Jethro Rekali
Deus Vulture
TARTARUS FLEET BATTLEFIELD
RISHI MAZE
“Updating log,” Jethro Rekali drawled. He popped the tab on a can of lum and slurped some down. In a cockpit this cramped, on a mission this long, a few creature comforts were essential.
“The client's digging into the salvage pretty well. There's a bunch of other salvage ships around, none that concern me much. Haven't picked up any warships, raiders, nothing like that yet.”
The whole salvage field orbited fairly close to a star - lots of light and heat and random radiation. The client had mentioned something about a Dyson ring around a compressed star, a ring that had melted when the star expanded back to its normal size. Tall tales, far as Jethro was concerned. Now the only proof anything had happened in this system was the debris of the fleet battle.
Jethro chugged half the can and switched the fighter's sensor overlays. “Only real worry is the wrecks. Might be some active droids in there still. Client gave me the basic files on Contingency ships and the fight - looks like seven Centaur corvettes, three Mantle light cruisers, couple of Hydra frigates, one Leviathan cruiser and two Annihilator cruisers. All blown up or otherwise shot to heck. Then there's the wreckage of six or seven ships that weren't Contingency, but I'm not too concerned about them. Good haul for salvage crews if they manage their risks. All quiet at my end.”
The audio recorder shut off with a double click. This old starfighter had a lot of analog controls like that, prone to odd noises and tactile feedback. Most days he found that reassuring, genuine. Today he found it annoying. Artifact of being on edge, maybe, worried that another salvager crew or leftover war droid would take a shot at the client's freighter.
“Screw it.”
He turned on the comms, blasted an old tune, and started singing along. After six days in this cockpit, why the heck not.
https://youtu.be/75dtjFSBsPc
RISHI MAZE
“Updating log,” Jethro Rekali drawled. He popped the tab on a can of lum and slurped some down. In a cockpit this cramped, on a mission this long, a few creature comforts were essential.
“The client's digging into the salvage pretty well. There's a bunch of other salvage ships around, none that concern me much. Haven't picked up any warships, raiders, nothing like that yet.”
The whole salvage field orbited fairly close to a star - lots of light and heat and random radiation. The client had mentioned something about a Dyson ring around a compressed star, a ring that had melted when the star expanded back to its normal size. Tall tales, far as Jethro was concerned. Now the only proof anything had happened in this system was the debris of the fleet battle.
Jethro chugged half the can and switched the fighter's sensor overlays. “Only real worry is the wrecks. Might be some active droids in there still. Client gave me the basic files on Contingency ships and the fight - looks like seven Centaur corvettes, three Mantle light cruisers, couple of Hydra frigates, one Leviathan cruiser and two Annihilator cruisers. All blown up or otherwise shot to heck. Then there's the wreckage of six or seven ships that weren't Contingency, but I'm not too concerned about them. Good haul for salvage crews if they manage their risks. All quiet at my end.”
The audio recorder shut off with a double click. This old starfighter had a lot of analog controls like that, prone to odd noises and tactile feedback. Most days he found that reassuring, genuine. Today he found it annoying. Artifact of being on edge, maybe, worried that another salvager crew or leftover war droid would take a shot at the client's freighter.
“Screw it.”
He turned on the comms, blasted an old tune, and started singing along. After six days in this cockpit, why the heck not.
https://youtu.be/75dtjFSBsPc