Post by Silumas on Oct 24, 2014 22:54:55 GMT -5
There was a reason it was called The Black. Endless, dark nothing in every direction for millions and millions of miles. An endless calm, serene in the mystery of what lay within the depths of its soul. Space was amazing, beautiful, and dangerous. In fact, space very much resembled the perfect woman, at least in Captain Dominick Traeger’s mind. Dom, as his friends called him, was already a veteran of the rebellion that the Browncoats were fighting, the Unification War it was being called at home. You see, Captain Traeger was wounded flying vanguard in the Battle of Sturges. He was given command of one of the first Alliance Fast Attack Ships, or a “Shinigami” as they were known to the Browncoats.
Shinigami were the latest and greatest the Alliance were using in an attempt to bring the war back to the Browncoats. The outworlders had fell upon the luck of discovering a quick, cheap upgrade to the Firefly Series 3 that made them excellent gunboats against the Alliance. This had led to them taking space superiority over the Alliance. Shinigami were designed to hunt those gunboats. They looked like manta ray, with wide sweeping wings, their two front cannons capable of ripping the Firefly apart. They flew in squadrons of three, often referred to as a wolf pack. Dom had lead one of those wolf packs, his crew in that battle took down three gunboats before it was crippled by a quartet of well-placed strikes on the bow. His entire crew had died, and Dom had spent almost fourty-five seconds in pure vacuum before being pulled out by an Alliance frigate.
Dom was closer to six feet than five, and very lean. His olive skin kept its youth despite the fact he was now approaching the dreaded middle age. His black hair was slicked back, but would hang below his ears if he did not keep up with it. While on ship he usually wore something very similar: a heavy, urban camouflage colored fabric pants, with a tight-fitted t shirt of varying color. Thick leathered black boots covered his feet, and his old dog tags hung from his neck, though he had long since taken a thick blade to any information ruining it for later use. A large-caliber pistol was always strapped to his right hip, with a long, thick knife strapped to his left.
He had been a model Alliance officer, on the track to become Admiral, but when he lost his ship it was determined to be due to a command error, leading him to being formally discharged and disgraced. Dom, of course, disagreed with that decision and immediately used his savings to purchase himself a Firefly Series 3. He had named her Redemption, part of his whole plan to convince the Browncoats he was ready to see the light. Honestly he was just interested in making a living and sticking it to the Alliance, and the best way to do that was siding with the Browncoats. Hell, they might even win. On his own he had limped her from port to port until finally reaching Jingyin, where he had finally managed to pick himself a new crew.
This new crew was still unfamiliar to Dom, considering the state his ship had been when he picked them up, he was willing to take on just about anyone. He had also run into a little bit of trouble with the local law, considering their new cargo they had just picked up: two dozen loads of meds headed to the front lines for the Browncoats. It was Dom’s first real job as a smuggler, which is what he called himself now. Hell, if the Alliance didn’t want him and his considerable talents, he would take them to the Browncoats.
Of course, there was his whole notoriety as one of the most lethal ASAF commanders, and it was possible that would cause him some consternation. Looks like he would just have to find out. Right now he was heading to the mess where he had called his crew together for a meeting. It had been thirty-six hours since lift-off from Jingyin, and it was high-time he got to know the rest of his crew.
Dom was closer to six feet than five, and very lean. His olive skin kept its youth despite the fact he was now approaching the dreaded middle age. His black hair was slicked back, but would hang below his ears if he did not keep up with it. While on ship he usually wore something very similar: a heavy, urban camouflage colored fabric pants, with a tight-fitted t shirt of varying color. Thick leathered black boots covered his feet, and his old dog tags hung from his neck, though he had long since taken a thick blade to any information ruining it for later use. A large-caliber pistol was always strapped to his right hip, with a long, thick knife strapped to his left.
He had been a model Alliance officer, on the track to become Admiral, but when he lost his ship it was determined to be due to a command error, leading him to being formally discharged and disgraced. Dom, of course, disagreed with that decision and immediately used his savings to purchase himself a Firefly Series 3. On his own he had limped her from port to port until finally reaching Jingyin, where he had finally managed to pick himself a new crew.
This new crew was still unfamiliar to Dom, considering the state his ship had been when he picked them up, he was willing to take on just about anyone. He had also run into a little bit of trouble with the local law, considering their new cargo they had just picked up: two dozen loads of meds headed to the front lines for the Browncoats. It was Dom’s first real job as a smuggler, which is what he called himself now. Hell, if the Alliance didn’t want him and his considerable talents, he would take them to the Browncoats.
Of course, there was his whole notoriety as one of the most lethal ASAF commanders, and it was possible that would cause him some consternation. Looks like he would just have to find out. Right now he was heading to the mess where he had called his crew together for a meeting. It had been thirty-six hours since lift-off from Jingyin, and it was high-time he got to know the rest of his crew.
Shinigami were the latest and greatest the Alliance were using in an attempt to bring the war back to the Browncoats. The outworlders had fell upon the luck of discovering a quick, cheap upgrade to the Firefly Series 3 that made them excellent gunboats against the Alliance. This had led to them taking space superiority over the Alliance. Shinigami were designed to hunt those gunboats. They looked like manta ray, with wide sweeping wings, their two front cannons capable of ripping the Firefly apart. They flew in squadrons of three, often referred to as a wolf pack. Dom had lead one of those wolf packs, his crew in that battle took down three gunboats before it was crippled by a quartet of well-placed strikes on the bow. His entire crew had died, and Dom had spent almost fourty-five seconds in pure vacuum before being pulled out by an Alliance frigate.
Dom was closer to six feet than five, and very lean. His olive skin kept its youth despite the fact he was now approaching the dreaded middle age. His black hair was slicked back, but would hang below his ears if he did not keep up with it. While on ship he usually wore something very similar: a heavy, urban camouflage colored fabric pants, with a tight-fitted t shirt of varying color. Thick leathered black boots covered his feet, and his old dog tags hung from his neck, though he had long since taken a thick blade to any information ruining it for later use. A large-caliber pistol was always strapped to his right hip, with a long, thick knife strapped to his left.
He had been a model Alliance officer, on the track to become Admiral, but when he lost his ship it was determined to be due to a command error, leading him to being formally discharged and disgraced. Dom, of course, disagreed with that decision and immediately used his savings to purchase himself a Firefly Series 3. He had named her Redemption, part of his whole plan to convince the Browncoats he was ready to see the light. Honestly he was just interested in making a living and sticking it to the Alliance, and the best way to do that was siding with the Browncoats. Hell, they might even win. On his own he had limped her from port to port until finally reaching Jingyin, where he had finally managed to pick himself a new crew.
This new crew was still unfamiliar to Dom, considering the state his ship had been when he picked them up, he was willing to take on just about anyone. He had also run into a little bit of trouble with the local law, considering their new cargo they had just picked up: two dozen loads of meds headed to the front lines for the Browncoats. It was Dom’s first real job as a smuggler, which is what he called himself now. Hell, if the Alliance didn’t want him and his considerable talents, he would take them to the Browncoats.
Of course, there was his whole notoriety as one of the most lethal ASAF commanders, and it was possible that would cause him some consternation. Looks like he would just have to find out. Right now he was heading to the mess where he had called his crew together for a meeting. It had been thirty-six hours since lift-off from Jingyin, and it was high-time he got to know the rest of his crew.
Dom was closer to six feet than five, and very lean. His olive skin kept its youth despite the fact he was now approaching the dreaded middle age. His black hair was slicked back, but would hang below his ears if he did not keep up with it. While on ship he usually wore something very similar: a heavy, urban camouflage colored fabric pants, with a tight-fitted t shirt of varying color. Thick leathered black boots covered his feet, and his old dog tags hung from his neck, though he had long since taken a thick blade to any information ruining it for later use. A large-caliber pistol was always strapped to his right hip, with a long, thick knife strapped to his left.
He had been a model Alliance officer, on the track to become Admiral, but when he lost his ship it was determined to be due to a command error, leading him to being formally discharged and disgraced. Dom, of course, disagreed with that decision and immediately used his savings to purchase himself a Firefly Series 3. On his own he had limped her from port to port until finally reaching Jingyin, where he had finally managed to pick himself a new crew.
This new crew was still unfamiliar to Dom, considering the state his ship had been when he picked them up, he was willing to take on just about anyone. He had also run into a little bit of trouble with the local law, considering their new cargo they had just picked up: two dozen loads of meds headed to the front lines for the Browncoats. It was Dom’s first real job as a smuggler, which is what he called himself now. Hell, if the Alliance didn’t want him and his considerable talents, he would take them to the Browncoats.
Of course, there was his whole notoriety as one of the most lethal ASAF commanders, and it was possible that would cause him some consternation. Looks like he would just have to find out. Right now he was heading to the mess where he had called his crew together for a meeting. It had been thirty-six hours since lift-off from Jingyin, and it was high-time he got to know the rest of his crew.