As I sit here at this bar, leaning back nursing my drink and choking back a cigarette of questionable content, I reflect upon the situation that had brought me to the backend of high sec. I’m a man of vices though, so personal reflection tends to be in a rather shallow pool unless my crew is involved. Damn, my crew… without them…
Shaking my head with a chuckle as I suddenly find myself nearly overwhelmed by the urge to cough my new lungs out. I may remember how to smoke but damn if my flesh does.
Where was I? Damn this drink tastes like it was reused. Ah yes, my crew. Blast those miscreants, I do so much for them and what do they do? They follow me into hell to spit in the eye of whatever passes our way is what. I lead, they follow, I die… they avenge me or meet me at the bar minutes after I get here.
Looking up I see one of my crew now, she nods in acknowledgement as she comes in and sits beside me as the local riff raff making snide remarks at the tables behind me over her odd method of dress and the over the top usage of face coverage. She can take care of herself though; she is one of those twice damned Khanid who have no problem with getting old school on some Matari… heh… even if that Matari is me. But this time I know why she is here, she is here for going down in flames with me on another one of my damn fool adventures.
Heh, my adventures… boy have I come far in life. Don’t get me wrong I was not just some other underclass Sebiestor but I hardly was sucking the silver spoon. The competition for capsuleer is a severe one. For who would not give up everything for immortality and the chance to travel the stars unrestricted? No one in their right minds and even a few out of their minds that is for certain. I had to walk over quite a few bodies to get the right to be an immortal and since then it has been little more than a corpse trail through the stars.
Hell, speaking of corpse trail… there is another one of my crew. Damn the clone doesn’t look any prettier but few Caldari are improved by rebirth. He sits next to me and motions for a drink, wearing his casual waist down pants and little more, his body still glowing from the medical facility. I may not have known him for long but he like many of our new crewmates are people I explicitly trust. I remember him breaking the back of Sleepers in a wormhole as they ripped into my superstructure. Without him I would have lost my ship and way home. I nod to him without looking and consider how the rest of my people must be handling the situation with the forces we ended up fighting.
I remember my first death, one always does when getting used to a new body. Sure you can and will die many times but you always remember the first one where you lost the body you were born mortal in. I was breaking into my life as a capsuleer when I joined the Axis alliance. The details of my death are summarized in panic and abject horror as my core instincts fought with my reasoning. The realization you are going to die, especially when it is the type of slow drawn out death of an enemy who has you overpowered but not by much. You sit there floating in your capsule while your ship crew panic as they realized their mortal coil is about to be cut. Some of them cursed me and others prayed for my safe transition in the traditions of their ancestors. I sat there silent to them all, taking in and fighting my first fight to the death, holding out just long enough to ensure I would be avenged by others. When the end came it was one of resignation.
Boy have I grown. Had I known what I had known about ship systems back then, perhaps I would have survived. But then again I would not have gotten over my fear of death. Speaking of death, the look upon another one of my immortal crew’s face looks especially dire. I know she is one of our most capable pilots so no doubt if she is here as well as the Khanid that the battle may be lost as our younger capsuleers strive to fight the fleet that warped on top of us. No matter how good you are in space, there is someone better, or just too many of them to counter effectively.
But I digress. Looking at the mirror across the bar I’m sitting at I see the new me. The face has come to mean less and less as time goes by. Rebirth has a tendency to maintain ones useful looks regardless of experience. It is so rare I even see my reflection anymore. Ever since I left Minmatar space and started formulating my own destiny outside of major immortal alliances and diving into the unknown space brought about by wormholes my face has become little more than something I know I exists but is constantly immersed. Living in a capsule may seem restricting but I have too much to do and too little time to do it in… heh for an immortal to say they don’t have enough time.
I chuckle slightly out loud, my compatriots to the left and right of me silent as they think on the things one thinks about after being reborn. Rushing out to battle is out of the question. Dying in unknown space means no quick path back. Damnable wormhole pirates. Sure I am an industrialist but I am hardly a victim… but no matter how well prepared we seemed, they just had too many forces in the right place. Oh well, that is the price one pays at times. I just wish my crew didn’t have to burn with me.
Speaking of… I look up as someone jumps into through the station bar door, skidding to a halt a mere meter from me. Naked and almost as ugly as a happy Amarrian he gives me a thumbs up with a grin reserved for children. I laugh out loud, he is a character that is for certain. Capsuleers can be silly at times, after all when you live forever… boredom or repetition can do things to one’s mind. But this guy was born … different.
Before he can say more I smile with a nod. He may have burned with us other veterans but his grin and thumbs up say it all. Our crew won the day. With that win we can resume our operations much quicker than normal. Before I can get any words out to inquire on the juicy details I hear snickers from the peanut gallery of the bar. Mortals tend to be a bit on the spiteful side towards us immortals and they take any chance they can get at making fun of us, usually in hushed voices behind closed doors. Few dumb mortals ever laugh at us, fear… for sure. But laugh? No no no, the status quo must be preserved.
Knocking back my degreaser of a drink with a silent choke that only a newly cloned body can do and flicking my cig at the ground, I get up. It’s time to break in this new body. I miss the scars; they were character building… after all. I am surprised at those that choose to follow me, they may follow me but they have come to define me, I live for them. So getting up I adjust my belt as my Khanid friend sits at the bar with a silent knowing smile as I head off to work out on the snickering populace and break in my new body. No sooner do I approach them, then nearly the entire bar stands up as though it is relishing in the opportunity to take down a capsuleer down a notch.
Sure, perhaps on some random capsuleer that would have worked. But I am hardly alone and hardly random. My name is Darius Cristan and I am an immortal. Those who rise to stand by me are my crew as are those who fight with me across the stars. I lead my crew and they define me… together those of us who are here need to burn some energy and break in our new bodies.
Pain is irrelevant, death is a flicker of annoyance, but putting the fear into others over what we can do despite the odds is something I cherish.
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Topic: [Ciarente contest submission] Recollections of the Reborn (Read 697 times)