+++ Jonathan Jones +++

Cryesa System

Independent Space

Lucynthia Station

August 4, 327th Cycle

This guy was really drunk.

"I'm telling you, son. That thing was violating physics! Those megalomaniacs in the FEG or Stable Dynamics probably created it. Or something. And they're hiding it."

Alright, geez, sir. Calm down on the booze perhaps? But I suppose my ass could be a tad bit more empathetic here. He was holding a bag of, well, I would just assume a bag of dog tags after all.

I took my sip. We, humans, always loved to wallow in collective misery after all. And chronic alcoholism to talk business. Of course, I wasn't passing on that while listening to this guy rant about his last unfortunate encounter.

Plus, this glass of alcohol seemed good. Definitely would visit again if given a chance. Unfortunately, I had heard of some sketchy stuff around here. I mean…yeah, just a look into the corner, and there it was. Another scuffle between an FEG patron and Station security. Just another messy sight of today's business, I suppose.

And he was shouting "Die you rebel pigs!" while being beaten. Pro-junta boys, I swear. At least read the room for your self-preservation. You're in an Independent station shouting pro-FEG rhetoric. I sighed and looked back at this guy. Even I wouldn't be that suicidal.

"So you guys went in to check?" I asked, putting down the glass. "Didn't the Union sign a treaty two years ago? With the FEG?"

"We weren't there to check for it specifically. We were there to recover something for the Institute."

Now that truly seemed interesting. Must be quite a high-tech target. Well, if it was any indication, whatever these guys faced must have been quite high-tech. Now, I had no patriotic leanings left with the Union, not after I "left" Loran, but, I doubted many things could bash the heavens out of a Union flotilla like that.

"Then why'd it attack you?"

He looked around the bar, eyes bloodshot, looking around if someone was listening. Of course, in his alcoholic numbness, perhaps his brain didn't quite catch the drift that eyes and ears were everywhere, so he spilled.

"We detected it. We checked. Seemed way too different than normal. Our Flag Officer said engage. We fired first."

Yep, this guy wasn't getting his job back. That was all I could tell. Not that it mattered, he seemed too mentally unstable to command a spacefaring vessel anyway. And the Union did not offer PTSD treatments for their vets.

Poor guy.

"Then it screwed you all?"

"It was disappearing in the void, and appearing at will. It wasn't traveling, it was teleporting. And it…its shields…"

"You couldn't overwhelm it?"

"It moved to confuse us. It isolated us one by one. And when it had its guns locked on one of us…" His eyes went wide. "Boom."

Very vivid, sir. I appreciate the sharing of your horrors.

"Well, what weapons was it using?"

"It fired some kinetics to screw our shields…but it was mostly energy bolts and beams. I haven't seen one of those."

"You mean, like actual plasma stuff? Like, Federation era?"

He shook his head.

"I don't know. Never seen it before. Don't wanna see it again."

"Wanna go back to the Union Navy?"

"Fuck it, man." He almost seemed like he wanted to tear the bigwigs in Trianta apart. "I'm done with this shit. I'm retiring. None of the shit we do matters. None of it. All of it is a lie!"

Well, you're getting discharged anyway for saying those stuff to me. I took a sip from my glass. And reprimanded. Assuming someone noticed.

But, to be fair, most of the officers and crewmen from the League in this room were drinking their sorrows and grievances out. Well, this was an Independent colony anyway. And these folks docked here as an emergency measure.

Perhaps this guy did have a chance. That no one was watching. But I doubted that. The Union? Their tentacles should be everywhere in Independent worlds.

No way.

"Well, condolences for your losses," I said back. Look, I did feel bad for him, but this was the Sector. Shit sucks. "Wish you good luck after…you know..."

"Yeah, yeah. No need to tell me empty platitudes like 'shit will be better'." He chugged his whole glass now. "Don't mess with that shit, son. I ain't joking."

Well, I certainly wouldn't be firing the first shots on it.

"If it talked to you and gave you mercy-"

"It didn't talk to me. She went inside my head. I only got lucky."

"A she?"

He shook his head.

"I…I don't fucking know anymore. Whatever it was, I don't…"

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry. Was just curious."

I paused, and I almost thought our little chit-chat was over when he sighed.

"Don't go poking around the other folks, son. They might be…less inclined."

"Advice noted."

Now that it was clear that my presence was unwanted, I respectfully took my leave, picking up my hat and placing it on my head as I stood. It seemed like business was off the table today.

Whatever it is, it seems quite interesting. I told myself as I left the bar. Something told me from inside that I had to go there to find it. That I had to find it. That whatever it was—it would be something special. Something…that may turn my life—or the fate of this decaying sector itself.

Don't let the train of opportunity pass. I remembered my father's words. Or you'd rot in this world.

It was the most important lesson I learned.

But I shook my head. Why…why would I chase that…for no reason? How ridiculous. But…did I even have anything left to chase in life?

+++

"That will be eight thousand SCs!" The automated voice said with too much enthusiasm for a robotic voice. "Thank you for choosing Lucynthia Spaceworks!"

I sighed. My finite funds were dwindling. But I suppose it would be the only way for this expedition to work. Gotta pay if you wanna win. I told myself, as I hyper-fixated on the "tax deduction" part of the bill. Gotta pay if you wanna win.

I mean, if I didn't, my ship at this point would be slag if I ever found myself in another engagement (screw that). I walked toward the docks, straight to my ship—a Reaper-Class Corvette. Don't let the corvette part sell illusions, this shite was undermanned because there was only me.

Normally, there should at least be two crew members on this ship for a skeleton crew, and fifteen to fully man it. Unfortunately, that wasn't something I could easily find, not after my escape three months ago from Loran.

At least the weapons systems are automated now. I thought to myself as I entered the CIC of the ship. And most stuff.

That was the upgrade I paid for, after all. Unfortunately, Lucynthia didn't have people signing up for me, even when I needed people. I guess my shady looks didn't help. At the very least, being an independent world, they didn't ask how I was flying a Union Corvette alone (I stole it).

I sighed as I looked down at the screens present in front of me. All systems green, it said. It seemed that the new automated system was working as intended. I clicked on a notification panel, and enabled "automatic maintenance drones". At least now I wouldn't scrub shit.

What the fuck am I doing with my life. I asked myself. Where am I supposed to go? What even is the point?

I was now a true outlaw. A fugitive. I just stole thousands of Sector Credits and this ship just to escape that…hellhole. Stop, and they would find me. Not even my newly forged identity would pass interrogation if luck wouldn’t be on my side.

Well…who am I kidding? I've always been a dirty smuggler. And worse than that…

Quite frankly, when the Union ships arrived yesterday, I already almost pissed my pants. Luckily, they were on a borderline mutiny. How long could I stay lucky?

The only glimpse of sanity I found comfort in was that lie that I would tell myself. It will be alright. I'm too small, why would they care? Why would they hunt me? I'm just an ant to them. Who cares about ants? Nothing but endless nonsense. Even if the Union decided to forgo chasing me for my sins…there were still them…

I almost wanted to slam my head, but…I held it off with a sigh. Ultimately, I did this all to myself.

"Heh…maybe being a pirate doesn't sound too bad, it would be a natural progression for me." I joked to myself before I slapped myself back to my senses. Stealing…bad. Big words coming from someone who stole his way to space. Truly, I could count as the "greatest", definitely unhypocritical philosopher of the age.

I breathed out.

"Control…requesting permission to undock."

I waited for their response. Subtly, I also requested approved navigation routes. Not that it mattered, Lucynthia Station wasn't that busy today anyway. Still…I liked the feeling of abiding by civilized law for once.

Running away all the time sucked. I really did wonder at times where I should go. Independent space was good, but…

Perhaps FEG territory? But then, they would probably just draft me to the Navy. What could some lone nobody even do to say no? DSA space? Yeah, as if the communists would be any better. Get hired by Stable Dynamics? No thanks, I wouldn't be a wage slave.

Will the Union realize that I was here? Were they even chasing me? They certainly weren't when I got out of Loran. Perhaps I was just too paranoid. It wasn't like my homeworld contained a great deal of political sway in the League.

And again, I just smuggled stuff to make ends meet. Why would they…

Cope…nothing but cope. It's in the law, stupid. I'm gonna get charged. And you killed people, Jonathan. And…worse than that. You're a dirty man.

And how dare I downplay what I did?

"ISS-2275A5, permission granted," the comms blared. It was my forged transponder ID. The ISS stood for "Independent Space Ship", as…I was posing as an "Independent" civilian. It made things easier. It was also easy to be one, you just had to do some business with everyone.

All I really did after my escape was to smuggle strange "chemicals" from Point A to Point B and pay some shady dude to make me an ID. I guess it worked. The sector was too lawless anyway. I guess at this point I would just fully bank in that chaos and lawlessness to stay hidden.

Can't get caught by the law if they can't enforce it.

Still didn't help though. I was aimless. So much so that all I could really think of as a possible thing to chase was that thing from my father's old tirades. And I’d be brief, it was a stupid one. Still do, it sounded oddly similar to what that Union officer seemed to have fought against. Perhaps there was something useful about that intel…

“We didn’t really interact with it much,” I remembered my father's ramblings. “But it's somewhere out there. And that AI core will change the Sector.”

The "Voidqueen". I knew my father was once a bigshot “researcher” in the Institute, and was a renowned explorer of the Outer Sector, but that was what he always spoke about.

That AI Core.

An AI core that was apparently so powerful, that it could bend reality to its will. It was silly, oh so silly. Even back when the giant that was the Federation existed, AI was nowhere near such magical proportions.

Only he rambled of it. As if it was some conspiracy theory, a hidden thing by all governments. No, he even went so far as to tell me that the current governments of the Sector had no idea of it.

Whatever…he was probably just senile. Still, it gnawed at me as I navigated my ship off the docks. The Voidqueen? What a joke…must be some stupid fantasy of his. And even if it was true…why would someone as noble as that care for some dirty criminal like me?

I focused on my ship. They gave me the navigation routes, and I gave my NAV system an automation order. Where was I to go? I didn't know at the moment.

I looked back at the conversation with that drunken League officer back in the bar. A strange ship that phases in and out of reality? So powerful that it could fight multiple ships at once? Something that commanded multiple drone ships?

Hah... Dad, you're getting on my head again. I asked myself why he talked too much about it. Now it was almost eating me. Why was I even thinking about some childhood stories from him? Damn, I guess talking to that Union officer did a number on me.

I looked down at the navigation screens. Sector Map. And my eyes locked on that system. Six light-years. Why was I even looking at it? That thing almost killed them all.

Why?

But at this rate, where else would I go?

"NAV set course to Remen System…" I looked back down again on that same system. This was stupid, I told myself. Utterly stupid. But maybe…maybe there was some good stuff in there. Maybe I could finally get some cash to fix myself a proper ship and a proper crew. Many minutes of internal conflict passed until I came up with a stupid conclusion.

Alright, I'm done, we're going.

"Ignore the previous directive. NAV set course to Lubola System." The ship began turning, and I could see the navigation thrusters charge for a sustained burn. I made one last check. I had enough AM (Anti-Matter) fuel for the trip in hyperspace. Supplies seemed quite alright too—though, I should definitely avoid high Anti-Matter concentration zones so my shields consume less power and energy (and reduce fuel usage).

All in all…all green. I just needed the balls.

"...Execute orders."

+++

Federation Tracking System Activated—Prerequisites Met.

Booting up Orion Identity Interface…Class Identified: Spacefarer [Space Combat Abilities Path Set].

Name: [REDACTED]—{Error -> Restarting}—Jonathan Jones.

Homeworld: Loran (Sagittarius Union).

Affiliation: Independent.

Level: 1.

Experience: 300 (+0 Last Chapter).

Skills: None.

Credits: 22,000 Sector Credits (-8000 last Chapter—installment of semi-autonomous subsystems).

Reputation to all factions:

Federal Emergency Government (FEG): Neutral.

- "FEG patrols consider you as a Federation Citizen, and stop searches are generally minimal. You are relatively unknown to FEG officers, and thus while you will be tolerated, suspicious maneuvers will lead to interrogations."

Sagittarius Union: Uncooperative.

- "The Union considers you as a potentially dangerous element. Union patrols will conduct routine stop-searches for suspicious contraband. Resistance to routine stop searches may lead to an arrest order—resist further, and a Union Captain will graciously liberate you from the physical realm."

Democratic States of Avantia (DSA): Uncooperative.

- "Auto-Credit Systems track you as a 'potentially problematic dissident'. DSA REVSEC agents watch your steps once you dock in DSA stations, ready to ‘deal’ with you at the slightest wrong twitch. Act wrong in DSA space, and expect a hail of missiles headed your way."

Stable Dynamics: Neutral.

- "You are relatively unknown to Stable Dynamics' Customer Profiles. A potential business partner or destabilizing element, Stable Dynamics is prepared to deal with both possibilities. Still, remember to buy SD—it's the best in the Sector!"

Independents: Cordial.

- "Independent officials deal business with you without hurdles. Patrols will generally stay out of your way, provided you act without suspicion."

The Communards: Hostile.

- "Revolutionary Commissars scoff at you as another fat spacefarer pig indulging in decadence to the detriment of the masses. The only acceptable way to deal with you is an immediate hail of coilgun slugs or an appropriate IED-laced fuel tanker stocked with AM fuel headed your way."

Pirates: Hostile.

- "If you dare bring something valuable with you, expect an immediate attack should you fail to hand over your cargo, and you and your crew hostage."

Active Missions:

"A Faint Memory"

- Find [REDACTED] in the Lubola System…

Rewards: Unknown.