Space. That's just what it is. Open. Nothing. Cold. Dark. Unforgiving in every way imaginable. I can remember a time as a child, hearing the story of some of the deep-space pilots that would eventually come stragling into our home sector.
Fabulous stories. Stories of grand adventures, and hair raising experiences that would keep you on the edge of your seat for it's entirety.
After joining the academy, I realised being a pilot was exactly what my life was missing...
Cleared for publication by: Ander
to an extent. There is always this feeling of a loss somewhere deep inside. Something mis-aligned. Not quite settled within.
But you shrug it off. As always. Time at hand demands it. Performing a
pilots duties is a daunting task that not many people are able to cope
with, let along being a pilot of the great Concord Navy. No time for
the little things that make you hesitate. You hesitate, you die.
early pilot career has taken me to a few far stretches of the region.
Nothing to grand, nor remote. Nothing a military pilot can't handle.
Hundreds of hours of training, and formatting yourself into a pillar
for such occurances. Endless lessons in right vs. wrong, patience,
tactics, politeness, thuroughness, attention for details... the lessons
never end. It's the only way to hone the pilot into a valuable resource
for the task at hand. It's what separates the good from the bad. The
living from the dead.
Yet all of those things come flooding
through in an istant when an engagement occurs. The training is in the
muscles. The body knows, the mind reacts.
So when my last mission had me running out to a pretty detached roid
belt to answer a distress call, there were no thoughts about anything
other than getting the task completed, except that feeling again...
warping in, I preform the typical by-the-book procedures to ensure the
area is free of hostiles, and any damaging debris or stellar gasses
that may damage my hull. All clear.
The distress beacon is just a small distance away. I begin my approach
as I open the comm link with the pilot in the lifeless ship. Before I
can even begin my sentence the radio spews to life with the poor
pilot's barrage of words...
"... Oh God! Thank God you've finally come! Please help me.. get me out of here.."
"Sir, please stay calm. I cannot help you if you are not calm."
"... Ok.. calm. I can do calm... what now?"
"Sir, I need you to tell me the status of your life-support systems. Are the functional?"
"... Yes yes. They are fine. Though I am running very low on energy here."
"Very well. Give me a moment to do a few scans to see what we can do about getting your ship up and running."
"...Great!... Will it take long? I've been here for hours."
"Not long at all sir. Just about complete."
"Sir, it looks like we might be able to get you up and running."
"...Great! Um, but how? I don't know how to fix a ship."
"Sir, it's not a problem. I can send a few repair units to your ship. It should only be a few moments..."
feeling again. Arises alon the back of the spine. Like a small chill
slowly crawling up my back. Into my brain. Can't quite put my finger on
it... something pulling at my sub-conscience. Demanding my attention
now more than ever before.
The radio crackles again...
Hello? Are you sending those repair bots yet? I'd really like to get
out of here. I'll make sure you get a nice bonus for this. You're a
good Navy pilot. Concord needs more of your type for sure. Not many
people would bother this far out."
"Sir.. just a moment."
I flipped on the scanner. Not
certain why. I already scanned his hold. I know what he has... but
something else registers now. And his comment rings through my head.
And that feeling. Ever present now. Can't shake it.
I can feel lighter. As though I'm floating away from the ship. The
adrenaline is coursing through my body. Demanding to be released.
"... Uh.. sir? Hello?"
"Just a moment!"... Click... my passive targeter goes online. Why did I do that?
"...Umm.. sir? You ok over ... hey, something has just locked me! I think there might be... wait a minute..."
explosion was brilliant. Comforting. Beckoning. Demanding. A flood of
emotions pour through. And that feeling settles in. Finds it's final
hold on my subconscience. It's new home. I welcome it.
I didn't know it until now. I've been harboring my tendencies for so
long. Pushing them down deeper into the abyss until they demanded I
become who I was truly meant to be.
Excitement washes over me. The emptyness is gone. The hole is filled. I feel alive. I feel... reborn.
I have become...