Friday, September 7, 2012

Vengeance – Part 2

Its fan fiction Friday. If that made you groan out loud then why not head over to this post about Sindel's Angle Project. Can such a project work in a universe filled with mistrust? As I commented on that post, all I can say is that after meeting Sin in real life I found her to be a very generous person especially with copies of Templar One and licks for strangers!!

Vengeance – Part 2

"Right, Nutz and Sinner. You're up first, as you are the two junior officers, you have to go at the same time."
"Awwww Capt'n! Together?"
"You got five minutes and times a tickin'. Get on in there!"
A female scream.
"Oh? Well look at that, Sinner is a biter!"
Laughter followed by another scream.
"Oh and Nutz is having a go with his teeth too. Feckin’ weirdo’s!"
More laughter and cheers of encouragement followed by a woman's screams.
God please no!

The capsuleer woke with a start, he'd nodded off on the couch. He checked the time, 70 minutes until the meet. He shook the tiredness from his head and left his quarters, heading slowly up to the bar. One hour and four drinks later it was almost time for the meeting.

"Looks like you could do with another drink" the bar tender said.

He simply slid his glass forward so the barman could fill it.

"Wanna talk about it?"

The caspuleer stayed silent.

"Have it your way." The barman simply topped up the glass and walked back down the bar.

The capsuleer shifted in his bar stool and looked around the establishment. He felt that he didn't belonged here. A few other caspuleers were seated at the various tables and booths. A couple of women were working the room which was normal for the capsuleer bars in hi-sec. Were there was money and power, they'd be close. Both of them had already tried it on with him, he'd been kind enough and politely said he wasn't interested. This bar was too pretentious for him, too expensive and too false. Just like the women here. The sooner he could get out of there the better.
"Evening!" a tall man took the bar stool next to him. The capsuleer just stared ahead.

"What did you find out?" he finally asked.

"Very little I'm afraid." replied the tall man "That datapad you gave me belonged to a low ranking officer. I wasn't able to retrieve anything more than what I've already given you before. It's all decrypted, same fee as last time." The man slid an envelope across the bar to the capsuleer who did the same.

"What you need is...."

"Yes, I know, a Captain's datapad. I'm working on it. They tend not to make it off the ship in time."

And with that the capsuleer picked up the envelope and left the bar via the lift. He arrived on the security deck a few seconds later. He crossed the deck un-challenged, the security scanner automatically detecting he was a capsuleer. Whilst it was unusual for capsuleers to want to access the lower decks, it was their choice. Generally on stations there were no lifts that went all the way up from the bottom to the top. The top decks, reserved for the corporate elite and the capsuleers, were usually physically sealed off from the rest of the station. There was too much danger of someone hacking the lift controls. To get from one area to the other you needed to physically cross a security checkpoint on foot and use a separate lift that served the upper decks. Security, bio and weapons scanners, remote DNA checks and lots of armed guards ensured that nobody accessed the top decks that shouldn't.

He finally reached the other side of the security station and entered the opposing lift. He selected a bottom deck and hit the door closed button.

This time he was in the lift for several minutes as it descended hundreds of decks. Finally the door opened onto a busy promenade. The capsuleer felt more at home instantly. He exited the lift, his hand going up to the back of his neck instinctively to check his high-collar on his jacket was hiding his top spinal interface socket from view.

The air down here in the bowels of the station was stale compared to the triple filtered, oxygen enriched air of the upper decks. There were different smells. Oils, leaking coolants, burning electrics, various aromas from the small food shacks that were haphazardly constructed against the walls of dark alleys. There was more litter, the walls were unpainted and left dull grey, and the people, well they were a different class all together. He walked down the promenade passing all manner of shops and establishments. Some sold second-hand drone parts that looked more like junk shops, others were seedy bars with the resident drunks slumped unconscious over the tables.

This is where he felt at home. He finally reached his destination. A small brightly painted door in a dimly lit alley just off the main promenade. A holographic sign above the door simply said "Girls" in a variety of changing colours.

The capsuleer entered and surveyed the room. It was quiet as it was still early evening. A few men were sat around watching a Gallente woman in high heels and a tiny thong dance around the pole on the stage. A few of them had dancers sat with them in the booths that lined the walls. No doubt trying to persuade them to pay for a private dance. He sat in a booth towards the back of the room and watched the show. A waitress came over and took his drink order. The song finished and a small, pathetic round of applause echoed around the mostly empty room. The dancer grabbed her discarded clothes that lay scattered around the stage and left to be replaced by a Matari woman in a tiny fishnet dress, high-heels and very little else.

The capsuleer's drink arrived as the Gallente woman who had been on stage entered the bar though a side door marked "Staff Only". It was the usual practice. Stage show, freshen up, change into something slightly less revealing and then onto the floor to work the customers. He watched her scan the room like a predator. Looking for the best opportunity. She would be discounting those regulars she knew didn't pay well or weren't up for a night of partying, she'd be looking for the ones that were smartly dressed and looked like they had money. The capsuleer compared her actions to his kind in a large fleet engagement. She was the same as the primary target caller who has only a few seconds to assess the scene and choose the best target. He saw her eyes flash his way and then move on. He was looking her way so she knew he was interested. Within a few seconds she'd swept the entire room and made her choice. She walked up to his booth.

"Hi" she said as she approached. She stopped and stood at the booth waiting to see his reaction. As soon as he smiled at her she slipped into the booth next to him without invitation "My names Trina." she held out her hand.

"Hi Trina." he said taking her hand in a gentle shake. He didn’t offer his name, but that was no issue to her, in fact it was the usual way.

"Not seen you here before. First time?" she slid up close so her leg was pressing against his. Her perfume filled his nostrils.

"I've been here before, but it was a few months ago. I travel." he replied.

"Ah. I've only been here a few weeks." she took his hand and placed it on her thigh near the lace tops of her stockings.

"Would you like a private dance?"

"Yes I would." was his reply.

"Just the one dance?"

"Let's have a VIP room for an hour, and see how we get along."

With that she smiled knowing she had made the right choice. A man with money who wanted to party here and maybe back at his place. She stood up, taking him by the hand and led him towards the VIP rooms.

He needed to forget again.


Gantor watched his aide leave the office and close the door behind him. When the door was fully closed he pulled out a bottle of whiskey from his desk and poured a glass. He didn't like this one bit. He downed the drink and walked to the window and stared out into space.

This was the third similar report in the last 10 weeks. A capsuleer taking down one of their ships wasn't news. It happened thousands of times a day throughout the cluster. But a capsuleer that searched the wreckage for the highest ranking surviving officer and captured them alive, now that was worrying.

It was always the same MO. The Guristas ship would be destroyed, the capsuleer's ship was fitted with some sort of modified tractor beam that could scan for life pods. He'd find the pod with the highest ranking officer, pull it into his ship and warp off. Only the escape pod with the highest ranking surviving officer was taken. The rest of the pods were left for the Sisters or a search and rescue team as was the norm with capsuleers.

None of the crew that had been taken by him, which was usually three to five per escape pod, had been in contact. Were they dead? Were they being held against their will? If the egger had turned them into the authorities he'd have known about it. He had done something with them. But what and why? It made no sense.

The surviving officers of the doomed Cormorant that he had interviewed that day could shed no light on it. Who was this capsuleer and why did he want to take his officers alive?

He had no clues, no leads and no idea where this egger would strike next. And that scared him.


No comments:

Post a Comment