Mimi settled into her co-captain's chair with a long, content sigh. Mimi had felt she belonged in space since she was a very little girl and watched a spacefaring vessel take off towards the stars for the very first time. It was her earliest memory, but she could remember it like it was yesterday. Pulling on her very patient father's hair and pointing up towards the glorious burn of the rockets. Now, the tigress was proud to say, she had her very own starship.
Even though there were many more powerful ships in the galaxy, there was always a 'bigger fish', the tigress still felt at great peace when aboard their mighty starship. In a life that could so often feel hectic and out of anyone's control, flying aboard her starship made her feel self-assured, like the master of her own destiny. When standing on the bridge, she liked to think of herself as the queen of space itself as they flew their ship, named BW-69, towards their next mission. It was reassuring and relieved more stress than any trip to the spa or a therapist.
Yet, this feeling of peace came at odds with the great danger they were in, dangers that Mimi knew full too well. A failure in a half a dozen sensitive, extremely complex parts could lead to an instant yet gruesome death. Every space hand that Mimi had ever met called space "The Black" for good reason, although none seemed sure where the term had come from. Mimi figured that was because every astronaut had a different relationship with, they all had their individual memories and tragedies. The faces of comrades made and all too often comrades lost. Even Mimi, with her love of the stars, felt the coldness in that inky darkness outside their hull. Almost menacing with all the space hands it had thoughtlessly taken. Even as she was wrapped in her electric blanket, a steaming mug of coffee carefully perched on her command console, she felt a little cold staring out into it. When help could be thousands of lightyears away and seconds could matter, space travel was not only dangerous, but could feel very cold and lonely, even when with a crew.
Luckily, Mimi wasn't alone and she never felt alone thanks to Damien! Sure, the conditions outside their ship were harsh and unforgiving, that seemed to make her ship feel all the more cozy. A great big metal cocoon she liked to think of it as, even if 'cozy' might strike some as a strange description for a forty-two thousand ton warship, but it was their warship and Mimi loved it.
The vessel had been a gift from Damien's father, a very generous gift it had to be said, even if it only was given to them after his company was finished with it.
Black Wing Security Solutions was a mercenary group that liked to hide that fact as much as possible behind as much marketing fluff and legal red tape. BWSS operated a huge star fleet that rivaled and indeed surpassed many governments in the galaxy. Matter of fact, several star ports had given up providing their own security and had instead contracted the job of patrolling their territory to Black Wing instead. Jahar Sr. was famous, or perhaps more accurately infamous, around the galaxy. But of the many things that were said about him, half-assing was never one of them. Every ship his company ordered came equipped with the best, most cutting edge technology he could get his hand on. So even though their ship was 15 years old, and most ships of its age were either due for substantial up-fitting or retirement, BW-69 was still lightyears ahead of what most independent captains like Damien could afford on their own.
The biggest problem with their vessel, in Damien's opinion, was the name. Their hull still carried the same designation as when it had flown as a troop transport ship for the private army. BW69, for the 69th hull flown under the Black Wing colors. Damien desperately wanted to change the name. For one, he felt it lacked creativity for an explorer's ship. Secondly, he wasn't exactly thrilled to have the name of his company on the side of his vessel, even if he and his father were on good terms he was attempting to cement a legacy of his own. Mimi, however, had wanted to keep the name. As a rule the tigress wasn't superstitious, believing that any space pilot who depended on 'good luck' to conquer the black was doomed. She did believe that a pilot could make his own 'luck' at times, and subscribed to the old seafarer's myth that changing the name of a ship was bad luck.
Perhaps she was right, there were many blockades they had passed right through once their opposing force saw the name Black Wing. The organization's fearsome reputation preceding them, even with only tenuous ties to the company. It didn't hurt the ship hadn't just kept the name from its old owner. All the military grade sensing equipment and weaponry was still aboard as well. It was a few years out of date and would be unlikely to put up much of a fight against a modern warship, but it was still way better than any pirate ship could bring to battle. In conclusion, the BW69 was fast, powerfully armed, and surprisingly luxurious for a battle wagon, it even had low lightyears on the odometer. Its dark hull flew like a shadow among the stars and made Mimi and Damien feel powerful, and it was an addictive feeling.
Mimi and Damien used the power of their ship to its full advantage, funding their explorations to find the forgotten and unknown, by working as an overly armed cruise ship. They had taken a small loan to remodel the old troop carrier's berths into more luxurious accommodations. They used their muscle to fly into areas that others weren't brave enough, or too smart, to fly to. Bringing cargo and people into war zones, pirates infested pace, and completely uncharted territory. At least, in theory. Most of the people who chartered their services were boring old rich people who had conned themselves into thinking they were too important to fly commercial, or even one of the more mainstream charters.
Babysitters for the rich, powerful, and often delusional was hardly the career path either of them had wanted, but they could have done worse. Their business provided a good flow of credits, money which they desperately needed to support their true passion, archeology, and allowed them to see part of space they would have never seen otherwise. Their last voyage, for instance, had been ferrying an 18-year-old girl and all her friends to the Four Seasons Armstrong that took up one of the 4 moons that orbited Base Armstrong. Her parents had paid three hundred thousand dollars plus expenses to fly her such a short distance, their engines hadn't even gotten warm. Then Mimi and Damien got to spend a long weekend basically on vacation in a resort they never could have afforded on their own, some of their scarier and more intimidating crewmen as bodyguards for the client. The hardest part had been mooring their massive battleship among the tiny personal spacecraft in the pathetically tiny spaceport attached to the hotel.
Now they were using those not-so-hard earned credits to go on their latest exploration.