Not caring much

Part 1 - Early days

See, I wasn’t born per se. That toxic, putrid shithole Deep Space Engineering so lovingly calls Pittsburgh was where I was concieved, that’s true, but I grew to a functioning form in a maternal replicator, in a medical facility on Fort Bush.

The lack of mother’s contanct made me the cold bastard I am today - I guess the cheap Maltese whore slash amateur psychiatrist was (at least partially) right. I was a regular customer at one time, she had enough time to "study" me. I try to put up a mask of niceness for people, but deep down, I don’t really care.

Anyway, so, of course, I did grow up on the Pitt. The smog, or as we delusionally called it, air, killed my father when I was 13. He died a coughing, wheezing, ugly death, and my mother followed about 2 or so years later. Trust me, it was no picknick to be a puberty-driven, self-providing petty thief on the Pitt. I frequently went to bed hungry, that’s even if I had a bed to sleep in. So one night, I had enough of that shit (literally, I said to some hobo that slept some 4 meters away from me, “I’ve had enough of this shit.”)

I snuck in the cargo hangars one night, and slipped onboard a Orbital Spa & Cruise ship headed to Baden Baden. I figured, hey, Spa & Cruise! I’ll get, like, a proper bath or something. It took them about an hour in flight to detect me. Now, stowaways are usually chucked out of an airlock or put to stasis to work off their flight later, but I guess I lucked out - the ship’s captain, Saemus LaGrange he was called, took pity on a smelly teenager that looked like he should be disinfected with a flamethrower before being allowed to step on...

Man, I will never forget it - to step on Cortez! (It was the first stop.) That place... beaches, water, salty wind, seagulls - the sunshine! So anyway, I cleaned up and worked in a resort there for a few years. It was good, I had a small flat, steady income and a place where you can party whenever you’re not working or sleeping.

Then, of course, shit hit the fan when I had drunkenly hooked up with the wife of an Orbital’s senior board member. It probably didn’t help that I hooked up with his son too. (And don’t judge me - what happens on Cortez, stays on Cortez. Unless it’s herpes, that shit follows you around.)

So the board member dude had some criminal ties, and I got framed for stealing some corporate money, and I essentially I got kicked off a planet - and not many people get to say that. I ended up on a police freighter, and got shipped to that goddamn goulag Sugarland.

Part 2 - The Goddamn Sugarland

(To be continued.)

When a nation is called Liberty, you can be damn sure it’s prisons will be horrible. And trust me - Sugarland was the biggest shithole of them all. It was a essentially a work camp - mineral processing, raw materials, alloy production - the lot. A giant, filthy smelter, ran by corporations and maintained by very cheap labor who couldn’t exactly quit whenever it wanted.

I spend almost two years in there.

I almost died twice, once from exposure to toxic fumes (because worker protection is expensive, and we were just prisoners, so no one cared), and once from being shived by a woman who thought I was someone else (literally, I got stabbed three times in the back; as i fell to the floor, she rolled me over, and said “ups, sorry, I thought you were Jack” and then she left me there bleeding). Lucky me, right?

Irony is, the first time I got there, the smell of the station’s air reminded me of Pitts... Same hell, only there’s a sky in Pitts, and on Sugar only cold bulkheads.

So, the stabbing took place about a month or so before I was to be released, so I spent my last weeks in there in the sterile rooms of the infirmary. Which was good, since it was way more tolerable than the rest of the base.

When the time came, I got my papers, boarded the police transport and got dumped on a star port in Houston. You get a ride to the nearest planet only, from there - you’re on your own, baby.

I knew one thing - no one will hire an ex-con. So I said, “screw it, I’m gonna steal me a ship”.

Part 3 - The Theft of Accipiter Annie

(To be continued.)

Now, you have to realize - in a world like the Sirius sector, stealing a person’s ship is considered to be similar to stealing a horse in ancient Texas back on Mommy Earth - if you’re caught, you’ll be swinging from the gallows.

So, with me being an ex-con and all, I succeded in finding only odd jobs with some more or less shady characters, struggling to survive. It was like being back on Pitts, only I was a bit older, and far more experienced.

At the time, I lived in a medium settlement on Houston, called New Alamo, and that place was pretty much ruled by a local crime kingpin called O’Malley. His primary business was smuggling various “gray goods” across the planet from the space port. Though he mostly concentrated on planetary deliveries, he had a number of Rhino-class ships stored in a hangar outside the settlement, for some reason. I found this out when I went to pick up packages (whose contents I was never informed of).

My plan was to sneak into one of those Rhinos and steal it. Problems were, of course, the IFF transponder that needed to be hacked, and I had to get clearance for planetary departure. After several discrete inquiries into how much these would cost me, it became clear that I could never come up with that amount of money on Houston, working as a delivery boy.

Fortunately, I had two things working for me: first, O’Malley was a key player on Houston, and as such was monitored by agents of the LSF, Liberty Police, other interstellar police corporations, and a few mercenary corporations; and second, my discrete inquiries weren’t as discreet as I had hoped they’d be.

I was approached by the Liberty Police agent first; this gorgeous lady offered to fund my escape plan, with a signed pardon by the Liberty Government if I deliver the evidence against O’Malley to the officials on Battleship Mississippi. My plan was using a device she gave me to copy O’Malley’s computer, then use the modified Rhino with BMG samples to escape.

The worst part wasn’t actually getting the info and the samples - I managed to acquire those without any trouble (my thieving day in Pittsburgh proved useful for a change) - it was a police corporation known as the SFP. A thorn in O’Malley’s eye, the SFP was well funded and had both Altair and Sirius-wide contracts to enforce the law, as well as a zero tolerance policy toward ships loaded with (even samples of) Black Marked Goods, as those were officially dubbed. And they too were watching.

When the time came and I had everything I needed to escape, I found out from a friend that O’Malley had found out about my deal with the Liberty Police. Narrowly escaping two teams of his goons, I managed to sneak into the hangar and take off with the prepared Rhino. I set up the IFF to display the ship’s name as Accipiter Annie, after the lovely Liberty Police agent.

Part 5 - Dodging bullets

(To be continued.)

Taking off was surprisingly easy. The authorities cleared my departure from Texas without any problems, and I had police escort for the short cruise to Battleship Mississippi. After I docked, they scanned everything, took some samples and the thingy with the duplicate computer data, and sent me to see agent Annie.

“We have a problem,” she said as I entered the room. “The Rheinlanders want to examine the evidence first hand.”

“Well, invite them to take a look for themselves then,” I replied.

She frowned. “It’s not that simple. They want to look at it on their own terms, they are a bit tricky about the whole thing. They want the ship delivered to Battleship Westfalen in Hamburg, where they have a lab.”

“So what’s the problem,” I asked, “send the ship to Westfalen, it’s not that far.”

“We can’t. Our contract with the SFP allows us to do what we want inside Liberty without worries of them shooting our ships. However, Independent Worlds systems aren’t covered by those contracts, and we can’t risk our pilots to be implicated in what will most likely be interpreted as smuggling BMGs between Houses. Police’s hands are tied,” she said, “but your hands aren’t.”

Damn. “You want me to take that risk for you, dodging coppers you’re friends with?”

“Business partners,” she corrected me, “and yes. You’ll be escorted to the Bering or Hudson jumpgate by the Navy, and there will be Rheinland Military ships waiting for you in Hamburg, that’s all been arranged. Plus, after ship delivery, the Rheinland government has agreed to pay you for both the ship, your services and for your silence. You’ll get a lot of credits, enough to start your life elsewhere.”

I just sat there, staring at the hawk tattoo on her neck. The prospect of starting over was tempting, but the idea of getting shot down by a zealous cop wasn’t.

“Ah, the hell with it - I’ll do it,” were the words I signed my own death warrant.

She took me to the secure dock and pointed at the brand new, mint condition Bullpup Mk. III, dual thrusters, Protector shielding and armored up the wazoo. Shit, I thought, they’re expecting me take a tank to the gauntlet.

They escorted me to the jumpgate, a Cruiser and some Defenders shadowing me all the way. “Good luck, pilot.” Yeah, thanks. I didn’t need luck, I needed a damn miracle.

The jump was clean. Once the particle static cleared, my scanner showed all clean - some Kruger ships jumping to Texas, asteroids rocking away - nothing out of the ordinary.

I took the tradelane to Freeport 2, and just as I was exiting the tradelane, my systems went crazy.

I was being scanned by a flat little ship some 3k away. Coalition design, Lagg class vessel. Shit, I thought, that’s a VHF, armed to the teeth. IFF transponder confirmed my worst fear - police. I knew what his scanner would show - me hauling a crapload of illegal goods through the border world system, looking like a turkey ready for slaughter on Thanksgiving. I fired up the cruise engine.

“HALT! You are carrying illegal commodities - stop and drop your shields!”

The cruise loaded to 73% before I heard the dreaded incoming missile warning - a slick cruise distrupter that left me lugging like an elephant pregnant with twins. I turned toward the sun corona quickly and blasted my thrusters in full burn, shutting the engines off moments after I reached maximum speed. I turned around as cockpit speakers conveyed a calm voice saying, “your choice, smuggler.”

“INCOMING MISSILE.” I wasn’t going to like this. My countermeasures activated, leaving a trail of fizzing devices in my wake. I could see the missile curving as it’s lock focused on one of the CMs. The blast shook my ship like it was a toy.

No more fun and games. Still flying ass first, I opened fire with everything I got. Luckily, the Liberty got the ship pretty well equipped - strong, long range cannons, a few missiles... I fired it all, even my own cruise distrupter.

The CD was my salvation. The policeman didn’t fire his countermeasures on time and his cruise engine was shot to hell. I turned and started charging the cruise, leaving a countermeasure trail behind me. The thing loaded and the engine fired an impressive blast, pinning me to the seat. I flew half blind - the sun’s corona was bombarding me with everything it had, my radiation warning screaming at me to turn away.

Sensors picked up a neutrino particle fountain some 10k away. A jumphole! Damn things were notoriously unstabile and could lead literally anywhere, but properly aligned... I had no choice - with a zealous cop on my six and the sun chipping away my armor, I had to take the risky leap.

The wormhole itself was stabile, leading to a neighboring system. I cruised and entered the wormhole. The ship shook as the stabilizers struggled to keep it in one piece. I jumped out of the tunnel intact, but an energy feedback caused my systems to crash. I was dead in space until my computer got it’s shit together.

The cop appeared above me just in time for my computer to detect it. “Got you now,” said the speakers. My shields went down and a few shots chipped away my aft armor as I struggled to dodge the shots with the bulky Bullpup.

With all my systems screaming at me to get away, I failed to notice an entire squadron of smaller ships bearing down on the cop. Rogues. Damn, never thought I’d be so happy to see a squadron of pirates. The started chipping away at the cop’s shield, deconcentrating him from tearing me to pieces.

I fired my thrusters full throttle and got to hell out of there. Once out of range, I fired up the cruise engine towards a nearby jumpgate.

A message appeared on my screen. “Next time, smuggler. -G”

I stumbled out of the wormhole tunnel with smoke coming from my aft section to find a squadron of Valkyries waiting for me. Best sight in a long time.

“Freelancer 3-15, form up and we will escort you to Battleship Westfalen.” I hit the autopilot, thanking the Rheinlander and the gods of the Universe for a lucky break. Once docked, the engineers tore my ship apart, taking the samples and fixing my ship in the process. I was free, with credits on my name and a solid ship to trade around with.

(Why Gunny? Actually, my first encounter with police in Crossfire was Gunny, shooting at my Bullpup Mk. III somwhere in Bering I think, when I was hauling samples of BMGs I was collecting for trading information, back in 1.7 before I joined PX. That's why. Everything else is just wrapping it up in a story.)

Part 6 - Knighthood

Thanks. Not finished though.

I stayed in Rheinland for a few months, running cargo between systems, even working for the House government occasionally, running prisoner transport from Berlin to Stuttgart. Those were the good times - making money was easy, even with the constant pirate threat looming over the heads of the Rheinländer.

During one such run, I came across a pilot with a callsign Black Arrow. We teamed up in a convoy and got talking about everything, and at one point I asked about his IFF tag, the PX. He explained that they were a mercenary clan that operated in both Sirius and Altair, and inqured if I would be interested in joining. I said I'd think about it.

We parted as friends, and went our separate ways, but his question got me thinking: I wasn't happy just running cargo around Rheinland - I wanted more. The Galactic Network was riddled with informations on the PX tag - the Knights of Mercy.

I decided to join. I contacted Black Arrow, saying "I'm in", sold my assets, and moved to Manhattan to register as a Knight.

I remember vividly how the icy shards of Alaskan nebula looked impressively deadly when I first jumped into what will become my new home. What followed was an intensive training with the Knights, bounty hunts, clashes with both pirates and police parties on a variety of jobs. I loved it. I became a valued member of a close-knit group whose power, wealth and information base was more than considerable.

I won't go into too much details here out of respect to my former clanmates. Suffice to say, it was fun, and an honor.

At one point, my assets were sufficient and I was free to do as I wanted, in terms of my clan involvement. I went on a prolonged vacation to an island resort on Kyushu, and went dark for a better part of the year.

(...)

One morning, I was woken up by a stratoflyer landing on a field next to my cottage. It was a messenger, urging me contact Knights' HQ. I dressed up and he flew me to Kyushu City. What I found there was a nightmare - the local PX office was sealed by order of the Kusari government. I immediately sent a message to a local Dragon contact and he had some disturbing informations: an international treaty was signed by Houses of Sirius as well as the Coalition to outlaw the PX and sieze the entirety of our assets.

I was shocked and furious. The news rippled through the Galactic Network, and doors once opened to me were now closing rapidly.

I had to intervene.

Next up: Part 7 - Dark times

I was out on the street. No money, no assets. I couldn't reach anyone I knew. There was no one to help me. And I was stuck on Kyushu. Gorgeous world, but still an ass end of the Kusari space. It was indeed the lowest point I had ever reached. It was time to cash in a few favors.

First, I contacted a local smuggler with an offer: I'd transport a cargo of his to a Liberty system, provided he finds someone else to return his ship to Kyushu. He gladly accepted: working with the Knights gave me insights into backwater routes and low-traffic lanes that are very helpful when you want to move things under the radar. He equipped the ship to my specs, and I was on my way to California.

The trip itself went almost perfectly. Almost. I narrowly dodged a team of heavly armed police officers half way to California by using occasionally unstable jumpholes. The trip took almost twice as long as it should. By the time I reached Cali Minor, the smuggler that hired me was insane from worrying I got caught along the way, or worse. I docked the ship, the cargo was removed and I had a small amount of capital at my disposal.

So I hitched a ride to Los Angeles. I was looking for exactly one place and two people. First stop: Santa Monica maglev central station, lockers section, locker 30598, or more specifically, its content - a suitcase full of documents, recordings, ship manifests, scan printouts and a whole array of useful material. After getting that, I could look for the people.

First was Charlotte Sterling, m.d., a plastic surgeon and head of one of the most elite clinics on L.A. When she saw me sitting in her office on that sunny thursday morning, she was all . It was simple - I needed facial plastic surgery, tattoo removal and a nano rejuvenation, all of which were to be free and done immediately. She wanted to refuse, naturally, but the amount of dirt I had on her (ranging from black market organ trade, Cardamine smuggling, elite prostitution to paramilitary genetic experimentation and the like) prevailed and she accepted without much hassle. Blackmail as always proved to be a valuable tool when you have nothing else to lose. It was a time for new me. Five days later, I came out of the clinic looking like a different person.

Second came Liberty senator William "Billy" Auxon. Oh, he was a special one. A descendant of one of the original sleeper ship captains, Henry Auxon, one of the richest and most powerful families in Sirius sector, who had stakes in Ageira, Synth Foods, BMM and a crapload of other corporations - he was as good as targets get. Not because he was rich, but because he really enjoyed partying with what could only be described as ancient Romans-style parties, with rivers of wine, mountains of drugs and entire transports full of both male and female whores... He couldn't be blackmailed though. He was far too powerful for that. Instead, I wanted a simple repay of favors - I had organized and escorted some sensitive materials for him, his parties and his companies many times, and PX's international ban was affecting him a great deal.

It was simple - I wanted my assets unfrozen so I could work again, and he was powerful and well connected enough to provide me with that. I stayed at his mansion for three days until an army of his minions got it all worked out. Favors were called in, pressures were applied, two people disappeared and one was found dead after shooting himself six times in the back. Police called it a suicide, obviously.

I got my assets back. Ships, money, stored goods, all of it. Only catch was, I was to dissapear as quickly as possible.