Smoke's Journal

The following are scribbled on scrap paper that can be found scattered about Smoke's ship. For ease of reading, they're in chronological order starting from a year ago.

-----
1​

I'm not dead, but I'm not feeling particularly alive either. My friends are dead from what I can gather. I ran. I ran as far away as I could after the bomb. I was a fool coming there thinking it was safe and an even bigger fool thinking that coming there without armor was gonna keep me safe.

But it was Leto who kept me safe. The bomb went off and I blanked out. A flicker of white came over my eyes and all I see is Leto's bloody dead body shielding me from the shrapnel. The bird was dead from my mistake. The guilt and pain just came over. The stress of it all. The massacre, the bombs, the deaths I caused. I had a heart attack and blanked out.

I woke up in a dumpster. And it smelled like shit. My chest felt like a straitjacket on fire, but I still managed to get myself out of there. I tumbled out and see my durasteel arm's all broke and busted. That was no fun, pally. I'll tell ya.

I was still in the Maul. They must've pronounced me dead and tossed me. Stress ain't doing too good on me and neither was smoking. I headed out onto the beampad limping and clutching at my chest. There was still blood on that beampad. Kluex be damned.

I collapsed on the Stinger v2 after setting the coords as far away from there as possible. And I just broke down crying. I got a broken arm more problems now than ever. My friends are dead and it's all my fault.

2​

I'm doing it again. Running from my problems. I can't even face the Antarans now. Just like the prisoners. I'm a disgrace. A pluckin failure. The ship's supplied with a years worth of food. Maybe.

3​

It's been 40 days. I drank all the cola. I can't look out the windows of the Stinger without seeing my reflection and thinkin that I'm a dead bird walking. I can't even think back to happy memories without them turning sad. I was getting married. Now I left my kid. I had a business. It's gone. I had a partner. Who knows where she went. It's all sad and I've been thinking about it for days.

I don't have the supplies to fix this arm. Can't fly out of Council Space either on the Stinger. Thing's running on next to nothing and my transactions are monitored. The ol arm's just gonna be dead weight for the time being.

4​

Day 75. I switched the ship to power conservation mode. I've had no lights for 5 days now. I've used my goggles to walk around and see things whenever I needed to move anywhere, but I've pretty much stayed put all scrunched up in a corner. I'm scared. I'm alone. I need people. I miss the life I had out there. But I'm not ready.

Just not yet.

5​

Day 147. Okay, lights are out now. Ship's in hibernation with 5% on fuel. My goggles are dead for its night vision filter. The ship's 'plumbing' for the ship was reliant on that last bit of power which means that I'm gonna be living with shit for the time being until I get the situation sorted out.

I drew a friend on the wall. I hate talking to myself, so talking to him makes me feel better. I just need to remember that these were the same things that happened to me before I came to Antares. Besides living in my own shit. Got a little bit of decency in me.

6​

Day 200. I ate all the perishables. All I got left are dried fruits and nuts. I've been exercising everyday whenever I got a little bit of light coming through from the outside. The ship's gonna need to land soon. If it maintains drift, there's a high chance I'm gonna hit a rock or something.

Exercise's been hard. One handed push-ups aren't my strongsuit. Can't run around on a corsair model ship either. Jogging in place makes me feel stupid, but I'm glad that it's dark enough that I can't see it.

Exercise has kinda been like a punishment these days. Makes you have to breathe in all the toxic fumes in the air and makes you feel like you're gonna die. But I'm weak. I ain't got the will to off myself when I've caused so many problems.

Gotta think on this.

7​

Day 220. I pulled a risky move and turned the power on for a bit to open the airlock. I shoveled as much of the waste as I could in there and closed the airlock. Now that I think about it, some poor planet is gonna be in for a surprise. A diet of granola bars, broccoli, and raisins ain't exactly pleasant.

I never found potty humor funny. I laugh at anything now. I have to. My friend's ignoring me. I hear him. SHUT UP DAMN IT

Shit. That note's a load of shit. I need to keep sane. I need to think.

8​

Day 283. I broke. I'm sorry everyone.

*Several notes are stained with blood with the words "WHY ME" written repeatedly*

9​

Save me. Day 311. I'm crashing. No fuel left.

10​

Day 347. Ship went into orbit of a trade colony and nearly crashed if it wasn't for the Stinger being detected as a valuable salvage. Junkers found inside, all torn up and sobbing with a bunch of notes all around me. They took me straight to a doctor. I got checked and had to be hooked up. My diet wasn't healthy. My body was in shape and was taking up a lot of calories. I got a mental check up. They said nothing long lasting. If they only knew.

But seeing these traders act so kindly to me I kinda just knew that I might not be as bad as I feel. Maybe it's time to head back into Antares. I need to do my part again. I need to make things right. I've felt the pain. Just gotta repent. Just gotta make things right.

I paid for fuel and the right to use my own damn ship again and got the hell out.

​

 

This journal entry is lazily put together after realizing that he writes in it at random.

Journal Entry #11- I'm really bad at updating

Looking through the things I wrote in my journal, I realize that I'm absolute shit at keeping my life documented. I wrote about life and not what I was doing and that's kind of a problem. So it's another one of me starting fresh.

Yesterday I got round to talking to Josh. The TQRF is a thing I want to get involved with, but from how I've been hearing about it, it ain't exactly a full-time thing with good pay. Waiting around for some good Samaritan work sounds dandy, but I know deep in my heart that sticking my beak in everyone's business is not a way Kluex is really wanting to see me through. Think about it, me. I'm a Weatherwind. A feather from a flock of fighters. My father Yaotl from my memory wasn't a bird that had his feathers clean I know that. And from what I learned about what I've done in my life, a Weatherwind is a bird that is free and fights for their own way to the Aether.

And I'm not thinking that my way there is through a helping hand. At least not in that way. So that's why I went to Josh. I first joined the USAF to get some resources and get some excitement in my life while I run a shop. Now I'm back at it with whatever the hell he's running. Might open my own garage again too. Because at least working with him gives me the freedom to do my own thing without keeping up the image that I'm a bird always willing to lend a helping hand. I know that I am a helping guy, but I'll be damned if I have to keep up an image like that. Anyways, working with Josh will let continue my goals of building my craft worthy of reaching the Aether. Because there are a lot of fools out there thinking that dying is gonna get them there. A lot more fools thinking that flapping their arms is gonna work too. But I'm gonna be the one that's gonna fly there and I know it. The prisoners back home called me Smokestack, but I'll show them how a real avian flies.

Let's see how getting back to the soldiering turns out. Explosives and shotguns again. Hopefully less killing and more building some fine works of metal.

 

Journal Entry #12- Building a future

So I found that I get my journal back on leave days from the IG. And my PDA. And my goggles. The guys there don't know it, but those goggles are like a part of me. I've had them since my time on the penal colony and it's the only souvenir I'm willing to keep from back there. A memory of my time as Smoke, the death pilot of the Junker. A time when I used to soar through space enjoying the views and blasting people out of space. And the torment and guilt of having to wear those goggles knowing that I wore them plucking out family lines. They're a memory for better and for worse.

They're also pretty plucking great and I use em for fixing things.

But speaking of fixing things, I started on the construction of my new garage. Smoke's Stop's coming. What I'm making? I'm not sure. I left my old electrolaser prints to Acacia and seeing these "Picadors" round Mud has me thinking they're Willow's. Not gonna compete with my step-son. Don't even want him knowing I'm existing. It's for the best.

But I'm thinking that the sector's gonna be needing mechanical repairs, armors, and upgrades still. Can't let the name die, ya know?

 

Journal Entry #13- Basic construction finished

Never thought I had it in me, finishing up the shop that is. Installed the basic shutter walls I tend to place and my crane finally arrived for me to install. Place is nice and situated on top of a cliff. It was a pain in the ass getting those supports installed. But on the bright side, it's finished. At least the framing for it and the walls. I still need to move the equipment in and set up my desk. I don't even have a product out to sell and judging from the state of things in the sector, there's not much for me to sell either. Possibly armor, depending on the designs I can draw up. I'll probably just stick to repairs and upgrades for now.

Training's been a drag. The same old stuff that I've been taught before. A lot of stuff I don't remember until I touch the equipment, but it's the same old stuff. I know it. It's a necessary thing though to make sure we're all refreshed, but I want to move on from the whole "recruit" thing. It's degrading, but that's not why I wanna move on from it. I just don't think puttin' myself down's gonna change any amount of respect or authority I'm going to give Scheffler. And he may not think it, but Weatherwind's are a loyal group from what I can remember. We don't opt to disrespect the people that have helped us.

The Weatherwinds. I don't even know my own family that well to be using the name so often. All I got are some stories about them from my trip to Avos and their records, but I'm damn proud of what my family was. Fighters they were! At least in their own right. My dad, Yaotl, was a tough bird. A temple guard. Maybe not one of the top guards, but according to the oldies, he wore his title with pride. He protected a temple he didn't believe in because the people there were the very people who took him in and raised him. And then he raised me on those ideals, and then told me to follow my own flight to the Aether.

And flying's what I'm gonna do with this shop. I'm gonna make that ship.

 

Journal Entry #14- Found my journal

Damn thing was hiding under my desk the entire time. Had a lot to say all these months but never really had a chance. I guess it'd be easier to just go over the things that have gone down in the past months.

The Ranch, where my shop is, is gone. Destroyed by a series of attacks. Had to make my stand to defend my shop from a group of hovertanks. Wore maglock gloves modified from some maglock handcuffs I held onto from some guy to stick to the hover tank and open it up with my plasma cutter. Pilot ended up killing himself in the fight. Earned myself a hovertank, but at the cost of the entire colony. I'm alone on an abandoned colony now with just my shop left standing.

I still get business though. The occasional weapon sale and gadget sale, but my employees did end up leaving me. People can't understand that a workplace needs to be exciting to keep the mind working. If you don't enjoy what you're doing, you won't wanna do what you're doing. So I'm even more alone. But I did a job to build a portable EMP device. That really got the mind working compared to other projects.

The device I built was the Microwave Amplified Electronic Nullifier. Or the razzlefrazzle. I took apart a military dazzler, which uses infrared frequencies with a significantly weaker battery, and changed out the components. By swapping the applied filter and improving the battery with a gold nanowire battery, I was able to produce a microwave which can heat or disable electronics. I went to Fernbrook to test it and saw that a live experiment on a Glitch would prove the tool's effectiveness.

The Glitch ended up dying because of pre-existing damage to his faraday cage which was something he should've told me. I ended up getting arrested and put in jail for "manslaughter" despite attempts to save the Glitch's life delayed by a guard. Spent a couple days in jail before realizing that there's a hole in the ceiling. Old prison tactics taught me to "use whatever shit possible to escape". I propped the bed up and climbed up with a shit bucket on my head. A guard came in and I had to improvise. I tossed the bucket at him, slammed him into the wall, and put him into a sleeper hold. Kicked him in the head for good measure and went out for a cola. Kade offered me a shower. Nice pally. Was walking back to prison with my cola and then got tased.

Eventually got out of prison, but was banned from Fernbrook and the MAEN was confiscated. Had to build a new one, but this time a little better. I added the ability to use it as a weapons attachment and a soft bass hum that can disrupt certain radio frequencies as a form of acoustic warfare. Eventually I got around to delivering the tool to the bird. She offered two projects: A electromagnetic crossbow and a ship repair.

The electromagnetic crossbow would just be a variant of typical rail-type weaponry I've made in the past. As a ship weapons specialist during time as a pilot, I dealt with railguns. I built rail guns for the Grey Hand. The issue was the one-handed capabilities of the weapon. Based on initial thoughts, if the copper wires around the iron cores were coiled more tightly down to a microscopic or even a smaller level, the strength should improve. An increase in current based on the battery used will also help. Having it be front loaded will also let me rifle a gauss type barrel to spin the bolt. The weapon's weight will have to adjusted using lighter steel nanoplated with other metals, an inconel alloy. Otherwise, I'll have to use the dimensions I draw up to develop a carbon-print. The question is which will handle the heat produced by the battery the best. Price estimate was 750-1200 pixels, but I'm afraid that it may run higher due to some chemical limitations.

Glad to still be working. One of the few things still keeping my mind sane.