Forums » Sci-Fi Roleplay » A lost fighter (closed)

Tyron looked out the window of the command deck as he sipped his glass of whiskey. They were currently in the Helios system - a place in the universe that had earned its name. The system had 4 suns, making life on any planet - if it could even be called that - virtually impossible. A sun could be compacted with the latest technology, but even if they had such a thing here, it would cost a lot of money to power it, and a lot of time to use it. Tyron had always dreamt of colonizing a planet one day, but it'd have to wait. They didn't have the people for it anyways.
He sighed and turned to look at Jenkins. "Status report?"
"Engines still running at half capacity, as ordered sir. Heading at cruising speed towards Neos Jumpgate.
"Estimated distance?"
"36.000 km sir."
"Engage warp drive."
"Yes sir."
Before Jenkins could engage the warp engine, a red light lit up the hologram behind Tyron, the usual beep along with it. "Sir, unknown contact!"
"Hold warp!" Tyron ordered as he turned around. Jenkins immediately retracted his hand from the keyboard before him. "Any ideas what it is?" he asked his third mate.
She was quick to reply. "No confirmation yet sir, he's too far for our scanners to get any data yet."
"How far out?"
"12 km sir."
Tyron grabbed the steer and shouted commands. "Jenkins, mobilize the pilots, we might be dealing with a Cruiser or a Battlecruiser. Have the Fighters on stand-by." He then turned to Lara, his second mate, and said "Lara, have gunners report to the portside cannons, I'm turning her into position."
"Yes, sir!" they both confirmed as they started shouting orders around and sending commanders to their posts.
"Who's on communications duty?" he asked without looking behind him.

Lynn peered over to Tyron. "I am!" she shouted with a wave of her hand. Her tail flicked about as her markings turned different colors. Oh this was exciting! She could feel butterflies in her stomach. Rasca chattered, flapping his tail against Lynn's back also seeming excited.

Tyron looked back and noticed Lynn getting excited. He couldn't suppress a smile. "Allright. Get to the terminal over there-" he pointed at a terminal to the right of the room "- and send two messages. One to The shield to get on our tail engine and deploy shields. one to the Prospector to get cover from whatever threat it could be from our ship and the shields."

Lynn nodded and with a little dash and a skid, she jumped into a chair, crouching in it instead of sitting. She was an odd one she was. Her tail kept her balance up while she began typing. Her typing was fast, with the constant clicks of buttons, letters appearing on the screen. With no time wasted she sent both messages. "Done!" she giggled.

The contact on the Confidence's sensors wasn't a Battlecruiser, or any kind of Cruiser-weight ship. It wasn't even a Frigate! The contact was, in fact, a rather pitiful-looking fighter of the SAR-16 "Arrow" designation, a light interceptor that had seen better days. The shields were gone, the array totally destroyed and one of the engines had been blown clean off. It was limping by, venting atmosphere and small pieces of debris from a few tears in the hull. It was a minor miracle there was even that left of this ship, considering the scorch marks and other evidence of weapons impacts on it.

Inside the cockpit, her flight suit geared towards full hard-vacuum survival, Wren Tain was wrestling with the flickering, barely-online control systems of her small ship, "Come on old girl, hold it together. You've been in worse scrapes." She said, patting the control panel comfortingly, a warning light flashed on the screen, amongst all the others. Wren glared at it, "Oh no! Don't you dare let the reactor go critical, I am not getting vaped by my own damned ship!" She slammed her fist on the control panel and that particular warning light flicked off, she nodded, "Good., thought you'd see it my way."

Almost at once another light flickered into life and she groaned, "What no- a ship?" She stared at the light, "Uh-oh, and she 'aint small fry either. Hm..." She paused for a moment, "Well, better switch on my transponder, 'least I can ping her for an ident. Just my luck if she's a navy patrol ship." She tapped a few controls and her ship's IFF beacon activated, identifying her as a royal navy fighter. Hey, so she hadn't bothered doctoring her identification codes beyond swapping her ship's registry details. Pretending to still be with the navy had its perks sometimes. Once her ship was transmitting its identity, Wren tapped another control and her sensors pinged the other, larger vessel. At least her active sensor suite was still functioning.

When her ship registered the returning ping and told her exactly what she was faced with she sucked in a surprised breath, "A god-damned Battlecruiser!? Who the hell flies around in a Battlecruiser!?" Her helmeted head fell into her hands, "Well, I'm screwed."

"Good job!" he turned back to the holo, leaving the ship to stay still in space. Right at that moment, a label appeared next to the dot. He immediately enlarged it.

chaser SAR 16
Royal navy
damaged

"Lara, i need engineers and troopers in the fighter loading bay." He then took a transponder. He put it to his mouth.
"This is captain Tyron from the confidence state your business."

Wren started slightly as the sudden voice came over her comms channel, she flicked a switch to activate her end of the connection, "Wren Tain, pilot of the royal navy in need of immediate assistance. Engines mostly offline, shields gone, weapons depleted and more holes in the hull than I'd like. Business? Presently twiddling my thumbs waiting for either rescue or death by dehydration or starvation. Other than that, enjoying the lovely view of this system." Her voice had a biting sarcastic tone, after all his ship's sensors would easily see the state her ship was in. What did he think she was doing in a barely-functioning fighter?

"So that's me." Wren continued, "And who might yourself be, Captain? Navy? Freelancer?" Normally she'd be all 'sirs' and politeness to a ranking officer, but her situation hadn't helped her mood and the worst he could do was blast her to atoms for her tone. Well, actually, the worst thing he could do is leave her there to die a slow horrible death, "Hope you're in a charitable mood."

Tyron frowned at the reply. "What is a navy pilot doing out here, on his own, obviously quite damaged? Did your squadron get in trouble?" he sighed? "Never mind, We'll let you in. Move to hangar 6-B, you'll be awaited there. Tyron out."
He put away the transponder and looked at Jenkins. "I want engineers and two squadrons of troopers in fighter hangar 6-B ASAP. Make sure hat fighter makes it in here alive, I need to see him for myself."
"Yes, sir." Jenkins replied.

Wren frowned, "Hangar 6-B, huh? Didn't hear me when I said my propulsion is shot to hell? I'm missing a goddamn engine!" Wren sighed, "Bloody officers." She started wrestling with her battered ship, turning the fighter towards the Confidence and began to accelerate as much as she dared with the ship's hull as damaged as it was and once of her engines missing. She hadn't noticed that her end of the comms channel was stilll on, "Damned captain called me a man too! When I get on that ship..." She muttered darkly.

Eventually she reached the small fleet, as she nudged her wounded fighter into the Confidence's hangar, she sighed, "A Battlecruiser and two Cruisers." She said sourly, "Outnumbered and ourgunned. There goes my Plamn B."

"Jenkins, she's yours." Tyron said. "Come on Lynn, let's go welcome our new visitor!" He walked out the door and got into the elevator system. Several magnetized boxes that could be propelled horizontally and vertically, allowing for easy and fast transport throughout the entire ship. He entered the cabin and waited for Lynn to follow him in. As soon as she had, the lift shot down and forward. It took them mere minutes to get to the right hangar. The door opened with a soft sound and Tyron stepped onto the hangar catwalk. He stayed there for a moment to overwatch the hangar before him. The fighter lying there on the hangar floor was badly damaged, but it was clearly the same model he had commissioned for his fleet. It appeared to be navy, but Tyron still suspected it not to be. Or not anymore, at least.

The spacedoor closed, and oxigen was pumped into the landing area. As soon as that was finished, the doors to the hanger opened. The two sqauds ordered on stand-by remained at the entrance, ready to fire if anything hostile decided to make its way in. The engineer squad was right behind them, ready when nessecary. Now all that needed to be done was for the pilot, be it a he or a she, to come out.

Lynn followed Tyron. "Welcome them? OH Great!" she was overly excited as she had been for a while now.

The cockpit of the half-ruined fighter opened and Wren clambered out, her eyes narrowing beneath her helmet as she spotted the two squads of security personnel near the doors. With an almost imperceptible sigh she climbed down to the floor and walked over towards Tyron, she unclipped her helmet and pulled it off, her hand rested warily on the pistol belted to her side, "Well, Captain Tyron I assume?" She asked, her tone was just as wary as her posture, she pointed over her shoulder with her thumb at the fighter, "Old Valkyrie there is pretty shot up, might want to get your boys to check over her weapons systems and the reactor, Wouldn't want her to finally give up and blow a hole in your ship." She paused for a moment, "Thanks for the pick up, it was getting a bit dicey near the end there."

She frowned slightly, "You don't look like Navy... and you didn't blast me outta the stars or lock me up straight away, so I guess you 'aint pirate neither... unless you're one of them polite types who says hi and welcome aboard 'afore the torture stars?"

Tyron nodded at the engineers, who were still waiting for his signal. They walked over to the ships and started investigating it, to see if there was anything that could be salvaged. He then turned to Lynn. "Feel free to take a look as well, if you want. This was your job, after all - before you joined us." he waved her off with a smile on his face.

Tyron then turned back to Wren. "No, I'm not navy, and I am certainly not a pirate. I know several of thos who'd like to see me ripped apart and scattered across the universe, though I don't see that happening anytime soon." he chuckled. "I'm Captain Tyron, commander, privateer, transporter... Whatever you want to call me. I take on jobs and complete them, together with all the good people that accompany me."

Wren nodded, "Glad to make your acquaintance, captain." She said with a slight smile, she studied him for a moment, "I suppose that you'll be looking up my records later, to find if I am who I say I am?" She glanced behind her at her fighter, and sighed, "She looks pretty bad, huh? I hope you can find something still working on her. I'd hate to abandon the old girl entirely."

"Yes, I will be checking up on you. Except you would like to tell me yourself, then I will respect that." she nodded at her statement on the fighter. "Yes, I doubt we'll be able to restore it. We'll have to see about that." he motioned for her to join him as he walked back towards the elevator. "Well then, if you would like to come along, so you can tell me whatever it is you want to say?"

Lynn nodded and now had a more serious expression. The ship was beat up pretty badly but she could most likely salvage some good parts. She looked to the pilot with a smile a moment before strolling off towards the ship. "First going to shut down the reactor and weapons system then." she said to herself. Rasca hopped onto the ground, running along side her. Lynn moved past some engineers, inspecting the ships hull before she went inside. There were a couple small bangs and some clanging, she would start to get to work.

Wren nodded and followed Tyron towards the elevator, "Well, you'll figure it out once you get my records, so I may as well come clean. I was lying when I said I was a navy pilot. I used to be, but I'm not now. I was stationed aboard a carrier called the Illustrious, mostly anti-pirate operations and patrols. My squadron commander was from a rich family, he's was an okay flier, but if I'm being honest I could have shot him outta the sky with a hand behind my back and both eyes closed. Thing is, he didn't have much regard for frat regs, and there weren't all that many women on the Illustrious. He kept trying to get a little... friendly, shall we say, but he wasn't my type. He kept pushing, but I wasn't giving, but he was an insistent son of a..." She stopped herself, "Anyway, I got sick of him and sick of th rest of 'em for ignoring his conduct, so one day I punch his lights out, knocked a few teeth out, broke his nose. Pissed him off royally and tried to get me court-martialled for assaulting a superior officer. I knew he was connected and there was no way I'd not get found guilty and discharged, at best. So I took my fighter and skipped out."

She glanced at Tyron, "So, the navy had me listed as AWOL and put it out that I was to be recaptured and brought back for court-martialling; dereliction of duty, assaulting a superior officer, theft of naval property, cowardice maybe, insubordination might get thrown in too. It was a good run while it lasted, but I guess you'll be taking me back, huh? Might get a nice little payment." She seemed resigned, "Still, I'll warn ya, if you are planning on taking me back I won't just give up. Lock me in the brig or whatever, but I'm not gonna get taken back to the navy for hanging or whatever the hell they'll do to me quietly."

Tyron shook his head. "Or you can come with me." he replied bluntly. He quickly continued in explaining. "Look, I'm a privateer for Etharon. It's a realm of its own, with its own laws. One of those laws dictate that any who join a privateer in service of the Etharon council are protected by any and all laws from other nations, factions or organisations. He can only be commanded by his officers on board - which is in this case me and my officers." He took a short pause. "So, basicly, you can either join my fleet as a fighter - you will get a new one, don't worry - Or I can lock you up and take you back to the navy, to be judged and convicted by their laws and rules. It's your life and your decision." he shrugged as he stated the simple series of facts.

Wren stopped suddenly as he made his offer, and then hurried to catch back up with him, "I'll get a proper fighter? I'll get to fly properly, in a proper squadron again, and I won't get brought back to the navy if I sign up?" She sounded incredulous, "All you've seen from me is that I got my ship wasted, and yet you're willing to take me on board!?" She smiled, "Well, captain, the fact is, if you're willing to have me, then I'm more than happy to serve under you. So long as you don't turn out like my last CO, of course." she said with a slight smile, "Though you don't seem to be the type."

"I'm certainly not a spoiled rich kid, if that's what you're saying." he chuckled. "First things first though, I need to see you in action. We're on our way through this barren wasteland of a system for a reason. A pirate carrier and some frigates are moving with high speed through several jump portals. I don't know why, but I've been tasked to take them out. Orders are straight from the Etharon council, so it's probably high priority if they contact me in person. Unless there's cruisers we don't know of, this should be an easy mission." He took a tablet from his pocket and wrote down her name in a list of squadrons. "You will be assigned to sargeant Liam's squad as a rookie. I know you're probably better than a rookie, but we all need to follow procedure. Perform well on this mission, and Liam will write me the report so I can decide wether or not to take you in permanently. Sounds fair?"