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+--- Thread: The life of a junker... (/showthread.php?tid=8106)
The life of a junker... - Serval - 04-26-2008
Vaughn stared out the window of the bornholm bar, watching the flashes and explosions in the distance stirred up by constant conflict between corsairs and hessians. None of the junkers in Omega 15 was fond of either faction, these disputes started above their home were a danger to the station, and neither the corsairs nor the hessians had any respect for the junkers caught in the middle of their fights. Worse yet, both sides would actively pirate junker vessels in the surrounding scrap field for resources to continue their petty war, and even had the nerve to land on Bornholm and demand supplies and weaponry - often starting fights onboard the station with one another when they met.
Such was the price to pay for remaining nuetral in the thick of things.
"Sometimes I wonder if our profit margins are even worth this hassle..." Mumbled the barkeep.
Vaughn motioned for his mug to be refilled, slammed the vile ale, and headed down to the airlocks. He was descended from a long bloodline of criminals and revolutionists. His father, Daniel Rollins, had been a liberty rogue fighting the state. His mother, Kyra Vaughn, was a red hessian herself, struggling against the Rheinland Reichstag. Years ago she had assisted a group of rogues in a jailbreak in return for resources, and it was in that jailbreak she met Rollins.
He had only one living relative, who also served as the only crew onboard his ship other than himself - his little runt of a sister, Kaylee Vaughn. She was young, and as innocent as the daughter of a criminal pair could be, but a genius mechanic. If not for her, his ship would have been adrift in space years ago due to disrepair. She kept him running and he gave her a home aboard Serval, his salvage ship.
"Well well, what do have we here? Chris Vaughn... I do believe I see a dead man walking, eh Carl?"
Vaughn spun around to face the threat. "Jimmy and Carl, thought you boys were dead?"
"Sorry to dissapoint, Chris. We ain't dyin' until we gets our money - the money you've owed us for six months!"
"I told you Jimmy, I'll get your damn money. You know well as I do the salvage jobs 'round here are a mite dangerous right now."
Jimmy pulled his gun from it's holster. "Not my problem, Chris. When I'm owed I get paid, in credits or blood - you pick."
Vaughn knew Jimmy wouldnt give a second thought to murduring a fellow junker in the name of greed. While junkers generally considered each other family, this one was particularly vile and malevolent. He should have joined the bounty hunters, or maybe the Xenos... they had a likeness of mind with Jimmy.
"you got one week, Vaughn. Get my money, or get dead." Jimmy flipped the gun around with a quick snap, and knocked Vaughn cold with the butt end. "That'll teach him to pay his debts on time... Let's go Carl."
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Vaughn woke to a cold rag on his brow, and his sister's voice. "You ok Chris? What'd you get yerself into this time?"
Vaughn sat up and groaned, still groggy and lightheaded from the pistol whip to his head. "Ugh... Just old 'friends'. Kaylee, get the ship started, we got work to do."
"Aye cap'n!"
Vaughn watched his sister skip off towards the airlock like nothin had happened, and mumbled under his breath; "Wish I hadnt pulled that girl into this life, that kind of innocense dont deserve it"
// I'll continue when the server crashes again =P
The life of a junker... - Serval - 04-26-2008
Chris hit the airlock control panel, cursing under his breath "Blasted peice of scrap!"
"ya dont gotta be so rough with 'er cap, here..." Kaylee brushed him aside and jogged the airlock switch a few times, taking only seconds to get the door closed. "Just needs some love is all!"
"Kay... sometimes I wonder about you." he said, turning around and heading towards the cockpit. "Get the reactor fired up, I owe some dangerous folk a lot of money and I dont intend to die for it. We're headed to Walker."
"The nebula? Dangerous out there..." Kaylee remarked, with a nervous hint in her voice.
"Mayhaps, but where there's danger, there's fortune. A lot of ships have gone down in that nebula and I intend to find something worth selling." Chris turned around and continued to the cockpit. "One million credits... Gotta be something out there worth that debt."
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Chris opened a comm link to Bornholm while powering up Serval's systems; "Bornholm, Serval detaching moor."
A crackling voice full of static replied over the comm "Roger Serval, good Junking!"
Chris deactivated the mag-clamps holding Serval to the station and gently backed the ship away, spinning her around at five-hundred meters out. It took several minutes to pilot out of the scrap field - one mistake and a peice of floating wreckage could tear off an engine, cause a hull breach, or fry the ship's reactor. More modern ships had sufficient armor or shielding to withstand minor impacts, but Serval was a Firefly-class transport... one of the oldest ships still running in Sirius space. She was reliable, but fragile, despite all the refitting sustained over recent years since Chris salvaged the ship from the Pequena Negra.
Chris opened the inter-ship comm; "Kaylee, we're clear of the field, fire up cruise"
Her high-pitched and cheery voice replied over the speaker imbedded in the ship's dash "aye cap'n!"
The engines whined and sputtered a bit, sending vibrations reverberating through the interior of the ship until cruise finally kicked in, lurching the ship forward at 350 meters per second. Despite interial dampeners onboard the vessel, Chris still felt the G-forces suck him into the pilot's seat as they lunged into cruise speed.
He hit a switch on the dash, causing a holo-map of the system to be projected in front of him. One gentle turn later and they were headed right for an arm of the Walker nebula.
He spoke over the shipboard comm again "kaylee, we'll be inside Walker within ten minutes, head down to the cargo bay and ready the salvage equipment."
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