EVE Fiction

Moriarity looked at the chip with apprehension. A ‘gift’. He knew what it meant. More augmentation, more vomiting and more headaches. He still did not understand why he ‘needed’ to have an augmented memory and intelligence. Attributes, enhanced to take him where he wanted to go faster and surer.

The problem was he could not decide where it was he wanted to go. Back in his previous life such decisions were always arranged for him. After all, he had been poor and had to work constantly to maintain a simple life. Out here he was a newborn immortal, a member of the transhuman class known as Pod Pilots. He almost regretted his decision to plug himself into this new life. He spent most of his time sealed into a pod, sealed off from his past, from his present and the company of others. He had begun to loathe this new life of isolation and cold indifference.

He had spent forever in the new pilots’ training programme working out how to scan with probes. He was also deeply uneasy with the pure violence of his new surroundings. It seemed everything was hostile and that all around him, New Eden was at war with itself. It was as though the augmentations, the changes that came with those augmentations, had exaggerated the worst and best traits of humanity. Out here the pilots of New Eden were capable of heinous acts against each other. All in the pursuit of wealth and glory.

Then there was the actual flying. His spatial awareness before becoming a member of the immortal class had been poor. He had failed at almost every sport he had tried, his simplicity had meant he had not seen the need to be competitive. Yet here he was in a hyper competitive gladiatorial arena that demanded he show his prowess in the tools of war. He could take risks that others would not and he could see things they could not. He could lose one ship and almost without thinking or feeling he could just turn and buy another, like replacing batteries. But the fighting was not easy; he was struggling to overcome the ‘rats’, as his fellow pod pilots describe them, and his ‘agents’ responded to him with corporate detachment.

(Continued)

Thread moved to EVE Fiction section!

I dig it. It would have been nice if you would have mentioned what ship class it was tho =)

“I explained to you before that we should have bought a Rifter but you wouldn’t listen.” Fletcher glared at Moriarity across the table. Moriarity stared down at his glass. It looked half empty, it didn’t seem to matter much either way. Fletcher was always moaning, it was a complete mystery why he remained with the ship.

The situation was desperate. They had just failed to turn in their latest commission and would have to sell everything to be able to pay for this Rifter. They had some parts from the scrap they had looted from the wrecks in previous missions but altogether it was not looking good.

“Okay Fletcher we will buy a Rifter. Do you have any suggestions about how to fit it?”

Fletcher looked up his data pad and handed it over to Moriarity. ”This is the cookie cutter fit. They rave about it – you can even do level II’s in this boat.”

Moriarity took the pad, he knew before he looked much further than the Tech II guns that the fit was not going to work. ”Well for a start we can’t afford it, and secondly it will be impossible with my skills. We would be waiting three months for the training.”

“Ahh I forgot we are flying with a noob!”

(Continued)