Trying for something a little different... inspired by the short rehash of the old nautical legend I stuck up on the wiki a while back... now Bang up to date with the modern era. And yes... I know there're a few inaccuracies, it's not supposed to be a 'true story' as such, just something that gets shared among nautical-minded Fen out to spook newcomers to SSX Base, or warn them about the dread fate that awaits those who leave their fellow voyagers to die in space.
So then,
The Tale of the Flying Dutchman.
---->>
This was a long time ago, way back before the Boskone War, when the wave was still breaking and everything in space was new. The hand of man was reaching for the new frontier, and none was more eager to go forth than Bernard Van der Decken. He waved himself a sailing ship, and set sail for the stars themselves.
A cargo runner by trade, he pushed himself and his crew hard. He was the first and fastest damn ship across the system, and he revelled in the status that gave him. Money flowed in… charters from Stellvia, freight runs for the Roughriders. Anyone who wanted cargo run, wanted Van der Decken to run it. His speed was his pride. They called him The Flying Dutchman.
Of course, this came to an end. Van der Decken was challenged to a race, when Mars and Earth where in opposition. He lost to what had once been a pleasure yacht. Concilliatory in public, secretely Van der Decken seethed. Second was the first loser. As progress marched forwards, so did speeds. Van der Decken fell further and further behind.
Desperate to regain his position, he pushed his ship and crew harder and harder, diving deeper and deeper into the suns well, pushing well over .2 at times with the gravity assist. Nobody flew closer to the sun than Van der Decken. Diving deep inside Mercury’s orbit to the point where his waved sails would begin to smoke and flame. His planking scorched and smouldered as the sun’s flares reached up to try claim him.
But it was never enough for the Flying Dutchman. He had to be faster. He might not have the fastest ship, but he could still compete on journey times. He took greater and greater risks, driving on through solar storms. His crew began to call him mad, and they weren’t far wrong. Van der Decken fell deeper and deeper into insanity, hiding from the pain of his radiation burns with doses of thionite.
One trip, diving deep passed the mines of Mercury, his radio operator picked up a distress call from a bulk-ore carrier. Engines wrecked, life support failing, drifting towards Mercury . His crew waited for the order to go for the rescue.
“Drive on!” ordered Van der Decken. “There’s nothing we can do for them,”
When they reached Crystal Tokyo… half his crew left the ship. The others made themselves a part of his crime by taking their share of the pay. That decision became an albatross around their necks.
Misfortune began to stalk the Dutchman. Systems malfunctioned and quirked out in ever more inconvenient and dangerous ways. Biomods tended so far towards the joker end of the spectrum they became nightmares … 'mods so horrible they never dared show their faces in public. Some say it was the solar radiation, but it seemed as if the ‘wave itself had taken a set against the crew
And still, Van der Decken would ignore calls for aid. He’d drive deeper and harder to save a gallon of fuel, or a half hour’s transit time. The solar weather forecast was something to be challenged. While other Captains would land their ships, or stay in dock, he dared the sun to lash out and claim him.
One night, it did. A flare unpredicted by Senshi Stellar Observatory boiled up from the sun, engulfing the Duthcman in coruscating flame. Systems failed across the ship, the Dutchman plowing forward through the fire under her own momentum until she came out the other side.
Out into empty space.
Their navigation was gone. Their sails still burned above them, left permanently alight with the fires of damnation. They ploughed on out into the empty spaces between planets, one little ship among billions of square kilometres.
Van der Decken broadcast his last distress call.
And waited for an answer.
And waited.
Static answered him. Hours bled into days, bled into weeks beneath the burning sails, with only themselves and the darkness of space for company.
The ship’s water tanks began to drain lower and lower. Food stores began to run out. Life support systems began to fail. The crew turned on themselves, desperate for survival… praying to some distant God who might deliver them from this hell.
Death claimed the crew. One after one, too quick for groan or sigh. Fifty living men, each man came before Van der Decken, and cursed him with his eye. Then without word our sound, dropped to the deck with a lifeless thump.
She life in death claimed Van der Decken. He lived on, parched off the thirst. Starved of food. Unable to die yet not quite living… bonded to his ship by the handwavium, doomed forever to wander the dark parts of space searching for a home port, calling for aid that will never come.
To this day, ships still pick up his distress call… a pleading dry voice with a harsh dutch accent, desperate for any form of help. Responses will go unheard. Attempts at triangulating the signal usually point to somewhere far above or below the plane of the ecliptic, out in empty space. Occasionally, someone may sight the Flying Dutchman…. An old sailing ship with it’s sails ablaze, trailing smoke and ash, so far away that it can barely be understood to be a ship and always racing away from the nearest home port at a speed impossible for a space vessel of it’s size.
It is considered an ill-omen to sight the Dutchman. Some of the first sightings were recorded in the vicinity of Venus, right before Crystal Osaka fell. Survivors of the Soyokaze say they heard the Dutchman’s call two days before they collided with a small asteroid in the main belt. Numerous other legends tell of Fen sighting the Dutchman, before some grave misfortune befell them. A joker biomod, a dreadful accident, or a Zwilnik attack in a ‘safe’ part of space. Always a situation that demands an SOS be sent.
It is said that the Dutchman waits and watches and claims those for his crew, who fail to respond to a call for aid made in good faith, that only after serving a penance on his ship wandering the lonely void between places… half alive and half dead…will they be allowed to move on to the next life.
----->>
________________________________
--m(^0^)m-- Wot, no sig?
So then,
The Tale of the Flying Dutchman.
---->>
This was a long time ago, way back before the Boskone War, when the wave was still breaking and everything in space was new. The hand of man was reaching for the new frontier, and none was more eager to go forth than Bernard Van der Decken. He waved himself a sailing ship, and set sail for the stars themselves.
A cargo runner by trade, he pushed himself and his crew hard. He was the first and fastest damn ship across the system, and he revelled in the status that gave him. Money flowed in… charters from Stellvia, freight runs for the Roughriders. Anyone who wanted cargo run, wanted Van der Decken to run it. His speed was his pride. They called him The Flying Dutchman.
Of course, this came to an end. Van der Decken was challenged to a race, when Mars and Earth where in opposition. He lost to what had once been a pleasure yacht. Concilliatory in public, secretely Van der Decken seethed. Second was the first loser. As progress marched forwards, so did speeds. Van der Decken fell further and further behind.
Desperate to regain his position, he pushed his ship and crew harder and harder, diving deeper and deeper into the suns well, pushing well over .2 at times with the gravity assist. Nobody flew closer to the sun than Van der Decken. Diving deep inside Mercury’s orbit to the point where his waved sails would begin to smoke and flame. His planking scorched and smouldered as the sun’s flares reached up to try claim him.
But it was never enough for the Flying Dutchman. He had to be faster. He might not have the fastest ship, but he could still compete on journey times. He took greater and greater risks, driving on through solar storms. His crew began to call him mad, and they weren’t far wrong. Van der Decken fell deeper and deeper into insanity, hiding from the pain of his radiation burns with doses of thionite.
One trip, diving deep passed the mines of Mercury, his radio operator picked up a distress call from a bulk-ore carrier. Engines wrecked, life support failing, drifting towards Mercury . His crew waited for the order to go for the rescue.
“Drive on!” ordered Van der Decken. “There’s nothing we can do for them,”
When they reached Crystal Tokyo… half his crew left the ship. The others made themselves a part of his crime by taking their share of the pay. That decision became an albatross around their necks.
Misfortune began to stalk the Dutchman. Systems malfunctioned and quirked out in ever more inconvenient and dangerous ways. Biomods tended so far towards the joker end of the spectrum they became nightmares … 'mods so horrible they never dared show their faces in public. Some say it was the solar radiation, but it seemed as if the ‘wave itself had taken a set against the crew
And still, Van der Decken would ignore calls for aid. He’d drive deeper and harder to save a gallon of fuel, or a half hour’s transit time. The solar weather forecast was something to be challenged. While other Captains would land their ships, or stay in dock, he dared the sun to lash out and claim him.
One night, it did. A flare unpredicted by Senshi Stellar Observatory boiled up from the sun, engulfing the Duthcman in coruscating flame. Systems failed across the ship, the Dutchman plowing forward through the fire under her own momentum until she came out the other side.
Out into empty space.
Their navigation was gone. Their sails still burned above them, left permanently alight with the fires of damnation. They ploughed on out into the empty spaces between planets, one little ship among billions of square kilometres.
Van der Decken broadcast his last distress call.
And waited for an answer.
And waited.
Static answered him. Hours bled into days, bled into weeks beneath the burning sails, with only themselves and the darkness of space for company.
The ship’s water tanks began to drain lower and lower. Food stores began to run out. Life support systems began to fail. The crew turned on themselves, desperate for survival… praying to some distant God who might deliver them from this hell.
Death claimed the crew. One after one, too quick for groan or sigh. Fifty living men, each man came before Van der Decken, and cursed him with his eye. Then without word our sound, dropped to the deck with a lifeless thump.
She life in death claimed Van der Decken. He lived on, parched off the thirst. Starved of food. Unable to die yet not quite living… bonded to his ship by the handwavium, doomed forever to wander the dark parts of space searching for a home port, calling for aid that will never come.
To this day, ships still pick up his distress call… a pleading dry voice with a harsh dutch accent, desperate for any form of help. Responses will go unheard. Attempts at triangulating the signal usually point to somewhere far above or below the plane of the ecliptic, out in empty space. Occasionally, someone may sight the Flying Dutchman…. An old sailing ship with it’s sails ablaze, trailing smoke and ash, so far away that it can barely be understood to be a ship and always racing away from the nearest home port at a speed impossible for a space vessel of it’s size.
It is considered an ill-omen to sight the Dutchman. Some of the first sightings were recorded in the vicinity of Venus, right before Crystal Osaka fell. Survivors of the Soyokaze say they heard the Dutchman’s call two days before they collided with a small asteroid in the main belt. Numerous other legends tell of Fen sighting the Dutchman, before some grave misfortune befell them. A joker biomod, a dreadful accident, or a Zwilnik attack in a ‘safe’ part of space. Always a situation that demands an SOS be sent.
It is said that the Dutchman waits and watches and claims those for his crew, who fail to respond to a call for aid made in good faith, that only after serving a penance on his ship wandering the lonely void between places… half alive and half dead…will they be allowed to move on to the next life.
----->>
________________________________
--m(^0^)m-- Wot, no sig?
