Out of Pod Experience

Laudenum moved into the bar with purpose. She had heard the list of items that Random would need and she thought she could accomplish most of it. She smiled and shook her head, damn if that blockhead wasn’t going to kill himself trying to pull this off. She made a mental note to buy him something nice for the effort. She walked up to the bar where Ish was surrounded by two large men. She clenched her fist, preparing for trouble until she heard the suited man clasp hands with a gigantic tattooed man. She heard, ‘I’m Random, Random McNally.’ And she slunk up behind him and threw an affectionate arm around his shoulders.

“Damn bro, you clean up good!” she beamed. “I haven’t seen you this shiny for a long time.” She sniffed deeply at Random's cologne. "Whoa, you broke out the good stuff!"

Random turned and smiled at Laudenum, then looked back at Sam. “Sam, this is Laudenum Hayes. She’s our ‘client’.” Sam nodded to Laud but her infectious smile caused a smirk to slip out. Only a little bit.

Random turned again to the red head. “You have the list of what we need?”

“Yep, “she said, tapping her head “got it all right here.”

“Well, get going!” Random scolded, “We’re on a time schedule.”

“I am the world’s best multitasker.” She said proudly, again beaming her mischievous smile.

“You are the world’s biggest scatterbrain.” Random responded dryly. Laudenum stuck her tongue out at the suited Matari and started to walk away when Random yelled, “You’re not ducking out of this. Get a makeover and the tightest skirt you own. Look professional, on the verge of naughty. And, we’ll need more women. If you have any friends…” he said, leaving the thought trail.

“I’m always naughty and I’ll see what I can do. Give me a couple hours.” she yelled back, picking up the pace to her work room.

"Lawyers?", said a smooth voice from behind the group. Random and the other turned around and saw Indahmawar Fazmarai, staring at them with a bemused smile.
"Maybe you dress like lawyers, but you look like a boarding party... you're so tall and wide that it would take two court rooms to fit you all in. And people would easily flee them if you just pointed at them with yoyur finger."
"What do you mean, Indah?", asked Random McNally.
"You look too inmitidating. You need someone that, huh, counterbalances your physical dominance..."
"Indah, don't you...", started saying Ishtanchuk, but Indahmawar switfly interrupted her:
"I do, ish. I don't have an active pilot license and have been missing all fun, and i think these Minmatar brutes could use a touch of Khanid delicacy"
"It may be dangerous, Indah", pointed Ishtanchuk
"I second that, things may get messy", seconded Random McNally.
"I think that it will get less mesy if someone in the gang doesn't looks like she's there to break some bones", smiled Indahmawar, innocently.

Random looked at her; certainly Indahamwar wasn't very impressive. Albeit she was taller than Ishtanchuk, she looked smaller, her thin, apparently fragile frame and her cute doll face making her look impossibly young even at 20-some. Then he looked into her pale green eyes and saw determination, but also fear... fear to be left behind, maybe?

"Well, I think...", started saying Random.
"You better take care of her", interrupted Ish.
"Rest assured, Ishtanchuk. OK, you're in, Indahmawar, but have only 5... err.. 10 minutes to dress up"
"You won't regret it!", said Indahmawar, her smile shining like a second sun, and then she rushed upstairs, going up the steps two at a time.

(meta: my little cousin wants some action, but all in all she still thinks that she can play the princess...)

Sam made a few mental notes about what was needed and what he needed for his suit. He had to conciously stop himself from following Laudenum with his eyes when she left. "Too close to home" he thought to himself.

"I have a few things that need attention before we leave" Sam checked the time on his Data Pad and set a countdown timer
"I'll be back here and ready to leave in three hours"

Sam made his way to his room and sat on his bed, opposite was a set of drawers which matched the decoration of the rest of the room. He tapped his data pad, and the drawers rose up revealing another, deeper drawer which opened with a hiss revealing a small weapons cache. He tapped a code onto the glass panel covering the weapons which retracted upon the correct code being entered.

Sam Smiled like a child who had just killed his parents. "this will do nicely" he remarked.

He picked up a foot long blade and moved it over to his cybernetic arm, which met the blade with a coupling device on the inside of his wrist and drew it inside. He then immeadiately tested the mechanism and it extended the blade out with lightening speed, then drew it back.

he picked up a pair of shoulder holsters and the two plasma pistols intended for it, then placed those in a small secure case along with a few short knives and blades.

He had saved his favourite for last, a foot long Composite nano-tube Glaive. He took it in his hand and merely thought about it, and it sprung into life becoming 8 feet long, and when he thought again it re-alligned the nano-tubes forming a blade at one end. Then as quickly as it had appeared, it was now a foot long again. again he placed it in the case and locked it tight, then made way for the tailor.

Sam gave the small elderly achuran tailor a rather tall order, not just because he was nearly twice as tall as him, but because of the time frame and the specs he had asked for. It would take a small miracle to make a suit in that time frame anyway, but one that concealed several weapons not just visually but from scanners, allowed him to fight with ease but also look fitted enough to pass as a high grade lawyer.

With ten minutes to spare Sam walked through the Bar doors in his brand new suit weapons concealed and all, even he had to admit he was looking Smart with his beard trimmed short.

"So... How do i look?"

(continued)

"What's this?", she asked
"This is our "War Thunder" simulation, a very popular one. There you pilot primitive combat airplanes, firing kinetic and explosive ammunition from machineguns. The airplanes are propelled by internal combustion engines and propellers and fly solely on aerodynamic effects. Now you are in semi-immersion mode, were you can feel and experience, but your body is not attached to the body inside the simulation. You can move to full simulation at will, but be warned, the interface will be gone and you will be there in every sense but the physical body"
"Ok, let's go..."

Ish just wished it, and then... she WAS there. The machine (airplane!) still was noisy, but now she weighted more, the parachute under her butt was uncomfortable, the air from the mask was cold and dry and the bloody stick moved on its own and she struggled to keep it still.

"What the...?"
"Aerodynamics, Ms. Fazmarai, the machine is hit by air and moves on its own, so you must keep control continuously"
"Oh my...", said Ish, grining.

She struggled with the controls, but she understood that she needed to learn to fly the machine... actually learn to actually fly it, as the simulation was perfect and unlike anything she had experienced before. She figured that a red trigger was what controlled the weapons... she pulled it and was startled by the loud noise of machineguns firing on both wings; the whole airframe vibrated as the weapons fried and she could see red tracer bullets arching before her.

"Holy sh*t!", she laughed.
"Would you like to test some combat against a robot, Ms. Fazmarai?"
"What are the chances that I die horribly?"
"Above 90%"
"Ok, bring it on!"

And there it was, a dark mote of dust which suddenly began growing... then something flashed on it and Ishtanchuk saw tracers flying towards her airplane and instinctively turned away... but she understood a little too late that that was a mistake. The tracers corrected their leading and suddenly the whole world exploded around Ish as her airplane shacked and cracked, and then suddenly she felt a thump on her torso and there was blackness.

"What...?"
"You died, Ms. Fazmarai"
"Wow, that was fast!"
"It's a tricky simulation... "
"But it is fun, for sure. I understand why people loves this"

Several simulations later, Ishtanchuk was convinced. The system wasn't cheap and each simulated world was sold separately, but the potential of it was inmense. She wondered how could commonners design such sophisticate interfaces for capsuleers, creating whole new worlds instead of the usual combat interface from which the capsuleers exercised true power in the real life. And those worlds were incredibly fun, like the ultimate videogames...

Back at the spaceport, she still smiled remembering the experiences with the virtual reality device. Then she undressed and plugged herself to the pod, and for a split second, she wondered, what if it was a simulation too? How could she tell reality from fiction when it was being fed into her brain? But the answer was simple. No commoner could simulate the voice of the pod, the... way... it fed stimuli into the brain. Some capsuleers would swear that each pod had its own voice, and certainly Ish could assure that ships had a disctinct identity, and some of them were nasty, like those from Sansha ships. Then Ish became a starship, more than a machine or a human, and launched from the hangar, ascending along the assigned path and into orbit. She had to adress some more matters at the station before going back home and announce that The Greater Fool Bar was getting a virtual reality room...

Meta :Take all the time you need, RL has to come first after all.

The falling (part one)

*One month earlier*

A luxurious office decorated in trendy style and fashionable colors. Two men. One of them was seating on an armchair, the other in a luxurious and comfortable but slightly lower chair.

"Look at the recording", said the man in the armchair. By them, a holographic scene was displayed, grainy and with poor resolution as it had been filmed by a cloud of diminutive voxel cameras. The scene showed a uninspiring office, fitted with cheap furniture. A plain looking Gallentean woman was seating and welcomed a short and beautiful Khanid woman.

"My apologies for the office. I barely use it, actually", said the recorded Gallentean woman.
"Never mind, I understand this is not the usual procedure. You agents and we capsuleer grunts barely meet each other", answered Ishtanchuk Fazmarai, capsuleer.

The recording continued for a few minutes, and then the scene disappeared. The man at the armchair spoke again:

"There you have her, that's the Fazmarai b*tch who's been funding the zombies."
"Have you been watching her, Aurunel?"
"Yes. It was pretty convenient that we could use that interview to start tracking her. We have some more material and I will give it to you, but I guess you will appreciate this one..."

Another image was projected, this time a plain photograph, obviously taken with a large telephoto. The man at the chair smirked, as the photograph pictured a pod platform, and a missing screen allowed to see a nude woman about to climb into a pod.

"Heh, nice one..." The man leaned forward to look closer at the image, then whistled: "Jee-sus, just look at those t*ts... that b*tch could have a career at a pleasure hub!"
"I was sure you would appreciate that... but fun aside, she's been quite an issue lately".
"Well, I figured you wouldn't call me for nothing... what was?"
"The Gros Cochon; one of their teams was stupid enough to try and shoot that wh*re and two other eggers, and they ended with their brains splattered. The eggers fled, of course, but now there's several station police services messing with the Frères. And we know that the zombies are behind it."
"But, they're true Sanshas?"
"Who cares? They're messing with our business, drawing attention on us with money supplied by that ho'".
"Sad story, but why should we care? Let the frères have their asses f*cked for free for a change".
"See, that would be a good plan, if she wasn't sitting in one of our stations."
"Wait...? How's that?"
"Do you recall Erehwon? That system where The Vieux wanted us to set up some legal business?"
"Oh yes... we started a lawyer's office there, didn't we?" -the man at the chair laughed loudly, bemused by the thought.
"Yes, exactly. And an office after another, we eventually moved there most of our "legal" division. Including accounting."
"Accounting? But, why?"
"Because we had everything else there, dammit! And it was a stupid backwater system where nothing happened until those bloody eggers appeared!"
"And the zombies?"
"The zombies are moving in too. With money from that Fazmarai b*tch. We don't know why she's funding them, as we must keep a low profile at that station. But it's time that we push back the zombies."
"Eventually... you want me to find someone and pay a visit to that girl? Does she live there?"
"She moves a lot, but she's got a bar and a night club. Just those are not suitable targets; either she haves a hellish intuition or we ran out of luck, but currently the bar is defended by two tough guys."
"Meh! Tough guys! I sell you a dozen!"
"Yes, tough guys. Heron in person warned me to not mess with the barman there, and the other guy is a weirdo who just spent 10 years with the Baby Janes."
"Nom de dieu!"
"Exactly. The station and the establishments are off bounds. But we need to send that wh*re a message so she stops breastfeeding the zombies."
"Send her a message... you want one of the chiens?"
"Absolutely not. They could be traced back to us. Just find some suitable people and I'll pick the one I want."
"I know some who could just beat her a bit if that's what you want..."
"Just give me names. Maybe we could use a crotte, someone nobody cares about".
"When you need it?"
"Anytime... next week, maybe".
"OK. Transfer me the raw files, will you?"
"Of course".

Then both men kept talking for a while, asking about their families and other more pleasant topics. Once the meeting ended, the man at the chair walked to his own office, disguised in old fashioned style as if it was an old reputable office... which it was, beyond most of the doors. Some legal cover was necessary to profit from crime without paying for it. Alone at his private office, the man reviewed the content of the files provided, and then opened a encrypted line and waited for an answer.

"Agale?"
"Oui?"
"I am Jean. I need a replica girl. Here I send you the details on the target. I want a perfect match of her t*ts. Must be Khanid and preferably short. And a juicy pu**y as usual."
"How young?"
"The target is 30-some, that should do if she's not too wasted. Younger if needed but professional. And listen well: I want the same t*its, can you see the stuff?"
"Houm... wouldn't be difficult, but you want a Khanid. Is that because of the skin?"
"Yes, I said exactly, must totally look like that b*tch."
"Give me 48 hours. Would you want fake plugs on her back?"
"Yes, probably yes... Will be a nice touch".

At the other end of the line, Agale, a professional madame specialized in providing "replica girls" who looked exactly like whoever the client would like to have sex with but couldn't, quickly started the different searching procedures that would find some prostitute, somewhere, that matched the characteristics of the "target". Then, she routinely warned the Ashtantan Cult that someone had asked for a replica girl of some unknown capsuleer called Ishtanchuk Fazmarai.

(continues)

(continued)

Uriel Tracomande panicked, not any less. He knew that things could turn ugly unexpectedly when dealing with capsuleers, but right until then everything had been perfect. He had been assured that the Fréres would protect him and thank him with a role at the organization, and all he had to do was to not spoil it. As he had been instructed, he waited until getting a signal. Then he turned around the corner and walked towards the woman, a beautiful but short Khanid wearing a white dress. She was alone and passed by Uriel without even looking at him, as expected. She also didn't did anything as he stopped some 10 meters away, breathed deeply and pulled a silenced gun out of the service bot's tools bay. Desiring that it was over already, Uriel aimed carefully at the back of the woman's head and pressed the trigger... and then the woman moved incredibly fast and plummeted to the ground, avoiding the bullets.

"Combat implants!", Uriel thought to himself, and he panicked, thinking that she would turn around and kill him before he could even react unless he was very lucky and could fire fast enough... not aiming, just pressing on the trigger before that implanted b*tch could react again.

Isthanchuk Fazmarai landed on all fours, and despite her relatively small weight, it was a hard landing. She heard the strange clicking behind her and didn't minded it as she pushed herself up, standing on her knees, and then something struck her back with a inhuman force. The first blow was followed quickly by several hits more. A furious pain exploded deep in her chest and her right breast and Ishtanchuk heard more of the weird clicking, and she realized, terrified, that she was being shot at.

Uriel Tracomande had fired in panic, and barely was aware that he had pressed the trigger five times when he saw the woman collapse forward after beginning to stand up. She shouted in pain.

Ish shouted in pain and suddenly lost her breathe. The pain on her chest and her breast was no the only one; something was wrong with her torso and her shoulder, but those pain signals blurred compared to the ones from her right side.

Uriel saw the impacts and even noticed how the last ones hit the floor after piercing the woman's chest. He had managed to score five hits out of five shots, scattered on her upper body. He figured that he still had a chance, if she hadn't been able to avoid those shots...

Ishtanchuk gasped, tying to fill her lungs, but barely managed to increase the pain from her chest. The realization of being attacked sent adrenaline pumping into her veins and she started fighting for her life. In what seemed a desperately slow movement, she stood on her left arm, looking for her purse with the right arm, and turned her head to look at her attacker over her shoulder.

Uriel aimed, not minding his shaky hands, and fired three times more. He was pleased when he saw the woman's head shake violently and how she collapsed to the floor for the third time.

Ishtanchuk saw three flashes with the corner of her eye, and something buzzed by her as she looked over her left shoulder. Then something hit her neck and almost simultaneously her mouth exploded in a mess of shattered teeth and blood. The commotion made her lose her stand on her arm and she landed on the floor as all sensation from the left side of her face disappeared. A small corner of her brain figured that she had suffered some massive trauma and pain was blocked by an extra dose of natural painkillers. Struggling to breathe through the blood coming up her throat and now flooding inside her shattered mouth, Ish prayed desperately to be able to grasp her purse before it was too late. Sensing the handle of the purse in her hand, she turned her torso and raised her right arm, despite it felt very heavy and the pain from the move made the world turn black and red before her eyes.

Uriel saw how the woman tried to roll around, and suddenly she raised her purse. He found it comical; maybe she thought it was an assault for her purse? But he had had enough. The blood was staining her white dress and she looked horrible after he had hit her jaw rather than her brains. Uriel closed in and aimed at her forehead. It was a pity, he thought as he noticed how she had some nice large boobs. Then he saw that something was wrong with the oversized handle of her handbag, and then he died before his brain could process what happened next.

Ishtanchuk Fazmarai looked for the trigger concealed at the handle; its baroque design hid the latest and more miniaturized version of a thermal peacemaker, a illegal portable WMD for the self-defense of capsuleers against crowds. Inside the handle, a small energy cell drove all its energy into a shield, which was automatically configured to shelter Ish. The actual warhead, barely larger than a hazelnut, was ejected from a diminutive gimbal and separated half a meter from the shield before detonating. Inside it, a small cloud of anti-hydrogen was directed by a decaying magnetic field against a similar amount of hydrogen. The positrons and anti-protons clashed on electrons and protons and annihilated each other in a massive burst of gamma rays. The gamma rays then hit the lenses around the core; each gamma ray was absorbed by an electron, driving it away but not before cascading into other electrons, accurately aligned in the lenses' metamaterial. That way, each quanta of gamma ray was slowed down and cascaded into a larger amount of smaller infrared quanta. With most of the energy from the matter-antimatter annihilation turned into infrared radiation, the outside of the shield became a very hostile environment.

(continues)