You are an experienced pilot, able to navigate through dangerous environments and execute precision maneuvers. You may have learned to fly from your parents or other family members, or you may have been drawn to the thrill of piloting through other means.
If you have the Core Pilot legacy, you know your way around the cockpit of any aircraft. You have been exposed to various types of flying machines, from atmospheric shuttles to interstellar fighters, and have a natural affinity for handling them with ease. Whether it was from growing up around pilots or working odd jobs that required you to be behind the controls, you have a basic understanding of flight dynamics, navigation, and operating flight instruments.
You have a daredevil's spirit and enjoy pushing the limits of your craft, performing stunts and maneuvers that leave others in awe. With your knack for evasive maneuvers, you can dodge enemy fire and avoid obstacles with ease, making you a hard target to hit. But sometimes your desire for thrills can lead you to take unnecessary risks, or your claustrophobia can get the best of you in tight or enclosed spaces.
Choose one of the following skill boons.
A specialized flight suit designed for high-G maneuvers and extended space flights. It starts with basic pressure regulation but can be upgraded with enhanced life support and performance-boosting systems.
An advanced navigation system that helps plot optimal courses and provides real-time flight data. Over time, it can be enhanced to predict hazards and calculate complex multi-jump routes.
A personal memento that brings you confidence in the cockpit - could be goggles, a scarf, or a small trinket. Its sentimental value gives you an edge when things get tough.
The first ship you flew was a freight shuttle with a dead port thruster and a yaw compensation system that responded to inputs like a philosophical question it hadn't considered. You landed it sideways on a platform six metres too narrow, in crosswinds the ground controller described as "inadvisable." Your hands just knew.
The CORSEC patrol fired two warning shots across your bow. By the third, no longer a warning, you'd already rolled the ship behind the asteroid you'd been watching in your peripheral vision for the last forty seconds. Evasion isn't reaction. It's prediction.
The main display failed over the Anselm debris field. You flew on the backup instruments that nobody maintains because nobody expects to need them. Every gauge tells you something, and you speak the language fluently even when half the alphabet is missing.
Your uncle flew cargo on the Outer Veil routes and let you ride along from age eight. No nav-computer; he didn't trust them. You learned to navigate by beacon timing, stellar parallax, and gut. Ground-born pilots rely on instruments. You use yours as confirmation.