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Bakamono · (This post was last modified: 10-20-2012, 02:19 AM by Bakamono.)

My name's Topper, and to know me; i guess it's best to understand something about my family. My dad (Marley) was the son of a navy pilot (Baxter o'harley), and a DSE engineer (sam carter), he worked for the Discoverer (Sirius News), and was killed during the nomad war (as so many fathers were)..i was five at the time, so i don't really have a clear memory of him; all i have are his articles and screens that he made. I sometimes muse, that's where my curious nature comes from. Mom calls him a 'hero', nana-sam calls him a 'damn fool', and pops-Kale used to call him a 'batso truth zealot' whatever that means..
My mom used to be a scientist; now she runs goods for interspace, and is the daughter of Kale and alia. I now know that Kale was a smuggler, and i never did find out what my nana-alia used to do; she's retired now on L.A, living comfortably on the creds she got after pops-Kale died peacefully last year. My mom and dad had two kids, myself; and my brother cooper (we call him coop).
The series of 'hilarious' practical jokes that would colour my life,started when i was 14 years old:
I was allowed to ride along with my grandpa-Kale on one of his runs. After muttering and tinkering with the controls for a while, he stops, sticks me in a flightsuit, and me to go outside and check the fuel lines; so out the airlock i go tethered to the ship like a balloon, next thing i know the ship starts moving again, and bumps me a straight 2 clicks from the ship. I grab for the threadbare line, yelping in suprise, and I hear him Gigglin over the comms at my flustered outburst:
"jus a joke there topper, i'll reel ya in once we get close to the lanes,hehe."
So he towed me a few clicks, whilst i blacked out from the g-force,
I awoke in a medbay on l.a; dazed with bad shoulder. Nana-alia took care of me whilst i got myself together, and told me that granpa would be back soon enough. i sometimes thought about how to get him back, but that soon faded in a moment of his company.
So, i spent a lot of time listening to one of my grandparents stories, whilst mom would dissapear on another of her cargo-runs; IC certainly kept her busy. Sometimes i think i'm closer to my grandparents, since i spent more time with them, and i still do nowadays; visiting them, bringing them out-of-system-gifts, and it's usually one of their places i stay when i need to feel earth under my feet. Though i didn't get to know my grandpops baxter, i would sit and watch his screens as a child; i would be fascinated by his use of navy jargon, eccentric demeanor, and the way he spoke of his adventures. It is baxters voice i hear when my conscience is disturbed.
My brother coop (on the other hand) seems to have inherited pops-Kales' mischevious side: recently, Coop went with me on a run from kusari, we we're in gallileo, and the genius ruins my gate transponder; and leaves me stranded, hiding in gas clouds and changing position every other flash; til i finally hailed a friendly trader, who helped me out with it.
Coops' latest hijinks left me shipless in pennsylvania, with barely a mil on my account, and an amused comm saying he'd see me in the Taus'; So here i am slowly crawling my way along, in the hopes of getting into the tau systems: running the blockade at leeds was gonna be tough; more than once i'd seen ships caught in the crossfire, battered or worse. So i hitched out, traded for a barely working camara (stripped of weapons and nav) and started planning my next trick to payback old coop.
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Nana-alia: Twilight, Planet L.A:
i stepped softly into the glass walled sundrenched conservatory; sun beams highlighting the lazily-drifting smoke that hung in the air. Grandma was sittin in her usual media-recliner, wearing a floral-print dress in puse, with her streaming cigarette-holder seemingly 'fused' to her hand. The sunlight poured into her half of the room during these twilight hours, painting everything golden-bright; as i approached her, the huge-dark aviators glasses she wore and her broad sun-hat, shadowed her face, eclipsing her keen eyes.
"Topper, how is my favourite granson this glorious day?" she questioned warmly. "and what have you brought your ancient gramma? some tobacco? something from the borders?nothing to do with that texas noise i hope.." her gaudy jewellery jingled merrily as she gestured her disatisfaction with modern music. .."
I greeted her queries smiling and gestured westward; where outside the delivery ship was carefully lowering a golden statue onto the expanse she called a lawn.
She chuckled "you shouldn't have dear; all the way from dublin i assume 18 carat? And what's that she holding..a torch or a sword? well it's lovely dear, your gramma thanks you very much." I gently hugged her fragile form. An evening of old times, current events, tea and biscuits ensued.
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Recent History:
After trading for some time, i became a miner. Having never fired a shot in anger (and not having the weapons to do so), nor destroyed a vessell; I have a pretty clean rep: i'm lawful, about as lawful as you can get. Even the pirates that i pay don't hate me, it's all just business. I have only one ally as far as my id is concerned: the zoners. After aquiring a ship with a hold too big to mine, i became an independant trader, and part-time explorer. I've helped a few lost pilots, and helped a few get into the right business (legal). Despite the peaceful existence i lead, i still find violence and war at every corner of sirius. i mined the gold for grammas statue myself (which was a huge labour of love), and now nana-sam has sent me a vague wave about research materials..So, i'm hopping systems in my love of liberty, true-blue mammoth, awaiting my reunion with coop.
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Wing: After my latest flight, things started to become murkier still: My perspective on the moral line of 'lawful' was about to be tested.
It was a grey flight, i was running cobalt through N.Y, when i happened upon one of grampa-kale's ex-cadets Sholen Kolesh. We got to talking and he offered to fly wing for me; which was real fortunate on account the beatin i'd been taking recently: those hessians never let up.
Kolesh is a hedonist from what i can tell, we sounds drunk most of the time, he was drunk when i met him; and he's forgotten most of his past: i had to remind him about grampa and the LN, which still only invoked a vague response, he seems fried but able nonetheless.
We crossed paths with an arrow pilot 'Cat' in texas, a pirate, i ask Kolesh to spare 'em, and I payed 'em the booty for their audacity. Further down through Rhineland Kolesh cleared the way; havoc ensued.
I knew that the RM would flip if they knew these conductors were from liberty; but i knew the goods were solid: so my conscience was clear. We decided to go around the military, rather than lie to 'em and made the drop and split the spoils.
After a spell on baden-baden, we headed into the dreaded omegas. After some long trekking and radioactive goodness, we ran into the infamous Omega pirates guild; in exchange for our lives, they sent us on a run, and whilst careful to tread the line of law; we can't break our word once given, and so on our illicit way we went: Thankful for mercy and a little scared of fate.
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It's been a while now since the OPG incident; since then it's Kale's addages and phrases that repeat in my mind, and i find i'm often testing the line of right and wrong. Still, i've managed to remain peaceful, but i fear that may change after what i did to coop. I saw coop up in tau 23; so i hired a hooker from barrier station to slide her way on board, with a crate of wine and cardamine. I cross-wired his engines, whilst myself and the hooker got the heck out and left him for the CR to deal with, ha. If they tore him a new one, i'm sure his retribution will be twice as bad.
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So along the way on another berylium run in rhineland, i decided to take some relief on hamburg. After a few drinks, I got to card playing in a now smoky bar, lost a fair share; something i'm used to now. Things suddenly got a lot worse, as the barman approaches with a communque: I almost vomited when i read the news that nana-sam was real sick; critical in a ward on curcao. A suit that i lose to tells me he's a doctor, and wouldn't mind taking a look at her. At curcao nanas' hand clasped at mine weakly, as a team of scrubs filled the room. They moved her to a better facility and begun work, as i was ushered out of the theatre.
After the surgery, which was gonna cost a whole boatload (not mention the aftercare), the guy reassures me and tells me "not to worry about it.." and that i can do him a favour. So, we got to talking business, and worked out a freight contract; i make a few runs he can't, and pay him a percentage for a while. So, i headed to see nana-alia on L.A; where she was good enough to mention a few of gramp-kales old friends, i think she suspected what i was about to get into. So thesedays, i tread the fine line between warring factions, trying to make enough to move nana-alia to baden-baden, perhaps nana-sam to curacao.
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