Breaking Camp

Here I am, shivering in the cold. May God damn this station and all its inhabitants, especially the superintendent of environmental control! One thing I didn't miss during my time in Pure Blind was waking up in a room only a few degrees above freezing. Now that I’m back in the pirate haven called Amamake, some old irritations were back as well.

Pulling a heavy shirt over my under-clothing and clasping it tight, I rise from bed to don the robes sitting on the chair beside me. Glancing around, nothing much had changed. The dark brown walls are gnarled as ever. The only furniture is a small nightstand and chair next to my bed. Fortunately, I had kept the room when I left the region, but all my belongings were placed in storage. The austere look suited my mood. Snatching a small pouch of isk off the nightstand, I set out to the station promenade. I need breakfast.

I enter the Pirate’s Cove Bar and Grill, though the “Grill” part was a lie by omission; house of ill repute would be more accurate. Appealing aromas of meat, fresh baked bread, spiced wine, and sex linger in the air. The room is mostly empty, lots of unused tables, except for the dark corners. That’s where the rats hide.

Scanning the room, I see the same low-life scum sitting in the same corners as before I had left. Several of them stared back at me, some with looks of surprise, some with knowing watchfulness. A scowl flickers across my otherwise emotionless face. Somehow word of my return to the Bleak Lands had gotten around.

My eyes drift to the raised walkway where a naked Minmatar woman dances slowly. She’s lithe and moves fluidly, and she is very beautiful, seductive… her eyes meet mine, and she reaches toward me, beckoning me. Averting my gaze, I swallow in self contempt for my weakness and find a small table. I sit with my back to the wall, a clear view of the entrance and the bar… and the girl who continues to dance without missing a beat.

“Very pretty girl, eh?”

The barkeep smiles down at me and points to the girl, as if I hadn’t noticed. He is a fat man, a Minmatar in his mid-40s by the looks of him. Long, dirty dreadlocks hang over his shoulders. He wears a T-shirt and jeans, an apron covered with grease and a dirty towel thrown over his shoulder.

“You can buy her, if you like,” he says, “by the hour or day, whatever you want.”

I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t tempted, but I reply curtly, “A bit early to turn tricks, even in this god-forsaken rat hole.”

Laughing, the bartender ignores my insolence, and asks, “Be wantn’ just the morning meal then?”

I hold up the pouch of isk and watch his greedy eyes weigh it. Dropping it on the table, I indicate with a gesture that he should take it.

“So you want the woman after all?” he says, reaching for the bag.

As he claimed the bag, I seize his hand and give a hard, meaningful look.

“I want to resume our previous arrangement.”

The barkeep flinches in pain at my grip on his hand, and answers, “Sure thing, boss. I’d…”

Interrupting, I grab his long black hair and pull the fat man close, whispering into his ear.

“How is it my presence is known here? I took steps to announce that I reside in Pure Blind.”

He whispers back, “You dun' think you can just fly back into this system, after all them black deeds you've done, and not be spotted. Especially after getting kicked out of Gunship and…”

The barkeep stops himself abruptly, realizing he misspoke. So that’s what they thought, that I have been removed from Gunship Diplomacy, my former corporation. I’ve made many enemies in this constellation during the Crusade, enemies that now think I’m so weak G.Dip tossed me out. It didn't matter if the rumor was a half-truth. They would seek blood, my blood, by the gallons.

“I’m in Praetoria Imperialis Excubitoris now. They aren’t what you call scrubs, fat man,” I say, hissing into his ear and then pushing him away roughly.

The bartender rubs his neck with one hand, the isk pouch disappears into his apron with the other. His eyes blink fast.

“Don't want to be on the wrong end of 'em, no argument. But PIE., they ain’t murderers like Gunship, is they? Won't skull fuck ya for the fun of it. They got honor and rules, and now you have to follow them rules, ain’t ya? People ‘round here,” the barkeeper says, waving his hand into the mostly empty room, “they won’t know what to think, will they?”

I scowl.

“Not like I know,” the bartender quickly adds, reading my mood, “that you are still the man you were, I mean are… the killer, I mean.”

Sighing, I realize the fat man is right. A display of power is in order, lest my enemies fall upon me. Leaning forward, my gaze hardens on the barkeeper.

“Tell me what I want to know.”

The barkeeper grins, sits down, and leans close. His voice is low, and he whispers non-stop for ten minutes. When he’s done, I smile at him. This agent knows his business, giving me every bit of information I want.

I glance over at the girl dancing on the platform, sweat gleaming on her naked body, so lovely. People are noticing our conversation. Word will spread…

“So we’re square, then?” he asks, patting the pouch under his apron.

I remove a second, larger pouch from my robes and drop it on the table. The bartender eyes it greedily.

“I’m not going to have time to eat. Clean up the girl and send her to my room with a tray in an hour. And if anyone asks why we are talking, it was over the girl’s price for the day.”


***


Inhaling the thick pod fluid into my lungs, I resist the gag reflex. Breathing in and out, choking on the air bubbles I expel, I finally acclimate. Systems come online and I begin the undocking sequence. During my travels in the north, I had modified my Harbinger battlecruiser. Once called the Pike, now she is is even more deadly than before and rechristened The Empresses’s Ship, Justice.

I warp to Dal and jump into system. Moving quickly, I relocate to a planet and begin scanning. The information I purchased is spot on. The gate camp is where he said it would be. There are fifteen hostiles in local, and four on scan. I ponder the tactical situation.

A destroyer, cruiser and a battlecruiser sit on the Auga gate. Off grid, a Muninn heavy assault cruiser lies in wait, no doubt to offer sniper support should the group on the gate engage the Amarr. They are unaware of my intention, not realizing they are prey being stalked. The first move was clear.

I warp to the Muninn piloted by Thunder Downunder and land 5km off his bow. The fool isn’t aligned, and my disruptor and web come alive, crippling him. His ship is fit for sniper support, not for close range action. My first broadside tears into his shields and goes unanswered. The lasers on my Harbinger discharge in ruthless rhythm, tearing apart the Muninn. When the last carronade sounds and Thunder’s ship is reduced to twisted metal, he had failed to even strip the shields off TES Justice.

But I’m not finished, not yet. My enemies need to see a display of power, and power I would show them. Fire and death will announce my return to the battlefield! Despite being outnumbered, despite enemy reinforcements in local, I align to the Auga gate and warp to the gate camp. Having destroyed their sniper support, they will be off balance and I would strike them with terrible ferocity. Pure guile will turn the tide in my favor.

Landing among the three ships, a Bellicose cruiser, Thrasher destroyer, and Prophesy battlecruiser, I target Zostrallis’s Thrasher first. My enemies are startled such they didn’t even lock target until my first broadside cuts deeply into Zostralli’s armor. Despite the repair drones offered by the Prophesy, he falls quickly.

Next, I turn my guns on Xan Kereth in the Bellicose. Now I am taking fire. Missiles slam into my shields, punctuated by the sizzle of enemy lasers. But it is not enough. I tear through the Bellicose with ease. Flying over Xan’s broken, burning hull with satisfaction, I turn my guns on the Prophesy.

Carronades roll in high pitched whines as the two Amarrain battlecruisers fire upon one another. I am confident that victory is mine. But then two more hostile ships arrive, splitting my attention. Another destroyer and frigate appear on the overview. Deactivating my guns, I lock the new hostiles.

I recognize one of them. I had earlier escaped from a gate trap where Wei Evolon had engaged me in a battleship. Now he thought he could do the same in a Catalyst destroyer. The fool! I overheat my guns and fire! Lasers tear into his ship, slicing through armor and hull. In short order, Wei’s destroyer explodes in space.

Now it is just me against the Executioner frigate and Prophesy battlecruiser. The Executioner is little more than a fly, buzzing around, and I ignore it accordingly. Instead, I turned the full weight of my firepower on the Prophecy. I exchange renewed fire with the enemy battlecruiser again, this time breaking his active tank. At the last moment, he jumps into Auga. Had it not been for the destroyer drawing my attention, the Prophecy would have fallen.

I sigh. The executioner continued to circle with his warp disruptor holding me down. I only have EC-300 drones, rather than my usual complement of Warrior II.

Whatever.

Laughing, I watch the impudent little frigate fly around as I slow-boat 12km back to the gate. I take time to fire the enemy wrecks before jumping into Auga. Setting course back to Amamake, I arrive at my home station and repair battle damage. My armor is stripped and needs replacing, but my Harbinger is none the worse for wear.

My enemies needed to see a demonstration of power, and I gave them one. I killed a Muninn heavy assault cruiser, two destroyers, a cruiser and drove off a battlecruiser. The Minmatar were schooled today, and I put a fine point on the lesson. There can be no mistake now; I’m back.


***


I return to my room. As the door slides shut, I stretch away the muscle aches. Pulling off my robes, I rub my neck and fumble with the clasp on my over-shirt as I head for the shower. Something smells good. Pausing, I turn to find a tray of roasted meat, cheese and bread on my nightstand. I had forgotten…

“Is master hungry?”

I turn toward the soft voice, the Minmatar slave girl who had been dancing at the bar earlier. She wore a lacey pink thong and nothing else. My jaw clenches as desire and morality clash within me. The girl approaches and unfastens the broach holding my shirt, seeming to know this conflict, to understand. How many other Amarrian men has she been with, that this slave can read me so well? The shirt slips to the ground, and she playfully fusses with my paints while softly kissing my chest.

She smells like desire itself, and her questioning look sets my soul on fire. I know better than to be seduced by a slave. It never ends with just sex. Her presence is nothing more than a cover for my conversation with the barkeeper. I’m stronger than this…

"Is master not pleased?" the slave asks, her eyes meeting mine, pleading...

I will repent tomorrow.

“Dessert first,” I answer, laying her down on my bed.



PIE. swatyy

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