Name: Alexander Cooper
Age: 25
Height: 5' 11"
Weight: 198 lbs
Eye Color: Brown
Hair Color: Blond
Journal # 1:
Stupid teachers are making all of us keep a journal. Says it's supposed to "open our minds to the process of creating new ideas." I think it's a bunch of bull. Anyway. Pulled my master prank today. Managed to rig a small compression bomb in the sewer pipes underneath the girls' locker room. When it blew, so did the sewer. Crap spilled out the toilets and sinks. It was freakin HILARIOUS. All the chicks in the bathroom came streaming out, and some of them were buck naked.
Can't pull another prank for a few weeks though, they'll be watching.
Journal #2:
Stupid, stupid me! I should have known they'd be checking our journals. Probably just another way for the teachers to keep an eye on us. Well, not anymore. I hacked into the transmitter on our pads. The teach can't check my journal anymore, and I've rigged it to give him someone else's journal whenever he tries to read mine. Might have to step up one of my pranks now...
Journal #3:
Somehow, SOMEHOW, they got wind of my plan. And now I'm gone from that school. Bloody jerks, barely managed to sneak my journal out. Well, now it's completely protected, with double sets of passwords and a cryptolock. Noone will be getting in again.
Caught hell from my parents though. Went on and on about how hard it is to get people to teach me, and how much money it costs. Yet they still manage to find someplace for me. Apparently now, they're going to get me a private tutor. Joy.
Journal #4:
Well, so much for the tutor. Scared her away with another one of my classic pranks. Let's just say, make sure your softscreen is off at night. Wonder what my parents are going to do now.
Journal #5:
Well, I found out. They're sending me off to military academy. MILITARY ACADEMY. What the heck. Now I gotta sit in with all the blockheads who are in the navy, take orders from people I don't know. This will be hell.
Journal #6:
First day at West Point. Not half bad here. Met some new friends, hacked into the security systems from my 'screen. Got full range of the Academy's computers, all in the palm of my hand.
Tomorrow, they're letting us sim on the Guardian tomorrow. Sweet. Ship with guns. I mean, I've flown dad's speeder before, but that was atmo. This is space. I screw up, I die. And that's what makes it exhilirating.
Journal #7:
Gunny came down and chewed me out. Seems that they noticed me hacking into the systems. Got put in the brig for a day, and they've wiped my security stuff from my 'screen. Left me my journal though. I think Gunny rifled through it a bit.
Still got my chance to fly the Guardian though, was a sweet ship.
Journal #8:
Wow. I have not written in this thing for a while. I think I've been too busy training and drilling. Tomorrow's graduation, and I managed to pull up my grades from the hole where I started from. I'm graduating in the middle of my class, and they've put me on assignment. Apparently Gunny remembered my hacking skills, and they've put me on special assignment in Alaska. Wonder where that planet is. I've never heard of it.
Journal #9:
Alaska isn't a planet. And neither is it a cushy assignment. Inbetween me hacking away at some Odd tech, I've been placed into a fighter, supposedly defending the station from something, but so far I haven't seen anything in the sky. No, that's a lie. I've seen some flashes of light, almost like weapon fire, from further in the cloud. But, my CO says to not worry about it, and our patrol doesn't take us near it, so oh well.
Journal #10:
I'm in deep trouble, at least, I think I might be. I stumbled upon an unmarked door in the Shipyard. Being curious, I hacked into it, and opened it up. It was like nothing I've ever seen before. Gotta be some kind of alien, but I thought we were alone in this universe. I don't know if they know I got into that room, but I've not been able to sleep for the past few days, and my squad buddies are starting to notice. I'm up in the rotation tomorrow, we're heading out to do another patrol. I don't know if I'll be able to do it, I'm so tired.
Journal #11:
Oh God, oh God... We were out on patrol, right? And we were called into Juneau to assist with a LSF/Navy task force, bringing in something. Something big. They had got it settled into one of the moors, and techs were crawling all over it, poking and prodding, trying to figure out what made it tick, trying to find a door.
Apparently, they hadn't secured it as well as they thought, or a tech poked in the wrong place. It fired. Big pulse laser, right into the middle of my squad. XO, Piggy, John, Mike, Squint, all dead in a second. The Captain was damaged, and my engine got fried. I must have hit a thruster before I got hit, because all of a sudden, my ship started tumbling off towards space. Noone knew where I was, where I was going, the blast damaged my transmitter.
I got tagged by a ship, though. I don't know who it was, but they didn't look like they were flying a liberty ship. Something... botched up, a jumble of parts from different sectors. I don't care though, the rescue teams found the beacon, and dragged me in. I got a short burst to the ship though, before the rescue ships came, and he left. And I got something in return. Noone knows about it, and it's on this pad. Noone will know about it, I think. I'd probably get shot right after, if I told someone.
Journal #12:
Got some leave, due to the destruction of my squadron. They're putting me back in there, though. Right after I get back, right into the hellhole where I lost my buddies. Cap'n got reassigned. Off in some forsaken system. I dunno why they want me and not him, but I don't think I'm going to stay. The coded transmission I got from that fighter turned out to be an Order transmission. The terrorist group, if you listened to the government. All that it is, is a short message about the Order, and a contact code. I sent a message to that code, and they told me to get out of where I was, and I did. I'm going to bounce around for a bit. Call them back when I think I'm safe. Oh, God... what went wrong.
Sir Michael Brown (BMM-Bristol(T)) - Bretonia Mining and Metals, Trader, Captain of the Bristol Ensign John Thomas ([QCR]John.Thomas/[QCR]John_Thomas) - Queen Carina's Royal Fleet, Regular Pilot Christopher "Chris" Armstrong (Armstrong) - Unioner pilot, Independant Crewman Alexander Cooper (Bs|Alex.Cooper) - Order pilot, Black Squadron
