X4 stories: the Derelict Logs

Official fiction, fan fiction and artwork. Let your talent express itself!

Moderators: TheElf, Moderators for English X Forum

Post Reply
Mevelios
Posts: 26
Joined: Wed, 29. Jun 22, 16:26

X4 stories: the Derelict Logs

Post by Mevelios » Sun, 25. Sep 22, 04:46

Story starting below with the codeboxes. Direct links to entries within this thread will be located after the codeboxes, since next entries will be posted as replies here.

Temporary note: @moderators, could please a member of the team take the time to estimate whether the mild vulgarity in the first entry is acceptable? From my understanding, as long as it remains an exception (twice in my case, but not directed at a real person/group) it doesn't require action. Thanks in advance!

Please note I'm not well-versed into the X lore or titles preceding X4, so I won't refer to them (or at least avoid it a lot). Should there still be inconsistencies, feel free to make me notice them so I can edit appropriately; new entries, changes and credits will be referred to in the spoiler below!

Hopefully you will enjoy these entries. Stay safe, fellow spacefarers!
Changelogs & credits
Show
Dates referred under the model YY/MM/DD

22/09/25 - Creation of the Derelict Logs / the Heavy Metal Queen archive / entry #1 The beginning
22/09/28 - The Heavy Metal Queen archive / entry #8 Our first contract

Code: Select all

Welcome, fellow spacefarer, to the Riptide Rakers' Public Archive of Faraway Salvage Operations!

In accordance with our policy of Faraway Salvage Operations, you may find within the various logs extracted from wrecks deemed of interest by aforementioned initiative for instruction or entertainment of the public.
From trade to combat logs, unless any intelligence involving risks for friendly factions was identified, all contents recovered are accessible anytime from our database.

All these logs are being maintained by our editors' service, which may insert notes to contextualize or help understanding the references contained within.

Code: Select all

Please note however bounties and their claimants will remain undisclosed, as well as unrelevant details such as date and time of recovery. Should you be interested in participating to the FSO initiative, you are more 
than welcome to contact your closest FSOffice, with the guarantee of a 10% reduction off your next Manticore ship should you sign for the first time with the FSO initiative!*

We wish you an agreeable time consulting our archive, and stay safe from the Tide!

*Offer exclusively valid at Riptide Rakers' wharves. Vigor Syndicate representatives are invited to contact Central Administration for partnership offers.

Code: Select all

Current database contains 129747 archives. Any request for adding, editing, or removing an archive should be forwarded to the FSO Public Archive personnel. Estimated time of processing varies from one week to eight years.
Please remain civil with our personnel in the meantime.

Please type below your request; "open" followed by the archive's reference number to access a target archive, "random" to open a random archive, or "query" followed by your keywords to display associated results.

 > "random"

Quote marks were unnecessary, but good thing this system's designers anticipated empty-headed users, eh?

Opening random archive. Accessing...
----------TABLE OF CONTENTS----------

Archive #48530 - Heavy Metal Queen
Last edited by Mevelios on Wed, 28. Sep 22, 03:48, edited 2 times in total.
Luck is what happens when preparation meets opportunity. -Seneca the Younger

Mevelios
Posts: 26
Joined: Wed, 29. Jun 22, 16:26

Re: X4 stories: the Derelict Logs

Post by Mevelios » Sun, 25. Sep 22, 05:24

Code: Select all

Archive reference number #48530
Ship designation: Heavy Metal Queen
Ship registration: SZN-179
Ship model: Ides Vanguard
Captain: Linda Jorwan
Recovery sector: Litany of Fury IX

Code: Select all

Overview: trader ship. Ordinary story. Deemed of interest for instruction regarding daily risks when living in space.

8.615% of the captain's logs could be recovered. Accessible logs referenced under the following numbers: 1, 8, 41, 89, 103, 
125, 129, 145, 146, 148, 152, 198, 227, 239, 240, 254, 263, 267, 271, 272, 273, 296, 310, 311, 314, 316, 320, 325.

Code: Select all

Please type below your request; "read" followed by the aforementioned reference numbers to access a target log, "continuous" to consult them in a logical order, "random" to request another archive, "search" followed by 
your keywords to display results associated with the current archive, or "exit" to return to the Public Archive's main menu. Functionalities for "open" and "query" should be accessed from the main menu.

 > continuous

Starting logical read. Accessing...
- - - [ Captain's log - entry #1 - The beginning ] - - -

Original title, right? Didn't feel inspired. Whatever.

The name's Linda Jorwan. My age... is none of your concern. We haven't taken off yet with this new ship, but I felt like making a commemorative first entry before its inaugural flight.

I do call that entry a "beginning", but it's rather a second start. Until recently, we were all miners working "on the edge" of the Federation, that is to say - the underpopulated areas of interest to the Federation that await development. In layman's terms, shitholes where the poorest gather to feed richer sectors with much needed resources. Aside from us, pirates, Kha'aks and even Xenon are common occurrences. Police or security details, much less, but it's not like we have the credits to settle in wealthy, safe areas.

I was born to a poor but happy family. My father never was much of a smart guy, a bit hotheaded but his perseverance is unmatched by those I know. My mother would hold his reins anyway, despite being of a feeble constitution. Something about bone density and whatnot because she always lived in space. She nearly died at my birth so they never wanted another child, but enough about them.

As I was saying, we were miners "on the edge". After making enough money then borrowing some more, and the sponsoring of the Federation, my parents ordered the building of a new mining station in the sector of Morning Star IV. Nothing fancy, mind you, but enough to start a small mining operation with four ships and a basic processing facility to make our ore usable to the industries.

Between the space miners and the station crew, this outfit started with nineteen people. I grew up at first on the local planet with my grandparents, Morning Star d, because my mother feared I'd grow as weak as her in space. They died when I was sixteen though, and since the station needed funds, their possessions were immediately sold and I started living on it. I finished my basic education remotely, and immediately started working afterwards with my parents.

By then, the outfit had grown. Fifteen mining ships were employed, two extra transporters for our ores were constantly traveling to the rest of the Federation to feed the industries. They were mostly for our regular customers though, as the traders' traffic was abound. Overall, 104 people were living from our little venture. I quickly realized I had overestimated the quality of life onboard the station; there weren't much in the way of entertainment besides what we can use from personal terminals. You also quickly grow tired of the view - a big dot that is this system's star in the distance, otherwise rocks everywhere in a dark space. At least other stars are visible, still that made for a depressive sight.

And don't get me started about work safety. Obviously, when you're mining "on the edge", you're not dealing with the safest jobs or outfits. Accidents would often occur, and one of them claimed my mother's life shortly after I started living on the station. A leak from the processing facility released toxic gases, damaged the lungs of twenty-six people then killed eleven of them, herself included. Shortly after, my father only grew overprotective, but what was he expecting? I was already becoming a woman, only missing the maturity, and definitely took after him - I wouldn't listen. At some point he finally understood, so fistfighting he told me to deal with "unconsiderate" boys. Another way of being protective of me I guess, but he never was the same man again. Often with a weary look on his face, he would lead the station as he already did but ownership had been fully registered under my name from this point.

Back to the topic, we also obviously lost people and ships to the Kha'ak and the Xenon, and many wares to pirates. At least with the latter, you can buy your life by letting them have your cargo. Anyway, life kept going for eight years "peacefully" struggling to make a living, until these despicable insects decided they'd settle close to us.

That's when shit hit the fan. Kha'ak raids started intensifying, unrest onboard the station would only grow, until one day we noticed a new structure in sight - and not an Argon competitor. Kha'aks had started building an outpost close to us. Our activity immediately stopped, with only our transporters heading out with whatever ore we had left to sell. Traders weren't coming anymore, neither pirates.

Panic spread this day. The entire crew of the station gathered to the main dock, with obviously many cries for escaping this place. But we were "on the edge", so nobody had that sort of money to get away. Six of our mining ships had already been hijacked for a few people to leave, but we quickly declared them as stolen and as soon as they entered Argon Prime, they were apprehended. The others were grounded and systems' undocking procedures all locked. If you add in the two transporters that never came back, with barely twenty mining ships left from our last wharf orders that could be operated, there weren't room for everyone onboard for the more than a hundred people stranded on the station.

My father didn't step back from that crisis though. With some eloquence I never knew he had, he managed to keep our workers in line and quiet down the coming uprising. We emitted an emergency call for the Federation, and what do you expect? Empty promises followed. Supposedly, a fleet was scheduled to assist us as soon as possible, except - that fleet never showed up. Not when we needed it at least. The people had quieted down for two days, but the Kha'aks were progressing well enough on building their outpost. Anyone could see it, so the fury rose again.

That stubborn mule I call my father stood up again to calm them down. Attacks directly against our station had started that day, so there were no way "waiting" would be an acceptable answer. Our defenses had done their job, but they were few in number and had taken a hard hit. So he started convincing them of taking a different approach from fleeing. The worst I didn't even expect from a miner at the time: he began persuading people of taking an agressive approach. Instead of escaping, he managed to gather volunteers to head to the closest equipment dock and refit our ships with combat gear. No matter how much I opposed it, he wouldn't listen.

How do you figure that turned out? As expected, it went awry almost immediately. Whatever money hadn't been thrown at refitting, it was spent in recruiting independant captains - mercenaries that wouldn't say their names. Conveniently, our ships were first in line to bring the fight to the Kha'ak. It had barely started that four of them were destroyed in the first seconds, facing the first wave. The firing returned didn't do much; miners aren't war pilots, merely clueless civilians dreaming of themselves as heroes with the countless movies or games that can't reproduce the terror for your life, the widespread mess of a dogfight engagement that make the battle unreadable, and the stress that restricts your action and thinking to barely half of your potential.

The mercenaries had already started fleeing. In merely six minutes, all our ships had been destroyed and my family reduced to only myself. Without any ships left, a misery in credits and still no sign of that rescue fleet, there weren't much more to do. So I did the only thing I could: I got in touch with estate management companies and started negotiating. I wasn't expecting many deals, but they were all ready to purchase for a ridiculously low price. "Risk management" was their favorite argument, stating that obviously the Federation wouldn't hurry with the Xenon or Split incursions in Hatikvah's or Morning Star III, and the Holy Order crossing Antigonid space. It cost me a lot not to flare up at that one but with my back to the wall and lives under my responsibility, I unexpectedly managed to keep it to myself. Maybe the struggle between wrath and grief helped.

I finally struck a deal with one of them on the condition they'd send for people transports without delay. That they did; two frigates bringing mere tourism buses did the job well, with a guard detail of small ships meant for war. That was the closest to a "rescue" fleet from Argons I saw. It was an uncomfortable ride but they indeed brought us back to Argon Prime as agreed, and we left behind what little we had - I left behind whatever belonged to, or was, my family. It was impossible to recover our deceased.
PAFSO editor Julian Davis wrote:heck so cringey -Davis
The estate management company had made no mystery of what they intended to do with our station. They disassembled it and recovered whatever machinery was usable, only to sell it to their partners or the highest bidder. It mostly went to other outfits in the sector. I could've made that deal myself, had we not been under the insects' lethal threat. Whatever.

Finally safe, the crew quickly disbanded. We were already merely a bunch of downtrodden people scratching a survival, so obviously nothing strong held us together. The few who had relatives back there in that cursed battle could start mourning. Money quickly brings you back to reality though, so after paying everyone their dues, I had to start a new venture before losing too much. Since being a static helpless target wasn't really to my tastes anymore, and I definitely hadn't that sort of money anyway, I got in touch with the few people that remained around still unemployed in Argon Prime. It took a few weeks, but I finally managed to gather a large enough crew to operate constantly the ship.

And, there begins this new story. With the credits from the station sale, I could order a very basic Ides Vanguard from the local wharf. Nothing fancy; entry-level travel engines, thrusters and a shield, and a good interface as well as components for communicating and keeping accurate logs of our trades. I couldn't pay for turrets, but I don't expect to leave for contested space anyway - we've had our share of bloodshed for a while. I paid extra to make sure the interior would fit my needs; while it's not what I'd call comfortable, there are two sleeping quarters to separate ladies from gentlemen, toilets, two showers, a small kitchen that couldn't have more than eight people seated at the same time, and a small rest area that could hold as many people as the kitchen.

I never expected from the beginning to have all of us living at the same rhythm; while flying, the ship must remain operated wherever and whenever, hence the rooms unable to hold all of us together at the same time. Maybe the bridge could if we stand shoulder to shoulder, so I'll save it only for important decisions. Nobody has a private area besides their bunk and locker, so I'll have to consider shore leave too, if only for morale. There's nothing as fancy as "captain's quarters"; I have my bunk like the other girls.

The external hull is rather convenient for loading and unloading wares. The containers, while small, are arranged in the form of rotating circles taking nearly half of our central hull. Shipments can be loaded in precise smaller spaces all organized and referenced in our operating system, instead of a vast bay where they would be stacked altogether blindly, from fragile pieces to sturdy metallic products. Not the most efficient to make the best of our storage space, but oh so infinitely better to manage that huge loading capacity and remaining accessible to cheap docks that would still make use of machines the size of a human to load or unload. Not like we'd make great profits only staying in richer areas, so we'll have to visit smaller stations.

I decided to name that gal the Heavy Metal Queen. Says a bit about me, but it's all I could make out of whatever I had left of my family, and I'm not going to be shy about it. I could bring onboard nineteen people alongside me, but for now between those that remained of our former outfit and a few new recruits, we are fourteen onboard. Mostly men, but I'll keep the crew's introduction for a later entry; they just told me we were all onboard and ready to take off at my order.

We'll be heading first to close factories with too many supplies on their hands on known trade routes. It won't turn much of a profit but we've got to start somewhere, before making contact with new partners and seeking out actively lucrative deals! Fortunately, considering the ties between the Federation and the Antigonids, it shouldn't take long to establish relations. I insist on remaining independant but that also makes us easy targets, so hopefully soon enough we'll come across contracts offered directly by any of these factions so we can fly under their protection. It won't deter most pirates, but any slight extra chance is welcome since we can't fight back or flee fast; it will also help in making relations!

Anyway, time to head out to the bridge, turn up the radio and give my first flying order as captain. Linda Jorwan, captain of the Heavy Metal Queen, over and out!

- - - [ END OF ENTRY ] - - -

Code: Select all

End of entry. Load the next one #8 "Our first contract"? Y/N
(No will bring you back to this archive's menu)

 > Y

Accessing next entry...
Last edited by Mevelios on Wed, 28. Sep 22, 03:50, edited 1 time in total.
Luck is what happens when preparation meets opportunity. -Seneca the Younger

Mevelios
Posts: 26
Joined: Wed, 29. Jun 22, 16:26

Re: X4 stories: the Derelict Logs

Post by Mevelios » Wed, 28. Sep 22, 03:46

- - - [ Captain's log - entry #8 - Our first contract ] - - -

Who knew maintaining the captain's log would be so bothersome? Transaction logs, maintenance, comms, crew notes, provisions, there's no end to it. At first I thought I'd be able to do daily entries but we've started anew for several weeks already, guess that means there's no time to get bored or remain idle, right? The crew is still the same as ever, it's hard to find enough trust to welcome in new faces we know nothing of. We already all have our quirks; this ship is our place of work, but also of living in space, whether we like it or not.

Anyway. We've found our marks in Argon Prime's space, and while there's no big profit to be made, at least it's safe. Still, it's time we moved on to different sectors as my financial balance remains on the negative end. Wages are costing me dearly, so there's no denying this harsh truth: we can only profit from other people's misery.

Old habits never die though. Across the various stations we visited, I made it a point to visit several bars. A good drink or two makes anyone's tongue loose, and drunkards have no secrets. So I got to hand a few tips to this or that bartender in the hope of getting valuable hints, and what do you know? Turns out sometimes it's well worth the cost!

One of them had an interesting two-days-old story to offer: a regular of his was based in the fith sector of Black Hole Sun, according to whom several gas mining operations were looking to expand to answer the increasing demand in Argon Prime. Opportunities to sell all sorts of building materials seemed numerous; regardless, building materials are always great wares for sale since there's always one station out there looking to repair or grow larger. So I decided to take the gamble, had the ship loaded with a bunch of wares from low-end electronics to high-tech hull parts including a few extra small handling vehicles. At the end of the day, my remaining credits were dangerously close to zero.

I do speak of a gamble, but really what I had in mind were much more of a very reasonable risk; these wares were basically what we'd purchase back then at the station. The vehicles especially, as there's no end to them ending up out of order for this or that reason, so you always need extras on the side unless you want your workers to remain idle when they mishandle the tools they work with. The larger the station, the more mechanics find themselves swamped in repairs.

The ties between the Antigone Republic and the Argon Federation proved to be a great help for us to easily cross Second Contact when being inspected by the local police. As long as their scans do not return the detection of forbidden wares and your cargo manifest has been edited and approved by one of these two factions' customs, the check lasts barely a few minutes. Some of the crew was complaining about the lack of turrets should we meet any of the Holy Order's zealots mistaking us for a Federation affiliated vessel, but we met none, so the crossing proved uneventful. Better that way in my opinion.

So here we are, in Black Hole Sun V. Quite the spectacle to behold: with the many gases, the reflections of the local star's light produces all sorts of beautiful hues. Unsurprisingly, most of the traffic we're meeting here is made of gas miners and traders. With no particular idea of which station to visit, we headed at first for the local administrative center for a quick visit to see if there were official postings or any sort of offer. Damn, they were endless and the locals are heavily competing with one another! They must be sponsored by the Federation to be so many to display their offers here, since usually this sort of visibility comes at quite the cost.

We grabbed one of the most competitive offers, and after confirming with the local customs our Federation cargo manifest, they gave us the coordinates for the delivery and made the reservation to secure our trade, on the condition that we'd be back with the final trade log so they can update their announce accordingly. We're slightly on the losing side there since we wouldn't need otherwise to come back had we known already where to go, nonetheless it's a great opportunity.

Sadly, our target station wasn't in a completely peaceful area. We met on the way our nemesis: the Kha'ak again. Obviously, considering our last meeting, everyone was suddenly on edge as soon as our detectors echoed and identified one of their squads. While standing on the bridge, I could hear behind me whispers that "we should have had turrets installed", but I can't purchase what remains unaffordable at the time.

Fortunately, it took them a good while to catch up to us. When they started firing, the station was in sight and we could warn them of the coming threat, so the turrets were online and ready to fire anytime. The insects disengaged shortly before getting in their range; once docked we decided to apologize for the trouble, but the staff replied it was a common occurrence for them. Our shield had held up well, I'm glad I purchased even the most basic model. Helps in saving up credits that would've been otherwise thrown at repairs, and there's nowhere in this sector where we could perform extensive repairs if we seriously came under attack.

They were glad to take nearly all of our wares off our hands, except some machinery spare parts that must have been damaged at some point as well as a few of our handling vehicles. Surely we'll be able to sell them elsewhere. The unloading took a few hours, so the Kha'ak must've moved on; as soon as our transaction was concluded, we headed back to the administrative center with the final log they expected us to deliver. The locals provided us a small file as part of the deal with the center to update their offers, since the regulars amongst traders here no longer resort to an intermediary.

And that's where we've been for the last two days; the administrative center of this sector. I decided to give the crew some much needed "shore leave" (still wonder why that expression endured when we're in space) after the Kha'ak encounter. The girls headed straight to the bar together, except me - heard they caused quite a commotion until late into the night, considering their hangover it must've been a good time!

As for me, I went with one of our Teladi, Gobanis Yohulis Tumulis the fourth, or "Jules" in short because not a single one of us can tell his name properly, so we found the closest name familiar to us and he grew used to it. Obviously he was with us back in Morning Star, so when you recruit a lone Teladi far from Teladi space, chances are he's a former Scale Plate Pact member who can't go back to them. Can't be too choosy about your candidates. Guess he only reinforced my impression when I followed him to one of the local gambling dens!

The thing with these lizards is, they're supposedly cowards with a strong instinct to flee. However, when the harm is not directed at them and they can make money from it, looks like they're completely fine; he definitely fit into the den when we started both betting on freefighting bouts. I only won with one of my bets so I left him there after five bouts, the ship races were attracting my attention a lot more. In the end, I lost three hours, a bunch of credits, and my ears still feel the noise as they kept ringing for a while from the crowd's cheers.

McCoy and Cornell, our usual lumps of lust, found obviously their way to the local clubs. Been a while since the last complaint for their sneaky hands grabbing hips and butts as if it weren't an aggression, looks like they're finally fitting in. I'm keeping an eye on them anyway, doubt they'd learn so well so fast. They came back not long ago, they must've thrown their entire salary at that fun again. No advance in pay anymore.
PAFSO editor Jay Morval wrote:bhs v admin center? go to the lecherous mongrel, ask for lucy. good lass that one -JM
The rest of the guys mostly mingled with the other crews around the docks, exchanging rumors, offering a drink or sharing their hobbies. That led to a very good piece of information: several traders had been recruited temporarily by the Federation to make runs, to ensure local stations would be provided with the wares necessary to expand their activities. After hearing that, I met with the captain of the crew which provided the intel; long story short, it's no different from bartenders - a tip talks better than your tongue ever will.

We didn't even have to go far away; all it took was making an appointment with the right person at the trade office. It isn't yet an official opportunity but I could negotiate for us a contract to fly for some time under the Federation's colors, in order to ensure their stations could be delivered the wares they need to expand their activities. Depending on the volumes we'll deliver at the Black Hole Sun sectors, we'll get a weekly bonus when sectorial trade logs are updated on top of every profit we make, while that official contract vastly eases police or customs checks and clearance to dock. A real win-win opportunity for us, as long as we aren't intercepted by the Holy Order!

The contract will legitimately take effect tomorrow, so I think this shore leave won't last much longer. Who knows how long it will take before all stations are fully provided? Pretty sure half of the crew already spent all of their last pay. Since there's no extra benefit from sourcing our goods at Federation stations, maybe we should head for the Antigone ones; with our new status it could prove interesting to establish new relations. Always worth checking for opportunities in the Second Contact sectors, though to be on the safe side we'll only fly along the corridor linking Argon Prime to Black Hole Sun - to access the sectors other than Flashpoint we'll borrow the highway as long as our sensors do not detect a Holy Order fleet near their jump gate. The window of opportunity will be short but that's part of the reason why I invested in our sensors!

Alright, better get some rest before telling the crew we're on a mission from now on. Come to think of it, maybe somewhat candidly asking other crews around about their favorite routes for the goods that interest us would be wiser, while I give my people an extra day of rest? While I'm at it, maybe also ask what they know of the Republic... Not that I'm expecting much from that, but I have no idea precisely at which time tomorrow our contract will take effect. I'll leave a notice to the crew so they know tomorrow's the last day of leave for a while, rest a few hours and try my chance!

- - - [ END OF ENTRY ] - - -

Code: Select all

End of entry. Load the next one #41 "The Antigonids"? Y/N
(No will bring you back to this archive's menu)

 > Y

Accessing next entry...
Luck is what happens when preparation meets opportunity. -Seneca the Younger

Post Reply

Return to “Creative Universe”