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EVE Fiction

 
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NSUP Shortstory Competition

Author
Dalilus
Federal Navy Academy
Gallente Federation
#21 - 2011-09-19 00:06:41 UTC  |  Edited by: Dalilus
Running Scared.

Dangerously empty space green in hue with dark brown dust "clouds" in the background surrounds me with no one in the whole 0.6 system of Aere except Serpentis belt rats, the closest one 4.2 AU away, and I am scared. Wayward Mynx, that marvel of versatility and unpredictability, also known as the Republic Fleet Typhoon is my spacefaring chariot - loaded Caldary Navy Cruise Missile Launchers await orders to fire, the capacitor is fully charged ready to power the active armor tank; shield, armor, and hull all at 100%, a drone bay full of Federation Navy Ogres and Hammerheads keep company a flight of five Republic Fleet Warriors, and still I cringe. Eighty million skill points worth of sub capital combat skills are safely tucked away in a Sigma grade clone at the Republic Military School in Ammould and a link to a well padded kill board in the bio is my presentation card - but dread causes little rivulets of sweat to run down my back.

I was all alone in that encroaching void called open space - no one on corp chat, no one on alliance chat, no one on local, no Sansha, no fleet, only nothingness to outrun - disorientation, nausea, adrenaline and anxiety keep me company. I am alone with myself and feel a sudden full-fledged panic attack upon me……I have lost faith in my abilities, smarts, guts, and tritanium encapsulated nerves. I momentarily lose faith and control of myself. The almost 2 billion isk in my wallet are of little consolation when the pungent stench of animal fear permeates the room.

If only belt rats would smack talk on local, or a meteor would slam against the hull… The void grins and closes in faster, it loves humiliation and despair.

It circles the warping Typhoon thoughtfully, watching me through 1600mm reinforced rolled tungsten armor plates and then effortlessly strolls into my soul. Would it find me worthy to fly within its domain? Will I be found lacking compared to others it has possessed? Will it take souvenirs on the way out? The core of my angst is the Mammoth sized storage space inside a skull full of implants, inadequacies, childhood fears, failings, deeply rooted feelings of ineptitude, regrets of badly handled situations, friends lost, squandered once in a lifetime opportunities, and of shady, shameful past deeds that came out to haunt me when I feel lonely. That moment of weakness was what the void hungered and reveled in. Clone jumping did not help….body and skills changed but the baggage inside a skull stays the same.

I know, I tried.

Please God, any God or deity in the immediate vicinity or vastness of EVE send someone to keep me company, send someone to occupy my mind and senses so that I don’t dwell on who I am. I beg you, any of you, to accept a prayer from an incomplete, immature, amoral, darkish in nature, non religious, Godlike capsuleer who is afraid of being by himself staring into the void because that soul mirror does not lie, does not deceive, does not exagerate, but only shows truth. The truth was I liked my immortal, perverted self less than I let on and hated the void for throwing it in my face.

As the panic attack subsides my jack hammering heart slows down, beads of sweat evaporate off my forehead and between deep breaths I begin to relax. Starting on the next trip I vow to always carry some spiced wine, tobacco, Quafe, and exotic dancers in stasis along with an ample supply of drugs inside a small warded container in the cargo hold, just in case. While collecting my wits I ponder, should I jump four systems over to Ignebaener and get a level 4 mission from Federal Intelligence Office agent Bique Darelimes or switch to a pvp fit Hurricane and pick a fight in 0.4 Lisbaetanne or stay where I am and join one of the noob Help chat channels to connect to someone. Anyone.

Anything. Before it comes looking for me.

Again.

...............

Oblivious to my turmoil Wayward Mynx warpes on.
Mortrius
Reckless-Endangerment
Manifesto.
#22 - 2011-09-19 03:34:42 UTC
Redemption


Redemption. It was a cry from the emptiness that was his heart. It was always a word at the back of his mind, a whisper in his ears. It was a light in the darkness, but like a shadow it always slipped away, just before he could grasp it.

For years, Rytaran had walked the path of a pirate. A murderer and thief, he walked the stars, searching for lost souls to devour, innocent lives to massacre; and there was always that word: redemption, a dim wish that lingered for all those long years of darkness. He continued to question his actions, continued to hear the whispers, and one day, when all had gone wrong, his ship destroyed, his pod exploding, something happened.

A mistake was made. Upon waking at the cloning facility, everything was a blur. He vomited, screamed, and collapsed as his mind turned against itself, tearing away at the place that reality and dream had become intertwined. There was no familiarity to the body he was in, no comforting thought of the immortal life he led, but fear: the fear of rebirth, of cold, of all he once knew suddenly vanishing in the fire that had consumed his capsule. The fire that had consumed his past life. He was a mistake. He was now Mortrius, a chance at redemption his to hold.
Lelith Hellebron
#23 - 2011-09-19 06:36:37 UTC  |  Edited by: Lelith Hellebron
The Gank

Highlander drifted lazily toward the wreckage, energy sweeping over the Drake's angular exterior as shield power relays strained to recuperate from a whirlwind of destruction. The white star Ofstold beamed brightly in the distance, illuminating clouds of debris and shattered hulls that a fusillade of missiles had left behind. An eerie calm had settled over the pocket in the wake of battle, belying the tumult within the starship: Inside, she resonated with the sounds of frantic post-sortie activity - engineers argued briskly about capacitor demands, reloading racks whirred and clanked as they fed the ravenous array of launchers, and the thrusters sent vibrations through the entire vessel.

Floating in the protective embrace of her pod, Highlander's captain could hear none of it. On occasion - usually after a particularly taxing mission - Lelith Hellebron would disengage from the ship, withdrawing her conscious back into her own flesh and blood, to gather herself. During these moments of quiet reflection, all she could percieve were her thoughts and her heartbeat.

A soft red glow interrupted Lelith's calm. Unaccustomed to it, it took her a moment to rememeber what it was; a warning light on the inside of the capsule had been activated and was shining through her closed eyelids, transforming the usual darkness of semi-consciousness into a dim and ominous crimson. Weaving her mind back into the ship, Lelith quickly located the culprit; her overview was picking up an incoming capsuleer flagged with a criminal security status. Her heart raced - they were in a deadspace pocket in the middle of nowhere.

Definetly a pirate.

Lelith picked the first beacon she could and urged the warp core to engage. Unfortunately, Highlander was not an agile vessel, and aligned excruciatingly slowly. A Drake, Ion, came screaming out of warp twenty kilometers astern and was aquiring Highlander before it had even bled off its residual velocity. Lelith, heart sinking as she realized there was little hope of warping to safety, prepared to defend her ship and crew to a bitter end. She had never squared off against another capsuleer before, much less one piloting the same hull as her. Despairing for only a moment over Highlander's substandard launchers, she activated the hardeners. If she had an edge, it would come from her battlecruiser's superlative shielding technology and cutting-edge drones, a wing of fully augmented Hobgoblin II's.

The moment the interloper achieved lock, Highlander's warp field collapsed. Lelith was scrambled and stranded. As the first Heavy Assault Missiles streaked toward them from the pirate vessel, its captain's condescendingly silky voice slithered over the comm.

"Fifty million and you're free to go" Shizraak sleazed. Lelith knew from hard won experience in the belts and ice fields that such an ambitious ransom was not a good indication of an intentent to honor it, and she briefly wondered if there were pilots foolish enough to pay more than the value of their ship. Fierce missile impacts snapped her back into focus. She had also learned that diplomacy was a potent, if unreliable, weapon; perhaps this Shizraak could be bargained with. If Lelith was going to try reason, though, she'd need to buy some time to do it - Highlander's shields were evaporating alarmingly fast. She had to reduce the incoming damage by taking out Shizraak's drones.

"Sadly," Lelith said with the most regretful inflection she could muster, "my lousy Drake isn't worth quite that much" She thought for a moment, then lied. "Not that I could even afford to pay it if she was."

"How about ten million up front, and fifteen after you warp out?" Lelith asked, still undecided if she'd pay in full if Shizraak let her off for ten. Finally, Highlander locked Shizraak's drones, and she began to pick them off while the pirate considered her offer.

"Fifteen now, ten after" Shizraak countered, pointedly. Lelith couldn't be sure, but her tone seemed less confident. She wondered if Shizraak had noticed her drones disappearing. As the last drone erupted, Lelith turned the batteries and Hobgoblins against Ion itself, though she didn't expect them to accomplish much against the renowned shielding of a Drake. Indeed, Highlander's own shields had crept down to 36%, where they had stabilized despite the punishing barrage they were enduring.

"I've no reason to believe you won't pocket the fifteen and sink me anyway, but you may play by the rules if the lion's share of the sum is dependant on my safety" Lelith stalled. If she could drop Ion's shields below 33%, the maximum efficiency threshold, Highlander might survive. If not, they'd be deadlocked until Shizraak called in support. Both pilots watched in tense silence as Ion's shields were battered down to 35%. After a full minute, however, it became clear they were going to hold.

Reluctantly, Lelith exhausted her last option, and overheated her missile bays.

Slowly, Ion's shielding inched below 33% while Highlander's launchers tore themselves apart delivering a hail of missiles. Lelith reined them in just shy of total malfunction, and waited to see if Ion would recover with its shields at thirty percent.

Twenty-nine percent. Twenty-eight.

"I tire of this. I'll allow you to depart" Shizraak spat, finally breaking the long comm silence. Her voice was laden with a mix of shame and impotent fury. As Ion began to align for warp, its shields gave out completely and Highlander's Heavy Scourge missiles began to shred the pirate vessel's armor with vicious impacts.

"Aweful kind of you" Lelith replied with all the tact of a humbled Amarran noble. Deep in the heart of Highlander, however, a malicious grin tugged at the edge of the captain's unconscious lips as she activated her own scrambler.

[i]I am a leaf on the wind... Watch how I soar![/i]

Seamus Techton
Sebiestor Tribe
Minmatar Republic
#24 - 2011-09-19 13:15:30 UTC
Just a short one from me:

Coulee's Veil - part 1

Not quite as short as, "I was there", but short enough.
Triggadex
Grim Dawn
#25 - 2011-09-19 14:56:23 UTC
Hard to be a Miner

“That will be 212 million ISK thank you Sir”, “Your lucky there are no other Hulks in the outer rim” Kola looks over to his Personal Captions Bot (PCB) Whistler. “Whistler transfer 212 million ISK to the ORE Corporation would you” Kola takes a glance at Whistlers display to see how low his wallet is and if he will have enough ISK from the last Mining Operation to charge the capacitor on his replacement mining barge.

“Transfer the ship to hanger A3-2 so I can get out of this station before it costs me more ISK” Kola asks the ORE merchant. “I will once the credits clear” snapped the merchant. Kola’s eyes tighten, his fists clench and taking two steps forward Kola replies “You just saw me transfer the credits, if you don’t process the order to transfer the ship to my hanger we are going to have a problem that won’t get sorted out in Battleships, understand?” Kola’s wrist knife slides from the right sleeve of his leather jacket landing on the tip of his index finger just so the merchant could see and not the others in the market. “Oh… look the credits cleared” the merchant jitters while tapping frantically on his PDA.

“Come on Whistler we still have to get new crystals and drones before the Hulk gets here, and send a message to Dex and let him know to meet us on the Oulley gate” Kola softy mutters to the PCB and slides the knife back into his sleeve with little effort.
After filling the new Hulk with all manner of mining equipment Kola walks into the Captions Quarters with Whistler following just behind, Kola’s looks over to the three monitor display and thinks to himself “I wish they wouldn’t put that in every room I don’t even use it” Kola turns to Whistler “Transfer yourself to the new Hulk Whistler I will be on board shortly” Whistler beeps a few times as if in frustration. “Oh right name the Hulk, Tomorrow, now go” Whistler moves to the wall next to the door, at once all of the PCB’s lights dim as if it was lifeless.

With Kola now secured inside the Hulk he takes a moment to gather his thoughts and checking the primary systems. “Whistler, launch program” Kola requests while flicking switches on the dash. As the ship starts to come to life Kola says “Whistler open a channel to Station Flight Control” a small cracking sound plays with Kola talking soon after “Flight I have my PCB on board, I am fully supplied and we are ready to fly”. “Kola Alpha 1-1 you are clear to undock and warp when ready, try not to lose this one Kola” a smooth feminine voice requests, “No promises Control” Kola replies.

Soon after undocking Kola gives the command to Whistler to warp them to the Oulley gate, after waiting on the gate for what felt like hours Kola’s dash flashes red with a Concord announcement “All pilots be on the lookout for an outlaw in system, with multiple murder and illegal shipping charges, all ships are recommended to retreat on site, threat level is high repeat threat level is high”. Kola sits back in his chair “great another cowboy”, seconds after the words leave his mouth a Gallente Battleship warps in at over 100km. Kola goes into a stable panic “Whistler scan it down find out what class it is and the ship’s ID number” Kola demands. “Only a Hyperion with 350s or bigger would be able to hit us from that range” A few lines show up on the dash display “And Of course it’s a Hyperion with 350mm rails, Whistler open Coms” Kola sighs.

As the Com link opens a voice comes from the dash in a gargling voice “400 million or your life” and the transmission ends. “Well that wasn’t very helpful” Kola says with frustration. The dash flashes with more lines of text “I know he is charging weapons Whistler you don’t make a death threat and then just warp away, launch all drones and get us out of here! I would rather lose the drones then the ship” A flash of light skims the front right side of the Hulk making it shake uncontrollably. A large red light comes from the dash “Shields down after one shot what the hell is that guy firing Uranium Charges!?”
The Hyperion’s guns glow as the next shot is fired striping Kola’s shields. “Whistler seal all open compartments and send out a distress signal to all ships” As the pirates rails rotate for one last cycle and fire a massive Cynosural Field lights the sky between the Mining Barge and the Hyperion. Within less than a second a Caldari Carrier exits the Cyno blocking the pirates shot. Kola stands and his eyes widen, the Coms light flashes Kola flicks the switch to open all channels. “Kola what is that the second Hulk this week?” “DEX?! WHERE THE HELL DID YOU GET THAT?! I knew The Black Dawn were treating you well but that is bloody ridicules!” Kola yells in that he might still live.

Dex chuckles “I’ve done all right old friend, sit tight I will take it from here” Kola sits back in his chair with relief. Dex sits up in his Captions chair looking through the massive viewing screen of the Carrier, Dex looks at his XO (Executive Officer) “Bast scramble that Hyperion’s warp drive, lock him up dispatch all fighters let them know they can all have a piece, oh and send some repair drones to Kola’s ship”. “Yes Admiral” the XO replied, a voice comes from the speaker box below Dex. “Did he just call you Admiral?!” Kola said astounded. “That’s what happens when you don’t go try to mine in unpoliced space by yourself for four years Kola and stay in the same Corporation they look after you” Dex states as if reading from a manual or text book.

“All fighters engage primary target, the engines and shield generates are priority” Dex commands, within seconds a great explosion came from within the Hyperion blowing it from the inside out. Kola thinks to himself while watching the explosion “mmm must have been uranium”.

After the lights of battle dim, Kola finds himself standing shoulder to shoulder with the Black Dawn Admiral looking off the bridge of the flag ship and without a spoken word the two Capital Ships jump into the stars.

CCP Guard's Day | Wake up --- Make Coffee --- Read and Reply on forums for 7 hrs --- Have meeting --- Sleep on couch in Office

Diezel325
Aliastra
Gallente Federation
#26 - 2011-09-19 22:31:05 UTC  |  Edited by: Diezel325
Being Hunted

The ship shuddered as the warp bubble collapsed and out appeared a prophecy class battle cruiser, gliding to a halt in the vast emptiness of space. Slicing through space the hulk of a ship, gleaming rays of sunlight reflecting of her gigantic armor plates. The sight of this hawk-like machine of war would make any lonesome pilot tremble, especially for Jarek, who was reading weapon lock from within his rifter class frigate. The impact tore the ship apart and warp scrabblers stoped the rifter going anywhere, within moments thick black plumes of smoke erupted from the Rifter.

The stars are now roamed by demi gods, in a galaxy run by capsuleer corporations, many of which are part of alliances with other corporations. And two alliances are currently meeting border to border in sector 20A-104,
"Backup! Backup damit! im in an adjacent system, 20B im going down!"
Jarek screamed over fleet coms, he should have stayed with his alliance, he knew it and regretted his decision to head to a nearby station to fit new drones. As his ships computer screeched out that damage was into his hull he had but a few seconds to report his location over fleet coms before he felt himself being blown out of his exploding ship in his pod. A brilliant white flash marked his ships grave yard and now his pod floated motionless in the vast exposing space. Jonas new he had to fly his pod out of their ASAP or they would destroy him, and he wasn't planning on loosing another clone, especially when he had forked out his last 100 million ISK on new Implants.

The Prophecy turned its guns to the helpless pod as it tried to flee, "Fire!" shouted the Battle cruisers commander from within there own pod, this was but just a thought, there mind was connected to machine and the thought impulse called out on the ships intercoms and to the gun deck. Six heavy modulated pulse energy beams locked the pod. Jarek closed his eyes knowing he wasn't going to make it, after a few moments he realised something was happening, or the lack of it, he wasn't being sucked into a new body to the other side of the galaxy. He quickly scanned the space and choked at the site, the prophecy was being engaged by what appeared to be a fleet of 50 frigates, cruisers, Battle ships and carriers. more ships were still warping in, his alliance had come!

As he thought this more warp bubbles opened and in glided flashing red targets, the other alliance. Jarek quickly requested permission to dock with a friendly carrier to re ship, the carrier bore guns on the prophecy, pounding shells into its twisted armor. A bone crunching shock wave passed over him from behind as he docked with the carrier, with a smile over his face, he though of the Prophecy commander, who was he? Why did he have it in for a little frigate?

After a blinding lights she realised she had died, and now was being reanimated into a new clone thousands of light years away from the battle. Many of her capsulleer alliance colleagues would be waking up in stations near her. She regretted the loss of her non capsulleer crew members but knew that her mission was one step closer to completion. Jarek was his name, and now she knew what he was hiding and she wasn't going to stop hunting him down, no matter how many ships she went though, because she had the full funding of the Jovian Empire, and they would not take disappointment.



-Diezel325

This is my first ever story i'v written, and I would love any feedback Smile

"Even though I seek perfection I wear my scars with pride" - Parkour, Free Run

Kelonar
Are we having fun yet
#27 - 2011-09-19 22:56:21 UTC
Scarred

I have a new tattoo. A slaver gave it to me.

We Brutor were peaceful on our home world. Our clan roamed freely among the others. As traders, we were sought out by all. Even though we were a fearsome people, we were welcome. People needed the things we brought and they were eager to bargain with the things they made.

Then the conquerors came to our camp, walking the short distance from where they'd landed. The cowards had come during the darkness. Their ship gleamed in the starlight.

We had heard the stories during our travels. Terrible stories of capture or death.

They called themselves righteous. We'd been told that they claimed to take other clansmen as part of their birthright. They believed the universe was theirs to rule as Amarrian disciples.

But we knew what they really were. Mere slavers. We knew the value of goods. After all, what thing could possibly be worth more than a powerful human to do hard work?

The invaders had a small force, only about as many men as a person has toes and fingers. Their weapons could melt through our clothing and our shelters. It would be difficult to stop them. But we were determined to cheat them in their sorry attempt to steal some of our clan.

We waited until they were almost upon us. One of them triggered the trap we had set, and the net dropped over them. As the net was hoisted we dodged out of their range. The men in the net were dropped to the ground from the top of the tree. Most of them did not get up again.

It was too late for my father. One of the invaders had shot him, leaving nothing but ashes.

A couple of the invaders had escaped the net. One of them came running at me. My dagger found its mark. Blood sprayed upon me as he fell. He grabbed me and pulled me down with him.

It was a long struggle. I could hear yelling from my clansmen as they tried to dodge the fire of the invaders who had avoided the trap. At last I staggered away from him.

But I felt something pushing the back of my chest, and the foul breath of one of them on the back of my neck. That was the last time I saw my home.

That was five seasons ago. Except for the one who killed my father and brought me to this place, I no longer hate the Amarrians as I once did.

My captors have made me do heavy work, but I could not say they have been cruel to me after that night when they invaded my clan’s camp. Their religion does restrain them a bit. They do not beat me, and they feed me well, even though I have attempted to escape more than once.

But they always find me here in this colony. There’s nowhere else to go on foot.

One of them brought me ink and even a small needle last season. It was an amazing gesture, and I could not turn it down.

The ink was not the usual color of deep blue that we usually use. It was a deep fiery red. The scar I had gotten from the invader that night was long across my left thigh. I used the ink and needle to make the scar more visible. Over it I made a likeness of my father, and I painted the star near our home world.

I have seen that many times when I look up into the sky. I know where it is.

I’ve had a chance to observe how the pilots work when I have been taken on some trade runs with them to carry their goods. I am no fool and my memory is good. Some day one of them will get careless with his ship. All I need is one small frigate, some food, and some luck.

Lynne Rankin
Deep Core Mining Inc.
Caldari State
#28 - 2011-09-20 01:29:11 UTC
ANOTHER DAY OLDER…AND DEEPER IN DEBT



Being a tube child in the Caldari State, Lynne had always been alone her whole life. When she was four years old, her eyesight left her due to a mistake in the birthing process, triggered by the almost inhuman living conditions of the orphanages. She was blind for a week before the caretaker of the orphanage Lynne belonged to was kind to her and purchased her a pair of artificial eyes for her use. It took doing, and a lot of ISK, but her eyesight was restored. Lynne continued to grow until she was eighteen years old. She joined the State War Academy to learn how to pilot a starship, the only alternative was to work in the factories and she wanted some sense of freedom, and under several mentors learned that there was more than just fighting in a war. Two years later, and after she got the basics of advanced flight down, she stole a capsule pod from the Academy, and with the help of some courses in hacking, used by Academy Graduates to bypass faulty systems during a battle, deactivated the transponder and flew on. Hoping to charter her way in New Eden.

Trading her capsule pod for an Ibis under an assumed name and opening a new ISK account, she made several mining runs before finding an abandoned Bantam to make larger hauls. Finally, with her hard earned ISK spent towards a Caldari Merlin, she flies on...


Looking for her place in New Eden…


…Three years later…



The hum of the engine soothed Lynne, it was her home now. Complex mechanisms geared and clanked around her, lowering her into the docking bay of the Kaalakiota Corporation Warehouse II that was orbiting the first moon of Ziona V, where she made most of her drops from mining. She had just offloaded a rather poor haul of Scordite for only a couple thousand ISK, and her port mining laser was badly damaged thanks to the reputation of the Ziona system after a run in with a group of pirates. Repair costs covered her engines and part of her hull, but her mining laser would have to wait. At least she opted to take the two-for-one deal for her Duel Diode Lasers a year ago.

Cloaked Sage,” an almost hoarse voice came into Lynne’s helmet headset. “This is Kaalakiota Corporation Warehouse II. Undocking request received and granted. Docking fees applied to your account pilot. Fly safe, Clara.

“Cloaked Sage confirms, out.” Lynne still wasn’t used to people referring her by her alias, even after three years. But it was necessary and she tapped the side of her crimson helmet and closed the connection. The helmet helped her out in some situations in targeting asteroids, but mainly it was used to keep track of her contacts, and warn her of anyone trying to steal her canisters when she was cooperating with a local mining corporation for an extra ISK. The Cooke Frontier Mining Corporation had moved out of Ziona a week ago due to hostile actions with another corporation, not too uncommon in the Domain region however. Humorously enough, the new corporation stepped in and began to strip-mine the Ziona II’s and VI’s asteroid belts. Where all the good stuff was; they fiercely defended it and thus push everyone else to the outer-belts to scrap for Scordite.

As her ship lowered into the hangar and began to make it’s departure under the ship‘s autopilot subroutines, a lock of dull red hair brushed up against her eyelash. She pushed it back underneath her helmet and selected her usual mining location from her control panel.
There were two other seats in the cockpit with her, but neither was filled. She owned this ship on her own, and unless she hired someone, however unlikely it was, all the controls were patched into her panel. Her pocket vibrated and she reached down to see how much the docking fees were. Fifteen-thousand two hundred and three ISK blinked rapidly, then subtracted by a thousand. Their rates have gone up, she muttered in her head disappointedly. That was almost a one-hundred percent increase. Less ships were coming in and out of Ziona due to the new mining corporation, which does it’s own refining elsewhere where the prices are far better. So traffic has steadily begun to drop to the warehouse, and the prices would increase as traffic faded. She’d need to pack up soon…

Shaking her head, she spoke into the computer voice recognition system, “Warp to Mining Site H3-23-B,” before she spoke the word Execute, she listed a more exact, rough coordinate to an asteroid that looked like it might have some promise. “Coordinates X Minus fifteen hundred degrees, Y Plus thirteen degrees, Z Plus forty. Execute.” That would put her about two hundred kilometers into the field, and sixty kilometers above it to give Lynne some room in case anything was in the way when she entered.

The asteroid she was interested in had a sort of look to it when she last saw it, a sort of gleam so deep within the belt that scans were inconclusive. Sadly she wondered if someone had picked it in the hours she was asleep, or trying to. There or gone, rare or not, in the least she could mine the Veldspar in the belt, but the market for that and Tritanium was crashing in the region, so it’d be a small payday if she was forced into that route. And she was certain she was never mining Scordite again unless she had a very good reason to, she could only hope to—

Location confirmed. Warp field forming.

She would soon find out


Quote:
(Fail for me, I thought it was 4000 words, not characters, had this huge fight scene written out and everything Sad in the least, I still have the second part and can mail it to whoever's interested, otherwise this first part is just for setting up the fight.
Myxx
The Scope
#29 - 2011-09-20 02:12:36 UTC
Bevine
The Scope
Gallente Federation
#30 - 2011-09-20 03:27:24 UTC
The Luckiest Orca

Jed was tense; this was his first assignment as wing leader for the Hidden Daggers. Two months earlier he had been part of his family mining franchise, flying an Orca mining support ship, a mind numbing and boring role. He had finally worked off the money he had borrowed to purchase the Orca, sold it and purchased the tactical cruiser he was piloting now. He had left the family home in Ordat, taken his trusty pet slaver hound with him and set off to seek his fortune.

At first he had sought mercenary contracts, but nobody wanted to hire a green combat pilot, even if they did bring a multi-billion Isk ship to the table. Jed had drifted into first smuggling, and now piracy. Surprisingly he had exhibited a shocking aptitude for his new life of space crime, and his career had been on the fast track, finally leading him to the Hidden Daggers. The Hidden Daggers were a specialized pirate corp, who operated small, fast hitting fleets, and employed hit and run guerilla style tactics.

Jed’s comm channel crackled and the voice of Laxie, the fleets expert probe pilot came across, “Jed, I’ve located an unknown cosmic signature, could be a wormhole, do you want me to probe it down?” Jed clicked his own comm open, “Roger Laxie, probe it down, let us know the results. The rest of you, combat comms from this point forward.”

Minutes passed, Jed knew that Laxie was launching probes, trying to triangulate and identify the cosmic signature. Finally Laxie reported in, “Woot! It’s a class 3 Jed, prime carebear territory, we hit pay dirt!”

Jed smiled to himself; a class 3 wormhole was a good find. They were often inhabited by pilots with little skill; they offered a good reward with little risk. They would definitely find some prey here.

Jed opened his comms again, “OK listen up Daggers, any of you screws up here I get Fang to chew the seat of your pants out when we dock. Laxie, can you scan us down a likely target group and bookmark us an interception point. Cargle, is your new ECM package likely to give us trouble? If so we will rely on more conventional tactics.” Cargle’s gruff voice came back to Jed, “”Negative, the baby is healthy, just waiting for me to wake it up, don’t worry about me Jed.”

“Jed, Laxie here reporting in, I have a likely spot bookmarked, jump through the wormhole and I will transmit the location to you.” Jed smiled to himself, everything was looking good, “Roger Lexie, what are we looking at in there?” Jed waited for Lexie’s reply, “A mining fleet Jed, sucking on a whole bunch of gas clouds, a single Drake battlecruiser as escort and an Orca supporting the mining operation, 4 smaller vessels actually mining.”

Jed couldn’t help but chuckle at the irony, his first real command role and he was going to bag an Orca, quite a catch. Jed briefed the fleet, “OK folks, here is the plan. We are light on tacklers, so I want the two that we do have to warp scramble two of the miners right away. The rest of us will target the other two miners and hopefully destroy them before they know what’s happening. Cargle, I want you to lock down that Drake using your full EWAR package. OK enter the wormhole and form up on the other side.”

Jed couldn’t remember what happened in the following minutes, their ambush had worked perfectly. The 4 mining ships were destroyed and his fleet was now dealing with the Drake, which just left the Orca.

Jed keyed his comms channel open, “OK, great work team, let’s finish that Drake and then head out.” Silence followed, but Jed knew what was coming, finally Lexie posed the question, “What about the Orca Jed? That’s the main prize!” Jed cringed, “Negative Lexie leave the Orca, you guys can share my cut of the profits between you to make up for it.”

Jed wasn’t sure why he left the Orca intact, maybe he was just feeling generous today, or maybe he still remembered the long years it had taken him to pay off the loan for his Orca, before he had become a pirate.
Cal Becka
Axiom Sprocket
#31 - 2011-09-20 11:14:18 UTC  |  Edited by: Cal Becka
The Shivers.

I shiver, not because I’m cold, but because I’m scared. Months of training, of looking forward to this, I’m finally here and I’m scared. You hear rumours, nightmares, people stuck in their own minds, people stuck in their pods. Yet any pilot will tell you they’re myth, that Pods are safe. ‘You’ll be fine.’ They tell you. So you continue the training, reassured.

But now I stand terrified to my bones, as all the stories pop up in my head again. Its dark, the pod is sealed shut, the neural uplinks are connected. I’m going to be immortal, a capsuleer. I’m going to be Rich! I Shiver.

I hear it first, a low gurgle. I squeeze my eyes shut, by breathing accelerates. Sweat pours down my spine. Cold! I get my first feeling of Pod Goo as it pools at my feet. I dance around for a bit, till the fluid fills up enough that it doesn’t help.

Calm Down! I yell at myself. I force my feet to stand still my muscles to relax. I take a deep breath. You’re going to be alright, i tell myself. I Shiver

The fluid rises past my chest and I feel my breathing quicken. I tilt my head back and take a deep breath. Idiot! You’re just making matters worse. I tell myself, not that it helps, my survival instincts tell me not to let that breath out. And no matter how hard I fight the instinct I cannot let it go.

Then the ectoplasmic Liquid rises above my head, filling the whole capsule. And I’m left fighting with myself, logically I know I have to breathe out, and breathe in the Fluid. But years’ worth of instinct tell me to do so is death.

My heartbeat accelerates…
My chest Burns…
My Eyes water...
My mind screams for release…

Eventually my body succumbs to the inevitable. Bubbles rise in front of my eyes as my lungs heave out the used air, and the goo fills my lungs, I heave and cough and splutter. The bubbles are soon sucked out. All thats left is me, The Goo, and my slowly steading Heartbeat.

The burn in My chest has vannished during my coughing. I Feel fine. Memories of the last few secons play through my mind again. I Shiver.

Sensors flare around the Pod and Awareness springs forth in my mind. I can feel the capsule, like an extension of my own body. All the signs i've been taught to look for are there. All is Good. All is Green.

I lift my hand up in front of my face, it's surprisingly dificult to move in the Goo. I watch as it drifts slowly down, when i stop straining. Then the feeling hits home.

I am a Pod Pilot.

A Capsuleer.

I Am Immortal!

I Shiver.
Kendara Rziem
Deep Core Mining Inc.
Caldari State
#32 - 2011-09-20 16:58:14 UTC  |  Edited by: Kendara Rziem
The Gallentean Hustle

So much for a peaceful living within the belts of Gallentean space. It had all been a ruse anyways to disguise the true purpose of my presence in this region, but none of that matters now. The Serpentis have been gunning for me more & more frequently. Too often in fact.

My cover's obviously been blown. I should have seen it sooner. They were on to me and this was my que. We've been manufacturing and selling military drones to the Gallenteans using blueprints I'd stolen following a successful hack of the Caldari military network. I knew the risks but didn't care, and apparently neither did the Gallenteans judging by how much they've been paying.

Something was bothering me though. Hiring pirate mercenaries wasn't like the Caldari. Either someone in the chain of command has gone rogue or I'm being mislead. I could understand if the blueprints had been some top-secret prototype tech, but all this over repair drones didn't add up.

I signaled Arkile to secure the last shipment and hole up at the rendezvous in Caldari space. I had known him all my life. He'd taught me everything I knew about smuggling and hacking. Though a man of many unsavory talents he was always true to his word, and I trusted him.

Ditching the Hulk in favor of a Griffin for the exodus, I sent out a message with bogus intel about how I intended to go planet side to catch some R&R. By the time any agents realize they were being duped, I hopefully will have already reached the nearest boarder gate to Caldari. We had chosen our enemy's back yard hoping it'd be the last place they'd expect to find us.

Once in Caldari space I set course directly for the rendezvous - an abandoned mining base in a barren asteroid belt deep in deadspace. Upon arrival I transmitted my ID to alert Arkile of my arrival, but instead of receiving an acknowledgement I received an alert on my console warning me that warp capabilities were being scrambled.

Sensors were not turning up anything, so I attempted to triangulate the source. My nerves had got the better of me. I hadn't noticed the Maller decloaking out the view port directly in front of me. "Arkile?"

"Just wanted to say, Thanks. I doubt the plan could've succeeded without your help." Arkile spoke with a cold sincerity devoid of compassion or remorse.

"why?" I grated between clenched teeth.

"Will knowing really make a difference, we all have our agenda's and the why's tend to get so complicated, don't you think? All you need to know is that I can't leave your implants in tact; can't afford the Caldari recovering any data that might lead them back to me. For what it's worth I do wish there had been another way."

The Maller opened fire. Evasive maneuvering was futile as it already had me in a stasis web. It's lasers took mere seconds to negate my Griffin's shields. I could feel the temperature rising drastically as I began to inhale the stench of melting armor and fried circuitry.

The incorporation of immortality into the human equation had very little impact on the value of loyalty. When you're light years from the people you love they might as well be dead. The vastness of the universe had a way of invading your senses when it comes to things you leave behind. There's always one more mission or anomaly or malfunction till you eventually realize you never found your way back.

Cloning is not eternal life; at least not relative to the individual that dies. Despite the multi-lifetimes of cloned memories flashing before my eyes eerily in sync with the blasts of the Mauler, it was clear that this moment was my last. I closed my eyes and envisioned all the people I've ever cared about.

Who knows, maybe THIS is the way home... *boom*
Gullegumman
Ginnungagaps Rymdfarargille
#33 - 2011-09-21 04:22:03 UTC
The Mission

Doritte resented his parents for moving the family to a remote asteroid colony. He knew he would never see his friends again. The nearest station was over 25 AU away. That was warp drive distance, and no worker he had ever met could get access to a ship with a warp drive. Doritte vividly recalled the disappointment of his first, and last, warp.

It had been a cloudy afternoon, when they moved. Only one bag per person was allowed on the tiny shuttle that left the spaceport for the station. He remembered being so angry with his family, so desperate for everything he had left behind on the surface. His first glimpse of that station, larger than any city he had ever seen erased those feelings. Now there was only excitement at seeing something nobody he knew had seen. As soon as they arrived in the massive hangar, Doritte ran to the nearest porthole and saw the world where he grew up. It was a life changing view.

Doritte was disappointed as his family was loaded like cattle, with thousands of others, into the massive hold of the ship that would take them to their new home. How badly he wanted to see what was outside those walls. He closed his eyes in anticipation of the massive acceleration. Suddenly, the speakers cracked into action urging everybody to disembark. As he set foot on the catwalk the gravity shift caught him off guard. He felt strange as he made his way to the first porthole he could spot, eager for another glimpse of his home planet. He nearly tripped twice in the economy gravity the asteroid colony provided. His heart sank as he looked out. The sun was a tiny ball of light in the distance, his home a barely visible speck in the vast nothing.

Spending his days since then in what passed for a school on the small mining colony, he would often sit next to a porthole. His eyes would look across the miles of emptiness that separated the mess hall and learning annex from the barracks and working mine on the active rock. If he really tried, he could see things moving around on the mine. Doritte would sit there and wait for the long shifts his parents worked would end. His frustration and anger over the situation grew with each passing year. Why were they here? They were still dirt poor and his parents were working themselves to death. For what?

This was another one of those days. Doritte stared across the empty miles at the active mine, waiting to see the shuttle leave with the next shift of workers. Suddenly, a flash of gray swept across his field of vision. He pressed his face into the icy cold of the glass to try to see what it was, just out of view. He had seen space combat on holoreels, but they all had sound. There was something almost fake about the focused beams of color that suddenly swept across the walls of the barracks building. He could feel his pupils dilate just before he was blinded by the perfectly silent blast of light that signaled the complex exploding.

Defending ships appeared almost out of nowhere, letting loose volleys of missiles toward the invading ship. He was tracking them with his eyes as the floor fell out from under him. The shockwave from the exploding barracks had finally hit the school building, shaking everything around him with a massive rumble. His eyes caught a glimpse of two burning defense ships as he tried desperately to grab hold of something with flailing arms, but his chin broke his fall. The pain made everything suddenly real. He pulled himself back to the window in time to see the last defending ships explode. The beams of light now moved to the mining rig, and Doritte felt his heart stop. As the building opened up into space he could see the tiny forms of workers drifting out into space.

Doritte tried to start breathing again, but life support had failed in the crumbling building. His last view was the invading ship, moving through the wreckage, scooping up a few items. Then it warped off again, as suddenly as it had arrived.

Mission complete.
Thrallok K'tarr
Brave Newbies Inc.
Brave Collective
#34 - 2011-09-21 05:30:31 UTC  |  Edited by: Thrallok K'tarr
The Seeker of Alonyia – Or
A Voice In The Dark


My ship hung still in the dark, my breathing heavy. I wished I wanted to be anywhere but here.

This past ten minutes I had been hearing this distant chattering, scittering noise – as alien and quiet as a thousand deep-voiced bees. Was I imagining that? Or was it real? The inexplicable sound droned on in its static hum like the sound of looming death – even as I shrunk away from it all staring into that suddenly awful abyss of space.

Please don’t find me! Please don’t let the probes find me! What forces are out there – don’t – don’t!


It was almost enough for this old soldier to believe again. I might just have, if what gods that be had not already turned against our forces fully that day.

Death and Despair, hung in the air like carrion crows over the broken husks of our fallen ships. If any attack on a POS Station had ever gone wrong, ours had now. The Blood Centaur Corps’ counter-attack had been swift and brutal. All had perished but one – thus far. Yet still the bombs echoed… and echoed… and echoed… Twin carriers circling their prey, before the salvagers would come in to feed on the dead.

Though I had considered the pistol under my seat, death in space is most times swift… And as much as I would have been won over by an end to all this madness that we call war - space combat leaves more dead than wounded out here. And the Blood Centaur’s were unremorseful, unrelenting thugs that would show me no mercy.

I shivered as the buzzing continued, that awful buzzing all around. I scratched at my ear, and spun around in my chair. Was it my own shipping falling apart around me?

I tried not to think about it, or the smell, as I sat back in my seat. Yes, the smell of urine, as to my horror I felt warm liquid running down my leg. When fear turned to terror – I had somehow lost all control. I pushed that terrible feeling aside, and ran in a regimented routine over my damaged systems. All damaged past the red, but not irreparable in a station.

I was stuck immovable behind my Cheetah’s scout ship’s barely-holding stealth field, held in terror by my view of the wide open space, the site of a recent wormhole battle. It was nothing but the purest and most vile terror I had ever felt watching my systems fail before me. I knew without a shadow of a doubt that I must die then as my fleet had died under the massive assault. Carriers struck us down from 150kms out. And even the Tengus. the Abaddons, the Ravens had perished at that range. My lowly ship had no chance… no chance from the start…

In that interminable period that had passed with the slow enervation of five hours of a dread beyond terror, the weaving twin Hel carrier’s bombs had fallen farther away, ringing again in the distance: bells predicting my own incontrovertible doom. I shivered and shook, with an overwhelming certainty that was tightly; so tightly wringing the sanity out of my shattered mind. My momentously slow crawl to 100km, was made perilously under my small frigate’s barely holding stealth field.

If I jump out now I will be killed for sure... Killed on the gate!


Death was the only logical outcome now. The cascading waves of bombs beyond the field of wrecks were closer now. The ghosts of our lost fleet hung in the frozen waters of the night: champions once: now husks glimmering on my sensors.

I thought as the massive ships and their ringing drones closed I had been caught at last. Or was it just a ruse? I bit my teeth until my eyes stung: the fear was completely overwhelming. Yet I fought hard. I had been a warrior, and had known the courage not to flee. Yet that person I was seemed a stranger from a lifetime ago to me now. Nothing remained now in the darkness… but the skeletons and barrages of my defeat: an inglorious end to a glorious career.

I wanted a voice to reach out to me from the dark. Only a small miracle would save my skin today.

But there was no voice. Only closing thunder.

I reached into my pocket. I always carried the Crux Alonyia with me for good luck. I put this gift from an old counselor at the University of War in Pimbarue VIII around my neck for good luck. I could barely remember that dream of time so many ages away now.

If they had remaining probes, and they had found me, I should have been dead already.

I put my hand over the warpdrive accelerator now fighting back my paralyzing terror. The smart bombs crashed around me now within a kilometer from the closer carrier – and the other crow circling out further. I shook off my terror with anger, and with hope! And it was a rush of adrenaline that saved me – not a voice in the dark.

My Cheetah whirred into life. I would be a blip on their sensors visible only for a moment and then gone, as my warp drives squealed and whined. Within seconds the warphole had been established and I was surrounded by it as I moved forward at impossible speeds.

If my shattered frigate can survive this I might have a chance!
Please, deliver me! Whatever is out there! Please!


Two or three more jumps I made: past the hostile alien Sleepers in their ships, who barely saw me flash in and out; then out past an empty plain; and at last a minefield far away. But I had no time to wait – if they were not on the wormhole now they would soon be on it in droves.

I choked back my fear, though I shivered to the core. I knew the enemy guardians of Death would be there. A single instant would take me through the hole…

My last chance of victory will be on the gate… Please let it be unguarded! Please don’t find me! Please don’t find me! What forces are out there – forces out there – don’t find – don’t – don’t find me now!

I clutched the Crux Alonyia close. How strange it is – these small things give us hope? For I had regained my courage – and that was no small thing.
Capac Amaru
Burning Sword
#35 - 2011-09-21 12:05:43 UTC  |  Edited by: Capac Amaru
Lifetimes Upon Lifetimes


Lifetimes upon lifetimes, I had never felt the cold of space, but now the chill of the void is my universe.

The feeds are all malfunctioning. Occasionally I get brief glimpses of cartwheeling wreckage, or dim sensor echoes, but most of the time its just dark. And cold. I miss the stars.

Most of the pod's systems are down, either fried or in emergency standby. It must have been a one in a million shot to bypass the multiple redundant safety systems of my pod, the self-destructs, the transfer system. The Jovian's work true wonders with technology, but even they are fallible it would seem.

I wonder what true death is like. I've died so many times before, only to awaken to a new life, a new body just the way I like it. I wonder what I will awaken to this time. If I will awaken at all...

Time passes slowly in the darkness. I think I'm drifting in and out of consciousness, but I can't be sure. It all seems the same. Occasionally I glimpse something out of the corner of my eye, but my gaze disturbs the pond and the ripples scare the fish away. I've never seen a pond, not a real one. They say that holoreels just aren't as good as the real thing. I tried to access my holoreels, but the uplink isn't working. But if the uplink isn't working how did the fish get out?

I think the ship links are feeding back into my neural net. I can feel parts of the ship, right on the edges of my awareness, but I know that its gone. Its gone. Millions of ISK gone in a puff of vaporized metals and broken dreams. Its going to take days of mission running to make enough ISK to buy and fit another one. I might fill the high power slots with afterburners, then I'll be travelling in style. Wait, that doesn't make sense... These fish keep distracting me. They don't want me to know that the medical support systems are failing. Cheeky devils.

I think I can see a ship. Its salvaging the wrecks. Damn it, I can't get a weapons lock. I can't warp out either. None of the ships systems are responding. It could be Sanshas trying to eat my brains, or Guristas trying to steal my holoreels. I won't let them take my fish. This pond and everything in it belongs to me!

Its really getting quite warm here. I just love the feeling of the sand between my toes, the gentle embrace of the summer sun, its so relaxing. Not a care in the world. It is a little too bright though. Its kind of hurting my eyes. I should have bought a pair of those Nightstalker Goggles.

For a second there I thought I was trapped in a broken pod, slowly freezing to death while the automated systems desperately fought to keep me alive by pumping me full of drugs and the glitching neural interface cooked my brain. What a horrible thought. I've really got to stop watching bad holoreel horrors.

The beach stretches for kilometres in all directions. The cool perspiration on the side of my drink reminds me of something, but the thought eludes me like those wily fish. Sometimes when I sit and watch the gentle waves I wonder if its all just a dream, some kind of elaborate fantasy. But then I luxuriate in the feeling of the heat of the sun upon my skin, take a sip of my icy cold... Quafe... and I know, deep down, that a life so real, so perfect, couldn't possibly be just an illusion.

I'm so lucky to be one of the chosen few, a Capsuleer, an immortal. There is always something new to explore, always something exciting just around the corner, and sometimes what you find is so wondrous, so amazing, that eternal life just isn't enough. This beach, this thin strand of sand along the edge of this great ocean is such a place.

The fish jump and splash in the water and I know they feel the same way too.

Lifetimes upon lifetimes, I've never felt so alive, and now the warmth of the sun fills my universe.
Balthasar Dorian
Ministry of War
Amarr Empire
#36 - 2011-09-22 03:36:27 UTC  |  Edited by: Balthasar Dorian
DISCLAIMER: story may contain graphic and disturbing content.

Final Judgment

The ceiling light within the bunker began to flicker and Vangi Fellcrum, tourism tycoon extraordinaire, knows that the glory days of his business empire are over forever. The last of the hired goons are frozen meat floating through the vacuum of space, annihilated by some unknown free-lance agent. The lights turn black and Vangi soon finds himself with a bag over his head and his feet dragging through a darkened hallway.
“Go ahead, you thugs! Do you know who you are screwing with?"
A deep gritted voice resounds through the darkness. “You have the right to remain silent, Mr. Fellcrum, or at least you do for now.”
Moments later he is being carried up a platform, then into an elevator, and then restrained in a chair onboard whatever behemoth police ship found its way to his home.
An unknown voice speaks
“Vangi Fellcrum. You are hereby found guilty of 540,122,990 charges of illegal slave trafficking, 220,711 charges of murder in the first degree, and 899,504 charges of illegal slave trafficking of a minor child. The penalty for your transgressions…is death.”
Vangi becomes filled with rage and disbelief at the pronouncement. “Who do you think you are? Is this some kind of joke? I want my lawyers! I demand that you let me call my lawyers!”
The gritty voice replies
“You are in no position to be making demands of us, criminal scum! There is no safety net for you. No legal circus for you to dance your way to freedom. No loopholes for you to squirm your way out of. There is only you, this chamber, and us. You will come to know the full terror and misery which you have unleashed upon the helpless as you yourself are made helpless. Then you will die in accordance with the supreme law of the galaxy.”
“Who-who are you?”, whispered Vangi, exasperated
“I am Lord Balthasar Dorian, capsuleer knight. I am your judge, jury, and executioner. In this chamber, your spirit will be purged!”
In that moment, the comfortable sense of power which Vangi had carried with him his entire life vanished in an instant. The black bag is removed from his head and Vangi finds himself gazing upon the immortal.
“Connect the electrodes!”, bellows Dorian
Two pairs of enormous black-sleeved arms reach out from behind the chair. Each appears to be about six feet long with hands as wide as man’s skull. Each of the arms begins strapping metal pads to Vangi’s body. Meanwhile, Lord Dorian reaches into the pocket of his long black judicial robe and pulls out what appears to be a holographic picture projector.
“Tell me. What do you see in this picture here?”
Vangi shakes his head in denial. “Two girls ages ten and fourteen years. Dock whores. Look, they’re not mine! Maybe their parents made them work the streets. Lots of poor out there you know so maybe…”
Vangi convulses in agony as the electricity pulsates through him
“Do you take me for a fool, boy? I have been watching all of your operations from the space lanes. I have also been watching from inside your compounds. All of them.”
“How is that possible?”, says the horrified Vangi
“It’s rather simple. We find some of your employees and infect them with XR109 self-replicating spy nano-drones. The bots record images, sounds, vital signs, hormone levels, even thoughts.”
“Thoughts?”
“Yes, thoughts. You see, Mr. Fellcrum, we haven’t really been searching for you. The search only took a few hours. This entire time we have been dismantling your operation one hub at a time, one dirty rat at a time. Now we have the last rat cornered in the maze and that rat…is you.”
Vangi swallows his saliva and straightens his neck. “It’s a galaxy-wide operation. I can’t keep track of what every man on my payroll does with the workers!”
“I know what you are thinking. You believe that you can talk your way out of this one. Do I look like some brain dead politician to you? I have not brought you here to negotiate. You have been brought here to die!”
“Then why haven’t you killed me yet?”, said Vangi, almost flippantly
“Oh we will kill you in time, Mr. Fellcrum. You can be sure of that.”
Dorian pulls out the picture again
“Now tell me, Mr. Fellcrum, and I need you to be completely honest. Look at this picture and tell me the worth of these two.”
Vangi contemplates what he thinks the interrogator wishes to hear. “They have unlimited value.”
Dorian turns the gauge on the torture device. The intensity of the electrical current causes the blood vessels on his forehead to bulge as if about to burst open.
“Lies! I told you not to lie! Now I ask you again: what are they worth?!”
“seventy thousand isk a piece. sixty thousand on contract”, says the exasperated Vangi
“That is more like it. A higher price than your other products it would seem.”
“Yes, Lord Dorian”
“Now we are making progress! Of course, there is one thing left to be done. Remember how I told you about the spy drones? Well it turns out that while your buddies were beating those poor girls, the little drones made their way into the open wounds. We recorded all of their suffering up until the moment of their deaths.”
Vangi recoils in pure horror as he anticipates what is about to happen
“Now you will experience your work first hand. You will know it now and for the entire duration of your wretched life. Now begins your final judgment!”
Dorian sends a signal and a small drone arm extends with a hypodermic needle. The great pairs of arms return once again to strap a neural projector to Vangi’s wounded head. Within moments, Vangi Fellcrum, the self-professed King of Pleasure, is in absolute agony. His mind is filled entirely with the pain of a half billion assaults, grinding in the body shredder, and the knowledge that it will never end.
“Lord Dorian, when will you kill me? Have mercy and end my life!”
“I have already killed you, Mr. Fellcrum. Welcome to Hell.”
Jarek Korwin
Pator Tech School
Minmatar Republic
#37 - 2011-09-23 19:41:43 UTC  |  Edited by: Jarek Korwin
Orphan

Jarek was huddled in his mother’s arms, as she stroked his hair in an attempt to reassure him “don’t worry my dear, everything is going to be OK” Another blast shook the ship abruptly, and the lights flickered for a moment.
“Come on, you piece of junk!" Jarek looked up, to see Erek his father shouting at the controls, whilst wrestling with the ship, veins pulsing on his temples.
An ominous shadow was cast across them as a ship flew past the cockpit and turned sharply to face them head on. Erek recognised it as a Pilgrim. “So that’s how they managed to find us… Curse those Amarrians and there cloaked ships!” They had been traveling for two days, successfully avoiding all patrols in their stolen Bestower. They were nearly at the border of Gallente space, but an hour ago the ship had seemingly come out of nowhere and given pursuit.
“Freya! Take Jarek and get him to the escape pod. I’m confident that we’ll get through this, we are Sebiestor after all! But Jarek needs to be out of harm’s way, just in case” He turned and gave her a kiss on the forehead then looked down at Jarek and gave him a reassuring wink “See you later son”
Freya grabbed Jarek by the hand and headed to the door, glancing back briefly before leaving. “Go! I’ll be fine, just make sure he survives” Erek barked over his shoulder.
Mother and son, ran along the ships corridors toward the escape pods when suddenly an explosion ruptured the hull, Freya grabbed the handrail and Jarek‘s hand in anticipation of the vacuum, but there was silence. Through the breach they could see blue pulsating waves of energy as the Shield Booster repaired the shields. Relived they pressed on, reaching the escape pod a few seconds later. With no time to loose Freya quickly fastened Jarek in place.
“We will be back for you soon my love… don’t worry about a thing” tears trickled down her face as she sealed the pod. Jarek was enveloped in darkness, only a thin ray of light shone through the viewport. Peering out he put his hand against the glass; his mother mirrored the gesture, putting her hand up against his, the emotion was overwhelming, too much to bear. “I love you” He mouthed through the glass. Quickly she set coordinates for Gallente space and hit the eject button, before returning to assist her husband on the bridge.
Jarek lurched forward, his neck straining due to the force with which the pod was blasted out. He gazed out of the viewport seeing the ship becoming smaller and smaller as he accelerated away. The blackness of space was illuminated by the furious fire fight between the two ships.
“Take that you Amarrian scum!” Erek and Freya grinned at each other, their turret was still operational, the capacitor banks still had charge, plus with their combined efforts they had managed to reactivate their “Armour Repair” module. They were quietly confident that this was the last trial they had to endure; their defences were hopefully going to hold! Long range sensors had indicated Gallente ships coming to their aid in response to their distress call. Soon they could recall the pod and press on to freedom, starting a new life together as a family.
Alarms started blaring on the control desk indicating the arrival of more than a dozen ships! They were saved! But, wait! They weren’t Gallente…they couldn’t have got here so fast… the new arrivals opened fire as one.
Content, knowing that their son was safe and on autopilot; Erek and Freya embraced each other and closed their eyes, sharing one final kiss before they were engulfed by the light.

The brightness of the lasers and subsequent explosion almost blinded Jarek before he had chance to shield his eyes. As his vision returned he beheld nothing but debris where his parent’s ship had been not a moment ago, nothing remained but that golden fleet of murderers
Screaming echoed in his mind. He didn’t realise the sound was coming from himself until his lungs started burning. There was nothing he could do, they were gone…
Ezrothian
The Fatal Visionaries
Honorable Third Party
#38 - 2011-09-24 12:13:38 UTC
Aftermath

So precious, those few short seconds between blissful slumber and the crushing weight of reality. Through that hazy mist of blessed confusion, nothing can hurt us or trouble our weary minds. Never has this been so true for me than at that moment.

I remember dreaming of home, of the pink sky I had taken for granted for so long. A tinny, rusty sensation in the back of my throat overtook my wonderful vision. The bitter taste of blood. I swallowed it down, as if they might smell it and stalk me by the scent of it.

How long had I slept for? Anger seethed inside for a moment, but this quickly gave way to the terror which had punctuated my every moment for days. Frozen, I lay there listening, staring ahead at the cables mounted to the side of the vent. They led to the heart of the ship – the captain's chamber, the pod bay.

Was he alive? Was he in there now, swimming in fluid, steering us away from this cursed place? I couldn't hear the engines, or the pulse of the shield. The ship seemed as calm and still as the void of space which surrounded it. It took me a few moments to register that I couldn't hear them, either.

I was, and still am, terribly claustrophobic. At first, I had panicked so much I thought I would burst from my hiding place and give myself to them, such was my horror at being so confined. I knew I had to move, to get out of there.

Wincing at the pain of moving my stiff limbs, I pushed gingerly at the vent cover. It struck me straight away how easily it gave way, yielding to my slight touch. I pulled myself from the vent and slid upright into a sitting position.

I saw her then, and I cried out. Ariana. Her beautiful face stared at me from not twenty feet away, contorted into a perpetual scream. I turned my head further and more of them came into view, all of them seeming to look right at me, pleading to be saved. Each of my crewmates, my friends, were arranged in a circle on our mess chairs, a temporary blood-letting shrine which the Sani Sabik had hastily constructed to quench their thirst.

The memories overtook at that point. I could her screams again.

“Where are you, Sanath, you dishonour us with your absence. Perhaps the smell of your filthy Intaki woman's blood will tear you from your hidey-hole, hmm?”.

Merlonne. The vile Blood Raider officer, calling to me as I lay broken and powerless in the dark, listening to my wife living out her last, terrible moments.

I don't remember moving to her, but now I stood in front of Ariana. Her dusky hair moved to my touch in its captivating dance, catching the light from above and shining like sand in the rays of the sun. I needed be close to her one last time. Reaching out, I put my hands around her waist and pulled her to me, collapsing to the floor with her in my arms. Her body felt like a sack stuffed with bones, her blood drained, stolen by the cultists for their devilish rituals. I held her there for a long time, racked with sobs, overcome with the grief of the moment.

The engines suddenly fired. Terrible thoughts of abduction and slavery filled my mind.

“Glad to see you're awake. I needed some time to restart the systems, my main links were cut. They paid for it though, that I can assure you of. We'll be on our way soon”.

I exhaled in relief at the sound of Jensen's calm and collected voice over the comm. Capsuleers have been guilty of many things, but one can never accuse them of cowardice in the face of adversity. For me, however, that particular evil would always be a yoke around my neck. Laying Ariana down into a sleeping position, I closed her amazing eyes. The voice interrupted me once more.

“You're the carrier, Kelkoi. You know why you had to live. You'll have all eternity to take your revenge when this is over.”

He was right, of course. I knew that. The tears came again, and I lay down, putting my arms around Ariana's body and pulling her close. Closing my eyes, I let the darkness take me into its warm embrace once more, cursing the blood that ran through my veins.








Paintchk
Facepunch Industries
#39 - 2011-09-24 15:31:41 UTC
My post is at http://paintchk-myevestory.blogspot.com/2011/09/trust.html .
It wouldn't fit in the comment section below. Leave a comment or send me a mail in EVE.Cool
Ryek Darkener
Bluestar Enterprises
The Craftsmen
#40 - 2011-09-24 17:28:58 UTC
If you like this, you can find more on scribd.com

Have you?

When Nama entered the room, she felt the hate like an icen dagger in her breast. She straightened up and moved on.
'I will show no weakness,' she thought by herself.
'It had been my decision to save their lives, although against their will.'
Well, more or less. She had been sent as a negotiator to 'solve the problem'. Their had been an 'incident', as there are ever 'incidents' between the Amarr and the Minmatar people, especially in systems where it is not clear to whom they belong. Some ships had been lost, some people had died, and finally the sides had agreed to make a last effort, before it became really bloody.

'Nama, you had been accused having betrayed the Amarrian Empire.'

At first it ran as planned. Her meeting with the Minmatar negotiator became a disaster for them. After changing some sentences she had made him feel that guilty for breaking peace, that he broke into tears and got down to his knees. He had no chance. He would have offered her the whole sector, if she had asked for it.

'You had been accused having worked for our former slaves.'

After the Minmatar delegation had interrupted the negotiations, the CONCORD representative had talked to her.
'I'm really fascinated,' he had said. 'Are you a member of the royal family?'

Nama grinned in mind. No, she wasn't. But it was said, that she was, in direct line, a descendant of one of the prophets. Some of the power seemed to have been passed on to her, over seven thousand years. She was proud for that. But now, her pride seemed to have been the reason for her fall.

'You had been accused handing over Amarrian Property to the Minmatar infidels.'

She winced.
Yes, she had. The CONCORD agent had told her what her own people 'forgot' to tell her. The system was the last one which kept the balance in this sector. On both sides capital fleets were ready for war, and both sides were sure that they would win.

The chairman and his assessors rose up.
'Formally, we have to judge that your action was in favor for both parties.'

The CONCORD agent had managed that they talked to the Amarrian delegation leader under six eyes. As before, it was not hard to change his mind. And as the arguments were fact based, he got the approval to sign a balanced treaty.

'Formally, we have to judge that you did not give preference to one side.'

A new person had assumed the Minmatar representation.

'Formally, we have to state that you are not guilty.'

The Minmatar told Nama that his predecessor had been sentenced to death for betrayal. He had demanded to talk directly to the Amarr leader, and he demanded that she had to leave the place immediately, unless she didn't want to be the reason for war.

'I have killed him with my words, he had no chance,' she thought, as the chairman continued his speech.

'Personally, I want to express my contempt for what you have done. It has been ungodly and a shame for everyone who feels himself being an Amarr. Have you really thought it was up to you to decide when to accept peace and when to make war?'
His voice rose.
'Have you? Really? Thought that your youth and your power gives you the right to rule the Amarrian Empire?'

'Have I?' she thought, and shuddered. The answer was 'yes', but she kept her mouth shut. They would have killed her instantly. And what would come now would be like killing.

'Nama. I have the great satisfaction to tell you the following: You are expelled from the Imperial Academy, forever. And be assured, that no other Amarrian school with a minimum of self-respect will take into consideration to matriculate you.'

She put her hand to her mouth.

'Furthermore, it is a personnel pleasure for me to inform you that your family had applied for removing your surname from your data. We have gladly accepted. From their view you are now deceased. And you are bound to avoid any contact, for lifetime. We are done with you, Nama.'

Deep inside her a dying child started crying helplessly. She turned around and left the life she knew. A 'Mr. Smith' of CONCORD was waiting for her.