A S&R CMDR Sob Story

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CMDR MunChuuChrr
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A S&R CMDR Sob Story

Postby CMDR MunChuuChrr » Wed Mar 28, 2018 3:26 am

“CMDR .. chu..? Shoe? MunChuuChrr?”

Xavier stood from his seat next on the public concourse, and went to go talk with Hoard Orbital’s Search and Rescue agent. The overworked bureaucrat shuffled about the notice icons on his holo display as he tried to find the specifics his neural interface conduit and soft A.I. assistant bundle insisted were there.

“CMDR, we appreciate the report. However no, the additional pods have not been recovered.”

The agent’s tone was flat, polite but matter of fact. Xavier felt a lump in his throat with the news about the additional escape pods from the wreckage he had come across.

“I’m, what, sorry, but not recovered? There were six out there. And I took the two I had cargo space for. I sent out the other’s coordinates, heading, speed, all of it with a flash bulletin through the system network. I..’

Taking a deep breath, the S&R agent raised a hand, and started to raise his voice briefly to cut Xavier off.

“You did everything you could, with the circumstances you were given Commander... Listen, you didn’t lose four lives today, you saved two. That is the nature of our business Commander, stealing life like crumbs from death’s massive maw. Now, please, I can’t play therapist any more today, alright?”

Xavier still felt a bit stunned, and as if in a dream, but nodded his head.

“Thanks..”

With that he turned and went to leave the S&R kiosk on Hoard Orbital’s lower bay area. The agent was right, Xavier knew it, that didn’t make it easier. The two escape pods Xavier had recovered, the two daughters of a family en route to Darlton Base on Una 5. The four left, the girl’s parents who were xenobiologist on a research grant to study the aquatic life on Una 6, and two other academics on a speaking tour regarding recruitment of STEM students into the Federal Navy's office of special projects. It wasn’t clear yet what disaster had befallen the 'Una's Torch' an ASP Explorer research vessel, the pride of Una Institute of Technology university, and why its FSD had dropped from super cruise so violently that the hull had experienced catastrophic failure. An inquiry on the university’s side would maybe find answers as they engaged in salvage efforts.

Still Xavier caught himself clenching his fist so hard, that he felt the pain of his nails in his palms and ache of his fingers from the strain. Guilt, as if because he was a Commander of a ship, somehow he was able, expected, to somehow always prevail against the uncountable disasters that space had in its arsenal at every instant. Now a bitter and numbing shower of reality was falling on him. Commander or not, space was indifferent and cared little for human effort or ability. The void of the Milky Way was a fickle mistress, forever churning her residents about.
"We should do what is right, not necessarily what is easy or popular." Shadow President Felicia Winters

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SockFiddler
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Re: A S&R CMDR Sob Story

Postby SockFiddler » Sat Jun 30, 2018 6:30 am

Fed Space. I fucking hate Fed Space, but the delivery paid too well to snub and it's just a hop, skip and a jump to... anywhere better. Plus, my bounties (flight incursions, not piracy... take note) were still ticking down elsewhere and it's nice to walk into a bar and not have everyone roll their eyes at you sometimes. Well, that and fucking Aisling's fucking wedding being all that anyone wants to goddamned talk about in Cemiess right now - Mira is very tight-lipped on the matter, though her family, it seems, has much to say to her about it. I do not expect to be her +1 when she gets the invitation.

Anyway, I'd been offered another one of those bullshit promotions. You know, the ones that say, "Thanks so much for clearing up our crap for us. Here's something shiny to keep your drunk ass happy. Now if you'd like to jump off into someone else's problems, that'd be just peachy - ta". I plan to be hungover for the ceremony: I find it helps with the eye-rolling that people seem to dislike.

In any case, the Feds don't love me so much as to un-ban me from Earth so, as far as I can see, this is just so much glad-handing to keep my guns on their side of the battle lines.

I thump down onto the pad in Hoard Orbital - a relatively pleasant space - in Gudrun's Deed, my beaten-up but ever-faithful DBX, wait for the clamps to grab me and then hop out of the bird. The ground crew are bemused by her dusty pink colour, but one fellow offers to try to touch up her paint job all the same. He's not an asshole, so I nod and smile and say, "Sure" before asking directions to the bar nearest to the Billeting Office.

"The Lord Washington" (perplexingly) is my destination for the evening, just past the S&R kiosk, and I'm not really paying attention as I head over there: there's a data stream from Mira which I've downloaded to my suit with the intention of watching it in my bunk when I'm wasted later, but I'm sneaking a peak now.

She's smiling beguilingly at the camera with a vast array of-

"Hey!" I'm about to chew off some bitingly crude insult to whoever just slammed into my shoulder, but my wise-crack dies in my throat when I see the face of the "offender" ("" because, let's be honest, the collision is entirely my fault): a more broken, dead-eyed creature I've never witnessed, at least since my own existential crisis some months ago, anyway. He stands a little taller than me, is clearly a Fed stick jock - flight suit, patches, shiny boots - but looks at me with eyes that are clearly seeing something else and not me at all. His hands are rigidly clenched so hard that his knuckles are white.

"Hey..." I say again, more gently this time: It's hard to be an abrasive, self-serving bitch when you're staring into the eyes of someone about to literally fall apart. He doesn't seem to see me; I reach out to gently touch his arm. "Hey, man. You okay? Need a drink?"
"Drink fast, die young"
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