Wrote this a couple years back about a character of mine for an on-line game. It's a bit long, so I'll post it in parts. The places, vehicles, and organizations are specific for the game (Freelancer), I apologize if they get confusing.
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“Hey there, Trip. Long
time no see; I hope your run to Kusari was good. What will it be?”
“Hey Dave, I’ll have the usual.”
Tripper sat down at the bar stool. His overalls were dirty and smelled like
they hadn’t been taken off in a week.
His short dark hair was sticking in every direction possible. He let out a heavy sigh as he rubbed between
his eyes, trying to work out the furrow he’s been wearing ever since he got
back to Erie.
The bar tender set three warm beers and a glass down and popped
the lids off. He took a long look at Tripper.
“You look like crap Trip. Is your
old rhino giving you more problems?”
“Nah,” Tripper said “finally sold her.”
“Really?” Dave pulled
out a rag and started to wipe the polished wood of the bar. “You’ve been running
in that ship for ten years now. What
made you get rid of her?”
Tripper poured beer from the first bottle, not wanting to
talk about it. He has been running cargo
across Liberty for most of his adult life in the same ship; the old rhino that
his father gave to him when he went out on his own. It was far from fancy, but worked well enough
for what he ran. He spent most his time
running helium and ship parts and the old ship did just fine. It had just enough cargo space to make a
buck, and armed enough to keep bored Rouges and Xenos off his back. Every once in a while, he would use it to
take a trip over to Holman Outpost in Tau-31 to visit his retired parents.
A short while ago, he
caught a big break. Tripper came across
the right cargo, and the right tip, for a run up to Okinawa. He figured it out, and with just two stops,
he would make his first million credits on a single run. The trip to the Fujisawa Mining Facility was
uneventful, but the excitement level was almost unbearable, He was able to
squeeze in more profit with some additional runs on the way. Once he got to Fujisawa, he bought a Garanchou and
had close to a million credits left over. He finally was able to move up. A nicer ship with leather seats, better
armaments, and more cargo room meant more profit.
The
excitement was short lived though. On
the trip back to familiar space, he met up with some big time pirates. They took almost half his fortune for a
“tribute,” and he got in some squabbles at the border. After repairs and losses, his take home was a
brand new, shot up ship, and about $300,000.
That was five Erie days ago, he has been in the hanger, fixing his ship
ever since.
Tripper shrugged
at Dave. “I don’t know, seemed like a
good move.” He sat at the bar for a
couple of minutes while Dave went to help another customer. When he came back, the bar tender looked at
Tripper again and said: “So you got a better ship. Things are looking up for you. But you still come in here just as depressed
and alone as you ever have. What’s on
your mind?”
Tripper
looked up at Dave, “This place is falling apart. I’m not talking about your bar, or even
Erie. I’m talking Sirius. Every direction you fly is War, and where war
isn’t, pirates are. Everywhere you go,
whether it be home or on a run, people are shooting at each other, thinking
their guns prove who’s right, or trying to step on honest men just trying to
make a living and support a family.”
Dave’s
eyebrows jump up. “You got married?!”
“No! No, Dave.
That’s not the point. Pirates are
out there taking my hard earned money, and the governments in Sirius are too
busy shooting at each other to do something about it. All the while, it’s the little people, me,
you, who are getting robbed, shot, and put aside. Someone needs to do something.”
Dave started
to look worried. “Uhh. . How many beers
have you had?”
“Not
enough. I don’t know, Dave. It’s hard making a living. I don’t know what to do.”
“You could
join the military, or the Police. Work
for them and you’ll be able to do something about pirates.”
Tipper’s eyes
rolled. “Yeah, or get sent to the front
lines and let Rheinlanders poke
holes in my government issued ship and get sucked out into space. Plus they might not want some run down cargo
hauler like me anyway.”
The prospect
of joining the military scared tripper.
He grew up on his dad’s cargo ship, constantly going system to
system. He was born in Cambridge, on the
Cardiff Mining Facility, but didn’t stay there long. His family was always moving, never settled
down for more than a couple weeks. When
he was sixteen, he overheard his father talking on the communications. It sounded shady, and he never questioned his
father about what he heard. After that,
he noticed his father’s actions, and the people he worked with were off. They were hiding something, but Tripper never
found out what, he didn’t want to. If
his father didn’t want the family involved, then the family shouldn’t get
involved, to this day, Tripper still doesn’t know what his father was up to, or
even if it was legit.
Whatever it
was, it seems his father is not doing it anymore. He has been on Holman for about fifteen years
and no longer does any mining or cargo runs.
The chance that his dad was doing something illegal has made Tripper
stay away from any authorities. It’s not
that he doesn’t like them; on the contrary, some Liberty police have gotten him
out of some tight situations while mining, but he doesn’t want some background
check uncovering something that might be better left hidden.
“No Dave, I don’t think the military is the answer. I don’t know about the Police, I just don’t
see myself as a cop. What I do know, is
something needs to change.”
“Well Trip, when you find it, I wish the best to you. Just promise me you’ll run back here every
once in a while. I’ll miss your whining
if you left.”
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