Black-Mark Days

His finger hovered over the local channel button and wavered.  Rixx thought about how hard it was for a soldier to break habits that had been drilled into him since he first got into his pod.  Talking in local was strictly verboten in just about every fleet he had ever been in while in zero, for good reason.  Nothing good came from smack-talk or idle chatter, no end game, no winners.  At best it made you feel better but, at worst, it gave away valuable information or advantage.  Silence is golden, it makes your enemy wonder, worry and fret.  But goddamn it, he'd had a bad goddamn day!

It all started with supplies.  Rixx chuckled to himself, so many of his bad days circled around moving or buying supplies.  When would they finish that transporter device the egg-heads kept talking about in Station?  Probably never and until then the soldier's life revolved around being supplied.  He guessed it always had and always would.  The final certification tests would be tomorrow for flying the Sabre and he wanted to be ready, he could already fly the ship itself, he just couldn't mount the Interdiction Sphere Launcher yet.  Scotty wouldn't be bought off, he knew that and he'd tried several times to sneak the fitting by the Station Security.  But their scanners were true, even down here in this god forsaken wilderness.

So he'd bought the supplies he needed from several surrounding systems and undocked in his paper thin Manticore.  He hated and loved the ship.  Hated it for all the times it had failed him and loved it for the simple elegance of massive destruction, behind almost c-thru walls.  He swore he could hear the whistle of space as he warped into the first system.  Only one Neutral in local, system was clear and when he docked he could see from the registry that the Neutral was also docked up.  He quickly loaded his supplies and undocked.  The Neutral undocked at the same time in his Cerberus.  Rixx didn't worry much, he hardened up the meager shields and started up the warp engines.  Despite three volleys from the Cerb the Manti played true and escaped.

The next system seemed eerily familiar, one Neutral in local docked up in the Station.  Rixx hurriedly loaded his cargo and undocked.  And once again the Neutral undocked with him, this time slightly ahead of him.  Blast the luck!  He knew from the beginning that this Thrasher wouldn't be as easy to escape as the Cerb had been.  His fingers flew over the familiar controls, but he could already hear the Autocannon rounds pinging off the hull, the only real choice at this point was to save his Pod.  Waking up in Empire he realized this was going to be one of those days.

So when the Cyclone escaped his Dramiel by de-aggressing and jumping thru the Gate, he started to really get pissed off.  It only got worse when the Noob pilot stayed in the next door system and kept talking shit in local.  Even the most hardened soldier can only take so much.  So he punched the damn button and responded.  This wasn't his first time around the block and he managed to get some good digs in.  The Cyclone may have been a newer pilot, but someone more experienced was pulling his strings.

The call from Ana on the sub-space line meant he had to head back to Station empty-handed.  For today.  Tomorrow is always a new day and he'd learned long ago that tomorrow would belong to him.  Why?  Because he never gave up, he always came back and really?  No one could stop him.

[ It was a frustrating day for pilots of Black-Mark, despite some good wins here and there, we had some nasty strange weird losses as well.  Such is the way of our new home we are quickly learning.  We are slowly becoming Blue to our neighbors and our influence in the neighborhood and our friends are growing every day.  This is an exciting place not for the faint of heart, but we are building something here.  Something strong.  We continue to look for a few good pilots and Corps to help us do it.  Join us on BLACK-MARK PUB and talk about your future with us.  Good fights every day. ]