Sable's Experiences

[Toaster]

//No longer canon.

October 28, 828 A.S.

Olivia awoke to the sound of a fist pounding against the Sickle's canopy. Wearily, she cracked her eyes open and found herself still lying on the ship's deck, curled up between the storage locker on one wall and her bunk recessed into the other. Tucked against her, her arms wrapped tightly around it, was the crystal orb. It glowed dully, much of its light dissipated as it often did when she held it for longer periods.

The mercenary clambered to her feet, muscles aching from her uncomfortable resting place, and carefully placed the sphere atop her bunk. She looked around the ship's interior, noticing that everything stood at a slight tilt. She furrowed her brows. The pounding coming from outside the cockpit grew louder. Someone shouted, though she couldn't make out the words through the thick glass.

Where was she? Shaking her head to rid herself of her drowsiness, she reached up and rubbed her temples. Something had happened last ... night? What time was it even? Wary, she stepped up to the access hatch just behind the cockpit and thumbed the touchpad beside it. The hatch slid open and a set of steps extended from the hull to the hangar deck outside. The mechanism whirred angrily as the tilted angle of the ship kept it from fully extending.

Olivia glanced out across the bay, frowning. It looked rather familiar...

"Oh, it's you," a voice came from her left. She glanced over and saw a man in an oil-stained coverall round the Sickle's nose, arms crossed. He scowled at her. She recognized him.

"Manchkin," Olivia muttered, relaxing. The old junker shook his head as though disappointed, then nodded at her ship.

"Did you have to scrape up my deck like that?"

Olivia stepped down onto the hangar's floor and turned to inspect her craft. The paint along its belly was scratched up badly where the hull had struck the deck. She glanced at the starboard wing, its tip dented slightly and resting on the floor.

"Sorry," she sighed. Then she cast a sidelong look at the dockmaster, Manchkin, and smirked. "Not like it looks any worse."

The older man threw up his arms in exasperation and strode off angrily, calling over his shoulder, "Beaumont deserves better."

Olivia sat down on the short steps leading back into her ship, which had finally given up on trying to fully extend. She rested her elbows on her knees and her head in her hands and took a deep breath. Images flashed through her mind. Rocks slowly tumbling through space. A group of small ships scattering in a panic. An enormous, glowing, blue shape appearing from out of nowhere. A brilliant flash of light. A chase through the rocks.

Right, Olivia thought, lifting her head again and gazing out over the hangar bay, watching the bustle of activity as mechanics and dockworkers hurried about from ship to ship. More Nomads.

Memory finally came to her. She had been in Hudson, flying alongside Morreti and Locke, the strange researcher Abrams, and a freelancer, when another joined them. What had been the ship's name? Pennybrooke? Olivia closed her eyes, trying to sort through the images. They had all been chatting amiably, Morreti and her joking around, when the Pennybrooke activated a hyperspace beacon and summoned an enormous Nomad ship right on top of them. They had all scattered wildly, putting as much distance between themselves and the alien vessel as possible. The Pennybrooke's pilot had actually spoken to it, referring to it as her ... girlfriend?

Olivia shook her head at the thought, then continued remembering. Abrams, that god damned moron, had chased after the two ships, even when the Nomad reopened a breach into hyperspace. She had tried to go after him, keep him from getting too close, but Morreti stopped her. Then, the Pennybrooke and her Nomad disappeared in a flash of light, leaving behind only a smaller alien. They had all gone after it. Olivia winced at the memory. She had felt so angry at it. Why? It probably didn't matter. They had swarmed the small form and destroyed it, scattering its remains across the asteroid fields.

Then, her head had exploded. Or at least it had felt that way. A migraine, more sudden than any before, had practically blinded her. She had fled, first towards Barrow, but something had made her turn away. The stranger who resided there, the man in black with the strange-looking ship. Who was he? She had asked around on the station, but no one could say. Or no one would. Either way, something about him told her that she couldn't use the crystal orb with him around, and so she had set course for Texas and somehow managed to make it all the way up here, to Beaumont.

"Jesus Christ," Olivia muttered and lay back onto her ship's deck, feet dangling from the hatch. She stared up at the Sickle's compartment's ceiling and wondered, as she so often did these days, why her life had gotten so messed up. Migraines, murders, aliens. It often seemed like she couldn't rely on anyone or anything to make sense anymore. She strained her neck and glanced over at her bunk, the strange, blue sphere still resting on top of it, giving off its familiar, blue glow. At least she could rely on it, if nothing else.

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Olivia Sable