Category : Personalities
You were born in the slums outside a large spaceport. You watched hundreds of people move through the spaceport every day. People from all walks of life, all strata of society. You watched and learned. Everyone had mannerisms, quirks, tells. You studied them as they moved through the spaceport and learned to mimic them. You knew that a lone, uneducated orphan could never get ahead and make it away from these slums. So you became someone else.
You quickly grasped the art of watching people’s reaction. You discovered an often overlooked characteristic: people see what they want to see and rarely question their assumptions. If you wore decent clothes, carried a briefcase and seemed terribly preoccupied, people assumed you were an executive. A worker in coveralls with a tool box was never questioned when walking in the back hallways of a starport.
You finally got an opportunity to test your conclusions. You scavenged a discarded flight suit and made repairs to it yourself. You steadied your nerves, then put on the suit and a winning smile. You walked onboard an off-world transport just as if you belonged. You were light-years from the system when they figured out you weren’t part of the crew. They handed you over to the authorities when they docked.
You were released with a warning; you hadn’t technically done anything illegal. You found yourself on a new world, at a new starport. It was depressingly like the one you had left behind. You spent time at an electronic documents center, pulling up technical manuals. A week later, you walked onto a new starship, fully conversant with in the interior cooling mechanics of large scale reactors. They didn’t figure out you weren’t really their newly assigned technician until you failed to show back for their next departure. You had already found something new to try.
You survived by bluff and guile. With a healthy dose of charm and native intelligence, you did more than survive: you thrived. You moved from system to system. Each new locale birthed a new identity. From construction works to financial institutions to entertainment networks, you fooled them all. You even spent six months once as starship pilot, where you received a top performance rating despite the fact that you never actually piloted anything.
When you heard of the trade competition to determine a new Star Tsar, you knew it would a challenge, but you were ready. You crammed stock reports and star charts for the latest information on routes. You went to a shipping company — the same company that owned the ship you first left on. You gave the best of credentials, using your old pilot competency reports. You dazzled them with your knowledge of shipboard systems from your time as a “mechanic.” By the time you finished your evaluation of the current trade markets, they were scurrying to sponsor you for the contest. You walked out with handshakes, congratulations, and a brand new starship. They had no idea who you were.
You are the Rogue. Who are you going to be tomorrow?