Wed Oct 18, 2006 7:20 pm
Star Log of a Freelancer
I hope im not stepping on anyones toes whos also doing this sort of thing. I started this about 5months ago, and have since left it sitting in word. Figured i might as well post it now. Here goes.
THE STAR LOG OF A FREELANCER
BY Zeta1
NEW LONDON, NEW LONDON SYSTEM, MARCH 16TH, 801A.S.
THE THREE KINGS PUB. ENTRY’S OF BLAKE MORMON
Here I am, starting this neural net log to keep track of everything ill do making my fortune in the stars. I’ve bought myself a simple starflier, rudimentary weapons, and an old rusted thruster.
The ship is so old I wouldn’t be surprised if it fell apart before it exited the docking ring’s “starship elevator.” my father says am crazy to go to space, we were a comfortable upper-middle class. We had our own little
Walsh restaurant.
Rack of lamb was my father’s special, adding his own little spices that he’d disown me if I told u what they were.
But the prospects for makin a boatload o’ money out there are good.
When my father heard that, he said “there are enough pirates, criminals and terrorists to fill two boatloads o’s of credits spent getting what’s left of ye from an interstellar vapor cloud.”
I ignored the comment, but that thought of a hull breach slowly asphyxiating me still lingers in my mind.
There’s a gateway rep in the bar I know, who has a younger cousin who’s campus room mates girlfriend knows a girl married to a factory worker, who knows the person who delivers the polymers he makes on Southampton shipyard to an equipment dealer who repairs the hull of a ship of a freighter that’s captain delivers synth paste to Canterbury station, the head of planetform inc.
a company that terraforms planets. He told the equipment dealer that taking basic supplies from new London to Birmingham station in the Manchester system, then taking terraforming gasses back to Canterbury station you can make a moderate profit off it.
So the equipment dealer told the, ah you get my point.
So im just grabbing a drink before I head to the commodity dealer for food rations, oxygen, water, consumer goods like basic computer optronics, clothing, and a I added it all up, I and figured out ill be able to take some luxury goods there too.
That should add a hefty profit on my way there.
Well, better get down to business.
Birmingham station, Manchester system, march 18th 801 A.S
Uneventful, that’s how id have to describe the trip.
Okay, now that’s I total lie.
It was looking fine. I was coming up on the gate to Manchester, and I opened my eyes from some half sleeping as I exited the trade lane, only the second time id gone from 1000 to 55 kilometers per hour in 5 seconds.
Right as I opened my eyes. A blinding explosion of red, blue, orange, purple, and pink exploded; just about every single alarm on my ship went off, proximity, explosion, radiation, and more. Adrenaline pumped thru my body.
I told myself to think straight.
My shields were near down from the explosion. One problem from alarm.
Second the radiation from the explosion of a freighter’s engine core in front of me would wear what was left of my shields down in seconds.
I punched the shield batteries as hard and fast as I could. It was answered by a big sequel.
And I looked down to my controls to see my shields returning to full strength as the electromacntic pulse researched my energy-life-saver.
Then the proximity alarm I cam to the entire front section of the transport flew thru space heading right for me!
To add to my problems corsair ships blazing out from the explosion at full speed with all weapons firing, I banked hard right to avoid them.
I remembered what I overheard someone say in the bar “ when you bank one way or another from the enemy ships, drop a couple of mines.”
I raised my hand do a lever to my top right.
If the lever was pulled down, it would relese the mine bay doors, or that’s how the old inefficient starfleir mine system worked.
I banked with my left hand as I pulled the lever and counted to 3 southhampton, as I heard the mines swoosh! Out of their bay.
I allowed my self a glimpse back as the explosions rippled thru 2 corsair ships.
It was a mistake turning around.
I looked backck at my cockpit screen and saw a police cavalier ship almost collide with me, or I almost collided with him “you bloody sonuva…”
a gruff Scottish-Low-Level-Leeds type of voice angrily started.
“Sorry!”
I quickly interjected as he hit his emergency brakes just in time.
I pulled back on my stick as hard as possible in a loopy-loop I my stomach definitely did not approve of, and had no problem complaining to me about it.
I swung out of it in a barrel-role with guns blazing at the corsair “legionare” fighter’s engines.
instead of splitting into a different large chunks and a million small pieces and then exploding, in a split second the chain reaction from the fighter’s fusion reactor ran in to the middle of the ship like a greenish strike of horizontal lighting, then promptly exploded into a fireball. I had had my share of excitement.
Just before I went into the jump gate, I activated my tractor beam and salvaged what was left of the pirate ships.
Besieges that, I got to Birmingham uneventful.
Just another boring, uneventful day in the life of a freelancer eh?
Canterbury station march 21st 801 A.S.
This isn’t good.
I don’t know what to do.
Il give you thee extremely quick low-down on what’s just happened.
Remember how I salvaged some of the corsair ships?
Yea, well I picked up a particular goodie outta it. A corsair Pulse Cannon, or, “Borroco’s” as there called.
I tried to outfit it, the equipment dealer told me not to, that it’d blow out every single one of my systems, but I had to, I almost, as my dad put it earlier, ended up as an interstellar vapor cloud.
So I mounted it.
I had my gases and I was ready to go, but then it happened.
Right as I left the docking bay, I picked up about 30 new contacts on my radar, Birmingham started flashing, guns going on line, ships coming out to defend no, that’s not the right word for it.
Ships coming out to be obliterated.
That’s more like it.
More contacts after that came in from the other direction.
Then my instruments showed me that every comm.
Frequency exploded with a message coming from every ship.
“GAIA WILL NOT BLEED!”
a collective of 60 or so voices said at once, sending a shiver down my spine.
Right after that I immediacy realized who it was.
A radical eco-terrorist group known as “Gaians.”
I had heard my College biology professor whom everyday I engaged in heated debates from everything from philosophy to poltics speak of them a lot.
About how, they were only “Fighting for the greater good of Sirius’s wildlife.”
One week later, a knock came to the classroom door.
“Come in!”
the thin, gray haired teacher called, as calm as could be.
3 armed forces officers, a tall, pug-nosed colonel with a \ scar stretching from his left-ear down over his eye, just nicking his lips, and strung down his neck like a snake
THE STAR LOG OF A FREELANCER
BY Zeta1
NEW LONDON, NEW LONDON SYSTEM, MARCH 16TH, 801A.S.
THE THREE KINGS PUB. ENTRY’S OF BLAKE MORMON
Here I am, starting this neural net log to keep track of everything ill do making my fortune in the stars. I’ve bought myself a simple starflier, rudimentary weapons, and an old rusted thruster.
The ship is so old I wouldn’t be surprised if it fell apart before it exited the docking ring’s “starship elevator.” my father says am crazy to go to space, we were a comfortable upper-middle class. We had our own little
Walsh restaurant.
Rack of lamb was my father’s special, adding his own little spices that he’d disown me if I told u what they were.
But the prospects for makin a boatload o’ money out there are good.
When my father heard that, he said “there are enough pirates, criminals and terrorists to fill two boatloads o’s of credits spent getting what’s left of ye from an interstellar vapor cloud.”
I ignored the comment, but that thought of a hull breach slowly asphyxiating me still lingers in my mind.
There’s a gateway rep in the bar I know, who has a younger cousin who’s campus room mates girlfriend knows a girl married to a factory worker, who knows the person who delivers the polymers he makes on Southampton shipyard to an equipment dealer who repairs the hull of a ship of a freighter that’s captain delivers synth paste to Canterbury station, the head of planetform inc.
a company that terraforms planets. He told the equipment dealer that taking basic supplies from new London to Birmingham station in the Manchester system, then taking terraforming gasses back to Canterbury station you can make a moderate profit off it.
So the equipment dealer told the, ah you get my point.
So im just grabbing a drink before I head to the commodity dealer for food rations, oxygen, water, consumer goods like basic computer optronics, clothing, and a I added it all up, I and figured out ill be able to take some luxury goods there too.
That should add a hefty profit on my way there.
Well, better get down to business.
Birmingham station, Manchester system, march 18th 801 A.S
Uneventful, that’s how id have to describe the trip.
Okay, now that’s I total lie.
It was looking fine. I was coming up on the gate to Manchester, and I opened my eyes from some half sleeping as I exited the trade lane, only the second time id gone from 1000 to 55 kilometers per hour in 5 seconds.
Right as I opened my eyes. A blinding explosion of red, blue, orange, purple, and pink exploded; just about every single alarm on my ship went off, proximity, explosion, radiation, and more. Adrenaline pumped thru my body.
I told myself to think straight.
My shields were near down from the explosion. One problem from alarm.
Second the radiation from the explosion of a freighter’s engine core in front of me would wear what was left of my shields down in seconds.
I punched the shield batteries as hard and fast as I could. It was answered by a big sequel.
And I looked down to my controls to see my shields returning to full strength as the electromacntic pulse researched my energy-life-saver.
Then the proximity alarm I cam to the entire front section of the transport flew thru space heading right for me!
To add to my problems corsair ships blazing out from the explosion at full speed with all weapons firing, I banked hard right to avoid them.
I remembered what I overheard someone say in the bar “ when you bank one way or another from the enemy ships, drop a couple of mines.”
I raised my hand do a lever to my top right.
If the lever was pulled down, it would relese the mine bay doors, or that’s how the old inefficient starfleir mine system worked.
I banked with my left hand as I pulled the lever and counted to 3 southhampton, as I heard the mines swoosh! Out of their bay.
I allowed my self a glimpse back as the explosions rippled thru 2 corsair ships.
It was a mistake turning around.
I looked backck at my cockpit screen and saw a police cavalier ship almost collide with me, or I almost collided with him “you bloody sonuva…”
a gruff Scottish-Low-Level-Leeds type of voice angrily started.
“Sorry!”
I quickly interjected as he hit his emergency brakes just in time.
I pulled back on my stick as hard as possible in a loopy-loop I my stomach definitely did not approve of, and had no problem complaining to me about it.
I swung out of it in a barrel-role with guns blazing at the corsair “legionare” fighter’s engines.
instead of splitting into a different large chunks and a million small pieces and then exploding, in a split second the chain reaction from the fighter’s fusion reactor ran in to the middle of the ship like a greenish strike of horizontal lighting, then promptly exploded into a fireball. I had had my share of excitement.
Just before I went into the jump gate, I activated my tractor beam and salvaged what was left of the pirate ships.
Besieges that, I got to Birmingham uneventful.
Just another boring, uneventful day in the life of a freelancer eh?
Canterbury station march 21st 801 A.S.
This isn’t good.
I don’t know what to do.
Il give you thee extremely quick low-down on what’s just happened.
Remember how I salvaged some of the corsair ships?
Yea, well I picked up a particular goodie outta it. A corsair Pulse Cannon, or, “Borroco’s” as there called.
I tried to outfit it, the equipment dealer told me not to, that it’d blow out every single one of my systems, but I had to, I almost, as my dad put it earlier, ended up as an interstellar vapor cloud.
So I mounted it.
I had my gases and I was ready to go, but then it happened.
Right as I left the docking bay, I picked up about 30 new contacts on my radar, Birmingham started flashing, guns going on line, ships coming out to defend no, that’s not the right word for it.
Ships coming out to be obliterated.
That’s more like it.
More contacts after that came in from the other direction.
Then my instruments showed me that every comm.
Frequency exploded with a message coming from every ship.
“GAIA WILL NOT BLEED!”
a collective of 60 or so voices said at once, sending a shiver down my spine.
Right after that I immediacy realized who it was.
A radical eco-terrorist group known as “Gaians.”
I had heard my College biology professor whom everyday I engaged in heated debates from everything from philosophy to poltics speak of them a lot.
About how, they were only “Fighting for the greater good of Sirius’s wildlife.”
One week later, a knock came to the classroom door.
“Come in!”
the thin, gray haired teacher called, as calm as could be.
3 armed forces officers, a tall, pug-nosed colonel with a \ scar stretching from his left-ear down over his eye, just nicking his lips, and strung down his neck like a snake