Just another day...

[Blighter]

It's just another day on Freeport 9 after the rush-hour, change of shifts for the staff, techies working on the station's systems, people doing clean-up duty, loading-bay workers checking the cargo shipments that came in during the last hours, Bounty hunters, Corsairs, Freelancers and Zoners working on their ships, equipment dealers restocking the supplies 'till the next bunch of independents stop by, maintenance crews running damage control... just another day.
Feelin' like having a drink before you get some rest you go to one of the bars on this remote installation, the "Waltzin' Smuggler's". After downing your third "Black Outcast" you notice a woman dressed in a Corsair flightsuit walk in, her steps quick and graceful, her shoulder-long black hair waving as she walks by and ultimately takes a seat at a table occupied by half a dozen Bounty Hunters.

~"She's got spunk!" you think to yourself, when suddenly the bartender approaches you with a broad grin on his face.
-"Couldn't help but notice you've been glancin' at her." - he said, still grinning.
~"Don't think that's your buisness. I'd rather have you get me something stronger than this watered down stuff you call a drink instead of trying yourself at some small-talk."
-"Whoa, easy there pal!" - he then said, his grin turning into a stern gaze.
-"Just thought you were interested in a lil' storytellin'." - there was his broad grin again.
~"Storytelling, eh? Fine, as long as you don't bore me to death and finally get me something that doesn't go down my throat like water."
-"Hahaha!" - an honest sounding laugh this time - "Well, how 'bout I tell ya her story pal? Just lemme get the good stuff!" - he turned around and vanished into the backroom, just to get back with a bottle of "Old Hickory" rum. The stuff was so good, and so rare around the edges of Sirius, that there were rumors around how some pirates would jump at eachother's throats just for a crate full of it.
-"That'll do. It's from my personal stash, just don't go tellin' anyone, dun' wanna everyone beggin' me for it." - grinning again, but with a look in his eyes that propably would've killed a lesser man.
~"Allright, guess listening to you's the least I can do at this point. Pour me some and tell me about her."
-He brought up two new glasses, and filled them to the top.

-"Well pal, first off, Her name's Alexa Cordova.
At first glance she's yer' typical Corsair, quick to the point, efficent, resourceful in anything she be doin' and not very talkative. She was born as the child of a Corsair fighter pilot, name's Daniel Cordova, and a Zoner shipwright, that'd be Natalya Blumfeld. She spent most of her young years aboard cargo haulers and space stations, such as Freeport 9, the Tripoli Shipyard, Leon in Omega-41 and Cadiz in Omega-5. Unlike her mother, which, from what I've been hearin', lives a mostly peaceful life on Crete now and never had much love left for the dangers of space, and much less combat in the first place, she has always been drawn to the "existence-threatenin'" darkness of the Omega systems, the vast unexplored reaches of the Omicrons, the adrenaline rushes when flying under fire and the pretty explosions of ships being set ablaze in a cloud of leaked H-Fuel. Especially big ships. The bigger the better. I'd say she has a fetish for explosions. You get to know her and you'll understand, pal."

~"You sound like you've had some experience in that field."
-"Who knows pal, it dun' matter. Story's 'bout her, not 'bout the bartender on a Freeport who spends his days listenin' to gossip and makin' a livin' by servin' drinks to youngsters who think they be great fighter pilots." - something like sadness flashed on his face for a second.
~"Heh, got your point, go on, but keep the glass full."
-"Wha, hey, slow down with it, will ya? Tis' good stuff!"
~You hear laughter coming from the table she sat down at, so you turn around to see Bounty Hunters apparently sharing jokes with a Corsair... as some light falls on her face, you notice the scar running across her left cheek.
-"Ah, ye seen it." - he said with a serious look on his face. "Tis' both an ugly and a shiny part of her goin'. Y'know about the final trial young Corsair pilots must undertake before being accepted into the forces?"
~"Never heard of it. Tell me."
-"Tell ya everythin' slowly pal, everythin' slowly. Once ye get through all the necessary trials before it, you got to fly into a giant nebula, "Malvada Cloud" is the name. Once you get there you gotta retrieve an artifact from the place that lurks beyond the jumphole there and come back to where you started at.
~"Doesn't sound like a thing that's very hard to do."
-"Oh tis' harder than it sounds. You get sent inside the center of it, then through a jumphole to hell, and that in a second-line Legionnaire.
But that's not that bad, Bounty Hunters tend to crawl around there all the time, lookin' for the next Corsair to take to the so-called "authorities." And that ain't the worst either." - He started to lower his voice until it was almost a whisper. - "The core of the cloud and what lurks beyond the jumphole, while not bein' too rich in artifacts in the first place, is occupied by-" - He looked around, as if he wanted to make sure no one heard the words that were about to leave his mouth. - "-Nomads. they crawl around the center of it, as if it was a sacred place for 'em, much as a church is for some."
~"Nomads? I thought there weren't any left after the war?"
-"That's what the "authorities" say. - He looked as if saying the word "authorities" would leave a bitter taste in his mouth - "It ain't pretty. Anyway, she undertook the trial when she was 20, that's late for a new pilot, and she barely made it back. Her ship's been on fire, both wings had been blown off, she was really beaten up. Once she landed, she was immediatly taken into medical, where she fell into a coma. Her mother blamed her father for giving her the foolish idea to become a part of the forces in the first place and an unbridgeable gap between 'em grew from that point. But that ain't all pal, the artifact she brought back was in a damaged 'n worthless state. While the flight recorder data showed she had taken on three Hammerheads in her lil' ship while gettin' the darned thing, it was so badly damaged and burned that it didn't pass as an artifact, but rather a worthless piece o' junk. For the instructors, who were more than impressed by her combat prowess, she still had failed the trial according to the traditional rules. And y'know how them Corsairs are with their traditions. Everyone was thinkin' that she better never wake up, as failin' the trial and comin' back is a far more worse and dishonorable thing than diein' during it. In fact, people thought she'd take her own life should she wake up and realize what happened. But that wasn't the case. Y'see, if a Corsair fails the trial, it's either 'cause he died during it, or 'cause he aborted it for whatever reason. After that one usually pursues another path, or ends his life to restore his honor. She was different, when she woke up eleven years later all she wanted was to repeat the trial. Now this ain't somethin' that had been done before, so it raised a lot of interest, even among a lot of the Elders. 'Twas decided at first that she wouldn't be allowed to do it, but then it's rumored that her father gave up everythin' for her to repeat the trial. If the rumors I've heard back then are true, he did somethin' gruesome that got him sent into exile.
Well, whatever it was, thanks to it she was allowed to repeat it. She swore that should she not make it, she'd take her life, but as y'see it didn't come to that." - He took a mouthful of "Old Hickory" and showed his broad grin again. - "She went in without a word, and came back with a badly beaten ship. The instructors were furious when they saw how bad in shape 'twas, it must've been magic that held that thing together, so bad did it look - but once she climbed outta the cockpit and opened the cargo hold, they couldn't believe their eyes!" - He looked towards her as she walked out of the bar, smiling.
~"What was inside? C'mon, I want to hear the rest of it!"
-He kept looking towards her until she disappeared behind an automatic door - "What? Ah, yes, you won't believe it, they didn't either. - He took a deep breath and another mouthful of rum. - "The hold was filled with Artifacts in top condition - and a piece of what appeared to be some Nomad weaponry!"
~"You kidding me? You don't go up against Nomads and survive! Much less in a Legionnaire!"
-"Well pal, that's what everyone'd think these days. But she did it. It's been that fight she got that scar from. One of the computer consoles inside her ship went "poof" when that thing landed a hit on her. You dun' believe it, ask her yourself." - He looked angry as he said the last sentences. - "Or go to Cadiz' flyin' academy's main plaza and take a look at the weapon yourself - that is, if you can find it and they allow ye to access it. Anyway, from that one day on, she was accepted into the forces with open arms, and she's been provin' herself day after day,
be it around the Omegas, the Omicrons, hell I've heard she's even been around Bretonia space. But that ain't enough.
Rumor has it she joined the infamous Omega Pirates Guild these days, but y'know how it is with rumors pal. All I know is that she's came 'ere with that barge outside, - He pointed at a Corsair gunboat outside the window. - the "Unprecedented". You don't get to fly that thing in the forces often these days, they're outdated 'n require a lot of skill 'n work to put into, so that's pretty much somethin' the Guild uses mostly now." - He emptied his glass.
~"Wow, I'm impressed, c'mon, tell me more!"
-"Not today pal." - He showed his broad grin another time. - "Closin' time, even an old bartender needs to take a break afterall. Lemme git ya somethin'." - He disappears into the backroom again,
and comes back a minute after with two bottles of "Old Hickory" in his hands. - "Those'll be yours pal."
~"Thought that was your personal stuff, why you givin' them to me?"
-"Let's just say I haven't had a good listener here for quite a time. Now git outta my bar!"

You stand up and walk out of the bar slowly and the bartender vanishes in the backroom again.
On your way out you notice a picture of the man that must've been taken quite a few years ago.
He's wearing what appears to be an old-fashioned Corsair flightsuit, and you try to make out the letters on it. - "D- Da- Dan- Daniel and that there's a C- Cor- Huh? Could it be?"
The lights go out, you take a last look towards the backroom and walk out of the bar, puzzled.