In the pitch black expanse of space the stations lights stand out as a beacon of hope for the pilots searching for what some call home while other call it a pit stop. These space stations littered the galaxy offering endless opportunities for either the desperate or the daring. This station however had the glory of having the legendary freelancer Kilo-18 start his journey there. Kilo's ship was an old fighter from the late 65th century, it wasn't the best ship but for a new desperate freelancer it was more than he could've hope for.
He approached the station slowly letting his ship coast towards the stations airlock requesting landing permissions as soon as he entered the controlled flight zone. The ships manoeuvring thrusters glowed a soft electric blue with the occasional bright flicker from small course adjustments. The ships landing legs hissed down locking into position with loud metallic thuds, letting out a loud thud followed by rapid clinks from landing and locking the ship into place. The noise blended seeminglessly with the roar of advertisements, starship thrusters and the colossal markets.
The markets were filled with alien meats, herbs, spices and fruits that all came from different corners of the galaxy. The fragrance wafted around the station almost like a current in an ocean, the smells hit him with brutal intensity as he stepped out of his ships airlock onto the landing pad making it almost impossible to breath for a short while. The station had a wide variety of vendors nearby the landing pads that offered endless supplies and advanced technology for starships, rovers personal equipment and the contract broker. The first area mainly consisted of pilot's restocking their ships with very little of the stations general population seen.The market was the complete opposite, he had to weave between the crowds while being assaulted by the everlasting markets fragrants. It took far longer than he had hoped but he managed to make it to a viewing platform above the markets and landing zones, it was a true spectacle to see the constant flow of ships in a continuous cycle of landing and taking off before speeding out of the stations airlock. He sat there for hours watching before making his way back down to his ship.
The journey back from the viewing platform was just as brutal, finally making it out of the crowds he let out a deep sigh before coughing at the markets smell once again. The contract broker hall was filled to the brim with signs from different factions advertising endless contracts with few pilots willing to accept.
He wandered the hall taking in all of the contracts considering all of the potential dangers each could pose while simultaneously weighing risk against reward.
The contracts varied from simple courier contracts to lending aid in wars. With few credits to his name making a decision was far more difficult than he originally anticipated, after spending almost an hour going through most of the contracts he finally settled on a low risk courier contract. The payout was relatively low but it would still be plenty to cover basic supplies and accommodation, once the package had been loaded into his ship he prepared for lift off. The locks holding the ship down opened with a sharp hiss with slight metallic scraping, the ship whirred to life emitting a low hum as the system came to. The engines emitting a soft blue glow as they sat idling waiting for takeoff.
The traffic controllers gave the all clear once all of the ground crew had vacated the hazardous area.
"Kilo-18 you are clear for takeoff"
The ship's engines turned a blue-white as flames shot out scorching the landing pad. The ship lifted off with ease leveling out in line with the stations airlock, the ships main engines fired with tremendous force accelerating the ship out of Prospect station.