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Did you know:

That the Rogue Jovian General incident years ago sparked Tech 2?

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 1 
 on: 21 Oct 2017, 18:54  
Started by Ioannis_Sepphiros - Last post by Ioannis_Sepphiros
Hey all!

S-IBS is going to roll the coming months with some content that will touch for certain public venues as well. For this, the more of the current worldbuilding goes, I have decided it would be more than great to buy services such as Art design , graphic design, web design, storytelling.

Send me a message either here(Direct message on Backstage) or ingame for those interested. I am willing to pay on ISK and for those who are able to do elaborate efforts, even participate into the investment cycles of the corp. But more details will be unveiled to those interested, so talk to you all via private comms.

 2 
 on: 21 Oct 2017, 13:00  
Started by Korsavius - Last post by Korsavius
Hey there stranger. Here is my sixth entry into the YC 119 Pod and Planet Fiction Contest. A competitor for the Very Short Fiction (750 words or less) sub-category while being entered into the 8,000 Suns category. Grab some hot chocolate and enjoy the read.

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Mikramurka Nights
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///\\\

The icy breath of the midnight skies kissed Rodj’s bare cheeks. His frosty red scarf fluttered behind him as he sped away from the rusty metropolis. Ever the advocate for cheap and practical, he preferred a traditional motorbike as opposed to the excessive hoverbike. The echoes of the motor reverberated throughout the city outskirts. The echoes only intensified as he broke free from the grasp of the tribal metropolis and entered a relatively untouched rugged landscape. The road narrowed, and the mighty evergreens dusted with frost glinted the reflections of city lights behind him. For what seemed like a long drive, it was just him, his bike, and the sleepy Mikramurkan terrain.

His gaze remained focused on the snowy road ahead of him, but every now and then a flicker from the corner of his eye nabbed his attention - if only briefly. Up above, flickers of activated warp drives intertwined with the glittering stars. The panorama was softened because of the city’s light haze, but grew stronger as Rodj cruised further into quiet landscapes. Those flickers made him think of the stars, of what lay beyond the Mikramurka continent. He was a pilot. A good one according to the praise of his peers and instructors. But he didn’t like it. To him, home was here on Mikramurka. And he was content to remain, despite the occasional fancy to return to the stars.

Rodj finally reached the village of his family clan. Viktoft was a cozy village tucked between a winding creek and the hugging embrace of a steadfast mountain. It was a cold night. A layer of fluffy snow covered the sleeping mountain. The mountain also tucked itself in under an additional layer of even fluffier clouds. A perfect snuggle. Rodj stepped off his motorbike and walked along the crunchy snow. Wispy and fluffy clouds shimmered off the pale Matar moonlight. It was ample enough to guide his steps.

The door whisked open to allow the icy breath of the midnight skies to warm up against the crackling fireplace. Some of his family sat huddled against the warmth of the fire. The younglings were mostly distracted by the artificial glows of their handheld consoles, datapads, and other gadgets. As Rodj undressed and hung his winter clothing, a tall and slender family member approached him.

“Were you able to secure it?” The look in his eyes carried with it a somber eagerness.

Rodj rested his palm on the man’s shoulder. “It was difficult, but yes.” A feeling of relief swept over the man’s face. “Where is she?”

“Come”, replied his cousin. The two men walked upstairs. “We didn’t want the younger ones to know about her condition.” They cut around the corridors.

Rodj disguised a tone of shock and anger, “They don’t know anything about it? What about the real origins of our family?”

The cousin shook his head solemnly. They continued walking in silence.

They finally arrived at a lonely room. “It won’t be pretty, I should warn you”, mumbled the cousin. “She’s been convulsing and having seizures.”

“All the more reason to act swiftly.”

The cousin nodded and opened the door. The elderly woman, accompanied by a caretaker, writhed in her bed. The caretaker bathed a cloth in cool liquid. She strung out the excess water and placed it on the elderly woman’s forehead.

“Her fever has been escalating”, she said calmly. For her, this situation was something she’s had far too much experience in dealing with. “Do you have the vitoc?”

Rodj pops open a cannister he’s been carrying, and hands over the sample to the caretaker. She begins loading the serum into an injector. Rodj stepped off to the side and gazed at the dying woman. Without looking to his cousin, he muttered, “how?”

The cousin sighed. “The village elders miscounted our reserves of vitoc. And Shakor’s minions keep bringing in slaves from the Empire without accounting for the fact that some of them are vitoxin-infected.” He crossed his arms and continued his retort, “The black market can only handle so much demand for the stuff...the price increases have been difficult to shoulder for us.”

The caretaker injected the serum into the elderly woman. “She will be alright.”

As Rodj stared at the elderly woman, he couldn’t help but notice the twinkle in her aging eyes. The more he transfixed on it, the stronger his urge grew to return to the stars and hopefully one day change this situation. One day.

 3 
 on: 19 Oct 2017, 13:32  
Started by Korsavius - Last post by Korsavius
Hey all. My 1st entry for the YC 119 Pod and Planet Fiction Contest Humor category. Hope you find it at least mildly amusing, if not outright funny or comical. :D

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///\\\
Slaver Hound Training For Dummies
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///\\\

With a recent rise in slaver hound-related maulings and deaths among less economically blessed regions, the Amarr Civil Service issued the authorization for the release of a manual which offered cutting edge analysis and advice for properly handling a slaver hound. However, true to the stereotypical hubris of many Amarr - and budget cuts - the resulting product was quite literally “dumbed down” and comical to appeal to populations they assumed to be affected by the problem.

The following is an excerpt from the YC119 Slaver Hound Training For Dummies manual.


Chapter I - Acquisition
Finding the one.

To some, love comes at first sight. To others, love comes at first contact between their laser and the face of their adversary. And to others still, love is any relationship seen on holo not approved by the Ministry of Internal Order (we’re not heretics please don’t kill us). But when it comes to selecting the perfect, most loyal, and most fiercest slaver hound...well, that takes some work. Of course, you could always try delegating the task to your enslaved financial accountant, but don’t be surprised when you receive your order only to find a furrier instead. Cute. But not a slaver hound. Off with their heads! Note: we do not condone the murder of your Matari slave stock for wrongly purchasing furriers instead of hounds; try using Vitoc or transcranial microcontrollers as punishment instead (whips work too).

In all seriousness, here is a convenient list of things to consider when selecting the perfect hound:

1. Rabies check.
      - Uh, hello? This one is totes obvi.
2. Complete list of vaccinations.
      - What vaccinations…? Um, well just ask the supplier. Yeah. Do that.
3. Breed.
      - There aren’t many breeds to worry about. However, we recommend avoiding those bred from House Ardishapur associates. They tend to
      be missing a paw or two.
4. Gender
      - This actually doesn’t matter. But as an equal opportunities employer, the Amarr Civil Service is required to inform you that the gender of
      your slaver hound does not affect performance.
5. Size
      - Size matters.
      - The bigger the better. Bigger as in muscular, of course. A fat slaver hound doesn’t quite leap as high in the air you know. Let alone instill
      fear into your slave stock.

And there you have it. Our comprehensive list of factors to take into account when selecting your next slaver hound.

Chapter II - Transportation
Moving the damn thing(s).

We are contractually obligated to advocate and promote use of Imperial shipping services. However, outside contractors work just fine. Just be careful about using non-Empire shipping. You may or may not find that planetary customs rejects your hound delivery due to walnut contamination.

Chapter III - Basic Training
Slaver hound boot camp.

So you picked your perfect hound. You managed to get it delivered to you in one piece. Now what? Well, now it is time to whip it into shape. Hah. Get it? Whip it into shape. Cause you probably own slaves. And you probably whip them. Hahah. I crack myself up sometimes.

Here are some  basic do’s and don’t’s when it comes to basic training for your not-loyal-yet companion:

1. DO note they are actually not loyal to you yet.
      It may or may not try to kill you. Do not fear. This is normal, at first. It takes time to develop a bond. It takes time to develop trust, and
      deep affection. You might be patient and loving, but sometimes that isn’t enough. Sometimes they pretend to love you even though they
      really don’t. Sometimes they’ll just use you for your money. Sometimes you may walk in on them with your best friend. And then next thing
      you know you’re in the middle of a divorce. Half your things are getting taken away. And they just leave you with nothing. Yeah. So be
      patient.
2. DON’T turn your back on your untrained, unbonded slaver hound.
      If you do and happen to see a shadow in the air over you, you can probably stop reading now. You probably won’t have eyes after such an
      incident. Might be missing a few limbs too.
3. DO assert your dominance.
      No not in the special Gallente brothel kind of way. You silly heretic. You can achieve this by biting them on the ear. Or you can not be a filthy
      animal and just crack the whip to get them in line. Maybe wear a skintight leather suit while you’re at it. Yeah...mhm.
4. DON’T leave the hound around your family without proper supervision.
      You are the one who made the decision to acquire one. You must be the one to take proper care of it. Be smart and leave your family out of
      this. Leaving an untrained slaver hound with them may turn ugly. Hide yer kids, hide yer wife.
5. DO your laundry.
      This isn’t actually related to basic training of a slaver hound, but seriously. Do your own damn laundry. You are a grown Holder/Commoner.
      This is the one thing you don’t need your slaves to do. Sheesh.

And so concludes the basic training module of our how-to guide. Taking these easy steps will ensure that your newly acquired slaver hound is perfectly on track to becoming a loyal and mighty beast.

The manual was only in circulation for a mere two weeks before being pulled from distribution. The author(s) behind the manual were rumored to be fired from the Amarr Civil Service, and ACS supposedly coerced the Amarr Certified News network not to leak word about the whole debacle. Meanwhile, black market copies of the manual have been fetching high prices in both Syndicate and Federation space.

 4 
 on: 19 Oct 2017, 10:58  
Started by Miyoshi Akachi - Last post by Miyoshi Akachi
Hello everyone.
I always try to push the boundiaris, to write of something out of the usual, I tried again. People would have never runned years ago just for fun like we do now, the same I think it applies in a environment where technology is so developed like New Eden. Who said the pleasure of biking is to be lost?

This is my third entry for the YC 119 Pod and Planet Fiction Contest in the A Day in the Life category.

Hope you enjoy!




Image found on Pexels.com

Biking in the wilderness


"The sight is beautiful, don't you think?"

"Mmmm!" Miyoshi snorted, letting the backpack fall to the ground "I still have to understand why I had agreed coming with you!"

"Ohhh stop complaining!" the other girl, blue green hairs spiky coming from below the helmet, laughed "You're enjoying it as much as I do!"

Miyoshi snorted again, her eyes taking in the sight. It was beautiful: the mountains, shining under the sun. The snow remained only on the highest peaks while below the green was growing strong. Still!

"For me..." Syn giggled, resting her chin on her lover's shoulder, hugging her from behind. "Mmmmpf!" Miyoshi shook her head but a smile crept on her lips. She would do everything for her. Otherwise she wouldn't have agreed on that trip in the wilds, with Syn and no one else.

She had made sure there were eyes on them, at least remotely. For the rest, they were on their own. Bikes and backpacks. Thankfully the modern technology made everything simpler, smaller and lighter. Miyoshi really couldn't think how what they were doing could be done ages ago.

Synani had that idea of going out in the wild for a few days when the main season on the snow had ended. At first Miyo had been sceptical but her lover knew how to convince her in the long term. And she had won.

And as she had expected, Syn had everything planned. Their path, their stops, even their gear. She had wanted to say no, just to show Syn she wasn't that predictable but in the end, she just couldn't destroy the thing she had worked so much to bring to life.

So here they were, cycling on to the mountains, panting and sweating under the sun that warmed their skins while the breeze chilled them. Dirt running below their tires, grass and leaves watching their passage.

She took a long sip from her canteen as her eyes swiped the horizon; she had to admit the sights were beautiful. She worried she should be up in space, they might need her, but as Mr. Wryn had reassured her, if they really needed her, a ship would come picking her up since her implants kept broadcasting her position.

While in space it was her mind and her body was just floating in her pod, here it was her body working, pumping, sweating. It was freedom, different, opposite, to the one she felt when flying in space, but nonetheless freedom, as a human and not as an immortal. She felt aching in the nights but at the same time she felt good. Her mind purged and free in a momentary absence of worries and thoughts. But maybe, it was just Syn’s presence making everything lighter.

The sun was close to midday by now, its light was reflecting on the snow-capped peaks, making the green look even greener. That was the third day of their little trip and their path brought them higher over the forests.

She smiled, the breeze ruffling her hairs while she took a few pics of the beautiful sights.

"Come on Miyo." Syn called after checking her wrist chrono, they had a rough schedule to follow. "Mmm! One more moment!" Even if Miyoshi kept complaining, the schedule Syn had created gave them plenty of time to rest and bike with relax. They weren't in a rush.

The time to eat something, one of that little energetic bars and back on track they were, pedalling, wheels screeching on the rocky ground.

Hands tight on the handlebars, legs pumping as they made their way forward. The bikes were the latest technologies; even if these days everyone preferred hover technology, a niche still liked the old wheel system in which the most modern materials made their way in. Their bikes were reliable and sturdy while weighing little compared to their sizes.


She lived in the sky, she saw the beauty of their cluster from inside it, the dark lit by countless stars. Nonetheless, Miyoshi couldn't but stare at the sky above her. With just a little blade of moon, the stars could shine undisturbed. It had amazed her in a time it felt ages ago, it still did.

They had reached their rest point for the day and they had put up their little camp. The tent, a little fireplace, in front of a calm and crystalline water lake. They were surrounded my trees, their leafy branches moving in the colder breeze while many little insects and animals made their ways around.

She leaned against Syn "I hate admitting it... but it's beautiful." she smiled, eyes lost in the beauty of the deep dark blue sky dotted in shining spots. The same sky reflecting in the lake below. Up above there, Indigo and the other stations floated in close orbit with the planet.

Was everything okay, up there? Her trail of thoughts got interrupted by Syn's tight hug "I told you!" she giggled, pecking a little kiss on the other’s lips. A kiss that got answered a bit more longer.

"Hey, I still can opt out anytime!" Miyo retorted with a grin "Would you?" asked Syn with that sad look that always made Miyo feel sad too "Would you really leave me out there alone?" her eyes had that puppy-like light in them that made Miyo’s heart simply melt.

"You would be more than capable to go back by yourself." the capsuleer dismissed her words with a smile, Syn was indeed capable of doing so: even without implants and clones, she was a trained athlete in her best shape. Still, seeing the silence of her companion, a silence feeling of hurt, she pulled her close in another hug "You know I wouldn't." she said softly inhaling the scent she had grown so used to "I know!" Syn smirked wide. "Brat!" exclaimed Miyo pushing her away.

The calm of the night was rippled by their soft laughter as they playfully wrestled, a thing they often did, a way to release some tension, to just be playful.

"Time to sleep, right?" in the end Miyo asked. "Yeah, we still have quite the road ahead." Outwardly Miyo groaned, gaining an elbow in her ribs “Hey!” she pouted, trying to look hurt “I’m not as fit as you! I’m good at having a motor pushing me around!”

Syn laughed “You’re just a lazy capsuleer! Exercise is good even if you are an 'immortal' !” she smirked giving a playful shove. “My favourite lazy girl…”  she purred softly, kissing her goodnight. Miyo’s arms hold Syn close as she kissed goodnight back, always a better night with her around.

Another night in the wild for them, with just the comforting warm of the other and a thin layer of plastic shielding them from the outside.

Tomorrow, another day.

- - - < > - - -


Thank you for reading!


 5 
 on: 18 Oct 2017, 03:14  
Started by Korsavius - Last post by Korsavius
Hi friends. Here is my 4th entry for the YC 119 Pod and Planet Fiction Contest. This is a competitor for the Very Short Fiction (750 words or less) category, in addition to being an entry in the A Day In The Life category. Enjoy this intimate look into my main character.

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///\\\
The Little Things
\\\///
///\\\

It is the way he walks,
The way he talks,
His voice - so lovely and soft,
Firm hugs, firm affection,
Oh.
Sweet eyes, gentle laugh,
On top of that, a sultry smile,
All these things and so much more,
The little things.

I want more.


{}-{}-{}

I never really have much time to myself. A small consequence of being a corporate Caldari man. Oh and being a capsuleer doesn’t help much either. They know these things, of course. Which is why they have various augmentations and drugs to help push capsuleers to inhuman limits. The corporate sponsors like to convince you that these things come with no drawbacks. My sponsor was a good friend of mine, however; he informed me of the truth. A truth that I accepted because it was my duty to aspire and be more.

That doesn’t make these busy days any easier. It doesn’t make the back-to-back-to-back-to-back shareholder meetings any easier. It doesn’t mean frequent patrols or combat engagements don’t wear you out. It isn’t to say that trying to uphold the values of the society you love so dearly comes with any ease with all that power and influence. All those things and more remain difficult.

But fortunately some things do get easier with time. Watching the remains of body parts drift among the wreckage of the starship you just eviscerated becomes easier. Signing off on condolence letters and life insurance cashouts to the families of your own crewmen becomes easier. It does mean that a shady partnership with an unscrupulous individual with a common enemy becomes secondhand nature. It is to say that, because of your relative immortality, undocking to engage an unfavorable encounter becomes an afterthought - the loss of your crew just becomes an insignificant financial burden. All these things and more become easy.

But what of personal and spiritual satisfaction? I thought these things would blossom with time - with being a capsuleer. They didn’t.

The things I hold close - my friends, my corporation, my nation - these things brought some level of satisfaction. But between all the outings, the corporate banquets and festivals, the national prestige and accolades, I still felt the missing presence of something. What this something was, I could not figure out. Probing into this did not turn up fruitful results. I could not find this elusive sense of fulfillment - of satisfaction.

It ended up finding me.

{}-{}-{}

I woke up to him nuzzling against my breast. Warm, bare skin to warm, bare skin. Chiseled features against chiseled features, and between them an infinite ricochet of tenderness.

“Good morning, Mateo.” I caressed his silky brunette hair.

“Morning, Korbear”, he smiled. I sighed with playful irritation. Not my favorite nickname, but certainly not the worst.

“What shall we do today?”

“Mmm”, he traced the crevices of my musculature. “How about we get up and eat some of the breakfast I cooked for us while you were sleeping? Then maybe we can take a stroll among the cherryblossoms. A picnic is there waiting for us.”

“Huh? You arranged for all of that?”

“Of course!” He looked up to me. “We don’t get a lot of time together. I wanted to make this once-in-a-blue-moon day off worth it.” He leaned in for a kiss. “Shall we begin?”

I looked out beyond our window. The morning sunlight glinted off the glassy skyscrapers of the city. The steady heat of fulfillment - of satisfaction - manifested within me.

{}-{}-{}

It is the way he walks,
The way he talks,
His voice - so lovely and soft,
Firm hugs, firm affection,
Oh.
Sweet eyes, gentle laugh,
On top of that, a sultry smile,
All these things and so much more,
The little things.

I have it all.


 6 
 on: 18 Oct 2017, 02:08  
Started by Miyoshi Akachi - Last post by Miyoshi Akachi
Gravskiing sounds like a fun sport...one that i would probably suck at but at least I can read about the triumphs of others lol
It is! And I'm sure you could do good! ^^

 7 
 on: 17 Oct 2017, 17:17  
Started by Korsavius - Last post by Korsavius
Hey all. This is my 3rd entry for the YC 119 Pod and Planet Fiction Contest. Comments/critique/etc welcomed, as always. Hope you enjoy the read!

Oh and as a side note, this story is actually a sequel to one of my previous works which was submitted for the YC 118 Amore Tank Your Heart Contest. You may find that story here, although this work is capable of standing alone without the reading the prior work. :)


image source


Mariposa

~-> | <-~

A feeling of melancholy clung to him like a suckling on its mother’s breast. He shook his head at the datapad which displayed a headline, “Horrific Mass Murder Throws Eggheron VII Colony In Mourning.” Mourning? He guffawed with pretentious exaggeration. They should be thankful I made them beautiful - all twenty-three of those once-ugly immigrant carcasses. He pouted to the wind. Clearly the maestro-artist’s newfound art style was unappreciated with the locale. Maybe with time, perhaps...or another grand canvas; maybe he will paint something breathtaking. He shook his head. Colorful and pretty thoughts in his mind came to a stop. Too much thinking. He released a sigh, and peered over at the swaying thistles beside him.

The pretty little flowers had an exotic look to them. Dahak Hinj enjoyed their aggressive, yet beautiful stature. In many ways they reminded him of his new method of painting. Seemingly harsh on the surface, but the byproduct of those handcrafted bullets was nothing short of exquisite beauty. His custom rifle was the ultimate brush. And he, the ultimate artist. Oh, all the beautiful canvases he could paint on. How exciting the possibilities of beautifying more immigrant pests! His thin lips quivered with excitement, as a rush of ecstasy creeped into his heart. He sighed again. Focus. The rush slowly faded.

He leaped off the tree he leaned against and hopped onto his hovercar. A carefully cherry-picked selection of classical music saturated his ears. A sense of relief. As he drove home to his estate to collect some forgotten belongings, he couldn’t help but reminisce how peaceful things seemed to be before the influx of hopeful immigrants to the backwater colony on Eggheron VII. He loved Eggheron VII. And the thought of undeserving second, no, third-class citizens uprooting the fiercely independent and solitary nature of the colony abhorred him. They came in waves over the years. The others grew accustomed to them, but he did not. He could not. They were like festering parasites sucking away his precious livelihood. For him, the final straw was when they took from him his most precious and cherished hobby - painting. Their new and alternative styles took the local art connoisseurs by storm, leaving his perfect artwork without admiration or attention. He eventually lost his ability to paint due to degrading mental health because of that. He gained, however, a new style of artwork. One much more grim. One much more new and alternative. And although the public response wasn’t quite what he had hoped for, he certainly took the world by storm.

Hinj finally arrived at his abandoned estate. Despite all his meticulous planning in the months leading up to the Madeilla Park Massacre, he had carelessly forgot to pack up a prized possession of his - an antique brooch modeled after a butterfly. It was an old family heirloom. He remembered attending formal parties as a child, and at every one his mother used the same ornate brooch to fasten together her dress. The crafted butterfly brooch inspired his fascination with the little insects. It spawned his adoration for them, and his desire to paint them in a plethora of hues, shapes, and patterns. And in his elation to slay those foreign parasites in a grand work of art, he forgot to pack up the beloved brooch.

At this point, his estate had only been abandoned for a mere two weeks. He hid out in his lonely bunker far away from civilization like a recluse predator retreating to its den after a prized kill. He monitored the security systems of his estate from his bunker, and it seemed his identity as the shooter remained unknown or else he surely would have got a visit from the local police. The place was essentially just as he left it. A few more weeds, perhaps, but still the tall green grass swayed peacefully to and fro at the helm of the spring breeze.

He nearly flipped his home upside down looking frantically for the prized family heirloom. Where the hell is it? He checked the multiple safes located in different corners of the main estate. The brooch was nowhere to be found. A feeling of dread mounted within him. Suddenly, it dawned on him where he left it last. He had installed the most zealous security features on his estate in his personal art studio building. It was in there that the prized possession had to be, there was no other option. As he exited his former home and looked toward the studio, that mounting feeling of dread intensified. He knew his brooch was in there, but he also knew so too were the shattered memories of his former life as a grand artist.

As he drew closer to the studio with each cautious step, his heart felt as if it would scurry out of his chest. The feeling was akin to a rejected artist being forced to walk back on stage after running off with tears swelling in their eyes from the ridicule of the audience. Once he reached the entrance, he began the elaborate process of disarming the security software. When ready, the entrance door creaked open as Hinj reluctantly swung it wide. The inside was dark, lit only by an ethereal ray of sunlight which bursted through a stained-glass window high near the ceiling. This perfect God ray struck an imperfect scene - the remains of a shattered easel and fallen canvas which Hinj had knocked down in rage months before. The fallen duet laid there as he had left them. Silent. Graceful. Beautiful. But not his. Not anymore. The image brought him to his knees. He laid there beside the canvas and easel sobbing hopelessly.

Inside his head, the tendrils of paranoia reaffirmed their grasp. The fury rekindled in his grim artist’s heart. They took away his talent. He will return the favor in kind.

Hinj snapped back up from his fetal position. He retrieved the brooch from the safe where he had hid it, and promptly exited the studio. His collection of beautiful butterfly artwork watched him exit without him even paying them any attention. I will make them all beautiful butterflies, one bullet at a time. Hinj sped off towards his remote bunker far away from civilization, and planned his next great canvas.

~-> | <-~

The mid-summer gusts of wind carried warmth and life throughout the colony on Eggheron VII. That particular day was the summer solstice, a day accompanied by festivals and celebrations of all sorts from the local inhabitants. Hundreds, even thousands, flocked to the beaches, lakes, parks, and recreation centers to partake in the festivities and summertime revelry. A perfect day to bask in the sun. A perfect day to tan on the beach. A perfect day to sing campfire melodies along the lakeshore. A perfect day to conjure up a grand canvas the likes of which no one has seen before.

Hinj’s canvas? La Colouré Beach, a popular destination among the immigrants. Thousands of people assembled on the near-white sand looked and crawled like little ants from the vantage point Hinj had set up in - a quiet cliffside adjacent to the beach. So many savage cretins clumped together in a single area. He calculated a minimal beautification toll of fifty people. But he liked to set his sights high. Let’s aim for one-hundred.

He slipped on his black eel skin mask with soft fabric lining in the insides. He couldn’t just wear a ski mask, after all. He had better taste than that. As a customary ritual, he took in a deep whiff of his handcrafted bullets. The gunpowder was infused with various floral aromas. And as always, to him, the smell was intoxicating. Dulcet clicks trickled into his covered up ears as he assembled the custom rifle. He hummed to the tune of an unknown score as he set up his artist’s station. With the rifle loaded and mounted on the bipod, he was ready to begin his work. He crouched down and peered through the scope to scan for his first masterpiece of the day. Ooph! How could he forget? He slipped out a small audio device, and played his favorite symphony. The classical music sent waves of exhilaration surging through Hinj’s veins. His muscles swelled with elation. His heartbeat jittered with enthusiasm. His pupils dilated with passion. Alone, on that clifftop, the maestro-artist and his beloved brush. This massacre was to be his greatest canvas yet.

Hinj returned his gaze through the scope. A sunbathing Brutor beach babe? Too drab. A flexing Sebiestor hunk? Too much of a tool. Perhaps a cluster of teenagers laughing and secretly passing around a handle of liquor? Pfft, I’d rather savor the look of terror on their blighted faces as they realize what is happening around them. Scanning for a perfect target was exhausting. The first stroke on his grand canvas had to be just right. Finally, he focused in on it. She was a sandy-colored figure with braided ebony locks. The sun kissed her sunscreen-smothered skin, granting her a primrose shimmer. She was walking alone along the damp shoreline. Everyone took glances of her as she passed by. She is the one. Hinj, mesmerized by the possibilities of this brilliant first stroke on his canvas, accidentally dampened his mask with slight drooling. He wanted to relish every moment of this. He drew a deep breath. He exhaled. The symphony played louder. He inched the trigger backward.

A sudden shock ushered a screech of pain from the masked maestro-artist. He writhed and flipped around only to find an armored assailant deliver one more shock before he passed out.

~-> | <-~

He woke up in a pitch-black room. Disoriented, he was able to feel himself handcuffed with his arms behind a cold, steel chair. Each foot was bound to a leg of the chair. His mask was gone. The room was cold. And empty. Before he had time to process further what had happened, the presence of something else in the room alerted him.

A figure materialized. About two meters opposite of him, an array of crescents which amalgamated into the vague shape of a falcon with outstretched wings glimmered a ghostly pale silver hue. Hinj looked up toward this figure.

“Who are you?”

“I am many things”, replied the solemn spirit. “I did not bring you here to have a discussion about me, alas. We are here to talk about you.

“Okay”, hesitated Hinj. “What do you want to know…?”

“Are your services for hire?”

Dumbfounded, Hinj stuttered, “W-what?”

The ghost expired a chilly sigh. “You know it took me quite some time to track you down. When I heard about the massacre at Madeilla Park, I couldn’t really believe it at first.” The ghost began pacing back and forth as it spoke. “I figured that it was just some rogue clone soldier going on a rampage, at first. Looking more into it, I could discern this was no act of a clone soldier. Which, if I may add, was quite remarkable considering the scale and precision of the crime.”

Hinj, never one to falter on a compliment, replied, “Well, they may have just been lucky shots. It does take a special someone to carry out something like that, as you say.” The ghost did not seem to take kindly to Hinj’s veiled arrogance.

“You may have been able to fool and outrun the GPD, but you cannot play me the same”, hissed the ghost. Silence ensued.

“I can turn you over to the Federal authorities right now, if you want me to. I’m sure you know what the Federation does to people like you.”

Hinj scoffed at the notion, knowing clearly who the ghost was referring to. “Anvent Eturrer was a one-time deal. The Federation would never do something like that again - especially to someone the likes of me.”

“Oh is that so?”, questioned the ghost. “I think you underestimate the mental fortitude of your own people. I’ve always viewed many of the Federal scum living in Solitude to be monsters in their own right.” The ghost turned away from Hinj, it peered out somewhere toward the darkness as it spoke softly. “And I’ve found that monsters are often most brutal towards other monsters.”

The ghost returned its icy stare back toward Hinj. “I need your help”, it said flatly. “So you can return in shackles to the Federation to face your crimes, or you can help me with your...talents.”

Hinj’s ears perked up at the sound of the last word muttered by the ghost. For him, the decision was an easy one. There was only one feasible option. “How can I help?”

Hinj’s vision couldn’t penetrate through the void-like darkness, but the ghost’s lips curled a grin of satisfaction at that moment.

~-> | <-~

An ocean of green meadows stretched out almost to the horizon. The ocean of meadow clashed against a steadfast shoreline of dark evergreens. Beyond this forest, rolling purple mountains stood watch. The recognizable muddy colors of Guristas meddled with the peaceful ambience. A convoy of trucks parked within the outpost gates. A chain-linked fence? How ungraceful. Hinj witnessed the scene a distance away, perched atop a gentle rolling hill and surrounded by evergreens.

“Get to work Butterfly”, muttered the ghost through Hinj’s headset. “Your canvas awaits.”

“You can’t rush perfection”, Hinj stammered. “I will inform you when the job is done.”

He slipped on his black eel skin mask with soft fabric lining in the insides. He couldn’t just wear a ski mask, after all. He had better taste than that. As a customary ritual, he took in a deep whiff of his handcrafted bullets. The gunpowder was infused with various floral aromas. And as always, to him, the smell was intoxicating. Dulcet clicks trickled into his covered up ears as he assembled the custom rifle. He hummed to the tune of an unknown score as he set up his artist’s station. With the rifle loaded and mounted on the bipod, he was ready to begin his work. He crouched down and peered through the scope to scan for his first masterpiece of the day. He slipped out a small audio device, and played his favorite symphony. He did not forget to do so this time. The classical music sent waves of exhilaration surging through Hinj’s veins. His muscles swelled with elation. His heartbeat jittered with enthusiasm. His pupils dilated with passion. Alone, on that lookout, the maestro-artist and his beloved brush. This massacre was to be his greatest canvas yet.

Hinj peered through the scope to select his first target. No discrimination here. They were to all have their place within his grand canvas. Each of them was important to him. As he pulled the trigger in quick succession, the fresh pine scent of the mighty evergreens stood aside to bask in the fresher aroma of gunpowder and flower petals as it saturated the airspace around Hinj.

He exhaled softly. The barrel of his rifle was still warm from the flurry of shots stemming from the maestro-artist’s scented palette. He stood on one knee to observe the finished masterpiece through his binoculars. Wretched and mangled corpses, twisted and contorted into all sorts of unnatural positions littered the Guristas base. A warm red meshed with the natural green of the grassy meadows surrounding the outpost. A beautiful sight.

“Are you getting the visual feed?”

“Yes. Well done, Butterfly. I think we have struck a good partnership.”

Hinj began packing up his equipment. He chuckled, “I agree wholeheartedly. But you know I have still yet to hear you say your name? I think it is only fair I should address you as an equal partner…”

The ghost replied, “You can call me Korbin.”

 8 
 on: 17 Oct 2017, 13:23  
Started by Miyoshi Akachi - Last post by Miyoshi Akachi
Hello everyone, here is my second entry for the YC 119 Pod and Planet Fiction Contest in the A Day in the Life category.
Hope you enjoy!



Image found on Pexels.com

Looming Shadows


"I'm sending you out." the words came out cold, as a statement and without appeal. She had thought about it but in the end, it was the only course of action she thought safe enough.

The blue-green haired woman laying close jumped up with a bit of wide eyes "What?!" there was something wrong in the way it was said, such coldness.

"You heard it, hon, better if you pack your things and get ready, the shuttle will be here soon." the capsuleer gave the other woman a squeeze but the warm touch didn't elicit the expected reactions.

"I'm not leaving you." Synani looked for an eye contact that was avoided, she was getting worried. They had always shared everything, why her lover was now hiding things to her? The worry was a tide rising while a bit of anger flared in a lonely flame, she wasn’t a child to who hide the bad things of life.

"You are. It's better for both." Pain was growing into her heart, she hated to force her away but the prospect of her dying was far more painful of the pain of forcing her to leave now.

"What's happening?" she asked, getting on her knees and reaching for the capsuleer’s back. The other woman tensed at the touch before relaxing slightly. She wasn’t going away without at least knowing why she was being sent away.

"I cannot tell you. It will probably be only a few restless days but I prefer be safe than sorry." Miyoshi stated, breathing slowly, not looking at her but at the same time not resisting as Syn pulled her around.

Violet eyes fixed into the blue ones, not letting her look away. Syn could see pain underlying the unmovable decision while Miyoshi felt her heart sink seeing the doubt, the fear crawling into her lover’s eyes, as well as the lonely flame of anger.

"No." Syn said, trying to emulate the same cold she had felt in her lover’s words, she wasn’t letting her love push her away like a little obedient puppy always following the orders and never asking why.

"Yes, Syn. I don't want to mourn you if things go bad. I don't want... to lose you." she said, trying to not quiver, to show her she was stronger. The idea of having to mourn her made her stomach knot and her heart being gripped by cold hands. It was a thing she would do everything to avoid. She could die and be alive again, Syn could not.

She had learned to be cold-hearted after becoming immortal, she was more than any baseliner could be but deep inside she had always tried to be human. At least to some degree. Meeting Synani brought her humanity back, made her hold life dear more than she used to. It had changed her.

Miyoshi shut her eyes and pulled her lover tight close "I cannot live without you but this time the risk is real. It will be for a few days only, I'll come get you as soon as everything goes back to normality." she whispered, face pressed against her, breathing in the scent of the woman she loved. Memories of so many good moments lingering in the back of her mind.

“I want to know you’re safe… I don’t want to worry cause you’re stuck down there. If…” she had to take a deep breath before being able to keep speaking “If fighting happen and I get podded… I might be too far away to come back in time.”

Synani had fallen silent, breathing softly, holding her lover back tightly, listening and slowly coming to realize what the capsuleer was trying to tell her. Their home was at risk. A home her lover was ready to die for.

Miyoshi was going to fight for her home, the same home of Syn. She was going to fight for the dream that had come true, for everything she held dear and believed in. Synani wanted to fight with her, to be beside her as things happened. Her heart called for it but her mind knew it wasn’t possible. She wasn’t a capsuleer, she couldn’t be immortal nor she had any knowledge that could turn useful during a siege of the size her lover hinted.

“I know the place won’t be that nice and you will have to stay low and quiet but I have assigned people to you so you won’t be alone.” Miyoshi words broke the silence that had fallen on them. She pulled back, their eyes meeting again “Do it for me Syn, if nothing happen we will laugh on it but now, the threat is here and I cannot ignore it.”

Synani remained silent; she wanted to remain, she wanted to fight and support her home but then, was she ready to risk dying? Without the possibility to live again? Was she ready?

“You’re asking a lot…” she breathed, leaving Miyo for un unknown time, leaving her behind to fight, felt like she was betraying her lover as well as her home. “I don’t want.” she tried knowing her fight was probably going to last little, her lover could summon people to carry her away if needed; Syn knew she would hate it but the light in her eyes told her she was ready to if needed. “There is no other option? Not a single one?” she asked, her hands would have curled into fists if they were free. She hated being cornered this way. Miyoshi shook her head “Orders to be ready to evacuate are in place. People had been warned. Many will remain there but not you.”

A bitter answer raised to her lips, she was a grown-up woman, she could take choices by herself, but the eyes of her lover told more than words could and without much could be hidden. She bit her lips, Miyoshi didn’t deserve such bitter words, not when what she was doing was because of love “Family?” she asked in a breath, she had a family to worry about too “They will be with you.”

Synani sighed, closing her eyes for a long moment to try quiet and focus her mind. “I’m going.” she finally said in a whisper, staring into her lover’s eyes, calling for a promise. The decision was taken, there was no turning back now. Miyoshi pulled her back close “Send good vibes, the hope is still there and we aren’t going down without a fight.” she tried to smile, for her lover and for herself.

She was an immortal but she was scared nonetheless. Everything she had worked hard in the past months were at stake, her resort, her home. If anything happen, it was probably going to be the biggest fight she participated in since she had started flying. She would do her best, she had to.

She breathed softly as her hands reached to cup her lover’s face “Syn, never forget I love you. Even if lightyears apart.” she said softly kissing her with love.


Time flew by as they packed and the shuttle brought them up to Indigo Station. As they moved through the station to reach Miyoshi’s docks, Syn felt like it was the quiet before the storm, when everyone was getting ready and the force was building up more and more.

Soon enough they were travelling again, through Origin first and then into high-sec space. Syn stared silently as her home got smaller and smaller. As the wormhole in its flowing beauty grow smaller and smaller as they sped away.

Only a few days, Miyoshi had said. She had to have faith in her and in the others fighting for Origin. She had to.


Silence lingered into the small apartment as Syn waited for Miyoshi to come back; she sat on the couch, low lights around her, holoreel shut down. This was going to be a goodbye, even if for just for a few days.

Silently Miyo came in and reached for her lover, pulling her into a tight hug; she held her close, breathing her scent and feeling her to remember. They shared a long, passionate kiss, their hearts and feelings into it. The last kiss, the last touch, to be remembered, to warm the long days of wait.

The moment was only theirs. Unspoiled. Silent. And untouched.


Miyoshi was ready to walk back into her capsule when she felt her lover’s gaze on her and their eyes met one last time. “Wait for me, just for a few days.” she said softly, trying a smile.

“Miyo.” Syn called with a lump in her throat, a hint of tears showing on the edge of her beautiful eyes “Defend home.” She didn’t cry much but this time, knowing what was at stake, she felt unable to hold the tears back from showing.

“With all my heart.” A grin spread on her lips, whoever was going to try take her home away from her was going to sweat on it. She would fight until the last ship, until her last breath.

The pod closed around her and the darkness surrounded her before the light glared into her mind. Her pod undocked and slowly floated at the center of the hangar, it stayed there for a few slow seconds before speeding out.

She stared silently as everything unfolded and waited until the pod disappeared from view. Her hands gripped the railing, knuckles turning white as she breathed “Come back to me.” she whispered as a single tear fell. She felt her heart heavy but at the same time a smile blossomed on her lips: her lover wasn’t going to leave without a glorious fight.


The door to their home, spinning and twirling silently in space; Miyoshi stared through the mechanical eyes of the camera drones to the wormhole leading into Origin. Her thoughts sped between her duties and her heart. Had she brought everything out? Had she made the right decision? The wormhole rippled around her and she went back into Origin. She had made the right decision. Better safe than sorry.

She docked and without even leaving her pod, she reached up for the station outside view. Days of restless watch were ahead but she was calm, scared yes, but knowing what she held most was safe, it gave her the strength to survive anything it would happen.

Everything was set.

She was ready.


- - - < > - - -

Thank you for reading!


 9 
 on: 17 Oct 2017, 10:07  
Started by Miyoshi Akachi - Last post by Ché Biko
Chilling.

 10 
 on: 17 Oct 2017, 10:00  
Started by Aradina - Last post by Ché Biko
From what little I know about your character, this suits her well.

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