aurora disintegrating before my eyes.  With a sigh I grabbed the duffle and made my way into the med bay of the ship.

_-o-_

Disclaimer:

I do not work for nor represent Star Citizen, Roberts Space Industries, Cloud Imperium Games or any other Star Citizen related entity in any form or fashion with the possible exception that I am a Backer and have a huge passion for this game already.

Chapter 04 - Mitch

"He is alive???"  I said as I bolted upright in my bunk. Pulling on my sweater and fumbling to zip my boots I hurriedly followed Ryder to the briefing room my heart pounding in my ears as I walked in behind him.  The room was packed with nearly everyone aboard.  The Commodore was standing near the front of the room idly running her hands across the back of one of the chairs as she stared at a comm sheet on the table.  Ryder walked up to the Commodore and spoke to her with his back turned to the rest of the room.  Commodore Nadine tilted her head leaning slightly to hear what Ryder was saying above the low rumble of voices in the room.  Pushing her hair back behind her ear she straightened and addressed the room.

"Now that everyone was here, we have a report from an intercepted Advocacy transmission stating that an unknown civilian was captured after a short encounter near the Terra ship yards.  The capture was performed by an unnamed UEE Marine flight group."  Commodore Nadine paused for effect and continued. "We have reason to believe that this unknown civilian is Major Wayland.”  There was a sudden barrage of questions and shouts wanting to know when we were going in to get him. Ryder raised his hand demanding quiet to allow the Commodore to continue.  “The next step is to find out where the military is holding our 'civilian'” she said as she scanned the room.

The shouts were deafening especially from behind me where two always armed Mercs were standing.  These rather large square-ish men both volunteered to go in and get him unassisted, shouting their offer above everyone else in the room.  Several others joined in the chorus of shouts until the Commodore raised her hands asking for quiet.  The room eventually quietened down some and Nadine held up the comm sheet.  She crushed it in her hand and said “We need more information and we need someone to go get it“.  She looked towards the back of the room and gestured towards the Mercs.  “After we have his location and assess the risk to our Org we will go get him” she said as she tossed the crumpled comm sheet to the center of the table.

Pointing at the wadded up paper on the conference table she called me by name saying, “Lander, since you are so eager to ‘get back out there’, you have been volunteered to verify this comm at the source.  Verify only, do you read me?”  “Aye Sir” I responded quickly.  I could feel tremors in my chest and hands as the gravity of what the Commodore had just said soaked in.  I did really want to be back out there and if there was a chance I could help get Mitch back I was ready to go now.  “Sir, when can I head out?” I added my thoughts taking hardly a single instant to gel into a response.  “Soon” Ryder said answering for the Commodore.  “The comm wasn’t specific about location but we have a trace on the origin.  You should have intermediate details on your glass now.  Complete info should catch up to you by the time you reach the Terra system.” He finished with a swipe across the face of his glass. 

I nodded my head in agreement and waited for the rest of the briefing to continue.  I didn’t hear much of what was said but I did perk up when the Stealth ship was mentioned as part of the equipment the team would use.  As it turned out I wasn’t flying the Ghost but one of the ‘sanitized’ Reds on hand.  When my glass flashed I immediately flipped to the incoming comms screen and read the message describing the mission in four short lines.

1.       Intermediate destination: UEE Medical Center, Terra

2.       Infiltrate local computer systems

3.       Locate our downed pilot

4.       Report back to Command

As I walked around the Cutlass inspecting the external systems the two Mercs from the briefing crossed the flight deck and waited outside the ship staging perimeter until I finish the inspection.  One of the big men held up his extremely large hand motioning me over to them and said, “Lander .. we hear you are bad ass behind the stick.”  I respond with a sort of grimace that was meant to be a grin, “I do alright I guess .. luckier than most I suspect.”  “I hear right about you being a chem user? Slam, widow, super stims and the like?”  the other one questioned.  “Not for a while” I say, thinking to myself this was exactly what I needed, a couple holier than thou Mercs, sarcastically I add “Why?  You worried I might go all junky on you?”  “Nah .. we been around” he said indicating his partner and himself with an armored thumb “.. just that this might get a little intense later on.”  “Yeah, know this .. we got your back Lander.” The other Merc added.  Both these big guys loomed over me but I got the feeling that a sort mutual respect flowed evenly between us.  “You get us where we need to be and we will do the rest.”  I nodded.

Then he leaned closer to me and said in a low voice.  “Like I said we been around, if you need anything .. anything .. you just say.” Almost whispering the last bit he taps the med-kit on his right hip.  Straightening up he looks around the flight deck.  Seeing no one around he reaches for my hand.  I think this a bit odd but reach up to shake his large gloved hand.  He enclosed my hand in both of his and I felt two small glass vials in my palm.  Just like in the not so distant past I discreetly shoved the vials in the breast pouch of my lightweight flight armor. 

My body seemed to remember this motion and where it leads.  Almost at once I felt the almost sexual quickening associated with breaking Slam.  Slam has a less than subtle effect on one’s body and mind.  Everything goes into overdrive.  It is like your heart and suprarenal glands have been super-charged.  Reflexes are subdued but there is a powerful desire to press yourself beyond the bodies limits, handy if you are an on the edge kind of pilot the military churns out.  The suck part?  Right when you need what it does for you the most, Pfffftt it leaves you hanging, totally unpredictable.

As I walked up the ramp I removed my handgun from the holster on my left calf plating and checked ammo and safety.  Patting my ammo pouches again for the 10^th time I slid into the pilot’s seat and started the preflight.

In the back of the ship I heard the Mercs talking to the med tech that ‘loaned’ the gear and the ship we would be taking in to locate Mitch’s whereabouts.  “Preflight complete, closing hatch, prepare for departure.”  I heard a final ‘good hunting’ from the med tech and the rear hatch vacuum sealing pumping out atmosphere. 

On the comms I listened to the Mercs going through their own version of preflight.  Weapons are cycled, harnesses tightened, equipment energized.   One of the Mercs says, “Let’s do this.”  “Roger that” I respond.  Spinning up the engines we lifted from the hanger deck and headed towards inner system.

A short while later, I took a moment to wallow in the routine by pulling back the throttle and watched our speed dissipate as we coasted down from 0.2 entering hi sec UEE space.  The Cutlass should come up clean on the space port scans.  The Mercs have tech to obscure our identities should the scans go deeper.  “Systems Check” I say through intership comms.  “5 by 5 back here Cap” grunted one of the Mercs.  “Acknowledged” I responded crisply.

At about 0.1 AU out our velocity had diminished to UEE system max and I did a resync of the chronometers onboard to system local time strobe.  My mind slowed and I tried to remember how many times I had watched the chronometer readjust.   I always thought, however absurd it may sound, that flying in the black as my own personal time machine, dilating a couple minutes every time I sat here at max cruise of 0.2 for an hour or so.

Suddenly we were scanned deeply.  “Fucking bounty hunter” I say over intership comms.  “Can’t the twat see that we are a Red?” I added while running my fingers around the edge of the offline weapons controls.  These assholes just can’t pass up an easy cred.  I open comms ship board so the Merc’s can hear the ship to ship exchange.

The comms blast out “Hey Red what you in such a hurry for? Got a hot one?”  “Just trying to do my gig Freelancer, you have business?”  I respond calmly.  “I’m not getting a good read on you, curious what that means.” He adds with a bit of an aggressive tone.

With my finger poised above the scanner console and I respond as soon as the pirate uttered his last syllable, “I’m going to scan you Freelancer.  Don’t get excited.”  I quickly scanned the Freelancer and saw the ship, crew, and available weapons at ready.  “This is UEE Space Freelancer.  You seem to be coming in a little hot, don’t you think?”  I said with what I hoped would come across as a sultry promising tone.  “Not that close.  Why not make this easy.  Kill momentum and open the rear we will have us have a peek.”  His tone steadily becoming more insistent “And break off the scan Red.”

_-o-_

Disclaimer:

I do not work for nor represent Star Citizen, Roberts Space Industries, Cloud Imperium Games or any other Star Citizen related entity in any form or fashion with the possible exception that I am a Backer and have a huge passion for this game already.

Chapter 03 - Realization

Later that day (after jumping to the Terra system and transferring two new sparkly clean ships)

The next thing I know I’m floating in space with my suit avionics dampened to local signals only in the midst of a mangled missile launcher and some old TR thrusters parts.  I caught a glimpse of the Cutlass that gotten me here making haste towards outer system.  Mitch’s Aurora is nowhere in sight.

Moving to the platform was pretty easy.  I didn’t even have to think about it much.  Hand over hand up the conduit and a quick walk across one of the energy confinement tubes that are routed underside of the platform.  A quick look at my chronometer showed 23 minutes since drop off. Crap. At the edge of the platform I saw the Stealth Hornets lined up neatly in a row.  The closest one was less than 10 meters away.

I don’t remember moving from the edge of the platform to the ladder of the ship but suddenly I was in the Stealth ship attaching the crypto set into the avionics deck and firing up the systems.  A quick look around and a long few seconds for my HUD to sync up with the ships avionics and the canopy closed.  No warm up just throttle to max and drive away was the plan.  The ships systems seemed to be reluctant to comply with this and I had a scary moment that the engine systems were locking me out.  The ships computer finally agreed that this was an emergency takeoff and released the lockout but I only had minimal power but I was off the platform.  A quick look at my Glass gave me relative bearing to my first waypoint. 

24 minutes since drop off

Systems check: power levels approaching the low side of optimum, EM signature minimal, tracking systems to passive, weapons offline.  The munitions display seemed to be lagging the other systems emergency start up procedures. I tapped it and the blinking stopped.

The Stealth ship was crisp under my control.  Passive radar indicated several Hornets had been launched in answer to the obvious theft of the Stealth ship.  I started evasive maneuvers as soon as I saw the first pulse sliced space off to my left.  The plan was to get to the way point as quickly as possible and trust that my colleagues would be lurking in the shadows ready to ambush the pursuing ships.  That would have been great except I was flying at reduced power with barely a 2 minute head start on the Marines in the Hornets.  Plan ‘B’ was to make best speed to the ancient mining colony in the belt, quite a ways off from the offloading platform but doable.  Plan ‘C’ was, well, I hoped we didn’t have to go there.  Something about ejecting seconds before slamming the ship into a large space rock didn’t seem like a good choice.  Even in the worst of times.

Ok scratch the way point defined in Plan ‘A’, Plan ‘B’ it is.  Luckily the engine had finally attained max power and I shoved the throttle full forward altering shields to full rear and a course correction to make the best speed to the belt.  Passive still showed 3 targets closing fast.  This was emphasized by bolts of plasma and laser all around with thunks and splatter sounding impacts coming from the shields.  I remember muttering to myself not to make it easy for them as I ran through evasive moves designed to cause the pursuit craft to split up. 

One of the UEE Hornets was trying to vector in on me by flying through one of the many structures in near space.  I estimated where he would reappear and turned toward the structure and attempted to arm the guns.  The munitions display was still acting up but I was able to get the two wing guns online after a few intense seconds of dodging plasma and poking the screen repeatedly.  As soon as the guns were active I turned in and started firing at the structure damaging the traffic pass through.  The explosion that occurred shortly after I had started firing was a lot bigger than I expected.  This was primarily due to the Marine jigging to avoid the twisted metal and slamming his Hornet into a larger very dense portion of the pass through.

One Hornet down two to go with a quite large expanse of space between me and the ancient mining colony.  I set the engines to take me to 0.2 and allocated remaining power to rear shields. The Marines were closing on me as the first pulses from the engine pressed me back into the seat.  After I attained 0.2 I began to study data describing the belt in all its gory detail.  I located the refueling platform and set course towards it as an intermediate destination.

Far off vision

Then I was somewhere else flying across the void mesmerized by the intense beauty of the nebula light-years away from me but directly centered in my field of view.  The nebula I was looking at would be the birthing place of stars and planets where in millions if not billions of years from now those iridescent clouds would calm and merge to cultivate life. 

Shouts, thumps, heavy boots running

Then there was a commotion in the corridor outside my bunk that made me sit up and yawn.

 

Ships chronometer indicated several hours had passed.  I must have dosed off, laying there blinking my eyes I reflected on the last exchange with Nadine and just how distraught I felt having to deal with her demeaning crap.  Not to mention the loss of a true friend that was caught up in one of her schemes.  And the bitch was making me out to be the bad guy.  Are the creds worth this amount of anguish?  I slammed my head back down into the pillow, grabbing the blanket I flung it onto the floor.  I wanted to scream badly but worse than that I wanted to go back redo the mission.  That wasn’t going to happen though.  I could see this whole thing turning out to be a pointless exercise in futility costing lives and equipment for the financial gain of a greedy fleet owner.  Fucking bitch.

_-o-_

Disclaimer:

I do not work for nor represent Star Citizen, Roberts Space Industries, Cloud Imperium Games or any other Star Citizen related entity in any form or fashion with the possible exception that I am a Backer and have a huge passion for this game already.

Chapter 02 - The Commodore

As I exited the lift from the lower decks to the bridge I looked around at the people on duty.  There was a look of concentration on everyone’s face as the ship prepared for a jump.  I figured we could do the jump to the Briarpatch from here in a couple jump points.  Surprisingly this was our 3^rd jump in less than 2 hours.  The bridge had no clutter or anything out of place unlike the hanger deck.  I surveyed the people present and walked towards Commodore Nadine.  “Sir, can I have a minute?”  Nadine didn’t seem pleased to see me on the bridge.  Her raspy voice had an even sharper edge to it than normal.  “I read your report pilot.”  Her eyes fixed on me with laser like accuracy.  “Yes Ma’am, but I wanted to tell you in person that Mitch was dear to me and ..”  I tried to finish but her hand was up palm towards me her eyes hard and fierce.  Her voice dropped a few octaves, “I warned him about trusting a Slam Junky on a mission like this.”

I looked up at her hand then back to her face.  She slowly turned her head taking in the people crowding the consoles on the bridge of her Corvette.  “Do you actually think that anyone here feels less of a loss?”  “No Ma’am but he knew that I haven’t used chems in quite a while ..” I squeaked out. Her out stretched hand became a fist.  “Is that so ‘pilot’?” she said with a slight sneer. “Let me see your arms and hands.”  I was taken aback by this request or was it an order? I rolled up the sleeves of my flight suit and held my arms out in front of me.  You could still see the scars and the dark tint of Widow in the veins close to the surface of my skin but my hands didn’t shake that much and I haven’t cracked a Slam vial in months.

She didn’t even blink as she said, “Mortensen, get this scrum off my bridge.”  “Nadine .. Ma’am .. Commodore,” I pleaded “Mitch asked for me to pilot the Ghost.”  I said a bit loudly as the ex-Marine Gunnery Sergeant rose from his seat and took my arm turning me towards the lift.  “.. and he paid the price in full for trusting that a Slam addict would hold up her end.” She continued.  Mortensen tightened his grip.  My feet twisted in place and I felt myself being pushed towards the lift.

At the lift Mortensen stood between me and Commodore Nadine.  His huge bulk blocked her from view, which was likely a blessing for both her and me.  “Alright ..” I hissed jerking my arm from his grip.  Mortensen’s face was expressionless as he towered over me.  His hand touched the control to call the lift.  I turned to face aft and stepped onto the platform.  “Everyone has a past life pilot” he whispered to the back of my head.  I didn’t acknowledge his words, frowning I just continued to look down as lift platform descended.

I was fuming when I got back to my bunk.  The stupid bitch didn’t even acknowledge I brought in the Stealth ship.  OK so it had a few dents and some scratches.  She got her stupid Stealth fighter, so why am I sitting here not out there doing what I do?  Shit.  I flopped back on the bunk and closed my eyes.

Thinking back over the past half day

Mitch was his typical male self this morning, all testosterone and grab ass. He and his crew were in the mess finishing a round of stims when I sat down with some juice and a packet.  “So, Kissy-beth, you up for a run today?”  He said with a small chuckle at the end.  “Maybe, maybe not ‘Itchie” I responded with no chuckle.  “Serious, I drew a good one today.  The Commodore has been planning this one for a while and intel is just in saying ‘GO NOW’.” He added waving his hands in the air indicating the nebulous thing called intel.

“So what is this ‘good one’ you drew?”  I questioned sipping juice through the attached tube.  “A simple snatch and run .. mostly” he posed. “Mostly?” I queried.  “Yeah it is a few jumps from here near the Shipyard on Terra.  Relax it’s not at the main hub or near the sector cops.” He answered.  “That is one huge ‘mostly’ Mitch.” I frowned adding “That is deep in high sec controlled UEE space.” “We will be in and out in less than 20 minutes way I figure it” He said chuckling again blowing off the seriousness of even going near there, given our occupation. “OK so .. multiple jumps and wander into UEE Space and do what?”  I asked ripping open the packet.  “F7-scrumming-C Stealth ship.” He answered looking straight into my now widened eyes.  I hate it when he does that.  He knows I can’t do eye contact like that for more than a couple seconds without throwing something. 

But I grinned saying, “That sounds interesting.  So what are we after? Schematics, parts, a quick look-see?” “Nope .. bringing one to the Briarpatch for the mechanics and techs to take apart” he said smiling hugely.  I sat the packet back down and pushed the juice box to the side.  A sticky syrup like coating on the table top caused me to look more closely at where I was placing my hands.  “You gotta be shitting me.”  I exclaimed adding “.. so we just jump in diddle around for as you say 20 minutes and fly off with one of these mystery ships.”  “Yep that is about as simple as you can make it.”  He said with the same stupid smile on his face.  “You are actually messing with me right?  Ha ha very funny asshole.”  “Not even a little bit Lisbeth.” He said in a tone of voice that reminded me of how my father, a long time flight deck officer, had sounded. 

Moments later we were in the briefing room going over tactical and the ‘intel’ that Commodore Nadine had been waiting for.  It was actually pretty straight forward.  The ship we were after was one of six the UEE had dropped in the yard for eval.  Security was dense on the station but not at the offloading platform.  Mitch read the intel dispatch out loud, “Just a few Marines and some science geeks.  Geeks we can deal with, Marines however, perhaps we need to look at this from all angles.“

I pulled the station topo survey in front of me and pushed at the image to give me a side view of the offloading platform.  “OK .. how about this ..” I said turning the topo towards Mitch and Ryder, the security maven aboard the ship.  I stood up and pointed at a tangle of piping and equipment under the platform.  “All you have to do is get a pilot here” I said pointing to an energy conduit. “.. and then all they will need to do is eva up the side of the conduit .. here or here.”

“Mind making it a little larger for those of us that don’t have hawk vision?” asked one of the other guys.  Zooming in on the conduit showed that it that it went most of the way to the platform where the F7-C’s were parked.  Security on the platform looked pretty well laid out though, covering most of the immediate docking area.  The Stealth ships were well protected. It would be tricky at best but the intel had provided tags for the ships and we have crypto tech that will allow quick access to any of the parked ships systems, provided the tags were spot on.  I personally thought 20 minutes from drop off to escape was a bit optimistic but just maybe it could be done.  Next though would be how to get a Cutlass or an Aurora close enough to the platform to deliver a pilot without detection which would lead to premature destruction and death.

“How about a fly by with the intended Pilot in a tractor beam?” Asked one of the other pilots “.. then all you have to do is slow down and release the beam.”  I have to admit that was a curious possibility, creepy but interesting all the same.  Mitch and Ryder puzzled over the topo survey for a few more minutes.  Ryder stood and looked around the room “We really want the technology this ship has, that goes without saying, but this mission is volunteer only.”  He scanned the faces of the four of us that were Hornet qualified.  Mitch raised his hand and stopped Ryder at that point.  He said, “I’m willing to pilot the drop off ship and provide cover fire if needed, but how about a diversion in the form of a mock battle?” 

Everyone turned to listen to Mitch.  “OK .. so we take two ships, separate and pretend to fight it out within sensor range of the platform.” He took on a more serious tone and continued, “we use the idea of the Hornet Pilot in the tractor along with some debris that gets released during the dogfight, close enough to the lower levels of the platform for safe and quick eva to the conduit Lisbeth pointed out.”  “Yeah, they will probably be more interested in the action than a pile of battle debris.  Although dogfights in hi sec are usually dealt with quickly.” Ryder said shaking his head.

_-o-_

Disclaimer:

I do not work for nor represent Star Citizen, Roberts Space Industries, Cloud Imperium Games or anyother Star Citizen related entity in any form or fashion with the possible exception that I am a Backer and have a huge passion for this game already.

Chapter 01 - Stealth

Faster you stupid thing.  Straining against g-forces and the harness I leaned to the left to move the throttle forward another millimeter, then a tight turn around a large section of the asteroid that the mining bots had been attached to. The ship board bitching Betty announced the obvious collision warning, "Oh shit!" I gulped; pushing the stick forward the black ship dips its nose barely clearing the slowly rotating wreckage.  With clinched teeth and my eyes scrunched closed I hear the metal on metal scrape of the left dorsal rubbing along an enormous tank. Having survived that moment of insanity I open my eyes and look for a possible avenue of escape.  

Wiggling the stick to get a look left then right I'm suddenly thrown forward against the restraints.  The black ship is engulfed in flames and is tumbling tail over nose away from the concussion of the blast.  On the last rotation before regaining control I witnessed the dented metal of the large fuel tank ripping open and a secondary explosion of the internal systems blowing shards of its innards in every direction, bits of composite and metal ping against the bottom of the ship. OK, think you dumbass, how are you going get away with this.  If they didn’t know where you were a minute ago the definitely know now. 

Most of the instruments seemed to be fine initially.  Jigging to the left and down toward the densest collection of rocks and debris getting away from the explodable crap in the vicinity.  OK check weapons, three missiles showing.  A quick tap to examine munitions is useless. Thumping the blinking display with my finger makes it go dark.  With a final look of disgust at the screen I mutter under my breath “this is going well”.  The time constraint I was working under was intense, so maybe it didn’t like the emergency up the startup sequence so much. 

Into the cloud of twisted metal and rotating rocks I plummeted.  “Missile Lock” biting my lip I pull back the throttle and toe the pedals to abruptly slow the black ship for a very tight turn over and down behind a large habitation module.

The ship is made for this type of close quarters combat but me on the other hand, I hold my breath against the compression of my flight suit.   As my vision clears from the red out the detonation and an eruption of materials from the disintegrating habitat nearly catches me.  Back on the throttle before being impacted by miscellaneous space hab materials, I stabilize the ships trajectory perpendicular to the habitat for a couple seconds, then left and down again.  Just a few moments and I’ll be in the debris field.  They know that is where I’m headed so why did I just use the same maneuver.  I shake my head and think, “You will be the deadest of all dumbasses if you keep this up.”

A heart stopping “Thud” sound and the damage display glowing brightly showed a malfunctioning thruster. “Thud” noise again but lighter, the thruster must be hanging on by cabling or a hose or something.  I touch the screen to disable the damaged thruster as I jig right and left dodging smallish chunks of rubble in my flight path.  After a quick assessment of the controls I make a mental note that the nose end of the ship seems a bit heavy but controllable.  If I could just avoid becoming part of the debris field myself I just might make the plan ‘B’ way point. Plasma blasts from two directions now, luckily the field of fire was full of debris that absorbs much of the energy before it hit the black ship.  Shields holding steady.

In the cluttered field of the once prosperous mining operation I had to slow to a near crawl.  Picking my way delicately through the carnage I saw one of the UEE Hornets making a long arc around the perimeter of the battle zone.  I guess he thinks he will get in front of me going round that way.  I truly hope Mitch is here somewhere close.  I mentally promise to never ever again try to intentionally piss him off, provided he takes out one of these guys that are trying to kill me. Snaking my way through the twisted mess at this speed makes me feel like a duck on a pond or maybe a rather large slow moving black fish.  Trying to look in all directions at once, I’m certain the guy following me has had to slow down as well.  I don’t dare turn on the active radar but the passive set isn’t very enlightening at the moment.  Just keep flying Lisbeth remember the training.  Dodging up down then down again left up down quick turn again with a plasma blast shattering rocks off to my left, close left.  Maybe a little more speed.  Yikes, maybe not, too much stuff to deal with.  My hands and feet are in constant motion dodging and thrusting then braking then rolling twisting dodging and occasionally banging into small objects. 

As I made yet another braking turn I caught a glimpse of the other Hornet off my right side.  He had to be sweating as much as I was in that rock soup.  “Th-whackkk” a small helmet sized chunk of something bounced off the canopy.  Slower maybe?  Nope, as another plasma bolt seared the right wing of the black ship. 

OK enough of this.  Thinking out loud I mutter, “If I can just find an open spot for 3 seconds I might be able to reinitialize the munitions screen .. Ahh” a glimpse of the refueling platform as I slid by a house sized boulder.  Lots of bigger denser looking junk down that way obscuring the platform, if I don’t get entangled in the guy wires that were used to secure the refiner to the larger asteroids I might make the platform.  A quick look over my shoulder at my six doesn’t tell me where the guy on my butt has gotten to.  No plasma blasts in the a few moments maybe he had to pay attention to where he was going and had to take his eyes off me.

After a quick burst of speed and an erratic slalom run through the large rocks I pulled the throttle back stopping the ship mid turn and used tiny pulses from the thrusters to snug the Stealth ship tightly in the darkness between the split halves of a medium sized asteroid.  As I slap at the mains powering all systems down I found that I was holding my breath. 

The Hornet pilot evidently made an over aggressive course correction in the boulder field we just passed through, he was trailing a stream of what I would imagine sounded like hissing sparks from the point where a missing bit of his port wing had been attached.  As a testament of the Stealth ships prowess he flies right by me toward the refueling platform. 

He is close enough that I can clearly see the UEE insignia on his helmet.  Then he is a ball of fire. Mitch’s Aurora slid out from its hiding place and moved toward the dead Hornet, I could just imagine the smirk on his face after pulling off that sneak attack. I shouted out loud, “I love you Mitch!”

The smile on my face doesn’t last long though.  Just as I was about to reboot the mains I saw a very fast missile streaking in on Mitch’s location.  The cylinder of death was screaming in at a horrifying rate.  The shot was taken from a short distance off.  Obviously they had him on visual as well as active radar.  I shriek “You BASTARDS” as Mitch’s ship was ripped into undefinable shreds of rubbish.

Then last Hornet swooped in on an approach obviously looking for me and his lost wingman.  As he passed out of view I jerked the lever that controls the mains and smack the top of the munitions screen with my fist.  It bursts into activity telling me almost all munitions are spent except for the three high speed low density missiles.  I rotated the thrusters to point me out the other side of the asteroid, arm the missiles and set the shields to use maximum power available.  I knew the UEE Hornet would get a ping from this but this guy needed to die.  And there he was about 100 meters away heading towards the offloading area of the mining platform. 

Lock-on / Launch .. count to 4 .. Lock-on / Launch, two of my spears are away trailing bursts of plasma as they sought the target.

He was very good; dodging with a move I have never seen before that allowed him to avoid the first missile but didn’t recover quickly enough and the second went right up his tail pipe.

Heading back toward the landing platform I see Mitch’s ship is in fragments no larger than a SataBall.  Not good to cry in ones helmet but he was a dear friend.  Other than being an occasional irritating idiot I loved him.

Reattaching the crypto set that alters the ships ID, I changed heading towards the Briarpatch.  With a sad heart I think about the refueling platform one last time.  I sniff back the tears thinking how much crap Mitch would have given me for all the damage on this new trophy F7C-S. 

As I adjust the power systems to get maximum engine output I apply my focus to the task at hand.

_-o-_

Disclaimer:

I do not work for nor represent Star Citizen, Roberts Space Industries, Cloud Imperium Games or any other Star Citizen related entity in any form or fashion with the possible exception that I am a Backer and have a huge passion for this game already.

Star Citizen Stories

These stories are what I envision as the type of gameplay we can expect in Star Citizen.  The characters depicted are pure fiction and are derived from the darker recesses of my mind.  Not the creepiest dark places but close.

The first couple chapters are 'edited' versions of a short story I wrote for a competition to win one of the F7C-S ships.  I didn't win but thats ok the story that won was awesome.

I won't post any spoilers here so you will have to read it to see what I mean, both about the gameplay part and the dark places.

One bit I will share about my actual experiences in Arena Commander is that I pretty much suck totally as a pilot.  Not for lack of trying but things just happen too fast at times and then suddenly my ship is crashed or blown to bits.  It is fun though but sometimes frustrating and it is too late for me to change my name to Designated Target.

• Chapter 01 - Stealth
• Chapter 02 - The Commodore
• Chapter 03 - Realization
• Chapter 04 - Mitch
• Chapter 05 - Freelancer
• Chapter 06 - Rescue
• Chapter 07 - Pavel

_-o-_

Disclaimer:

I do not work for nor represent Star Citizen, Roberts Space Industries, Cloud Imperium Games or any other Star Citizen related entity in any form or fashion with the possible exception that I am a Backer and have a huge passion for this game already.