The Initiate: A Star Citizen Short Story
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Flames licked the long hull of the Caterpillar transport as it entered the Terran atmosphere. Her shields flashed to life preventing the heat and friction from adding more scars on top of the old ship’s overlapping patchwork of metal plates. Stabilizers shuddered under the stress and girders groaned, but the albatross lurched along regardless. Hearty and old, she would survive.
Comm relays pinged the freighter, directing the pilot to one the many offsite landing pads that dotted the industrial area around the Terran Trans-corporate New DeGaul Spaceport. Landing facilities within the actual spaceport were way too expensive for a budget hauler to afford, but the sprawl of cut rate pads surround the shiny new facility were just as good.
Maneuvering jets burned hard as the ship touched down on the pad. Alternating bursts of the port and starboard jets pushed the long, bulky craft one way or the other as it inched into alignment on the land platform. Rapid pulses of thrusters fired until they all seemed to give up at once and the ship came down with a loud ‘thunk’ directly into the slot provided. What it lacked in grace the Caterpillar made up for in raw efficiency.
“Thasa yit! Yooze scrums off me ship!”. A voice blared from inside the craft as the front loading door opened.
Out stepped a rag tag assortment of passengers and crewmen for hire. The landing facility was full of them: men and women who worked flight-to-flight, job-to-job, negotiating rates for crewing ships or working as cargo stevedores. Some eventually ended up with steady crewing jobs, but most simply got enough to get by and keeping flying. Hope drove each man to find something a bit better, but each one looked like someone who had seen better days. Those that couldn’t go on simply didn’t make it to the next port.
Most of the group made a bee-line through the half-melted snow slush to the work-for-hire boards, looking to get a bead on which ships were hiring and where they were going. Awnings with open air heaters and large job displays dotted the sides of the industrial landing yard. The voices of off-contract captains could be heard yelling out the jobs that they didn’t want to pay the job registration fees for.
One young, lanky-haired, pale fellow instead hooked a right towards a gang-way that lead to the DeGaul Spaceport proper. Shuffling along the ice and trying not to slip, the man shrugged into a thick leather coat and used the motion to make a quick check over his shoulder. No one seemed to be looking his way, so he quickened his step to get him onto the moving platform.
Keep it cool Parker
The conveyer carried him swiftly through the cold air between the buildings, high above the surface streets below. Slowly, the old and grey metal industrial building gave way to the pristine white curves of the more modern trade complex. Despite their artistic qualities and inspiring architecture, Parker didn’t really give them a second look. His mind raced and his stomach churned in anticipation of the job to come. Blasts of heated air hit him as the walkway pulled him into the building and the light accumulation of snow melted on his jacket and pants making them slightly damp.
Ugh. Wet clothes. Just what I need.
Parker thumbed his MobiGlass to let his contact know he was in the building. He was answered back almost immediately with a location tag that was further into the complex and several floors up. Navigating the distance wasn’t an issue, but the young pirate noticed he wasn’t really dressed to blend in here. As the walkway continued further in, more and more business traffic joined him on the walkway. Each of them in trim suits with synth-sculpted bodies and wreathed in the holo-lights of their wrist-comms and heads-ups. Most had designer OptiGlass tablets clutched in the manicured hands or peaking from their stylish satchels.
Parker unconsciously smoothed his hair and straightened his stained leather jacket. As soon as he came to his intersection, his feet flew off the conveyer as if of their own accord, eager to be out of the press. With effort, he willed himself to a slower pace.
Why do I get myself talked into this scrum? Joining the Gun Dogs isn’t worth this much pain … Ugh, who am I kidding? If I don’t pull off this mission, it’s back to freight crewing.
Before he knew it, Parker stood in a large, glass-ceilinged atrium, covered in exotic plants from a hundred worlds. Most of the traffic had diverged into shops and side hallways and he was mostly alone.
“Hey”, said a woman seated on a bench off to his left.
Startled, Parker spun and saw a green-haired, middle-aged woman in a stylish business dress and a designer MobiGlass bracelet.
“Well, you’re underdressed”, she said with a sour expression. “No matter, give me your MobiGlass”.
“Your uh .. umm”, Parker stammered
“Yeah, Yeah, Gun Dogs, yada yada. Just give it to me.”, she said looking around to make sure no one was close.
Parker breathed a sigh of relief and did as he was told. The woman bumped the comm devices together to transfer a file without sending it over the Spectrum. She then gave her Glass a quick nod and handed his back. “Your instructions and your transportation details are all on there. Here’s your package.”, she said as she handed over a small suit case.
Parker grabbed the case with one hand while thumbing through the text in the other. The woman quickly started to walk away as he grabbed her arm. “It says I have to steal a ship!”, he whisper-shouted at her.
The woman shoved him back and straightened her sleeve. “There is fresh infiltration software, clean IDs, and even a port manifest on there. It should be trivial…. even for the likes of you. Now, I really must be going.” With that, the woman turned on her heels walked briskly away from the atrium.
The young pirate stood there for a moment as the enormity of the situation sunk in. This was supposed to be an easy job; A simple initiation task to join the Gun Dog pack. Just a delivery. Nobody told him it was going to be a major theft.
Parker sat down on a nearby bench and began to read the rest of the job instructions. Apparently, the package was highly scan-reactive. He couldn’t take it on a transport or really anything that would get scanned. He definitely couldn’t get off world the same way he got on it.
Drifted shaz, how do I get back to Bullet Bay without getting scanned?
Maybe a smuggler ship? Nothing obvious in the manifest. Maybe something fast? Advocacy agents use Orgin M50s, there was nothing in the docks that beat that.
I need to get on something that won’t get scanned to begin with.
Maybe stealth ... YES! There was a brand new Anvil F7C-S “Ghost” Hornet in one of the Anvil dealer bays. It was outfitted for low-energy output and scan-defeating plating. This one even had a hefty weapon load-out and a jump drive.
Perfect!
Parker grabbed the case and started to make his way back through the complex. Once it was in sight, he casually made a pass of the Anvil showroom. The actual landing bays where the on-site stock was stored was in a hallway beside the showroom, protected by several scanners and a plaz-steel door.
Let’s try out this software.
The MobiGlas infiltration package ended up being pretty easy to initiate. Parker located the dealerships Spectrum ID and added himself to their employee database. Summoning as much confidence as possible under the circumstances, he strolled up to the door, scanned his MobiGlas, and walked into the blessed empty hallway.
With every muscle tense and his heart racing, Parker quickly made his way through the maze or corridors. Salesmen and clients could be heard in some of the bays, but quick feet and a little patience in side hallways kept him from meeting any of them. After what seemed an eternity, Parker found the right bay, hacked the lock, and ducked inside.
The Hornet Ghost was a black beauty. A sleek fighting machine that looked both deadly and efficient. Parker smiled and then quickly went to work on his MobiGlass. The software took a lot longer to subvert the Ghost’s security mechanisms, switch the tags, and give him piloting rights than it had taken him to get through the doors. He used the time to slip into a flight suit that was hanging on the wall and grab one of the Hornet’s tactical helmets.
Alright, let’s kick these tires and drift out of here
“Who the frack are you?!”, came a voice from behind him.
Scrumming shaz!, Parker thought as he rammed the bay entry door with his body without even looking to find out was talking. The salesman that had been standing in the doorway was thrown backward into his clients as the door slammed shut. With a quick jab at his MobiGlass, the door locked and the controls were disabled.
Like a Scythe in a firefight, Parker zoomed across the bay and jumped into the Ghost’s pilot seat. He had no time to store the suitcase properly so it got awkwardly shoved into the back of the canopy instead.
With a quick couple of switch flips, the ship sprang to life, the canopy closed, and the hangar doors began to open. Shouts from out in the hallway could be heard even over the engine roar.
Parker had only been in a Hornet once before and this one was much newer. Finding the new control positions took a while and by the time he got the lift-off started, the entry door been blown open by DeGaul security forces. Security forces that promptly started lighting up his shields with small arms fire.
HA! Drift you scrums!
A hard burn of the maneuvering jets launched the craft out of the bay with screaming speed. Parker angled the ship and throttled up, shooting through the atmosphere. The comms blared with warnings and clearance failure alerts. Red, flashing indicators told him that company wasn’t too far behind.
A quick look over the scanners gave the young pirate an idea. With a quick burst, the ship shifted directions and entered orbit next to a swarm of satellites. Parker cut the engines and engaged the Low-E measures, making the ship relatively invisible to sensors.
Advocacy cruisers, Origin M50s and Aegis Avengers, blasted passed his position searching along his previous vector. After waiting a short bit for their signatures to fade, he gave the Ghost a series of short, controlled bursts to take it out of the Terran orbit and into the open system. With each pull of the throttle he forced himself to keep an eye on this emissions and his profile. Of course, it was all guess work.
I haven’t even read the owner’s manual, Parker thought as he stared at the stealth controls, shaking his head.
The pirate made due with limited thrust for about 20 minutes before lighting up his cruising engine. He knew the less energy signature he put out, the less likely the authorities would spot him, but it was all a gamble. The Ghost’s sensors stayed clear as the she built up speed and eventually a cool relief washed over him.
After half an hour of cruising, the ship came into sensor range of the jump point. Unfortunately, the scan showed half a dozen ships of varying size in the area. Parker immediately cut the engine, again engaging all of the Low-E measures and putting the ship into a slow drift.
Three Advocacy cruisers were actively scanning some Hull C cargo ships currently in line to go through the point, keeping a close watch on each ship. Slipping through the point without them noticing and opening fire would be impossible.
Think…. Think! What can we do?
Parker began flipping through the Ghost’s equipment load-out: some low emission energy weapons, a full set of IR-missiles, a jump drive, storage container, sensor package. Nothing special and not enough to take out the cruisers outright.
Sensors sounded again with another contact: A Starfarer tanker. Advocacy pings immediately lit up the area with deep scans. The Ghost’s sensor package took advantage of the extra energy to also get a closer look at the newcomer. The Starfarer’s large liquid storage tanks looked to be loaded down with something volatile; likely industrial solvents or missile fuel.
Sorry guys, but you’re my ticket of here.
Parker waited until the tanker approached the jump point and was right next to the cruisers before releasing the full complement of the Ghost’s missiles. Unable to get a lock without giving away his position, he fired all of them in dumb fire mode, which shot them straight forward with no tracking. With the tanker being a relatively slow mover, only two of the six missiles missed. The four that connected detonated the Starfarer’s fuel and instantly obliterated the ship.
One of the Advocacy cruisers simply disappeared, consumed the blast and atomized by the extreme heat. The other two ships were blown back, severally damaged and stunned by the explosion. Parker didn’t wait to see if they would recover. He immediately engaged the jump engine and drove through the rift.
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The Bullet Bay asteroid base never looked so good. After two days of jumps and lying low Parker was more than ready to peel himself out of the Ghost’s pilot seat. He signaled the Gun Dog ‘Friend or Foe’ codes and was green lit to a small bay whose doors were already in the process of opening.
A quick flip and some lateral thrust put the fighter into a position that allowed the Bay’s artificial gravity to take hold. The slow pull and a couple puffs allowed him to put the ship down like a feather into a small rocky cavern carved from the asteroid’s surface. As soon as the ship cleared the opening, the landing bay doors started closing and then pressuring the cavern. Tortured metal sounds of the door’s old equipment echoed through the landing bay’s thin atmosphere.
As Parker slowly climbed down the Ghosts ladder, stretching his sore muscles along the way, the airlock doors embedded the landing bay’s rock wall began to cycle. A tall, bald, black man strode confidently into the small bay.
“Sammy, how goes it!”, Parker exclaimed, raising his fist for a bump.
“Did you get the package?”, Sammy said; face stern and intractable.
“Yeah, yeah” stammered Parker as he scrambled back up the ladder to grab the small briefcase in the cabin.
Sammy’s grin split his face in two. “Thaza my boyo!”
Sammy grabbed the case from the younger pirate’s hands before he was even half way down the ladder again. With a swift motion, he undid the case’s latch, scooped a large brown bottle out of the foam inside, and tossed the case itself away.
“Signature Southern Terran whiskey. A great single malt. This stuff is scrumming expensive, but it is delicious.”
Sammy began walking back to airlock and Parker’s jaw dropped. What the SHAZ?
“By the way”, Sammy called over his shoulder, “Welcome to the Gun Dogs. Keep the ship. You’re gonna need it.”
Comm relays pinged the freighter, directing the pilot to one the many offsite landing pads that dotted the industrial area around the Terran Trans-corporate New DeGaul Spaceport. Landing facilities within the actual spaceport were way too expensive for a budget hauler to afford, but the sprawl of cut rate pads surround the shiny new facility were just as good.
Maneuvering jets burned hard as the ship touched down on the pad. Alternating bursts of the port and starboard jets pushed the long, bulky craft one way or the other as it inched into alignment on the land platform. Rapid pulses of thrusters fired until they all seemed to give up at once and the ship came down with a loud ‘thunk’ directly into the slot provided. What it lacked in grace the Caterpillar made up for in raw efficiency.
“Thasa yit! Yooze scrums off me ship!”. A voice blared from inside the craft as the front loading door opened.
Out stepped a rag tag assortment of passengers and crewmen for hire. The landing facility was full of them: men and women who worked flight-to-flight, job-to-job, negotiating rates for crewing ships or working as cargo stevedores. Some eventually ended up with steady crewing jobs, but most simply got enough to get by and keeping flying. Hope drove each man to find something a bit better, but each one looked like someone who had seen better days. Those that couldn’t go on simply didn’t make it to the next port.
Most of the group made a bee-line through the half-melted snow slush to the work-for-hire boards, looking to get a bead on which ships were hiring and where they were going. Awnings with open air heaters and large job displays dotted the sides of the industrial landing yard. The voices of off-contract captains could be heard yelling out the jobs that they didn’t want to pay the job registration fees for.
One young, lanky-haired, pale fellow instead hooked a right towards a gang-way that lead to the DeGaul Spaceport proper. Shuffling along the ice and trying not to slip, the man shrugged into a thick leather coat and used the motion to make a quick check over his shoulder. No one seemed to be looking his way, so he quickened his step to get him onto the moving platform.
Keep it cool Parker
The conveyer carried him swiftly through the cold air between the buildings, high above the surface streets below. Slowly, the old and grey metal industrial building gave way to the pristine white curves of the more modern trade complex. Despite their artistic qualities and inspiring architecture, Parker didn’t really give them a second look. His mind raced and his stomach churned in anticipation of the job to come. Blasts of heated air hit him as the walkway pulled him into the building and the light accumulation of snow melted on his jacket and pants making them slightly damp.
Ugh. Wet clothes. Just what I need.
Parker thumbed his MobiGlass to let his contact know he was in the building. He was answered back almost immediately with a location tag that was further into the complex and several floors up. Navigating the distance wasn’t an issue, but the young pirate noticed he wasn’t really dressed to blend in here. As the walkway continued further in, more and more business traffic joined him on the walkway. Each of them in trim suits with synth-sculpted bodies and wreathed in the holo-lights of their wrist-comms and heads-ups. Most had designer OptiGlass tablets clutched in the manicured hands or peaking from their stylish satchels.
Parker unconsciously smoothed his hair and straightened his stained leather jacket. As soon as he came to his intersection, his feet flew off the conveyer as if of their own accord, eager to be out of the press. With effort, he willed himself to a slower pace.
Why do I get myself talked into this scrum? Joining the Gun Dogs isn’t worth this much pain … Ugh, who am I kidding? If I don’t pull off this mission, it’s back to freight crewing.
Before he knew it, Parker stood in a large, glass-ceilinged atrium, covered in exotic plants from a hundred worlds. Most of the traffic had diverged into shops and side hallways and he was mostly alone.
“Hey”, said a woman seated on a bench off to his left.
Startled, Parker spun and saw a green-haired, middle-aged woman in a stylish business dress and a designer MobiGlass bracelet.
“Well, you’re underdressed”, she said with a sour expression. “No matter, give me your MobiGlass”.
“Your uh .. umm”, Parker stammered
“Yeah, Yeah, Gun Dogs, yada yada. Just give it to me.”, she said looking around to make sure no one was close.
Parker breathed a sigh of relief and did as he was told. The woman bumped the comm devices together to transfer a file without sending it over the Spectrum. She then gave her Glass a quick nod and handed his back. “Your instructions and your transportation details are all on there. Here’s your package.”, she said as she handed over a small suit case.
Parker grabbed the case with one hand while thumbing through the text in the other. The woman quickly started to walk away as he grabbed her arm. “It says I have to steal a ship!”, he whisper-shouted at her.
The woman shoved him back and straightened her sleeve. “There is fresh infiltration software, clean IDs, and even a port manifest on there. It should be trivial…. even for the likes of you. Now, I really must be going.” With that, the woman turned on her heels walked briskly away from the atrium.
The young pirate stood there for a moment as the enormity of the situation sunk in. This was supposed to be an easy job; A simple initiation task to join the Gun Dog pack. Just a delivery. Nobody told him it was going to be a major theft.
Parker sat down on a nearby bench and began to read the rest of the job instructions. Apparently, the package was highly scan-reactive. He couldn’t take it on a transport or really anything that would get scanned. He definitely couldn’t get off world the same way he got on it.
Drifted shaz, how do I get back to Bullet Bay without getting scanned?
Maybe a smuggler ship? Nothing obvious in the manifest. Maybe something fast? Advocacy agents use Orgin M50s, there was nothing in the docks that beat that.
I need to get on something that won’t get scanned to begin with.
Maybe stealth ... YES! There was a brand new Anvil F7C-S “Ghost” Hornet in one of the Anvil dealer bays. It was outfitted for low-energy output and scan-defeating plating. This one even had a hefty weapon load-out and a jump drive.
Perfect!
Parker grabbed the case and started to make his way back through the complex. Once it was in sight, he casually made a pass of the Anvil showroom. The actual landing bays where the on-site stock was stored was in a hallway beside the showroom, protected by several scanners and a plaz-steel door.
Let’s try out this software.
The MobiGlas infiltration package ended up being pretty easy to initiate. Parker located the dealerships Spectrum ID and added himself to their employee database. Summoning as much confidence as possible under the circumstances, he strolled up to the door, scanned his MobiGlas, and walked into the blessed empty hallway.
With every muscle tense and his heart racing, Parker quickly made his way through the maze or corridors. Salesmen and clients could be heard in some of the bays, but quick feet and a little patience in side hallways kept him from meeting any of them. After what seemed an eternity, Parker found the right bay, hacked the lock, and ducked inside.
The Hornet Ghost was a black beauty. A sleek fighting machine that looked both deadly and efficient. Parker smiled and then quickly went to work on his MobiGlass. The software took a lot longer to subvert the Ghost’s security mechanisms, switch the tags, and give him piloting rights than it had taken him to get through the doors. He used the time to slip into a flight suit that was hanging on the wall and grab one of the Hornet’s tactical helmets.
Alright, let’s kick these tires and drift out of here
“Who the frack are you?!”, came a voice from behind him.
Scrumming shaz!, Parker thought as he rammed the bay entry door with his body without even looking to find out was talking. The salesman that had been standing in the doorway was thrown backward into his clients as the door slammed shut. With a quick jab at his MobiGlass, the door locked and the controls were disabled.
Like a Scythe in a firefight, Parker zoomed across the bay and jumped into the Ghost’s pilot seat. He had no time to store the suitcase properly so it got awkwardly shoved into the back of the canopy instead.
With a quick couple of switch flips, the ship sprang to life, the canopy closed, and the hangar doors began to open. Shouts from out in the hallway could be heard even over the engine roar.
Parker had only been in a Hornet once before and this one was much newer. Finding the new control positions took a while and by the time he got the lift-off started, the entry door been blown open by DeGaul security forces. Security forces that promptly started lighting up his shields with small arms fire.
HA! Drift you scrums!
A hard burn of the maneuvering jets launched the craft out of the bay with screaming speed. Parker angled the ship and throttled up, shooting through the atmosphere. The comms blared with warnings and clearance failure alerts. Red, flashing indicators told him that company wasn’t too far behind.
A quick look over the scanners gave the young pirate an idea. With a quick burst, the ship shifted directions and entered orbit next to a swarm of satellites. Parker cut the engines and engaged the Low-E measures, making the ship relatively invisible to sensors.
Advocacy cruisers, Origin M50s and Aegis Avengers, blasted passed his position searching along his previous vector. After waiting a short bit for their signatures to fade, he gave the Ghost a series of short, controlled bursts to take it out of the Terran orbit and into the open system. With each pull of the throttle he forced himself to keep an eye on this emissions and his profile. Of course, it was all guess work.
I haven’t even read the owner’s manual, Parker thought as he stared at the stealth controls, shaking his head.
The pirate made due with limited thrust for about 20 minutes before lighting up his cruising engine. He knew the less energy signature he put out, the less likely the authorities would spot him, but it was all a gamble. The Ghost’s sensors stayed clear as the she built up speed and eventually a cool relief washed over him.
After half an hour of cruising, the ship came into sensor range of the jump point. Unfortunately, the scan showed half a dozen ships of varying size in the area. Parker immediately cut the engine, again engaging all of the Low-E measures and putting the ship into a slow drift.
Three Advocacy cruisers were actively scanning some Hull C cargo ships currently in line to go through the point, keeping a close watch on each ship. Slipping through the point without them noticing and opening fire would be impossible.
Think…. Think! What can we do?
Parker began flipping through the Ghost’s equipment load-out: some low emission energy weapons, a full set of IR-missiles, a jump drive, storage container, sensor package. Nothing special and not enough to take out the cruisers outright.
Sensors sounded again with another contact: A Starfarer tanker. Advocacy pings immediately lit up the area with deep scans. The Ghost’s sensor package took advantage of the extra energy to also get a closer look at the newcomer. The Starfarer’s large liquid storage tanks looked to be loaded down with something volatile; likely industrial solvents or missile fuel.
Sorry guys, but you’re my ticket of here.
Parker waited until the tanker approached the jump point and was right next to the cruisers before releasing the full complement of the Ghost’s missiles. Unable to get a lock without giving away his position, he fired all of them in dumb fire mode, which shot them straight forward with no tracking. With the tanker being a relatively slow mover, only two of the six missiles missed. The four that connected detonated the Starfarer’s fuel and instantly obliterated the ship.
One of the Advocacy cruisers simply disappeared, consumed the blast and atomized by the extreme heat. The other two ships were blown back, severally damaged and stunned by the explosion. Parker didn’t wait to see if they would recover. He immediately engaged the jump engine and drove through the rift.
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The Bullet Bay asteroid base never looked so good. After two days of jumps and lying low Parker was more than ready to peel himself out of the Ghost’s pilot seat. He signaled the Gun Dog ‘Friend or Foe’ codes and was green lit to a small bay whose doors were already in the process of opening.
A quick flip and some lateral thrust put the fighter into a position that allowed the Bay’s artificial gravity to take hold. The slow pull and a couple puffs allowed him to put the ship down like a feather into a small rocky cavern carved from the asteroid’s surface. As soon as the ship cleared the opening, the landing bay doors started closing and then pressuring the cavern. Tortured metal sounds of the door’s old equipment echoed through the landing bay’s thin atmosphere.
As Parker slowly climbed down the Ghosts ladder, stretching his sore muscles along the way, the airlock doors embedded the landing bay’s rock wall began to cycle. A tall, bald, black man strode confidently into the small bay.
“Sammy, how goes it!”, Parker exclaimed, raising his fist for a bump.
“Did you get the package?”, Sammy said; face stern and intractable.
“Yeah, yeah” stammered Parker as he scrambled back up the ladder to grab the small briefcase in the cabin.
Sammy’s grin split his face in two. “Thaza my boyo!”
Sammy grabbed the case from the younger pirate’s hands before he was even half way down the ladder again. With a swift motion, he undid the case’s latch, scooped a large brown bottle out of the foam inside, and tossed the case itself away.
“Signature Southern Terran whiskey. A great single malt. This stuff is scrumming expensive, but it is delicious.”
Sammy began walking back to airlock and Parker’s jaw dropped. What the SHAZ?
“By the way”, Sammy called over his shoulder, “Welcome to the Gun Dogs. Keep the ship. You’re gonna need it.”
