The gathering in Amarr is well underway. Imperial ships in all their Amarrian glory line up in formation. Comms crackle with anticipation about the imminent arrival of the CVA fleet. PIE pilots arrive in their best Golden Ships to show the flag. Empress Jamyl's anniversary is an event to remember.
I too sit in anticipation, but not on the line with my fellow PIE pilots. I'm in deep space. Combat logs flicker across the neural interface, ship types, CONCORD presence, formations... The firepower on this field is impressive. But I have learned to use confusion to my advantage, and it will be my cloak now.
I recall my last conversation with the fat man, my contact in Amamake...
***
"Got the Intel you wanted, Swatyy," the fat man said, pushing a note over the bar. "My contact says he's gonna be there."
I flip the note over, read it, and drop a black credit disc on the counter. I place the note over a candle on the bar. Flames consume the paper.
"You promised to be my undertaker," I say. "When it's done, they might come for me. If the worst happens, see my ashes are returned to Mi."
The fat man pockets the disc, and then leans close.
"Ya sure this is where you wanna do it, to kill a PIE officer?"
I smile sinisterly.
"It's perfect."
***
I'm pulled back to the present by a blinking indicator. Hiigaren is on the field, just undocked. I spring the trap. My warp drive comes alive and I fall 10 km from my fellow PIE pilot, my superior officer, my target. The hot-lock goes live, pulsing carronades slice into Hiigaren's Harbinger hull. The humming produced by the overheating lasers is musical; the multifrequency lights dancing upon my enemy is pure art. Space ripples in the flash, a blindingly bright explosion. I'm off the field.
It is a textbook strike and escape. Amarr local collectively gasps, but not because the CVA fleet honoring Jamyl just arrived. No, it's the razed and burning wreck outside the Emperor's station that has people talking. Shouts of "heretic!" and "terrorists!" are repeated over open comms, but no one knows what just happened. Confusion and fear grip the faithful who gathered for the celebration, as I jump out of the Amarr system.
***
"He's the traitor!" a man says to a guard as I pass, openly pointing.
"Don't worry, citizen. We are keeping an eye on him," the guard replies, eying me suspiciously.
I once found the brightly lit halls and tight security on the 24th Imperial Crusade station comforting, but not today. Word of my actions, my dishonoring the Empress by attacking a PIE officer, had spread across the front lines. Now I find myself in a place where there are no shadows to hide in, and armed loyalist guards are everywhere.
Whispers and hostile stares follow me. The guard at the Emperor's Corner, a gated community where I own a residence, checks twice for an arrest order before dropping my ID card rudely on the counter.
As I pass, he mutters, "God forsaken pirate."
I may be a pariah, but at least I'm not wanted... not yet anyway. I step into my condo and close the door behind me. Breathing deeply, I detect Mi's perfume. How am I going to explain this to her? I had anticipated blow back, but things are escalating beyond my expectation. Leaning against the wall, I rub my eyes... so tired.
I feel a hand on my shoulder and start. Turning quickly, I see Mi. She is dressed in a white gown, the necklace I gave her gracing the low neckline. Dark hair hangs freely, contrasting with her dress. But it is her eyes that capture me, deep eyes, full of understanding and pity.
Best to just deal with things. I take a deep breath to speak, but Mi puts her finger over my mouth.
"Shhh," she coos, taking my hand and leading me.
I'm too tired to resist. Mi leads me to the bathroom where a hot bath is prepared. She must have been watching the docking manifest for my arrival.
"I have to tell you something," I say.
Mi says nothing and smiles softly as she unfastens my robe's clasp and undoes the ties. I disrobe and slide into the bath, letting the hot water envelope me for several seconds. When I come up for air, I find Mi sitting at the tub's side. She is holding the PIE insignia that was on my coat.
Looking hard at the token, she says, "I'm not sorry you did it."
I blink water from my eyes. Of course she would know. News like this traveled faster than light speed.
"You heard?"
Mi nods, and wraps her arms around my neck, leaning her head against mine.
"I don't know what's going to happen next, Mi," I say, kissing her hand.
Whispering in my ear, she says, "I do."
I turn to look at her, surprised. Mi smiles coyly and drops my PIE insignia into the waste basket. Then she produces a communiqué.
"Your dishonorable discharge papers from PIE, delivered this morning by courier," Mi says, "And this, our eviction notice from the Emperor's Corner for 'unbecoming behavior'."
I should be troubled, but for some reason I'm not. Maybe reality has yet to catch up with me, but for the moment I find the absurdity hilarious. I look into Mi's eyes and can see we share the same thought...
"Yes, we can move back to Amamake."
I slide down into the tub again, Mi's giggling muffled by the water.
*** Multimedia Addendium ***
Eve-Online Forum Post
YouTube Video
Friday, October 9, 2009
Saturday, October 3, 2009
Friends and Enemies
I walk into the Pirate's Cove Bar and Grill, a popular haunt in Amamake. It's a full house. The dance floor is packed with people grinding to loud, trendy Minmatar music. Tobacco smoke hangs thick. The music is so loud, it shakes my body. Slave girls dance exuberantly on tables where free men and women alike toss isk at them. Pills and drinks are strewn on the bar. Glass platters with white powder cut neatly into lines are passed around. Shadows move in the side rooms, bodies moving in unison behind thin curtains.
Normally I frequent the bar during off hours, but today I need to talk with my contact in private. A massively crowded, loud Friday night in the Pirate's Cove is the perfect place to guarantee a discreet meeting. No one even glances at me. Few people in this crowd know who I am, and they are so inebriated or drugged they don't recognize anything but the haze enveloping them.
Moving to the bar, I slide onto a stool. A middle-aged woman rushes back and forth filling orders and sending out trays. I pull out a stack of isk and drop a few copper discs to get the server's attention. In a fluid motion, she scoops the isk, puts a drink in front of me and slides a platter of cut white powder toward me.
I push the platter away. Slowly, meaningfully, I place a black disc on the table. Now her attention is undivided. I point to the large bulk of a man on the far end of the bar. She nods and takes the isk to the fat man. I watch the woman hand him the isk. He glances my way and disappears into the back.
I down the drink and follow through the dark hall way into a dimly lit room. It's a broom closet converted into a small office. The sweet cannabis smoke almost masks the odor of sweat and sex. Music pounds through the wall, rattling crooked pictures indiscernible in the shadows. My eyes fall on the fat man sitting in the corner with a bottle in his hand. A wide smile spreads behind a tangle of dreadlocks hanging over his face. He motions to a second chair.
"How's yer lady? I hear you swept her off to some fancy pansy mansion on the Amarr side 'o the boarder," the fat man says.
"Mi is well," I answer curtly.
"Sure she is," the fat man laughs. "Minmatar women, they don't keep like spice wine, all bottled up."
This conversation strikes a nerve. When I told Mi I purchased her a condo fitting her station, luxurious by any standard, she wasn't enthusiastic. Mi likes her own kind, low born and uncouth. Mi and I are so very much alike...
I produce an envelope and offer it to the fat man, abruptly changing the subject.
"I require information regarding this pilots movement on the Minmatar side of the border."
The fat man eyes the envelope. Pulling the dreadlocks on the left side of his face behind his ear, he looks at me hard and offers a drink.
"Been awhile since you did wet work. Contract killin', that's not what PIE does, is it?"
I sit down and take the drink.
"No contracts. This is strictly personal."
The fat man opens the envelope and pulls out the data sheet. His face cycles through emotions as if he were a performing mime, surprise, disbelief, confusion.
"Yer fucking daft! Hiigaren is the mark, a fucking PIE Lieutenant?"
I down the drink in a single swell and place the empty glass on the table.
I look directly at the fat man, a cold, emotionless gaze, and say, "I'm going to burn him down."
The fat man answers incredulously, "And when yer done fukkin Hiigaren's corpse, what's gonna happen to you? PIE ain't no band o' rags. They ain't gonna like you killin’ yer own."
"Hiigaren is my superior officer, and he called me out in public. That means he leaves his rank in the hangar when he undocks."
"Is them the Admiral’s rules or yours? " The fat man snorts, "You ever been hung, Swatty? 'Cuz that's what PIE does to traitors."
We both know I’m breaking protocol, that these matters should be handled through the chain of command. The problem is that I really don’t care. Hiigaren threw down over open comms., in front of the entire corporation. I’m not going to run to ‘daddy Admiral’ and cry. I’m going to handle it in space like the killer I am, and one of us is going to lose a ship in the process.
I give the fat man a hard look. Nothing more needs saying.
"Fuck it then," the fat man says, filling my glass and raising his own. "Drop another black credit and I'll be yer fucking undertaker too."
==================
*Begin Public Comm. Log*
[23:36:47] EVE System > Channel MOTD: PIE channel for general informal banter and liasoning with close allies in the war. OOC chat is entirely acceptable.
Access requests for alts should be sent to Gaven Lok'ri.
[23:37:10] Raphael Saint > wb Jhae
[23:37:30] Hiigaren > Hey Swatyy!
[23:37:33] Hiigaren > finaly we meet
[23:37:38] Hiigaren > i heared your gonna kill me
[23:37:41] Raphael Saint > lol
[23:37:55] Hiigaren > How does Sunday evening works for you, i have a free moment then
[23:38:23] Jhaelee de'Auvrie > having network issues with my secondary computer
[23:38:58] Swatyy > Am I going to kill you Hii? I suppose Sunday works for me, if you like.
[23:39:05] Swatyy > Um... why am I killing you?
[23:39:30] Hiigaren > I dont know, i normaly dont ask for the reason
[23:40:41] Swatyy > ok. wth, never needed a reason before. I'll be looking for you in space.
[23:41:01] Hiigaren > Yeah i;m in lantron :)
[23:41:40] Swatyy > Let me write down your name so I don't forget you...
[23:41:59] Raphael Saint > That's not going to work
[23:42:04] Raphael Saint > Hiig is very forgettable
[23:42:29] Hiigaren > Dont blame me, lots of ppl wanne kill me
[23:42:39] Hiigaren > Its not like this is a special event for me
[23:43:57] Hiigaren > once a guy try to kill me in a 0.5 system, but forgot he wasnt at war with me, briljant move on his part
[23:45:10] Hiigaren > So swatty
[23:45:19] Hiigaren > how would you like the beating, medium or rare
[23:45:48] Swatyy > I don't even know what that means.
[23:46:00] Hiigaren > Oh come on
[23:46:59] Hiigaren > I got a assasion with no humour after me
[23:47:47] Swatyy > yep.
[23:50:39] Hiigaren > well i guess Assasions arnt what they used to be!
[23:51:29] Swatyy > Hii, your kind of mouthy. Don't know what your deal is, but having another person to shoot is fine by me.
[23:51:56] Hiigaren > Swatty ur the 1 started the whole' should i kill hiig thing '
[23:52:54] Swatyy > I don't even know who you are, and didn't want to kill you until a few minutes ago.
[23:53:05] Swatyy > But its cool. Whatever it is, we will sort it out in space.
[23:53:31] Hiigaren > Thats funny
[23:53:41] Hiigaren > i guess soembody esle is writing on the forums with ur name
[23:54:09] Swatyy > Can you give me the link?
[23:54:55] Hiigaren > Uhm i think its in a post from shalee ^^
[23:55:43] Swatyy > Oh... you were they guy who dressed her down, right? The whole former admeral thing.
[23:55:49] Swatyy > Sure, I'll kill you.
[23:55:56] Hiigaren > Uhm acuelty no i wasnt
[23:56:24] Merdaneth > o/
[23:56:29] Hiigaren > SPeak of the devil
[23:56:37] Hiigaren > hey merd
Normally I frequent the bar during off hours, but today I need to talk with my contact in private. A massively crowded, loud Friday night in the Pirate's Cove is the perfect place to guarantee a discreet meeting. No one even glances at me. Few people in this crowd know who I am, and they are so inebriated or drugged they don't recognize anything but the haze enveloping them.
Moving to the bar, I slide onto a stool. A middle-aged woman rushes back and forth filling orders and sending out trays. I pull out a stack of isk and drop a few copper discs to get the server's attention. In a fluid motion, she scoops the isk, puts a drink in front of me and slides a platter of cut white powder toward me.
I push the platter away. Slowly, meaningfully, I place a black disc on the table. Now her attention is undivided. I point to the large bulk of a man on the far end of the bar. She nods and takes the isk to the fat man. I watch the woman hand him the isk. He glances my way and disappears into the back.
I down the drink and follow through the dark hall way into a dimly lit room. It's a broom closet converted into a small office. The sweet cannabis smoke almost masks the odor of sweat and sex. Music pounds through the wall, rattling crooked pictures indiscernible in the shadows. My eyes fall on the fat man sitting in the corner with a bottle in his hand. A wide smile spreads behind a tangle of dreadlocks hanging over his face. He motions to a second chair.
"How's yer lady? I hear you swept her off to some fancy pansy mansion on the Amarr side 'o the boarder," the fat man says.
"Mi is well," I answer curtly.
"Sure she is," the fat man laughs. "Minmatar women, they don't keep like spice wine, all bottled up."
This conversation strikes a nerve. When I told Mi I purchased her a condo fitting her station, luxurious by any standard, she wasn't enthusiastic. Mi likes her own kind, low born and uncouth. Mi and I are so very much alike...
I produce an envelope and offer it to the fat man, abruptly changing the subject.
"I require information regarding this pilots movement on the Minmatar side of the border."
The fat man eyes the envelope. Pulling the dreadlocks on the left side of his face behind his ear, he looks at me hard and offers a drink.
"Been awhile since you did wet work. Contract killin', that's not what PIE does, is it?"
I sit down and take the drink.
"No contracts. This is strictly personal."
The fat man opens the envelope and pulls out the data sheet. His face cycles through emotions as if he were a performing mime, surprise, disbelief, confusion.
"Yer fucking daft! Hiigaren is the mark, a fucking PIE Lieutenant?"
I down the drink in a single swell and place the empty glass on the table.
I look directly at the fat man, a cold, emotionless gaze, and say, "I'm going to burn him down."
The fat man answers incredulously, "And when yer done fukkin Hiigaren's corpse, what's gonna happen to you? PIE ain't no band o' rags. They ain't gonna like you killin’ yer own."
"Hiigaren is my superior officer, and he called me out in public. That means he leaves his rank in the hangar when he undocks."
"Is them the Admiral’s rules or yours? " The fat man snorts, "You ever been hung, Swatty? 'Cuz that's what PIE does to traitors."
We both know I’m breaking protocol, that these matters should be handled through the chain of command. The problem is that I really don’t care. Hiigaren threw down over open comms., in front of the entire corporation. I’m not going to run to ‘daddy Admiral’ and cry. I’m going to handle it in space like the killer I am, and one of us is going to lose a ship in the process.
I give the fat man a hard look. Nothing more needs saying.
"Fuck it then," the fat man says, filling my glass and raising his own. "Drop another black credit and I'll be yer fucking undertaker too."
==================
*Begin Public Comm. Log*
[23:36:47] EVE System > Channel MOTD: PIE channel for general informal banter and liasoning with close allies in the war. OOC chat is entirely acceptable.
Access requests for alts should be sent to Gaven Lok'ri.
[23:37:10] Raphael Saint > wb Jhae
[23:37:30] Hiigaren > Hey Swatyy!
[23:37:33] Hiigaren > finaly we meet
[23:37:38] Hiigaren > i heared your gonna kill me
[23:37:41] Raphael Saint > lol
[23:37:55] Hiigaren > How does Sunday evening works for you, i have a free moment then
[23:38:23] Jhaelee de'Auvrie > having network issues with my secondary computer
[23:38:58] Swatyy > Am I going to kill you Hii? I suppose Sunday works for me, if you like.
[23:39:05] Swatyy > Um... why am I killing you?
[23:39:30] Hiigaren > I dont know, i normaly dont ask for the reason
[23:40:41] Swatyy > ok. wth, never needed a reason before. I'll be looking for you in space.
[23:41:01] Hiigaren > Yeah i;m in lantron :)
[23:41:40] Swatyy > Let me write down your name so I don't forget you...
[23:41:59] Raphael Saint > That's not going to work
[23:42:04] Raphael Saint > Hiig is very forgettable
[23:42:29] Hiigaren > Dont blame me, lots of ppl wanne kill me
[23:42:39] Hiigaren > Its not like this is a special event for me
[23:43:57] Hiigaren > once a guy try to kill me in a 0.5 system, but forgot he wasnt at war with me, briljant move on his part
[23:45:10] Hiigaren > So swatty
[23:45:19] Hiigaren > how would you like the beating, medium or rare
[23:45:48] Swatyy > I don't even know what that means.
[23:46:00] Hiigaren > Oh come on
[23:46:59] Hiigaren > I got a assasion with no humour after me
[23:47:47] Swatyy > yep.
[23:50:39] Hiigaren > well i guess Assasions arnt what they used to be!
[23:51:29] Swatyy > Hii, your kind of mouthy. Don't know what your deal is, but having another person to shoot is fine by me.
[23:51:56] Hiigaren > Swatty ur the 1 started the whole' should i kill hiig thing '
[23:52:54] Swatyy > I don't even know who you are, and didn't want to kill you until a few minutes ago.
[23:53:05] Swatyy > But its cool. Whatever it is, we will sort it out in space.
[23:53:31] Hiigaren > Thats funny
[23:53:41] Hiigaren > i guess soembody esle is writing on the forums with ur name
[23:54:09] Swatyy > Can you give me the link?
[23:54:55] Hiigaren > Uhm i think its in a post from shalee ^^
[23:55:43] Swatyy > Oh... you were they guy who dressed her down, right? The whole former admeral thing.
[23:55:49] Swatyy > Sure, I'll kill you.
[23:55:56] Hiigaren > Uhm acuelty no i wasnt
[23:56:24] Merdaneth > o/
[23:56:29] Hiigaren > SPeak of the devil
[23:56:37] Hiigaren > hey merd
Friday, September 11, 2009
A Clean Slate
I round the corner and hit a robed figure hard in the shoulder. Without pausing, I continue my hurried pace.
"Excuse me!" exclaims the man, sarcastically.
Ignoring him, I move briskly down the walkway to the station promenade, a large open area where shops are arranged in neat blocks. My surroundings are still unfamiliar; the 24th Crusade station where I am taking a "working" vacation is clean and well lit. People shuffle past me, none with any sense of urgency. Relaxing elevator music fills the air, dampening the sounds of chit chat from Amarrian shoppers enjoying themselves. People are at ease...
But I have a problem, a 280 lb problem that runs a tavern and whore house on my home station in Amamake. Nothing in Amamake is nice, per say, not the facilities and certainly not the people. Full of pirates, cut throats, and war targets, the border lands are where I feel the most comfortable. But I needed to get behind friendly lines and meet my corp. mates, and so I did. But now reality comes for me and reminds me that I'm not of this world. The fat man is a 'familiar,' an icon from my dark, cold existence, and he has information for me. I consider our previous conversation.
***
"Why are you calling me?" I ask, interrupting the fat man's incoherent blabbering.
It is early, for me at least. The excess spice wine I indulged in with my fellow PIE pilots last night caught up with me. The last thing I feel like looking at is the man on the comm. screen.
"Like I said, boss, I got the information you wanted," he says exasperated.
I try to blink sleep away. He is a regular informant on a variety of subjects, and I have no idea what he is talking about.
"So tell me," I ask crossly.
"No, no... can't do that, not on an open line," the fat man says, waving his hands emphatically. "This news is too big for that. You should come back so I can tells' you what I know."
I take a deep breath and say, "There is no way I'm going back to Amamake now. I'm enjoying myself too much."
The man rings his hands, correctly judging that was the end of the matter on my part. Then he throws a curve ball.
"I'm coming out there to tell you, then, boss."
"What? No, you are not! I'm on a 24th IC station," I retort.
"You will pay me good for what I know. See you soon!"
Before I can object further, the screen cuts out. I shake my head. The fat man is my best informant so I'll humor him. Still, this had better be damn good...
***
The fat man refused to give me the information over comms. While that irritates me, it is the wise choice for his health. Transmissions crossing the low security boarder lands are frequently intercepted. But he could give me more than 10 minutes notice before the garbage scowl he booked passage on is due to dock.
The fat man is a freed Minmatar. He has papers, but he will need an Amarrian to check him into a 24th Imperial Crusade station. Quiet and discreet are not qualities he possesses, and the fewer people who know I associate with him the better. As I turn the corner to the security hall, I glance at the hanging time piece... and slam straight into someone coming around the corner in the other direction.
"Watch the fuck where you are going!" I snarl, reeling backwards.
I look up to see Lieutenant Shalee staring at me in shock, her blue eyes wide. She sucks in her breath with a hiss and puts her hands over her mouth. I look down at the man I collided with, who I knocked to the floor.
Aw, shit...
Captain Vaarun, the officer who recruited me into PIE, looks back at me. What was going through his mind? From the expression on his face, I'd draw a weapon were I home in Amamake. My hand twitches toward the dagger hidden in my waist belt before I remember where I am and master the impulse. Vaarun and I hold each other's gaze for a few moments before Shalee interjects.
"Well, help him up, Swatyy," she says severely.
Only then do I realize I am still scowling down at Vaarun. Taking a deep breath, I offer my hand.
"I'm sorry. It's my fault," I say, making an effort to be contrite. It's not something I express well...
Vaarun takes my hand and stands up. He regards me keenly for a moment. Then his features soften.
"I guess this is a good thing. We were just talking about you," Vaarun says.
"Looking for you, actually," Shalee adds, glancing at Vaarun.
No one speaks. I arch an eyebrow.
"We were thinking about what you said last night, about not being able to get a living space on the station," Shalee says.
I try to recall what I said about moving to the station. Last night is a blur, and I was surprised that the PIE officers can hold their liquor better than many pirates. They drank me under the table.
"I made inquiries, but the station manager said there were no vacancies for the foreseeable future."
"I can help you with that," Vaarun says. "24th IC stations often keep some housing vacant for senior PIE officers. You don't qualify yet, but I can sponsor you."
"And you would do this for me?"
Shalee chimes, "We want you to have a nice place to live, especially now that you have a Lady to look after. Amamake is soooo grungy."
"And PIE pilots have a certain reputation to maintain. We need to avoid the appearance of vice or evil," Vaarun says, adding shrewdly. "If you have a place here, you won't need the room at Tribal Core Logistics."
"You know about that?"
"I recruited you, Swatyy. I know great deal about you and your prior activities," Vaarun says. "Look, you have a clean slate here. We all have reasons for taking the paths that bring us to this point. I just want to make sure you have the opportunity to do right."
People doing nice things for no reason, here is something new. And Shalee is right about Amamake being no place for a Lady, regardless of her history. Mi would like it here.
"The person I spoke with said there is a duplex in the Emperor's Corner that is unoccupied, but reserved. That is my first choice."
"Mine too..." Shalee says, under her breath. "Those places cost a fortune."
"Yes, those are reserved for us, but...," Vaarun says, glancing between Shalee and me, "perhaps you would like something very nice, but more affordable."
"I'll take the duplex. If you would be so kind as submit the sponsorship, I can put the necessary isk into escrow immediately," I say.
Vaarun pauses. I try to discern his thoughts. Why was he hesitating? Was he angling for something? Or is he just surprised someone who looks like I do has that kind of isk? Maybe if I offer something in return.
"I'm happy to offer a 10% finder’s fee, of course," I say, not realizing until after the words leave my mouth how it sounds.
"No, no," Vaarun says, shaking his hands. "I didn't mean that. I mean, those suites are usually reserved for high ranking officials, and even they don't rent them over the cost."
Shalee turns pink. I realize she thinks I just tried to bribe a Captain. I don't think of it that way. It is merely reciprocating a kindness, even if it is through a quid pro quo. But I do see how it looks, and right after Vaarun's talk about "appearances." Thinking quickly, I cease on a way to salvage the situation.
I smile and say with as much sincerity I can muster for a bald faced lie, "Please don't misunderstand. I meant for the Homes for Amarrian War Orphans charity you are involved in. I'm happy to make a donation in gratitude."
Shalee wears that same skeptical look she gave me when I tried the "for God and Empire" routine in the bar last week. She didn't buy that line then, and she sure as hell isn't buying this line now. Vaarun on the other hand... he blinks a few times, clearly doing a quick calculation.
"That... that would do a great deal of good in many lives," Vaarun says, before adding suspiciously, "How did you know I am helping war orphans?"
I half-smile, half smirk and say, "You are my recruitment officer, Captain. I know a great deal about you."
Shalee rolls her eyes and crosses her arms, giving me an accusing look that speaks for itself.
You are *such* a scoundrel.
"Normally, I wouldn't accept anything, but since it's for orphans... 10% you say?"
I smile.
"Yes, it is my pleasure to give back to those who are in such distress," I say, adding, "I look forward to spending more time among the faithful. I understand there is a code, a series of principles that we are bound by, and I don't want to do anything that..."
A shouting voice interrupts me, and captures our attention. I recognize that voice...
"Get yer' fucking hands off me! I've got my papers! I'm with Swatyy. I'm his man!"
A large man rounds the corner. He is dressed in a dirty white t-shirt and torn trousers. Long, unkempt dreadlocks obscure his face as he tries to make his way forward, but two guards hold him back.
"There he is!" the fat man says, pointing emphatically at me. "He will tell ya, ask him! Get your damn hands off me!"
Both Shalee and Vaarun look at me disbelievingly. I close my eyes for a moment and attempt to master myself.
"Excuse me a moment," I say, bowing stiffly before walking down the hall to where the fat man is detained.
As I approach, a guard steps forward to meet me. I adjust my robes to make the PIE uniform and insignia underneath visible. He salutes me, and I return the gesture.
"Do you know this man?" the guard asks.
"He is my charge," I answer.
"Sign here, please, sir," the guard says, handing me a clipboard. He takes a derisive look at the fat man and adds, "Would you like us to place a tracking anklet on him for his stay?"
"Fucking hell if I'll let you tag me like an animal," the fat man says.
I arch an eyebrow as I sign my name. Next to the "duration of visit" field, I fill in "10 minutes."
"I don't think so. He won't be here long enough," I reply.
The enormity of my history, my past becomes vividly clear at this moment. I can't pretend to be anything other than what I am, nor do I have any desire to do otherwise. It wasn't all lies; I do have a code, and they are aligned with PIE. A resolves hardens in me.
I will be true to my nature. I will not compromise. I will seek glory for myself first, and in doing so strengthen the Empire. The ends will justify whatever means are necessary.
I hand the clipboard to the guard and he looks it over.
Regarding me, he says, "You are aware that this man is in your custody and your responsibility while on this station. You are responsible for his conduct."
"I would have it no other way," I say.
The fat man beams at me. I scowl back and pull him away from the guard by the wall. Shalee and Vaarun whisper to each other.
"Tell me why you are here."
"Sure thing, boss, but we need to talk price first," the fat man says, perfectly pleased with himself.
"Price? You have compromised my position here. Do you see them?" I hiss, indicating Vaarun and Shalee, who were watching attentively at the far end of the hall.
The fat man gawks. I lean forward, stepping into the fat man's personal space, backing him against the wall.
"They are PIE officers, and they would think much higher of me if I rid myself of you. Hear me well, you barter your life with the information you claim to have. If I am not satisfied, I will tell the guards you are a Minmatar spy, trading information across the border."
The fat man went pale. It didn't matter if my allegations were true or not, and he knew it. He swallowed and began talking.
"It's about Morsus Mihi, boss. It's about them that killed you.”
My jaw clenches…
"Excuse me!" exclaims the man, sarcastically.
Ignoring him, I move briskly down the walkway to the station promenade, a large open area where shops are arranged in neat blocks. My surroundings are still unfamiliar; the 24th Crusade station where I am taking a "working" vacation is clean and well lit. People shuffle past me, none with any sense of urgency. Relaxing elevator music fills the air, dampening the sounds of chit chat from Amarrian shoppers enjoying themselves. People are at ease...
But I have a problem, a 280 lb problem that runs a tavern and whore house on my home station in Amamake. Nothing in Amamake is nice, per say, not the facilities and certainly not the people. Full of pirates, cut throats, and war targets, the border lands are where I feel the most comfortable. But I needed to get behind friendly lines and meet my corp. mates, and so I did. But now reality comes for me and reminds me that I'm not of this world. The fat man is a 'familiar,' an icon from my dark, cold existence, and he has information for me. I consider our previous conversation.
***
"Why are you calling me?" I ask, interrupting the fat man's incoherent blabbering.
It is early, for me at least. The excess spice wine I indulged in with my fellow PIE pilots last night caught up with me. The last thing I feel like looking at is the man on the comm. screen.
"Like I said, boss, I got the information you wanted," he says exasperated.
I try to blink sleep away. He is a regular informant on a variety of subjects, and I have no idea what he is talking about.
"So tell me," I ask crossly.
"No, no... can't do that, not on an open line," the fat man says, waving his hands emphatically. "This news is too big for that. You should come back so I can tells' you what I know."
I take a deep breath and say, "There is no way I'm going back to Amamake now. I'm enjoying myself too much."
The man rings his hands, correctly judging that was the end of the matter on my part. Then he throws a curve ball.
"I'm coming out there to tell you, then, boss."
"What? No, you are not! I'm on a 24th IC station," I retort.
"You will pay me good for what I know. See you soon!"
Before I can object further, the screen cuts out. I shake my head. The fat man is my best informant so I'll humor him. Still, this had better be damn good...
***
The fat man refused to give me the information over comms. While that irritates me, it is the wise choice for his health. Transmissions crossing the low security boarder lands are frequently intercepted. But he could give me more than 10 minutes notice before the garbage scowl he booked passage on is due to dock.
The fat man is a freed Minmatar. He has papers, but he will need an Amarrian to check him into a 24th Imperial Crusade station. Quiet and discreet are not qualities he possesses, and the fewer people who know I associate with him the better. As I turn the corner to the security hall, I glance at the hanging time piece... and slam straight into someone coming around the corner in the other direction.
"Watch the fuck where you are going!" I snarl, reeling backwards.
I look up to see Lieutenant Shalee staring at me in shock, her blue eyes wide. She sucks in her breath with a hiss and puts her hands over her mouth. I look down at the man I collided with, who I knocked to the floor.
Aw, shit...
Captain Vaarun, the officer who recruited me into PIE, looks back at me. What was going through his mind? From the expression on his face, I'd draw a weapon were I home in Amamake. My hand twitches toward the dagger hidden in my waist belt before I remember where I am and master the impulse. Vaarun and I hold each other's gaze for a few moments before Shalee interjects.
"Well, help him up, Swatyy," she says severely.
Only then do I realize I am still scowling down at Vaarun. Taking a deep breath, I offer my hand.
"I'm sorry. It's my fault," I say, making an effort to be contrite. It's not something I express well...
Vaarun takes my hand and stands up. He regards me keenly for a moment. Then his features soften.
"I guess this is a good thing. We were just talking about you," Vaarun says.
"Looking for you, actually," Shalee adds, glancing at Vaarun.
No one speaks. I arch an eyebrow.
"We were thinking about what you said last night, about not being able to get a living space on the station," Shalee says.
I try to recall what I said about moving to the station. Last night is a blur, and I was surprised that the PIE officers can hold their liquor better than many pirates. They drank me under the table.
"I made inquiries, but the station manager said there were no vacancies for the foreseeable future."
"I can help you with that," Vaarun says. "24th IC stations often keep some housing vacant for senior PIE officers. You don't qualify yet, but I can sponsor you."
"And you would do this for me?"
Shalee chimes, "We want you to have a nice place to live, especially now that you have a Lady to look after. Amamake is soooo grungy."
"And PIE pilots have a certain reputation to maintain. We need to avoid the appearance of vice or evil," Vaarun says, adding shrewdly. "If you have a place here, you won't need the room at Tribal Core Logistics."
"You know about that?"
"I recruited you, Swatyy. I know great deal about you and your prior activities," Vaarun says. "Look, you have a clean slate here. We all have reasons for taking the paths that bring us to this point. I just want to make sure you have the opportunity to do right."
People doing nice things for no reason, here is something new. And Shalee is right about Amamake being no place for a Lady, regardless of her history. Mi would like it here.
"The person I spoke with said there is a duplex in the Emperor's Corner that is unoccupied, but reserved. That is my first choice."
"Mine too..." Shalee says, under her breath. "Those places cost a fortune."
"Yes, those are reserved for us, but...," Vaarun says, glancing between Shalee and me, "perhaps you would like something very nice, but more affordable."
"I'll take the duplex. If you would be so kind as submit the sponsorship, I can put the necessary isk into escrow immediately," I say.
Vaarun pauses. I try to discern his thoughts. Why was he hesitating? Was he angling for something? Or is he just surprised someone who looks like I do has that kind of isk? Maybe if I offer something in return.
"I'm happy to offer a 10% finder’s fee, of course," I say, not realizing until after the words leave my mouth how it sounds.
"No, no," Vaarun says, shaking his hands. "I didn't mean that. I mean, those suites are usually reserved for high ranking officials, and even they don't rent them over the cost."
Shalee turns pink. I realize she thinks I just tried to bribe a Captain. I don't think of it that way. It is merely reciprocating a kindness, even if it is through a quid pro quo. But I do see how it looks, and right after Vaarun's talk about "appearances." Thinking quickly, I cease on a way to salvage the situation.
I smile and say with as much sincerity I can muster for a bald faced lie, "Please don't misunderstand. I meant for the Homes for Amarrian War Orphans charity you are involved in. I'm happy to make a donation in gratitude."
Shalee wears that same skeptical look she gave me when I tried the "for God and Empire" routine in the bar last week. She didn't buy that line then, and she sure as hell isn't buying this line now. Vaarun on the other hand... he blinks a few times, clearly doing a quick calculation.
"That... that would do a great deal of good in many lives," Vaarun says, before adding suspiciously, "How did you know I am helping war orphans?"
I half-smile, half smirk and say, "You are my recruitment officer, Captain. I know a great deal about you."
Shalee rolls her eyes and crosses her arms, giving me an accusing look that speaks for itself.
You are *such* a scoundrel.
"Normally, I wouldn't accept anything, but since it's for orphans... 10% you say?"
I smile.
"Yes, it is my pleasure to give back to those who are in such distress," I say, adding, "I look forward to spending more time among the faithful. I understand there is a code, a series of principles that we are bound by, and I don't want to do anything that..."
A shouting voice interrupts me, and captures our attention. I recognize that voice...
"Get yer' fucking hands off me! I've got my papers! I'm with Swatyy. I'm his man!"
A large man rounds the corner. He is dressed in a dirty white t-shirt and torn trousers. Long, unkempt dreadlocks obscure his face as he tries to make his way forward, but two guards hold him back.
"There he is!" the fat man says, pointing emphatically at me. "He will tell ya, ask him! Get your damn hands off me!"
Both Shalee and Vaarun look at me disbelievingly. I close my eyes for a moment and attempt to master myself.
"Excuse me a moment," I say, bowing stiffly before walking down the hall to where the fat man is detained.
As I approach, a guard steps forward to meet me. I adjust my robes to make the PIE uniform and insignia underneath visible. He salutes me, and I return the gesture.
"Do you know this man?" the guard asks.
"He is my charge," I answer.
"Sign here, please, sir," the guard says, handing me a clipboard. He takes a derisive look at the fat man and adds, "Would you like us to place a tracking anklet on him for his stay?"
"Fucking hell if I'll let you tag me like an animal," the fat man says.
I arch an eyebrow as I sign my name. Next to the "duration of visit" field, I fill in "10 minutes."
"I don't think so. He won't be here long enough," I reply.
The enormity of my history, my past becomes vividly clear at this moment. I can't pretend to be anything other than what I am, nor do I have any desire to do otherwise. It wasn't all lies; I do have a code, and they are aligned with PIE. A resolves hardens in me.
I will be true to my nature. I will not compromise. I will seek glory for myself first, and in doing so strengthen the Empire. The ends will justify whatever means are necessary.
I hand the clipboard to the guard and he looks it over.
Regarding me, he says, "You are aware that this man is in your custody and your responsibility while on this station. You are responsible for his conduct."
"I would have it no other way," I say.
The fat man beams at me. I scowl back and pull him away from the guard by the wall. Shalee and Vaarun whisper to each other.
"Tell me why you are here."
"Sure thing, boss, but we need to talk price first," the fat man says, perfectly pleased with himself.
"Price? You have compromised my position here. Do you see them?" I hiss, indicating Vaarun and Shalee, who were watching attentively at the far end of the hall.
The fat man gawks. I lean forward, stepping into the fat man's personal space, backing him against the wall.
"They are PIE officers, and they would think much higher of me if I rid myself of you. Hear me well, you barter your life with the information you claim to have. If I am not satisfied, I will tell the guards you are a Minmatar spy, trading information across the border."
The fat man went pale. It didn't matter if my allegations were true or not, and he knew it. He swallowed and began talking.
"It's about Morsus Mihi, boss. It's about them that killed you.”
My jaw clenches…
Friday, August 28, 2009
Meeting New People
I step into the Higher Light Pub and look around. Everything is clean, from the tables to the barstools, to the pool table in the corner. The lighting is comfortably low and warm, but there are no dark corners, no shadows to hide in. This is a far cry from the seedy establishments I usually frequent on the wrong side of the Minmatar boarder.
But the thing that strikes me the most is the people. No one bothers to give me more than a second glance before turning back to their friends or drinks. There are no malicious glares, no hostile eyes sizing up a mark, no dark souls at all for that matter. I am the drudge in this room.
I make my way to the bar, toward an empty seat. Everyone is well dressed, and I'm glad I wore my formal robes. I sit and pull back my hood, revealing the PIE insignia on my uniform collar. My attention is drawn to the laughter from a table. Laughter, that's something I don't hear often in the Amamake, and certainly not happy laughter.
"Hello Ensign. How can I help you?"
I almost don't look at the voice addressing me, not used to being called by rank. By instinct I give the young man before me a sizing gaze. The server is a freed slave, his ID bar pinned under his name tag. I can't tell if he is Minmatar or not, Ni Kunni maybe, one of my own? He blinks back under my harsh stare. Realizing what I'm doing, I break eye contact.
"What's the house drink?" I ask.
"The... the Amarrian Smile. It's made from..." he begins.
"That's fine. I'll have it," I say curtly, interrupting him.
The server gives me a sideways glance as he mixes the drink. Being honest with myself, my irate temper is more from anxious uncertainty than anything else. Give me scheming, devious cut-throat lowlifes any day. I understand them and can handle it. Well dressed, laughing, smiling people actually here to socialize and enjoy themselves... that's just creepy.
But I need to meet my fellow PIE pilots, so I decided to pull back to the Amarr side of the war front in the Bleak Lands for some R&R. The Higher Light Pub is located in a 24th Imperial Crusade station one jump from high security space where PIE has an active office and is a favorite place for the faithful to gather.
I glance toward a group of PIE pilots at a table in the middle of the room chatting animatedly. Considering them for a moment, I resolve to go over and introduce myself once my drink is ready. They are dressed neat in PIE uniforms. Two of them wear multiple decorations and metals on their breast coats. One is Captain Vaarun, the recruitment officer who handled my application. A girl at the table, laughing, notices me and catches my eye. I look away.
Damn it, she caught me staring at them. I feel uncomfortable, but I am here to meet new people and that's what I am going to do. Why is it that I can kill a group of strangers on the Dal gate without care, but I'm nervous about introducing myself to a table of Corp-mates?
My drink arrives. I take it and turn around to find the woman from the table in front of me.
"What'cha drinking, Ensign?" she asks.
Caught off guard, I take a sip of my drink to buy time and assemble my wits. The girl looks at me curiously. Medium height, her PIE uniform looks good on her slim form. A Lieutenant insignia graces her collar. She wears a traditional face scarf over tied up dark hair that covers half her face, but it's light enough that I can see mischievous blue eyes sizing me up.
"A tooth-decaying, fruity monstrosity they call an Amarrian Smile," I say, gesturing to the seat beside my own. "Would you care to join me?"
"Oh, I love those," she says, sliding onto the stool beside me.
I smile, shaking my head at the awkwardness of berating a drink she likes. Sitting down, I flag the server.
"Another of these for my friend," I say, indicating my drink with a gesture. "I'd like another as well. This time hold the vermouth, juice, fruit, soda water and ice."
The server grabs two glasses as he repeats, "One Amarrian Smile for the lady, and one vodka, straight up, for the gentleman."
The girl giggles.
"My name is Swatyy," I say, holding out my hand.
"I'm Shalee," she answers, shaking my hand. "You're a new recruit, right? Did you just move to the station?"
"Actually, I have loft in Amamake. I'm here for some respite and to meet my fellow Praetorians."
"Amamake?" Shalee says, arching an eyebrow.
The bartender brings us our drinks. Shalee picks up her glass and sips thoughtfully. I'm being judged.
"Rough neighborhood, even if you do stay at an Amarr station," she says, and then adds, "You do stay at an Amarr station, right?"
I actually do live in an Amarr station. It's on the wrong side of the boarder, owned and operated by Minmatar under Amarrian charter in name only, home to pirates and war targets alike, but there is no need to mention that... or that I also keep an apartment at Tribal Forces Logistics.
"Of course. I'm familiar with the PIE charter and avoid any perception that might bring dishonor to our cause. It's good to be among those that serve the Empire."
"Mmmm...," Shalee hums, nodding.
She clearly didn't buy my bullshit. Shalee placed her elbow on the counter and leaned her head on it, watching me.
"Is that why you resigned from Gunship Diplomacy when they left the Crusade? To serve the Empire?"
I clenched my jaw. The "God and Empire" facade is tedious, and I dislike overt dishonesty. Besides, anyone who knows anything about Gunship would know better. If I'm to be judged, let me be condemned for what I really am. I lift my vodka and down it in one smooth motion.
"No," I answer.
"No?"
"No, I'm here for personal glory. Slaughtering Minmatar rebels is the path that leads there, and it is the one I will travel," I say with unflinching, unrepentant honesty.
Shalee silently sips her drink. What's she thinking? At least she hasn't stormed away. After a few awkward moments, I made a stab at keeping the conversation going.
"How do you know Gunship?" I ask.
"By name and rumor, mostly. And that you came from that Corporation."
"People are talking about me then."
I make an attempt at indignity, but Shalee sees through it. She smiles.
"I don't think you'd mind that one bit. Don't get an inflated head, Ensign," she says, emphasizing the rank, the lowest rank. "We don't talk about you more than any other new recruit."
"And what do they say about me?"
Now Shalee hides behind her drink, sipping slowly while contemplating an answer. I wait patiently, flagging the server for another vodka.
"They say," Shalee says, meticulously choosing her words, "that you're good and what you do, that you have associates in high and low places, and that your history is... colorful."
I laugh at the calculated understatements. Shalee giggles back at me.
"Come on," she says, "let’s go to the table."
Shalee gestures to the table where other PIE pilots sit, occasionally glancing at us. I pick up my drink and follow her. She introduces me, and I receive a warm welcome, shaking each person's hand in turn before taking a seat.
Sitting there among my fellow Praetorians, making small talk, I began to think this bar wasn't so bad. Maybe I will fit in after all. Maybe I will find a place where I belong. Maybe I can bring some Minmatar strippers from Amamake to dance on the tables and liven the place up.
Maybe not...
But the thing that strikes me the most is the people. No one bothers to give me more than a second glance before turning back to their friends or drinks. There are no malicious glares, no hostile eyes sizing up a mark, no dark souls at all for that matter. I am the drudge in this room.
I make my way to the bar, toward an empty seat. Everyone is well dressed, and I'm glad I wore my formal robes. I sit and pull back my hood, revealing the PIE insignia on my uniform collar. My attention is drawn to the laughter from a table. Laughter, that's something I don't hear often in the Amamake, and certainly not happy laughter.
"Hello Ensign. How can I help you?"
I almost don't look at the voice addressing me, not used to being called by rank. By instinct I give the young man before me a sizing gaze. The server is a freed slave, his ID bar pinned under his name tag. I can't tell if he is Minmatar or not, Ni Kunni maybe, one of my own? He blinks back under my harsh stare. Realizing what I'm doing, I break eye contact.
"What's the house drink?" I ask.
"The... the Amarrian Smile. It's made from..." he begins.
"That's fine. I'll have it," I say curtly, interrupting him.
The server gives me a sideways glance as he mixes the drink. Being honest with myself, my irate temper is more from anxious uncertainty than anything else. Give me scheming, devious cut-throat lowlifes any day. I understand them and can handle it. Well dressed, laughing, smiling people actually here to socialize and enjoy themselves... that's just creepy.
But I need to meet my fellow PIE pilots, so I decided to pull back to the Amarr side of the war front in the Bleak Lands for some R&R. The Higher Light Pub is located in a 24th Imperial Crusade station one jump from high security space where PIE has an active office and is a favorite place for the faithful to gather.
I glance toward a group of PIE pilots at a table in the middle of the room chatting animatedly. Considering them for a moment, I resolve to go over and introduce myself once my drink is ready. They are dressed neat in PIE uniforms. Two of them wear multiple decorations and metals on their breast coats. One is Captain Vaarun, the recruitment officer who handled my application. A girl at the table, laughing, notices me and catches my eye. I look away.
Damn it, she caught me staring at them. I feel uncomfortable, but I am here to meet new people and that's what I am going to do. Why is it that I can kill a group of strangers on the Dal gate without care, but I'm nervous about introducing myself to a table of Corp-mates?
My drink arrives. I take it and turn around to find the woman from the table in front of me.
"What'cha drinking, Ensign?" she asks.
Caught off guard, I take a sip of my drink to buy time and assemble my wits. The girl looks at me curiously. Medium height, her PIE uniform looks good on her slim form. A Lieutenant insignia graces her collar. She wears a traditional face scarf over tied up dark hair that covers half her face, but it's light enough that I can see mischievous blue eyes sizing me up.
"A tooth-decaying, fruity monstrosity they call an Amarrian Smile," I say, gesturing to the seat beside my own. "Would you care to join me?"
"Oh, I love those," she says, sliding onto the stool beside me.
I smile, shaking my head at the awkwardness of berating a drink she likes. Sitting down, I flag the server.
"Another of these for my friend," I say, indicating my drink with a gesture. "I'd like another as well. This time hold the vermouth, juice, fruit, soda water and ice."
The server grabs two glasses as he repeats, "One Amarrian Smile for the lady, and one vodka, straight up, for the gentleman."
The girl giggles.
"My name is Swatyy," I say, holding out my hand.
"I'm Shalee," she answers, shaking my hand. "You're a new recruit, right? Did you just move to the station?"
"Actually, I have loft in Amamake. I'm here for some respite and to meet my fellow Praetorians."
"Amamake?" Shalee says, arching an eyebrow.
The bartender brings us our drinks. Shalee picks up her glass and sips thoughtfully. I'm being judged.
"Rough neighborhood, even if you do stay at an Amarr station," she says, and then adds, "You do stay at an Amarr station, right?"
I actually do live in an Amarr station. It's on the wrong side of the boarder, owned and operated by Minmatar under Amarrian charter in name only, home to pirates and war targets alike, but there is no need to mention that... or that I also keep an apartment at Tribal Forces Logistics.
"Of course. I'm familiar with the PIE charter and avoid any perception that might bring dishonor to our cause. It's good to be among those that serve the Empire."
"Mmmm...," Shalee hums, nodding.
She clearly didn't buy my bullshit. Shalee placed her elbow on the counter and leaned her head on it, watching me.
"Is that why you resigned from Gunship Diplomacy when they left the Crusade? To serve the Empire?"
I clenched my jaw. The "God and Empire" facade is tedious, and I dislike overt dishonesty. Besides, anyone who knows anything about Gunship would know better. If I'm to be judged, let me be condemned for what I really am. I lift my vodka and down it in one smooth motion.
"No," I answer.
"No?"
"No, I'm here for personal glory. Slaughtering Minmatar rebels is the path that leads there, and it is the one I will travel," I say with unflinching, unrepentant honesty.
Shalee silently sips her drink. What's she thinking? At least she hasn't stormed away. After a few awkward moments, I made a stab at keeping the conversation going.
"How do you know Gunship?" I ask.
"By name and rumor, mostly. And that you came from that Corporation."
"People are talking about me then."
I make an attempt at indignity, but Shalee sees through it. She smiles.
"I don't think you'd mind that one bit. Don't get an inflated head, Ensign," she says, emphasizing the rank, the lowest rank. "We don't talk about you more than any other new recruit."
"And what do they say about me?"
Now Shalee hides behind her drink, sipping slowly while contemplating an answer. I wait patiently, flagging the server for another vodka.
"They say," Shalee says, meticulously choosing her words, "that you're good and what you do, that you have associates in high and low places, and that your history is... colorful."
I laugh at the calculated understatements. Shalee giggles back at me.
"Come on," she says, "let’s go to the table."
Shalee gestures to the table where other PIE pilots sit, occasionally glancing at us. I pick up my drink and follow her. She introduces me, and I receive a warm welcome, shaking each person's hand in turn before taking a seat.
Sitting there among my fellow Praetorians, making small talk, I began to think this bar wasn't so bad. Maybe I will fit in after all. Maybe I will find a place where I belong. Maybe I can bring some Minmatar strippers from Amamake to dance on the tables and liven the place up.
Maybe not...
Tuesday, August 25, 2009
A Complicated Relationship
A beautiful woman sits at the table with me in my room. She is wearing one of my long white shirts and pink socks, a lock of her dark hair rebels and falls across her face. The room is barely recognizable from what it used to be just two weeks ago. Just two weeks ago since I met Mi, a Minmatar slave that found her way into my life. She's been helping me decorate. It makes her happy, and I enjoy watching the way Mi moves. I like it when she wears my cloths...
She takes the box I offer her.
It's red with gold ribbons, tied with a big bow on the top. She looks at me and giggles, putting her slender fingers over her mouth as she laughs, so beautiful. Her eyes are bright. I gesture that she should open it. She tucks a lock of her long black hair behind her ear and pulls the ribbons back to open the box.
She takes out a soft flat velvet package and puts it down on the table in front of her. Lifting the clasp, she pulls back the covering to reveal a necklace. It's made of etched double gold coils with silver chains bracing them. Each silver chain is decorated with gems, creating a jeweled tapestry.
"Oh, I love it, Master!" she says, holding it up to the light.
I smile, not so much that Mi is pleased, but because I see the beginning of a storm in her eyes.
"It's a new Minmatar design. They call it 'neo-style', and I'm told it's very popular among the high ladies in Metropolis..."
My voice trails off as I notice Mi's pained expression grow. I gently brush back her hair with a finger and look into her brown eyes, knowing exactly what she is thinking. This is what I was waiting for. Gently running my hand down her face, I ask a question to which I damn well know the answer.
"What's wrong, Mi?"
Mi chokes a muffled sob and palms her face.
"It's too much!"
Mi stands and takes a step back from the table, tears streaming down her cheeks, and puts her hand out to keep me back.
"I'll never be allowed to keep it," Mi sobs, "and the'll beat me if I don't bring them more later."
"They" is actually a "he," who runs the local watering hole and whore house, The Pirate's Cove Bar and Grill. Mi is a dancer there, and her entrance into my life is pure happenstance, nothing more than a cover for a conversation with the bartender.
But Mi found a way into a softer part of me, a part that few people see. And once her owner finds out... No, I'm in front of this train, for better or for worse. Years of struggle and death have taught me that if you can't stop the train, sometimes you can derail it.
"The bartender won't take anything from you," I say, watch Mi intently, meaningfully.
Mi stares back at me. What was that in her eyes? Apprehension, maybe fear? I swallowed before continuing. I'm such a bastard.
"I bought you."
Relief flows over Mi's features. Half coughing, half sighing, she clutches her chest and laughs. Then she pounces on me, wraps her arms around my neck and kisses my face.
"Thank you, thank you, thank you, Master," Mi cries between kisses.
Pulling Mi off me, I hold her at arms length. She can see the warning in my gaze and looks into my eyes, questioning.
"There is more," I say, gesturing back to the box on the table, seemingly forgotten.
Mi approaches the box gingerly, as if expecting there to be a snake inside. She looks at me and wipes tears from her eyes before looking down into the open box. Reaching in, she removes an envelope. She opens it and begins reading. I can see her mime the words...
Why am I doing this? It is easier to simply claim Mi as a slave and be done with it. But when I said 'there is more,' I meant it for me as much as her. She can never know, I won't let her know, that my feelings are more than lust or desire, that she holds power over me. It's too dangerous. So I must cow her, control her, dominate her more than even a master can to a slave.
I'm going to end up in hell for what I'm doing to this innocent woman...
I sit down and cross my legs, watching Mi intently. Her breathing is fast and shallow, her face is deathly pale. She falls to her knees and collapses to the ground, groaning in agony. She is a freed Minmatar woman, without means or the protection of an Amarrian house, or even a pimp. No one on this station will touch her, not knowing that it was I who freed her. But slavers would have her eventually, taking her somewhere else... for processing. Mi knows what that means.
"Maaasster, pleeassse forgive this slave!" she begs, sobbing uncontrollably. "Please keep me, Master, pleeassse! I'll do anyyyythinnnng!"
Crawling to me on the ground, she hugs my ancles. I feel warm tears run down my feet. Her begging rings in my ears. I'm about to speak when I realize the lump in my throat would betray my feeling. My own tears threaten me. It cannot happen. All this, all Mi's suffering would be for nothing. I must be strong.
Swallowing, forcing my voice to be even, I say, "There is something I want you to do."
Mi continues to sob, but manages to look up at me. Such pain, terrible fear, in those wide, tear-filled eyes.
"Anything master wants," Mi answers, pleading.
I lean down, and lift Mi to her knees. She looks at me intently, like a condemned man would look at an executioner.
"Make a choice, Mi. I want you to become the First Lady in my House, but only if you choose to do so."
Mi gawks at me, opens her mouth to speak but nothing comes out. I caress her cheek. There is no choice for her here, at least from my perspective. But I need Mi give herself to me, willingly and of her own volition.
Mi nods.
I smile down at Mi and take her hand, lifting her to her feet. Bringing her before the tall mirror on the wall, I hold her shoulders and we look at our reflections. The white shirt Mi wears is soaked with tears and sweat, her eyes red and puffy, her hair disheveled. I've never seen her so beautiful.
I pick up the necklace from the table and step behind Mi to put it on her. She pulls her hair back, exposing a long, delicate neck. As the latch closes, I realize that I locked my own chains as surely as if it were an iron collar about my neck. My hands slide around Mi's waist, and I draw her close. She closes her eyes and reaches up to caress my face. Gazing at her in the mirror, I realize it was I who never had a choice.
She takes the box I offer her.
It's red with gold ribbons, tied with a big bow on the top. She looks at me and giggles, putting her slender fingers over her mouth as she laughs, so beautiful. Her eyes are bright. I gesture that she should open it. She tucks a lock of her long black hair behind her ear and pulls the ribbons back to open the box.
She takes out a soft flat velvet package and puts it down on the table in front of her. Lifting the clasp, she pulls back the covering to reveal a necklace. It's made of etched double gold coils with silver chains bracing them. Each silver chain is decorated with gems, creating a jeweled tapestry.
"Oh, I love it, Master!" she says, holding it up to the light.
I smile, not so much that Mi is pleased, but because I see the beginning of a storm in her eyes.
"It's a new Minmatar design. They call it 'neo-style', and I'm told it's very popular among the high ladies in Metropolis..."
My voice trails off as I notice Mi's pained expression grow. I gently brush back her hair with a finger and look into her brown eyes, knowing exactly what she is thinking. This is what I was waiting for. Gently running my hand down her face, I ask a question to which I damn well know the answer.
"What's wrong, Mi?"
Mi chokes a muffled sob and palms her face.
"It's too much!"
Mi stands and takes a step back from the table, tears streaming down her cheeks, and puts her hand out to keep me back.
"I'll never be allowed to keep it," Mi sobs, "and the'll beat me if I don't bring them more later."
"They" is actually a "he," who runs the local watering hole and whore house, The Pirate's Cove Bar and Grill. Mi is a dancer there, and her entrance into my life is pure happenstance, nothing more than a cover for a conversation with the bartender.
But Mi found a way into a softer part of me, a part that few people see. And once her owner finds out... No, I'm in front of this train, for better or for worse. Years of struggle and death have taught me that if you can't stop the train, sometimes you can derail it.
"The bartender won't take anything from you," I say, watch Mi intently, meaningfully.
Mi stares back at me. What was that in her eyes? Apprehension, maybe fear? I swallowed before continuing. I'm such a bastard.
"I bought you."
Relief flows over Mi's features. Half coughing, half sighing, she clutches her chest and laughs. Then she pounces on me, wraps her arms around my neck and kisses my face.
"Thank you, thank you, thank you, Master," Mi cries between kisses.
Pulling Mi off me, I hold her at arms length. She can see the warning in my gaze and looks into my eyes, questioning.
"There is more," I say, gesturing back to the box on the table, seemingly forgotten.
Mi approaches the box gingerly, as if expecting there to be a snake inside. She looks at me and wipes tears from her eyes before looking down into the open box. Reaching in, she removes an envelope. She opens it and begins reading. I can see her mime the words...
Dear Ms. Michelle Thorki,
This letter is formal notice that Mr. Swatyy has purchased your person and lifelong services from The Pirate's Cove Bar and Grill. Further, Mr. Swatyy has sponsored, filed the requisite paperwork on your behalf, and paid all applicable fees to secure your freedom from the Amarrian Ministry of Human Resources. Please be advised that to move through Amarr space, you will need identifying documentation from a recognized Amarrian house. Congratulations on your status as a "freed citizen."
Yours truly,
Odari Sikra
Human Property Division
Ministry of Human Resources
Why am I doing this? It is easier to simply claim Mi as a slave and be done with it. But when I said 'there is more,' I meant it for me as much as her. She can never know, I won't let her know, that my feelings are more than lust or desire, that she holds power over me. It's too dangerous. So I must cow her, control her, dominate her more than even a master can to a slave.
I'm going to end up in hell for what I'm doing to this innocent woman...
I sit down and cross my legs, watching Mi intently. Her breathing is fast and shallow, her face is deathly pale. She falls to her knees and collapses to the ground, groaning in agony. She is a freed Minmatar woman, without means or the protection of an Amarrian house, or even a pimp. No one on this station will touch her, not knowing that it was I who freed her. But slavers would have her eventually, taking her somewhere else... for processing. Mi knows what that means.
"Maaasster, pleeassse forgive this slave!" she begs, sobbing uncontrollably. "Please keep me, Master, pleeassse! I'll do anyyyythinnnng!"
Crawling to me on the ground, she hugs my ancles. I feel warm tears run down my feet. Her begging rings in my ears. I'm about to speak when I realize the lump in my throat would betray my feeling. My own tears threaten me. It cannot happen. All this, all Mi's suffering would be for nothing. I must be strong.
Swallowing, forcing my voice to be even, I say, "There is something I want you to do."
Mi continues to sob, but manages to look up at me. Such pain, terrible fear, in those wide, tear-filled eyes.
"Anything master wants," Mi answers, pleading.
I lean down, and lift Mi to her knees. She looks at me intently, like a condemned man would look at an executioner.
"Make a choice, Mi. I want you to become the First Lady in my House, but only if you choose to do so."
Mi gawks at me, opens her mouth to speak but nothing comes out. I caress her cheek. There is no choice for her here, at least from my perspective. But I need Mi give herself to me, willingly and of her own volition.
Mi nods.
I smile down at Mi and take her hand, lifting her to her feet. Bringing her before the tall mirror on the wall, I hold her shoulders and we look at our reflections. The white shirt Mi wears is soaked with tears and sweat, her eyes red and puffy, her hair disheveled. I've never seen her so beautiful.
I pick up the necklace from the table and step behind Mi to put it on her. She pulls her hair back, exposing a long, delicate neck. As the latch closes, I realize that I locked my own chains as surely as if it were an iron collar about my neck. My hands slide around Mi's waist, and I draw her close. She closes her eyes and reaches up to caress my face. Gazing at her in the mirror, I realize it was I who never had a choice.
Saturday, August 22, 2009
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
----
Combat Record Below:
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
----
Combat Record Below:
Monday, August 17, 2009
The Journey Home
Where is my place in the Empire, where can my service best be applied? I dedicated much time and thought to this question. Finally, I decided to seek a group that puts the Empire above all else, who dedicate themselves to the Crusade. I applied to join Praetoria Imperialis Excubitoris, PIE.
While I miss the stone cold killers in G.Dip, with whom I related, it is a blessing to be among the faithful. There is a sense of purpose and order in PIE. I have never seen before. The application process is involved, and I feared that I would not be considered worthy. There are improprieties in my youth, and my bloodline is Ni-Kunni… my father is an indentured servant to this day. Perhaps they would not want a low born servant, freed only through an act of his Master’s kindness, among their ranks.
Then the communication arrived. Vaarun, my recruitment officer, informed me that my application was in order and to submit the signed paperwork at an office. With solemn gratitude, I donned the PIE. colors and assumed my new place in the Amarr Militia. I was returning home!
The welcome from PIE. was pleasant, much more so than the actual journey. When I left for Pure Blind with G.Dip, I moved resources to that area. While traveling out of Pure Blind, I decided to take a shortcut through Tribute. Unfortunately, Morsus Mihi disapproved. Why any group spend their days sitting under massive warp disruption spheres only to destroy passing travelers is beyond me.
But this traveler is battle-hardened, and my strike cuts deep! I knew there was no chance of survival. I was 20km from the gate in a slow-moving battlecruiser, inside multiple 50km disruption spheres. If death is my fate, then let me bring an enemy along!
I de-cloaked and trained overloaded guns on a nearby Zealot Heavy Assault Cruiser piloted by theWhiteKnight. His companions rained down fire upon me. My Harbinger’s shields evaporated, armor rented, and hull buckled. Time was short; I gritted my teeth, choking on the scorched pod fluid assaulting my lungs.
Seconds passed, an explosion, my pod came under fire, pain and a white light. Then it was over. I awoke gasping for breath in a cloning pod, safely back in Kumoi. Well, at least I didn’t have to fly back, though I’ll never get used to the way death feels. Leaning over to the computer monitor, I pulled the combat logs from my lost Harbinger and smiled at what I saw. theWhiteKnight’s ship fell with my own!
After paying for a new clone, I got dressed and headed out to reacquaint myself with Amamake. My Harbinger smoothly cut through familiar space, and a sense of nostalgic warmth filled my soul. The scanner brought my attention back to reality. A Sacrilage Heavy Assault Cruiser was detected in an asteroid belt. I decided to investigate.
Landing in the belt, I came out of warp 20km from Chien Fou. He was neutral to me, and I began aligning out. My ship leached as the propulsion system failed. Chien had train a warp disruptor on me! He claimed that his corporation, Bearn Security Ltd, had been at war with PIE. and felt the need to destroy me despite a cession of hostilities. Vaarun had warned me that PIE. had enemies… his words were not idle.
The first heavy assault missile volley crashed into my shields before my return lock could be established. This could be problematic, for if Chien holds his wide, fast orbit, I might not be able to overwhelm the active armor repairs one often finds on a hunting Sacrilege. Then Chien changed his tack, turning hard to port.
What was he doing?!
I watched incredulously as Chien turned into me, rapidly closing the distance. My scanners locked Chein and applied a disruptor of my own as the second missile volley collapsed my shields. Blinking at his utter stupidity, I activated my warp scrambler and stasis webifier. With his microwarp drive disengaged and engine webbed, Chein was dead in space. A third missile volley crashed into my armor, scaring it. But this time I answered with a full broadside of overheated heavy pulse lasers focused with my highest damage crystals.
This is what I lived for, the heat of honorable combat! The whining pitch of discharging lasers and the vibrating thump of missiles crashing upon armor filled my ears. Drones circled like carrion birds as we traded fire, but in the end Chein’s piloting error cost him this engagement. Burning, but intact, my Harbinger passed over the razed Sacrilege.
I collected the few modules of use from the burning hull and then fired the wreck. Returning to my home station, I reflected on how good it was to be home.
PIE. swatyy
While I miss the stone cold killers in G.Dip, with whom I related, it is a blessing to be among the faithful. There is a sense of purpose and order in PIE. I have never seen before. The application process is involved, and I feared that I would not be considered worthy. There are improprieties in my youth, and my bloodline is Ni-Kunni… my father is an indentured servant to this day. Perhaps they would not want a low born servant, freed only through an act of his Master’s kindness, among their ranks.
Then the communication arrived. Vaarun, my recruitment officer, informed me that my application was in order and to submit the signed paperwork at an office. With solemn gratitude, I donned the PIE. colors and assumed my new place in the Amarr Militia. I was returning home!
The welcome from PIE. was pleasant, much more so than the actual journey. When I left for Pure Blind with G.Dip, I moved resources to that area. While traveling out of Pure Blind, I decided to take a shortcut through Tribute. Unfortunately, Morsus Mihi disapproved. Why any group spend their days sitting under massive warp disruption spheres only to destroy passing travelers is beyond me.
But this traveler is battle-hardened, and my strike cuts deep! I knew there was no chance of survival. I was 20km from the gate in a slow-moving battlecruiser, inside multiple 50km disruption spheres. If death is my fate, then let me bring an enemy along!
I de-cloaked and trained overloaded guns on a nearby Zealot Heavy Assault Cruiser piloted by theWhiteKnight. His companions rained down fire upon me. My Harbinger’s shields evaporated, armor rented, and hull buckled. Time was short; I gritted my teeth, choking on the scorched pod fluid assaulting my lungs.
Seconds passed, an explosion, my pod came under fire, pain and a white light. Then it was over. I awoke gasping for breath in a cloning pod, safely back in Kumoi. Well, at least I didn’t have to fly back, though I’ll never get used to the way death feels. Leaning over to the computer monitor, I pulled the combat logs from my lost Harbinger and smiled at what I saw. theWhiteKnight’s ship fell with my own!
After paying for a new clone, I got dressed and headed out to reacquaint myself with Amamake. My Harbinger smoothly cut through familiar space, and a sense of nostalgic warmth filled my soul. The scanner brought my attention back to reality. A Sacrilage Heavy Assault Cruiser was detected in an asteroid belt. I decided to investigate.
Landing in the belt, I came out of warp 20km from Chien Fou. He was neutral to me, and I began aligning out. My ship leached as the propulsion system failed. Chien had train a warp disruptor on me! He claimed that his corporation, Bearn Security Ltd, had been at war with PIE. and felt the need to destroy me despite a cession of hostilities. Vaarun had warned me that PIE. had enemies… his words were not idle.
The first heavy assault missile volley crashed into my shields before my return lock could be established. This could be problematic, for if Chien holds his wide, fast orbit, I might not be able to overwhelm the active armor repairs one often finds on a hunting Sacrilege. Then Chien changed his tack, turning hard to port.
What was he doing?!
I watched incredulously as Chien turned into me, rapidly closing the distance. My scanners locked Chein and applied a disruptor of my own as the second missile volley collapsed my shields. Blinking at his utter stupidity, I activated my warp scrambler and stasis webifier. With his microwarp drive disengaged and engine webbed, Chein was dead in space. A third missile volley crashed into my armor, scaring it. But this time I answered with a full broadside of overheated heavy pulse lasers focused with my highest damage crystals.
This is what I lived for, the heat of honorable combat! The whining pitch of discharging lasers and the vibrating thump of missiles crashing upon armor filled my ears. Drones circled like carrion birds as we traded fire, but in the end Chein’s piloting error cost him this engagement. Burning, but intact, my Harbinger passed over the razed Sacrilege.
I collected the few modules of use from the burning hull and then fired the wreck. Returning to my home station, I reflected on how good it was to be home.
PIE. swatyy
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