Mon Aug 06, 2012 6:39 am by Sarius, The Mad Fisherman
*It had been months, year maybe, since Sarius had begun saving his pennies to buy transportation off world.* *He wasn't really good at keeping track of time.* *Eventually though, he had enough for a ship, albeit a small rusty shell of a ship. The Chiss handed his credits off to the used-wares merchant and slipped into the patched up canopy of an old Z-95 Headhunter.* *Only one of the cannons worked, but that hardly mattered. He wasn't planning on chasing down any space pirates.*
*This latest move was inspired by his returning dreams, the same insidious nightmare that plagued him over and over again. Somewhere among the horror, he had found an anchor, a piece of sanity and logic to hold onto. That anchor took the form of a set of digits. Only after asking around the fishing villages pub had he managed to determine that the digits were actually coordinates for a navicomputer.*
*Sitting there in the cockpit of the banged up fighter somehow felt right. Different, but right.* *He couldn't quite place it. To his knowledge he had never flown before, yet he could name every piece of equipment and knew which buttons did what. It was a clue. An answer even to the gaps in his memory. He had flown before.* *Taking the steering yoke in hand, Sarius ran through the take off preparations and soon found his little starfighter airborne. The engine coughed and sputtered, eliciting a sharp curse from the fisherman, but eventually it evened out. Within a short time he broke the atmospheric barrier of Sernpidal and shot into the cold reaches of space.*