Post by Kelvin Zero on Dec 12, 2010 1:12:45 GMT -5
The Vow I made was broken
I have brought dishonor upon my name
As a reminder I will bear this token
I will forever wear the Mask of Shame
Captain Shaft
Mask of Shame Part Two: Matthew Meets his Crewmates
“Hey, kid! Snap to it!” the Steward’s Assistant was holding out a ladle towards Matthew. Matthew woke out of his reverie and held out his tray. The Assistant dropped a sticky white glop onto it, followed by a similar yellow and brown glops. Ushered along, Matthew found a milk pouch and looked for a place to sit.
The mess hall of the Vae Victus was crowded with fellow crewmen chatting together and readying themselves for their daily tasks. One table had a spot left and he approached that one. Two men and two women sat there shoveling their multicolored meals into their mouths, only paying attention to their own hunger.
“Private Matthew greeting and asking permission to sit down, sirs!” Matthew saluted the diners. The greeting broke their attention to their meal and the four looked at the new person. One, then the others started laughing.
“Oh, wow. You ARE new!” a woman with short cropped auburn hair exclaimed. “First, this isn’t the Army, this is a privately owned ship. Second, you aren’t a Private, you are classified as a Seaman Apprentice. Brutus, stop laughing whenever I say Seaman. Your maturity is showing.” The man addressed tried his best to stifle his giggles.
“Finally, we are all equals here and you do not need to salute us. Now sit down and stop blushing.” The woman sidled over to make room for Matthew.
Chastened but relieved at finding a friendly set of crewmen, Matthew thanked them and sat down. Turning to the woman he said, “My name is Matthew, what is yours?”
“I’m Macie, the immature one is Brutus, the guy sitting to your left is 11811, and the tattooed girl is Cutter,” pointing to each in turn. “I guess you’re with the lot we picked up on Tundeedor, right?”
“Yes, I am. Um, what is this stuff we’re eating?” Matthew poked at the globs.
11811 spoke up. Bald and clean shaven he bore his number as a brand over his forehead. “It is what the Food Processors make from the Water-Fuel our ship carries. The white stuff is grits, the yellow is eggs, and the brown is pancakes. Well, at least it tastes like grits, eggs, and pancakes. Don’t turn your nose up at it, it is far better than what I had to eat back home.”
“So what did your people had to eat back home?” asked Brutus, a large brute with a crooked nose and a toothy grin.
“Each other,” stated 11811. “On the factory moon I escaped from the dead, injured, or otherwise useless were reprocessed into foodstuff. Our owners made sure we knew about it as a means of keeping us in line. Of course once the Cadar Syndicate discovered it they shut it down, executed the owners, and took the freed workers to rehabilitation camps.”
“Gee, 11811, you sent Matthew from blushing to pale with terror,” said Macie. “Are you ok, kid?”
“Um, yeah. So how did you end up on the Vae Victus?” he asked 11811.
“I missed the comfort of routine. I couldn’t get into the formal Navy because of my background but I heard about the rouge traders. Captain Shaft welcomed me aboard 6 months ago and I like it here.”
Matthew turned to look at Macie while trying out his meal. It did actually taste as promised. “How about you?”
“Oh, so now we are giving you our origin stories, kid? Do you think you are on some sort of roleplay adventure and we’re NPC’s you are going to recruit? Well, ok. Unlike our friend next to you my story is pretty plain. I’m from Rychart Prime where the unemployment rate is so high, there are more people not working than actually working. I was promised a job as an accountant after graduation only to find the position taken by a Syndicate Initiate. After bouncing around through poor paying jobs when not standing in bread lines, I saw posters about becoming crew members for rouge traders. I said, ‘Macie, it’s better than fighting for scraps’. I signed up with Captain Shaft and now I’m being paid way more than I would have with that accountant job. Of course I also have a higher chance of dying horribly but I think it’s worth it. After a few more years I’ll have enough credits to retire very comfortably.”
“Wait a minute,” said Matthew. “You’re with Syndicate Rychart on a Thulun ship?”
Brutus spoke up. “No, kid you don’t understand. Just because you are born on a planet owned by a House or a Syndicate doesn’t mean you are an actual member. Very few people have actual membership. You have to really prove yourself to even become more than a Guest. What, did you think you were a member of House Thulun just because you were born on Tundeedor?” Before Matthew could stammer back a response Brutus continued. “Even Captain Shaft is only a House Thulun member because he showed his worth to them over the years. But that doesn’t mean he is beholden to them. He can do whatever he wants and work for anyone he wants to. That is what it means to be a rogue trader.”
“Oh,” Matthew muttered. He remembered how his parents took such pride in participating in the House holidays and raising the Crimson Lion flag outside their home.
“Okay, my turn for storytime,” chimed Brutus. “I’m from Rinze, the big mining planet. I was working as a cosmetician at the funeral home. I really loved my job. The next thing I know I’m attacked and thrown in the jail for no good reason.”
“I thought it was for necrophilia,” cut in Cutter.
“I KNOW!” broke out Brutus. “I mean it’s not like I was killing anyone or eating anybody.” Brutus shook his head in disbelief. Macie, Cutter, and 11811 simply rolled their eyes skyward at his cluelessness, while Matthew stared at Brutus.
“Anyway, I find myself before a judge telling me I could either have a “behavioral chip” placed in my brain, be executed, or exiled to never return. Guess which one I chose.” He sat back, his meal finished. “I signed up with Captain Shaft and I’m just waiting to find a world I take a liking too before signing off. Your turn Cutter.”
Cutter was busy finishing off her breakfast. Her hair was shaved into a Mohawk and dyed blue. Her bald scalp was tattooed with depictions of people engaged in various comfortable and uncomfortable contortions. Like Macie she was lightly muscled from her time on the ship. “I don’t have much to say about myself. Let’s say I made some lifestyle choices that my family didn’t agree with. At least here I have no one telling me I can’t pull my own weight. I’m expected to do the best I can do. Captain Shaft is a fair captain and treats everyone properly.”
“Oh, so ‘lifestyle choices’ is what it’s called when a Princess runs away from an arranged marriage,” teased Macie.
“I am no princess!” spat out Cutter.
Macie asides to Matthew, “Everyone just loves to tease her about what her real story is. The princess storyline is the one that gets the most rise out of her. We don’t really know what the truth is but one day we’ll find out.” Cutter glowered at Macie then returned to her meal.
“So kid, you have heard ours, what is yours?” asked 11811.
Matthew paused for a bit. “Well, I’m the son of a sheepfarmer. Our family has been herding sheep for centuries on various House Thulun planets. My grandfather was born and died in the same village I was born in. My father, my uncles, my brothers, my whole family seems happy with living there and doing the same thing every day till it is their time to leave this world. I want more. I want to see other worlds, exotic places, new people, and new experiences. I figured getting on a ship as a crewman would be my change to do that.”
Macie smiled warmly at Matthew. “Well, isn’t that a great origin for a young hero. Stick with us kid. We’ll get you settled in well and soon you will know the Vae Victus like the back of your hand. Captain Shaft brought us from the Core Zone out here to the Frontier in search of fortune. It didn’t quite work out as well as he would have liked and he promised yesterday to get us all back to the Core Zone safely.”
Macie continued, “Of course that coincides with a sweet contract he picked up while on your homeworld. He picked up some passengers who House Thulun would like safely brought to Rift-Leporis 4, where they can get further transportation to some Safehome. I heard from the grapevine the contact is worth millions of Marks*, enough for everyone to make nice bonuses.”
The clock chimed the hour. Cutter stood up and said, “Come on kid, you need to get to your orientation classes. When you are done meet us in Rec room 3. We’ll fill you in on everything Third Mate Johnson forgot to tell you.”
Matthew followed his new friends to the dirty tray stand and out the mess hall door. This would be the beginning of an exciting new life.
*In my stories I inflate the value of Credits by 1000. It didn’t make sense for a Captain to betray his affiliation for thousands of credits or spend only a few hundred credits for engines, but I could see someone betraying his clan for millions of credits or needing millions of credits to buy a huge spaceship. In my mind Captains are people who spend big, live fast, and die gloriously. They don’t buy a cloak at a department store, their cloaks are made of the finest materials and costs more than what most laypeople make in a year. So one Credit according to the game equals one thousand credits in my story.
(Edited slightly in light of new background information on money.)
I have brought dishonor upon my name
As a reminder I will bear this token
I will forever wear the Mask of Shame
Captain Shaft
Mask of Shame Part Two: Matthew Meets his Crewmates
“Hey, kid! Snap to it!” the Steward’s Assistant was holding out a ladle towards Matthew. Matthew woke out of his reverie and held out his tray. The Assistant dropped a sticky white glop onto it, followed by a similar yellow and brown glops. Ushered along, Matthew found a milk pouch and looked for a place to sit.
The mess hall of the Vae Victus was crowded with fellow crewmen chatting together and readying themselves for their daily tasks. One table had a spot left and he approached that one. Two men and two women sat there shoveling their multicolored meals into their mouths, only paying attention to their own hunger.
“Private Matthew greeting and asking permission to sit down, sirs!” Matthew saluted the diners. The greeting broke their attention to their meal and the four looked at the new person. One, then the others started laughing.
“Oh, wow. You ARE new!” a woman with short cropped auburn hair exclaimed. “First, this isn’t the Army, this is a privately owned ship. Second, you aren’t a Private, you are classified as a Seaman Apprentice. Brutus, stop laughing whenever I say Seaman. Your maturity is showing.” The man addressed tried his best to stifle his giggles.
“Finally, we are all equals here and you do not need to salute us. Now sit down and stop blushing.” The woman sidled over to make room for Matthew.
Chastened but relieved at finding a friendly set of crewmen, Matthew thanked them and sat down. Turning to the woman he said, “My name is Matthew, what is yours?”
“I’m Macie, the immature one is Brutus, the guy sitting to your left is 11811, and the tattooed girl is Cutter,” pointing to each in turn. “I guess you’re with the lot we picked up on Tundeedor, right?”
“Yes, I am. Um, what is this stuff we’re eating?” Matthew poked at the globs.
11811 spoke up. Bald and clean shaven he bore his number as a brand over his forehead. “It is what the Food Processors make from the Water-Fuel our ship carries. The white stuff is grits, the yellow is eggs, and the brown is pancakes. Well, at least it tastes like grits, eggs, and pancakes. Don’t turn your nose up at it, it is far better than what I had to eat back home.”
“So what did your people had to eat back home?” asked Brutus, a large brute with a crooked nose and a toothy grin.
“Each other,” stated 11811. “On the factory moon I escaped from the dead, injured, or otherwise useless were reprocessed into foodstuff. Our owners made sure we knew about it as a means of keeping us in line. Of course once the Cadar Syndicate discovered it they shut it down, executed the owners, and took the freed workers to rehabilitation camps.”
“Gee, 11811, you sent Matthew from blushing to pale with terror,” said Macie. “Are you ok, kid?”
“Um, yeah. So how did you end up on the Vae Victus?” he asked 11811.
“I missed the comfort of routine. I couldn’t get into the formal Navy because of my background but I heard about the rouge traders. Captain Shaft welcomed me aboard 6 months ago and I like it here.”
Matthew turned to look at Macie while trying out his meal. It did actually taste as promised. “How about you?”
“Oh, so now we are giving you our origin stories, kid? Do you think you are on some sort of roleplay adventure and we’re NPC’s you are going to recruit? Well, ok. Unlike our friend next to you my story is pretty plain. I’m from Rychart Prime where the unemployment rate is so high, there are more people not working than actually working. I was promised a job as an accountant after graduation only to find the position taken by a Syndicate Initiate. After bouncing around through poor paying jobs when not standing in bread lines, I saw posters about becoming crew members for rouge traders. I said, ‘Macie, it’s better than fighting for scraps’. I signed up with Captain Shaft and now I’m being paid way more than I would have with that accountant job. Of course I also have a higher chance of dying horribly but I think it’s worth it. After a few more years I’ll have enough credits to retire very comfortably.”
“Wait a minute,” said Matthew. “You’re with Syndicate Rychart on a Thulun ship?”
Brutus spoke up. “No, kid you don’t understand. Just because you are born on a planet owned by a House or a Syndicate doesn’t mean you are an actual member. Very few people have actual membership. You have to really prove yourself to even become more than a Guest. What, did you think you were a member of House Thulun just because you were born on Tundeedor?” Before Matthew could stammer back a response Brutus continued. “Even Captain Shaft is only a House Thulun member because he showed his worth to them over the years. But that doesn’t mean he is beholden to them. He can do whatever he wants and work for anyone he wants to. That is what it means to be a rogue trader.”
“Oh,” Matthew muttered. He remembered how his parents took such pride in participating in the House holidays and raising the Crimson Lion flag outside their home.
“Okay, my turn for storytime,” chimed Brutus. “I’m from Rinze, the big mining planet. I was working as a cosmetician at the funeral home. I really loved my job. The next thing I know I’m attacked and thrown in the jail for no good reason.”
“I thought it was for necrophilia,” cut in Cutter.
“I KNOW!” broke out Brutus. “I mean it’s not like I was killing anyone or eating anybody.” Brutus shook his head in disbelief. Macie, Cutter, and 11811 simply rolled their eyes skyward at his cluelessness, while Matthew stared at Brutus.
“Anyway, I find myself before a judge telling me I could either have a “behavioral chip” placed in my brain, be executed, or exiled to never return. Guess which one I chose.” He sat back, his meal finished. “I signed up with Captain Shaft and I’m just waiting to find a world I take a liking too before signing off. Your turn Cutter.”
Cutter was busy finishing off her breakfast. Her hair was shaved into a Mohawk and dyed blue. Her bald scalp was tattooed with depictions of people engaged in various comfortable and uncomfortable contortions. Like Macie she was lightly muscled from her time on the ship. “I don’t have much to say about myself. Let’s say I made some lifestyle choices that my family didn’t agree with. At least here I have no one telling me I can’t pull my own weight. I’m expected to do the best I can do. Captain Shaft is a fair captain and treats everyone properly.”
“Oh, so ‘lifestyle choices’ is what it’s called when a Princess runs away from an arranged marriage,” teased Macie.
“I am no princess!” spat out Cutter.
Macie asides to Matthew, “Everyone just loves to tease her about what her real story is. The princess storyline is the one that gets the most rise out of her. We don’t really know what the truth is but one day we’ll find out.” Cutter glowered at Macie then returned to her meal.
“So kid, you have heard ours, what is yours?” asked 11811.
Matthew paused for a bit. “Well, I’m the son of a sheepfarmer. Our family has been herding sheep for centuries on various House Thulun planets. My grandfather was born and died in the same village I was born in. My father, my uncles, my brothers, my whole family seems happy with living there and doing the same thing every day till it is their time to leave this world. I want more. I want to see other worlds, exotic places, new people, and new experiences. I figured getting on a ship as a crewman would be my change to do that.”
Macie smiled warmly at Matthew. “Well, isn’t that a great origin for a young hero. Stick with us kid. We’ll get you settled in well and soon you will know the Vae Victus like the back of your hand. Captain Shaft brought us from the Core Zone out here to the Frontier in search of fortune. It didn’t quite work out as well as he would have liked and he promised yesterday to get us all back to the Core Zone safely.”
Macie continued, “Of course that coincides with a sweet contract he picked up while on your homeworld. He picked up some passengers who House Thulun would like safely brought to Rift-Leporis 4, where they can get further transportation to some Safehome. I heard from the grapevine the contact is worth millions of Marks*, enough for everyone to make nice bonuses.”
The clock chimed the hour. Cutter stood up and said, “Come on kid, you need to get to your orientation classes. When you are done meet us in Rec room 3. We’ll fill you in on everything Third Mate Johnson forgot to tell you.”
Matthew followed his new friends to the dirty tray stand and out the mess hall door. This would be the beginning of an exciting new life.
*In my stories I inflate the value of Credits by 1000. It didn’t make sense for a Captain to betray his affiliation for thousands of credits or spend only a few hundred credits for engines, but I could see someone betraying his clan for millions of credits or needing millions of credits to buy a huge spaceship. In my mind Captains are people who spend big, live fast, and die gloriously. They don’t buy a cloak at a department store, their cloaks are made of the finest materials and costs more than what most laypeople make in a year. So one Credit according to the game equals one thousand credits in my story.
(Edited slightly in light of new background information on money.)
