EVE Fiction

Command Deck, Forward Crew Quarters


The door slid shut cleanly behind him. Dim lighting and Amarrian architecture left his quarters particularly foreboding. The cramped space--the second largest quarters on the vessel--seemed barely able to fit a cot and desk inside it. A single lamp attached to the wall above his cot bathed the room in the faintest hint of golden light. It made his eyes hurt.

He let out a heavy sigh, and pulled at his uniform, unhooking a few of the buttons that kept his jacket tight around his chest. Too tight, he would complain, if it would've done any good. Pulling at the jacket again to give himself some breathing room, he made his way to the back of his luxurious lodgings, and tapped a switch on a wall panel. The door next to the panel, which mimicked the theme of the wall almost exactly, retracted and slid to the side, revealing a small washroom. Shower, sink, mirror... they all seemed too close together.

Leaning over the sink, he let out another sigh, and let one of his hands drift into it, triggering the motion sensor. Cold water rushed over his hand and into the depression. He leaned down further and splashed some onto his face. Standing upright, he looked himself over in the mirror. The lapel of his coat hanging lazily, the makings of a beard covering his cheeks, droplets of water finding their way to his chin, dropping onto his grey dress shirt.

Delen Yima. Commander Delen Yima, he thought to himself. It had only been a year since he left the Imperial Navy, barely a lieutenant at the time. Leaving the strict, militaristic traditions of serving Amarr Royalty to fight in some Capsuleer's private army seemed like a good idea at the time. It probably was, he thought. The pay was better, and he was immediately promoted to Commander after he signed the contract. Whether a promotion outside Empire military meant anything or not, he still wasn't sure. He surely hadn't counted on being shipped out to the edge of the universe when he signed on. Not even the edge of the known universe, fighting in some self-proclaimed Alliance's war, as some officers did when they entered Capsuleer service. But to the edge of the unknown universe. He still hadn't a clue exactly where he was stationed. Some uncharted system deep within a wormhole chain.

He grabbed a towel, and dried his face. Closing the door to the washroom behind him, he sat on his cot. Immediately, the light in his room brightened, and a low-pitched klaxon sounded, assaulting his ears. He stared at the wall across from him for a moment, the alarm throbbing in his ears. The ship's intercom sounded, silencing the alarms. Exaggerated chimes preceded the announcement--a relic of the vessel's Amarrian origins--signaling that it was a ship wide broadcast.

"All personnel to stations. This is not a drill."

The klaxons returned. Commander Yima stood up, rebuttoning his jacket. Muttering a few Gallentean curses, he strode out of his quarters.