Andrew and Walter Burke had made a tradition of celebrating their respective births atop the wreck of the Alabama as long as they rated to fly a freighter's load of water between Xeno bases. Her warped hulls cut from the light of Tau-45's distant sun were too genuinly unsafe to warrant exploration by any but the most hardy engineers, but sitting in a pair of magneticly attached lawn chairs atop her bridge whilst sipping whiskey through suit packs gave the twins a laugh.
Once or twice a passing flight had left their mark in the scard hull. The legacies of wings and pilots were laid out across the vessel's broken hull, the closest thing to public history that many of them would ever see. It was always an interesting sight to see, these passing fighters giving one last tribute to their names before passing through from the relative security of their home system.
They didn't think much of the passing wing of freighters beyond raising an empty pair of mugs at them in salute. Then the Slave Liner appeared. Andrew jumped to his feet as the massive vessel spawned itself out of light a shipslength away. Her already darkened hull now truly scorched, atmosphere burning from stress fissures along the width of her hull. Her windows were as dark as her engines and the bulk began to slowly turn with the puff of impacting debris. The freighters were quick to attach tow cables and begin to move their prize towards Alamo, engineering crews spidering along the relative threads of the cables to vanish amongst the vessel's cracks, presumably to begin the process of keeping her together.
"That" Andrew said with a chuckle "Was pretty daggon uniF$@# MY A@#" Walter jumped to his feet with force to launch himself violently into space, being saved only by the harness cable attached to their blazer. A Liberty Dreadnought towered above them, its hull alight with fire from the surrounding platforms lashing out at the vessel with a vengence; swiftly transforming the small berth of the 45 asteroid field into a killing field. A single bomber flashed into being behind it and began to fire upon the vessel, aiding in the assault. The massive vessel performed a slow turn, seemingly leisurely despite the ruinous fire being rained upon it. Then it vanished, trailed seconds later by the bomber.
Today was one of glorious success but very nearly one of horrendous loss. I performed a critical error in judgement which may have been the ruin of us all.
I began my patrol slightly ahead of schedule in Colorado, electing to stand vigil over the Ontario jumphole whilst waiting for the rest of the squadron to arrive. As luck should have it, perspective demanding of course, I had the fortune of encountering one Stellar_Odyssey and Charlie_CharlesI provided them with the usual option, they declined. The Odyssey managed to make good his escape, mooring with Pueblo's plant but with substantial hull damage to his name.
I joined with Death Adder, Pitviper, Sunbeam and Czerwony Pazdzirnik to cleanse a Outcast incursion in Kepler, an incursion which fled upon sighting our return comment. A cap 8 Outcast Trident and two Sabers fled for Ames station, one of the fighters being smoked up the tailpipe by Czer whilst in its docking proce..
Wait, Czerwony Pazdzirnik? Who the hell is that. Sound like we're recruiting out of the SCRA or somesuch.
Again, however, in Kepler as luck would have it (again perspective) we chanced upon Charlie_Charles yet again in the dark matter field. This time he considered my offer to spare his life in return for tribute to the Xeno cause by dropping his cargo.
We returned to Colorado, from which our plan was to press into New York to perform propaganda and cargo interdiction when we were taken out of the lane by an exceptionally lucky, as time would tell, Bounty Hunter who ended up with a little more than he could chew. BHG|Core-Vash.Stampede was ignored for a few moments as we debated which amongst us was going to kill him, when our own Czerwony won my inspired dice roll to assume the honor. We settled back to watch the show, which proved be sadly short, a trio of passes later the hunter was dead. Then some Junker showed. Then some GMGshowed. All were dealt with.
Ah then something about me promoting Scarlet King to the rank he was already at but let's not talk about that.
*coughs*
Ahem, then to carry on with this rather dreary monologue we proceeded, being joined by Sidewinder, Boomslang and the recently re-promoted and now Royal god help me Skarlet King with aims towards burning to New York. Where we were promptly separated. Word has it they got into a fight with a Junker whilst I busied myself with some fool gateway captain, of the Darrowby, yet another Shire that for some reason decided to make use of his brains rather than his guns. He dropped his cargo amicably in deference of our cause afor I ran off to see what assistance I might give with the junker. Whom I later on put down with a bit of a cannon shot across the bow, to Czer's irritation and dismay.
Then **** hit the fan.
Describing furballs aint my thing. Suffice to say I think we did pretty good, taking out about fourofthem for one of ours before an ion storm blew us all the way of nob.
Cheers to Valence Harper for giving us a hand though, should see about pulling him into the ranks.
Would think it would be time for a bit of a break, but Czer found himself a Mon'Star so we were in a position of heading back to save his ass... Ahh, I seemed to have gotten lost at this point, I was corrected that I was actually <strike>running</strike> returning back to Colorado by mistake. *pause for effect* before I engaged the fight.
I took a pair of dragonfly salvos, which shredded my bird up something awful, but persisted in pressing the issue until the Necrosiswasdisabled. At which point it was time, given that the local law was building up their courage, to scuttle.
While conferring with an associate of mine, Gloom being the only name I know him by, a Liberty Rogue Slaver Liner chose to amble past Ouray as though it owned the place.
I burned after the vessel and proceeded to run it through its paces of demands, hoping to secure the hundred plus bounty hunters it had secured for the benefit of our intelligence divisions. The Rogue declined. Battle was met.
After an extremely fierce back and forth, my light bomber being ill suited for tackling the densely armored hull of the Liner. However a lucky blow began a irreversible process of slow decompression, urging the crew to abandon ship.
The vessel spewed atmosphere, escape pods and thick smoke from one quarter, but held.
I waited, with tense breath, as the fire was sucked out into space. The atmosphere leaks petered out and the vessel hung, gently spinning in space. Silent and empty.
//Links from the perspective of the vessel in question. Held in a folder.
We lost three men, but secured the vessel in addition to a minor remaining compliment of slaves. Alone and with a tender prize I opted to throw caution to the wind and afixed a series of tow cables, intent on dragging the hulk to Tau-45 where it might be put to use.
That was when the Iowa decided to follow us.
I had found Pitviper to come and provide additional escort as I proceeded to carry the Liner at a snail's pace towards 45, any additional speed would have torn her asunder. With a sort of narrow minded desperation I hurtled her through to Kepler then into the hands of the Knight's space engineering corp, who awaited me in the 45 clearing.
That was when I realized I had made a terrible mistake. But didn't attempt to communicate it as such.
The four of us persisted in raining desperate hell upon the battleship as Gunnison began to loom when I landed a lucky shot, somewhere, which initiated a chainreactionwithspectacular result. I cannot express the extent of my relief to see that bastard vessel go up in flames, our secret dying with it.
That's all I have the energy for. David Chambers out.
[color=#FFCC66]** Upload Complete**
David set his padd down with the completion of the upload and rubbed his face, running his hands beneath the frames of his glasses. He hadn't shaved in days and felt like he had one foot in the grave and the other in hell. The sounds of celebrating echoed from across the bar but didn't permeate the dark corner booth from which he opted to submit his report, drink at his side.
He silently toasted to the pilots who'd saved his ass that day, to Skarlet King for making Royal and to the new comrad in Czer and friends lost. He drained his whiskey with a grimace and lay back in the booth, falling quickly into an exhausted slumber.