Virgil Heidegger

VESSEL INVENTORY, CAPABILITIES, and ARMAMENTS MANIFEST (V.I.C.A.M.)
=== !! THE FOLLOWING DOCUMENT IS *CLASSIFIED* TOP SECRET !! ===
=== PERUSAL BY PERSONS UNAFFILIATED WITH S.L.C. IS FORBIDDEN ===

• Vessel Designation: D575-G5-2
• Vessel Callsign: "USS Leave-Me-Alone"
• Registered Pilot: Virgil Heidegger, 37, CA/m

MANUFACTURE DETAILS

The "USS Leave-Me-Alone" - hereafter referred to as "the ship", because it is this officer's opinion that the name is deliberately irritating - is a hodge-podge of a vessel. The ship's base model is unclear; its basic chassis is nearly unidentifiable, whether due to heavy damage or deliberate obfuscation. The placement of its impulsor near the ship's rear indicates Earth manufacture, and that its original purpose was most likely as a civilian personnel shuttle. Earth-based manufacturers don't make shuttles like these anymore, though, and according to Coalition data files, they haven't for decades. This officer has been told that the ship is what would be lovingly dubbed a "rat rod" - looks are by no means the point of the ship, but rather, functionality. But knowing what we do about the ship and its pilot, it is doubtful that Mr. Heidegger had this in mind.

CAPABILITIES

Warrant Officer Davies believes the nearest match to this ship's design is that of the Steiner Shepherd, a light parcel ship from the early 2100s. There are certainly a number of outward differences in the design, likely due to heavy customization (and, in this officer's opinion, improvised parts replacement), but it could probably be safely assumed that the ship does not exceed the following capabilities.

• Impulsor: Rear-mounted, electric-ionized, max speed ~2000 meters per second
• Cruise Engines: Fossil-fuel-based afterburners (2x), max speed ~8000 meters per second
• Armor: Aluminum alloy (improvised?), no more than 5 inch thickness
• Shielding: Unknown (potentially destroyed/missing)
• Weapon Output: Makoto Arms KAIJU Mining Laser (1x), ~250 Joules per square cm

PILOT PROFILE

• Name: Heidegger, Virgil
• Race: [CA]ucasian
• Sex: Male
• Age: 37
• Occupation: Freelancer?

Virgil Heidegger, for all the things we know about him, has a past that can be optimistically described as "confusing." We don't know where he was born, or if he has any living family. He has a military service record, but there are so many holes in it that we have no idea how he got where he is. His service was, officially, 15 years under the Coalition Navy. Most Navy recruits only make it to 2nd Lieutenant in that time, but Heidegger somehow reached the rank of Colonel. If Lt.Col. Marston's data is in any way accurate - and he swears he cross-checked everything he could find, and Heidegger produced a genuine Colonel's Eagle that scanned as the real deal - our files may have been class-four redacted. Which means THIS file is in danger of the same for even mentioning that.

All I can say for certain is that, despite his appearances (and the condition of his ship), Heidegger is not a stupid man. As Lt.Col. Marston reported to us, his status as a Colonel of the Coalition Navy means he must have been doing something right for being only 37 years of age. Whether cunning or luck, we cannot be certain. Why Heidegger is not currently commanding a capitol ship of his own, or identifying himself as a Coalition officer, is similarly unclear, but is likely related to the reason why his service record is almost entirely missing. I swear, it undermines my post as a Records Officer that I have to say that.

Currently, Heidegger is operating as a civilian freelancer. Our records show that he is currently under contract to...well, some no-name ship dealer aboard Loye Station. Marston looked into him as well, and he's literally a nobody. His inventory is outdated, his sales are poor at best, and the deepest probes into his background reveal nothing more than a couple of divorces and a single felony citation for failing to declare perishable foods aboard his ship, two decades ago. God knows why Heidegger is working for this idiot. Convenient cover? A turn of bad luck?

Heidegger's only known cohort goes by the callsign "Lucia" - we don't have any records of her, and she's taken on the identity so strongly that she's apparently hacked her ship's VITALS data to display that instead of her actual pilot designation. Her presence complicates matters. Marston reported that her ship fired a weapon that, in his words, "was falsely identified as a Disabler missile," but caused an uncontained E400 reaction dangerously close to an asteroid belt. She clearly knows her way around the VITALS system, and the fact that Virgil keeps company like her means that his ship's data is most likely to have been falsified as well. Therefore, any Coalition personnel that spot Mr. Heidegger or his wingman, be advised: DO NOT ENGAGE.

SHIP MANIFEST

The "USS Leave-Me-Alone" - let the record show I HATE this name - is equipped with ordinary aluminum hull plating, an underpowered impulsor, a single mining laser, a ship's computer with a dead GPU, and a cargo bay mostly occupied by...what we can only determine is a severely misshapen hull reinforcement strut. The most likely cargo to be carried aboard the ship is the odd half-ton of junk merchandise. Heidegger is unlikely to be carrying anything particularly valuable, but the fact that this ship is somehow still in service despite being almost a century old indicates he has more street-smarts than can be formally stated in a military document.

ADVISED COURSE OF ACTION

Previous data suggests that the ship may be equipped with some hidden capabilities of which we are as yet uncertain. Exercise extreme caution if you are in his vicinity. It is highly likely he has a number of tricks up his sleeve.

--Records Officer Mai Adachi, SLCG "Temperance"

Virgil's Character Arc

Character arc for Virgil Heidegger...

At 18, Virgil enlisted with the Solar Liberty Coalition, having found that the conflict between the colonists and Earth was going to become a major turning point for life off-planet. He desired a means to get into the action, take the fight to them. However, after three years of flight training and drilling, his first assignment was battle damage assessment. Virgil's duties were primarily recording images of wrecked ships, destroyed colonies, and scanning battle sites for escape pods or dead bodies. Sobering work at best.

Virgil's persistence eventually got him reassigned to a patrol squadron, but by this point, Virgil had become soured on the nature of armed conflict. He loved flying ships, especially the Coalition's ultra-nimble attack fighters, but was hesitant to pull the trigger on op-for vessels so much weaker than the standard-issue Coalition craft.

Meanwhile, the war with Earth was supposedly coming to a close, or so went the scuttlebutt around the flight crew. Virgil, now a First Lieutenant, was assigned a patrol squadron on the Coalition flagship. His first sortie for this squadron would be his last.

The briefing was as routine as anything else: the flight squadron would patrol a series of locations determined to be hotspots for "insurgent" activity, whether remnants of the opposing Earth forces or areas suspected of being heavily pirate-populated. The asteroid field, Virgil thought, was suspiciously far away from base, but there was no explanation given at briefing, and his questions remained unanswered.

The squadron approached its second to last patrol point. The squad leader and his second in command continued joking like they usually did. It was business as usual to them. Nothing to worry about. They pulled close to the astroids, expecting nothing.

Ten blips appeared on radar. They were not visible to VITALS. IFF showed nothing. Image-recognition wasn't picking up anything ship-shaped.

Lieutenant Colonel Myers, squadron leader, broadcasted to all ships in the region. "This is the Solar Liberty Coalition Navy, to all ships in this area. Show and identify yourself."

No response.

"All ships not signed for VITALS, show and identify yourself immediately. We are authorized to use force."

Still nothing.

"Identify yourself or my squadron will open fire--"

Myers' ship was immediately impacted by a Mercury missile, piercing through shields and hull alike, detonating the ship from within. The 5-man patrol squadron, now only 4 men strong, was ordered to break and attack. But without VITALS signatures to lock on to, image recognition was all they could rely on, and these ships were devious, hiding behind asteroids and debris.

Virgil, in a fit of panic, did the same. His ship carefully positioned behind an asteroid, he signed out of VITALS and ceased broadcasting his ship data to the rest o the squad. His flight recorder was switched on. He did his best to position the ship to record whatever he could, from the reflexes he'd gained as a BDA pilot.

Image recognition identified several of the attacking ships. These were not the scrapped-together little beaters typical of marauders, nor were they the hybrid plane-like ships that Earth squads flew. These were Coalition fighters, nearly identical to the one he flew.

Virgil sat in his pilot's seat with his head between his legs, tears staining the visor of his flight helmet. His ship was untouched. The op-for had never found him, but the rest of his squad was dead. He sat there for minutes. The flight recorder had finally run out of footage space. The enemy squad, as far as he knew, was long gone. Virgil booted up the rest of the ship again. No VITALS signatures remained. No calls were coming over vidcom. He pointed his fighter back to base and cruised.

Back at base, Virgil was greeted with disappointment. Where was the rest of the squad? Dead, he'd replied. Why hadn't he taken any hits? He remained silent. If anybody should hear what happened, it'd be the brass. He wasn't ready to tell anybody else, but hte brass needed to hear this, badly.

The report to the Colonel's office was almost a court-martial. He was absolutely furious - an entire squadron lost, save for the damned coward who only survived because he hid instead of trying to save anybody. Virgil had tried to tell him that the opposing force consisted of Coalition vessels, but could not finish the sentence. The Colonel wanted to hear none of it. Virgil would be hearing from a disciplinary committee about it, he was assured.

A month passed before VIrgil heard anything else. He was effectively grounded; not confined to quarters, as judgment was still underway, but without much to do on base, he might as well have been. The flight recorder was being analyzed by the records department. He'd just have to keep waiting.

The next time Virgil was called to the Colonel's office, it was not to be court-martialed. The Colonel had had a complete change of heart since that day, it had seemed; Virgil was not to be reprimanded, but promoted and reassigned. Combat duty was clearly not suited for him, but he'd be able to keep doing good for the colonists if he were assigned to a colony ship. The Colonel already had one in mind: a famous vessel from half a century ago, called the SLCG Orenomah. The ship had been one of the original colony vessels responsible for founding the lunar colonies almost 50 years ago, and was being pressed back into service to found a new colony on Europa. Virgil perked up. A promotion, and a reassignment, meant he could be important again.

When he arrived, however, he saw the truth. The Orenomah was a near derelict, being kept afloat only by a handful of spot welds and prayers. It was not an assignment for glory and fame - it was an assignment to get him away from the action, to keep him out of the brass's hair, to keep him quiet. It would be the end of his career, and the end of his faith in the Coalition.

But of course, what Virgil does not know, is that the SLC fighters that annihilated his squad were a black-ops team assigned to keep the war with Earth going. In truth, the war against Earth only lasted one year before Earth surrendered. It was kept "going" by way of having Coalition ships destroyed on purpose, to prolong the war in the eyes of the colonists, and to continue holding leverage against the Earth megacities. Any resources from Earth that the Coalition needed, they'd simply take; colonists now had decades of ill will towards Earth that they'd never trust the Earth press to tell them that the war was a farce. The Orenomah, even, was never famous - it was certainly not famous enough that any layperson would know about it. But this was ultimately to Virgil's advantage.

During his time serving as the ship's Lieutenant Colonel, then his hasty promotion to Colonel after the ship's commanding officer deserted without a trace, Virgil learned important things. Diplomacy reigned supreme on the edge of fringe space. While pirate activity was commonplace near Europa (a region of space that, despite appearances, the SLC cared nothing for), the pirates were rarely so willing to engage in a fight on sight. The less they needed to fire their weapons, the better condition their goods would be in when it came time to mop up. Better still if they could just get the stuff they needed without needing to use threats at all. The same went for the Orenomah. With a barebones complement of ill-equipped defensive fighter craft and no onboard weaponry, the Orenomah didn't exactly have a bargaining chip to counter with. But the ship was in such poor shape that pity was often the order of the day.

In one instance, a small band of pirates attempted a quiet infiltration of the Orenomah by landing in a suspiciously open shuttle bay. On landing, the doors closed as normal, until they got stuck halfway. It wasn't safe to disembark their ships, but they couldn't leave, either. Virgil, on investigating the broken doors, realized he had the squad trapped. He sent a message to the shuttle bay: we can send a crew to fix the doors and get you safely out, but only if there is something in return. His crew were instructed that the men stuck in the shuttle bay were new recruits, not pirates. Their squadron leader was a man identified as Wallace Ingram.

That Segment

"Uh...Captain? Sir?"

"Lieutenant Colonel, crewman. What's the problem?"

"Were we expecting anybody returning to Shuttle Bay 22 today?"

"...No, I wasn't told of anybody coming back today, what's wrong?"

"I uh...think you'd better take a look at this, cap--uh, sir."

"Just 'sir,' Crewman. That's fine." I was looking past the "better take a look at this" line. If there was one thing I knew from my service career, it was that you'd always, always give your superior the Short Version when telling them something is wrong. If your Colonel had "better take a look at this", and it winds up being nothing, say hello to KP duty.

On the regional diagnostics monitor, the list of shuttle bay doors didn't show much of interest, at least, nothing terribly out of the ordinary. Half of them had broken down years ago while the other half only worked sometimes. Bay 22, as the crewman had said, was jammed half-open. ..and someone had signaled the alarm from there.

The crewman nervously spoke up. "I, uh, told the repair crew to standby. Should I send them down?"

"Negative, Crewman, belay that repair. If they're not one of ours, I'd much like to go meet them."

Ingram proved extremely valuable to have aboard. Despite being trapped in his ship due to not having any evac gear on hand, he was able to advise the repair crew on how to bypass the bay doors. This knowledge extended to maintenance and upkeep, and more importantly jury-rigging. Ingram was soon brought aboard, with the rest of his squad, as consultants to help make the Orenomah more capable.

As it came to pass, Ingram made fast friends with Virgil. He'd been just as disillusioned with violence as Virgil was, coming from a background on Earth as he wished to make a living as a merchant trader. He'd fallen into debt with pirates after a few disastrous deliveries left his ship stranded, but he'd opted to join them in service.

This page is pretty unfinished. Weasel plans to get to it eventually. Probably.