(Please note that this is a work of fan fiction, set in the Star Citizen universe. The marks and properties, 'Star Citizen', 'Squadron 42', 'Cloud Imperium Games', and 'Roberts Space Industries' are property of Cloud Imperium Games Corp. and Roberts Space Industries Corp ("RSI"). All rights in content, including places, characters, concepts, and ships produced and created by RSI relating to said marks and properties belong to RSI.)
June 17, 2909
Today I graduate. It has been a long, ugly, and unexpected path that brings me to this, one that none would have ever expected me to rise from. Perhaps I should explain.
I grew up on a backwater ag world on a farm my grandpa had dug out of primordial muck not more than forty years before I was born. It was run-down when I was a lad and it only got worse with the pummeling of time. We raised sedge and wheat, grapes and peaches, and a god-awful root crop called 'puds' that tasted like sour glue mixed with curdled milk and cattle-pies. Chores were a twelve to fourteen hour a day grind; they stunk and so did everything I knew or owned. The only thing that gave me relief was school work... go figure, right? But my hard work there paid off enough that my scores showed promise and I got a scholarship to a tech school. Okay, it was a Covalex corporate tech school; after five months of initial training, they sent me up to the void learn the rest.
In space, I learned how to maintain and repair their scows as we ran produce and supplies across the vast emptiness. It was really work, but I also spent those months learning how not to get sick when jumping, not to drink enough to get stupid, and when to duck to avoid getting hit by whomever. Unfortunately, I also wound up in the wrong place at the wrong time; three months to the day after I got into space, we were waylaid by pirates after we had just emerged from a jump. Okay, they called themselves 'Protection Entrepreneurs', but they were still scum in spacecraft led by some 'infamous' lout named Jordan Ikasori. We were herded off our Freelancers and together onto a Caterpillar to be held for ransom.
Two days later, I thought things were suddenly getting better when a small team of Advocacy Agents chasing "Commodore" Ikasori struck and recovered the whole lot of us. They lost their target, but we were free!
Well... almost: my luck had really run out; the lists of Covalex employees the Agents had were probably six months old... and I was not on them. I was herded away with the captured pirates; none of the crew had a chance to speak up to identify me. In the end, I was summarily convicted on several counts of piracy and shipped off to a Roussimoff Rehabilitation Systems compound to serve a couple life sentences.
I learned to survive. I got a strong indoctrination into the criminal element's "culture" and almost became one of them... almost. I learned when to lose my temper and when to chill, when to stand my ground and when to back away. I even learned when to tell a joke and when not to. My one saving grace was when one Rehab tech took a bit of pity on me and got me into the tech training sequence they had. Okay, I had to do the tech's taxes for him, but it was a fair swap.
For nine years, I was in that facility. Let's be honest: we were really slave labor in a prison setting. I helped build the Silent Sentinel's and, after a year or so, rose to where I was the highest ranking prisoner on the Armor production line. Life was better... until I flirted with a young librarian; she just happened to be the warden's daughter.
The nastiest job in our facility involved cleaning the exceptionally aromatic solid waste out of the septic holding ponds at our waste water treatment plant. I'll give you three guesses where the warden sent me to work, and you probably only need one.
Well, I can say that the wheels of justice finally aligned for me and someone somewhere matched my DNA with the Covalex database. I was up to my knees in... well... flush residue, when I was called over to the rehab tech on the pond bank. There was a tall, well dressed woman standing with him, holding a large folder. While she appeared repulsed by my approach, she did manage to choke out that I was to clean up and come to a release hearing.
Two hours, a painfully long shower, and a lot of deodorant later, I sat in the sub-warden's office to hear that the Advocacy had finally discovered the error. Stunned I sat, trying to reorient myself as I was informed that the High-Advocate's office had ordered my immediate release with a small compensation package to perhaps assist me in returning to a normal life.
That brings me to where I am today. The package included attending the Advocacy's piloting academy on Terra. I'm not going to be an Agent, but I'm qualified as a pretty good pilot. On top of that, there's a brand spanking new Origin 315p at the spaceport with my name on it. I'll be an explorer or a hired gun in her, or maybe even a bounty hunter. I have enough credits to not start out quite broke and lifetime insurance on her picked up by the High-Advocate's office.
Best of all, I think, is that I became a Citizen today! No, I'm not really sure if that is all that important, but just over an hour ago I was vested at a small ceremony by one of the Terran Senators! It was... well, I was going to say "awesome" but when I really think about it, it was a lot of pompous folks trying to help me forget the nine years they stole from me. Well... I don't expect to ever meet them again, and at least I think I appeared happy and excited. Anyway, I'm not a civ any more. I wonder what the rest of 2909 will bring.
