[AP] PRODIGAL SON, A Rogue's Tale - Book II
Moderators: TheElf, Moderators for English X Forum
-
Olterin
- Posts: 1110
- Joined: Fri, 27. Feb 09, 20:34
I see Drake is taking the "nuke it from orbit, it's the only way to be sure" approach very, very seriously
Great chapter Scion, looking forward to more (this one saved my day
)
edit: for now, the story of Mal and Tasha will continue here
Great chapter Scion, looking forward to more (this one saved my day
)edit: for now, the story of Mal and Tasha will continue here
Last edited by Olterin on Fri, 4. May 12, 09:07, edited 1 time in total.
"Do or do not, there is no try"
"My Other Overwhelming Mixed Assault Fleet is a Brigantine" -Seleucius, commenting on my ship naming scheme
"My Other Overwhelming Mixed Assault Fleet is a Brigantine" -Seleucius, commenting on my ship naming scheme
-
Nathancros
- Posts: 674
- Joined: Tue, 30. Nov 10, 04:46
eyyyyyyyyyy there soz bout vanishing,
Scion ya story is going GREAT
seems drake is still going by his new life motto
"Nukes and emotional instabilty solves all lifes problems"
ahah remember that?
if u want gabriel/lucifer back i has a wierd... idea. floating through my head, i'd love to get back in with the story
up to you mate, PM me if u wanna hear the idea
Ok later mate
WINGNUT AWAAAY
*trips over*
OW!
Scion ya story is going GREAT
seems drake is still going by his new life motto
"Nukes and emotional instabilty solves all lifes problems"
ahah remember that?
if u want gabriel/lucifer back i has a wierd... idea. floating through my head, i'd love to get back in with the story
up to you mate, PM me if u wanna hear the idea
Ok later mate
WINGNUT AWAAAY
*trips over*
OW!
Nullam et arcu vitae magna instabilitate omnia solvit
Am a recovering Addict of the CREATIVE FORUM.
Long live X3
Am a recovering Addict of the CREATIVE FORUM.
Long live X3
-
Neeros
- Posts: 195
- Joined: Fri, 3. Dec 10, 16:34
-
Kirlack
- Posts: 1995
- Joined: Fri, 25. Jun 04, 15:59
Yeah, SD's stories should come with a warning: 'May cause tendencies towards illegal behavior' Madder than a bastard on Fathers Day
My DiD Stories: Peace(s) of Eight (Inactive) - Way of the Gun [KIA] - Status: Online (Active)
An Illustrated Idiots Guide to CLS
My DiD Stories: Peace(s) of Eight (Inactive) - Way of the Gun [KIA] - Status: Online (Active)
An Illustrated Idiots Guide to CLS
-
Scion Drakhar
- Posts: 932
- Joined: Wed, 27. Oct 10, 03:15
Previous Chapter / Next Chapter
Glad to see I'm still contributing to your corruption.
Heh heh heh.
12. The Old Man
"Sal!" The bellowing was coming from the front of the house, near the main door. "Uncle Sal! I gotta talk to you, Sally!"
"Oh, frak me," Salvatore Vassar exhaled over his cigar. His wife was thirty jazura younger than he was. She was beautiful, curvaceous and at that moment bent over a flower bed tending to her roses. Sal had been smoking a cigar and admiring the view. At the sound of his nephew, though, he started losing all of his appetites. Linda, his wife, looked up as he cursed and then glanced at the house.
"Sally!" the bellowing continued. "Uncle Sal! Will you tell these guys to let me in?! I have to talk to you!"
Linda rolled her eyes and shook her head. Then she looked at him again and winked before turning back to her gardening. Sal exhaled and glanced at his bodyguard, Vincent. He rolled his eyes and then nodded, curling his fingers in a gesture that said, 'come on.' Vincent nodded, having trouble keeping the smirk off his face, and disappeared into the house. A moment later his nephew came through the back door like a charging bull and stumbled out onto the lawn. He was covered in sweat and his eyes and mouth were wide open.
"Uncle Sal! Uncle Sally!!" Toni charged him and came to a shifting, uncomfortable halt directly above Sal's lawn chair. "I gotta talk to you! I gotta talk...!"
"Sto-op!" Sal said, holding his hand up to shield himself. "God! You look like a fat kid chasin’ an ice cream truck! Sit down and stop drippin’ on me!" He pointed at the other lawn chair. "You're making me uncomfortable."
"Y-yeah, Sally. Sorry Sally." Toni sat down as Sal used a towel to wipe his face and arm. When he was done he glanced at Toni, not bothering to keep the distaste out of his expression.
"Well?" Sal asked, more than a little impatient. "What is it?"
"Drake," Toni panted. "It's Drake! And Sally? He's got Sin! He's got Sin, Sally!"
"Drake," Sal’s eyes narrowed as he echoed his nephew.
"Yeah, Sally." Toni’s second chin shook as he sat there staring at him. Sal already felt like slapping him.
“Who the hell is Drake?”
“You know, Sally. That kid Gil Jerigan took in. He used to do some work for us.”
It took Sal a moment. Then he looked at Toni again. “The skinny little kid with the blonde hair?”
“Yeah-yeah, that’s him.”
“What do you mean he has Sin?”
“He’s got him, Sally! He’s got him in an airlock up in space! Says ...” Toni’s eyes grew so wide Sal could see the whites all around them.
Sal waited, refusing to lose control. Toni turned and looked at Linda then back to him. “Linda,” Sal said and she looked up at him as if she hadn‘t been listening the whole time. “Go inside, honey.” She sniffed pointedly but did as she was told. She’d make him pay for it later. He looked back at his sister’s idiot son. Toni just stared at him. “Well?” Sal demanded. “What did he say?”
“H-he says that if he doesn’t get his money b-back, he’s gonna kill Sin.”
Sal stared at his nephew, waiting for more, but Toni just continued to stare at him. “What money?!” Sal snapped. “Did you steal from this kid?”
“I wouldn’t call it stealin’!” Toni evaded. “He owed me. He stole from me so I took what was mine!”
Sal lifted a finger and pointed it at Toni’s face. “Toni, If I have to drag this out of you one word at a time I’m gonna have Vincent beat you to death! How much are we talkin’ about here?”
Toni just stared at him, looking like a little kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar.
“HOW MUCH?! YOU FAT FRAK!! HOW MUCH MONEY DID YOU STEAL?!”
“F-five hundred million,” Toni admitted.
“MILLION?!” Sal didn’t remember getting up but somehow he was on his feet. Toni was cringing in front of him. “Did you just say five hundred MILLION credits?!”
Toni’s lower chin was jiggling as he nodded.
Sal took a breath and stepped back. His hands were shaking and he didn’t trust himself to stand close enough to hit his nephew. He thought that if he did he might not stop until the boy was dead. He turned away and looked out over the islands in the bay to the south. He was missing something important here, something his moron nephew was too afraid to tell him. It didn’t make any sense.
“Toni?” he asked softly. “How did Drake Jerigan have five hundred million credits?”
“I dunno, Sally ...”
Whack! Sal didn’t even remember moving but in an instant Toni was crouched in front of him, covering his head with his arms. The back of Sal’s hand was stinging. “Don’t play games with me, boy,” Sal barely breathed the words and he forced himself to step back again.
Toni looked out from under his arm and trembled, that second chin lookin’ like a sack of jello hanging from his jaw. “They-they call him the ...” Toni took a couple of breaths working his nerve up. “They call him the ‘pirate prince.’ He was the leader of the Phantoms before the Terrans hit 'em.”
Sal felt like he’d just been doused with a bucket of ice water. He’d heard of the man, and the pirates he lead. The reporters had started calling them phantoms because they were like ghosts in deep space, appearing to capture a ship, and then vanishing. The official estimates were that they were responsible for the disappearance of over twenty heavy transports and perhaps as many as ten warships. There were other reports, though. Follow up reports claiming that the initial estimates only accounted for Argon and Boron ships and that the actual number was likely much higher. It was known that the group had annexed a sector in between Montalaar and New Income and that they’d been manufacturing weapons. That they’d grown so large that the Terrans had treated the group as a threat and moved against them. After that reports got sketchy. Some of the wilder claims suggested that these Phantoms had actually attacked the Terrans in the Sol system. It was hard to credit but Sal had seen footage of that monstrous Terran destroyer they'd parked above the trade lane in Avarice. It had reminded him of people putting the heads of their enemies on spikes.
“You’re telling me,” Sal said in a whisper, “that skinny little Drake Jerigan is the man that’s been calling the shots for the most dangerous mercenary organization since the Yaki?”
Toni just stared at him.
“And you ...” Sal was starting to feel a little dizzy. “... you went and stole five hundred million credits from this man?”
“Sally he stole from me ...”
Whack!
“What did he steal from you?! What did he steal from you that was worth the trouble you just brought down on this family?!”
“He killed one of my guys! He stole some a my product and the ship my guy was flyin’! What was I supposed to do? Just let him get away with it?”
Sal‘s voice was like a cold wind in his mouth. “You were supposed to make sure he was dead.”
“But I thought he was! They told me he was!”
“Who told you he was? When?”
“What? I dunno. My people. Like two weeks ago ...”
Sal actually trembled with the urge to cave his nephew’s skull in. “Two weeks?” He said breathlessly.
“Yeah,” Toni said, as if it was perfectly reasonable.
“You waited two weeks to make sure the man was dead?”
"How was I gonna make sure he was dead?!” Toni demanded. “It's not like there was a body lyin' around to ...!"
Sal couldn’t help himself. One moment he was staring at Toni in a state of shock. The next he was repeatedly slapping his nephew in the face and head, driving his fist into the meat of the boy’s shoulders trying to get to his face to keep beating him. After a moment he realized he was screaming. “YOU STUPID, FAT FRAK! YOU FRAKKING MORON! WE SHOULD HAVE DROWNED YOU AT BIRTH! WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU!?” When he turned around he realized he meant to dig a brick out of a garden wall to beat his nephew to death with it and instead walked away with his palms on his temples.
He walked to the outer wall of the garden and stared out at the bay. "Two weeks," he said in awe. "TWO WEEKS!” He shouted at the sky. Then whirled on his nephew again, thrusting a finger out in front of him like a dagger. “You stupid, greedy, brain dead MORON! You want to make sure he's dead?! You sit and WATCH THE MONEY! For as long as it takes! You make sure!”
He shook his head and thought about that ATF Destroyer sitting over the Avarice trade lane. The kid had been a nothing, a nobody, just a couple jazura ago, and yet he'd somehow managed to accumulate enough money, people and military assets to annex a sector and challenge both the Split and the Terrans. Sal shook his head again. He had met men like that in his life. Men for whom nothing was impossible. They were almost always charismatic, forceful leaders capable of inspiring or even coercing loyalty in their followers. They were often, but not always, intelligent. From what he'd heard of these Phantoms, though, and what he remembered of Gil Jerigan he suspected this Drake was. He wished he could remember more of the man, but all his memories provided were images of a quiet, skinny boy tagging along after Jerigan. But that was bad enough. Gil Jerigan was intelligent. The man wasn’t just shrewd, he was organized, meticulous, and a tactical genius. And for all intents and purposes this Drake had been the man’s apprentice.
Sal covered his mouth and stared at the ocean. It was a beautiful day. A brilliant turquoise sky reflected in the shining waters. A gentle breeze caressed the hills. Small white clouds eased across the far horizon. There were yachts and sailboats lazily making their way across the bay and a seaplane flyin’ low out over the water. He had hoped he would die peacefully on a day like this one. He’d never die peacefully if his son died before him.
“Toni?”
“Y-yeah, Sally?” The boy was terrified.
“Did Sin know about this?”
“Yeah! Yeah, it was his idea! Drake used Beni to set up his accounts and all we did was have Beni ...”
Sal waved him to silence. "That's how he opened that new nightclub." It wasn't a question.
"Yeah," Toni confirmed it anyway.
Sal closed his eyes. He lifted a hand to his forehead and started rubbing his temples. "How much is left?"
"Sally?"
"How much of the money is left, you frakking moron?” Sin whirled on the boy again. “What?! Do I have to spell it out for you?! How? Much? Of? The money? Is left?"
Toni‘s eyes were as wide as they could go. "N-nuthin', Sally. None of it."
"You stole five hundred million credits and you have nothin' left?" Sal was reeling. The world no longer felt real.
"Well, it’s property, now. It’s houses and a resort and the nightclub. It’s stocks and investments and ... you know ... it's in the business, Sally. It's all over the place."
"So you couldn't give it back to him even if you wanted to?"
“No,“ Toni said. “Not really. It would take months to get all that cash together again.“ Toni laughed like there was something funny. “Hell I don’t know what the guy was thinking keepin’ it all in one account ...”
Sal took a couple steps toward his nephew again. He really did want to kill the fool. “He was thinking it was his,” Sal said, and his tone was cold, “to do with as he liked.”
“Yeah but Sally, come on! I mean ...”
Slap! Toni had his hand on his face again and was cringing away from him. Sal shook his finger in the boy's face. "Do you have any idea what you've done? By stealing from this man ..."
"I didn't steal nothin, Sal ..."
Slap!
"Stop talkin' to me like I'm as stupid as you are."
Toni just stared at him with wide eyes, an open mouth, and a hand on either cheek.
"What do you think is going on here? You frakkin’ idiot! Do you think this guy is just gonna go away if you tell him you took his half a billion credits as compensation for your chump change drug deal? Do you think he’s just gonna tell you 'it’s alright,' 'it's okay,' if you say you're sorry?!" Toni just continued to stare at him. Sal shook his head in disgust and looked back out across the ocean.
He had a grand view from his yard. He was at the top of San Angelus hills looking out across the bay and even most of the lower islands. It was a beautiful area. It was warm but not hot and the breezes always reminded him of a lover's touch. He sighed heavily.
“Well ... he actually told me ... what he’s gonna do...”
Sal took a deep breath to keep his hands still and massaged the corners of his eyes. After a moment he groaned. “Would you like to share or do you want me to guess?”
“Aah ... h-he said that if he doesn’t get his money he’s gonna open the airlock Sin’s in and let him ... aah ... try and fly home.”
Sal nodded. He’d been expecting that. “What else?”
“Well the rest was bull. I mean...”
“Toni the next time I hit you I’m gonna use a brick! Now tell me what the man said to you.” He turned around and thrust a finger at him. “Don’t think! Just talk.”
“He said he was gonna nuke us.”
Sal shuddered and looked away.
“What?! Hey, Sally! He’s bluffin’! He’s got to be bluffin!”
“Toni,” Sal said, "you‘re a moron."
“How the hell is he gonna get his hands on a nuke, Sally?” Toni scoffed. “Come on! He can’t ...”
Sal shut him up with a look. “The man was building them just two weeks ago! He traded with OTAS! He built all kinds of weapons! Toni! Don’t you understand? You could not have picked a worse enemy than this man if you had done it on purpose!”
“Skinny little Drake?”
Sal just winced and looked away. "When's he supposed to contact you?"
"I dunno," Toni said. "He said he'd call after I talked with you."
Toni's pocket started ringing. As the ringing continued it started to grate on Sal's nerves. He sighed and turned back around to glare at his nephew. Toni just stared back at him with his mouth open.
"Well?!" Sal demanded.
"What?" Toni shrugged.
"Are you gonna get that?!"
"Get what?"
Again Sal trembled with the need to kill the imbecile in front of him. "Are you gonna answer that frakking call?!" Sal felt his blood pressure rising again.
"I don't have a phone," Toni said defensively.
"Well, then you're pants are ringing!" Toni just continued to stare at him. "Oh my god! Are you gonna see who that is or do I have to come over there and do it for you?!"
Toni blinked and looked down. Then he leaned back to fish the ringing phone out of his pocket. When he held it up the expression on his face could have been straight out of a cartoon. He looked at Sal and opened his mouth to say that it wasn't his.
Sal opened his hand. "Give it to me." Toni put the phone in his hand. Sal glanced down at it and then flipped it open. "Yeah?"
"Salvatore Vassar," the voice was rough and gravelly but pronounced his name correctly. "Sally the Gem. Sally the Scale. Sally the Blade. You know I've always been curious about how you earned that one.”
"Come on over and I'll show ya," Sal offered.
"You know you have another name that I’m even more curious about."
"Oh yeah?"
"Yeah. Tell me Sally, why do they call you 'the snitch?'"
"You must be Drake," Sal said.
"Yeah. I guess I must be," the voice said.
"I remember you. You were that skinny little brat that was always followin' Snake Eye around. Him and Hayla took you in after your mama OD'd on morphas, right? That was too bad. I remember your ma. She was such a beautiful girl. Once. Back before Leo started usin' her as a punching bag anyway."
"I'll have to take your word for it. In all of my memories she was already a junkie."
“Yeah,“ Sal said in mock commiseration, “addiction is a terrible thing.“
There was silence on the line for a long, uncomfortable moment.
"You know,” Sal said, “as much as I love the sound a heavy breathin' I can't help wonderin' if this conversation might be going somewhere?"
"You know the score, Sal. I've got your kid. I want my money. It can be nice and clean or it can get messy."
"Is my boy okay?"
"He's screamin' at the walls inside an airlock three hundred klicks above your head." There was a pause as the guy let that sink in. "But for the moment he's healthy."
"You take good care of him, Drake. If anything happens to him you’ll get nothing you want from me. Capisce?"
"If I get my money I'll send him back to you with a hooker swingin‘ off the end of his dick. But ..." and the word was growl. It sounded like crushed stone. "... if I don't get my money..."
"You don't want to be threatening me, Drake."
“You know what, Sally? Once upon a time you woulda’ scared me. But we’re a little past that, aren’t we? I mean you know who I am. You know what I will do if what is mine is not returned to me. So you tell me where we go from here.”
“I’m gonna need some time.”
“How much?”
“I don’t know yet. That’s a lot of dough. How do I get in touch with you?”
“Keep this phone on you. I’ll call you...”
“Drake?”
There was a pause. Then, “Yeah?”
“You take care of my son, Drake. You keep him safe.” Drake didn’t reply. A moment later the line became nothing but white noise. Sal closed the thing and put it in his pocket.
“What are we gonna do?” Toni asked.
Sal shook his head. He was thinking of that ATF Tyr again. And heads on spikes.
Glad to see I'm still contributing to your corruption.
Heh heh heh.
12. The Old Man
"Sal!" The bellowing was coming from the front of the house, near the main door. "Uncle Sal! I gotta talk to you, Sally!"
"Oh, frak me," Salvatore Vassar exhaled over his cigar. His wife was thirty jazura younger than he was. She was beautiful, curvaceous and at that moment bent over a flower bed tending to her roses. Sal had been smoking a cigar and admiring the view. At the sound of his nephew, though, he started losing all of his appetites. Linda, his wife, looked up as he cursed and then glanced at the house.
"Sally!" the bellowing continued. "Uncle Sal! Will you tell these guys to let me in?! I have to talk to you!"
Linda rolled her eyes and shook her head. Then she looked at him again and winked before turning back to her gardening. Sal exhaled and glanced at his bodyguard, Vincent. He rolled his eyes and then nodded, curling his fingers in a gesture that said, 'come on.' Vincent nodded, having trouble keeping the smirk off his face, and disappeared into the house. A moment later his nephew came through the back door like a charging bull and stumbled out onto the lawn. He was covered in sweat and his eyes and mouth were wide open.
"Uncle Sal! Uncle Sally!!" Toni charged him and came to a shifting, uncomfortable halt directly above Sal's lawn chair. "I gotta talk to you! I gotta talk...!"
"Sto-op!" Sal said, holding his hand up to shield himself. "God! You look like a fat kid chasin’ an ice cream truck! Sit down and stop drippin’ on me!" He pointed at the other lawn chair. "You're making me uncomfortable."
"Y-yeah, Sally. Sorry Sally." Toni sat down as Sal used a towel to wipe his face and arm. When he was done he glanced at Toni, not bothering to keep the distaste out of his expression.
"Well?" Sal asked, more than a little impatient. "What is it?"
"Drake," Toni panted. "It's Drake! And Sally? He's got Sin! He's got Sin, Sally!"
"Drake," Sal’s eyes narrowed as he echoed his nephew.
"Yeah, Sally." Toni’s second chin shook as he sat there staring at him. Sal already felt like slapping him.
“Who the hell is Drake?”
“You know, Sally. That kid Gil Jerigan took in. He used to do some work for us.”
It took Sal a moment. Then he looked at Toni again. “The skinny little kid with the blonde hair?”
“Yeah-yeah, that’s him.”
“What do you mean he has Sin?”
“He’s got him, Sally! He’s got him in an airlock up in space! Says ...” Toni’s eyes grew so wide Sal could see the whites all around them.
Sal waited, refusing to lose control. Toni turned and looked at Linda then back to him. “Linda,” Sal said and she looked up at him as if she hadn‘t been listening the whole time. “Go inside, honey.” She sniffed pointedly but did as she was told. She’d make him pay for it later. He looked back at his sister’s idiot son. Toni just stared at him. “Well?” Sal demanded. “What did he say?”
“H-he says that if he doesn’t get his money b-back, he’s gonna kill Sin.”
Sal stared at his nephew, waiting for more, but Toni just continued to stare at him. “What money?!” Sal snapped. “Did you steal from this kid?”
“I wouldn’t call it stealin’!” Toni evaded. “He owed me. He stole from me so I took what was mine!”
Sal lifted a finger and pointed it at Toni’s face. “Toni, If I have to drag this out of you one word at a time I’m gonna have Vincent beat you to death! How much are we talkin’ about here?”
Toni just stared at him, looking like a little kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar.
“HOW MUCH?! YOU FAT FRAK!! HOW MUCH MONEY DID YOU STEAL?!”
“F-five hundred million,” Toni admitted.
“MILLION?!” Sal didn’t remember getting up but somehow he was on his feet. Toni was cringing in front of him. “Did you just say five hundred MILLION credits?!”
Toni’s lower chin was jiggling as he nodded.
Sal took a breath and stepped back. His hands were shaking and he didn’t trust himself to stand close enough to hit his nephew. He thought that if he did he might not stop until the boy was dead. He turned away and looked out over the islands in the bay to the south. He was missing something important here, something his moron nephew was too afraid to tell him. It didn’t make any sense.
“Toni?” he asked softly. “How did Drake Jerigan have five hundred million credits?”
“I dunno, Sally ...”
Whack! Sal didn’t even remember moving but in an instant Toni was crouched in front of him, covering his head with his arms. The back of Sal’s hand was stinging. “Don’t play games with me, boy,” Sal barely breathed the words and he forced himself to step back again.
Toni looked out from under his arm and trembled, that second chin lookin’ like a sack of jello hanging from his jaw. “They-they call him the ...” Toni took a couple of breaths working his nerve up. “They call him the ‘pirate prince.’ He was the leader of the Phantoms before the Terrans hit 'em.”
Sal felt like he’d just been doused with a bucket of ice water. He’d heard of the man, and the pirates he lead. The reporters had started calling them phantoms because they were like ghosts in deep space, appearing to capture a ship, and then vanishing. The official estimates were that they were responsible for the disappearance of over twenty heavy transports and perhaps as many as ten warships. There were other reports, though. Follow up reports claiming that the initial estimates only accounted for Argon and Boron ships and that the actual number was likely much higher. It was known that the group had annexed a sector in between Montalaar and New Income and that they’d been manufacturing weapons. That they’d grown so large that the Terrans had treated the group as a threat and moved against them. After that reports got sketchy. Some of the wilder claims suggested that these Phantoms had actually attacked the Terrans in the Sol system. It was hard to credit but Sal had seen footage of that monstrous Terran destroyer they'd parked above the trade lane in Avarice. It had reminded him of people putting the heads of their enemies on spikes.
“You’re telling me,” Sal said in a whisper, “that skinny little Drake Jerigan is the man that’s been calling the shots for the most dangerous mercenary organization since the Yaki?”
Toni just stared at him.
“And you ...” Sal was starting to feel a little dizzy. “... you went and stole five hundred million credits from this man?”
“Sally he stole from me ...”
Whack!
“What did he steal from you?! What did he steal from you that was worth the trouble you just brought down on this family?!”
“He killed one of my guys! He stole some a my product and the ship my guy was flyin’! What was I supposed to do? Just let him get away with it?”
Sal‘s voice was like a cold wind in his mouth. “You were supposed to make sure he was dead.”
“But I thought he was! They told me he was!”
“Who told you he was? When?”
“What? I dunno. My people. Like two weeks ago ...”
Sal actually trembled with the urge to cave his nephew’s skull in. “Two weeks?” He said breathlessly.
“Yeah,” Toni said, as if it was perfectly reasonable.
“You waited two weeks to make sure the man was dead?”
"How was I gonna make sure he was dead?!” Toni demanded. “It's not like there was a body lyin' around to ...!"
Sal couldn’t help himself. One moment he was staring at Toni in a state of shock. The next he was repeatedly slapping his nephew in the face and head, driving his fist into the meat of the boy’s shoulders trying to get to his face to keep beating him. After a moment he realized he was screaming. “YOU STUPID, FAT FRAK! YOU FRAKKING MORON! WE SHOULD HAVE DROWNED YOU AT BIRTH! WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU!?” When he turned around he realized he meant to dig a brick out of a garden wall to beat his nephew to death with it and instead walked away with his palms on his temples.
He walked to the outer wall of the garden and stared out at the bay. "Two weeks," he said in awe. "TWO WEEKS!” He shouted at the sky. Then whirled on his nephew again, thrusting a finger out in front of him like a dagger. “You stupid, greedy, brain dead MORON! You want to make sure he's dead?! You sit and WATCH THE MONEY! For as long as it takes! You make sure!”
He shook his head and thought about that ATF Destroyer sitting over the Avarice trade lane. The kid had been a nothing, a nobody, just a couple jazura ago, and yet he'd somehow managed to accumulate enough money, people and military assets to annex a sector and challenge both the Split and the Terrans. Sal shook his head again. He had met men like that in his life. Men for whom nothing was impossible. They were almost always charismatic, forceful leaders capable of inspiring or even coercing loyalty in their followers. They were often, but not always, intelligent. From what he'd heard of these Phantoms, though, and what he remembered of Gil Jerigan he suspected this Drake was. He wished he could remember more of the man, but all his memories provided were images of a quiet, skinny boy tagging along after Jerigan. But that was bad enough. Gil Jerigan was intelligent. The man wasn’t just shrewd, he was organized, meticulous, and a tactical genius. And for all intents and purposes this Drake had been the man’s apprentice.
Sal covered his mouth and stared at the ocean. It was a beautiful day. A brilliant turquoise sky reflected in the shining waters. A gentle breeze caressed the hills. Small white clouds eased across the far horizon. There were yachts and sailboats lazily making their way across the bay and a seaplane flyin’ low out over the water. He had hoped he would die peacefully on a day like this one. He’d never die peacefully if his son died before him.
“Toni?”
“Y-yeah, Sally?” The boy was terrified.
“Did Sin know about this?”
“Yeah! Yeah, it was his idea! Drake used Beni to set up his accounts and all we did was have Beni ...”
Sal waved him to silence. "That's how he opened that new nightclub." It wasn't a question.
"Yeah," Toni confirmed it anyway.
Sal closed his eyes. He lifted a hand to his forehead and started rubbing his temples. "How much is left?"
"Sally?"
"How much of the money is left, you frakking moron?” Sin whirled on the boy again. “What?! Do I have to spell it out for you?! How? Much? Of? The money? Is left?"
Toni‘s eyes were as wide as they could go. "N-nuthin', Sally. None of it."
"You stole five hundred million credits and you have nothin' left?" Sal was reeling. The world no longer felt real.
"Well, it’s property, now. It’s houses and a resort and the nightclub. It’s stocks and investments and ... you know ... it's in the business, Sally. It's all over the place."
"So you couldn't give it back to him even if you wanted to?"
“No,“ Toni said. “Not really. It would take months to get all that cash together again.“ Toni laughed like there was something funny. “Hell I don’t know what the guy was thinking keepin’ it all in one account ...”
Sal took a couple steps toward his nephew again. He really did want to kill the fool. “He was thinking it was his,” Sal said, and his tone was cold, “to do with as he liked.”
“Yeah but Sally, come on! I mean ...”
Slap! Toni had his hand on his face again and was cringing away from him. Sal shook his finger in the boy's face. "Do you have any idea what you've done? By stealing from this man ..."
"I didn't steal nothin, Sal ..."
Slap!
"Stop talkin' to me like I'm as stupid as you are."
Toni just stared at him with wide eyes, an open mouth, and a hand on either cheek.
"What do you think is going on here? You frakkin’ idiot! Do you think this guy is just gonna go away if you tell him you took his half a billion credits as compensation for your chump change drug deal? Do you think he’s just gonna tell you 'it’s alright,' 'it's okay,' if you say you're sorry?!" Toni just continued to stare at him. Sal shook his head in disgust and looked back out across the ocean.
He had a grand view from his yard. He was at the top of San Angelus hills looking out across the bay and even most of the lower islands. It was a beautiful area. It was warm but not hot and the breezes always reminded him of a lover's touch. He sighed heavily.
“Well ... he actually told me ... what he’s gonna do...”
Sal took a deep breath to keep his hands still and massaged the corners of his eyes. After a moment he groaned. “Would you like to share or do you want me to guess?”
“Aah ... h-he said that if he doesn’t get his money he’s gonna open the airlock Sin’s in and let him ... aah ... try and fly home.”
Sal nodded. He’d been expecting that. “What else?”
“Well the rest was bull. I mean...”
“Toni the next time I hit you I’m gonna use a brick! Now tell me what the man said to you.” He turned around and thrust a finger at him. “Don’t think! Just talk.”
“He said he was gonna nuke us.”
Sal shuddered and looked away.
“What?! Hey, Sally! He’s bluffin’! He’s got to be bluffin!”
“Toni,” Sal said, "you‘re a moron."
“How the hell is he gonna get his hands on a nuke, Sally?” Toni scoffed. “Come on! He can’t ...”
Sal shut him up with a look. “The man was building them just two weeks ago! He traded with OTAS! He built all kinds of weapons! Toni! Don’t you understand? You could not have picked a worse enemy than this man if you had done it on purpose!”
“Skinny little Drake?”
Sal just winced and looked away. "When's he supposed to contact you?"
"I dunno," Toni said. "He said he'd call after I talked with you."
Toni's pocket started ringing. As the ringing continued it started to grate on Sal's nerves. He sighed and turned back around to glare at his nephew. Toni just stared back at him with his mouth open.
"Well?!" Sal demanded.
"What?" Toni shrugged.
"Are you gonna get that?!"
"Get what?"
Again Sal trembled with the need to kill the imbecile in front of him. "Are you gonna answer that frakking call?!" Sal felt his blood pressure rising again.
"I don't have a phone," Toni said defensively.
"Well, then you're pants are ringing!" Toni just continued to stare at him. "Oh my god! Are you gonna see who that is or do I have to come over there and do it for you?!"
Toni blinked and looked down. Then he leaned back to fish the ringing phone out of his pocket. When he held it up the expression on his face could have been straight out of a cartoon. He looked at Sal and opened his mouth to say that it wasn't his.
Sal opened his hand. "Give it to me." Toni put the phone in his hand. Sal glanced down at it and then flipped it open. "Yeah?"
"Salvatore Vassar," the voice was rough and gravelly but pronounced his name correctly. "Sally the Gem. Sally the Scale. Sally the Blade. You know I've always been curious about how you earned that one.”
"Come on over and I'll show ya," Sal offered.
"You know you have another name that I’m even more curious about."
"Oh yeah?"
"Yeah. Tell me Sally, why do they call you 'the snitch?'"
"You must be Drake," Sal said.
"Yeah. I guess I must be," the voice said.
"I remember you. You were that skinny little brat that was always followin' Snake Eye around. Him and Hayla took you in after your mama OD'd on morphas, right? That was too bad. I remember your ma. She was such a beautiful girl. Once. Back before Leo started usin' her as a punching bag anyway."
"I'll have to take your word for it. In all of my memories she was already a junkie."
“Yeah,“ Sal said in mock commiseration, “addiction is a terrible thing.“
There was silence on the line for a long, uncomfortable moment.
"You know,” Sal said, “as much as I love the sound a heavy breathin' I can't help wonderin' if this conversation might be going somewhere?"
"You know the score, Sal. I've got your kid. I want my money. It can be nice and clean or it can get messy."
"Is my boy okay?"
"He's screamin' at the walls inside an airlock three hundred klicks above your head." There was a pause as the guy let that sink in. "But for the moment he's healthy."
"You take good care of him, Drake. If anything happens to him you’ll get nothing you want from me. Capisce?"
"If I get my money I'll send him back to you with a hooker swingin‘ off the end of his dick. But ..." and the word was growl. It sounded like crushed stone. "... if I don't get my money..."
"You don't want to be threatening me, Drake."
“You know what, Sally? Once upon a time you woulda’ scared me. But we’re a little past that, aren’t we? I mean you know who I am. You know what I will do if what is mine is not returned to me. So you tell me where we go from here.”
“I’m gonna need some time.”
“How much?”
“I don’t know yet. That’s a lot of dough. How do I get in touch with you?”
“Keep this phone on you. I’ll call you...”
“Drake?”
There was a pause. Then, “Yeah?”
“You take care of my son, Drake. You keep him safe.” Drake didn’t reply. A moment later the line became nothing but white noise. Sal closed the thing and put it in his pocket.
“What are we gonna do?” Toni asked.
Sal shook his head. He was thinking of that ATF Tyr again. And heads on spikes.
Last edited by Scion Drakhar on Fri, 16. Jul 21, 15:35, edited 4 times in total.
-
Knucles2
- Posts: 343
- Joined: Sat, 3. Jul 04, 16:57
Wow.
I think this story is going to top your other one Sci. I never even considered there'd be "wise guys" in the X Universe
Ok, back to lurkin' n' waitin' for the next chapter...
Just, whatever you do...Don't Get Kilt!!!! ( Yes, I spelled Killed that way on purpose- I was channeling Sal )
I think this story is going to top your other one Sci. I never even considered there'd be "wise guys" in the X Universe
Ok, back to lurkin' n' waitin' for the next chapter...
Just, whatever you do...Don't Get Kilt!!!! ( Yes, I spelled Killed that way on purpose- I was channeling Sal
)X2-The threat, $20
A new gfx card to play X2- the Threat, $100
Having a wife so addicted to GTA/SA she doesn't care how much time I play X2-The threat, Priceless!
A new gfx card to play X2- the Threat, $100
Having a wife so addicted to GTA/SA she doesn't care how much time I play X2-The threat, Priceless!
-
Gosnell
- Posts: 1299
- Joined: Sun, 20. Apr 08, 19:48
-
Scion Drakhar
- Posts: 932
- Joined: Wed, 27. Oct 10, 03:15
I don't mind at all. Little of the one but more of the other. I had some of the story written as early as the first post but most of it I've been writing as I go. All of the gameplay is recorded either during or after I'm done. The fiction is harder. Creative writing is much harder and more time consuming than writing up after action reports.GOSNELL wrote:Do you mind me asking have you written all this in advance,or on the day?
A Pirate's Story.pdf(KIA) by _Zap _ From Nothing.PDF(complete) by _Zap _ Prodigal Son(active) Original Thread, Prodigal Son_PDF
-
Triaxx2
- Posts: 7229
- Joined: Tue, 29. Dec 09, 02:15
Try not to think too hard on it SD. Sometimes that's the worst way to write well. Believe me, I know.
---
It would be impossible for Salvatore Vassar to know, given the almost infinitesimally small connection between them, but H'nt c'Pu was also thinking about heads on spikes. In his case however, it wasn't nearly as metaphorical an idea, though the spike in his face was definitely a metaphor for something. Admittedly, Ea't was possibly the only person in the universe dumb enough to suggest to Vo'l'nt Goto that her captaining a Tiger was in fact compensating for something she lacked. On the other hand, he was possibly the only person in the universe likely to survive such an observation, so it balanced itself out.
H'nt had no such feeling of confidence, as lead Ea't to succeed at such acts of insane bravado, nor the utterly unshakeable acceptance of victory being a foregone conclusion, that meant he could defeat the sort of impossible odds he caused with those self same acts. Indeed, in most societies, Ea't would be somewhat heavily medicated.
In his studies of Earth and Terran culture, conducted on the advice of an ancient Terran, to 'Know your enemy', something the Split didn't bother much about, preferring to simply 'kill your enemy and move on to the next', he had discovered a term that seemed to fit Ea't as if it had been created in the past, just so it could be applied in the now, specifically to him.
Berserker. A warrior who entered battle and entered a state of battle-driven blood-lust who was all but unstoppable once started. Ea't had laughed in his usual way boisterously, and agreed that it fit him perfectly. He'd then had a plaque commissioned to hang on the Captain's chair of the Osan'Gar. It joined several others with his other titles.
All of this flashed through H'nt's mind as his Kestrel raced towards Vo'l'nt's ship. The Sword of Rhonkar was the latest model of Tiger. Vo'l'nt was as different from Ea't as H'nt himself. Where Ea't is a brute force warrior, relying on speed and sheer power to achieve his objectives, Vo'l'nt is a master of using skill and finesse to make the her opponent do him or herself in.
Many are surprised to learn that the pair are both Master Duelists. Those who bear witness to their contests often wonder if he's even received training. Ea't chose to learn Chi'drath'anian a Jatra form emphasizing power and speed in close quarters. To an untrained eye, it appears to be little more than a knife brawl.
Vo'l'nt instead decided on Ald'et'dithen, a form emphasizing grace, and influence and deception. And using the opponents own motion. From a distance it looks to be a blend of Terran Fencing and Judo.
H'nt had seen them fight several times, and each time, they'd spent a long time trying very hard, and achieving very little. Always it had come down to one or two movements that to the untrained eye would seem unimportant, or perfectly acceptable within the norms of a form. To a trained observer, or experienced one, the latter of which H'nt counted himself, they were incredibly subtle telegraphs of a series of moves played out in the head of one combatant or the other. While less experienced warriors did it subconsciously, H'nt had never seen either of his siblings do it in contest against any others. Even so, it almost invariably proved itself to be a feint.
One or the other would set a trap and try to lure the opponent into it. Usually they managed to turn the trap around. H'nt privately suspected that his brother's limp was caused by a deliberate loss to garner the information he needed.
Entering transporter range, H'nt could barely keep thinking about heads on spikes however. Vo'l'nt's walls were lined with heads, mounted on platforms designed to mimic the look of a head on a pike, while not loosing any of the interest. Wild beasts and fish from dozens of worlds decorated her residence, both aboard the massive warship and her home on Family Pride itself.
In her private studies though, she displayed the heads of vanquished sentients. Or at least holographical representations there of, for instances where the head was unrecoverable.
H'nt had no wish to join that collection, but he had no where else to turn. Drake had made many enemies, including the Split, and yet no one else had the power to protect him except the Split. H'nt was granted permission, and beamed aboard the Sword. Once aboard, he ordered the Kestrel to maintain a position relative to the Sword. He knew if she really wanted him dead, the Kestrel wouldn't last long under the flak cannons of the Tiger, but it was worth a shot.
Vo'l'nt was on the bridge and H'nt walked to the door. Outwardly he displayed none of the nervousness he felt inside. Many Split felt that fear should be controlled to be overcome, but if you couldn't control it, it was next best to let no one see it.
The door to the bridge folded open, two layers moving in opposition to one another. The two layers were slightly off-set so that the intervening space could be filled with a flammable gas, so that if an enemy combatant tried to cut through the doors, they'd ignite the gas and it would turn into an immense flamethrower. H'nt knew that because he'd helped design the same system for the Panther.
"Greetings sister." That was all H'nt said. The captains chair revolved slowly around, revealing Vo'l'nt Goto. She stood, crossed the room, then threw her arms around her brother.
"Welcome home Little Brother." she said it in a soft voice that none of the others could hear. Then she stepped back and spoke loudly. "Greetings brother."
"I seek refuge under the old codes of hearth and hospitality." H'nt spoke. It was a formal invocation of a rite of protection forged back when the clans had made war across the surface of their homelands. It was still up held legally within the Split codes of law and honor. Technically as family it was automatic, but a formal declaration would solidify it, and keep Tkr and Njy from having a leg to stand on should they realize he was a part of Drakhar Enterprises, and attempt to get reparations from him. With Vo'l'nt apart of Rhonkar's home guards, her grant of refuge would apply also to Rhonkar.
"Under the old codes of hearth and hospitality, I grant you refuge. I and my liege shall ensure that no harm comes to you lest we be already dead before." She slammed her hand over her heart. "Now, we have much to discuss. Chu'val, take the chair. Don't bother me if it's not important."
"Aye Captain." the split who took a seat in the captain's chair was surprisingly short. H'nt held back questioning if he could even see over the console. The chair rose in place so he could. H'nt followed Vo'l'nt into her office.
---
It would be impossible for Salvatore Vassar to know, given the almost infinitesimally small connection between them, but H'nt c'Pu was also thinking about heads on spikes. In his case however, it wasn't nearly as metaphorical an idea, though the spike in his face was definitely a metaphor for something. Admittedly, Ea't was possibly the only person in the universe dumb enough to suggest to Vo'l'nt Goto that her captaining a Tiger was in fact compensating for something she lacked. On the other hand, he was possibly the only person in the universe likely to survive such an observation, so it balanced itself out.
H'nt had no such feeling of confidence, as lead Ea't to succeed at such acts of insane bravado, nor the utterly unshakeable acceptance of victory being a foregone conclusion, that meant he could defeat the sort of impossible odds he caused with those self same acts. Indeed, in most societies, Ea't would be somewhat heavily medicated.
In his studies of Earth and Terran culture, conducted on the advice of an ancient Terran, to 'Know your enemy', something the Split didn't bother much about, preferring to simply 'kill your enemy and move on to the next', he had discovered a term that seemed to fit Ea't as if it had been created in the past, just so it could be applied in the now, specifically to him.
Berserker. A warrior who entered battle and entered a state of battle-driven blood-lust who was all but unstoppable once started. Ea't had laughed in his usual way boisterously, and agreed that it fit him perfectly. He'd then had a plaque commissioned to hang on the Captain's chair of the Osan'Gar. It joined several others with his other titles.
All of this flashed through H'nt's mind as his Kestrel raced towards Vo'l'nt's ship. The Sword of Rhonkar was the latest model of Tiger. Vo'l'nt was as different from Ea't as H'nt himself. Where Ea't is a brute force warrior, relying on speed and sheer power to achieve his objectives, Vo'l'nt is a master of using skill and finesse to make the her opponent do him or herself in.
Many are surprised to learn that the pair are both Master Duelists. Those who bear witness to their contests often wonder if he's even received training. Ea't chose to learn Chi'drath'anian a Jatra form emphasizing power and speed in close quarters. To an untrained eye, it appears to be little more than a knife brawl.
Vo'l'nt instead decided on Ald'et'dithen, a form emphasizing grace, and influence and deception. And using the opponents own motion. From a distance it looks to be a blend of Terran Fencing and Judo.
H'nt had seen them fight several times, and each time, they'd spent a long time trying very hard, and achieving very little. Always it had come down to one or two movements that to the untrained eye would seem unimportant, or perfectly acceptable within the norms of a form. To a trained observer, or experienced one, the latter of which H'nt counted himself, they were incredibly subtle telegraphs of a series of moves played out in the head of one combatant or the other. While less experienced warriors did it subconsciously, H'nt had never seen either of his siblings do it in contest against any others. Even so, it almost invariably proved itself to be a feint.
One or the other would set a trap and try to lure the opponent into it. Usually they managed to turn the trap around. H'nt privately suspected that his brother's limp was caused by a deliberate loss to garner the information he needed.
Entering transporter range, H'nt could barely keep thinking about heads on spikes however. Vo'l'nt's walls were lined with heads, mounted on platforms designed to mimic the look of a head on a pike, while not loosing any of the interest. Wild beasts and fish from dozens of worlds decorated her residence, both aboard the massive warship and her home on Family Pride itself.
In her private studies though, she displayed the heads of vanquished sentients. Or at least holographical representations there of, for instances where the head was unrecoverable.
H'nt had no wish to join that collection, but he had no where else to turn. Drake had made many enemies, including the Split, and yet no one else had the power to protect him except the Split. H'nt was granted permission, and beamed aboard the Sword. Once aboard, he ordered the Kestrel to maintain a position relative to the Sword. He knew if she really wanted him dead, the Kestrel wouldn't last long under the flak cannons of the Tiger, but it was worth a shot.
Vo'l'nt was on the bridge and H'nt walked to the door. Outwardly he displayed none of the nervousness he felt inside. Many Split felt that fear should be controlled to be overcome, but if you couldn't control it, it was next best to let no one see it.
The door to the bridge folded open, two layers moving in opposition to one another. The two layers were slightly off-set so that the intervening space could be filled with a flammable gas, so that if an enemy combatant tried to cut through the doors, they'd ignite the gas and it would turn into an immense flamethrower. H'nt knew that because he'd helped design the same system for the Panther.
"Greetings sister." That was all H'nt said. The captains chair revolved slowly around, revealing Vo'l'nt Goto. She stood, crossed the room, then threw her arms around her brother.
"Welcome home Little Brother." she said it in a soft voice that none of the others could hear. Then she stepped back and spoke loudly. "Greetings brother."
"I seek refuge under the old codes of hearth and hospitality." H'nt spoke. It was a formal invocation of a rite of protection forged back when the clans had made war across the surface of their homelands. It was still up held legally within the Split codes of law and honor. Technically as family it was automatic, but a formal declaration would solidify it, and keep Tkr and Njy from having a leg to stand on should they realize he was a part of Drakhar Enterprises, and attempt to get reparations from him. With Vo'l'nt apart of Rhonkar's home guards, her grant of refuge would apply also to Rhonkar.
"Under the old codes of hearth and hospitality, I grant you refuge. I and my liege shall ensure that no harm comes to you lest we be already dead before." She slammed her hand over her heart. "Now, we have much to discuss. Chu'val, take the chair. Don't bother me if it's not important."
"Aye Captain." the split who took a seat in the captain's chair was surprisingly short. H'nt held back questioning if he could even see over the console. The chair rose in place so he could. H'nt followed Vo'l'nt into her office.
A Pirate's Revenge Completed Now in PDF by _Zap_
APR Book 2: Best Served Cold Updated 8/5/2016
The Tale of Ea't s'Quid Completed
Dovie'andi se tovya sagain
APR Book 2: Best Served Cold Updated 8/5/2016
The Tale of Ea't s'Quid Completed
Dovie'andi se tovya sagain
-
Darshu
- Posts: 1085
- Joined: Sun, 11. Jan 04, 02:13
-
Falkirion
- Posts: 105
- Joined: Mon, 4. Jan 10, 10:16
I don't think Sal will given what we've seen of his attitude towards his work so far. He, like Drake (at least from my perspective) will protect his own come hell or high water. So I doubt there'll be any quick ones pulled. Toni on the other hand, he'd do that. Will be interesting to see where Scion goes with the next entry.
And Scion man what a fracking update. It was absolutely riveting reading.
And Scion man what a fracking update. It was absolutely riveting reading.
-
Scion Drakhar
- Posts: 932
- Joined: Wed, 27. Oct 10, 03:15
Previous Chapter / Next Chapter
Thanks guys. I will refrain from comment for the moment, just know responses like yours are why I write.
I'm loving it, Triaxx. Very good, mate. Very good.
Oh, and aah ... sorry GOSNELL. I guess it's er ... 10:15 + 5 hours ... 3AM there? Heh heh heh.
13. Hurry up and Wait
Well, I’m on the bridge with a cup of coffee and a good wait ahead of me. Gin and Seldon are on their way back from the planet. They’d hacked into Toni’s monitor for me, planted the bug in his pocket and then tracked him to Sal’s house. Then they’d stayed close enough to relay the feed to me. It really was a brilliant idea to plant that thing on Toni. I wish I could take the credit for it but I’d never have thought to use the transporter beam to do it. I mean shit! That’s like pickin’ a man’s pocket from five kilometers away. I still can’t believe Gin was able to do it. I’m glad she’s on my side.
I wish I could be more sure about the old man. Tryin’ to guess which way he’ll jump is a bit scary. Considerin’ his history all I can come up with is that it’ll probably be where I least expect. He’s cagey, and dangerous. I’d been sure he’d know who I was, once the dots were connected for him. It makes certain things simpler. I shouldn’t have to actually demonstrate my resolve. Which is good. Even with a police license settin’ off nukes on Argon Prime could have some unpleasant repercussions. On the other hand Sal isn’t likely to underestimate me, and that isn’t so good.
I don’t expect to remain in Argon Prime for long. Not in a barely functional TL with twenty five hundred people on board anyway. Not with Sal Vassar lookin’ for ways to take his son back and maybe vent me out an airlock in the process. It’s somethin’ I might do, in his shoes. Use an anonymous civilian transport or trader to drop a jump beacon next to the target. Then jump a corvette and a missile boat in with a couple teams of good marines on board. Hmmm. That gives me an idea.
*****
Right. I sent a message to Gunny t’Kt, who seems to have replaced Calon Bro as my head of security. I asked him to make some preparations in case we’re boarded. One of which I intend to make Sal aware of the next time I talk with him.
I’m lookin’ at the Tenjin’s navigational data. They’re still in the atmosphere. Even if they were comin’ straight back it’d still take ’em the better part of a stazura to make the trip, and they aren’t comin’ straight back. I gave Gin permission to take some time to give Seldon some instruction. It’s not generosity. I expect to be able to use fighter pilots in the future and Gin‘s one of the best I‘ve ever seen. If she feels like teachin’ I intend to let her.
Right. I do wish I had more than just the one Tenjin to defend this ship with. Of course I don’t think I’d be happy with less than a fully loaded carrier battle group complete with a few frigates, half a dozen corvettes and enough fighters to blot out the stars. Instead I’ve got a Tenjin and a TL that can’t even fire it’s own guns. I need to hire a crew. Unfortunately there was some sort of mix up with my guild ranks and the Argon military currently won’t let me.* So that’s somethin’ else I’ve gotta straighten out as soon as possible.
I’ve had that Mercury sellin’ off the Silicon and Argnu beef that we’d picked up durin’ my piracy yesterday. It seems to have finished the job and sittin’ here starin’ at it I find myself missin’ the passive income from my factories. I don’t have a factory anymore but I do have an extra large Mercury super freighter and maybe I can get it doin’ the same thing, if on a much smaller scale. Now there are some very profitable sectors in the universe for a trader to work. Unfortunately I have lots of enemies who would consider it well worth their while to destroy one of my freighters. So I think I’d like to keep my all-but-completely-defenseless ship in a sector where there aren’t a whole lot of enemies. I think I’d also like it to operate with as little oversight from me as possible. That means hirin’ a pilot who can, hopefully, think for his own damn self. So I’ve decided to send it over to Ianamus Zura for the sensors and software necessary to make it an independent trader.
Now I seem to have nothin’ to do but drink this coffee and ignore my messages.
*****
So, the Merc got itself outfitted with best buy/sell and trade software and then I hired a pilot for it. His name is Assistant Courier Kerol Cheram and he’s young, enthusiastic, and completely without experience. Experienced traders are rarely out of work. Anyway I’ve got him trading meatsteaks in Ringo Moon where he seems to be able to stay occupied without callin’ me after every trip. Eh, we’ll see how long that lasts.
So, once I got Cheram settled in and makin’ me money Gin and Seldon were back and I went to work myself. I picked up a couple peaceful jobs in the form a some courier work for a Split and transport for a couple of Teladi, but mostly I just killed people. It pays well. I’m good at it. I seem to have developed a taste for it. But most of all each kill gets me one step closer to the point where the Argon will let me hire military personnel. Which is bloody essential.
Eventually I found myself thinkin’ about returnin’ to the pirate sectors to pick on the freight trade. I need weapons and shields and findin’ free stuff to sell is always a plus. Of course that’s when it occurred to me that with the Mercury workin’ as a trader I’d need another ship to pick up after me. Perhaps even one better suited to the job. So I started reviewin’ the freighters I stashed away on my trip back from the Maelstrom. I’ve got two Dolphins, a Mercury, and an Express. Or at least I thought I did. I can find the Dolphins and the Express but I can’t find the Merc. After checkin’ my message log it seems it was destroyed in Treasure Chest, but there’s no mention of how. So I’ve got a choice between the Dolphins and that Express I stashed in Black Hole Sun. It’s not a difficult choice. The Dolphin’s are both super freighters and thus have the ability to transport enormous quantities of cargo, but they’re unarmed and slow. So I thought I’d use the Express, but even though it has, at least potentially, a pretty good top speed it’s only got the ability to carry seven hundred and fifty units of cargo, meanin’ that if somebody dumps a couple thousand energy cells or a hold full of ore or silicon I won’t be able to pick much up at all. It’s also in terrible shape. It really is. I don’t even know if it’s worth fixin’. Either way, though, I decided I was gonna get it and the others to some shipyards for either repair or sale.
So I returned to the Endless and coordinated a rendezvous with the Dolphin that still had a jumpdrive on it. We jumped to Light of Heart and had the Dolphin jump in behind us. After strippin’ it of everythin’ that could come off it I sent the thing on to meet the other one at the shipyard. After that we jumped to Black Hole Sun to collect the Express I’d stashed at the Military Outpost. The sector was in trouble, though. The Xenon were riled up and the Pirates were busy takin’ advantage of the situation. I couldn’t blame the pirates, really. I’ve done the same once or twice. So when the Military Outpost hired me to kill the Xenon and the pirates both, it wasn’t that I did my job with hard feelin’s. I just did my job.
Once the sector was safe I brought the Express out to receive the jumpdrive I’d scavenged from the Dolphin and enough energy to get it to the shipyard in Omly. Then I led the way in the Tenjin to ensure that there was no massive battle currently ragin’ across the sector. When I was comfortable we weren’t gonna come under immediate attack I called in the other two ships, sendin’ the Express to the shipyard and the Endless to a spot above the center of the sector to park a satellite. Then I waited. The Express was in terrible shape and only capable of 18m/s at it‘s very best speed. So it really was a wait. While I waited I collected the reserve jumpdrive and tucked it away on Legion’s Mamba Sentinel. I also sent the Rapier down to collect some of the software from the Express, and even paid the 3200 credits to have the scout overhauled. So at least one of my ships is now in decent repair.
While all that was goin’ on and I was waitin’ for Rapier to be repaired and the Express to reach the shipyard I started lookin’ over what the sector had to offer. Which is when I got into a conversation with a fella named Gazz at teh equipment dock about some new software. I don’t know if he was Argon or Terran but he wasn’t flyin’ any flags so I didn’t ask. The software is called MARS Fire Control and seems to have three main functions. It’s primary job is to control a ship’s turrets to select targets they can hit and make sure they hit what they‘re aimin‘ at. With a good crew and some additional weapons it’ll even automatically swap big and slow weapons for small and fast ones if the big ones can’t hit a target, and then back again for the targets they can. Which all results in a drastically more dangerous ship. Which of course sounded good to me.
It’s secondary and tertiary jobs seemed to go hand in hand. In addition to dramatically increasin’ the threat a ship’s guns can pose to enemies MARS is designed to use all available resources to protect the ship from incomin’ missiles, includin’ the use of upgraded fighter drones which it sends out to intercept inbound missiles and further reduce the chance of any gettin’ through. He explained that through target acquisition and weapon selection MARS could create a very effective missile screen but with the drones it could extend that screen dramatically. He explained that the upgraded fighter drones, which he was callin’ “Goblins,” are upgraded with much more sophisticated AI designed to work both with the ship and with each other in real time. In addition to defendin’ the ship from missiles these Goblins will intercept and distract groups of enemies. They will also apparently lure enemies into traps by retreating when attacked and drawing their attackers either into range of the mothership’s guns or into a trap where the other Goblins can gangbang ‘em. They can also enact repairs on their mothership and even salvage cargo. Either one of which sounds extremely handy. As he was talkin’ I realized that this was what the pirate capitals in the Maelstrom had been usin’ to counter my torpedoes. So havin’ seen it in action I was impressed already. Now, without a crew to maintain the Endless’ guns the turret control is currently useless to me, but I have to admit that I was curious about the enhanced fighter drones. So I bought it and had it installed on the Endless. If it works the way he says it does just the ability to use drones to salvage cargo in hostile situations could be worth a fortune. I honestly can’t wait to see it in action.
When the Express finally docked at the shipyard I just sold it. I’m thinkin’ that I want a real freighter, maybe MARS equipped with some fighter drones to clean up after me. If it works the way that fella said it would I expect piracy to become a lot easier. But I want a ship with a decent sized cargo hold but I won’t have a Dolphin. To me flyin’ one of those is like beggin’ for a beatin’ and I just won’t do it. The other problem is that there seems to be a sudden shortage of 25mj shields in the universe. The shipyard isn’t offerin’ L variants of anythin’ and despite searchin’ my still-rather-pitiful sat net I can’t find even one for sale. Which means either gettin’ back into the good graces of either the Split and the Paranid or findin’ some to steal. I decided to think about it for a little while.
While I was thinkin’ I returned to Light of Heart, where both of my Dolphins have arrived at the shipyard. One of them has some combat software and a cargo life support system that I hadn’t noticed earlier so I sent Seldon down in the Rapier to collect ‘em. So once again I found myself waitin’.
That’s when I noticed a comm beacon for a combat pilot at one of the cahoona bakeries. The bakery was a long way to the south so I left the Endless with Gin and took the Tenjin to see if it was a job worth takin’. It was. For more than just one reason. First of all, it was for a Split. Now I’m not exactly tryin’ to beg my way back into Rhonkar’s good graces. I’m more than willin’ to continue killin’ members of Families Njy and Tkr and just as happy as ever to capture their ships ... but I also don’t exactly have a problem huntin’ down and killin’ a Boron pirate for ‘em either, and if that wins me back the ability to trade with ‘em well that’s just fine with me. One point six million credits isn’t hard to swallow either.
So I took the job. I sent a quick explanation to the Endless and then jumped to the north gate in Hatikvah’s Faith. The instant I exited the gate I flipped end for end and shot back through, headin’ north into Split territory for the first time since the Terrans destroyed my fleet and factories. On the other side of the gate I was greeted by a relatively serene sector. Everythin’ was bracketed in a calm greyish blue instead of the angry red I was half convinced would be waitin’ for me. Once again it occurred to me that Rhonkar was makin’ overtures of peace. The thought put a smile on my face. It meant that Njy and their Tkr cronies had apparently failed to convince the Patriarch to pursue and destroy me. Well, either that or it was a trap.
Either way, though, I had a job to do. Nobody was shootin’ at me and there was 1.6 million credits waitin‘ for me to kill a pirate. So I found my target nearly sixty kilometers away. He ... or she, or whatever the hell a Lar is, was sat in a Nova Raider near the west gate. As I got close enough for my sensors to start feedin’ me info I saw half a dozen pirates flyin’ with that Boron. None of ‘em were sat in anythin’ smaller’n a Scorpion. It wasn’t the kind of situation that I wanted to get any closer to than I absolutely had to. I have to admit it was intimidatin’ lookin’ at all those ships. If they’d been just scouts I wouldn’t have thought twice about it, but lookin’ at four heavies and three interceptors made me nervous.
It’s a good thing I have missiles. I scooted about fifteen klicks to the south and let the whole group go by. Then I snuck in behind ‘em, targeted that Boron and buggered it with four wasps, four silkworms and one thunderbolt. As the last missile left the tubes I fell back and banked away from the other pirates. It was a good kill. The wasps distracted the Nova’s turret and the Silkworms and Thunderbolt made it through. When the thunderbolt hit the blast radius destroyed two of the m4’s and one of the m3’s as well. While the rest were still reelin’ an entire wing of Strong Arm escort fighters launched from a passin’ TM, and a handful of military fighters crashed into ‘em from the north. Since the odds were substantially less one sided now I decided to help out and in short order most of those pirates were slag. One of ‘em was even smart enough to eject and leave me his Scorpion.
They’d also left a fair number of missiles lyin’ about so I called in the Endless, and sent her toward the center of the sector to place a satellite. Now I had a hold full of energy cells right then and was initially thinkin’ that I’d have to make a couple of trips to and from the Endless to collect all the missiles. So I was very pleased when I looked up and saw eight fighter drones from the Endless bearin’ down on the scattered crates to begin salvagin’ all the valuables in the trade lane. Before I made it back to the Endless to unload, those drones had cleaned up. I was impressed. Watchin’ ‘em in action I decided that for any piracy I intended to commit in the future I would definitely have a freighter equipped with MARS and some of those drones for cleanup.
I was then hired to protect several factories from pirates. Durin’ the course of the first one two more pilots ejected from their ships. One of them left a Falcon with 87% hull and the other a Buster Hauler with 83% hull. The second mission left no ships for me but did provide a large number of missiles for the Goblins to pick up. Again, I have to say that watchin’ those drones made me very happy. I think that was seventy thousand very well spent credits.
Anyway, there were a couple more perks compensatin’ me for these jobs. The most obvious was that the Split were once again demonstratin’ an uncharacteristic willingness to forgive and forget, despite our past differences, although they still won’t sell me anythin’. I guess I still have a long way to go before they’re willin’ to risk puttin’ weapons and shields and turbo boosters and, heh, the transport beam extensions for boardin’ ops in my hands. I guess they’re still wonderin’ if I’ll turn the things they sell me back on them. I can’t blame ‘em, although it is inconvenient. But the other perk makes up for it. After all the killin’ I’ve done today I seem to have earned my way to the fight rank of r17, Fighter Chief, which will ... finally ... allow me to start hirin’ a crew for the Endless. So after the sector was cleaned up and all the fighters had been collected, the Endless and I jumped to Aladna Hill to dock at the Military Outpost and await the military transports carryin’ the personnel I need so badly.
So here I am, waitin’ again. It seems to be the theme a the day.
Thanks guys. I will refrain from comment for the moment, just know responses like yours are why I write.
I'm loving it, Triaxx. Very good, mate. Very good.
Oh, and aah ... sorry GOSNELL. I guess it's er ... 10:15 + 5 hours ... 3AM there? Heh heh heh.
13. Hurry up and Wait
Well, I’m on the bridge with a cup of coffee and a good wait ahead of me. Gin and Seldon are on their way back from the planet. They’d hacked into Toni’s monitor for me, planted the bug in his pocket and then tracked him to Sal’s house. Then they’d stayed close enough to relay the feed to me. It really was a brilliant idea to plant that thing on Toni. I wish I could take the credit for it but I’d never have thought to use the transporter beam to do it. I mean shit! That’s like pickin’ a man’s pocket from five kilometers away. I still can’t believe Gin was able to do it. I’m glad she’s on my side.
I wish I could be more sure about the old man. Tryin’ to guess which way he’ll jump is a bit scary. Considerin’ his history all I can come up with is that it’ll probably be where I least expect. He’s cagey, and dangerous. I’d been sure he’d know who I was, once the dots were connected for him. It makes certain things simpler. I shouldn’t have to actually demonstrate my resolve. Which is good. Even with a police license settin’ off nukes on Argon Prime could have some unpleasant repercussions. On the other hand Sal isn’t likely to underestimate me, and that isn’t so good.
I don’t expect to remain in Argon Prime for long. Not in a barely functional TL with twenty five hundred people on board anyway. Not with Sal Vassar lookin’ for ways to take his son back and maybe vent me out an airlock in the process. It’s somethin’ I might do, in his shoes. Use an anonymous civilian transport or trader to drop a jump beacon next to the target. Then jump a corvette and a missile boat in with a couple teams of good marines on board. Hmmm. That gives me an idea.
*****
Right. I sent a message to Gunny t’Kt, who seems to have replaced Calon Bro as my head of security. I asked him to make some preparations in case we’re boarded. One of which I intend to make Sal aware of the next time I talk with him.
I’m lookin’ at the Tenjin’s navigational data. They’re still in the atmosphere. Even if they were comin’ straight back it’d still take ’em the better part of a stazura to make the trip, and they aren’t comin’ straight back. I gave Gin permission to take some time to give Seldon some instruction. It’s not generosity. I expect to be able to use fighter pilots in the future and Gin‘s one of the best I‘ve ever seen. If she feels like teachin’ I intend to let her.
Right. I do wish I had more than just the one Tenjin to defend this ship with. Of course I don’t think I’d be happy with less than a fully loaded carrier battle group complete with a few frigates, half a dozen corvettes and enough fighters to blot out the stars. Instead I’ve got a Tenjin and a TL that can’t even fire it’s own guns. I need to hire a crew. Unfortunately there was some sort of mix up with my guild ranks and the Argon military currently won’t let me.* So that’s somethin’ else I’ve gotta straighten out as soon as possible.
I’ve had that Mercury sellin’ off the Silicon and Argnu beef that we’d picked up durin’ my piracy yesterday. It seems to have finished the job and sittin’ here starin’ at it I find myself missin’ the passive income from my factories. I don’t have a factory anymore but I do have an extra large Mercury super freighter and maybe I can get it doin’ the same thing, if on a much smaller scale. Now there are some very profitable sectors in the universe for a trader to work. Unfortunately I have lots of enemies who would consider it well worth their while to destroy one of my freighters. So I think I’d like to keep my all-but-completely-defenseless ship in a sector where there aren’t a whole lot of enemies. I think I’d also like it to operate with as little oversight from me as possible. That means hirin’ a pilot who can, hopefully, think for his own damn self. So I’ve decided to send it over to Ianamus Zura for the sensors and software necessary to make it an independent trader.
Now I seem to have nothin’ to do but drink this coffee and ignore my messages.
*****
So, the Merc got itself outfitted with best buy/sell and trade software and then I hired a pilot for it. His name is Assistant Courier Kerol Cheram and he’s young, enthusiastic, and completely without experience. Experienced traders are rarely out of work. Anyway I’ve got him trading meatsteaks in Ringo Moon where he seems to be able to stay occupied without callin’ me after every trip. Eh, we’ll see how long that lasts.
So, once I got Cheram settled in and makin’ me money Gin and Seldon were back and I went to work myself. I picked up a couple peaceful jobs in the form a some courier work for a Split and transport for a couple of Teladi, but mostly I just killed people. It pays well. I’m good at it. I seem to have developed a taste for it. But most of all each kill gets me one step closer to the point where the Argon will let me hire military personnel. Which is bloody essential.
Eventually I found myself thinkin’ about returnin’ to the pirate sectors to pick on the freight trade. I need weapons and shields and findin’ free stuff to sell is always a plus. Of course that’s when it occurred to me that with the Mercury workin’ as a trader I’d need another ship to pick up after me. Perhaps even one better suited to the job. So I started reviewin’ the freighters I stashed away on my trip back from the Maelstrom. I’ve got two Dolphins, a Mercury, and an Express. Or at least I thought I did. I can find the Dolphins and the Express but I can’t find the Merc. After checkin’ my message log it seems it was destroyed in Treasure Chest, but there’s no mention of how. So I’ve got a choice between the Dolphins and that Express I stashed in Black Hole Sun. It’s not a difficult choice. The Dolphin’s are both super freighters and thus have the ability to transport enormous quantities of cargo, but they’re unarmed and slow. So I thought I’d use the Express, but even though it has, at least potentially, a pretty good top speed it’s only got the ability to carry seven hundred and fifty units of cargo, meanin’ that if somebody dumps a couple thousand energy cells or a hold full of ore or silicon I won’t be able to pick much up at all. It’s also in terrible shape. It really is. I don’t even know if it’s worth fixin’. Either way, though, I decided I was gonna get it and the others to some shipyards for either repair or sale.
So I returned to the Endless and coordinated a rendezvous with the Dolphin that still had a jumpdrive on it. We jumped to Light of Heart and had the Dolphin jump in behind us. After strippin’ it of everythin’ that could come off it I sent the thing on to meet the other one at the shipyard. After that we jumped to Black Hole Sun to collect the Express I’d stashed at the Military Outpost. The sector was in trouble, though. The Xenon were riled up and the Pirates were busy takin’ advantage of the situation. I couldn’t blame the pirates, really. I’ve done the same once or twice. So when the Military Outpost hired me to kill the Xenon and the pirates both, it wasn’t that I did my job with hard feelin’s. I just did my job.
Once the sector was safe I brought the Express out to receive the jumpdrive I’d scavenged from the Dolphin and enough energy to get it to the shipyard in Omly. Then I led the way in the Tenjin to ensure that there was no massive battle currently ragin’ across the sector. When I was comfortable we weren’t gonna come under immediate attack I called in the other two ships, sendin’ the Express to the shipyard and the Endless to a spot above the center of the sector to park a satellite. Then I waited. The Express was in terrible shape and only capable of 18m/s at it‘s very best speed. So it really was a wait. While I waited I collected the reserve jumpdrive and tucked it away on Legion’s Mamba Sentinel. I also sent the Rapier down to collect some of the software from the Express, and even paid the 3200 credits to have the scout overhauled. So at least one of my ships is now in decent repair.
While all that was goin’ on and I was waitin’ for Rapier to be repaired and the Express to reach the shipyard I started lookin’ over what the sector had to offer. Which is when I got into a conversation with a fella named Gazz at teh equipment dock about some new software. I don’t know if he was Argon or Terran but he wasn’t flyin’ any flags so I didn’t ask. The software is called MARS Fire Control and seems to have three main functions. It’s primary job is to control a ship’s turrets to select targets they can hit and make sure they hit what they‘re aimin‘ at. With a good crew and some additional weapons it’ll even automatically swap big and slow weapons for small and fast ones if the big ones can’t hit a target, and then back again for the targets they can. Which all results in a drastically more dangerous ship. Which of course sounded good to me.
It’s secondary and tertiary jobs seemed to go hand in hand. In addition to dramatically increasin’ the threat a ship’s guns can pose to enemies MARS is designed to use all available resources to protect the ship from incomin’ missiles, includin’ the use of upgraded fighter drones which it sends out to intercept inbound missiles and further reduce the chance of any gettin’ through. He explained that through target acquisition and weapon selection MARS could create a very effective missile screen but with the drones it could extend that screen dramatically. He explained that the upgraded fighter drones, which he was callin’ “Goblins,” are upgraded with much more sophisticated AI designed to work both with the ship and with each other in real time. In addition to defendin’ the ship from missiles these Goblins will intercept and distract groups of enemies. They will also apparently lure enemies into traps by retreating when attacked and drawing their attackers either into range of the mothership’s guns or into a trap where the other Goblins can gangbang ‘em. They can also enact repairs on their mothership and even salvage cargo. Either one of which sounds extremely handy. As he was talkin’ I realized that this was what the pirate capitals in the Maelstrom had been usin’ to counter my torpedoes. So havin’ seen it in action I was impressed already. Now, without a crew to maintain the Endless’ guns the turret control is currently useless to me, but I have to admit that I was curious about the enhanced fighter drones. So I bought it and had it installed on the Endless. If it works the way he says it does just the ability to use drones to salvage cargo in hostile situations could be worth a fortune. I honestly can’t wait to see it in action.
When the Express finally docked at the shipyard I just sold it. I’m thinkin’ that I want a real freighter, maybe MARS equipped with some fighter drones to clean up after me. If it works the way that fella said it would I expect piracy to become a lot easier. But I want a ship with a decent sized cargo hold but I won’t have a Dolphin. To me flyin’ one of those is like beggin’ for a beatin’ and I just won’t do it. The other problem is that there seems to be a sudden shortage of 25mj shields in the universe. The shipyard isn’t offerin’ L variants of anythin’ and despite searchin’ my still-rather-pitiful sat net I can’t find even one for sale. Which means either gettin’ back into the good graces of either the Split and the Paranid or findin’ some to steal. I decided to think about it for a little while.
While I was thinkin’ I returned to Light of Heart, where both of my Dolphins have arrived at the shipyard. One of them has some combat software and a cargo life support system that I hadn’t noticed earlier so I sent Seldon down in the Rapier to collect ‘em. So once again I found myself waitin’.
That’s when I noticed a comm beacon for a combat pilot at one of the cahoona bakeries. The bakery was a long way to the south so I left the Endless with Gin and took the Tenjin to see if it was a job worth takin’. It was. For more than just one reason. First of all, it was for a Split. Now I’m not exactly tryin’ to beg my way back into Rhonkar’s good graces. I’m more than willin’ to continue killin’ members of Families Njy and Tkr and just as happy as ever to capture their ships ... but I also don’t exactly have a problem huntin’ down and killin’ a Boron pirate for ‘em either, and if that wins me back the ability to trade with ‘em well that’s just fine with me. One point six million credits isn’t hard to swallow either.
So I took the job. I sent a quick explanation to the Endless and then jumped to the north gate in Hatikvah’s Faith. The instant I exited the gate I flipped end for end and shot back through, headin’ north into Split territory for the first time since the Terrans destroyed my fleet and factories. On the other side of the gate I was greeted by a relatively serene sector. Everythin’ was bracketed in a calm greyish blue instead of the angry red I was half convinced would be waitin’ for me. Once again it occurred to me that Rhonkar was makin’ overtures of peace. The thought put a smile on my face. It meant that Njy and their Tkr cronies had apparently failed to convince the Patriarch to pursue and destroy me. Well, either that or it was a trap.
Either way, though, I had a job to do. Nobody was shootin’ at me and there was 1.6 million credits waitin‘ for me to kill a pirate. So I found my target nearly sixty kilometers away. He ... or she, or whatever the hell a Lar is, was sat in a Nova Raider near the west gate. As I got close enough for my sensors to start feedin’ me info I saw half a dozen pirates flyin’ with that Boron. None of ‘em were sat in anythin’ smaller’n a Scorpion. It wasn’t the kind of situation that I wanted to get any closer to than I absolutely had to. I have to admit it was intimidatin’ lookin’ at all those ships. If they’d been just scouts I wouldn’t have thought twice about it, but lookin’ at four heavies and three interceptors made me nervous.
It’s a good thing I have missiles. I scooted about fifteen klicks to the south and let the whole group go by. Then I snuck in behind ‘em, targeted that Boron and buggered it with four wasps, four silkworms and one thunderbolt. As the last missile left the tubes I fell back and banked away from the other pirates. It was a good kill. The wasps distracted the Nova’s turret and the Silkworms and Thunderbolt made it through. When the thunderbolt hit the blast radius destroyed two of the m4’s and one of the m3’s as well. While the rest were still reelin’ an entire wing of Strong Arm escort fighters launched from a passin’ TM, and a handful of military fighters crashed into ‘em from the north. Since the odds were substantially less one sided now I decided to help out and in short order most of those pirates were slag. One of ‘em was even smart enough to eject and leave me his Scorpion.
They’d also left a fair number of missiles lyin’ about so I called in the Endless, and sent her toward the center of the sector to place a satellite. Now I had a hold full of energy cells right then and was initially thinkin’ that I’d have to make a couple of trips to and from the Endless to collect all the missiles. So I was very pleased when I looked up and saw eight fighter drones from the Endless bearin’ down on the scattered crates to begin salvagin’ all the valuables in the trade lane. Before I made it back to the Endless to unload, those drones had cleaned up. I was impressed. Watchin’ ‘em in action I decided that for any piracy I intended to commit in the future I would definitely have a freighter equipped with MARS and some of those drones for cleanup.
I was then hired to protect several factories from pirates. Durin’ the course of the first one two more pilots ejected from their ships. One of them left a Falcon with 87% hull and the other a Buster Hauler with 83% hull. The second mission left no ships for me but did provide a large number of missiles for the Goblins to pick up. Again, I have to say that watchin’ those drones made me very happy. I think that was seventy thousand very well spent credits.
Anyway, there were a couple more perks compensatin’ me for these jobs. The most obvious was that the Split were once again demonstratin’ an uncharacteristic willingness to forgive and forget, despite our past differences, although they still won’t sell me anythin’. I guess I still have a long way to go before they’re willin’ to risk puttin’ weapons and shields and turbo boosters and, heh, the transport beam extensions for boardin’ ops in my hands. I guess they’re still wonderin’ if I’ll turn the things they sell me back on them. I can’t blame ‘em, although it is inconvenient. But the other perk makes up for it. After all the killin’ I’ve done today I seem to have earned my way to the fight rank of r17, Fighter Chief, which will ... finally ... allow me to start hirin’ a crew for the Endless. So after the sector was cleaned up and all the fighters had been collected, the Endless and I jumped to Aladna Hill to dock at the Military Outpost and await the military transports carryin’ the personnel I need so badly.
So here I am, waitin’ again. It seems to be the theme a the day.
Last edited by Scion Drakhar on Fri, 16. Jul 21, 15:36, edited 2 times in total.
A Pirate's Story.pdf(KIA) by _Zap _ From Nothing.PDF(complete) by _Zap _ Prodigal Son(active) Original Thread, Prodigal Son_PDF
-
Triaxx2
- Posts: 7229
- Joined: Tue, 29. Dec 09, 02:15
Don't forget that any ship which docks fighters, like the Endless can also have it's goblins retrieve ships. That will further simplify piracy by bringing those ships closer together to be taken over.
A Pirate's Revenge Completed Now in PDF by _Zap_
APR Book 2: Best Served Cold Updated 8/5/2016
The Tale of Ea't s'Quid Completed
Dovie'andi se tovya sagain
APR Book 2: Best Served Cold Updated 8/5/2016
The Tale of Ea't s'Quid Completed
Dovie'andi se tovya sagain
-
Gosnell
- Posts: 1299
- Joined: Sun, 20. Apr 08, 19:48
-
Scion Drakhar
- Posts: 932
- Joined: Wed, 27. Oct 10, 03:15
Previous Chapter / Next Chapter
GOSNELL, yeah that'd probably be a new one.
14. Weapon Systems ... Online
“Hey, Sal! Long time no see! To what do I owe the pleasure?” Tommy Shill was a big man with a broad chest, heavy shoulders and a face like a side of beef. He was looking at Sal and grinning from ear to ear.
“Hey, Tommy,” Sal said, sounding almost as tired as he felt. “This isn’t a social call. I need to ask you for something.”
“Business then?” Tommy sounded surprised and leaned away from the camera, suddenly cautious. Sal couldn’t blame him. “I thought you were retired?”
“Yeah,” Sal nodded. “So did I.”
“Somethin’ happen? What’s goin’ on?”
“You know that pirate the Terrans went after a couple weeks ago?”
Tommy shrugged, thinking about it. “Yeah, I think so. The Ghosts or Phantasms or somethin’ like that, right?”
“Phantoms. Yeah, that’s them.”
“Phantoms. Alright. What about ‘em?”
Sal took a breath and sighed heavily. “They’ve got my boy.”
Tommy blinked and leaned in to look at the comm screen and stare Sal in the face. “They’ve got your son?”
“Yeah,” Sal said. “Their leader?”
Tommy tilted his head cautiously, “the ... one eyed kid?”
“Yeah,” Sal said. “Sin and that idiot nephew a mine thought the guy was dead and emptied his account.”
Tommy nodded, thinking it through. “Let me guess, he ain’t dead?”
“No,” Sal confirmed, “he’s not.”
Tommy was nodding. “And he’s not too happy about somebody stealin’ his money.”
Sal shook his head. “No. He says that if he doesn’t get his money back he’s gonna kill Sin.”
“Think he’ll do it?”
“Yeah,” Sal said. It wasn’t until after he spoke that he realized there was no hesitation in his answer. He was as sure of it as he was of his next breath. “I’m sure of it. I spoke with him this afternoon, Tommy.”
“You spoke with him?”
“Yeah,” Sal nodded again. “He contacted my nephew first and spooked him. Somehow he got a bugged phone into Toni’s pocket so when the moron came straight to me ...”
“He knows where you live?”
“He knows where I live. He listened to my whole conversation with Toni. The instant I asked about gettin’ in touch with the guy the phone in Toni’s pocket starts ringin’.”
“Slick,” Tommy said.
“Yeah,” Sal agreed. “Too slick. And too confident by half. He knows who I am. He knows things about me he shouldn’t know.”
“Like what?”
“He called me ‘the Gem,’” Sal said. “And ‘the Scale.’ And the ‘Blade.’”
Tommy whistled. “Those are old names. How does he know those names?”
“This is Gil Jerrigan’s kid, Tommy. There‘s no tellin‘ ...”
“Snake Eye?!” Tommy was beet red. Veins stood out all over his neck and forehead. His eyes bulged and he began to swear. “Madre figlio c*bip*o di puttana! That two bit, backstabbin’ sunnuva whore!! We shoulda killed that sunnuva bitch two decades ago!”
Sal put a hand up and waved Tommy down. It took a few moments but eventually the other man settled back in his chair, breathing heavy and clenching his fists. When Tommy finally settled down Sal raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, I don’t like him either.”
“Like him! I want that il c*bip*o hangin’ from a meathook!”
“I know! I know, Tommy. I was there, remember.”
“Half my crew!” Tommy raged. “HALF MY CREW!!! That cocksucker got half my crew pinched and LAUGHED about it!”
Sal waited. It was his own damn fault. He should have known better than to mention Jerigan. Tommy could scream and yell all he wanted but the truth was just that Jerigan had outsmarted the guy and everybody knew about it. Sal sighed heavily. Pride, Sal thought. Frakking pride. Pride caused even more problems than the feds.
He waited while Tommy screamed himself into silence. “You done?” Sal asked him sarcastically.
Tommy met his eye and then nodded.
“Good,” Sal said. “I need you to look into this guy for me. Find out everything you can. I need to know if he’s got any weaknesses. If I decide to put the screws to him I need to know where to squeeze. Can you do that for me?”
Tommy nodded. “Yeah, Sal. Anything for you. You know that.”
Sal nodded. At least there was that. “Good. Good. I need this done as soon as possible, Tommy.”
“Yeah okay, Sally. I’ll see what I can find out.”
“Thank you, Tommy.” Sal cut the feed. Then he took a breath and listened to the tree frogs singing out in the dark. He wondered if he was ever going to see his son again.
*****
Errr ...
Riiight.
So, up until this point it’s actually been a pretty good day. I mean it’s not like I’ve got an Armada waitin’ for my commands or anything but I’ve got a crew! Since I parked at Aladna Hill last night we’ve met with three Argon Military Transports and I’ve been hirin’ people all mornin‘. I hired a navigator, givin’ us the ability to deploy and use jump beacons. I hired a female Split machinist, who says she can coax even more speed out of this monster ... which already does a pretty good clip, especially for a ship measured in kilometers. I hired a pair of mechanics from the Argon and then hired some of the people already on board to work under ’em as a flight crew. So as long as I have the necessary raw materials on board they can repair my fighters and keep ‘em flyin‘ right, although how exactly I‘m gonna keep myself in microchips I haven‘t a clue. Since we were at the Military Outpost anyway I hired seven marines who Kao and Tasha say might be trainable. I would have hired more but these were the only ones that even knew one end of the gun from the other, and there’s this one woman by the name of Kleo Gisler who is one of the most gifted natural fighters I‘ve ever seen. I even hired a Split as a head cook ... after I took him aside and discreetly asked if he had any recipes for Boron, anyway. But perhaps most significantly I hired a gunnery crew. I now have seven gunners, two technicians and a scientist. Which means the Endless’ guns are now not only online and operatin’, they’re supplemented with MARS fire control. Which means that I shouldn’t have to feel my heart skip a beat every time I see an enemy fighter anywhere near her.
Hooo. Yeah. What a relief.
I also decided to spend some of the money I’ve been makin’ on a couple new ships. The fact that the Argon Prime shipyard had L variants in stock, complete with full compliments of the 25mj shields I can’t seem to find anywhere in the universe at the moment, probably influenced my decision makin’ somewhat. Either way I bought a bog-standard Mercury, had it suped up as much as it would go and had it kitted out with a Duplex scanner, MARS, fight command mk1 and 2, navigation command, salvage command, special command, trade command as well as a tradin’ extension. I shipped over a phased repeater gun and few fighter drones from the Endless as well as a couple hundred of the three thousand mossies that I picked from the equipment dock in Cloudbase South East. So, my new Merc can fly, offer a reasonable defense and clean up the trade lane after me. I do believe I have myself a Salvage Crew.
I also bought a Nova Vanguard. Now I know it’s not the best fighter in the world but it came with 75mj of shieldin’, four high energy plasma throwers and a decent pair of shield and weapon generators. Once it was upgraded all the way its got a top speed of 165m/s and mid-range maneuverability. It’ll carry the weapons I want to bolt on it and many of the missiles and it’s got a decent hold to do it with. So all in all it’s not a bad ship. It’s not a great ship, but it’s not a bad one. If I had had the money, I’d have bought ten more of ’em. So I had it kitted out with all the software it would need to act as my wingman and picked it up while the Merc was on it‘s way down to Terracorp HQ for a jumpdrive.
Gin then spent the next stazura down on the hangar deck. She’s now got it kitted out with a selection of missiles, a phased repeater gun in the turret and the spare jumpdrive from that Dolphin, along with enough energy cells for her to keep up with me on any executions I might take. From what I heard she refused to even allow any of the flight crew on the ship. Which suits me fine. I mean I know she’s tough. She’s tougher’n me I think, but I also think losin’ the Magus was somethin’ of a blow for her. She’d started settlin’ in and gettin’ comfortable with the crew, now they’re either dead or run off. To be honest I’m glad she’s busy workin’ on somethin’ she cares about and not broodin’ anymore. I mean a wingman is good but a happy woman is, well, better. Especially when she can dismember you with her bare hands ...
So, anyway, while she was busy gettin’ her ship squared away I took on some work. The first job was to retrieve an Octopus Vanguard from somewhere down in Cloudbase South East. Now these are normally pretty straightforward assignments. Go to where the ships were last seen, follow the tracker, claim the ship and return it to their owner’s lovin‘ embrace. Easy peasy, right? Yeah, well, this time a bloody Paranid got there first and claimed my pay as salvage. I tried talkin’ that three eye out of the thing but, well, me and the Paranid don’t exactly see eye to eye under the best of circumstances. He said some nasty things and I got heated and ... you know? It’s actually really easy to hit harder’n you mean to when usin’ shipboard energy weapons? Especially when the big mouthed Paranid is sat in a damaged, unshielded Octopus ... Yeah, amazin’ that. Needless to say the conclusion of that argument didn’t go over real well with the woman what gave me the job.
Oh well. C'est la vie, right?
Alright, so lets see, after that I bought a couple of scouts at good prices. I got a disco for about thirty k and a Jaguar Raider, complete with shielding, IRE’s and some software for a little over sixty. It’s a crazy ship, too. It’ll only take 1x1mj of shieldin’ and it’ll do just a hair shy of 600m/s. The idea of actually sittin’ in the thing is just terrifyin’ but after a visit to the equipment dock it’s significantly faster than the Rapier. So I’m gonna hold on to it. For a little while at least. The ultimate aim for all of these ships is to find someone lookin’ to buy ’em for a LOT more’n I paid for ’em. I just have to make sure my bloody mechanics don’t work on fixin’ ’em.
I know that might sound a bit counter productive but there is a reason for it. I mean when I first hired these two I thought I’d be able to pick up these junkers floatin’ around out in space, have my guys repair ’em and turn a profit doin’ it. So I put ’em to work on the fighter’s we’d already salvaged. So, they managed to repair a Buster Hauler and a Pericles. Don’t ask me where either of ‘em came from, I honestly don’t remember. But they fixed ‘em. Then they got halfway done fixin’ a regular Buster before they ran out of parts and materials. They’re able to fabricate just about anythin’ they need to repair the ships with the tools Chief Jonzac left behind. They just need raw materials to work with, namely in the form of Ore, which is big and bulky but not terribly expensive, and microchips, which are small and extremely easy to store but cost the bloody stars! In fact that’s where the big problem showed up. The average price per unit of microchips is 13.5k and they‘ve gone through 39 of ‘em, or about 525k, fixin‘ those two and half ships. Granted those ships were pretty beat up when I brought ’em on board, at least I think they were. My memory is teasin’ me with the idea that that Buster Hauler was actually in pretty good shape but I can’t remember. Either way, it don’t work out. I mean I was hopin’ for a higher profit margin than that. Hell. I was hopin’ for any profit margin. Between what I paid the mechanics and the cost of the ore and those bloody microchips I won’t even get back what it cost to fix the damn things. So, once again, the point is that I’m gonna have to be a bit more particular with what ships I let these fools work on. Keepin’ the ships I depend on combat worthy is one thing, but spendin’ resources that I’m not gonna get back repairin’ these salvaged junkers is somethin’ else entirely. Maybe when I have the money I’ll just build a chip plant ...
Anyway, since the last mission I took to fetch a ship worked out so well I decided to take another one. This time it was a kestrel and I got to it before anybody else, claimed it and parked it in on the Endless for a speedy return to it’s anxious owner. It only netted us about 35k, but a successful job is good for more than just money, and good will from the Argon means safe harbor for me and mine right now. So I keep makin’ ‘em happy ... even when they’re payin’ me crap.
This one was advertised as a simple execution. Easy they told me, and paid me accordingly. But apparently the instant Mak Brano escaped from Federal custody he went and hooked up with his old gang. Now when I first came through that gate I didn’t register that the heaviest of those fighters was just an M4. All I knew was that I was surrounded by enemy fighters, and for the record even a Buster can carry Wildfire missiles and the even more terrifyin’ Remote Guided Warheads. So I short jumped to the south gate as fast as I could and then assessed the situation from a distance, where I was reasonably sure they couldn‘t kill me. After assessin’ the situation I made my way back toward ’em. As I did I targeted the M4’s with a Silkworm each. Only one of ‘em was completely destroyed but all of ‘em took major damage. After that the light fighters broke ranks and came after me. Which in my experience is always a mistake. Once they thin out I can deal with ‘em one at a time and when you’re sat in a light fighter and goin’ head to head with a guy in a heavy fighter ... Well, I was able to take ‘em all one at a time before goin’ after Master Brano’s Nova. A short time later the Argon government sent me some high praise and enough credits for lunch.
Huh. Somehow, when I wasn’t lookin’, I went and became a snob. How’d that happen?
Weird. Anyway, I called in the Endless, landed and came up to the bridge to check the status of my ships, you know? To make sure they were all doin’ what I told ‘em to. That’s when I noticed that fella I hired to drive my superfreighter on what looked like a coffee break. So I gave him a holler and told him to get his ass back to work. His response was a bit strange. He asked me if I’d ‘lost my frakkin’ mind,’ and there was definitely what you might call an edge to his voice that led me to believe he wasn’t just tryin’ to get himself vented out into space by an angry employer. So I called up the sector map to see what the hell his problem was. That’s when I saw that there Pirate Guild Mobile HQ and all its fighters circlin’ the low-yield sidearm fab where my pilot is hidin’ my super freighter.
“Shit,” I said.
Gin looked at me. She’d been on the bridge for the last several hours while I flew the Tenjin and killed people. I still haven’t talked with Odin. “What is it?” She asked me.
“Well, I’m beginnin’ to think I upset someone.” I put the sector map up on screen so she could look at it.
“I think I’m missing something.”
“Cheram? The guy I have drivin’ my freighter?”
“Yes?”
“That’s where he’s parked and according to him those pirates came out of the west gate and went right for him. In fact he says his shield is still rechargin’.”
“Sal Vassar?”
“If it’s not him then why aren’t those fighters movin’ on or goin’ after the other freighters in the sector?”
“Well,” Gin said with a shrug, “they do hate you.” She was studyin’ the sector map. “Still, it is conspicuous. There isn’t a single Federation ship in that sector.”
“Hyuuh,” I nodded. “Almost like it’s been arranged somehow.”
“You knew this wasn’t going to be easy.”
“I think it’s time to give Mr. Vassar another call.” I looked at her. “Would you have Sin put back in his airlock?”
GOSNELL, yeah that'd probably be a new one.
14. Weapon Systems ... Online
“Hey, Sal! Long time no see! To what do I owe the pleasure?” Tommy Shill was a big man with a broad chest, heavy shoulders and a face like a side of beef. He was looking at Sal and grinning from ear to ear.
“Hey, Tommy,” Sal said, sounding almost as tired as he felt. “This isn’t a social call. I need to ask you for something.”
“Business then?” Tommy sounded surprised and leaned away from the camera, suddenly cautious. Sal couldn’t blame him. “I thought you were retired?”
“Yeah,” Sal nodded. “So did I.”
“Somethin’ happen? What’s goin’ on?”
“You know that pirate the Terrans went after a couple weeks ago?”
Tommy shrugged, thinking about it. “Yeah, I think so. The Ghosts or Phantasms or somethin’ like that, right?”
“Phantoms. Yeah, that’s them.”
“Phantoms. Alright. What about ‘em?”
Sal took a breath and sighed heavily. “They’ve got my boy.”
Tommy blinked and leaned in to look at the comm screen and stare Sal in the face. “They’ve got your son?”
“Yeah,” Sal said. “Their leader?”
Tommy tilted his head cautiously, “the ... one eyed kid?”
“Yeah,” Sal said. “Sin and that idiot nephew a mine thought the guy was dead and emptied his account.”
Tommy nodded, thinking it through. “Let me guess, he ain’t dead?”
“No,” Sal confirmed, “he’s not.”
Tommy was nodding. “And he’s not too happy about somebody stealin’ his money.”
Sal shook his head. “No. He says that if he doesn’t get his money back he’s gonna kill Sin.”
“Think he’ll do it?”
“Yeah,” Sal said. It wasn’t until after he spoke that he realized there was no hesitation in his answer. He was as sure of it as he was of his next breath. “I’m sure of it. I spoke with him this afternoon, Tommy.”
“You spoke with him?”
“Yeah,” Sal nodded again. “He contacted my nephew first and spooked him. Somehow he got a bugged phone into Toni’s pocket so when the moron came straight to me ...”
“He knows where you live?”
“He knows where I live. He listened to my whole conversation with Toni. The instant I asked about gettin’ in touch with the guy the phone in Toni’s pocket starts ringin’.”
“Slick,” Tommy said.
“Yeah,” Sal agreed. “Too slick. And too confident by half. He knows who I am. He knows things about me he shouldn’t know.”
“Like what?”
“He called me ‘the Gem,’” Sal said. “And ‘the Scale.’ And the ‘Blade.’”
Tommy whistled. “Those are old names. How does he know those names?”
“This is Gil Jerrigan’s kid, Tommy. There‘s no tellin‘ ...”
“Snake Eye?!” Tommy was beet red. Veins stood out all over his neck and forehead. His eyes bulged and he began to swear. “Madre figlio c*bip*o di puttana! That two bit, backstabbin’ sunnuva whore!! We shoulda killed that sunnuva bitch two decades ago!”
Sal put a hand up and waved Tommy down. It took a few moments but eventually the other man settled back in his chair, breathing heavy and clenching his fists. When Tommy finally settled down Sal raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, I don’t like him either.”
“Like him! I want that il c*bip*o hangin’ from a meathook!”
“I know! I know, Tommy. I was there, remember.”
“Half my crew!” Tommy raged. “HALF MY CREW!!! That cocksucker got half my crew pinched and LAUGHED about it!”
Sal waited. It was his own damn fault. He should have known better than to mention Jerigan. Tommy could scream and yell all he wanted but the truth was just that Jerigan had outsmarted the guy and everybody knew about it. Sal sighed heavily. Pride, Sal thought. Frakking pride. Pride caused even more problems than the feds.
He waited while Tommy screamed himself into silence. “You done?” Sal asked him sarcastically.
Tommy met his eye and then nodded.
“Good,” Sal said. “I need you to look into this guy for me. Find out everything you can. I need to know if he’s got any weaknesses. If I decide to put the screws to him I need to know where to squeeze. Can you do that for me?”
Tommy nodded. “Yeah, Sal. Anything for you. You know that.”
Sal nodded. At least there was that. “Good. Good. I need this done as soon as possible, Tommy.”
“Yeah okay, Sally. I’ll see what I can find out.”
“Thank you, Tommy.” Sal cut the feed. Then he took a breath and listened to the tree frogs singing out in the dark. He wondered if he was ever going to see his son again.
*****
Errr ...
Riiight.
So, up until this point it’s actually been a pretty good day. I mean it’s not like I’ve got an Armada waitin’ for my commands or anything but I’ve got a crew! Since I parked at Aladna Hill last night we’ve met with three Argon Military Transports and I’ve been hirin’ people all mornin‘. I hired a navigator, givin’ us the ability to deploy and use jump beacons. I hired a female Split machinist, who says she can coax even more speed out of this monster ... which already does a pretty good clip, especially for a ship measured in kilometers. I hired a pair of mechanics from the Argon and then hired some of the people already on board to work under ’em as a flight crew. So as long as I have the necessary raw materials on board they can repair my fighters and keep ‘em flyin‘ right, although how exactly I‘m gonna keep myself in microchips I haven‘t a clue. Since we were at the Military Outpost anyway I hired seven marines who Kao and Tasha say might be trainable. I would have hired more but these were the only ones that even knew one end of the gun from the other, and there’s this one woman by the name of Kleo Gisler who is one of the most gifted natural fighters I‘ve ever seen. I even hired a Split as a head cook ... after I took him aside and discreetly asked if he had any recipes for Boron, anyway. But perhaps most significantly I hired a gunnery crew. I now have seven gunners, two technicians and a scientist. Which means the Endless’ guns are now not only online and operatin’, they’re supplemented with MARS fire control. Which means that I shouldn’t have to feel my heart skip a beat every time I see an enemy fighter anywhere near her.
Hooo. Yeah. What a relief.
I also decided to spend some of the money I’ve been makin’ on a couple new ships. The fact that the Argon Prime shipyard had L variants in stock, complete with full compliments of the 25mj shields I can’t seem to find anywhere in the universe at the moment, probably influenced my decision makin’ somewhat. Either way I bought a bog-standard Mercury, had it suped up as much as it would go and had it kitted out with a Duplex scanner, MARS, fight command mk1 and 2, navigation command, salvage command, special command, trade command as well as a tradin’ extension. I shipped over a phased repeater gun and few fighter drones from the Endless as well as a couple hundred of the three thousand mossies that I picked from the equipment dock in Cloudbase South East. So, my new Merc can fly, offer a reasonable defense and clean up the trade lane after me. I do believe I have myself a Salvage Crew.
I also bought a Nova Vanguard. Now I know it’s not the best fighter in the world but it came with 75mj of shieldin’, four high energy plasma throwers and a decent pair of shield and weapon generators. Once it was upgraded all the way its got a top speed of 165m/s and mid-range maneuverability. It’ll carry the weapons I want to bolt on it and many of the missiles and it’s got a decent hold to do it with. So all in all it’s not a bad ship. It’s not a great ship, but it’s not a bad one. If I had had the money, I’d have bought ten more of ’em. So I had it kitted out with all the software it would need to act as my wingman and picked it up while the Merc was on it‘s way down to Terracorp HQ for a jumpdrive.
Gin then spent the next stazura down on the hangar deck. She’s now got it kitted out with a selection of missiles, a phased repeater gun in the turret and the spare jumpdrive from that Dolphin, along with enough energy cells for her to keep up with me on any executions I might take. From what I heard she refused to even allow any of the flight crew on the ship. Which suits me fine. I mean I know she’s tough. She’s tougher’n me I think, but I also think losin’ the Magus was somethin’ of a blow for her. She’d started settlin’ in and gettin’ comfortable with the crew, now they’re either dead or run off. To be honest I’m glad she’s busy workin’ on somethin’ she cares about and not broodin’ anymore. I mean a wingman is good but a happy woman is, well, better. Especially when she can dismember you with her bare hands ...
So, anyway, while she was busy gettin’ her ship squared away I took on some work. The first job was to retrieve an Octopus Vanguard from somewhere down in Cloudbase South East. Now these are normally pretty straightforward assignments. Go to where the ships were last seen, follow the tracker, claim the ship and return it to their owner’s lovin‘ embrace. Easy peasy, right? Yeah, well, this time a bloody Paranid got there first and claimed my pay as salvage. I tried talkin’ that three eye out of the thing but, well, me and the Paranid don’t exactly see eye to eye under the best of circumstances. He said some nasty things and I got heated and ... you know? It’s actually really easy to hit harder’n you mean to when usin’ shipboard energy weapons? Especially when the big mouthed Paranid is sat in a damaged, unshielded Octopus ... Yeah, amazin’ that. Needless to say the conclusion of that argument didn’t go over real well with the woman what gave me the job.
Oh well. C'est la vie, right?
Alright, so lets see, after that I bought a couple of scouts at good prices. I got a disco for about thirty k and a Jaguar Raider, complete with shielding, IRE’s and some software for a little over sixty. It’s a crazy ship, too. It’ll only take 1x1mj of shieldin’ and it’ll do just a hair shy of 600m/s. The idea of actually sittin’ in the thing is just terrifyin’ but after a visit to the equipment dock it’s significantly faster than the Rapier. So I’m gonna hold on to it. For a little while at least. The ultimate aim for all of these ships is to find someone lookin’ to buy ’em for a LOT more’n I paid for ’em. I just have to make sure my bloody mechanics don’t work on fixin’ ’em.
I know that might sound a bit counter productive but there is a reason for it. I mean when I first hired these two I thought I’d be able to pick up these junkers floatin’ around out in space, have my guys repair ’em and turn a profit doin’ it. So I put ’em to work on the fighter’s we’d already salvaged. So, they managed to repair a Buster Hauler and a Pericles. Don’t ask me where either of ‘em came from, I honestly don’t remember. But they fixed ‘em. Then they got halfway done fixin’ a regular Buster before they ran out of parts and materials. They’re able to fabricate just about anythin’ they need to repair the ships with the tools Chief Jonzac left behind. They just need raw materials to work with, namely in the form of Ore, which is big and bulky but not terribly expensive, and microchips, which are small and extremely easy to store but cost the bloody stars! In fact that’s where the big problem showed up. The average price per unit of microchips is 13.5k and they‘ve gone through 39 of ‘em, or about 525k, fixin‘ those two and half ships. Granted those ships were pretty beat up when I brought ’em on board, at least I think they were. My memory is teasin’ me with the idea that that Buster Hauler was actually in pretty good shape but I can’t remember. Either way, it don’t work out. I mean I was hopin’ for a higher profit margin than that. Hell. I was hopin’ for any profit margin. Between what I paid the mechanics and the cost of the ore and those bloody microchips I won’t even get back what it cost to fix the damn things. So, once again, the point is that I’m gonna have to be a bit more particular with what ships I let these fools work on. Keepin’ the ships I depend on combat worthy is one thing, but spendin’ resources that I’m not gonna get back repairin’ these salvaged junkers is somethin’ else entirely. Maybe when I have the money I’ll just build a chip plant ...
Anyway, since the last mission I took to fetch a ship worked out so well I decided to take another one. This time it was a kestrel and I got to it before anybody else, claimed it and parked it in on the Endless for a speedy return to it’s anxious owner. It only netted us about 35k, but a successful job is good for more than just money, and good will from the Argon means safe harbor for me and mine right now. So I keep makin’ ‘em happy ... even when they’re payin’ me crap.
This one was advertised as a simple execution. Easy they told me, and paid me accordingly. But apparently the instant Mak Brano escaped from Federal custody he went and hooked up with his old gang. Now when I first came through that gate I didn’t register that the heaviest of those fighters was just an M4. All I knew was that I was surrounded by enemy fighters, and for the record even a Buster can carry Wildfire missiles and the even more terrifyin’ Remote Guided Warheads. So I short jumped to the south gate as fast as I could and then assessed the situation from a distance, where I was reasonably sure they couldn‘t kill me. After assessin’ the situation I made my way back toward ’em. As I did I targeted the M4’s with a Silkworm each. Only one of ‘em was completely destroyed but all of ‘em took major damage. After that the light fighters broke ranks and came after me. Which in my experience is always a mistake. Once they thin out I can deal with ‘em one at a time and when you’re sat in a light fighter and goin’ head to head with a guy in a heavy fighter ... Well, I was able to take ‘em all one at a time before goin’ after Master Brano’s Nova. A short time later the Argon government sent me some high praise and enough credits for lunch.
Huh. Somehow, when I wasn’t lookin’, I went and became a snob. How’d that happen?
Weird. Anyway, I called in the Endless, landed and came up to the bridge to check the status of my ships, you know? To make sure they were all doin’ what I told ‘em to. That’s when I noticed that fella I hired to drive my superfreighter on what looked like a coffee break. So I gave him a holler and told him to get his ass back to work. His response was a bit strange. He asked me if I’d ‘lost my frakkin’ mind,’ and there was definitely what you might call an edge to his voice that led me to believe he wasn’t just tryin’ to get himself vented out into space by an angry employer. So I called up the sector map to see what the hell his problem was. That’s when I saw that there Pirate Guild Mobile HQ and all its fighters circlin’ the low-yield sidearm fab where my pilot is hidin’ my super freighter.
“Shit,” I said.
Gin looked at me. She’d been on the bridge for the last several hours while I flew the Tenjin and killed people. I still haven’t talked with Odin. “What is it?” She asked me.
“Well, I’m beginnin’ to think I upset someone.” I put the sector map up on screen so she could look at it.
“I think I’m missing something.”
“Cheram? The guy I have drivin’ my freighter?”
“Yes?”
“That’s where he’s parked and according to him those pirates came out of the west gate and went right for him. In fact he says his shield is still rechargin’.”
“Sal Vassar?”
“If it’s not him then why aren’t those fighters movin’ on or goin’ after the other freighters in the sector?”
“Well,” Gin said with a shrug, “they do hate you.” She was studyin’ the sector map. “Still, it is conspicuous. There isn’t a single Federation ship in that sector.”
“Hyuuh,” I nodded. “Almost like it’s been arranged somehow.”
“You knew this wasn’t going to be easy.”
“I think it’s time to give Mr. Vassar another call.” I looked at her. “Would you have Sin put back in his airlock?”
Last edited by Scion Drakhar on Fri, 16. Jul 21, 16:55, edited 1 time in total.
A Pirate's Story.pdf(KIA) by _Zap _ From Nothing.PDF(complete) by _Zap _ Prodigal Son(active) Original Thread, Prodigal Son_PDF
-
Neeros
- Posts: 195
- Joined: Fri, 3. Dec 10, 16:34
-
Gosnell
- Posts: 1299
- Joined: Sun, 20. Apr 08, 19:48
A ship as big as an elephant can resemble a battering ram 
.
Unlucky pilot on the Side arms Fab:
Bloody heck,bloody goram fool in the next docking bay only went an got himself chased by a whole armada of bleedin pirates.
Now what the bloody hell am i meant to do.
"HEY MORON,FRAK YOU VERY MUCH"'I said making an a bow while giving him the finger.
Frakking hell,bloody idiot noob pilots.
Oh we will make credits we will fly around become millionaires.
We will seek shelter in a factory when pirates come ,because we are to cheap to buy a bleedin jumpdrive.
Now I cant undock.
Now Bala Di will think i screwed himout of his weed,now he is going to rearange my innards for not making delivery.
Now im screwed both ways.
Bloody pirates
Well if im going out may aswell get high.
.Unlucky pilot on the Side arms Fab:
Bloody heck,bloody goram fool in the next docking bay only went an got himself chased by a whole armada of bleedin pirates.
Now what the bloody hell am i meant to do.
"HEY MORON,FRAK YOU VERY MUCH"'I said making an a bow while giving him the finger.
Frakking hell,bloody idiot noob pilots.
Oh we will make credits we will fly around become millionaires.
We will seek shelter in a factory when pirates come ,because we are to cheap to buy a bleedin jumpdrive.
Now I cant undock.
Now Bala Di will think i screwed himout of his weed,now he is going to rearange my innards for not making delivery.
Now im screwed both ways.
Bloody pirates
Well if im going out may aswell get high.
-
Falkirion
- Posts: 105
- Joined: Mon, 4. Jan 10, 10:16