EVE Fiction

Home was always a ship, ones he never chose to be on but lacked the opportunity for a decision in as well. However, his current-sequestered quarters lacked the freedom of space a ship provided and failed to lack that of the usual comings and goings a manned vessel festers. After having spent the majority of his life aboard one ship and another, the dim hums of both the vessels’ engines and the corridors’ activities neither bothered nor were enough to wake the man anymore.

No. Sounds were not an irritant. He had grown accustomed to them, arguably even dependent on them. He woke to their sounds, their assurance, the indisputable awareness that he still had his duties and responsibilities to maintain.

Forcibly, the boded man lifted himself on his elbows resting his weight on the cot in the closet-sized room he'd been waived to since a difference of opinion.

"The old adage didn't get its notoriety because it was easily interpreted within the square confines of any page it’s written on. It's a damn loop hole so you CAN get through it." Guns, which dictated the status quo on the other hand and contrary to the old societies, are lethal leverage in high security space.

But who was he to thwart personal risk. After all, everyone's entitled to his or her game.

His determined-fate still needed a few more results to synthesize. There was just too much at stake and the piddling emotions of a some isk fed and bred bureaucrat wasn’t going to terminate his own career-let alone his life’s endeavor.

I don’t care how much isk you’ve thrown around; concord licensing or PLEX profiteering won’t buy you the experience out there in NullSec, Nilly!

His internal lights began to flicker to life. Lights he thought, If you could call them that were two sunken fluorescents that needed replacing weeks ago. He looked up, winced at the disturbing flicker and loosed his lone pillow at it. It didn’t get any better as his newly preferred method of jump-starting it failed.

In fact, this time they just remained off.

“Perfect!” he grumbled to himself. Now I really gotta go see those mainheads.

The man threw his sheets to the side letting them fall to the floor at the crack between where his bed and the wall would meet. Often he uses the same space to hang a leg in the cooler air during those nights when even the frontier's enduring depths flare anxiety.

The floor was very cold, it always was with no surprises there. He stood from the bed stretching his arms high overhead letting his fingers slide across the now broken fixture. He wanted to punch through it, but needless to say he didn’t need to create any more unnecessary problems. He already had one meeting this morning due to his own shortsightedness, albeit still bearing relevance. . .

More on the blog if you're interested.

So anyone brave enough to read this thing or what?

Am looking for some thoughts, constructive ofc. I realize there may be some spots missing a little detail or a contextual bridge, but hey...it's a draft for frak's sake.


So, can I get any commenters? Hell, likes?

Thanks fellas!