The taste of blood; not quite the thing you'd want to awaken to, but when you’re unconscious on the floor of some derelict lab in the void, it's a welcome occurrence. I'm not quite sure how long I've been out or even why I'm here.
No...
It's cloudy..but I do remember....I do know.
It all started out like most of our far fetched plans, a small target, an easy mark, and a quick get away – yeah, they all start that way. Coming nearly fresh out of the Caldari ranks can leave you a bit devoid of the ability to adapt to a loose command structure, such as my new circle of friends.
I hadn't used that word much while serving; friends were people you saw die that mattered, that could bring down morale, even lower your combat efficiency – or so the instructors always hammered into us. We were all brothers in arms, but just a cog in the war machine, unrivaled by anyone. These people, these fellow pilots who can not die, they call me friend.
Normre, my name - not just the identifier 14232 I had been used to. You get accustom to it, even learn to enjoy it. Foremost, I never thought I'd have some Matari holding rank over me. But he gets the job done, and there are others alongside me who seem to have taken that jump past the boundaries they scar into us at youth. Everyone falls in line with the propaganda, the mega corps, the politicians,; they all have agendas.
Sure, my life started out just like everyone else – you're born, you enlist, you go kill for the cause, you die a horrible tragic death and receive a memorial service....well, all except that last part. It didn't take me long to realize that turning up corpsed in some open ditch on a far-off planet was a bad life goal. It could have been the words my cousin always told me about a brighter future, about being something both glorious and immortal...that or the sucking chest wound I'd received from shrapnel. It took being so close to death to realize that I wanted to live.
Years, currency, and knowing the right people, allowed me to pry myself from the coils of mortality. I'd spent a lot of time on ships before, but it was rare to meet or even catch a glimpse of the ships’ pilot..it was all business; there was no time for anything but prepping gear and being dumped out on some rock to fight the enemies of the state. It wasn't until I managed to become chosen that I understood the freedom that comes from knowing that “hey, sure you just got ripped limb from limb and blasted into the frozen depths of space, but no worries you'll wake up from that nightmare soon enough.”
...
...Dammit, that's all old news – but time moves quickly when you're nursing broken ribs. Hell, I think that may even be a tooth sitting in my helmet…No time for that now; I have to get back to the ship, back to the pod...before whatever else is about to happen hits the fan. Sometimes you have to do things yourself, climb out from the safety and take a walk into the bleakness of reality..next time, I'm not volunteering.
Volunteering, it's nice to have that option, something I hadn't had in the past. It was likely why I joined up with my first corp. I was so familiar with being a drone; you do what your told, you kill who you're told. It was simple, but not what an immortal should be. I wasn't a drone anymore. I was no longer just some numbered body bag waiting to be shipped home. When I realized that there was more, I saw that even amongst the immortals, we all were different and unique – and some less worthy than others. That's when I said good bye and punched out from the flaming wreck that was my previous employer. Yeah, employer, and only that.
"Let's talk," those were the first words I remembered. I'm sure the conversation was all inspiring, but I just wanted to prove myself and get back into combat. My new, my current, corporation was by comparison an interesting lot. Take the best and worst of a crowded station bar; that describes it well. I had my differences at first - we all do – but in time, I knew that every pilot had reason to be who they were: money, power, heritage, or just blind luck for some. That's what the corp represented: a fellowship of those with intentions to be more, and the will to strive for it without looking back. No reason to look back, not like now.
...
I could barely remember the route. There was no up-link from my ship...no signal from the others..the damn metal the place was made of was dampening everything. This trinket had better be worth what they said, even half would pay off everything I'd borrowed up after last time.. yeah that time didn't go so well. It was supposed to be quick, maybe an hour in and out, but no one told us exactly how screwed this old place was. Just getting inside was bad; it took a fleet to punch through the swarm of defense drones outside – I'd managed to get docked up with the lab to recover our target while the others kept fighting. Maybe, just another few minutes – I had to be close.
That sound, like the screams of a thousand dying children being dragged across the hallways..that's not what I want to hear..not now..not this close. Just a few more corners, a hatch, and hopefully a ship. This would all be over, and we'd be busy finding out how to spend our cuts.
I thought I'd lost that damn thing..some abomination of flesh and metal. Who the hell made this place anyway?
The Intel told us some screwed up researchers thought it would be a good idea to augment workers with cybernetics based on those damnable drones they found scattered in the farthest sectors of space. Yeah, that sounds like a bright idea only a lab lurker would come up with...
I couldn't help but notice the smell..the red gleam of blood on it's chitin carapace…it’s not going to be a good day...is it? So many arms, another great idea they had... at least it wasn't that fast..well not after I'd unloaded the last of the ordinance I had with me into it. I'm pretty sure it wasn't happy, and that it would have a whole lot of love to share with me if I didn't get a move on. Another hallway...dammit...it never ends. This place is a miserable maze...I'm not sure how I ended up on an observation deck of this place..definitely not on my route out.
At least the light from outside let me get a better look at the thing. Oh yeah – it wasn't going to be winning any beauty contests. Or...the other..and the others... seriously..how many of these things did they make! Seems I have quite a following now - I’m usually more of a lady's man..but you don't always get to choose what the misbegotten creatures on a derelict lab look like.
I don't even remember this level from the map, and it's not the time to get lost. I know it was bright in here a moment ago. It was just then I turned and happened to catch a glimpse out the reinforced glass.
Well shit, where'd space go...?
....
That's what I remember. The structure must have breached for some reason…but I'm alive, not even in a lab choking up that damn goo. For a moment it was eerily quiet, but just for a moment.
"Normre, we have been waiting quite a bit past our scheduled departure time, I do like to be punctual on deliveries," a familiar Amarian female’s voice boomed across my link as I pried myself from the floor of the derelict lab, shrugging off the debris and looking around to reorient from the impact.
"Yeah, hurry your ass up, if I'd know you'd be in there so long I'd have......" the comms chattered as they walked all over one another, "Ugh, is he STILL in there? Normre...we don't have anything else to shoot at out here..it's getting boring."
The breach must have reestablished my link...chatter from one of the Matari in our fleet, and his strange Amarr compatriot...Imagine that. I'm not sure if it was tactical, happenstance, or just insanity...but I'm pretty sure I can read the blazoned markings of my new corp across the armored plates where there used to be a horde of now splattered gore and servos. The visor on my suit dimmed in response to the billions of tiny lights that started to flicker before me, casting shadows everywhere – an army of nanites began their work, diligently removing any trace of damage from the massive ship’s hull. I took a moment in the surreal glow to check for my precious cargo - thankfully I still had the damn thing we came for. It was dirty but it was intact.
"You almost killed me, you know that, right....?" I couldn't help but fire off that response just as I recognized just who's ship it was.
"Hmm..Knock Knock...You do know you could be much nicer when someone comes to rescue you...you are wearing a suit, and it's not like you'd die..well..not likely at least. Plus those things were all over, and I was quite capable of planning a safe impact trajectory, we could see you....you know." She always did find new ways to use a ship, true blooded Caldari that one, even if she oddly never flew our hardware.
I wanted to laugh as I climbed over the wet twisted metal, trying not to slip on what I assumed were once eyes, punching in the hatch code that would bring me home, and out of this hell. Well, at least until I need another paycheck..
Heh, just business as usual.
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Topic: [Ciarente contest submission] Just Business (Read 904 times)