Logbook entry

It's been weeks since the Pilot's Federation reissued my license and after a few small (read: large) bumps in the road, I'm finally starting to feel closer to the "groove" out here again. I'd forgotten the lonely bliss is that is being among the stars and gas giants, and nebulae; the strange and haunting song of Space, as celestial objects communicate in radio frequency; the ghostly world between worlds that is Witchspace...



I can't help but think of H.P. Lovecraft, as I write this. I'll always remember how it struck me the first time I read him referring to Space as "the Gulf of Stars". Or was it Robert E. Howard? Fucked if I know...



Anyway, enough conjecture. Down to business, brass tax and all.



My handler with the Pilot's Federation has been very hand offs - that is to say, I haven't heard from her since she pointed me at that beat-up old Sidewinder. I think she was drunk or off her meds, or on the wrong meds. She told me: "Come back when you are elite and dangerous, and we'll talk about your endgame." What, in the holy fuck, is that supposed to mean? You're guess is as good as mine...



No sooner had I powered up the engines then I fell back into my old ways. I headed straight for the nav beacon, hoping to catch a pirate with their pants down. I found one, piloting an Anaconda, being harassed by a wing of security agents. I let greed get the better of me, and if it hadn't been for those brave souls of the Security Force, I wouldn't have had the opportunity to run away as fast as i did, and live to write about it.



I decided then to freelance as a courier, mostly shipping sensitive boom data from one outpost to another, now and then having to face off with mercenaries hired out by rival factions to destroy me and the information I carried. I was forced to flee from some, but I am proud to say that, for the most part, I was able to stand my ground and fight.



By the time I made it out here to the Bhutas System, a couple of weeks later, I'd made my way up to a Viper MKIV. I named her Defiance, in honour of her stubborn attitude, both in combat and when yawing. My Combat Rank had improved from Harmless to Novice, and I had more than a few successful jobs under my belt, not to mention a score or more bounties collected in between. What can I say, you gotta love what you do.



Been working with a corporation out here called the Bhutas Group, mostly running data, and the odd special mission here and there. I must be doing something right, because the last job was under contract with the Galactic Federation. Made me a recruit, they did. Though, I did have to pony up the cash for a Type-6 to get the job done, moving forty tonnes of cargo. Evidently, someone had assured them that I also freelance as a trader. It's the only reason they'd think a data courier would have that kind of haulage space. Doesn't matter. I could afford it, and, to tell the truth, have been enjoying trucking along in the "Oxen". It's relaxing, right up until the Interdiction, of course.



So, I've been trying out this trader thing, making short runs around Bhutas, trying to sort out a decent and profitable route. Have even been considering getting my hands on an Asp Scout, see if I can't find something that ain't ever been found.



But I'm already getting the itch...I can hear the Defiance whispering about hunts and bounties in my ear...



GeneralCrust,



Signing off.