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Hunter's Respite [Part 1]
So, As I said in the preview version of this story, "Hunter's Respite" is going to be a small series of 2.5k-ish word stores that will detail how certain things in my universe works.
This part is a setup for future parts, as most "Part 1"s tend to be, And shows how I am likely going to be doing these stories. As for what's in store for this part, it involves our main character, Fuxy Pholis Fulamose, winding down after a short but incredibly stressful mission, one way above the pay grade of the mission. As he winds down, he decides that maybe he'll need a small break, and since the closest mission turn in point is his home station, it's the perfect opportunity.
Future parts of this series, and other stories, can be found early on my Patreon for the minimum 2$ role at [ https://www.patreon.com/ManualControl ]
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-=[Location: Culot Sector, Inside Hyperlane to the Stirs System]=-
-=[Time until Arrival: 41 Hours Galactic Standard Time]=-
-=[Date: 42,029, 3rd GYC / March 14th, 3593 AD]=-
Particles zoomed past the windows. Reds, Blues, Purples, Greens, a rainbow of colours parading through the Command Center of the Patrol Craft as light from the Hyperlane walls flowed in. It was almost deathly quiet inside, the only sounds coming from automated devices attached to what would normally be manned by a crew of seven. The captain of this vessel was nowhere to be seen, having left the bridge hours ago after turning on the Autopilot, unneeded until the ship was out of the Hyperlane.
Instead the Captain, the only crew member on the craft, was down in the Hanger Bay, where the hissing, whining, and popping of an Arc-Welder could be heard. The small 101cm Elion Fox was hard at work making repairs on his modified Shuttlecraft. It's faded yellow paint now adorned with newer, cleaner Durasteel armour plates that covered up holes where needed. His recent mission was much harder then he was led to believe, and though he somehow succeeded, it still rightfully irritated the fox as he slapped another Durasteel plate over yet another hole and started to weld.
"If I hadn't installed the shielding last month," He thought out loud, solemnly. "I don't think I would have made it... Damn Sec-Forces. They never seem to know what to label their missions." The Arc-Welder fizzled as he finished welding the last plate, it's tip slowly cooling from white hot as he placed it into its holder. The shuttle would require actual repairs once he docked with the nearest station, but his patch job would work until then. "That was clearly a Class Sixteen mission, But whichever numbnuts was in charge labeled it a Class Nine! Mother fuckers had Weapon Platforms around their station!" He shouted to no one, his ship devoid of any life besides his own as he reflected on his mission more.
====
The fox would have liked to say he handled the situation like the expert he was, his modified Shuttle more than a match for any slapped together Junker Fighters. That his skill at improv, quick wit, and reaction time were on full display during the battle. That his expertise in piloting was the deciding factor in his survival inside that forsaken asteroid field... He would like to say that, but the recording from the shuttle's cockpit would tell the real story in an instant. And it wasn't a flattering story...
In reality, once the fox had seen the weapons platforms, he immediately panicked and almost slammed immediately into one of the larger rocks floating around due to seizing up. After that, the entire operation was a complete clusterfuck. He was detected quickly, his ship's P.A.I.P. constantly blaring about getting scanned and detecting dozens of missiles locking on. He damn near launched all of his counter-measures immediately just to avoid the missiles. Luckily once their fighters got close they were unable to keep firing, most likely out of fear of hitting their own pilots.
The fox's hands were a blur at the controls doing everything he could to defend himself from the hail of bullets, lasers, and plasma, from boosting his shields to focusing down the most dangerous of the fighters. He was so, as he would later describe, "In the zone" that he almost missed the only thing that mattered over everything. With a shrill, digital chirp, the HUD of his cockpit flashed green.
The contract was complete. He was able to successfully eliminate his target during the battle, and his ship's P.A.I.P. was able to confirm it. Now he just had to get out of this fuzzball of a dogfight alive.
"[WARNING: SHIELDS FAILING]"
His fur bristled as the sound of the shields powering down rang through the haze, while plasma and steel knocked on the outside of his ship. He had to get out now and fast, or else those rounds would get inside soon. With panicked yips and yelps, he hastily punched in the location of his main ship, the impacting rounds threatening to punch through and burst his ship open like a soda can.
With a slam of his fist into a multitude of buttons his cruise engines kicked to life and quickly got him out of dodge, and by the time the pilots he was dog-fighting realized, he was long gone. With ragged pants and the sound of a shaking chair echoing in the shuttle, the fox leaned back in his cockpit as his autopilot handled his trip back to his patrol ship, which would have been much better suited for that fight. The only reason he didn't take it was because the debris field the damn Junkers set up shop in was too dense for the former cargo ship.
But that wasn't on his mind at the moment. Right now he was more focused on not having a heart attack as he tried to calm himself, the stress and the aftershocks surviving a battle he should have had no chance of winning still being fueled by the same adrenaline that kept him alive in all that. If his Blackbox wasn't recording the cockpit, he was certain he would have bawled like a child. In fact, That was the closest he's ever been to death since that shuttle crash when he was a child. But he didn't want to think about that right now, or ever. All he wanted was to get into his bed and curl up for a bit to ease his nerves.
And once he saw the Patriot, His beautiful faded green and blue home among the stars, he went straight for the small hanger bay. It felt wonderful to be back in the strong gravity of the Patriot again, His boots clacking against the metal floors as he rounded off his checklist for what to do now. His first order of business was to head up into the Bridge and set in the destination for the nearest Bounty Hunting office... Which was three thousand lightyears away in his Home Station of Thermopylae, orbiting around the Republic Capital of Elysium.
It had been a long while since he was back home, the Bounty Hunting gig being one of near constant travel, Bouncing from station to station as he got his missions. But now he'd be seeing a lot of familiar faces again, most of which he would be glad to see. And some that he would rather keep out of sight from. But either way he was excited. He hadn't seen his parents in a long while, and he was sure if they saw the ship he had now, they would be so proud of him.
It didn’t take him too long to walk to the bridge, since this ship was originally a cargo ship at heart. There weren’t many winding halls or redundant bulkheads to contend with, and the ship wasn’t all that large to begin with, being only half the size of a Corvette and able to be crewed with just ten people. Though even that wasn’t required as he entered the bridge, machines taking the place of crew, meaning he had the ship all to himself. Which also meant as a bonus that he didn’t have the pressure of his ideas directly killing people other than him if they ever went wrong.
That did however bring about a sense of isolation, the cold echoes of machinery the only company he had. It would likely be maddening to anyone that was born planetside, or those too used to crewing Transports, The hissing and creaks almost sounding like spirits to the uninitiated. But that was something the fox had gotten long past, having been at this for years now. Though that didn’t stop him from wanting company other than the ‘spirits’ within his craft.
Thankfully for him, he wasn’t usually far from the planets or the Freeports, which meant that he was usually never long in his self-imposed isolation. It was a comforting thought as he plotted a course for Stirs System, the action not taking long as the ship’s P.A.I.P did the heavy lifting, doing calculations that would take hours in just a fraction of a second. Meanwhile he clambered onto the much too large Captain’s Chair, Never built for the small size of Elions, wanting to just sit down in the comfy seat for a while and go over what he would need to do after exiting the Hyperlane.
“Okay… First, I turn in the bounty. They should already know I took them out by now, but I’ll still need to confirm it with them.” He flinched slightly as his voice echoed off the walls of the relatively quiet room. Flinching at his own voice wasn’t a good sign of his mental health. Maybe it’s been too long since he actually interacted with other people. “Second… Talk to someone. Can’t fall to Space Madness.”
He continued to list things off to himself as he idly spoke, talk of resupply and potential upgrades ricocheting in the room. But soon, with a lurch forward and the sound of the Hyperdrive spooling up, the fox retired to his bed and let the autopilot once again do the work, his ship hitting faster than light in a mere minute. It was going to feel like a short trip.
====
It had been just about two days after his almost disastrous mission, the ship just about ready to exit Hyperspace. After the time he spent repairing the shuttle and a full day's rest, The fox was ready again to take on the galaxy. He took a moment to stretch in his Captain’s Chair as the Hyperlane Walls started to fade, his ship appearing once again in Realspace, the sounds of the FTL Rupture echoing inside his ship like a cannon.
It took him a long while at the start of his bounty hunting career to get used to sounds like that. For the longest time he had never once left the Orbital Shipyard, Thermopylae, as he grew up on it. To leave such a station used to be a sign of madness for him, for it had everything he could ever need, including his family.
But that was a story for another time, He was back for now and even if it was for only a few days, He would spend it wisely. So now that he was in the system, he knew what his first step would need to be. Without even a conscious thought, his right hand was already takking away on the armrest of his chair, the Holo-Comms screen popping down in front of him as he made a call.
The UI of the screen faded to life as windows and information started to trickle through, Most of it useless information such as connection rates. What he was really paying attention too was the lens of the camera and the small icon telling him if whoever he was calling picked up or not. And that little icon was staring him down, unchanging for the longest time as he began to worry. Did he dial the wrong number? Had they moved somewhere else and couldn’t tell him?
Nervousness started to weigh on him as he idly fidgeted in his seat. It usually never took this long for them to answer when he called. Did they not recognize the number from his ship? Maybe he should have called from the shuttle to make sure that-
The questions stopped as a small digital chime sounded out, The icon changing to show that the connection was accepted and they were about to answer. The fox let out a sigh of relief seeing the name scrolling at the top of the screen.
“Thovia & Misa Fulamose”
A split second of static filled the screen as the video feed faded in, showing the heads of two other Elions. The first, a female, had pale orange-white fur, Eyes as blue & full of fire as a Type-B Star, And the face of a Pixie perfectly melded with that of a Vulpine. Her smile was brighter than a Pulsar when she saw who was calling, her eyes shining with recognition.
The other was male and seemed to have everything contrast her. His dark almost Crimson fur, His face bulkier than a Main-Line Cruiser, Eyes an orange of dull amber. His face was pock-marked with scars and indents free of fur, an ear having the tip torn off leaving a jagged ridge of scar tissue in its place. It was clear that he was happy as well at seeing the caller, Even if he did look much more reserved. Just as clear was that his face told a story, One of such hardship that the mere fact he could still smile at all showed his resilience. He’d likely outlive all his enemies out of spite more than anything if he had any say.
“Fuxy! Oh it’s so good to see you again, We were getting worried!” She said, The sound of several servos whining as she sat up straighter, likely an attempt to not look as tired as she felt.
“And I see you got some snazzy looking ship now, eh? The screen says you’re calling from a ‘Privateer-Class’. Sounds like something that needs a crew, So who you got with you? Any women in there? A great stud like you must have-” There was the sudden whirring of motors as a mechanical hand slapped the male in the back of his head, causing him to wince as his hand nurtured and rubbed what was likely to become a bruise. “Ow! Misa, you gotta remember you hit a lot harder now!”
“Oh I’m sorry, Thovia, But you know you’re not supposed to ask that. Maybe next time you’ll remember.” Thovia rolled his eyes with a smirk, knowing full well she would have asked the same thing… Even if it would be in a far less cruder way.
“Hey Ma, Hey Dad.” He greeted them with a slight chuckle. His father was tough, So he knew it wasn’t a big deal. “So um... I guess from those sounds, That surgery went okay?”
His parents’ faces almost immediately grew a tad darker, But they still tried to look upbeat. His mother held up one of the new arms she was now equipped with, the skeletal appendage a mix of Durasteel, Graphene-Rubber compounds, and various types of polycarbonates. The palm and fingertips had pads on them, small bumps meant to send signals to her brain, that let her retain the ability to feel… But she could tell it wasn’t the same.
“Yeah… There were some complications but they were able to stop the necrosis before it was untreatable. They did need to remove more than they expected though.” Her eyes almost seemed to go a tad dimmer as she explained the situation. “Turns out that it spread to other areas in the time they took to prepare everything.”
“O-Oh…” Fuxy uttered quietly, His ears folding back somewhat as he heard the news. “How bad was it?” There was this feeling of guilt gnawing at him. He should have been here, or at least closer then he was, in case something had gone wrong. He couldn’t see the extent of her new cybernetics, but he was prepared for almost anything.
“I would… Rather you saw for yourself. Will you be visiting, By the way?” She asked quickly, Trying to drag the conversation away from the impending somberness.
“Oh yeah, About that…” He understood the attempt immediately. “I’ll be docking to our station soon. Got a bounty to turn in and I think I’ll be taking a mental health vacation. Mind if I stay with you guys during it?”
====
[TO BE CONTINUED]
Category Story / All
Species Fox (Other)
Size 120 x 120px
File Size 69.4 kB
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