tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1744980205691349262024-02-20T20:32:32.060+00:00Evil Incarn8; Stuff and NonsenseEvil Incarn8http://www.blogger.com/profile/09200250500245445594noreply@blogger.comBlogger22125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-174498020569134926.post-15804268925455664012013-08-04T16:41:00.000+01:002013-08-04T16:45:19.331+01:00Caught in the Trap (Part III)<br />
Continuation of "Caught in the Trap"<br />
<br />
<br />
Upon my return Oskold is buried deep in projected displays from the station command console, multiple scan screens showing visible, near and far infra red, cosmic ray emission plots hunting for the first signs of our salvation's arrival. "Wouldn't it just be simpler to lock a scope onto each stargate?"<br />
<br />
He pauses in his search, "When was the last time you saw a pirate registered ship use a stargate? CONCORD would be onto it in seconds. We have to use alternative methods of travel, not as convenient as using the network of course so we tend not to travel alone. Although with bounty hungry capsuleers so prevalent these days maybe that's all for the better ehh?" His jibe although intended as lighthearted revealed a much darker backstory, so I chose not to pursue it, not whilst the good will of this man was my only way out of here in one piece.<br />
<br />
As time passed and Oskold remained immersed in his readouts my mind began to wander so I sat gazing into the infinite beauty hovering silently just outside the ceiling height plate windows encircling the command bridge. I find my eyes drawn to a particular light blue star, gazing idly at it I wonder how close it is, perhaps within the New Eden cluster, perhaps I have visited it even, just as I am making a mental note to check it in the directory when I next get chance I seem to feel it getting closer...<br />
<br />
Surely not, stars don't do that, it twinkles, the feint blue light now flashing in and out of existence, vanishing for a second it returns in a blaze of colour gaining size and intensity at an astonishing rate. "Haatomo! ..." my call is interrupted by his own excited cry, "They're here!!"<br />
<br />
"But, its not possible, this is Empire space you can't light a cyno here!"<br />
<br />
"Who says you can't? his grin suggests he knows both my answer and his response to it"<br />
<br />
"Well CONCORD, and there are systems to prevent it... aren't there?"<br />
<br />
"What is the first rule of being a pirate??... Don't do what CONCORD tells you."<br />
<br />
Turning back to the window, the beacon now burning brighter than the distant yellow star, some of the more aggressive of Valiths ships could be seen racing towards it, their engine trails barely pinpricks against the blue glare. The intense light seems to wobble, turning itself inside out, then it flickers at least a dozen more times, I had started to count the jumps, but my attention is diverted by the ship that had just forced itself back into reality. Classical Caldari lines, if she wasn't my salvation I would have called her ugly, but on this day that slab sided monstrosity was the most beautiful ship I had ever seen.<br />
<br />
"A Chimera... in highsec... a Gurista Capital ship, in the Minmatar home systems, its just ... not possible!!"<br />
<br />
By now other more regular sized support ships had emerged, a cloud of drones began darting about among the assorted Rattlesnakes, Gilas, and Worms engaging the beleaguered defenders.<br />
<br />
Even though the battle between Valith's patrol squadron and the Gurista fleet was raging I wasn't really watching too closely, happy to be saved I had yet to consider if my next predicament would be better or worse. What was it they said about the word of a pirate? I could only hope that these pirates would honour our arrangement.<br />
<br />
Valith's squad fought bravely, even suicidally against a force they couldn't hope to beat, one by one the cruisers and smaller vessels burst open under the relentless Guristas fire, Valiths own Typhoon flagship wallowed spilling flames into the void as it aligned for an escape that was not to be.<br />
<br />
"Time to go, Miss Incarn8, they are expecting you, fly your pod over to the carrier there will be a berth designated for you, they are sending over a ship for me, I will see you aboard."<br />
<br />
Back into my cocoon, even if only for a few minutes. I undock and immediately Aura is screaming threat warnings about pirate vessels in close proximity, silencing them I plot a course directly towards the largest threat. It had looked large from within the relative safety of the station, but now as I drifted up towards the enormous docking bay, the walls of camouflaged plating stretched up and down as far as my camera drones could pan... camouflage in space though, seriously? what were they thinking? Give me my red and gold anyday.<br />
<br />
The carrier was not equipped to house a non-piloting capsule, so it was stored in the cargo hold, cracking open the casing shock fluid spilt out across the plating depositing me onto the floor still coughing up the last fluid. A crewman, evidently enjoying himself, takes it upon himself to clean both me and the floor at the same time with a jet of cold water from a hose.<br />
<br />
The hospitality improved however after this, given a towel I was led to my own cabin where clothing and food had been laid out, but best of all, hot water in the shower!!<br />
<br />
After a quick bite to eat, I had however taken the opportunity to take nutrients from my pod during the transfer, and dressed in combat fatigues designating me as a Gurista Captain I head out to explore my new situation, or I would have done if the door wasn't locked from the outside.<br />
<br />
Returning to my bunk I lay down just as the world shimmers and twists around me, smiling at the irony I realise that I have just made my first cyno jump, not even in my pod, but lay on my back deep within a Gurista Chimera. A few jumps later and the deep red of Matari space outside my window is replaced by the warm browns of the Amarrian border regions, no sooner had I relaxed back on the bunk satisfied that they were going to be true to their word, my door slides open. Sitting up with a start, "Ohh Oskold, or should I say, Commander Haatomo! I am glad to see you again"<br />
<br />
"As am I Miss Incarn8, or should I say, Captain.. however much I should like to stay and chat alas time is against us. We shall soon be jumping into a high security Amarrian system and will not be able to linger long, you will need to depart with due haste. In the meantime however I have a little task I should like for you to take on our behalf.. walk with me please" And with that he turned on his heel and walked out.<br />
<br />
Following Haatomo through corridors that were both Caldari yet also not, tailed by a pair of guards in full combat gear, I realise we are headed back down towards the cargo holds. Stopping just outside a large pair of cargo doors he turns to face me.<br />
<br />
"A lady in a profession as varied as yours must be well used to somewhat unusual dealings. We have on our hands at the moment something of a problem, when I disappeared the fleet immediately started gathering intelligence in order to launch a rescue, this involved the taking of captives. Most of these have now been dealt with, however one remains that we cannot eliminate in the usual manor. We should like you, in your capacity as a slaver, to take over control of this specimen."<br />
<br />
"What is so special about this one that the Guristas can't deal with a single captive? and if he is so much trouble for you, I am sure you would rather keep him close where you can monitor him"<br />
<br />
"The demise of a captive is usually no problem, however with this specimen, we would rather that she remains alive, or at least in her current body.." Haatomo dropped his bombshell with a grace far in excess of that which I expected.<br />
<br />
"She? is a clone then? you want me to take on an asset that knows full well that its death will secure escape? I am surprised it is alive even now, if it were I then without a doubt ending myself would be the highest priority."<br />
<br />
"Yes, we were prepared for the difficulties in capturing a capsuleer and even containing, however it appears that we did not have a sufficient plan for dealing with her afterwards. We would like you to take her as one of your own, try to learn the locations of her clone contracts and eliminate them, then you can safely eliminate her, or keep her, just so long as our secrets never see the light of day."<br />
The great cargo bay doors begin to slide open revealing the large virtually empty interior, lit by only a circle of floodlights around what looks like some kind of futuristic altar, on top of which a young Sebestor is chained down with a fully combat ready guard stood at either side of her.<br />
Haatomo leads me in towards her, "We have had to restrain her for her, and our own, safety, she has tried many times to manually clone herself. As well as trying to get her guards to kill her, as such we have to change guards regularly, she has quite the venomous tongue."<br />
<br />
Approaching the table I can see that she is securely restrained with comically oversized chains to each quarter as well as neck, waist and knee restraints. She appears calm and she is carefully regulating her breathing through clenched teeth. Her nose is quite obviously broken, dried blood still stains her lips and cheek, other cuts on her forehead and around her eyebrow appear to have received medical attention yet still look very fresh.<br />
<br />
"I thought the Gurista would have been above such treatment of a prisoner? you always seem to promote yourselves as mercenaries rather than barbarians"<br />
<br />
"We have treated her well, the injuries you see are all self inflicted, as I said she has been attempting to manually clone at every opportunity. Our Chief medical officer, who was tending her wounds, is currently receiving stitches to his face after she took a bite out of him. It may not look it, but we [I]are[/I] trying to treat her well, she however is making it very difficult."<br />
<br />
I wasn't entirely sure but I thought I saw the edge of her mouth clench restraining a wry smile at that. "She is sedated? can she hear us?"<br />
<br />
"She is not, however she has shown little interest in communicating beyond attempting to goad anyone she can into killing her."<br />
<br />
Stepping into the circle of light I look down upon her face, her mask of defiance and pure hatred is held strongly in place, yet her eye tracks across to look at me, and somewhere deep in her eye I spot the spark of fear.<br />
"You see me Matari, You know what I am, You know what I can do to you and your type. You belong to me now, you will do and believe as I say, no more, no less. Your life, all of them, are mine you will serve for me the prescribed 10 generations of labour as set down in scripture by her Majesty Empress Jamyl, serve me well and your children's children will walk free, as better people."<br />
<br />
Her voice croaks, gravelly and hoarse from hours of screaming at her captors, "Rot in hell slaver scum, I burn people like you, freedom or death, long live the Republic! These Guristas have failed, and you will fail also, I shall die and be reborn faraway in freedom to hunt you down until the end of time."<br />
<br />
I cannot help but smile, "Ahh yes, the hypocrisy of a fervent believer, 'let me be free to live my way so that I may stop you living the way you choose.' You see my little Matari, at the end of the day these Gurista are businessmen, they may use combat as their style, but its all about money for them. Me, however, I am a people person, I have devoted my life to the raising of sub-humans such as yourself, into civilised and productive members of society. So believe me when I say that I know you better than you ever will, I have seen hundreds like you, some even as rabid and vicious as you, but never have I encountered a Matari that was not improved through proper training."<br />
<br />
I was half expecting another monologue, but apparently the first outburst had sapped her strength, clenching her teeth together she returned to glaring at the distant ceiling.<br />
<br />
Walking back towards the hanger doors I muse for a few moments before nodding "Ok Haatomo, I will take her on, she will be quite the handful but oddly enough I see a little of myself in her, and I do love a challenge, breaking her will be fun."<br />
<br />
"Excellent" grinning more in relief than actual joy Haatomo fires off a pre-written message from his datapad. "We shall be jumping into Arshat, a remote high security system in the Domain region, within the next 30minutes, you will be provided with a shuttle to transport you wherever you desire. Our only condition is that word of this little adventure never leaks from you or your cargo."<br />
<br />
Returning briefly to my cabin I change into a set of civilian clothes, as much as I like to make an impact with the way I dress, walking out in an Amarrian station dressed in a Gurista Captains uniform is probably a little much. I arrive back into the main hanger in time to see the Gurista technicians swarming over a plain Caldari shuttle, sealing the exterior hatches around my capsule. Whilst a separate procession advances from the far wall, fully eight combat fitted soldiers escort four technicians who had decided it was easier to remover the legs from the table and transport the prisoner in-situ than risk releasing her. I follow them up into the shuttle and watch as my newest acquisition is chained, tabletop and all, to the floor of the cargo hold.<br />
<br />
Passing the last few minutes exchanging pleasantries with Haatomo technicians vacate the hanger as a five minute warning is sounded. Running final pre-flight checks I dredge up long unused memories on non-capsule flight procedures, finally satisfied I am ready I send my final farewell to Haatomo as the Chimera jumps into Arshat.<br />
<br />
The hanger doors are opening almost as soon as we hit reality, lifting off the deck I slip out as soon as a shuttle sized opening is achieved. Aligning to the nearest planet I spin around for one last view, a Gurista Chimera with an escorting fleet madly pumping energy in to recharge the jumpdrive before the Imperial Navy arrives... I still cannot quite believe it.<br />
<br />
Auras Caldari accent grates on my ears as she announces our escape, the mad vision is left behind as we accelerate away, bouncing off a few planets I perform a thorough scrub of the shuttles memory before daring to access a stargate and start the long trip home.<br />
<br />
---------------------------------------------------------------<br />
<br />
Thanks for sticking with me through this story .. it certainly hasn't been the fastest release, but I hope you have enjoyed it.Evil Incarn8http://www.blogger.com/profile/09200250500245445594noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-174498020569134926.post-7444199474127052842013-05-13T21:11:00.000+01:002013-08-04T16:45:09.376+01:00Caught in the trap (Part II)<br />
<br />
The welcoming thud as the docking clamps grip my capsule.<br />
<br />
Loss of control, the world twists sickeningly as the cybernetic connections release and I am dropped bewildered back into reality. I feel a current in the pod fluid around my ankles the thick syrup that had been nurturing and protecting me whilst in flight was being drained out by the stations maintenance systems. Coughing out my breathing tube I inhale deeply, regretting it almost immediately as I expel a lungful of the oxygenated shock fluid. The pod casing cracks open, light floods in, my eyes sting, it has been near on 6 days since I last used them. Behold the immortal pod pilot, weak, struggling to breathe, confused and nearly blind, I hardly feel like a demi-god.<br />
<br />
Gripping the railing weakly I head for the pilot prep room. Where was I? it would be a few minutes before my biological brain was up to speed sorting itself out from the cyberneticly enhanced cocoon it had been hooked up to. But, what I could see was not promising, this place looked rough, and I'm not talking bad neighbourhood rough, this place looked rough even by Minmatar standards.<br />
<br />
Lukewarm water, but at least the shower worked, I peel off my flight suit letting the water wash away the reminants of pod fluid. My memories are beginning to return as I discover my wardrobe has not been delivered from my ship, I dress in my "blending in" outfit from the emergency kit I keep stored in my pod, simple working trousers and shirt, the coarse fabric rubs on my skin. I know where I am now, I know why I am here, today is not going well already, and it is only going to get worse.<br />
<br />
A trap, Republic Security had somehow blocked my access to the jumpgate, and destroyed my ship, they blew up my beautiful fucking ship! Leaving me in this God-forsaken rusting shithole junkheap of a station stuck out in the middle of nowhere.<br />
<br />
No doubt the RSS would be infesting the place by now, some jumped up wannabe officer would be waiting to greet me, a shit eating grin spread across his face. Well, I had news for them, I am a capsuleer and as stipulated by CONCORD law, I am untouchable within the walls of this station.<br />
<br />
A plan, well fairly simple, escape. I need a ship, an opportunity and a whole heap of luck, but first I need a drink. My fucking ship! I loved that damn ship, how very dare they.<br />
<br />
At least one thing was in my favour, this was a Matari station, therefore getting a drink should be very easy so long as I wanted something strong enough to make a Fedo pause for thought before consuming it.<br />
Attempting a bold, confident exit from the capsuleer restricted section of the station was halted in its tracks by a shuddering automatic door that would only open halfway before showering the passerby in sparks.<br />
<br />
Upon entering the common areas of the station a cool yet musky breeze wafted down the seemingly long abandoned corridors, only seemingly as you could never tell with Matari technology, which often came out of the factory looking centuries old.<br />
<br />
A metallic whir and clank of ill fitting plating caused me to spin about suddenly, only holding at the last second from drawing my concealed laser pistol. One of the small Godsends of this stations decrepit infrastructure, its weapons sensors had been inoperative, due to the multiple bullet holes in the console no doubt.<br />
<br />
The small droid carefully aimed itself at a point a good meter to my left and introduced itself, "Welcome to Hek, Captain, May I ask of your name for our official visitor log?"<br />
<br />
"My name, droid, is none of your concern, I do not intend on staying long"<br />
<br />
"Thankyou, Miss Concern, I hope you will enjoy your stay however long you intend it to be."<br />
<br />
Miss Concern. I allow myself an indulgent grin, some might call it a rarity for me, but you gotta love a stubbornly polite droid, at least it was better than that Gallente service bot that had followed me around for 3 days believing my name was "Miss Off".<br />
<br />
Tuning back from the fading memories to the real world I realise that the droid is still talking to an imaginary point just off my left shoulder;<br />
<br />
"Core Complextions apologises for the lack of a formal greeting at this time, as the stations official welcoming committee is currently otherwise engaged...."<br />
<br />
"What that bucket of rust means is that what is left of them is busy orbiting that planet out there. along with just about every other person who lived here"<br />
<br />
Spinning around suddenly I drop into a crouch and this time I do draw my pistol, levelling it at where the gravelly voice had originated from. I see the shadowy outline of a man emerging from behind what was probably once a delicatessen.<br />
<br />
"Who the hell are you?"<br />
<br />
"This," interjected the droid, "is Mr Dawson, he is currently one of our security consultants on temporary assignment from the Caldari State Protectorate."<br />
<br />
"I didn't ask you droid, I asked him"<br />
<br />
"It is correct though, technically. That was the cover story we arrived under and like a good little machine this scrapyard still believes it. You can put the pistol away, as you can see I am unarmed and to be honest you probably couldn't kill me with that pretty little thing anyway."<br />
<br />
Huffing indignantly I reluctantly re holster my pistol, it had been the only weapon available. One of a pair of ornamental duelling pulse pistols I carry in the 'Oh Shit' cabinet in my pod, along with a few necessities that a pilot recently deprived of a ship may require. Mainly though for sentimental reasons it was a gift from my father as a peace offering when he had finally forgiven me for leaving home to become a capsuleer.<br />
<br />
Returning upright to as much of an imposing stance as I could muster I address the man "I am in no mood for riddles, talk straight and talk fast, today is not a good day and you are low on my priority list"<br />
<br />
"Republic University should like to remind you Miss Concern, that the carrying of personal firearms is prohibited on all interior areas of the station, I should warn you that campus security has been summoned to escort you from the premises immediately."<br />
<br />
The old man grinned, "Ignore that bucket of bolts, as I said just now, you and I are the only living occupants of this station. I can imagine you have many questions to ask, and I'm the only one here capable of answering them, I would also advise you that I am a much more err, elaborate talker when I have a drink or two inside me"<br />
<br />
"Actually no, I have only one question and its more of a demand to be truthful, I need a ship, I have to leave as soon as possible"<br />
<br />
Stopping dead in his tracks the old man turns to me, "You don't have a ship? what is the point in you then huh? A mighty powerful capsuleer without a ship, that's just great" the pain in his eyes belays it as sadness rather than anger.<br />
<br />
"I <i>had</i> a ship, not 2 hours ago I <i>had</i> a ship, but out there and soon to be in here is the reason I no longer have a ship. That is why I need to get out of here, because for some reason they are not playing by the rules, and I don't like that, its not right."<br />
<br />
The old man stood rooted to the spot, "Sansha is back? why would he come back? there is nothing left for him here, he already took everything he wanted, I can't face them again, I cant, not those <i>things</i> ...."<br />
<br />
"Not Sansha, RSS, they have a small fleet out there still, they got my Pilgrim and they damn near got me too. Somehow they shut down the gate, and that shouldn't even be possible. Sure there was that thing with the Caldari guy a year or so back but that was just a cheap holovid, you can't shutdown a Stargate, outside of the Jove, it's just not possible."<br />
<br />
The old man seemed to have mostly recovered from his panic and we started off again along the deserted corridors. Thinly veiled but ultimately empty threats from the enraged greetings droid echoing off the walls dwindling into the background as we move further from its operation zone.<br />
<br />
"Why would RSS bother to set such an elaborate trap just for you? other than being a capsuleer you ain't anything special are ya?"<br />
<br />
"Ohh I don't think this is just business, I crossed paths with an RSS Captain on my last visit to the Republic a month or so ago. I was careless that time and I lost a ship, but he seemed to take it badly. Apparently he has some kind of little vendetta against me, quite cute actually, but I wasn't expecting him to be able to pull anything quite like this"<br />
<br />
We arrived at an open doorway in the interior wall, the area around it had been roughly swept clear, this though marked it out against the decrepit backdrop. A solitary chair stood upright alongside a single table atop which stood a half empty bottle of clear liquid. The neatness and precision with which it stood there in contrast to everything else told me this was where the man had been living.<br />
<br />
Dragging a second chair from a tangle by the wall he tips it upright and motions for me to take the other at the table.<br />
<br />
Halfway through his first glass he turns to me, "So do you know much about your captain then? why he took a liking to you maybe?"<br />
<br />
"He is not <i>my</i> captain, don't say it like that, I have never even met the man"<br />
<br />
"Well, I think that is about to change" he nods back down the hallway the way we had come, I saw a stocky man in full dress uniform with a brace of guards in escort headed our way.<br />
<br />
"Ohh merciful Lord, have you ever seen so much omelet on a single uniform before? what does he think he looks like?"<br />
<br />
After a stifled chuckle the old man nods, "True, it is an impressive breakfast but nothing compared to the Caldari Navy, they all go for double portions."<br />
<br />
Valith halts abruptly two paces short of the table, flicking his eyes from me to the old man and back again he withdraws a compact datapad from his breast pocket. Drawing a breath, "Pilot 815430912, Graduate of Imperial Academy 10/12 YC107 Callsign Evil Incarn8, I am Captain Valith, Commander of the 351st Republic Security Service Heimatar Patrol Wing.<br />
It is my duty to inform you that under the dictates of the Minmatar Republic and under the appropriate guidelines of CONCORD enforcement I am here to arrest you on charges of multiple counts of Abduction and human trafficking, proliferation of prohibited substances. multiple counts of aggression and violent conduct towards officers of Minmatar security and police forces, Non-consensual combat against Minmatar registered starships, theft and pillage of Minmatar Republic strategic resources and Planetary Genocide."<br />
<br />
As Valith pauses to catch his breath the old man turns to me, "He should probably get that done as a recording, would be so much easier that way."<br />
<br />
Chuckling lightly I agree, turning back to Valith, "Planetary Genocide though? I would think I would have remembered that one"<br />
<br />
Valiths eyes glow slightly as a sly grin appears on his lips, "The burning of Starkmanir Prime, as an Amarrian slaver we hold...."<br />
<br />
"I am Khanid, not Amarrian"<br />
<br />
"Close enough, as I was saying, we hold all Amarrians, and their associates, responsible for this atrocity, it is a small compensation for the damage your people caused"<br />
<br />
Rolling my eyes I blow my cheeks out in a drawn out breath, "Fine whatever, so much for letting the past sleep. Well now <i>Mr</i> Valith, as you so eloquently listed my crimes just now I can assume you are familiar with the laws regarding capsuleers, namely, you can't touch me whilst I'm in here."<br />
<br />
"Yes, quite true, but you see I don't need to, my ships guard your only escape and we expect Sansha's minions to return to this station before too long. You are more than welcome to explain your capsuleer protected status to them if you like.<br />
Speaking of which," Valith turns bodily towards the old man, "Oskold Haatomo, well, well I thought I had seen the last of you when we evacuated last week, but no I might have guessed a Gurista would have a hidy-hole somewhere. Either way, Sansha will deal with the pair of you quite nicely, less paper work for me is a bonus" Valith grins before turning on his heel and with guards in tow accelerates back towards the docking bays.<br />
<br />
We sit in silence until Valith has disappeared from view, "Haatomo, not Dawson then and a Gurista too huh" raising an eyebrow to indicate curiosity, "bit out of your jurisdiction though aren't you?"<br />
<br />
Oskold smiled, "Yeah, Valith caught me passing through, but as he hasn't reported it command don't know where I am or I would be long gone by now. Fortunately, if you can call it that, Valith assumes I am just a regular agent. I am something a little more than that though, if only I could get a message to command they would send a rescue for me, but Sansha's raid fried the stations equipment before I could hack into it."<br />
<br />
Tapping my fingers lightly on the table I look up at him before laying out an idea. "If I could get a message out for you, would you be able to put in a word and get me out as well?"<br />
<br />
Flicking his eyes intently at me seemingly looking for the doublecross, "A loyal <i>'Khanid'</i> pilot willing to work with nasty outlaw pirates? when needs must I suppose it draws together strange bedfellows"<br />
<br />
"Caught between RSS and Sansha, I'll take a Gurista on a white horse anyday" I let out a soft chuckle.<br />
<br />
"Well then, far be it for me to be Devil's advocate but beggars cannot be choosers, if you can get my message into the Guristas commanders then I will be able to ensure you are escorted to a place of safety. However, unless you have some serious electronics hidden under that shirt of yours then we are both out of luck, Sanshas zombies really went to town on the communications system."<br />
<br />
"Maybe not up my shirt, but in the docking bay my pod contains a Quantum Entanglement Array, do you think that would suffice?" Barely able to stifle my grin I watch as Oskold joins in, initially hesitant then a wide toothy smile spreads across his face.<br />
<br />
"Yes, yes of course that will suffice." Downing the remains of his drink, he scribbles a quick message for me to send. "Get that sent off to this address and then meet me in the command bridge, you will want to see this"<br />
<br />Evil Incarn8http://www.blogger.com/profile/09200250500245445594noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-174498020569134926.post-76714675608914961402012-11-05T19:40:00.001+00:002013-08-04T16:44:57.740+01:00Caught in the Trap (Part I)<br />
Running for the border, it always seemed to end that way these days. Ohh don't get me wrong it certainly beats the milk run it was back in the day, at least this way is more exciting. Exciting, the threat of imminent death flash frozen, burned to a crisp or ejected into the void, and possibly all 3, only a capsuleer could call it exciting.<br />
<br />
The job still paid well though, I can demand far more compensation for my services these days than back when the Matari Fleet was little more than a handful of rifters and wishful thinking. True the days of bulk orders and clearing out entire colonies of stock were long gone, these days you had to specialise and that is where my talents came in. I style myself as a huntress, I seek out the best prey, blending in, stalking it until the right moment when I strike. I am well known among my discerning clients. I get them what they want, be that an intelligence tool, a double agent, a competitor, or more often than I would like to admit a gentleman's plaything. Maybe I have spent a little too long among the Matari to think of them simply as animals anymore, it is dangerous to underestimate your foe, I have lost too many friends that way. However I believe in the need for unity in humanity, and the Reclaiming is currently the only way this is being achieved.<br />
<br />
This particular run had gone well, 11 assets collected most fairly low level stuff a few technicians for a holders maintenance crew no doubt, although I had collected one special item. The holders son is turning 18 and as any doting father would do he is getting his heir an impressive coming of age gift. I think I chose well with her, a beautiful young thing, they will be pleased.<br />
<br />
I like to think I am a good host to my passengers for the brief time they are aboard my vessel, as the methods and requirements of asset retrieval have changed so have the tools employed. Gone are the fleets of bestowers carrying every fit or nearly fit asset in the colony, these days I fly a Pilgrim specially equipped with storage units for live cargo, you don't get paid for bodies anymore. The cloaking technology is also a requirement, Republic Security has tightened significantly and being able to lay low or flit unseen through a blockade is invaluable.<br />
<br />
That technology was just about to earn its extortionate price tag once again, scanners were picking up multiple hostiles of assorted size spread around the next gate we had to pass through. Checking that all systems were in order we de-orbited from our temporary hiding spot and with not even the subtlest hint for an observer to pick up we slipped into warp to the gate.<br />
<br />
The shudder as the warp drive pulls us out of warp vibrates through every plating every bolt and every crewman aboard, even me buried inside my pod deep in the core, still the shudder penetrates vying with my external senses reminding me of my true self. Close range scanners reveal the nature of the Matari blockade, Republic Security Services, these boys were good, not quite Fleet good though, and definitely not as good as me. Three cruisers, a Typhoon and the ubiquitous swarm of rifters, we only had to cover a few kilometres before I could initiate the gate and inform my hosts that they had once again failed to stop me.<br />
<br />
My crew is mostly Matari, all long serving trustworthy types handpicked by myself, I think it is important to make a good first impression on new recruits. They have heard nothing but lies and slander from their own leaders blinded by centuries of hate with little or no actual experiences to back it up with. True there are some bad situations, but there are far more holders who actually care for their stock. Replacements are not cheap, my income proves that much, so it doesn't make sense to waste a limited resource. I try to show them the truth of the situation, my crew is well fed, healthy and happy I hope this helps to dispel the fears of those I collect. I know that it can be a traumatic time for them but one day they will thank me for improving their place not just in this world, but also the next.<br />
<br />
I sometimes think of my crew at their posts, I wonder how many of them would make it to the pods if I failed to slip by a blockade, probably not many. My tutor back at old ImpAc would have a fit if he knew how much my mind wandered whilst piloting, he was always a stickler for "pure of mind, pure of purpose." I can't help it, the days of staring fixatedly at the unknowing hulls praying for them to maintain course as I slip by had long since past. 3 ... 2 .... 1 ... gate activation .... failed.<br />
<br />
"What?, retry" ... failed<br />
<br />
Notify, your cloaking system has deactivated due to the proximity of the stargate<br />
<div>
<br />
"Ohh shisse"<br />
<br />
"Re-align Planet 3 Now! get that warp drive charging, activate damage controls, start getting a firing solution on any ships attempting interdiction"<br />
<br />
Panic, total panic, the flood of adrenaline knowing death is sat at your shoulder watching your every move, ohh how I love it.<br />
<br />
Time seems to slow down, my heart rate doubles, thumping loudly in my ears. I watch as my beautiful Pilgrim obeys my commands slewing her nose around. The distant sun glinting weakly off of the unofficially retained ruby red plating, no way was I letting them put brown on her. The speed climbs, but RSS ships are closing fast.<br />
<br />
We are not going to make it. No sooner had I thought it than sirens blare around the ship and within my own mind indicating multiple webbifiers and warp scramblers had activated, seems we were staying for the duration then.<br />
<br />
A mixed flight of ECM and light drones launch at my command I would prefer a full flight of either but I need to mix giving and preventing damage in equal measures.<br />
<br />
It is the battleship that worries me most, being practically stationary within 30km of a Typhoon is not healthy even for a Pilgrim. My Ewar is top line Caldari tech, when it comes to saving my arse I don't skimp on the ISK. They should have no problem keeping the primitive battleships electronics busy whilst my equally top line Gallente combat drones started working away at the tacklers. The pilgrims own systems were keeping the cruisers long range fire at bay, they had been stationed on the opposite side of the gate so my tracking disruption was working its magic on them.<br />
<br />
Notify, Critical hit to drone bay, repair facility inoperative<br />
Notify, armour damage exceeds current repair capacity, please consider upgrading repair capacity at next opportunity.<br />
<br />
Despite my best efforts and a decent number of rifters being dispatched this battle was only going one way,<br />
<br />
Notify, Oxtail soup dispenser in crew galley inoperative<br />
<br />
"General stations, all auxiliary crew are to abandon ship at once, this is not a drill, get out. essential crew are to remain at stations, do not let me down"<br />
<br />
Notify, Power failure in main shield generator, backup failure<br />
Notify, Artificial gravity field fluctuating<br />
<br />
One by one systems were overloading, critical support systems were shutting down, multiple hotspots were appearing all over the sleek hull faster than the nanobots could heal them. My unique exterior view told me what the remaining crew inside could not see, atmosphere venting from non-essential compartments. She has served me well, over a dozen trips deep into the Republic, but it would seem today Fate caught up with her.<br />
<br />
Notify, drone control uplink failure,<br />
Notify, auxiliary power generators overloading<br />
Notify, hull breach on deck 3<br />
Notify, engineering section vented to space<br />
Notify, ... "Cancel warning messages... I know it's over"<br />
<br />
"All remaining crew abando..."<br />
<br />
Notify, Main reactor critical<br />
Notify pod ejection successful<br />
<br />
Incoming message from your friendly local insurance company ....<br />
<br />
Neural command, warp capsule to planet 7, realign and warp to 0.5 au below the star.<br />
<br />
The initial kick from the ejection system gets my capsule into warp before the feeding frenzy of rifters manage to ensnare it. As my viewpoint streaks into the nothingness of warp, I take one last look at the rapidly expanding debris field around the glowing hull that was all that remained of my Pilgrim. There were nowhere near enough capsules awaiting recovery.<br />
<br />
"Aura, check my access rights with the local station owners, find anyone who will let me dock, declare an emergency, whatever it takes. I need a drink."<br />
<br />
Damnit, they didn't stand a chance, I waited too long, I should have... I didn't <i>have</i> to do anything, but I should have. I really didn't need this now, Pilgrims are expensive and I was supposed to be saving, damnit it will take months to get a replacement crew trained as well. And the contract, no payment for this trip, I hope the customers understand, I will have to offer discounts on the next trip, the wardrobe fund is going to be tight this month.<br />
<br />
I really wanted that new corset too.<br />
<br />
<br />
Bloody Mataris !!!<br />
<br /></div>
Evil Incarn8http://www.blogger.com/profile/09200250500245445594noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-174498020569134926.post-42203052786290930892011-11-22T21:14:00.001+00:002013-08-04T16:46:37.087+01:00Recruitment TechniquesCaptain Valith paced the bridge of his flagship impatiently, his salvage crews were taking a long time to scout through the single wrecked ship that floated just off the bow. A crackle of static breaks him out of his stride, turning to face the comns loudspeaker he stuffs his hands into the pockets of his Minmatar Militia officers jacket.<br />
<br />
"Sir preliminary survey completed," the voice is distant and muffled from the proximity of the microphone to the speaker within his EVA suits helmet.<br />
<br />
"It seems the reactor meltdown did a complete wipe of the main datacore, we ain't gonna get anything out of that anytime soon. However we did recover a single datachip from one of the crew quarters, its pretty messed up but I can transmit you at least one complete file for analysis, others may be possible under better conditions in the lab."<br />
<br />
Valith sighed heavily, he had been hoping for more, the capsuleer piloting this ship had committed many crimes within the Republic and he was determined to trace and apprehend them, hard evidence however would turn this from a chase to a trap and Valith didn't like chasing.<br />
<br />
"Transmitting data stream now, channel two,"<br />
<br />
====================================================================<br />
<br />
Crewman 3rd Rate Oskold (Ozz) Shikari,<br />
20/11/113 22:38:20<br />
<br />
The dark areas of the lower level of any station are a haven of vagabonds and ne'er-do-wells at the best of times, but Boundless Creation had truly created the Haven of Havens with the seemingly never ending labyrinth below the heaving market hub of Hek.<br />
<br />
These narrow streets no longer held any fear for me, I was raised here, fought in many a schoolboy scuffle amid the abandoned warehouses of companies long since past. These days the hallways house those who do not wish to be found, the underhanded, the criminal and the downright immoral, they were probably always there but in my youth the true horrors of the world were safely hidden behind monsters and other scary shapes in the dark.<br />
<br />
On this particular day I was headed deep into the rabbithole searching for nothing in particular beyond what may be there for the taking, I am not a thief by nature its just the only way to get by when you fall to the bottom of the ladder. It didn't take me long to notice the hooded figure trying not to be obviously following me, it makes me laugh, the harder you try to be unobtrusive the easier you are to spot.<br />
<br />
My initial thoughts were law enforcement, as would any honest citizen doing something they knew they probably shouldn't be doing. It was unlikely though, Republic Security or even Boundless' own patrols almost never came down here, and when they did it was not hooded and discrete, it was hundreds of them in full riot gear. I sized up the hooded figure, either they would leave, I would evade them or at some point I would be forced to confront them. The cloak seemed to add bulk to what was probably quite a lithe fellow, a good 6 inches shorter than my 6'4" as well, this served to calm my nerves somewhat I could probably take him without to much trouble assuming he wasn't armed.<br />
<br />
Three random turns later and he is still there, slightly closer now that I had started trying to shake him, definitely got me in his sights, my heart begins to pound, fight or flight? the question posed since time immaterial. I had slowed to consider my options expecting the stranger to follow suit and lurk in a shadow somewhere. I was wrong.<br />
<br />
Turning I see the hooded figure rather closer than I had expected, a hand is extended from beneath the folds of cloak, small, very small hand wrapped in a skintight leathery glove. It catches my forearm with a grip like a vice, becoming less sure of my position now a voice emits from within the impossibly dark cowl, soft yet sharp exotically accented in a dialect of Matari that was uncommon in Hek, and undoubtedly female.<br />
<br />
"Get off the street if you want to see tomorrows sunrise, don't you know they are hunting you? yet here you are wandering down the street like nothings wrong," The hissed warning curls though my consciousness, her tones cut through my confusion and I make to reply, but she cuts me short.<br />
"Move it you great oaf!, you want to get the both of us killed?" she pushes firmly into the small of my back and I allow myself to be guided by her. "In there, the abandoned shop, no don't stand in the window!, how did you manage to live this long already? into the store room"<br />
<br />
I am still trying to place her accent when the nevejam crashes into the base of my spine, the world explodes and the floor rushes up to meet me.<br />
<br />
As my vision slowly begins to return a dark figure forms against the murky background, the hooded figure is kneeling on the floor just off to my side, beside her another form swims but refuses to hold a recognisable shape. My legs are still tingling from the aftereffects of the nervejam, when I try to reach out to massage some feeling back into them I realise I am shackled to a piece of exposed pipework, rattling my chains I look quizzically at my saviour turned captor,<br />
<br />
"Whats with chaining me up? Did you really need to knock me out? Who are you and whats your game?"<br />
<br />
Her hood is pulled back slightly now allowing what light there is in the room to illuminate some of her features, my first realisation was that she was no local girl, the high cheekbones narrow eyes and smooth pale skin spoke of a foreign land. She stares at me intently,<br />
<br />
"You are restrained for your own, and my, safety I don't know how you will respond to our little chat, and I am not known for taking risks with my own safety. Who I am..." she mulls this one over a while,<br />
<br />
"I am known as Evil Incarn8, my real name is unimportant to you, I am an independent capsuleer although I retain links to the Khanid Kingdom, my game as you put it, is how shall we say, recruitment" she grins at this comment.<br />
<br />
"Yes recruitment is as good as any other way of putting it. Now to business I think,"<br />
<br />
A capsuleer? but they are vastly powerful, vastly rich what was a capsuleer doing in this pit of squalor? and more specifically, an operative of the Khanid Kingdom was interested in me personally, this was more worrying than the other details.<br />
<br />
"Your life is in danger, you do not have long to live, as we speak you are being killed by a viral agent in your bloodstream", she spoke in clipped tones, her grasp of Matari good yet the flowery accent spoke of a far different natural language for her.<br />
<br />
"Other than your nervejam I feel fine, my last health scan was clear, how can you be sure I have anything wrong?" I was bemused, why should a capsuleer go to such effort to warn me of ill health?<br />
<br />
A truly wicked smile grew across her face, "I am sure you are infected as I myself have just infected you."<br />
She raises a hypodermic gun from her lap, the charge vessel clearly empty.<br />
"This is one of the most recent strains of Vitoc, a rather useful, if unpleasant substance. Without antidote you will die a most horrific death within 24 hours, unfortunately this is no permanent cure, the antidote is more of a.. hmm, a stay of execution should we say, another 24hours of life. As such it forms a very neat method of controlling people without physical force, no point in escaping as you will only die and your captor holds the only key to staying alive. Elegant, don't you think?"<br />
<br />
I am horrified by her words, my initial impulse is to run, my stomach turns over when I realise that's my worst option, "What do you want with me? why me, what have I done to you to deserve this?"<br />
<br />
"So many questions, but alas none of them the correct one. What do I want with you? nothing, you are nothing to me. Why you? you made yourself an easy target, prime specimen; strong, plenty of stamina and educated just enough to be useful in a technical field. What have you done to deserve this? Ha, nothing at all, you probably don't deserve it, but since when has the universe ever had a sense of whats fair?"<br />
<br />
"I am going to release your restraints soon, and you have a choice to make; You can run, see if you can make it to the door before Reggie here makes lunch of you." She motions towards the form beside her, my vision has steadied enough to make it out now, a large; dog doesn't do it justice wolf perhaps, sits obediently beside her. Its head is held high, as high as the woman's own, it holds my gaze firmly, panting slightly exposing a row of razor sharp fangs. "Or", she continues, "you can take my offer, get out of this hellhole, see the stars, go to the edge of space to meet interesting people in exotic locations, I am offering you a job Matari, a job for life, a job you will only get one chance at."<br />
<br />
So what choice did I have? I agreed to her conditions, she very graciously allowed me time to sort my affairs, to remove myself entirely from existence. It didn't take as long as I had hoped, seems I wasn't having much of an impact on the world around me. This sobering thought fresh in my mind I clutched my small satchel standing at the foot of the crew gangway looking up at a golden wall of armour plate. The Brutor crew chief smiled knowingly as I signed aboard a full 4 hours earlier than Evil had asked of me, I wasn't taking any chances however advanced she claimed this Vitoc stuff was.<br />
<br />
====================================================================<br />
<br />
"OK, kill the feed we don't need anymore of that", Valith shook his head in dismay, harvesting slave crews from within the heart of the Republic? the very guile, how very dare she? He skimmed over the preliminary reports from the encounter earlier that morning between his squadron and the sole capsuleer battlecruiser. He had lost 4 Rupture class cruisers, 3 Rifters and a Thrasher class destroyer for this, almost 100 good honest warriors lost fighting for the freedom of their brothers. Now it turns out the capsuleer ship was entirely crewed by Matari as well? counting crew as well as those being transported into the bowels of the Empire that left another 50 dead.<br />
<br />
"Dammit all," Vailith cursed, hurling the datapad back at the startled comms officer he turned on his heel and headed for his personal quarters.<br />
<br />
"Set course back for base," Vailith calls over his shoulder, "No point lingering around here, leave this mess for the vultures to deal with".<br />
<br />
Alone in his quarters Vailith puts in a secure data link to the Concord database, "Pilot Ident 'Evil Incarn8', Search" the command is answered immediately the face of a young Khanid woman unfolds onto his screen.<br />
Looking upon his face Vailith allows himself to grin despite the days setback,<br />
<br />
"Once it has a name you can kill it, and now I know your name my dear".<br />
<br />
Drawing his fingers softly across her image he cuts the link.<br />
<br />
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------<br />
<br />
This story is effectively a prequal to my "Caught in the Trap" series.<br />
<br />Evil Incarn8http://www.blogger.com/profile/09200250500245445594noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-174498020569134926.post-68248751036625269942011-02-28T20:41:00.000+00:002011-03-13T23:25:49.354+00:00Sansha's NationIt was a small street cafe, probably the pride and joy of the owner who had spent every day looking after a small group of regulars with idle chat on the important topics of discussion that day. Elizabeth tried to imagine how it had been, but all she saw were the boarded up windows and the street furniture they had piled up as a makeshift barricade.<br />
<br />
The three avatars had been crouched here for near 6 hours now, the position would have been impossible for a human, but Elizabeth and her colleagues bodies were housed much deeper into the station, held suspended in full immersion sarcophagi with only their minds active keeping vigilant watch over the deserted street.<br />
<br />
Sansha's zombie army had crashed into the system two weeks previously and had quickly overrun the native Imperial defence fleet, not that there had been much deployed to defend such an out of the way system to begin with. Now that the colonies planet side had been bled dry it was the turn of the main station, huge ships of designs only capable of emerging from Sansha's own insane mind had been patrolling just outside the defencive perimeter since they first appeared, they burned any ship foolish enough to try and run the blockade with fiery lances of laser energy, the weak commercial vessels singeing black before rupturing and spilling atmosphere, debris and biomass into space forming tiny nebulae around the slowly spinning metallic skeletons. <br />
<br />
It had been on that very first day soon after the Imperial message clipper had beamed its terse message to the commanders of the defence forces that they were to expect no assistance or reinforcements before turning tail and burning back for the gate that the call had gone out for volunteers. To Elizabeth it had been a simple choice as soon as she saw the first refugee transport with its hurriedly painted Sisters Of EvE medical corps logo, disabled then boarded by the patrolling battleships. Elizabeth had been watching the departure from a viewing platform high above the garden deck, bunking an afternoon off from her day job as a waitress in the commercial sector, hoping against hope that the transport would get away but with a forboding knowledge that it probably wouldn't. She had walked straight from the view port in the upper deck garden to the Fleet recruitment office and sat at the tail end of the que, not even bothering to submit her notice to the manager at the cafe. After 3 hours she had seen a young overworked rating who had simply asked her name, taken a scan of her implant and handed her a commission paper into the cybernetics division.<br />
<br />
Now here she sat, a sergeant with her two troopers, guarding an intersection in that very same upper garden deck, the professional soldiers had been given the important areas to defend, docking bays, factories, military installations and as this was Sansha's Nation they also guarded the primary residential areas. The volunteers had been assigned all other areas as well as being used for logistics and the only reinforcements in system.<br />
<br />
There had been nearly six thousand recruits since the invasion, most of those being in the first three days, heavily outnumbering the Imperial Guards five hundred professional career soldiers. The entire industrial capacity of the station has been requisitioned to build them all mechanical warrior bodies and the sarcophagi to operate them from, as well as the fully autonomous drones and other paraphernalia of modern urban warfare. Those who had not volunteered had thrown themselves at the few remaining transport vessels still docked, some got through the blockade, however most didn't and were swallowed whole by the Nations military machine.<br />
<br />
Elizabeth could understand the desire of people to escape whole, the scriptures spoke of the evils and sin of living your life in a body crafted not by God but grown in a laboratory cold and lifeless until your consciousness was burned from your skull and poured in, did your soul follow you? was it destined to burn in purgatory until you finally rejoined it? would that separation taint you in the eyes of the Lord on His Day of Reckoning? Certainly the few capsuleers Elizabeth had encountered and the stories she had heard led her to believe cloning did not involve the soul in any way they were cold, arrogant and distant in the extreme. Why she had chosen to volunteer then sometimes confused her, with its golden promise of a one shot clone escape to the heart of the Empire, provided she fought to her very last breath, death would be her escape to the rest of her life.<br />
<br />
Scanning the far reaches of the road for the 3rd time in as many minutes Elizabeth returned to the open forces comm channel to listen for any signs of action from any of the other volunteer detachments, as for the last few hours it had degenerated into random chatter on any number of topics, least of which was the impending firefights. It seemed people wanted to think about just about anything else she didn't mind this but hoped it would clear up when Sansha finally made his move.<br />
<br />
She was getting used to her adopted body, she had been living, working and training in it solidly from the moment she was first immersed in the cold fluid back in the cybernetics division barrack room. That had been a shock, lying back into the vat of fluid, the interface socket smoothly connecting into the base of her skull and her thoughts immediately transferring to the towering construct stood over her, she had been able to look down in time to see the thick fluid cover her own face and the capsule lid seal her inside. The construct itself was a terrifying beast, it had been designed by the best military minds in the Empire to be just that. Standing two meters tall a body of interlocking matt black armour plates protected a biological mix match of organs and electromechanical devices that was part bred, part grown, part built, all for the purpose of destruction.<br />
<br />
Mounting an incorporated weapon on each arm it was capable of laying down heavy fire, and accurate too utilising the fire support programming and servo assisted muscles, whilst moving as nimbly and faster than any human soldier, Elizabeth's construct was armed with a simple but effective chain gun on her right arm capable of spewing out a stream of solid projectiles from a large box magazine, the left arm was a twin barreled grenade launcher, capable of loosing 5 rounds a second of a variety of ammunition types. However the Fleet had restricted the volunteer corps to the use of EMP and stun grenades after the first few days in simulation suggested explosive grenades were not the best idea.<br />
<br />
Adrian spotted it first, crouching to Elizabeth's left, as he gazed up through the crystal dome, a star had begun moving across the backdrop, then another and another gradually expanding and gaining a pale blue halo of the drive plume, Sansha was on his way.<br />
<br />
After a few minutes 15 of them were visible as large vessels, but not of the fearsome nightmare configuration, these had a more businesslike look, blunt nosed with multiple swellings around a central docking port come airlock for grapple magnets, these were boarding vessels and they weren't headed for the docking bays.<br />
<br />
Elizabeth hurriedly called out into the intel channels trying to get hold of someone in the command structure, as two of the vessels slowly nudged up to the dome, large rubberised suction cups emerge from blisters around the blunt face and pull the ship tight to the dome. Small nozzles buried within the contacting surface ooze a thick sealing fluid gluing the blunt face to the crystal. A quick flash of laser light and a line is scored in a perfect circle the 2 meter ring of crystal tumbles slowly as it falls and shatters into a thousand pieces on the landscaped park below. There is nothing for a few moments, then the central eye irises open, a sudden roar startles Elizabeth, she turns to see a thin smoke trail rise rapidly from beyond the lake, arcing across the sky it enters the iris, a muffled crump is heard. The external hull of the boarding ship contains the incendiary device easily however the boiling gas spreads throughout the large open interior incinerating the very atmosphere until a blaze of flame billows from the open iris, followed shortly by a few charred bodies tumbling down until they are caught short by flaming abseil ropes.<br />
<br />
The second boarding vessel was more cautious, a laser turret mounted within the airlock cut swathes through the neat treeline slicing through gazebos and benches, setting neat rows of flowers to flame, also dislodging the missile emplacement long enough for the first shock troops to leap from the dome free falling until the bungee cords pull them to a halt just off the floor.<br />
<br />
"We meet them where they land", the three troopers begin running towards the drop zone, leaping hedgerows and park benches, darting through alleyways between little shops, bars and clubs. creeping up on the final corner Elizabeth launches a volley of mixed EMP and stun grenades high over the buildings, waiting for the first detonations they rush out, chain guns and launchers spreading death and confusion. The most recent landers get cut down where they are, heavy metal slugs ripping through flesh and armour alike, one unfortunate taking a flashbang to his face, those already down drop to a crouch and begin returning fire from light laser carbines, multicoloured beams cut lines through the air around the constructs, glancing blows easily dealt with by the heat dissipation elements within the body armour, some more direct hits blow flakes of the laminate armour off, designed to ablate rather than spread large amounts of heat into other areas of the suit it gave good protection under even heavy fire, provided it was for short durations only.<br />
<br />
Elizabeth piled into cover behind a small confectionery delicatessen, the two other troopers taking similar positions nearby, the situation begins to develop into a standoff, with sufficient Sansha forces landed to keep the troopers heads down, they are restricted to taking shots at the newly arriving Sansha as they plummet from the dome. The local comm channel is filled with similar tales, Sansha boarding in unexpected areas, pinning inexperienced volunteers into firefights that are going nowhere.<br />
<br />
A thermal warning alerts Elizabeth to a rapidly rising temperature in the gardens boundary wall behind them, turning she sees an arch of metal glowing ruby red, signaling to her comrades they bolt just as a third boarding ship begins unloading its brain dead cargo directly through the hull of the station.<br />
"Its far too open out here, and we are outnumbered, head for the main street,"<br />
Taking a contorted route through the jumble of small buildings they head out of the garden, where the industrial/commercial district met the wide open space of the garden, the narrow corridors hemmed in by any number of shops boutiques and manufacturies of any and all types should serve to focus the zombies into a killing zone.<br />
<br />
Reforming a short distance into the passage they take positions behind counters and concrete plant troughs, a brief lul ensues as they await the inevitable assault. A crackle issues through the comms and almost immediately two large black figures charge into the passage, barely holding their fire the 3 troopers allow the newcomers to join the new barricade.<br />
<br />
A storm of small fist sized spheres bounce down the passageway registering the danger the constructs turn to protect themselves, an instinctive biological response that turned the weaker side and rear armour to the following detonations. No sooner had they gone off than beams of light began burning holes through the smoke, scrabbling to their feet the troopers begin retreating down the passage loosing volleys of grenades and long bursts from their chain guns at any shadow or swirl in the smoke. A second set of detonations erupt from the ground, from spheres on delayed fuses, one trooper is lifted from the ground his legs blown out from under him. Leaving the man to hold his position the remaining four continue to pull back.<br />
<br />
"Hold them off as long as you can, then disconnect and return to base for a fresh body", Elizabeth calls out to the fallen trooper, a short fusillade of chain gun and grenade launcher on full auto is followed by the crack and sizzle of rapid fire lasers, a muffled whoosh and crack of the constructs overloaded powercore detonating punches a column of heated air high into the air dragging the lingering remains of the smokescreen with it.<br />
<br />
The battle rages on throughout the day, each time a construct falls his pilot checks out a replacement from stock returning to the battle as soon as he can get to the frontlines, Sansha's seemingly endless minions march forwards pressing ever further into the station. The cost is high, every corridor, every street, every intersection and shopfront is littered with the broken bodies of unfortunates from a hundred worlds, mutilated long before they arrived on this station they finally find an end.<br />
<br />
Despite a lack of actual physical exertion, the mental strain of fighting and dieing over and over many times during the day was beginning to get to Elizabeth, she was making mistakes, everyone was. The supply of constructs was beginning to dwindle as the industrial sections fell, or the supplies of raw materials were used up and still Sansha showed no sign of slowing his advance, huge transport ships had docked once the ports had been captured, pouring zombies in by the thousand.<br />
<br />
Elizabeth found herself backing up a corridor she had walked down once a fortnight earlier, they were backing towards the barrack rooms calling into the comm channels again she heard other volenteers abandoning the constructs and engaging the self destruct on their capsules as Sansha broke in. Loosing off a burst of grenades down the corridor she turns to check the label on the nearest door, not hers but not far off. The pause and distraction has allowed Sansha to get a clean shot at her, the blow knocks her from her feet, sliding back down the corridor she comes to rest against the wall, this door is hers, damnation, no time for a change of body, this was the final stand.<br />
<br />
Dragging her smashed legs behind her, she drags herself along the corridor to get some cover, the chaingun not providing much purchase on the hard metallic floor, but wriggling along she gets to the doorway propping herself up she smashes the magazine from the fallen marine construct next to her,<br />
<br />
"Now its playtime"<br />
<br />
She snaps the new magazine into the grenade launcher, its contents immediately registering on her HUD, a 33% mix of HE, EMP and Incendiary rounds, Grinning she swings the barrel down the corridor and lets rip. Shock waves and flashes of flame mix with the blue energy waves from EMP rounds, bringing the chain gun to bare she adds a clatter of heavy slugs into the killing field, not releasing the trigger even after the grenade launcher starts cycling air. She is still walking the chain gun back and fore as the Sansha start picking their way through the glowing deck plates, stepping over the charred and still smoking bodies of the earlier wave.<br />
<br />
The low ammunition alarm sounds in her head as the chain gun cycles onto its last clip and automatically switches down to semi automatic fire mode, calling up the targeting cross hair for the first time that day, she begins picking off targets as they leave cover, a single round per man, head shot, body or even legs, the 20mm projectiles are sufficient to take them off their feet or drop them, the lack of supporting fire however allows Sansha's numbers to come into play, the number of strikes to her armour increases, at first flakes knocked of here and there, but it rapidly becomes constant, damage alarms sound as the armour thins dramatically with the increased thermal input, Elizabeth puts the powercore output to critical and continues picking off as many as she can.<br />
<br />
The warning tone sounds in her mind for, she cant remember how many times she has died today, the familiar flash of light, wrench on every muscle and stab of pain to the core of her mind and then the awakening in another construct, the start up sequen... no wait this isn't another construct, this is her, the real her. The memories of her latest final moments come tumbling back to her of the battle a mere 100 meters away, the realisation that her body was now in impending danger, that Sansha himself was coming for her, and her alone. Fear rose within her real and powerful for perhaps the first time that day as she engaged the exterior cameras and panned around the bay.<br />
<br />
Clear, for now.<br />
<br />
Then the door explodes inwards, Sansha's nation swarms inside, and the other capsules around the bay begin to detonate as the pilots flee, burning their bodies and transporting their consciousness deep into the assumed safety of the Empire, Elizabeth engages her own destruct sequence and watches the Sansha for probably the first time, shocked into how human and how ... not they are. The total lack of emotion on the faces even as chain gun rounds tear through flesh and muscle, the bodies go down without so much as a grimace or cry of pain, they simply stop moving forwards, the momentum carried on by the next man. Most of the sarcophagi burst, destroying the body within before the Nation gets to them, Elizabeth however witnesses where they do not, and a pilot is dragged screaming from his fluid he screams all the way out of the barracks.<br />
<br />
Sansha turn as one towards her, the eyes fix on the cameras as if boring straight into her own eyes, seeing her hiding deep within, they move forwards, she checks the counter, its going to be close, very close, why did they think a 30 sec timer was a good idea? the first man reaches her platform, climbing up, he stands on the casing, a second and third pile on, fingers scrabbling at the seals, nails tear blood flows along the joins, one gains purchase,<br />
<br />
The door begins to yield,<br />
<br />
Elizabeth can do nothing,<br />
<br />
The door is pulled wider,<br />
<br />
Arms reach inside,<br />
<br />
One of them grasps her leg and she kicks out,<br />
<br />
Another one gets her arm, she is pulled forwards,<br />
<br />
Her head breaks the surface of the fluid, she stares with her own eyes into the insane grinning face of Sansha,<br />
<br />
The charge detonates<br />
<br />
Elizabeth falls to the floor, the fluid running off her body, a medical technician gently takes her arm, she screams, slipping in the fluid she falls on her back, quietly sobbing she curls into a ball,<br />
<br />
Safe at last.Evil Incarn8http://www.blogger.com/profile/09200250500245445594noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-174498020569134926.post-16662015457504600802010-09-01T23:50:00.000+01:002010-09-01T23:50:06.434+01:00A Day In The LifeThe gloom slowly fades as the artificial lighting is increased across the vast hanger bay to simulate another perfect morning. Distant echoes of morning prayers filter from congregations of commoners down the main public processions, and from private chapels high up in the walls overlooking the vast open canyons within the station. Smells of cooking begin to sift out from countless cafes and street vendors, from high class restaurants to the greasy spoons hidden down back alleys.<br />
<br />
All this commotion has little effect on the sleeping form of a young lady, sharp shafts of light penetrate through the patterns in the thin curtains painting clear images on the far wall. Three soft taps are heard, a door silently sweeps open. They do not even register to the girl still alone in her mind, a small head appears around the door shortly followed by the body of a small Matari child, she walks across the room and draws open the curtains flooding light into the gloomy chamber. The child pads back to the doorway and retrieves a small hand cart which she guides back towards the bed, kneeling down she addresses the sleeping form softly as if not wishing to awaken her,<br />
"Mistress Incarn8, Mistress Incarn8, morning has risen and I have your meal ready, Mistress?" her voice conveys a mixed message of an eagerness for her to rise with an almost hidden wish that she will not.<br />
<br />
An arm emerges from the tangled bedclothes, a muttered curse and a low groan,<br />
"What time is it child, can you not see I am sleeping?"<br />
<br />
"Uughh Mistress it is past 10 and ..." the girl is frozen to the spot, a rabbit caught in headlights, the interruption stops the mumbling girl in her tracks,<br />
<br />
"Leave the food here and go select my wardrobe, I shall be attending central today, so something suitably intimidating I think, go now", the arm waves dismissively towards the door, and the child quickly leaves, closing the door behind her.<br />
<br />
The bedclothes remain motionless for a moment or two more, before a pair of legs emerge, one tanned bronze, well toned and healthy. The other is missing, replaced by a metallic prosthetic from just below the left knee, its slivered glimmer contrasts with the golden hue of the rest of her body, but she shines all over as if oiled or lit from within by some lantern. She regards the trolley briefly before padding, and clicking, across the marbled floor towards her wash room. The sounds of flowing water waft into the bedroom when the young slave girl returns with a second trolley, this one supporting an elaborate full length dress, headdress, a pair of scruffy black combat boots along with all the assorted undergarments and tools required to attach them to a body.<br />
<br />
Fully three parts of an hour later, the young girl is again banished from the room as the older woman now ready to face the day, her hair, body and face made up to maintain an image of Amarrian power. Clad from neck to toe the dress screams out, "Yes I am female, but don't you dare treat me like one, I am strong, I am self assured, I am not a man and I don't care." A jet black bodice hides her true curves, yet supplies her with a respectable if discrete profile. Spilling from her shoulders and hips, a dark blood red cape and trailing skirts once again cover up and yet still accentuate her figure, hiding the truth and allowing you to imagine what you will. Her feet, hidden behind the heavy hem line of her skirts, are clad in most definitely not feminine combat boots, thick and heavy they provide a sturdy base for her to pile her image around.<br />
<br />
Taking a mechanised walkway to the central district Evil stands gripping the support frame lightly with one satin clad hand. Staring into the distance on not object in particular with her straight black hair streaming behind her as she is whisked along the increasingly busy route. Stepping lightly from the platform, the glove is peeled off and discarded, almost instantly it is collected by one of the stations army of cleanerbots which scuttles back into a small opening in the wall clutching its prize.<br />
Making rapid progress along narrower streets now, her attire is beginning to blend in with more and more of the locals as the incomes and apartment prices begin to soar. Not so much as glancing into the shops and fashionable boutiques lining the route she suddenly stops short causing others matching her pace to avoid the new obstacle.<br />
<br />
Turning she looks at the name above the stall that has caught her eye, 'Rigel's Labour Bazzar', it was a simple slave market, tarted up and trying its best to look respectable true, but a slave market all the same. Quite what it was doing on such a prominent street was another matter entirely to the one aspect that had caught her eye deep in the gloom. There was the usual mass lists of Brutor available for hard labour displayed on vid screens along the one wall, no one bothered displaying an example of them as they were more trouble than it was worth to have in polite society.<br />
Along the back and opposite walls there were displayed the house broken sebestors and other members of the less physically able tribes where looks and condition mattered to a potential owning family. Tagged to each cage was an info screen proving genetic stability, training received, expected years of service remaining and all the usual information required by the intelligent shopper, but none of this was what Evil had homed in on.<br />
<br />
At the far end next to a particularly old and haggard looking Vherokior cook was a separate cage containing only one example of a young girl who was curled up on the floor dressed in what would take a significant stretch of imagination to describe as rags. Evil stood next to the cage looking down on the girl she realised what had caught her eye, the girl was not Sebestor, nor even Vherokior as she first appeared, she wasn't even Matari, turning to the wizened old man who evidently was Rigal from the way watched every customer come and go,<br />
"Hey, store man get over here," the sharp tone of authority cut straight through to muscle response skipping any thought process the man may have had,<br />
<br />
"What is it my dear?" croaked the old man, "You like the look of this one, ehh?"<br />
<br />
"Cut the sales talk Rigel, what in Gods good name are you doing with a Jin-Mei in your store? you did know that didn't you? she is from the Federation you know, have you any idea how much trouble that could cause you?" the barrage of questions seemed to confuse the old man, before his eyes widened signaling he had finally got around the concept.<br />
<br />
"She is a Gallante? but I don't understand, she came in with the shipment just like all the others" the man began to stumble over his words, "I just put her out here as I thought she looked prettier than the usual ones, I was expecting quite a good price on her"<br />
<br />
"Well of course she looks prettier you stupid, blind old man she isn't Matari" the severity of the snapped response was like a slap in the face, and the man visibly reeled from it. "As for getting a good price, HA, you will be lucky to avoid time before the council." Letting her threats settle in she pauses to watch the child again, still curled up, it is obvious that she is now awake and aware of the argument, although whether she spoke enough High Amarrian to catch its meaning Evil couldn't be sure.<br />
<br />
"So, what can I do? I have to get rid of her, I cant be dragged to the council not with my reputation to keep I'll be ruined!" Rigel is visibly worried<br />
<br />
It should never be this easy, chuckled Evil to herself, "Well, if you are that worried about the authorities Rigel perhaps I can be of some assistance to you? You know full well that capsuleer vessels are off limits to inspections, and I just happen to be a capsuleer with a vessel here in station" she can barely contain the grin at getting one over on the old geezer.<br />
<br />
"You would do that for me? ohh bless your soul young lady, I shall be in your debt" the old man confused by the sudden onslaught against him has allowed his experience to be sidewashed, there is no law preventing the salve of slaves of any race, providing the correct documentation is in place.<br />
<br />
"Have no fear old man, it would be an honour for me to aid you, I should pay yo a small fee though as I would not like to keep you out of pocket," slipping a small datapad from a concealed pocket, she taps a few symbols on the screen and smiles, "There you go, transferred all legal and proper, she is off your hands and no more concern of yours."<br />
<br />
The old man fumbles in his pocket, retrieving a large bunch of keys he fumbles about to unlock the cage, swinging the door wide he switches to a rough tribal tongue, "Get up girl, get out of my shop, you belong to this lady now, do as she commands"<br />
<br />
Looking up in vague incomprehension at the man, then the woman standing over her, she attempts to reposition her rags, which are doing little to cover her up, "You have any clothing or material she can wear? it is not proper to take her through the streets like this," Evil commands the man. Then switching to a flowing tongue of contrasting sounds, she commands the girl in her own language to get up and be ready to leave for a new home.<br />
"You speak Gallante? whatever use do you have for that?" queries Rigel returning with a rough sheet of material that looks for all the world like it had been mere moments before a sack of potatoes.<br />
Taking a haughty tone, well more haughty than usual, Evil replies, "Does the Lord not command that 'Know thy enemy that thou shall smite them from the world?' It is hard, is it not, to know your enemy when you cannot even speak to them"<br />
<br />
Wrapping the sacking around the Jin-Mei girl, Evil leads her from the shop.<br />
"So what is your name young one?" she whispers as they head back towards the apartment,<br />
The girl looks up, and in a crackled voice "I have no name, I was No 274 in my shipment but I am now yours, I do not know my current name"<br />
"Well child, pick yourself a real name, one you would like to be known by"<br />
After a few moments thought, she look sup again, "Shaharakhh"<br />
A grin spreads across Evils face, "Shaharakhh, daughter of the Matari goddess of fortitude, a somewhat pointed choice of name I feel. Fitting though it is, I feel I should adjust it slightly to make you sound a little less Matari perhaps?" Raising her eyebrows the girl makes no response to the questioning,<br />
<br />
"Mmmh," Continues Evil, "You do know where you are at the moment don't you? This is Kador Prime, you are in the belly of the Empire my little JinMei, so how about we round it of to Shan, Shaneyeah, Shania, that works I think. You know what it means, I know you chose it, and co-incidentally in my own native tongue of Khanid it means Petal, which is a nice name I think."<br />
<br />
"Shania, hmm" the girl tries on the name, and smiles.Evil Incarn8http://www.blogger.com/profile/09200250500245445594noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-174498020569134926.post-61027876179269431912010-06-29T19:04:00.003+01:002010-07-03T02:16:17.309+01:00A Butlers TaleIt is still dark, I cannot remember much of yesterday my mind is still foggy from the drink and the sounds of the festival. I cant quite remember making it home afterwards so that should explain the hard surface I have awoken on, my ears still thrum with the beat of the big drums. It was a good festival seeing in the new year in style, the whole of planet Byorkholm or Vard VII as is officially known would be waking up with a hammering head but sound in the knowledge that this year would be a good one. It was only my second time at the new year festival as only those who have come of age and proudly wear their tattoos are permitted to spend the night thanking the spirit world for a bountiful year and requesting good harvests in the next.<br />
<br />
As my senses gathered I catch sounds of a woman's cry, not of surprise, terror or pain, but a gentle sad sob of someone resigned to the sorrow. I try to peer into the gloom, it is too dark, why is it so dark? even in the middle of the night the stars should show through. No matter I decide to see what the matter is with the woman and attempt to sit up, I am caught short by my wrists which seem to be held in chains. Chains? ohh no what did I do last night? I must be in the cells that would explain the lack of light. I lean back again, and listen into the gloom trying to pick out any voices or a hint to my location.<br />
<br />
I slip into dream, I am back in the thick of the festival swirls of colour, people and the flames of torches blur around me as I spin within the crowds around the many bonfires that blaze into the night. I have my eye on a pretty little thing dancing around a far fire, I have been unable to approach her before and tonight when the energy dies down I may make my move, I will be 18 next year and it is about time I chose a wife. Suddenly there are cries of surprise out to the east, people stop dancing the singing falls to silence and eyes rise into the night. Muffled thumps echo across the plain whilst in the dark sky colourful explosions, fireworks spread the celebrations far up into the air, illuminating the countryside with the colour, the crack and boom of them echo off the valley walls.<br />
<br />
I am aware of the sound of many people around me, I can hear hundreds of people straining to be quiet. This is wrong, even the city cells cannot contain that many people, and certainly not in one room. The thrumming of drums I had heard before turns out to not be within my own head, but surrounds me, I cannot put direction to it. A sudden flash of light, a vast ceiling is revealed, then disappears, then revealed again as the lighting catches. Blinking in the sudden dawn I catch glimpses of my surroundings, I am lay in the middle of a heavily tanned sea of humanity. Muscled Brutors chained down to the floor as far as the eye can see out to high metallic walls. A door high up in the far wall slides open, three figures step out onto the balcony they are clothed head to foot in dark robes. They are too far for me to hear any sound, yet one carries a datapad or clipboard while another pans some device across the room. As suddenly as they enter the leave and the cavern is once more plunged into darkness.<br />
<br />
The sound of fireworks ripple across the sky, the crowd cheering each crack plume of colour, mixing in however is a deep rumble, a star falls from the sky in a streak of orange, then another and another. Screams begin far to the rear of the crowd, I turn in time to see a massive ship, its shields still glowing from the rapid entry into the atmosphere bear down on us and disappear over the lip of the valley followed swiftly after by the crack and whiplash of the punished atmosphere. It starts to rain, large blobs of water splash into the dust, the crowds start to scatter, screaming and running in all directions. The vision of the golden ship only tens of meters above us flashes through my memory. The rain stops as soon as it starts, but it is wrong, the droplets on the ground start to smoke, a mist is forming around my ankles my eyes start to run and so do I.<br />
<br />
The room shudders, an echo of metal on metal rolls through the cavern and the thrumming winds down into silence. Large panels in the wall open many hooded figures are silhouetted against the dim yellow light spilling in. They move slowly but deliberately down the ranks of men, leading them out line at a time, before too long I am approached, my chains disconnected from the floor and remaining connected to the man either side of me, we are led from the cavern into the light.<br />
In a small room we stop, our guides leave and the chamber door closes, a metallic voice sounds out in heavily accented but understandable Matari for us to undress, mere seconds later steam erupts from wall floor and ceiling vents, hot to touch but not to scald the water is laden with the tang of a chemical passenger.<br />
Lead out again, redressed in simple but ill fitting garments I feel as though I am on a production line. We are bustled from one room to the next, barrages of tests follow the cleaning, physical exertions, scans and screenings of many types, culminating in an intelligence test. Knowledge of our own world, others in the Republic and then others I had never heard of, questions on belief, my replies of tribal spirituality receiving the obvious scorn of my unseen examiners.<br />
Finally exhausted and confused I am led into a smaller holding room, with only a few tens of other men, and left in silence.<br />
<br />
The crowd is now in full panic, not knowing the direction of safety people flee in all directions knocking people down in their haste the mist now burning in eyes throat and leaving a bitter taste in the mouth. Some, the weak, old and youngest are already succumbing falling to their knees clutching at their throats struggling for breath as about them the fit race for distance in blind panic. I hear the bark and snarl of some wild dog, the snap and crackle of some unknown origin I am running, barely able to see I come face to face with a wall of armed men. Cloaks billow in the wind revealing blackened body armour beneath, every third man struggles to hold to heel what I can only describe as a beast from the depths of hell, to call it a dog would be to call the mighty rift valley a crack in the ground. One of them points a gun at me, a flash of blue lightning leaps out and wraps itself around my chest, searing pain floods through me and I collapse to the floor, the world goes dark.<br />
<br />
We wait in the room for probably 3 days, I try to talk with some of the other men some of them talk back, others only speak a dialect of basic Matari I have never heard before, they peel off and stay in their own group talking their own gibberish, likewise those I could converse with kept to ourselves. The door slams open suddenly on the third day, the hooded men order us out brandishing short batons that crackle with blue static. Around 200 Matari are assembled into a central hall, hooded guards encircle us and we are sat down, a pair of men, dressed in fine robes walk in, they are not hooded, and the light glinting of their bald polished heads standing at the front they converse quickly and unintelligibly with the hooded guards, nods and quick gestures are exchanged and then a shake of hands. One of the robed men walks out with a guard, the other turns to face the assembled men, "Congratulations, you are now the property of Lord Malakon II," he announces in accented but passable Matari tongue, "I trust you will serve your new Master with the honour and respect due him, consider yourself fortunate as I am told there are far worse fates in this cluster" and with an evil grin he walks out.<br />
<br />
After being transported for what seems days on the hard deck of a cheap battered transport, walking out into the marshaling yard of the station seemed to be one of the hardest things I had had to do, I glimpsed through the great windows of the station a small watery world as we were herded back in smaller groups to the dropships. It had been almost 2 weeks since I had felt the sun on my back, that day seemingly years ago, preparing the fires for the great festival, now I walk across a dusty landing strip, chained to the man before and behind me, in the distance there is a small cluster of low buildings, ahead of us much closer is a large warehouse. The snake of humanity wanders across the plain shuffles into the warehouse and once again sits encircled by guards.<br />
<br />
A side door opens, robed figures enter, followed by a man who, without needing to tell you you know he is in charge, the way the others watch without watching, keep out of his way and nod their heads before addressing him. I hear a Matari a few rows behind me speak to his neighbour, questioning if this is "That Malakim guy", a guard responds instantly, thrusting his baton against the man nearest him, not the culprit, but the discharge from the rod passes along the chain 20 men twitch and cry out as the shock passes through them.<br />
<br />
"Greetings, and welcome to Palas III, I am Lord Malakon the second, this is my installation and you fine young men are here to operate it for me. Now, I am sure you are all eager to get to work but I thought I should come down and see you first, I have need of a few of you who are willing to join my house staff," motioning towards one of his aides, who points out 5 young Matari at the front, 2 men and 3 women, to the guards who unchain and lead them from the room. "Finally one more thing before I stop keeping you from your tasks, today is my daughters birthday the Lord has blessed me with her presance for 14 years now and I have promised her an addition to her personal staff as my gift this year, I hope you all wont mind but I cannot accept volunteers for this role, as she has said she will make the selection personally."<br />
<br />
The side door opens again and led by a robed man a young girl rides in on the back of one of the hellish beasts I had seen back at the capture, gripping the animal by its pink collar she casts her gaze across the room her eyes not coming to rest on a single face, she turns back to Malakon "But Daddy they are all sooo ugly, you promised me you would get nice looking ones" her choice of announcing this clear and sharp across the room, in the same accented Matari as Malakon had spoken spoke volumes about her views on our place in the social rank, she saw us as dirt and wanted us to know it. Switching to what I assume was their native tongue Malakim spoke rapidly to the girl obviously attempting to circumnavigate a tantrum, finally it seems he won, and she turned back towards the waiting masses.<br />
<br />
Guiding her hell beast down an aisle she cast a scathing glance at the nearest folk who tried to shy away, which is difficult to do when you are shackled to two other people trying to shy away in opposite directions. Eventually she nears me, I return her gaze, probably unwisely but as you can imagine I wasn't exactly in the best of moods to be belittled by a 14 year old, she halts by pulling on the beasts collar, points at me and calls to the nearest guard, "I want this one", he marches over sharply and snaps me out of my chains in broken and barely understandable Matari he says "tough break laddie", my hands still bound are attached to a lead and the girl leads me from the room.<br />
<br />
And basically that's how I became head of household for the capsuleer you now know as Miss Incarn8. Of course the first year or so was rough, Mistress was and still is a cruel master but I count myself lucky I avoided the mines. After all, even Reggie, that deamonic hell beast, is a big softie once he gets used to you and its the same with Mistress, a sharp tongue and a wicked sence of humour, but I believe she cares deep down somewhere and for that I will lay my life down for her if she demanded it.<br />
<br />
No 43, signing off.Evil Incarn8http://www.blogger.com/profile/09200250500245445594noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-174498020569134926.post-7724818050377701052010-05-31T00:42:00.000+01:002010-05-31T00:42:20.328+01:00Heros of the Empire<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"><br />
</span></span>I don't normally venture this far into the Amarrian Empire, but as I was here I did what I always do in a new place, hunt down the local bar. Now you may ask, a bar within the Eternal Empire? but yes, they do occur here. Of course they are not the hives of debauchery that you get across the other empires, it is almost a shame to refer to these palaces as bars, but palaces and bars they are, one and the same. I walk in through the entrance way, and am instantly stunned into motionless, the floor appears to pull away from me, deeper and darker than would seem possible, it draws the eye out to the walls where hanging tapestries rich in gold adorned with the vibrantly coloured crests of the local holding families stretch up into what has to be a projection of some kind. Dark purple clouds boil across the ceiling, swirling around the edges of the tapestries, muted lightning flashes across, hidden yet visible, a marvel it has to be said to rival even our own Crystal Boulevard.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">The room was large and made it appear far emptier than it really was, small groups of Amarrians huddle around tables, the murmurs of their conversations float across the hall unintelligible, yet obviously solemn and serious. Considering the cosmopolitan cross section of most empires these days there is a remarkable monocultural vibe hanging in the air, other than a few Civire hanging with some of the groups who, I might add, are looking exceedingly out of place, there was only the Matari bar staff to hint at the fact the universe was not solely an Amarrian place. The Matari themselves did not appear to show any signs of their life of manual labour so I expect they were chosen for this duty from a young age. I initially consider that the Amarrians may have been trying to fool themselves into believing that all slaves serve under these conditions? A quick look at the local clientele would suggest that a large number of the patrons were far enough up the social ladder to be holders of some stature. Either way the Matari do not appear to be conductive to any kind of questioning, and as for asking the Amarrians I have no intention of getting deported quite so early in my trip.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">I move across to the bar, and engage the proprietor in conversation, the old Amarrian is obviously weary of dealing with a foreigner operating alone as he spent a good 5 minutes inspecting my visa documents before allowing me to purchase a drink. Eventually though I start talking with him, I still have a report to file and as in any situation cluster wide, if you want to find something out go and ask a barman, they, for some unknown cosmic reason, know virtually everything. The old mans eyes light up at the question of knowing any stories I could tell the folks back home. He tells me he knows the story of a great warrior pilot, who took on mighty odds and came out victorious. Expecting a tale of some long dead Imperial general, probably back in the days pre-revolution, I give in and trying to feign interest I ask him to recount the tale. The old man grins a toothless grin at me, his eyes wander across the room and he croaks "why don't you ask her yourself", surprised I follow his gaze to a young lady who is lay along a couch at the far end of the room. Obviously guessing my disbelief he added, "You know capsuleers change bodies just as often as you or I change shirts, she may be far older than you can imagine, although I wouldn't mention that to her, heh heh"</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">I gaze across at her and try to see a vicious space warrior, yet all I can see is a petite young Khanid lady perhaps in her early 20s, nothing particularly special about her you may suppose at first glance. She hasn't dressed particularly differently to other ladies I have seen, a simple full length dress mostly an intense satin black with a deep blood red bodice. It has to be said, an unusual colour choice for the bipolar Amarrian dress sense, usually vibrant rich colours or plain to the extreme. She does have a very large slaver hound lying at the foot of the couch, but then this is the Amarrian Empire where slaver hounds are popular pets.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">It would seem I have been staring at her for a little too long, she has clocked me, and is returning my gaze with a sly smile that conveys no warmth whatsoever, her eyes gleam from beneath the unconstrained strands of her long black hair. The barman, unseen beside me half clears his throat "seems she likes you, I wouldn't keep her waiting." It appears I had completely missed whatever signal she had sent, but that the barman had picked up on, and I had been summoned to explain myself.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">The girl kept her reclined position as I approached and sat opposite her, my new closer perspective had revealed one unusual aspect to her attire, peaking from beneath the hem of her dress were not a pair of close fitting heels as I had expected, but a pair of heavy duty combat boots. "Who are you, and what are you doing this far from home stranger?" her question, blunt and delivered quietly yet with a scathing force. I explain my search for stories and the barman's recommendation of asking her about great heroes of the Empire. The last phrase almost elicits a laugh from her, "hero of the Empire" she rolls the phrase around as if trying it on, "No, I don't think so, I may have worked for the Empire, I may even represent it, but I would not consider to wear such a title, I am independent. Yet stories of great battles, yes those I can give you." Her eyes seem to glitter, and a wicked grin creeps across her face.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">She launches straight into a tale before I can begin to question her on anything about herself, and seeing the passion with which she talks, I do not dare interrupt her. "The first I heard of it" she began. "There was a general call to arms, at the time I was attached to a small band of renegades, small time trouble makers really, we based out in Pator right in the heart of the Matari Republic." She explained how a corpmate had become involved in a standoff over a container of ore, facing off against multiple opponents wanting backup before acting. "I raced to get my ship undocked faster, cursing the sluggishness of even the cruiser sized hull, knowing that at any minute something could spark or the whole thing could blow over, either way I would miss it. As I popped into system I was informed it was not over, thanking God for his blessings I kicked my Devoter into warp to the field of battle."</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">Watching her tell her tale, she appears proud, defiant and just about all the arrogant descriptions you can throw at the Amarrians, yet even though she fits them all I cannot seem to dislike her for it. "Arriving at the scene I found the fight yet to have materialised, but I got my first concrete evidence of the enemies strength, 2 cruiser class hulls, the Minmatar Bellicose and far more deadly Gallante Thorax, 2 Minmatar Thrasher class destroyers, 2 Rifter class frigates, and a Gallante Tristan. Quickly assessing their potential, and perhaps wanting to show off a little in front of my corp" her grin reappears again, "but I was younger back then, I like to showoff a lot more nowadays. Anyway, I decided that I was able to handle them, I believe I even mentioned a line involving being able to tank those muppets, whatever a muppet is" She seems totally absorbed in living the memories of this day, the words hastily shuffled into place to keep up with her racing mind.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">"I took the can, and immediately my targeting computer went nuts, klaxons and warnings sounding off as 7 ships locked and began trying to destroy me, the cacophony of autocannons, blasters, missiles of various sizes, mixed with the slow ponderous ping as my systems locked each of the aggressors. 4 pulse laser batteries slowly twist and elevate to position, puring the righteous fury of pure energy across the vacuum of space into the thorax cruiser. Its shielding flickers ripples spread from the point of impact as it struggles to cope with the abuse it is receiving before too long however plumes of gas and flash frozen liquids are venting from numerous gashes burnt into the smooth hull. Its end is spectacular, the reactor core receives a hit, and in a flash the ship is vapourised. The bellicose both thrashers, a rifter and the tristian follow in quick succession, one rifter escapes. The devoter prowls among the wrecks then disappears into warp.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">"What surprised me most was that after the Thorax went down the other ships did not leave, despite the fact the Devoter possesses some of the most powerful and specialised warp disruption technology it can only hold one ship down at a time." She leans back, broken from the spell of memories, twiddling with the long fluted glass she has long since drained of contents, switching to an analysis of the events she continues. "Although I destroyed them without mercy I have to respect them for staying to fight before an enemy that they obviously saw they could not beat. Part of that I learned later was due to a mis-identification of my ship, thinking I was flying a simpler version of the same hull they would have assumed an easy kill."</div></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">She lapses into silence, focuses directly onto me, raising her eyebrow, "So, does that fit your needs?" I assure her that it does, making my excuses I explain that I need to write up her tale and make for the exit. I can feel her eyes boring into my back all the way out.</div></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">I cant explain why, she seemed nice enough to talk to, yet your subconscious keeps tripping the fight or flight reaction an irrational paranoia not to take your eyes of her for fear of being ended in a horrific manor. The casual ease with which she described her many victories, death and destruction, all in a days work, I know combat pilots have to deal with this sort of thing, but she didn't so much as bat an eyelid.</div></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">I pack my bags soon after and move on to a different area of the Empire. Evil Incarn8, she only ever told me her callsign, fitting I feel, I shudder involuntarily despite the warmth of my cabin, the last thing I would want would be to end up in one of her tales.</div></div>Evil Incarn8http://www.blogger.com/profile/09200250500245445594noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-174498020569134926.post-75169274542273785502010-05-22T22:10:00.003+01:002010-05-22T22:14:02.548+01:00Down to Earth (or some Earthlike planet anyway) with a bump.<span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: black;">A flicker of energy ripples across the bubble which forms the visible portion of the wormhole, A sole harbinger class </span><span class="goog-spellcheck-word" style="-webkit-background-clip: initial; -webkit-background-origin: initial; background-attachment: initial; background-image: initial; background-repeat: initial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: black;">battlecruiser</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: black;"> emerges from its depths. Scarred and battered by its last month away from the daily maintenance provided within the station hanger bays the harbinger swings its bulk around and warps away.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: black;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: black;">An inglorious return perhaps, but nonetheless a valuable lesson learned, namely "Evil Incarn8 does not like 0.0 space".</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: black;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: black;">Simple, blasphemous to many I would wager, yet the truth. Although I cannot place my finger on a reason or reasons why exactly I don't get "it", I can't even say I hated every second, the guys and gals I served with out there were great fun to be around. I shall recall a few instances I particularly enjoyed from my time out there before signing off to return to planning my next experiences.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: black;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: black;">On one of my first days out here, Simon decided we should go and meet the neighbours, wave the flag, a little light fraternisation as it were. So 5 of us set out in our </span><span class="goog-spellcheck-word" style="-webkit-background-clip: initial; -webkit-background-origin: initial; background-attachment: initial; background-image: initial; background-repeat: initial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: black;">battlecruisers</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: black;"> to travel the 8 or so jumps to the nearest outpost we had docking access at. It was thrill I give you that, knowing that at any gate there could be a fleet a bubble and instant death, jumping in frantically screaming at the scanner to tell me I was safe and not yet to be blasted into atoms. To tell the truth when we finally arrived uneventfully at the outpost I was drained, the very thought of trying to appear upbeat optimistic and chipper to the locals was beyond me. I perused the local stores in an attempt at a little retail therapy shocked at both the lack of stock and the extortionate prices charged this far from a ready supply base. Not before too long we were called back to our ships for the return journey, another bout of paranoia and nerves were wasted on a quiet trip home. A pointless tale of a simple trip you may say, possibly yes, but for me it was my first fleet/gang manoeuvres in 0.0 sec space. Safe once more within the shimmering gossamer bubble of our floating home, I dropped from my pod crawled to the showers and fell asleep beneath its warming jets.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: black;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: black;">Most of the rest of my time was spent earning the right for our system to be awarded status for improved scanning systems for access to rarer asteroid fields or the more intricately hidden pirate bases. My harbinger proved itself well adept at dispatching the regular pirate patrols throughout the system, even once coming out on top verses one of the Angel Cartels junior officers in a top of the line Battleship.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: black;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: black;">Another highlight was when we expanded into a neighbouring system that had been vacated by a departing alliance, we had to clear out a </span><span class="goog-spellcheck-word" style="-webkit-background-clip: initial; -webkit-background-origin: initial; background-attachment: initial; background-image: initial; background-repeat: initial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: black;">starbase</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: black;"> they had left behind. I was mightily impressed by the scale of the capital class vessels brought to bear, and the speed at which we dispatched the structures.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: black;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: black;">Even though these were good times, I have now said my goodbyes to Simon, the new people I had met within the alliance and Cherie who has seemingly embraced 0.0 with a greater vigour than I could, not to mention she has probably been embracing a lot of the alliance members in less public situations as she is that kind of person. I departed 0.0, returning to my old haunts within the safe envelope of the </span><span class="goog-spellcheck-word" style="-webkit-background-clip: initial; -webkit-background-origin: initial; background-attachment: initial; background-image: initial; background-repeat: initial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: black;">Khanid</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: black;"> Kingdom, I am looking for a new adventure...... say, those wormhole systems were very pretty weren't they?</span>Evil Incarn8http://www.blogger.com/profile/09200250500245445594noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-174498020569134926.post-64119312116703786402010-04-25T00:42:00.000+01:002010-04-25T00:42:23.028+01:00A new lifeI quickly shut down the comn system, canceling the powerup sequence that was awakening my ship, no doubt turning the area around the chief engineer into a no-go-zone for the next few hours. Changing back to more formal attire, I summon my go-between to meet me at the monorail terminal, they say us eggers are all powerful, be that as it may but we wouldn't get anything done without an army of attendants.<br />
<br />
Melissa was my primary contact in Soumi she handled all the details that were beneith my attention, a bright young girl of sound Khanid stock, in the weeks I had based here I had got to know enough of her that I could even reference her by name. She awaited me at the terminal, and fell into step as I entered the compartment.<br />
"I am leaving the area as soon as I have my affairs in order, see that the ships are stored well and the crew dealt with, have the level 4 officers reassigned to Amarr Prime."<br />
Leaving her to sort out the necessary arrangements I hurry back to my apartment, packing away takes less time than I had imagined, I hadn't created as big an imprint on the place as I thought I had. Never-the-less I press onwards to the medi-bay.<br />
<br />
Clone jumping, one of the supposed wonders of the modern era, allowing a capsuleer to exist as a transient concience, flitting between mortal bodies at will. The very concept of it goes against every teaching and moral fibre I posses, however for the well traveled it becomes an evil we live with.<br />
Stripping back down, somedays I am unsure why I bother getting dressed, I recline back into what I can only describe as a casket, plugging myself in I enter the access codes for my body in waiting, many light years away. The command completes, my world goes black.<br />
<br />
The world reappears, blurry and smudged through new eyes.<br />
<br />
First thing on my mind, shopping, what can I say its in my DNA. I head straight from the medi bay out into the vast expanse of warehouses, I have my eye on a nice harbinger, a decent choice for a first dip into the unknown I think.<br />
I go for a basic setup, true to what I know, with one alteration, the Micro-Warp-Drive, a technology I usually have little use for but my contacts say will become invaluable in 0.0.<br />
Setting me back a chunk of my hard earned ISKies there she stood, shiny and new, that new ship smell still floating down her corridors.<br />
I undocked from the station straight into the mid day rush, ships everywhere, quite the shock for a girl from the sticks where 3 ships at a gate is a busy day.<br />
The new harbinger handled itself well, as for the micro-warp-drive I have always believed a ship of this size is not built for speed, it feels wrong somehow, but in another way ohh so good. I buy a few additional modules and spare drones. To be quite honest I was floating not too sure what I needed not wanting to overpack, but terrified of forgetting something. Realising all I am doing is delaying myself, I oversee the final loading procedures, then pod up and ship out.<br />
<br />
I meet up with my fellow travelers a jump or two out of Amarr itself, Cherie in her own harbinger, and Simon hauling quantities of something out in his Bestower.<br />
<br />
I slave my nav computor to Simons and we turn as a one, warping to a point millions of miles from any object revealed on my scanner. A momentry shuddering the very walls quake with the energies pulling me out of warp.<br />
<br />
Returning to normality my instruments show wild energy readings, the very fabric of space is wrong my scanner picks up objects that are similtaniously very far away yet right before me, the camera drones are struggling to focus on a, on a what? it was a bubble but seemingly of nothing. I could see around as well as through it, a wormhole, the product of a shockwave eminating from the destruction of a drone hive and the splintering of a planet, but you all knew that right?<br />
<br />
Our ships dissapeared into it, my world changed, I left the safety of CONCORD space and entered a beautiful new world, a direct link deep into lawless 0.0 space. You may say it was fortunous, you may say the simplicity of the route was fate, I dont believe any of that tosh.<br />
<br />
I allow my ship to be pulled into another warp, and we arrive at what is to be my home for the forseeable future, a small rough collection of structures huddled against the cold reaches of space withing the protective shield of a Gallante control tower. We sit in a high orbit around a small rocky moon, A clear blue oceanic planet hovers in space further away towards the small yellow star, not a spectacular system, but she is beautiful in her own way.<br />
<br />
I have to admit as I retire for the night and head for my shipboard quarters, watching the pulsing of the shield twist the form of the moon though my porthole, its oddly bewitching.<br />
<br />
I wonder what tomorrow will bring.Evil Incarn8http://www.blogger.com/profile/09200250500245445594noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-174498020569134926.post-68428518462583507922010-03-10T00:13:00.000+00:002010-03-10T00:13:28.233+00:00The call...The bustle in the corridors outside stirred me to wakefulness, the rise in traffic passing my small berth usually woke me in a gentler and more pleasing manor than any alarm or wakeup call I had ever tried. Rolling over I stretch and reluctantly emerge from the warm pit I had burrowed into the night before.<br />
<br />
Not long after I was ready to face the day, over-brewed cuppa in hand I wander out onto my balcony overlooking the hanger. Ever since returning to Amarrian territory I had adjusted my attire more befitting a lady of my status, technically being an heiress and all. This morning I had selected an elaborate figure hugging, yet sufficiantly discrete, dress. Fashioned from satin a shade of red so dark you would consider it black it was tailored to a line that invited eyes to wander, yet also warned not to be caught at it. This was all topped off by my headdress that functioned more as a neck brace, once again style and image over function.<br />
<br />
From my balconies vantage point high on the wall of the Emperor Family hanger I cast my gaze over the assembled flotilla of Navy and private, mostly pod equipped, ships. In the distance I can just about pick out the glittery sheen reflecting from the ruby red plating on the prow of my Paladin class Battleship. My pride and joy she had cost me a small fortune, and as with any lady I had treated her to the best I could afford and she repaid me with unquestioning performance.<br />
<br />
A sharp trill broke into my morning routine, a new message, I left it where it was as I was already in motion towards my Fleet contact, apparently there were yet more Blood Raiders detected, sometimes I wonder if there even is a border guard, or perhaps why the Raiders still attempt to operate so deep within the Empire. Although it is of little matter to me, I get some combat and on top I also get paid no matter the reasoning.<br />
<br />
After a short monorail ride down the procession of ships I disembark before my own bay, turning to the ship parked next door I smile again, a little game I like to play with the locals.The previous evening I had intentionally docked next to an Apocaylypse class Battleship, a petty little trick but getting one over on the neighbours always tickles something deep inside me.<br />
<br />
"Walking through the corridors towards your pod deck makes an importaint first impression upon those selected to be your crew", this was a lesson I took to heart and stuck to rigidly. What crew would serve, let alone lay down their short lives for a scruffy wretch? So I always took time to compose myself before arriving onboard. I would be disrobing soon enough to enter my pod, but those few minutes between rising and becoming one with your vessel were as importaint as any tactical manuver.<br />
<br />
Settling into my cabin I carefully remove my headress, setting it onto a stone bust sat in a dark recess of the room, kicking off my flat low heeled shoes I pad back across the room before stripping back down to my pilots jumpsuit. In all the years since I left the acadamy I could have switched to a more stylish or functional suit, however it was only ever the pod techs who saw me in it and they hardly counted, they were strictly seperated from the rest of the crew, a girls gotta keep her decency somehow and if it means denying a few assets the meagre benefits usually enjoyed by shipboard service, so be it.<br />
<br />
Comfortable at last, I curl up in a large chair positioned near the viewport, I fire up the comms link to negotiate my next assignment for the fleet, when the flash of an unread message catches my eye. Acessing it, it is a personal mail message, my heart skips a beat, from Mr Templar, a short message, simple and to the point.<br />
<br />
A route is open, we leave today.<br />
<br />
<br />
.Evil Incarn8http://www.blogger.com/profile/09200250500245445594noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-174498020569134926.post-74224402983239651482010-03-05T23:48:00.000+00:002010-03-05T23:48:29.678+00:00And now for something completely differentWell this was supposed to be college years part deux, however, a) I tire of them and b) my EvE life may be changing completely.<br />
<div><br />
For the purposes of this blog and all future ones concerning current events I have been requested to refrain from naming systems, corps and pilots to protect their innocence (yeah right), but still all names other than my own are fakes.</div><div>---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------</div><div><br />
</div><div>So, I am hanging out in one of my many comn channels, this one happens to be the Amarrian faction channel, I am somewhat of a regular there. Anywho eventually, as happens to the best of us, I was propositioned by a tall Amarrian gentleman, we shall call him Simon Templar. Anyway he offered me a complete change of life, drop everything move out and live in a 0.0 corp.<br />
<br />
Now bit of back history, I have been flying around in EvE after graduating for just under 4 years now and aside from an ill fated corp wormhole expedition I have lived pretty mush solidly in high security space. I am not an avoider of combat, I enjoy highsec wars, I have done can flipping and I have a concise handbook of CONCORD aggression regulations on my bedside table, but, losec? It has never appealed to me, I like choosing when and where I fight, I have always seen passing below 0.5 sec as a shortcut to blobbage insta-death. Yes I run missions, no I dont mine, no I dont scam, yes I do a bit of flippage, I consider myself a highsec Pirate, a mercanary when I want to be an oppertunist.<br />
<br />
So when Simon said "we live in 0.0 security" I dont know why but I couldn't give him the straight no answer I should have done. To be honest I do like the romantic image I have painted of 0.0 in my mind, pioneers, people working together to push towards a common goal. I should probably mention Simon has something of a silver tongue, I kept dancing around the subject expressing my dislike, my lack of experience, my worries of 0.0 and it kept coming back to one point that I coudn't push aside, have I tried it, did I know?<br />
<br />
So I said yes, although he wouldn't promise to go gentle with me, (yes I did ask) he said he would tutor and let me shelter under his wing. To top it all, hes only gone and recruited the only girl in Amarr channel who can out flirt me :), I shall call her Cherie. As soon as a route is scouted and all are set, off we go.<br />
<br />
So I guess I'm off to the big scary 0.0, and from there I shall send my blog in a new and hopefully exciting direction.<br />
<br />
</div>Evil Incarn8http://www.blogger.com/profile/09200250500245445594noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-174498020569134926.post-54809981951523185702010-02-07T21:23:00.000+00:002010-02-07T21:23:33.322+00:00Templar, An Amarrian Fightercraft used by Students.Another short tale from my 3rd Year at Imperial Acadamy Deepari.<br />
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The stars twinkled, I'm not sure why, they said something about it in astronamy class they shouldn't twinkle but something in our mind remained from our evolution planetside that made them twinkle. Occasionally they were occulded by the large bulks of rock slowly tumbling through the void. I could watch this spectacle for days, indeed I would spend hours alone in one of the Acadamies observation rooms just staring into the nothingness. However, now was not the time for it, I dragged my eyes back to the control panel before me, a simple short range scanner, comns equipment and the fire control panel, far simpler than even a frigates controls, it was a Templar, A fightercraft usually used by the Imperial Amarrian carriers, it was a joy to fly, a single pilot could warp around a system, a handful for any frigate in a dogfight, although it could not access the gate travel network and was too small to fit a pod system. These aspects however made it a perfect training craft for new, not as of yet pod capable, pilots.<br />
<br />
In the last few weeks since the survival exam, I had been floating high on my own fortunes, we had begun real flight training, although we still visited the VR decks for larger ship training, the physical feel of being in command of a ship was a rush. On top of this, Markus and I had still been going steady since our little escapade, evading detection from the Abbots and other students, catching brief moments together, shocking ourselves with the outlandish places we would meetup for little more than a moment in each others arms. Even my academic situation had improved, the subjects covered this year had suited me, reduced emphasis on theological guidance, we were assumed to be pure of mind by now, heh heh.<br />
<br />
So here I lay, commanding a wing of 3 Templars, peering into my scanner scope for the first ping registering the immenant arrival of hostiles. A crakle of static preceded the voice of one of my wingmen, "I got a hazy contact coming in hot high on bearing 035", "good spot Markus, Flight, up to speed, bearing 035 high, spread to delta formation" we had somehow managed to wrangle ourselves onto the same flight, a feat helped by the fact that we worked well together.<br />
<br />
A new twinkle appeared in the darkness, slowly, then more rapidly it grew, split into 4, then became a streak of colour, my scanner flashing up its assessments of ship class, expected arnaments, and possible stratagies. Blood Raiders, my very skin crawled at the mention of the name, if the Acadamy's lectures on the subject hadn't been enough the tales I had been told as a child back home, and the very real threat they posed to outlying planets were sufficiant to the task. A destroyer escorted by 3 frigates, it was a larger contingant than we were expecting, but it should be possible.<br />
<br />
"Burners, dont fly at them, keep your angles high, lock and orbit the dessie, it is primary," rolling my templar I doubled back on my previous tack, the 2 other templars in their own weaving paths avoiding the murderous beams of energy flashing across the void. The 3 Blood frigates begin their own charge towards us in an attempt to keep us from closing on the destroyer. Still at range from the flagship, the two squads crossed, twisting in my harness I saw stasis webs reach out, entangling one of the templars in strands of energy stopping it dead in the water, energy neutralisers swiftly followed by the sharp crack of pulse lasers. "Arggh, I'm primary, shields dropping fast" squealed the voice of my second wingman, Kalos, an older Amarrian had excelled in the classroom, but paniced easially in combat, as he was now. "Calm down, your strength is in armour, Markus peel off take care of those frigs, I will take the dessie, catch me if you can."<br />
<br />
Markus flipped his ship end over end, a blast of burners killing off his velocity and sending him back towards the immobile templar, already re-calibrating his systems and taking longrange potshots at the orbiting Bloodships, I rolled again, and continued accelerating into another tack racing against the destroyers tracking system. Entering the destroyers optimal range, I tightened my turns, cutting it closer and closer, the onboard computer blaring danger alarms at me, beams of energy flashing beneith my wings, the odd one striking a shield and prisming off into a miryad of colours, harmlessly absorbed. "Got a fire solution .... lining it up ... boom, scratch one leach" the chirpy voice of Markus goading me with his early success, "I'm dead in the water, my ship has shut down, no cap, shields going, get them off meeee," "Kalos you are fine, Markus is clearing them, stop disrupting the comns, I have almost reached the dessie"<br />
<br />
Clearing thoughts of the battle behind me, I concentrated back on the destroyer, A tough target, if I could get a tight enough orbit I shouldn't have to worry about incoming too much, its just whether I could get enough hits to overcome its defences. Pulling in close enough to see the mottled red, what I hoped was camoflage, I set my pulse lasers to eating away at its shielding. Flashes of pure white reflecting off both hulls, the rippling effect of the energy absorbing into the shield mear centimeters above the armour plating. I feel at times I can see through the narrow viewports, into the bridge of the vessel to see scuttling crewmembers, dressed as barbarians from an ancient time, of course I cannot, the blast screens would have been closed up long ago, relying solely on sensor readings, watching the thin electromagnitic defences thin under my constant fire.<br />
<br />
"Boom, there goes number two" Markus seemed to be getting all the fun this time, "the third is disengaging, headed back up to you Evil, watch your back", "Roger Markus, persue and dispatch at your lesure, Kalos, how are your systems?", "still empty, but recharging, I will be back with you soon", "Roger flight, destroyer recieving armour damage, theres only one way this is going now."<br />
<br />
The once smooth hull of the destroyer now showed deep gashes, glowing ruby red against the cold backdrop, small volcanos of atmosphere or crystals of flash frozen fluids erupt from unprotected compartments. Shimmering greenish clouds of nanite bots flow across the hull, trying ineffectually to keep up with each new barrage of fire raining down, the ship is slowling giving up its grip on life.<br />
<br />
My computer detects a weakening in the armour around one of the engine pods, I quickly focus the next volly onto the area. The thinning plates put up an initial resistance then buckle, unable to standup to the assault thin metal boiling and tears admitting the beams into the interior, atmosphere instantly vaporising and erupting into the void in a jet of plasma, the pod buckles, then bursts open spilling the engines radioactive fire and debris into space. "Shes going down, Markus you got a few seconds if you want in on this one, get your arse moving"<br />
<br />
Almost as soon as I had spoken, the fight changed. I noticed the signals from the destroyer had changed, I was no longer its primary concern, all its turrets lined up, aiming back down towards the other two templars, a flash of deep orange light, 8 seperate beams of energy converged some tens of kilometers behind me, twisting in my seat, I strained to see back over my shoulder.<br />
<br />
The point of light had struck the templar at the base of its port wing stub, and passed straight through, it had been accelerating hard in persuit of the final blood frigate, its transversal to the destroyer dropped to almost zero, the larger vessel had taken advantage of this error. The templar flipped over, the wing stub tore free, folding across the hull and slamming into the engine bays when the second volley struck home, a crackle of static issued through the comns, but no voice broke through as the templar split open, plumes of atmosphere, crystalised fluids and debris flung themselves into the void.<br />
<br />
"Markus is down, I'm in persuit of the frigate", Kalos' voice broke into my thoughts, shook me back to a reality that I didnt want to face. The destroyer finally tore itself apart before me, but I hardly saw it, I had retreated into my own head, safe from, or at least ignoring the facts I didnt want to be true.<br />
<br />
The final frigate warped out when it realised it was alone, Kalos attempted to communicate with me again, then summoned the fleet. I remember little of the next few days I slowly came out of it over the next week, although the pain of loss has never left me.Evil Incarn8http://www.blogger.com/profile/09200250500245445594noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-174498020569134926.post-61957543523493890362010-02-03T01:13:00.001+00:002010-02-03T19:10:51.294+00:00InterludeA short break from the biography now, for another short (it started in my head as short, sorry) and hopefully enjoyable tale.<br />
<br />
This one comes from my 3rd year at Imperial Acadamy Deepari.<br />
<br />
------------------------------------------<br />
<br />
I awoke early, truth be told I had not slept well at all. Today was exam day, a practical demonstration of the techniques taught to us throuought the year in the techniques of survival. An art long rendered all but useless to the pod pilot through FTL communications and the pod itself, however as it is on the Amarrian curriculem, so it is taught without question.<br />
<br />
I approached the group of students nervously gathering around the examiner. Markus was there, we had grown closer over the last 2 years here, naturally our little group had split into couples, not that me an Markus were an item of course, but Prypyet and Jinzu were practically inseperable. As this exam had loomed closer we had planned to try and support each other as best we could, we had heard horrific tales of past years experiences we dismissed many of them as exaggerations designed to intimedate us. The trouble was the nagging feeling that although exaggerated, the nature of the exam didn't exactly make any of them impossible.<br />
<br />
The nature of the exam is one many outsiders may consider barbaric, or at least extreme. The candidates are loaded aboard a transport ship and flown out to an uninhabited planet, where they are ejected in drop-pods capable of only limited control during the decent to the planets surface where the candidates must survive for 4 weeks before being collected. Those who survive, pass.<br />
<br />
The darkness envelops, the warm currents of shock gel flow around my body, yet I am still shivering. The drop-pod has not allowed me any access to nav computers for the last 3 jumps. A short tone emits through my head, the text "prepare for drop" appears to float before my eyes. I do not hear, rather I feel the thump of pods being ejected from the cargo hold, a particularly strong shock jolts me to alertness, that must have been Markus's pod, he had boarded just before me.<br />
<br />
An almighty clunk followed by a screech of retrojets, gravity inverts, I breifly revisit my breakfast, it hadn't been particularly appetizing the first time round, and I float free.<br />
<br />
The nav comp fires up, a large planet, well thats a relief, scare story No 1 busted. Scare story number 2 however was rearing its ugly head, I was already re-entering (technically entering but the terminology is fixed) the atmosphere. I caught a brief glimpse of a thrust jet flare a little off to my port, remembering our plan I started to guide my own pod into an adjacent plummet path.<br />
<br />
The impact wasnt as hard as I had feared, but it was harder than I had hoped, when I came to and my head begin to clear I noticed there was a scrabbling on the outer hull, followed by a more reassuring hammering. I fumbled around inside the pod, found a large recessed lever, cycled the doorway and fell.<br />
<br />
I apparently had managed to land my pod nose down wedged up against a tree, when I had cycled the door Markus who had been hammering at the hull was presented with 112lbs of Khanid along with a gallon or two of warm pod fluid.<br />
<br />
The two of us lay sprawled in a heap on the floor beneith my pod, "Ahh Miss Incarn8, its never just a hello with you is it? always the big entrance", Markus could smirk at me all he liked, he was pleased to see me, I was pleased he had been there to break my second fall of the day.<br />
<br />
Truth be told the planet, or at least the bit of it we could see, wasn't that bad. We had quickly constructed a small shelter, even food hadn't been as big a problem as we had feared. Later that evening as the light faded we retired to our shelter, "Well Markus, I guess this is our first night together ehh" grinning from ear to ear as he turned bright red, I had been winding him up something rotten all day, to the point he had even promised me a little white picket fence.<br />
<br />
And so we continued, life was fairly easy, food plentiful, the company helped the time pass, and I managed to wear down his gentlemanly exterior to the point where he could even get me to turn beet red with a single comment. If the Abbots ever got wind of some of the euphamism and suggestive phrases we got through down there, we would have been assigned corrective theology for an eternity and probably still be damned afterwards.<br />
<br />
Eventually the inevitable happened, at almost the 3 week anniversary of our arrival I awoke one morning finding it difficult to breath, opening my eyes I realise Markus is sprawled across me. Horror floods through me, tempered only by disgust and shame at myself flooding straight back. Do I try to escape make like it hasn't happened, or pretend to be asleep let him decide? Fortunately, I am spared making the descision as he awakens at almost the same instant. Springing across the room from me, we each retreat to opposite corners like scolded cats, grabbing at my clothes I flee the shelter not returning until my stomach demands attention late in the evening.<br />
<br />
He is sat beside a fire, a small pot bubbling away atop it, he places a small amount of whatever was within it into a bowel and places it directly opposite from his seat, not once looking towards me, I mumble a thanks and sit facing away from him.<br />
Fed and thinking properly for once, I turn back to him, "We did didnt we?" I ask so quietly I didnt think he could have heard, "Yeah", comes the equally quiet bearly whispered reply. Silence reigns once more for what seems an eternity, before Markus offers "If you want, it can be as if it never happened, we need never mention it again," I look up from my study of a small pebble, "but we cant can we?, I look at you now and thats all I can think of." He fails to surpress a grin, catches himself and ends our only communication of the day, "You take the shelter, I will sleep out here tonight." I had long ago learned that I never win against his determined chivelrous side, so I take my leave and retire to a fitfull nights sleep.<br />
<br />
Awakening to the early dawn, I shiver away the lonely nights chills, becoming aware of cooking sounds outside I rise quickly, my mind cleansed overnight my decision clear and simple.<br />
I emerge from our shelter, he initially backs away, my soft smile catches him offguard. "You are up to something, arn't you?" he hazards. I continue my approach, "I had a long think last night, I have a way to save us." Reaching him, I look straight up into his face, "When I want something, I get it" and I kissed him, I have never been one for requesting acceptance of my plans, besides I didnt detect much in the way of resistance off him.<br />
<br />
The last 3 days of our incarceration turned out to be some of the happiest of my life since leaving Palas. Waking in the arms of the man who used to be one of my closest friends, turned first official lover. Just how this arrangement will last back up at the Acadamy under the eyes of the Abbots didn't concern us at that time, we just reveled in each others company until the day the dropships arrived to return us to normality.<br />
<br />
I rekon I passed that exam.Evil Incarn8http://www.blogger.com/profile/09200250500245445594noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-174498020569134926.post-21399311894778513342010-01-25T02:31:00.001+00:002010-02-02T20:52:22.415+00:00Biography, College Years Part 1 of 2Ok I know you have all been waiting for this one :), but remember its an Amarrian acadamy so it might not be all that you have been dreaming up.<br />
<br />
-----------------------------------------------<br />
<br />
At the end of last weeks episode I had just arrived at the Imperial Acadamy in Deepari, I found the nearest trash compactor, tossed the hated datapad away and began 4 years of training on my route to becoming the greatest of living beings this side of the Empress and God himself, a pod pilot.<br />
<br />
Now 4 years is a long time, so I hope you dont expect a day by day diary of it all, and at the rate I am publishing these I will never catch up with myself, so its the importaint bits only ok? If you got a problem with that, take it up with my publisher.<br />
<br />
Now, being a Khanid who was, even by my own standards, full of her own self importance, being dropped into a class of Amarrians who all <span style="text-decoration: underline;">k</span><span style="text-decoration: underline;">new</span> they were the center of the universe and the best thing since liquid Vitoc you can imagine there were a number of ego clashes. My Khanid heratige also caused a few if not more clashes with the stricter Amarrians. You see we Khanid may follow the same basic scripture and way of life as the Amarr, however we tend to be a little more liberal and tolerant of some areas. I had, in view of these differences, purchased myself a new edition of the Pax Amarria and was studying it along with a very thorough and helpful book I had been advised to check out of the Acadamies Introductions to Amarrian culture section, it was entitled the "Visitors guide to Amarr, A beginners guide to avoiding Eternal Damnation, (Complete Edition)".<br />
Unlearning habits and rules that I had lived with for 22 years was somewhat more difficult than the basic theory that the Acadamy's tutors were putting us through for the first year. Planetry motion, Thermodynamics and Quantum Effects on Warp Drive Calibration all these subjects became a walk in the Bio-Dome compaired with remembering to bow my head on passing the countless Masters and Abbots whilst wandering the corridors of the Acadamy.<br />
<br />
The other major clashing point I had with the Brothers, who enforced the theological laws, concerned a facet of my persona that I would have conciderable difficulty in changing (unless I was in Gallante regions I have heard), I was female. This wasn't as great a problem as it had been centuaries before, the everpresent reminder of the Empress sorted that out, oh no we females are respected as useful contributions to the world, a Creation of God therefore of equal stature in his eyes to men. Its just that in the tierd old eyes of the tutors of the Acadamy we, or I specifically as they persisted in informing me, were sent here as a trial for them personally.<br />
<br />
I was assigned to a small class of only 30 students, the population of which was to whittle down to only 8 graduates, the result of a mixture of dropouts, transfers, two unfortunate fatalities and an execution. Of this class I was one of 4 Khanids and 3 girls, myself being the only crossover between the two catagories. Initially I took a while to warm to my colleagues, my background hadn't prepared me for regular contact with equals, my father was my superior and was to be obeyed to the nth degree, and the assets were ordered and used as required, I had no middle ground to fall back on.<br />
<br />
Anyway here I can hit fast-forward over most of the first year providing you with outcomes and such, it is becoming a bit more of a record of facts, but thats my writing style, get used to it. The first year consisted of normalising all applicants into a standard level of knowledge, weeding out the innapropriate, either academically, theologically or psycological, and rasing basic theory skills in astronamy, physics and quantum mechanics. The academic studies I could cope with well, father had provided the best education for me that was available. Psycological, well I was stable enough, my independant streak infuriated testers and tutors alike but was identified as not particularly a bad thing in a pilot. However theologically I struggled, my self tutoring was slow going and I would subconciously slip back to my Khanid teachings. I barely passed this sector of assessment. Of our class seven were rejected outright during the first term, one of the two falling at the theological hurdle was a young Khanid I had started to get to know. His enforced departure had earned me my first disiplinary, I had voiced my objections directly at the Abbot, this was a big no-no.<br />
<br />
The second year was more hands on for the remaining 23 students, I was becoming more integrated into the group, and had naturally grouped up with the remaining two Khanid guys, we were having similar culture adjustment problems so it was a natural choice. However that is not to say that I shunned the other students, no, I got on with three of the Amarrians quite well by this time, Markus, Pripyet, and Jinzu the four of us stuck together and they helped me to not only adjust but to get off my own high horse and remind me when to bite my lip around the Masters.<br />
The second year also introduced us to our first taste of commanding a ship, virtual reality simulations, the Acadamy wasn't prepared to allow us, supervised or not, to pilot real ships yet. This wasnt fliying by capsule, this was traditional bridge control, shouted orders, control panels, vid screens, all very exciting.<br />
This was a skill I seemed to excel at, I couldnt understand or explain how I could do it, but I always seemed to be more together and aware of my surroundings than the other students.<br />
<br />
There are the first two years at Imperial Acadamy Deepari, I intend to do another like this, simply chronicaling the general trail of events, and then do seperate stories at a later date on specific events, for ex. my Ground Combat story is one of the lessons from my 4th year.Evil Incarn8http://www.blogger.com/profile/09200250500245445594noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-174498020569134926.post-9560951537041146342010-01-16T21:05:00.000+00:002010-01-16T21:05:55.712+00:00If at first you don't succeed, cheat.<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: auto;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"><br />
</span></span></span><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Space bulged, twisted and finally tore to allow the compact hull of the Retribution class assault frigate to re-enter normal space. Reassembled only mere moments ago by the intra-system jumpgate it was already accelerating hard, targeting systems pushed to the limit as it tried to ensnare the hapless Thrasher, specialised verses frigates sure, but not 1 on 1 with this one.<br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Long scars, some still glowing despite the chill of space were visible along its hull from the previous engagement only seconds ago, and light-years away on the other side of the gate. The destroyer was busy manuvering also, aligning and accelerating up to warp speed in a desperate attempt to get to a station.<br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">"3 ...... 2 ...... 1 .... damn you, someone is sure smiling on you today" the curse echoes through the comn net onboard the Retribution as the Thrasher enters warp evading destruction yet again, "align and follow it, he's not safe yet".<br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">A high pitched whine and deeper throb of the warp drives spooling down signal a return to sublight speeds, immediately the sensors scour the local area, sure enough a familiar signal is detected.<br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">"You're mine now" the thrasher had miscalculated its warp, dropping almost 5km short of the stations weapons free docking zone, although by now it was now almost up to speed and closing the distance rapidly.<br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">"Load conflag, max damage we don't have much time" the order rang out across the gunnery control room. At the observation and tracking station the targeting systems were once again attempting to acquire a lock. The auto loaders respond to commands from the gun-control techs to switch out the longer range crystals from the pulse laser emplacements, slipping the close range ammo into place faster than any other weapon system in the cluster was capable of.<br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">The target lock tone sounded bringing an evil grin to the face of the pilot, "open fire, all weapons".<br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">The oversized capacitor buried deep within the small ship poured energy into the 4 pulse lasers. On rapid fire mode they transferred the electrical power into a stream of charged photons (in a nice green colour) that crossed the gap between the two ships faster than the blink of an eye.<br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">The already depleted shield of the Thrasher gave in on the first salvo, lasers being wickedly effective against the electromagnetic defence, a second salvo followed shortly after burning into the thin armour, whisps of atmosphere venting from unprotected compartments.<br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">The third salvo however was the killer, 2 beams punched straight through one engine pod, nuclear fire spilling into the night, the other two slicing the bow clean off. Well it would have come off cleanly if the ammo cache hadn't been stored there.<br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Debris spinning through space, flash frozen fluids glinting in the sunlight, the hunter still searches, targeting system spots its prey, a small brown sphere still moving determinedly towards the neutral zone. "Ohh no you don't, your ass is mine"<br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">3 .... 2 .... 1 .... "This is the Republic Fleet, engaging in combat within the station docking perimeter is a CONCORD sanctioned offence and will be dealt with harshly." The target lock drops, the hunter watches the prey disappear into the docking bay. After a quick glance at the spoils of the Thrasher wreck, the Retribution also docks.<br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Ectoplasmic fluid drains from the pod, the pilot detaches her spinal implant from the capsule systems, regaining consciousness she removes her mouth piece, wipes the gloop from her face before detaching the remaining lower spinal implants.<br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Stepping from the pod she takes a quick shower before donning a long black and red dress, with traditional Khanid Kingdom headgear.<br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Looking across the hanger as she walks towards the main hub, a tall Brutor is pulled from his capsule by deck hands, although not unconscious he looks to be having difficulty standing. She grins, "I may just get you yet mate."<br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Walking into the bustle of the Matari station is always a relief for me, in any other races station the plebs fall over themselves to assist me with tasks I am perfectly capable of performing for myself. Here however, none of them want to be seen working for an Amarrian, ahh the freedom, yeah I know it's ironic an Amarrian seeking freedom in Matari space, but it's the way I like it.<br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I choose a seat outside a small cafe where I can watch the comings and goings from the docking bay, I catch the attention of a waitress and try to explain to the her how to make a proper cup of tea, then sit and wait for my man to recover.<br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">A few minutes later he emerges, dressed simply "Brutor Warrior" or something like that is the 'in' fashion it seems. I stand and walk over to him, "You seemed to be having a little trouble in there, all ok now?", he regards me with what I suppose was a sneer, he hasn't quite got the hang of it yet, the Matari have nothing to sneer about. "Yeah I'm fine" he replies "just had my ship shot from under me is all, I don't suppose you would know anything about that though would you?" his grin suggests he knows exactly who I am. "Care for a drink" I offer, we sit and chat, he orders some thick black filth with bits floating in it that seems all the rage. We carefully avoid discussing the politics that brought us to war, we are simply two soldiers at truce.<br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">It is later in the evening, we have moved from cafe to bar, a seedy little Matari place where smoke shrouds the lights, my outfit is drawing a few strange glances from those Matari who are a little old fashioned in their outlook on the world. Cid, I discovered his name was, doesn't seem to notice, he orders us a few drinks and gets us a booth. There is a small stage at the far end, I can't quite tell if it's a musical performance or dancing girls, either way they are not getting much attention.<br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">We talk more, getting a little louder, the topics varying faster and with less logic to trace a path through. I offer to get the next round. At the bar I order him another bottle of whatever light beer he had before, I get myself the only brand of Spiced wine available this far out of the Empire. Before returning to our table I extract a small blue vial from my sleeve, tipping a small amount into his drink. I pause, "To hell with it, if I'm going to do this I may as well make it as enjoyable as I can", I extract a second vial, a soft red colour, and tip a few drops in his, then one in my own as well. I signal the barman that I want the spiced wine bottle as well. I walk back through the increasingly busy bar to our table.<br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Delayed action neuro-inhibitors, the little blue vial contained a marvel of the many chemical weapons programmes, non lethal, unless you wanted them to be, they could be tuned to almost any function, and set to become active over quite an accurate time span. The red vial however was a lot more common, at least throughout the Gallante Federation, where it was crudely described as an "industrial strength aphrodisiac"<br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Returning to our table he takes his drink and downs it, before refilling, he leans back in his chair and we carry on as before. Eventually I see the effects begin to kick in, he gets a little closer, his eyes wander and he is less concerned if I notice, he also starts trying to change to more risqué subjects, I play along feeding his growing ego, the alcohol and chemicals surging through him betraying any common sense he may have had before.<br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I'm beginning to think something is wrong when finally he pops the golden question, "I got some classy stuff back at my place, fancy joining me?" I flash him a shy grin, "Good sir, If I didn't know any better I might think you were trying to lead me astray" another smile, this one considerably more dirty, before I pull him from his seat.<br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">We are barely out of the bar when he has his arms around me, he tries to press me against the wall and leans in. I may be small, little over 5'8 but I can more than hold my own. His mind seems to clear a little when I have my hand at his throat, "I am no slut" keeping my voice low, but the menace is unmistakable, "you want me, you take me home, you will get nothing from me in the street".<br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Stepping into his apartment he seems to have calmed down a little, "you want another drink or something?" he seems to have given up, whatever happened to Matari stubbornness? I remove my hard formal collar and headdress, his eyes prick up "maybe not yet" I coo at him, suddenly he is in his element again, upon me in an instant.<br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">[[ Yes I'm deliberately missing a bit out here, No I'm not going to give you details.]]<br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I awaken in an unusual bed, lying on my back pinned in place by the large Brutor, "Eughh, sometimes I wish I did drink, it might make forgetting things like this easier". I wriggle out from under him, the combined sleeping draught and muscle relaxant I had spiked him with last night was in full effect. I pad across the room to the shower, selecting a warm body massage I let the water work its magic on my aching body.<br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Emerging a few minutes later, he is still out of it, I recover my clothes from where they fell across the room last night. Dressing quickly, but with the care and attention due to this action, I survey the room. Simple, but you can see where he has spent his earnings, everything has its place, unusual in a man.<br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I sit at his datapad, "heh, fingerprint scanner, here ya go Cid open this will ya?" I press it against his unresisting hand, access granted it chimes. Intel, beautiful, it shouldn't be this easy, I download it into my implant. Now we finish up.<br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Standing, I pull a small electronic device from my bag, about palm size, it has a single implant connector on one end, and a covered button on the other. "It was nice working with you Mr Cid, but now it's time for you to wake up", I press the device into the implant socket at the base of his skull, flipping the cover up I press the button. His body tenses then spasms once, the EMP device has fried not only his implants, but every synapse in his brain. "Nobody cheats me out of a pod kill Mr Cid, time for you and me to leave, I have a space in my collection reserved for you."<br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Bundling him onto a luggage trolley I take him to the nearest airlock, tucking a small homing beacon into his collar, I step back and cycle it, instant meat popsicle. As easy as it would be to take him direct to my hanger, Having an unfrozen specimen would cause questions, not to mention an unpleasant smell.<br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Returning to the apartment I glance around checking for any details suggesting two people were here. I almost miss the second glass on the table, I toss it down the refuse chute and<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I leave. Taking a short excursion outside to retrieve my prize.<br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I sit again at my place outside the little cafe. Soon enough, it happens..<br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">A large Brutor, bald and still wearing the cheap clonebay jumpsuit is arguing with a docking manager.<br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">"I don't care what your records show, I know I damn well I docked the pod, so why the hell did I just wakeup in the clone bay?<br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">"I'm sorry Sir, our logs show nothing"<br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I lean back and smile to myself, I never miss my mark.<br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">-------------------------------------------------------------------------<br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">If you had ever wondered how you sometimes dock, yet still lose your pod?<br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">A long one, and a little more raunchy than I have done before, I'm not too sure if it fits Evil's way of doing things or clashes too much with her high moral standings, which is why I haven't used her name. It could easily be her though, so watch out.<br />
</div>Evil Incarn8http://www.blogger.com/profile/09200250500245445594noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-174498020569134926.post-84314933933924527912010-01-14T16:31:00.006+00:002010-01-16T01:23:31.485+00:00Part 3, Biography<span style="border-collapse: collapse; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">[[Ok first up, an apology for those expecting Part 3, "The College Years", I sortof got into the travelling a bit deep and well, I want to do college properly and I expect all you lot want all the dirty details (you perverts), so this one is a travel blog. Hey if LOTR can do chapters of walking so can I :)]] </span></span><br />
<span style="border-collapse: collapse; white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br />
<span style="border-collapse: collapse; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">So where was I, ahh yes I had just learned of my, well I hesitate to use the word destiny as that sounds all "sword in the stoney" and similar tosh, but destiny is sortof what I mean.</span></span><br />
<span style="border-collapse: collapse; white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br />
<span style="border-collapse: collapse; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Approaching the desk of the Palas branch of the Interbus, I placed the datapad on the counter and announced that "I want to go there". The lady behind the counter, a Ni-Kunni, who well lets just say she had a face for radio. Looked at me sighed the "its almost the end of a long shift" sigh and picked up the datapad. Returning her gaze to me "payment in ISK?" she exclaimed "Pft, seems somebody has the right connections, a single to Deepari, no return" I am sure she chose to look me deep in the eye on saying "no return" but I was too out of it/crazy/arrogant to care. Taking my ticket and datapad I proceded through into the terminal.</span></span><br />
<span style="border-collapse: collapse; white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br />
<span style="border-collapse: collapse; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">I was standing in the Interstellar Departures lounge of the Palas II Interbus Terminal. With a few minutes to kill I spent awhile browsing the duty(and Sin) free stalls, (well it wouldnt be a Duty free without alcohol and as this is a Khanid Station you have to make allowances, its there purly for visitors on the assumption that any purchases are confiscated by Customs and Exorcision officers upon leaving the store). I bought myself a new Amarrian Edition of the Pax Amarria, (2 additional chapters on Sin, 1 fewer on tolerance of Forigners than the Khanid version I had learned).</span></span><br />
<span style="border-collapse: collapse; white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br />
<span style="border-collapse: collapse; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">My flight was called and I boarded the transport, I wouldnt say full of excitement thats a bit cheesy and you would be expecting that. I would however say full of tierdness, recoving from a caffine hit from that filth I had been given earlier and a little trepidation but that goes without saying really (even tho I realise I have said it but it wouldn't be much of a story if I didn't say stuff would it?) It was my first time not only away from home alone, or even off world, I was leaving my home region everything I knew and understood. One small step for a woman, one giant catchphrase for all time etc etc.</span></span><br />
<span style="border-collapse: collapse; white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br />
<span style="border-collapse: collapse; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">My home for the next week as I traveled to Deepari was to be an old Bestower class hauler, looking for all the world as though it was the original prototype still plodding away hundreds if not thousands of years later. The cargo hold had been cleared out and a few passenger containers installed, not comfortable or spacious but for the 300odd of us making the trip it was sufficiant. We undocked from the station, aligned to the intersystem jumpgate and warped, the world streching around me then twanging back into place as the acceleration finished, my journey was beginning.</span></span><br />
<span style="border-collapse: collapse; white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br />
<span style="border-collapse: collapse; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">I was going to write something about when I first saw a stargate, but other than "wow, it was big" I cant think of much else to put. The captain announced he was about to jump and advised all first time jumpers to remain seated as it could be a little disorientating the first time. This man is also now on my black list, 'A little disorientating'? I passed out and remained unconcious for nearly half an hour. I returned to conciousness under the minstrations of two elderly ladies, I saw elderly its quite hard to tell with the True Amarr, they tend to 'mature' quite early in life. Needless to say I was the subject of some humour for the second time that day. Offering me some sage advice on travel the ladies left me with this one gem, "Some people take it harder than others, gate travel just doesnt seem to agree with you,. Get yourself wherever you are going and find yourself a nice young man with a loose wallet, get yourself set up planetside love, thats my advice." I spent most of the flight in my room, never too sure of how far we had gone or even the time of day.</span></span><br />
<span style="border-collapse: collapse; white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br />
<span style="border-collapse: collapse; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">[[ Approximately 1 week later]]</span></span><br />
<span style="border-collapse: collapse; white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br />
<span style="border-collapse: collapse; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Another captains announcment, "Ladies and Gentlemen welcome to Deepari, we are currently aligning for our final approach to the Imperial Acadamy, final stop all change." Rushing to the porthole (on the starboard side but I'm told that doesn't affect the terminology) I managed to gimpse the retreating stargate as we entered warp, but the sky, ohh my God it was the wrong colour!.</span></span><br />
<span style="border-collapse: collapse; white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br />
<span style="border-collapse: collapse; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">The star and moons flashed past before receeding, then the magnificant golden hull of the station came into view, (enter another "Oh my God its huge" here if you want), upon entering the arrivals terminal the datapad litup, announcing that I was to make for the Acadamy portal, I followed its advice chafeing against the voice of that Bitch from Palas that it continued to speak in no matter how many settings I changed. (I know you are thinking "Bitch from Palas? who?" well the pod pilot of course, just because she set me up on my way to Galactic domination providing the means and direction to get me going doesnt mean I have to like her, she still knocked me over, I dont forget things like that.)</span></span><br />
<span style="border-collapse: collapse; white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br />
<span style="border-collapse: collapse; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Walking through the portal I began my new life, Evil Incarn8(although I hadnt thought this name up yet, I'm still not telling you my real name) College Girl.</span></span><br />
<span style="border-collapse: collapse; white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br />
<span style="border-collapse: collapse; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Read on next time avid, err reader, for the next chapter in the ongoing saga and text based adventures of Evil Incarn8. </span></span><span style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: verdana,arial,helvetica,sans-serif; font-size: 10px; white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span>Evil Incarn8http://www.blogger.com/profile/09200250500245445594noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-174498020569134926.post-79276925500114277162010-01-09T23:08:00.002+00:002010-01-16T01:23:02.937+00:00Evil Incarn8, The Slightly Later Years.<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">The last few blogs I have posted were a bit of fun, snapshots from a later life, or you could say I had thought them up and couldn't wait to post them :)</span> </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;">Anyway this one is a return to a chronological biography, I will probably flit between these and the shorter, "action" scenes dependant on my mood.<br style="font-family: inherit;" /><span style="font-family: inherit;"> </span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">------------------- <br />
</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">The story so far:</span><br style="font-family: inherit;" /><br style="font-family: inherit;" /><span style="font-family: inherit;">I am 22 still living on my fathers mining installation on Palas 3, a lone child, but at the center of a community of thousands.</span><br style="font-family: inherit;" /><br style="font-family: inherit;" /><span style="font-family: inherit;">I say I lived with my father, its not really true, I lived on his land, his installation, but it was my own well I suppose you would call it a datcha or ranch house. I had a small staff of 8 to keep it all nice and to do all the house stuff, (I'm still not too sure what they spent most of the time doing).</span><br style="font-family: inherit;" /><br style="font-family: inherit;" /><span style="font-family: inherit;">I meanwhile did what was expected of the daughter of a major player in the planetry mineral business. I held parties, I went to parties, I visted people and held dinners. For the last 6 years since I became old enough to be considered independent. It was great fun in the beginning, a life of glitz and glamour. 6 years however was just about as much as I could take.</span><br style="font-family: inherit;" /><br style="font-family: inherit;" /><span style="font-family: inherit;">I know all you people who grew up "doing stuff" say you had it hard, pft I say. Socialising with endless streams of people who know everything there is to know about rocks, minerals and geology is far harder. To top it off I'm supposed to become this? I'm supposed to pick one of these droning morons to live with, for the rest of my life? no way, I'm outta here.</span><br style="font-family: inherit;" /><br style="font-family: inherit;" /><span style="font-family: inherit;">So, on this one evening I told my father my intentions, he wasn't pleased initially, but eventually he understood, and told me what I knew he must, if I left I could not return until I was as successfull in whatever I became as I was before I left. The next morning I packed a small bag, (well I had one packed for me) and told No32 to drive me to the terminal, I remember No32 as he was the last of my fathers assets I saw. I think he knew I was leaving and that he would be reassigned to the mine when I was gone.</span><br style="font-family: inherit;" /><br style="font-family: inherit;" /><span style="font-family: inherit;">I boarded the shuttle out to the closest station from the spaceport and left Palas 3 for the last and only time, I had been above the atmosphere before, my father had a very literal sence of "seeing where you came from" and suborbit was the only way to see it all at once.</span><br style="font-family: inherit;" /><br style="font-family: inherit;" /><span style="font-family: inherit;">It was a small shuttlecraft trip, and there was only the 4 passengers aboard, my self and a small delegation of businessmen from the Palas 4 gas mining company, I had dined with them the week before, and chatting again on the short trip reaffirmed my desire to escape.</span><br style="font-family: inherit;" /><br style="font-family: inherit;" /><span style="font-family: inherit;">Arriving at Palas2 Royal Khanid Navy Station was quite a shock to a number of my sences, not least of which was my first encounter with a foreigner. Well I say 'a' foreigner, leaving the docking port I was confronted with a wall of them, mostly Khanids but a fair few True Amarrians and I even spied a Civiere working in a cafe.</span><br style="font-family: inherit;" /><br style="font-family: inherit;" /><span style="font-family: inherit;">My initial plan was to get a simple job, (something I had read that people do when they arn't sleeping), I thought I should be good at it, and people once I told them who I was would let me have whatever I wanted. Fat chance. After walking bemused out of the offices of some accounting firm, my true destimy walked straight into me, knocking me down and not even casting a second glance at me.</span><br style="font-family: inherit;" /><br style="font-family: inherit;" /><span style="font-family: inherit;">As I sat there on the floor glaring into the back of this retreating Khanid woman, I saw the crowds part before her and whispers and glances from the people nearby. A nice young man (a True Amarrian gentleman) roused me from my vision, and told me in not so many words to keep out of the way of capsuleers, he also mentioned that it wasnt best to sit on the floor in a crowded walkway.</span><br style="font-family: inherit;" /><br style="font-family: inherit;" /><span style="font-family: inherit;">Well, after an experiance like that, anyone would have heeded the mans advice and gone about their business. Me? of course not, I was still full of myself, that morning I had been Queen of all I surveyed, now I was nothing, knocked to the floor by some woman.</span><br style="font-family: inherit;" /><span style="font-family: inherit;">I persued her through the crowd, getting what I assmed were warning glances from some people, others tried to keep up, expecting some kind of spectacle, boy did they get it.</span><br style="font-family: inherit;" /><br style="font-family: inherit;" /><span style="font-family: inherit;">Once I caught up to her I took hold of her shoulder an spun her about, bringing myself up to my full hight, not much but appearances are important, I started yelling about watching where she was going, who did she think she was etc etc. her responce? she rolled her eyes and started to turn away.</span><br style="font-family: inherit;" /><span style="font-family: inherit;">Ohh dear, ((here we could use the Kill Bill music where the bride sees each of her killers for the first time)) I grabbed her shoulder again, turning her back around, and rung her one hell of a slap right across her face, the silence that had decended instantly around the hall meant that the echo was audiable to the stunned crowd.</span><br style="font-family: inherit;" /><br style="font-family: inherit;" /><span style="font-family: inherit;">To my, and quite possibly most of the crowds surprise she smiled, then laughed and took me aside to a cafe, waving away the crowds with a simple gesture. Then ordering me what she called a "cawfee" she asked me if I knew anything about capsuleering, obviously I had not so she told a few tales of stars, empires and pretty explosions. She said I had the right attitude to go far, leaving me a datapad with instructions and enough ISK to get to the Imperial Acadamy in Deepari, she stood, looked at me again, half smiled, half laughed again and said "yes, you are definately one to watch, you will go far" then she left.</span><br style="font-family: inherit;" /><br style="font-family: inherit;" /><span style="font-family: inherit;">I finished the horrible bitter nastiiness she had given me, then walked towards the interstellar shuttle port, to go and train at "The Imperial Acadamy" I wasnt just leaving home, the planet, or even the system, I was going to the Amarrian Empire, to train to be a pod pilot.</span><br style="font-family: inherit;" /><br style="font-family: inherit;" /><span style="font-family: inherit;">"Evil Incarn8, Master of the Universe", yes I thought, I can do that.</span><br style="font-family: inherit;" /><br style="font-family: inherit;" /><span style="font-family: inherit;">to be continued.....</span></span>Evil Incarn8http://www.blogger.com/profile/09200250500245445594noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-174498020569134926.post-3777483073270460962010-01-07T23:40:00.003+00:002010-04-25T02:19:05.646+01:00Ground Combat<span style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; border-collapse: collapse; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">A dark sky,</span></span><br />
<span style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; border-collapse: collapse; white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br />
<span style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; border-collapse: collapse; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Cold barren landscape, har</span></span><span style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; border-collapse: collapse; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">d dark rocks</span></span><span style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; border-collapse: collapse; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"> clash against a background of pulverised dust,</span></span><br />
<span style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; border-collapse: collapse; white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br />
<span style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; border-collapse: collapse; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">A glint of reflected light,</span></span><br />
<span style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; border-collapse: collapse; white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br />
<span style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; border-collapse: collapse; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">A body, clad in a lightweight armoured suit lies in a shallow trench, covered in a light coating of the dark dust, </span></span><br />
<span style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; border-collapse: collapse; white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br />
<span style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; border-collapse: collapse; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">A hand twitches, fingers unfurl and then reclench, the facemask begins to demist and the features of a young Khanid girl are revealed.</span></span><br />
<span style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; border-collapse: collapse; white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br />
<span style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; border-collapse: collapse; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Her head is still spinning, she attempts to recollect her thoughts as her suit runs diagnostics on life support and all the other myiriad of functions it provides. </span></span><br />
<span style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; border-collapse: collapse; white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br />
<span style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; border-collapse: collapse; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">She blinks, the suit returns all is well, along with a prompt to get off her ass and start running.</span></span><br />
<span style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; border-collapse: collapse; white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br />
<span style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; border-collapse: collapse; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">"Wait, what?" the fog in her mind clears, that last shell was close, far too close, she rolls onto all fours and crawls deeper into the trench, just in time too, a second salvo of shells lands scattering more dust across the landscape.</span></span><br />
<span style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; border-collapse: collapse; white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br />
<span style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; border-collapse: collapse; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">"Is there anyone out there?" her voice breaks out across the comm net, silence, noone left? or could their transmission equipment be damaged or jammed?.</span></span><br />
<span style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; border-collapse: collapse; white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br />
<span style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; border-collapse: collapse; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">"Ahh well, looks like its down to me again", crouching she creeps up to the lip of the trench, springing up over the lip, well over the lip, an alarm sounds in the suit she curses, "damn it, low grav" eventually she drops back down well beyond the trench and row of low craters beyond that. Settling into a long striding bounce the defenders seem to awaken, short puffs of dust spring up around her ankles on landing, chips of rock pininging off her smooth shin armour. Away from the ground her matt black suit hides her form against the blackness of space, the only evidence of her passing the eclipsing of stars behind her body. Closer to the horizon the setting of the sun blinding her opponents as she scrabbles low over the crests of the shallow craters pockmarking the terrain.</span></span><br />
<span style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; border-collapse: collapse; white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br />
<span style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; border-collapse: collapse; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Arriving at the opposing trench she rises into the air on a final bound, tossing a short fused EMP grenade onto her approximation of where her targets crouched. A short flash, her suit regestering the LADAR echoes and pin pointing the position of the 5 reflecting enemy suits. 2 of them recieving direct hits from the EMP were in shutdown and going through a full system reset, they were as good as out of the battle already. Unholstering her laser pistol, the first shots raining down before she herself landed on the reverse edge of the trench, one figure falls down, venting gass from its neck, two others dive for cover from the as of yet unseen assailant.</span></span><br />
<span style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; border-collapse: collapse; white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br />
<span style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; border-collapse: collapse; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Touchdown. small clouds of dust escape from beneath her feet. Putting a quick shot into both of the prostrate suits stunned by the EMP, "Sorry guys, but you would have done the same for me."</span></span><br />
<span style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; border-collapse: collapse; white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br />
<span style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; border-collapse: collapse; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">One of the figures has misgudged his dive for cover, he lies at her feet, looking up he recieves a blast of invisible laser energy through his visor. "too easy mate, far too easy" a quick snort of derision before she too ducks and dives for the cover of a fixed autogun position, chips of rock spraying into the sky. The second figure has recovered his composure, sporadic bursts from his rifle keep her head down.</span></span><br />
<span style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; border-collapse: collapse; white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br />
<span style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; border-collapse: collapse; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">"16, 20, 24, 28.... reloading, now," leaping into the air, a quick burst of her suits jet "not too much, I'm not allowed to leave this hell hole just yet" summersaulting at apogee, another burst and she is headed for the ground, her victim a perfect shot, one in the leg, one in the chest, "not text book, but it will do", rolling on landing, she stands to inspect her handywork, "Five nil guys, that was to ...."</span></span><br />
<span style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; border-collapse: collapse; white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br />
<span style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; border-collapse: collapse; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">The slug rips through the thin rear armour of her lower back, tearing through internal organs before erupting through her right breast. "eughh " blood splatters across the interior of her visor as she drops to her knees, vital atmosphere (along with fairly inportaint body parts) are venting through the tear in her suit. falling onto her face, she dies.</span></span><br />
<span style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; border-collapse: collapse; white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br />
<span style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; border-collapse: collapse; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">The screen goes dark.</span></span><br />
<span style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; border-collapse: collapse; white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br />
<span style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; border-collapse: collapse; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Rebel Victory. 6 kills to 5</span></span><br />
<span style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; border-collapse: collapse; white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br />
<span style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; border-collapse: collapse; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">The VR machine releases its grasp on her conciousness, clearing the fog from her mind for what seems like the second time in 5 minutes she sits up, the fluid streaming off her body, spitting out her breathing tube and removing the link from her spinal inplants.</span></span><br />
<span style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; border-collapse: collapse; white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br />
<span style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; border-collapse: collapse; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Across the room from her, a young Amarrian sits up and grins at her, she cuts off his comment before he has chance to begin "I dont want to hear it Nick," "You did pretty well there Incarn8, pity you dont check your back so often" "Yeah, yeah if you wernt trying to creep up behind me all the time in the lockeroom you wouldnt be so damn good at it"</span></span><br />
<span style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; border-collapse: collapse; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">An older True Amarrian walks into the VR room, "enough time for reflectons on your performance later, now you are required in your Theology Sessions, Miss Incarn8 you will see the Abbot regarding yesterdays outburst before you retire for supper" "Yes Master" replies the girl, slicking back her long black hair as she steps out of the capsule heading for the showers.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: verdana, arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><span style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; border-collapse: collapse; font-size: 10px; white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></span>Evil Incarn8http://www.blogger.com/profile/09200250500245445594noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-174498020569134926.post-77031463077501159172010-01-06T18:48:00.001+00:002010-01-07T00:28:53.088+00:00Back on Topic, AKA Evil Incarn8 the Early YearsThis was one of the first blogs I posted on my corp website, Not of the RP persuasion I expected quite a horrifc reception, however I was pleasently surprised by the lack of pages of abuse.<br />
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So in line with my congregating everything together I will repost it along with the few others I have written since, here. Be gentle it was the first one I wrote :). It is a general overview of my history up until leaving home to join the Imperial Acadamy.<br />
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<span style="border-collapse: collapse;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Ok I'm Evil Incarn8, you all know that, you all know me, thats why you are here. Although Evil Incarn8 is not my birth name, my parents were not cruel, it is the callsign I chose when I left the Imperial Acadamy, my real name is mine alone to know.<br />
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I was born on my fathers mining colony on the small boring 3rd planet of the Palas system. He owned one of the largest installations on the planet, producing bulk ores for planetside industry, before you ask, yes he is a holder, you have to be to run an operation of the size he does, he is not a cruel man but still you will not be pursuaded.<br />
It was a system I grew up with, it is the normal I was raised to accept, most of them ran the mines of course, but they took on many other roles across the estate, I had my own personal staff of course, by the age of 12 I had 4 Matari exclusively assigned to me. Can you imagine what a 12 year old girl with total command of 4 people, who will hesitate at nothing to complete her orders, gets up to? No, you probably can't, and you wouldn't believe some of the petty, innane things I thought up for them to do.<br />
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As the estate covered such a large area my entire world was contained within its boundaries, me, my father, the assets and various business partners, I considered my childhood lonely but when I now look back on it I realise it was anything but, I was defacto second in command of a community of many thousands.<br />
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By my late teens I was starting to think where my life would lead me, being the daughter of a prominant buisnessman and a proud upstanding Khanid woman, I had 3 options;</span></span><br />
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1) Stay with my father and run the business as my own, this had limited appeal to me, also with my death the business would also die.</span></span><br />
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2) Choose a husband, this was more of a merger than a romance, I was as much an asset to the business as the Matari were, this I was not gong to do, I had seen some of the most likely candidates, If they wernt inbred then they were doing a good impression of it.</span></span><br />
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3) Leave and only return as a success or to accept one of the previous options.</span></span><br />
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I left at the age of 24, I found my way off planet, and to the recruitment center for The Imperial Acadamy, 4 years later I graduated as a Pilot, and thanks to the wonders of the Pod technology I have been 26 ever since.</span></span><br />
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</span>Evil Incarn8http://www.blogger.com/profile/09200250500245445594noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-174498020569134926.post-53174784291494840892010-01-04T21:06:00.002+00:002010-01-07T00:28:42.286+00:00Graduation DayMierisi Ratmoh, that name had floated around the corridors of the Imperial Acadamy Training School since that day 4 years ago when I had walked into the recruitment hall. He was of course the CEO and Archbishop of the largest training school in the Amarrian Empire. Most students only caught a glimpse of him entering or leaving some assembly hall surrounded by a crowd of hooded monks and other figures who, no doubt, were necessary in the running of the acadamy. It was said he even had the ear of the Empress herself, many things were said, some of them possibly had a glimmer of truth to them.<br />
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There was however one fact, one truth, apparent to me at this moment. Mierisi himself stood before me upon a pedestal at the head of the graduation parade, each student approached him, nodded a quick bow and accepted their certificate before passing through the portal to who knew where. Graduates always kept themselves seperate from students, being as they were "official" pod pilots, the elite of the elite.<br />
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I shuffled forwards in the queue, praying to my God and my Empress that I wouldnt trip over the heavy cloak I had borrowed for the occasion, tryng to catch a glimpse through the portal as each new pilot passed on to the next place. Reaching the head of the queue I stepped up, nodding my short bow he looks at me, not just at me, but you know right at me, "Well done Miss Incarn8, your future awaits". I hadn't seen him look anything up, he couldn't possibly know me? could he?. Frozen to the spot it took a slight tilt of his head before I took my Diploma from him and walked to the Portal.<br />
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I step through.<br />
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8 small changing rooms, each with a discrete occupancy indicator. Entering the closest free booth I am presented with a standard immersion suit, stripping off the cloak and the lightweight jumpsuit beneith, I slip into the suit, aligning all the implant connections along my spine, pulling the hood on leaving my face as the only visable skin. I had always felt self-concious wearing these, the skintight material didn't leave much to the imagination. As I stand infront of a a small mirror I notice one small difference to the standard suit that meant I would have proudly worn it before the entire acadamy, a single word printed across my left breast in small golden letters, "Pilot".<br />
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The changing boothes exited directly into the rear of the Acadamy hanger, no crowd, no tutors, no guidance, simply a narrow walkway out into the void. Sat clamped into the docking clamps at the end of the walkway an Impairer class frigate. A small frigate, the smallest currently in service with the Amarrian Navy, but not just that, the tiny hull represented far more than you would expect of such a cheap hull, it was a future of my own choosing, fame, infamy, wealth and possibly if not probably death.<br />
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I walked up to the hull of the ship, scarcely large enough to accomodate a Capsule control system and a basic fusion propulsion system, the golden hull gleaming in the station spotlights, the armour, spotless, straight from the acadamies own manufacturing wing. A ship of my own, a dream realised.<br />
I turn to the squat brown orb sat on the walkway next to the ship, totally alien, the Jovian Wetgrave, the capsule that makes a Pilot into a Pod-Pilot.<br />
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Stepping into the egg that I may well spend the next few months entombed inside. I turn, crouching against the restraint bar I lower myself onto the first of the implant connections in my lower back. I lean back, the suits adaptors ensure the implant connectins snap into place running up my spine like a zip, each one submitting additional parts of my body to numb paralysis. I slip my hands into the hard plastic gauntlets I shall use to transmit commands and that in turn restrain me, I leave the final connector, the big one at the base of my skull, untill last. Instead sending a command into the pods limited interface closing the shell tiny lights burried in the hull provide enough light for me to push my face into the mask, still dark without a connection to the ship. I bite down onlt the breathing tube and the pod slowly fills, drawing the ectoplasm from the stations storage tanks. I feel the fluid fill up my chest, a reassuring and terrifying feeling at the same time, it had taken me many attempts before I could use the acadamies VR training chambers that use a similar system. Finally I press my head back against the resraint, the final connector snaps into place, my body sags, dead to the world.<br />
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Meanwhile; The capsule now filled with both pilot and shock resistant ectoplasm, it is lifted by the docking bay cargo cranes and loaded into the Impairor. The instant the pod is locked into place, the onboard computer powers up the pod.<br />
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I reawaken, I am the ship, I feel its idling reactor, I feel the docking bay grip as if it were on my own arm.<br />
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"Good Morning Evil Incarn8, I am Aura, your ships computer pleased to meet you".<br />
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We undock, and fly out into the future.Evil Incarn8http://www.blogger.com/profile/09200250500245445594noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-174498020569134926.post-26123059362041202322010-01-04T16:55:00.001+00:002010-01-07T00:28:27.179+00:00IntroductionsWell here goes,<br />
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Hi everybody, I am Evil Incarn8; Internet spaceship pilot, Khanid Loyalist and Part-time Pirate in the mmorpg EvE Online.<br />
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I had started writing a few bits about my backhistory and a few short (although some quite tall) tales about my escapades within this galaxy we call New Eden, on my current corporations forum, after much heckling, a few cat calls and some moos (they are a strange lot) I was advised to put this out to a wider audience.<br />
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Just an aside note, this is a blog of the character Evil Incarn8, not of the person behind the computer controlling her.Evil Incarn8http://www.blogger.com/profile/09200250500245445594noreply@blogger.com0