Post by Souvarine on Jan 14, 2016 18:19:57 GMT
Phineas Hector Souvarine was not his father's idea of a model Imperial citizen.
The Souvarines were the sort of middling, quietly noble Imperial dynasty that the Empire was built upon. From the lower ranks of parochial aristocracy on a forgettable world in the frontier between Empire and Federation space, for generations the men had served in the Imperial Navy while the women presided over their coterie of slaves and well turned-out children. They were a jostling, testosterone-fueled family - raised to compete, play sports and do their duty in the Navy. Viscount Souvarine expected his son to follow this admirable path, and was sadly disappointed.
Phineas was weedy from birth. Sallow-skinned, raven-haired and scrawny, as a child he preferred reading to rugby and stargazing to shooting. His father couldn't understand it. After being suspended from the Academy for the sixth time, having been found in the woods reading Balzac during Games, his parents began to consider him something of an embarrassment.
That was when the war broke out.
"Bloody Communists", Viscount Aenas would spit (the young Souvarine always thought his father's name sounded like 'anus'). The civil war swept their little planet up as it washed across the system, and modest wealth that had been built up over eight generations was suddenly gone in an instant. Ships began leaving. Requisitioned passenger liners and mercantile barges would sail off into the night, packed with families Souvarine had known all his life. When the soldiers came to their town, they too left. Souvarine was seventeen.
He didn't remember much of that time. On hindsight, it was probably days that they spent in space, cramped and humiliated. At times it felt like minutes and at others it felt like months. They would dock, wait, be told that they were disembarking, wait some more, then all of a sudden they were leaving again. There wasn't enough food or quarters, so strangers from the same town found themselves huddled under blankets in the partial twilight of the ship's hold. Nobody remembered his father's rank here.
There was a pirate attack. Souvarine remembered fires, shouting and the smell of panic. They were boarded at some point. Apparently it was a battle - a mix of pirates, human smugglers, system police and private bounty hunters. He didn't know this at the time, of course. When the shooting eventually stopped their ship was listing, badly, and his family were gone.
The passenger liner eventually docked somewhere in Federation space. A shivering Souvarine was questioned by Fed pen-pushers under cold lights, then herded with other wild-eyed refugees into some kind of hangar to sleep. That night, he decided to escape.
He stole a Sidewinder. Incredibly, the station's automated system let him fly straight out of there. As he shot out of the letterbox he glanced gleefully back at the shrinking letters of 'Trevithick Dock' - he was free!
It turned out that the ship Souvarine stole that night belonged to a renowned former slave and bounty hunter known as Dexter Vex, who quickly tracked him down. Seemingly more amazed than angry at his recklessness, they struck up an improbable friendship. Vex let Souvarine keep the Sidewinder and in the months that followed the bounty hunter taught Souvarine how to fight. After all, he already knew how to run.
What then? It wasn't like he had anywhere to go. There was money to be made, for those who kept their heads down and weren't afraid of a little moral ambiguity.
After that... the stars beckoned.
The Souvarines were the sort of middling, quietly noble Imperial dynasty that the Empire was built upon. From the lower ranks of parochial aristocracy on a forgettable world in the frontier between Empire and Federation space, for generations the men had served in the Imperial Navy while the women presided over their coterie of slaves and well turned-out children. They were a jostling, testosterone-fueled family - raised to compete, play sports and do their duty in the Navy. Viscount Souvarine expected his son to follow this admirable path, and was sadly disappointed.
Phineas was weedy from birth. Sallow-skinned, raven-haired and scrawny, as a child he preferred reading to rugby and stargazing to shooting. His father couldn't understand it. After being suspended from the Academy for the sixth time, having been found in the woods reading Balzac during Games, his parents began to consider him something of an embarrassment.
That was when the war broke out.
"Bloody Communists", Viscount Aenas would spit (the young Souvarine always thought his father's name sounded like 'anus'). The civil war swept their little planet up as it washed across the system, and modest wealth that had been built up over eight generations was suddenly gone in an instant. Ships began leaving. Requisitioned passenger liners and mercantile barges would sail off into the night, packed with families Souvarine had known all his life. When the soldiers came to their town, they too left. Souvarine was seventeen.
He didn't remember much of that time. On hindsight, it was probably days that they spent in space, cramped and humiliated. At times it felt like minutes and at others it felt like months. They would dock, wait, be told that they were disembarking, wait some more, then all of a sudden they were leaving again. There wasn't enough food or quarters, so strangers from the same town found themselves huddled under blankets in the partial twilight of the ship's hold. Nobody remembered his father's rank here.
There was a pirate attack. Souvarine remembered fires, shouting and the smell of panic. They were boarded at some point. Apparently it was a battle - a mix of pirates, human smugglers, system police and private bounty hunters. He didn't know this at the time, of course. When the shooting eventually stopped their ship was listing, badly, and his family were gone.
The passenger liner eventually docked somewhere in Federation space. A shivering Souvarine was questioned by Fed pen-pushers under cold lights, then herded with other wild-eyed refugees into some kind of hangar to sleep. That night, he decided to escape.
He stole a Sidewinder. Incredibly, the station's automated system let him fly straight out of there. As he shot out of the letterbox he glanced gleefully back at the shrinking letters of 'Trevithick Dock' - he was free!
It turned out that the ship Souvarine stole that night belonged to a renowned former slave and bounty hunter known as Dexter Vex, who quickly tracked him down. Seemingly more amazed than angry at his recklessness, they struck up an improbable friendship. Vex let Souvarine keep the Sidewinder and in the months that followed the bounty hunter taught Souvarine how to fight. After all, he already knew how to run.
What then? It wasn't like he had anywhere to go. There was money to be made, for those who kept their heads down and weren't afraid of a little moral ambiguity.
After that... the stars beckoned.