A strange package was just delivered to the dock by a courier: a paint kit and some parts for the “Sidewinder MK I.” The sender is listed as “The Pilots’ Federation”—supposedly a gift for all licensed pilots.

P.S. The Chaff and Heatsink Launchers came in handy, though a two-ton Cargo Rack wasn’t included—I had to pick one up separately.

P.P.S. I think I know who the real sender is.

Chamberlain’s Rest, HIP 97950—a rare backwater. The system is run by the “Black Widow” faction: independent confederates on paper, but in reality, pirates and cutthroats.

Rumor has it, if you can earn their trust, there are ways to get ships unavailable at regular shipyards—for the right amount of ARX. I need to find a way in.

Just received my civilian pilot’s license. Honestly, I expected something more impressive. The entire process turned out to be almost disappointingly simple: fly in a prescribed circle in virtual space, perform a couple of basic maneuvers, stop, and hold position.

At the end, I faced off against a pair of tired and bored unmanned drones. There was no real sense of danger—a mere formality to verify basic combat skills. The final stage was a docking procedure, managed entirely by the ship’s computer. My role was limited to monitoring numbers scrolling across the interface.

In the end, the license was handed over by the instructor—someone clearly self-conscious about his “imperial accent”.

My three-year contract with the Special Operations Forces has ended. The last mission went smoothly—details omitted; they're classified for the next five years anyway. The journey back, however, wasn’t without surprises. The extraction pilot apparently decided that a steady stream of advice and war stories would ease my path to civilian life: tales of his first rifle, his first ship, and optimistic talk about the future “on the outside.” In the end, he landed at such an angle I was sure he’d scatter the ship and both of us across the tarmac—if the military ever had to take civilian pilot exams, they’d definitely fail. To be fair, my own civilian license test is coming up soon. Time to remember the difference between roll and pitch.

On the downside, I had to turn in everything—gear, tools, weapons, and documents. In exchange, the standard civilian starter pack: “Sidewinder MK I,” 250,000 credits in severance pay, a new name, and an expertly crafted civilian legend. Classic SOF veteran fare. At least they let me keep my blaster—it’s been with me since the academy. Now, according to the story, I'm a certified Search & Rescue Operator—no real field experience yet, since I’ve just graduated from the training courses (with honors, at least).

Still… Those were three great years. The staff psychologist strongly recommended I keep a journal for civilian life. So.

I am Fleur’Aimee. Or rather now—Commander Fleur’Aimee. My story begins here.