Lost Felons
02-12-2004, 03:52
Steeler prepared himself for the job at hand, going over the notes again to make sure that he hadn't missed anything. His life wasn't much in comparison to those of a legitimate pilots running cargo ships for the corperations. Those men often had families, a moderate life style and maybe some credits left over for their hobbies and pleasures.
Steeler, on the other hand was something of a pirate, if that term could be used in his day and age. To make his daily bread he ran jobs like the one he was about to under take, finding a poorly guarded transport ship and raiding it for everything it was worth. He rarely stopped to think about the lives he disrupted in doing this as the operation was as much of a life or death situtation for him as it was for the more legitimate pilot. The people back home would pay dearly for the goods he took, in return he could get food, narcotics and company to get high with.
As lives went, Steeler was almost on the bottom rung, wasting his days away with the cheap whores and synthahol. It hadn't always been like this, he was a young military man once, though that had all changed with Tir Tairngire, that place made a man out of you then rotted you away from the inside. It didn't matter to Steeler though, because he always tried to live in the moment, the moment when he jacked into his ship and started the run. From that moment he was an angel, almost at one with the ship as he flew through space with the sensors as his eyes and the hull as his body. The thrill of it excited many men like him to this profession, perhaps it was as old as they said it was; dating back to times when ships flew along the ocean surface and pilots used manual controls. It was almost a joke to think about it like that.
Steeler had finished making the preparations. The other men were now on board, these tattooed cyber-freeks were something like mercenaries. For a cut of the profits, agreed upon before the run took place, they would be the ships on board muscles. Their job was simple in many respects: they were the ones who entered the craft with the loot in it and take the cargo out for selling back at Tir Tairngire. Any resistance empting to stop them would be 'taken care of' by these men who were all veterans in their chosen career path, their cybernetic replacements and augmentations combined with their expertise to form effecient muscle. Steeler always made a point of hiring mercs from the people he trusted, knowing they would be honest to a degree and very proffessional.
His ship, the Novastorm was something of a heavy fighter out-fitted with a customised hyperspace drive based loosely on military craft from the empires he operated in. It's range wasn't much given the hyperspace drives size and power output, however power it used allowed it to make multiple jumps which could be extended at lose of accuracy for those desperate measures. Once it had gotten into hyperspace it would be much hard to track as it would make a short jump and change course again. The thrusters themselves were also quite nippy for a ship of it's type, combined with the dampening field made it was agile and quick. Unfortunately, this is where most of it's advantages stopped, the Novastorm wasn't designed for drawn out fire fights and could be overwhelmed easily by military grade fighter-craft. The armour of the Novastorm made it an easy kill if you could hit the thing. The counter-measures and jamming hardware on this ship allowed it to lag the targeting on weaker ships, making it harder to hit as false information would lead the weapons to target the wrong location.
Overall it was a nice set-up, it had taken it's share of beating but this operation would be routine. He had gotten word from a smuggler that some a lightly protected cargo ship would be making it's way along a certain route, with the use of hyperspace inhibitors, a highly illegal peice of hardware installed on the ship, they would be pulled out of hyperspace long enough for them to make the strike, take out it's defences and latch on for a large cash reward... the information was sound, Steeler hoped, as it was a trusted man he paid for the data.
Without anymore delay, Steeler jacked into the Novastorm, instantly feeling the bliss of complete control of all the ships systems. He could detect the mercs in the back, who were in their own hold isolated from the rest of the ship... security measures were always important to a rigger like himself. Meanwhile, Steeler could feel the open space all around him, sensing all the stars with his sensors as though they were his own.
This was the moment he lived for... Steeler activated the hyperspace, the deep blue window opened up before the Novastorm and engulfed the ship as it was sent thought hyperspace towards the first waypoint.
Steeler, on the other hand was something of a pirate, if that term could be used in his day and age. To make his daily bread he ran jobs like the one he was about to under take, finding a poorly guarded transport ship and raiding it for everything it was worth. He rarely stopped to think about the lives he disrupted in doing this as the operation was as much of a life or death situtation for him as it was for the more legitimate pilot. The people back home would pay dearly for the goods he took, in return he could get food, narcotics and company to get high with.
As lives went, Steeler was almost on the bottom rung, wasting his days away with the cheap whores and synthahol. It hadn't always been like this, he was a young military man once, though that had all changed with Tir Tairngire, that place made a man out of you then rotted you away from the inside. It didn't matter to Steeler though, because he always tried to live in the moment, the moment when he jacked into his ship and started the run. From that moment he was an angel, almost at one with the ship as he flew through space with the sensors as his eyes and the hull as his body. The thrill of it excited many men like him to this profession, perhaps it was as old as they said it was; dating back to times when ships flew along the ocean surface and pilots used manual controls. It was almost a joke to think about it like that.
Steeler had finished making the preparations. The other men were now on board, these tattooed cyber-freeks were something like mercenaries. For a cut of the profits, agreed upon before the run took place, they would be the ships on board muscles. Their job was simple in many respects: they were the ones who entered the craft with the loot in it and take the cargo out for selling back at Tir Tairngire. Any resistance empting to stop them would be 'taken care of' by these men who were all veterans in their chosen career path, their cybernetic replacements and augmentations combined with their expertise to form effecient muscle. Steeler always made a point of hiring mercs from the people he trusted, knowing they would be honest to a degree and very proffessional.
His ship, the Novastorm was something of a heavy fighter out-fitted with a customised hyperspace drive based loosely on military craft from the empires he operated in. It's range wasn't much given the hyperspace drives size and power output, however power it used allowed it to make multiple jumps which could be extended at lose of accuracy for those desperate measures. Once it had gotten into hyperspace it would be much hard to track as it would make a short jump and change course again. The thrusters themselves were also quite nippy for a ship of it's type, combined with the dampening field made it was agile and quick. Unfortunately, this is where most of it's advantages stopped, the Novastorm wasn't designed for drawn out fire fights and could be overwhelmed easily by military grade fighter-craft. The armour of the Novastorm made it an easy kill if you could hit the thing. The counter-measures and jamming hardware on this ship allowed it to lag the targeting on weaker ships, making it harder to hit as false information would lead the weapons to target the wrong location.
Overall it was a nice set-up, it had taken it's share of beating but this operation would be routine. He had gotten word from a smuggler that some a lightly protected cargo ship would be making it's way along a certain route, with the use of hyperspace inhibitors, a highly illegal peice of hardware installed on the ship, they would be pulled out of hyperspace long enough for them to make the strike, take out it's defences and latch on for a large cash reward... the information was sound, Steeler hoped, as it was a trusted man he paid for the data.
Without anymore delay, Steeler jacked into the Novastorm, instantly feeling the bliss of complete control of all the ships systems. He could detect the mercs in the back, who were in their own hold isolated from the rest of the ship... security measures were always important to a rigger like himself. Meanwhile, Steeler could feel the open space all around him, sensing all the stars with his sensors as though they were his own.
This was the moment he lived for... Steeler activated the hyperspace, the deep blue window opened up before the Novastorm and engulfed the ship as it was sent thought hyperspace towards the first waypoint.