Post by Souvarine on May 26, 2016 21:16:47 GMT
This is Souvarine's first log in Season Three. Bit dull but it gets the job done and gives the reader what they need to know.
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The war ended on the nineteenth of May.
The Pact surrendered Szentmartony City unconditionally. The day will be forever in my mind - swinging the Hammerhead exhaustedly into the docking bay there; seeing the pilots climb, tired but jubilant, from their combat craft, amid cheers. When the Executive Orca, 'Expeditionary One', touched down for the first time, a roar like none I've ever heard erupted throughout the ragtag crowd.
I remember pulling my flight helmet off to see the Octopus appear at the threshold of the loading bay. She was wearing a stern, statesmanlike grey gown; her thick black braids piled up on her head like an elaborate crown. She nodded tersely at the cheering pilots, her slight smile playing at the corners of her mouth. An expression of resolute, vindicated satisfaction at a victory hard-won.
That was two weeks ago. It seems like months. The Pact garrison quickly evaporated, so we formed a civilian police corps and claimed the station as our own. After that, events accelerated past my comprehension and I haven't been able to keep pace.
Our victory at Szentmartony made the other factions in the system sit up and take notice. Magnus Trabe disappeared; rumour has it he fled to Clapperton Enterprise. TravSol - long the dominant power here - had been in long term decline; that quickly began to look terminal. Elections were called at Dashiell Orbital to peaceably decide who should govern the System and IPEC won resoundingly. The populace of Bernoulli Gateway, the starport closest to the central star, have called a plebiscite of their own. I'm told that the results are expected to be similar.
In a few short weeks the Imperial Private Expeditionary Company has gone from a small commercial enterprise with no territory, to the governing power in a star system of seven billion souls. We've dethroned well-established bastions of hereditary Imperial rule, and overnight taken giant city-states as our own, to widespread astonishment. All this from a private company led by a woman with no political heritage. After we finally beat the Pact, it was though all the dominoes fell one after the other. It was almost too easy.
It's almost as if we have some guardian angel.
The Octopus has invited us to join the Board for our efforts. The victory wasn't without spoils, either - my war bonds have paid for the newest addition to the Souvarine Space Fleet: the SSF Lord of Kobol.
It's an Anaconda-class gunboat, the largest ship that Faulcon DeLacy build. There's room in the hold for several surface landers, several hundred tons of cargo and even a launch bay for the Weasel. I don't have the credits to completely outfit her as I'd like, yet, so for now she's heavy freighter. She does, however, boast three enormous cannons and five lasers.
This is my first Commander's Log from the bridge. The voice of Penelope, the ship's computer, echoes around it, it's that large.
Of course, a ship this size and age invariably has vermin. I last spotted Margot delightedly hurtling down one of the labyrinthine corridors below, on the scent of something. I think she likes it here.
Now we're at peace, I'm familiarising myself with the local shipping lanes. De Lay Terminal seems to be a central trading hub for Imperial slaves and I'm making some credits shipping them out. Rather a lot of credits, in fact.
It's peaceful work after all the fighting. Peaceful and refreshingly... legal.
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The war ended on the nineteenth of May.
The Pact surrendered Szentmartony City unconditionally. The day will be forever in my mind - swinging the Hammerhead exhaustedly into the docking bay there; seeing the pilots climb, tired but jubilant, from their combat craft, amid cheers. When the Executive Orca, 'Expeditionary One', touched down for the first time, a roar like none I've ever heard erupted throughout the ragtag crowd.
I remember pulling my flight helmet off to see the Octopus appear at the threshold of the loading bay. She was wearing a stern, statesmanlike grey gown; her thick black braids piled up on her head like an elaborate crown. She nodded tersely at the cheering pilots, her slight smile playing at the corners of her mouth. An expression of resolute, vindicated satisfaction at a victory hard-won.
That was two weeks ago. It seems like months. The Pact garrison quickly evaporated, so we formed a civilian police corps and claimed the station as our own. After that, events accelerated past my comprehension and I haven't been able to keep pace.
Our victory at Szentmartony made the other factions in the system sit up and take notice. Magnus Trabe disappeared; rumour has it he fled to Clapperton Enterprise. TravSol - long the dominant power here - had been in long term decline; that quickly began to look terminal. Elections were called at Dashiell Orbital to peaceably decide who should govern the System and IPEC won resoundingly. The populace of Bernoulli Gateway, the starport closest to the central star, have called a plebiscite of their own. I'm told that the results are expected to be similar.
In a few short weeks the Imperial Private Expeditionary Company has gone from a small commercial enterprise with no territory, to the governing power in a star system of seven billion souls. We've dethroned well-established bastions of hereditary Imperial rule, and overnight taken giant city-states as our own, to widespread astonishment. All this from a private company led by a woman with no political heritage. After we finally beat the Pact, it was though all the dominoes fell one after the other. It was almost too easy.
It's almost as if we have some guardian angel.
The Octopus has invited us to join the Board for our efforts. The victory wasn't without spoils, either - my war bonds have paid for the newest addition to the Souvarine Space Fleet: the SSF Lord of Kobol.
It's an Anaconda-class gunboat, the largest ship that Faulcon DeLacy build. There's room in the hold for several surface landers, several hundred tons of cargo and even a launch bay for the Weasel. I don't have the credits to completely outfit her as I'd like, yet, so for now she's heavy freighter. She does, however, boast three enormous cannons and five lasers.
This is my first Commander's Log from the bridge. The voice of Penelope, the ship's computer, echoes around it, it's that large.
Of course, a ship this size and age invariably has vermin. I last spotted Margot delightedly hurtling down one of the labyrinthine corridors below, on the scent of something. I think she likes it here.
Now we're at peace, I'm familiarising myself with the local shipping lanes. De Lay Terminal seems to be a central trading hub for Imperial slaves and I'm making some credits shipping them out. Rather a lot of credits, in fact.
It's peaceful work after all the fighting. Peaceful and refreshingly... legal.