Vaga42Bond, when he served with the Human Space Fleet.

Vaga42Bond A full moon over the isolated world on a "dead end" of the Hyperspace Paths. Omar Galaxy. No sentient life had ever arisen there. No reason for Federal Protection Sectors. Only reason that it was settled was due to overcrowding in the other sectors of the galaxy. But that was what was good about the world here, at least for the eternal wanderer. The wind blew slowly, like a sigh, across the hilltop. The only sign of technology was a small Human Border Cruiser that had brought a mysterious, poorly dressed, lone, cloaked figure to this spot. He sat, in full lotus position, in the dim night light. "Yes," as he allowed a stray though to enter his meditation, "it is good." as he surveyed off into the distance. To the South-West, a tiny twinkling light was the only sign of civilization on this world. But it twinkled like the brightest star. He stood up, and standing beside his ship, looking, staring, searching at the alien sky above his out-of-the-way sanctuary.

He was a tall, though somewhat thin, Human, with normally brown eyes, thought the cybernetic focus system could change it if he so desired, but he preferred the same color as what his natural eyes would be, and he had raven black hair. He adjusted his uniform slightly. He, as true to his need to be on his own, was not wearing the standard BHG uniform. "Damn thing looked like those outfits on Star Trek, though on Brooke..." he thought to himself. He preferred a loose, yet not baggy flight jacket over a generic shirt and Levi's 5001 Star Trooper pants. And of course, the boots. G'd ol' heavy duty FungiLand boots.

Vaga42Bond had first arrived on this world while wandering the space lanes in his eternal travels. When he looked over the Scout Drone missions results, his heart was lightened a bit for the first time in many years. He was but a young man, in 20th century Earth age terms, about 20, but his mental scars and emotional drains had made he feel twice that. Perhaps, this was a world on which he could find refuge.

Vaga42Bond slowly stepped into his ship. It wasn't his best one, or favorite one, but it was good, dependable, and reliable. He sat down heavily into the pilot's chair. He then proceeded to pull a Optitronic Wire from his arm near his wrist and plugged himself directly into the ship. Cybernetics came with it's interesting benefits, such as the fact that it was almost completely impossible to steal a ship that had no control mechanisms at all. Refitting the ship had cost a pretty penny, but by doing so, Vaga42Bond was one of the handful of beings, though many were humans since they first developed it, in the Galaxy who could go to X. The highest level of the Mind-Machine interface, one where he became part of the ship in essence. Few beings went up to this level, since it was so risky, almost like a drugged state without emotions and intense clarity, but some used lower levels. The other option being manual control, which got exponentially difficult with more complex ships, such as the Fed Ult with it's seven guns and the Ik-Thorne Advance Carrier, with it's 400 drones. And of course, he had to get some of his Neural Grafting and Cybernetics to have been in the military, and to maintain a semi-normal life.

Since this was a simple peaceful lift off into Space before attempting a risky Skip Drive into Fed Space, he didn't go into Level X, but went into Level V, a far less oneness with his ship, but good enough for this trip. The ship slowly lifted off the ground and shot into orbit. From there, the Course Plotter picked the fastest path into Human Fed HQ, and began the dangerous, Error Storm riddled Skip Drive off into deep space.

This was one of his three personal ships he had, but oh, how he LOVED flying fighters. Ahh, a flashback... the Subspace Wars, when Humans first ventured into interstellar battle in tiny fighters, the thrill of his first ship, a Terrier with it's twin ion cannons... the Raider Wars, where he fought as a mercenary in many different fighters for all three factions.

A double sunset. Photo taken by Vaga42Bond on a visit back to his adopted homeworld.

Vaga42Bond, basically called Vagabond for short. A mystery, an unusual human. No true connection, no real attachments. He was a no name, homeless wanderer. He had no true permanent home, no identity, no trace. He would appear, stay a while, and leave like smoke in a light breeze. Never frequents any particular location, except a few favorite ports and his personal world. Some mutter the 42 has to do with failed attempts at love. Others say with hushed breath that it means the number of unknown regions he has traveled into. Some, the drunken, shout that it has to do with the times he has been a major part of a rebellion against tyranny and authoritarian governments. A lonely, cynical, and somewhat embittered man, yet kindly, in a strange way. The somewhat frequent jokes are cynical or mocking most form of authority. He joined BHG primarily to survive, yet is near fanatical in his duty and honor. Honor is one of the most important thing to him, honor and independence. His private retreat is on the planet upon which he built a school of higher learning, the University of Colonialism, Santa Barbara. His craving for knowledge has allowed him to build up a sizable private library on his ship and dwelling planetside.

Not even those who call him friend know who he truly is or why he carries a darkness with him.

Or what that darkness is.

Or that he even has a darkness.

Post "Glory Run", he is now hiding within "Nice Work If You Can Get It", waiting for a time to resurface, and assume his place.