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Hi everyone. I've been thinking for a while about writing something for Starmade, and I've decided to give it a go. So, here it is, "Freighters."
Chapter One - Among the Asteroids
Chapter Two- Fool's Gold
Credit to AAlexandrosTGreat for all current chapter header images.
Chapter One - Among the Asteroids
BEGIN
A modest salvager/freighter ship slowly floats through an asteroid field, occasionally scanning the various colored rocks for more valuable minerals, with no luck. A mere 100 meters long, she is built to be small enough to fit through asteroid clusters while still having plenty of vital cargo space. Her cargo hold is already quite full of manufactured materials, but there is still an empty plex storage or two for rare capsules.
Another asteroid is passed, this time a beautiful blue larimar asteroid. The bulky turret on top of the ship swivels around to face it, and the smaller of it's dual barrels glows red before a thin beam flies out, punching a thin hole through the asteroid. A quick scan of the internals proves that while the surface is beautiful, the low quality capsules inside are worth less than dirt.
The team at the bridge of the ship, located above the maw of the main salvage array, sit disappointed.
"This whole asteroid field is worth nothing. It'd be more worth our time to farm cactus on some back-ass desert world." remarks the engineer managing the remote control center for the turret and plex skids.
"It's not like we're here to strike it rich on some huge asteroid with a pure crystal core. We're just trying to lose them so we don't get ambushed next time we drop out from a jump," replies the irked captain, who proceeds to glare at the radar operator/navigator. "Again."
"Fuck off. It ain't my fault ya haven't forked over the credits to replace the damned module in 8 fuckin' years." Replied the equally angry navigator. "And as someone who grew up on a back-ass cactus farm, I take a bit of offense to that, ya turret swivelin' fuck."
"Nav, if we can finish transporting what were supposed to, I'll buy you the newest fucking model of radar equipment on the market if it means you'll stop bitching about it every 3 seconds."
Suddenly, a light begins to blink on radar screen. Then a second. Then an ominously large third one in the center. All three icons glow a purple color. Incoming jump signatures. They stand out from the faint yellow dots of asteroids that fill the screen. And then the purple dots turn, one by one, to a color all freighters fear. Red.
"I think they found us."
A modest salvager/freighter ship slowly floats through an asteroid field, occasionally scanning the various colored rocks for more valuable minerals, with no luck. A mere 100 meters long, she is built to be small enough to fit through asteroid clusters while still having plenty of vital cargo space. Her cargo hold is already quite full of manufactured materials, but there is still an empty plex storage or two for rare capsules.
Another asteroid is passed, this time a beautiful blue larimar asteroid. The bulky turret on top of the ship swivels around to face it, and the smaller of it's dual barrels glows red before a thin beam flies out, punching a thin hole through the asteroid. A quick scan of the internals proves that while the surface is beautiful, the low quality capsules inside are worth less than dirt.
The team at the bridge of the ship, located above the maw of the main salvage array, sit disappointed.
"This whole asteroid field is worth nothing. It'd be more worth our time to farm cactus on some back-ass desert world." remarks the engineer managing the remote control center for the turret and plex skids.
"It's not like we're here to strike it rich on some huge asteroid with a pure crystal core. We're just trying to lose them so we don't get ambushed next time we drop out from a jump," replies the irked captain, who proceeds to glare at the radar operator/navigator. "Again."
"Fuck off. It ain't my fault ya haven't forked over the credits to replace the damned module in 8 fuckin' years." Replied the equally angry navigator. "And as someone who grew up on a back-ass cactus farm, I take a bit of offense to that, ya turret swivelin' fuck."
"Nav, if we can finish transporting what were supposed to, I'll buy you the newest fucking model of radar equipment on the market if it means you'll stop bitching about it every 3 seconds."
Suddenly, a light begins to blink on radar screen. Then a second. Then an ominously large third one in the center. All three icons glow a purple color. Incoming jump signatures. They stand out from the faint yellow dots of asteroids that fill the screen. And then the purple dots turn, one by one, to a color all freighters fear. Red.
"I think they found us."
Chapter Two- Fool's Gold
“Well, that ain't good.”
400 meters in front of the salvager sit three pirate ships, still glimmering with the after-glow of a successful jump. In the center sits a captured medical ship, 100 meters long, the majority of the medical systems long since ripped out and replaced with weaponry and cargo space. Floating to one side sits an outdated Isanth IV, and on the other a recent Mp variant. All three have added red stripes and crudely painted skulls to them.
A pinging sound rings out from the comms feed, indicating someone is attempting to hail the ship. The woman at the comm station glances over at the captain, who merely nods. She presses the button to open communication channels.
“ATTENTION FREIGHTER VESSEL “VARACANER.” This is a RAID on your military cargo! Deactivate your engines and surrender your cargo of cannon modules. We know you have it, our spies within the trade guild confirm it. Load the cargo into skids and send it over. Failure to comply will result in immediate destruction.
Following the threat, the twin pulse missile launchers on the Mp variant glow, then return to normal, the meaning of the threat delivered.
With a sigh of defeat, the captain issues the order to stop the engines and load up a cargo skid. In the rear hangar, the crew preps the cargo skid, a small, remotely controlled ship comprised of nothing more than an engine, a solitary power module, a core, and a pile of storages.
The military cargo is loaded into the high-powered compression storages. A micro-logic timer and activator is quietly slipped into a storage along with the weapons. The face of the timer reads 00:02:00, and begins to slowly tick down.
Back at the bridge, the RC operator relinquishes control the turret, and begins to pilot the skid.
00:01:30
A voice comes over the communication feed once more.
“I’d like to thank you for following our orders so clearly and precise. It’s a rare find in these times for a cargo vessel to surrender with no fight. Doesn’t make a difference for us, of course,” says the voice of the pirated medical frigate’s captain, smugly. “Seeing as how we never lose.
00:01:00
The captain presses the button to reply.
“We are strong believers of the idea that cargo is not worth one’s life. After all, you can always live another day to haul more cargo. Isn’t that right, crew?”
00:00:30
A varied collection of mumbles, groans, and agreements flood over the comm from the freighter to the frigate.
00:00:15
The skid flies through the open hangar door of the pirate’s commandeered medical frigate.
“We’re set, captain,” says the RC operator quietly.
00:00:05
“You, however, seem to have taken the alternate route.”
00:00:04
“Hope your buddies manage to get some better intelligence.”
00:00:03
“Because we aren't hauling military cannons, dumbass.”
00:00:02
“We’re carrying a haul of disintegrators.”
00:00:01
“Wait, what?” Responds the pirate captain, his voice suddenly full of fear.
In the pirate’s hangar, a young man pulls the lid off the storage and looks inside.
00:00:00.
A scorching fireball suddenly rips through the pirate frigate, shields dropping instantly against the glowing behemoth, the red glow of downed shields spreading ominously across the entire surface of the ship. Orange flames rip through the hull as the hallways fill with fire and burst, unable to hold back the unholy destructive power of thousands of high explosives activating in a single meter of storage space. The ship rips in half as the pressure shears the metal of the ship on either side of the hangar away. An Isanth is launched from the hangar by the explosion, nothing but a charred mess remaining.
The borders of the fireball slam into the two Isanths escorting the frigate. Shields instantly drop on both, the weaker of the two instantly loses a wing, and is launched away, smacking into a nearby chabaz asteroid, scattering rock, low end ores, and ship guts away into space. The stronger spins wildly, the half of the ship facing the annihilated frigate now charred black.
The surviving Mp Isanth begins to charge up its siege missile launchers, but only one barrel glows, the other melted shut in the explosion. It’s too late for it, anyway. The turret on the freighter swivels around, and quickly reaches a bright glow, charging much faster than the powerful missiles of the fighter craft.
“Say your fuckin’ prayers, scum,” mutters the turret RC operator.
A shining burst of laser beam shoots out of the turret and collides with the Isanth at light speed. A gaping hole punches through the hull of the ship, and exits through the other side. A beam meant for coring asteroids works just as well at ripping ships a new one.
Silently, the small punch beam barrel of the turret cools down, and the freighter silently floats among the wreckage. Charred chunks of hull, asteroid, and the occasional astronaut, a few with pirate markings still visible on their suits, float around.
The woman at the comms station clears her throat in an attempt to break apart the silent staring.
“So, uh… that was exciting.”
“It’s fuckin’ bullshit is what it is. We went and lost half our disintegrator cargo just then. The trading guild’s gunna be pissed.” The radar operator continues to angrily mutter under his breath after finishing the louder portion of his rant.
“I’m mainly just sad we lost that damn skid. It was the best one we had,” laments the RC operator.
The captain finally works up the nerve to stop staring at the scene of destruction.
“I don’t really care what the fucking trade guild cares about at this point. We’re delivering to them what we have left, collecting our credits, and to hell with them if they have a problem with that.”
He angrily slams the button to begin charging the FTL drive.
“We're leaving this field of destruction, now.”
“Shouldn't we, I don't fucking know, salvage some of this stuff from the pirates?” asks the RC operator.
“I’m not letting a single block of pirate hull in our storage bays.” After glancing at the bridge and noticing the all around glares from crew members, he quickly adds, “It’s probably all fried into uselessness by the explosion anyway.”
A short sound rings, indicated the jump drive is fully charged.
“We’re done here.”
A set of coordinates is entered, a button is pressed, and the jump drive whirs to life. The glitter of warp coats over the ship, and suddenly the ship is gone into a vortex of stars and purple nebula, leaving behind red-hot hulls and corpses, cooling into the vacuum.
400 meters in front of the salvager sit three pirate ships, still glimmering with the after-glow of a successful jump. In the center sits a captured medical ship, 100 meters long, the majority of the medical systems long since ripped out and replaced with weaponry and cargo space. Floating to one side sits an outdated Isanth IV, and on the other a recent Mp variant. All three have added red stripes and crudely painted skulls to them.
A pinging sound rings out from the comms feed, indicating someone is attempting to hail the ship. The woman at the comm station glances over at the captain, who merely nods. She presses the button to open communication channels.
“ATTENTION FREIGHTER VESSEL “VARACANER.” This is a RAID on your military cargo! Deactivate your engines and surrender your cargo of cannon modules. We know you have it, our spies within the trade guild confirm it. Load the cargo into skids and send it over. Failure to comply will result in immediate destruction.
Following the threat, the twin pulse missile launchers on the Mp variant glow, then return to normal, the meaning of the threat delivered.
With a sigh of defeat, the captain issues the order to stop the engines and load up a cargo skid. In the rear hangar, the crew preps the cargo skid, a small, remotely controlled ship comprised of nothing more than an engine, a solitary power module, a core, and a pile of storages.
The military cargo is loaded into the high-powered compression storages. A micro-logic timer and activator is quietly slipped into a storage along with the weapons. The face of the timer reads 00:02:00, and begins to slowly tick down.
Back at the bridge, the RC operator relinquishes control the turret, and begins to pilot the skid.
00:01:30
A voice comes over the communication feed once more.
“I’d like to thank you for following our orders so clearly and precise. It’s a rare find in these times for a cargo vessel to surrender with no fight. Doesn’t make a difference for us, of course,” says the voice of the pirated medical frigate’s captain, smugly. “Seeing as how we never lose.
00:01:00
The captain presses the button to reply.
“We are strong believers of the idea that cargo is not worth one’s life. After all, you can always live another day to haul more cargo. Isn’t that right, crew?”
00:00:30
A varied collection of mumbles, groans, and agreements flood over the comm from the freighter to the frigate.
00:00:15
The skid flies through the open hangar door of the pirate’s commandeered medical frigate.
“We’re set, captain,” says the RC operator quietly.
00:00:05
“You, however, seem to have taken the alternate route.”
00:00:04
“Hope your buddies manage to get some better intelligence.”
00:00:03
“Because we aren't hauling military cannons, dumbass.”
00:00:02
“We’re carrying a haul of disintegrators.”
00:00:01
“Wait, what?” Responds the pirate captain, his voice suddenly full of fear.
In the pirate’s hangar, a young man pulls the lid off the storage and looks inside.
00:00:00.
A scorching fireball suddenly rips through the pirate frigate, shields dropping instantly against the glowing behemoth, the red glow of downed shields spreading ominously across the entire surface of the ship. Orange flames rip through the hull as the hallways fill with fire and burst, unable to hold back the unholy destructive power of thousands of high explosives activating in a single meter of storage space. The ship rips in half as the pressure shears the metal of the ship on either side of the hangar away. An Isanth is launched from the hangar by the explosion, nothing but a charred mess remaining.
The borders of the fireball slam into the two Isanths escorting the frigate. Shields instantly drop on both, the weaker of the two instantly loses a wing, and is launched away, smacking into a nearby chabaz asteroid, scattering rock, low end ores, and ship guts away into space. The stronger spins wildly, the half of the ship facing the annihilated frigate now charred black.
The surviving Mp Isanth begins to charge up its siege missile launchers, but only one barrel glows, the other melted shut in the explosion. It’s too late for it, anyway. The turret on the freighter swivels around, and quickly reaches a bright glow, charging much faster than the powerful missiles of the fighter craft.
“Say your fuckin’ prayers, scum,” mutters the turret RC operator.
A shining burst of laser beam shoots out of the turret and collides with the Isanth at light speed. A gaping hole punches through the hull of the ship, and exits through the other side. A beam meant for coring asteroids works just as well at ripping ships a new one.
Silently, the small punch beam barrel of the turret cools down, and the freighter silently floats among the wreckage. Charred chunks of hull, asteroid, and the occasional astronaut, a few with pirate markings still visible on their suits, float around.
The woman at the comms station clears her throat in an attempt to break apart the silent staring.
“So, uh… that was exciting.”
“It’s fuckin’ bullshit is what it is. We went and lost half our disintegrator cargo just then. The trading guild’s gunna be pissed.” The radar operator continues to angrily mutter under his breath after finishing the louder portion of his rant.
“I’m mainly just sad we lost that damn skid. It was the best one we had,” laments the RC operator.
The captain finally works up the nerve to stop staring at the scene of destruction.
“I don’t really care what the fucking trade guild cares about at this point. We’re delivering to them what we have left, collecting our credits, and to hell with them if they have a problem with that.”
He angrily slams the button to begin charging the FTL drive.
“We're leaving this field of destruction, now.”
“Shouldn't we, I don't fucking know, salvage some of this stuff from the pirates?” asks the RC operator.
“I’m not letting a single block of pirate hull in our storage bays.” After glancing at the bridge and noticing the all around glares from crew members, he quickly adds, “It’s probably all fried into uselessness by the explosion anyway.”
A short sound rings, indicated the jump drive is fully charged.
“We’re done here.”
A set of coordinates is entered, a button is pressed, and the jump drive whirs to life. The glitter of warp coats over the ship, and suddenly the ship is gone into a vortex of stars and purple nebula, leaving behind red-hot hulls and corpses, cooling into the vacuum.
Credit to AAlexandrosTGreat for all current chapter header images.
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