Friday, 8 July 2011

Reflecting Darkness and Other Colours

This is Rocking Ricky, bringing you all the mad sounds of the moment and of the past in a stellarcast straight from the Great Wildlands. Broadcasting to you around the planet, around the system, around the region!
It's usually about this time that I like to look back on what has happened out here in the great black. Well, space is getting smaller as the DRF sweep the NC aside as if it wasn't there. Makes you wonder. But enough of that, here are the mellow tunes of Phantasy Phive and Tubular Chaos...

1st reflection

Carmilla D'morenta sat on the bench on the edge of the promentary of rock overlooking the great starport and seaport on the capital city of Lustrivek VI. The ocean rolled off into the distance, reminding her of happier times back at the Geisha House when she would sit and watch the waves for hours. A sebiestor sat next to her, clad in the garb of a city cleaner, a large broom in his hands as sat on the bench with her.
"I have done what I can. You are a brave one. Though I'm not sure your course of action is a wise one."
"It doesn't matter Spartacus. When she finds me, and she will she wont be civilised, I'll be dead and everything we have talked about will be gone."
"Then why did you seek me out?"
"Because you gave me hope. And because I think you can help me in some way."
"But you want to go back to her, to a slaver... why should I risk my own skin to help you?"
"I will fund you, your cause, your operations. You are just a person, but I can make you a capsuleer, and from there you can really fight back."
The sweeper scratched the burn scar on his face and nodded. It was a good proposition.
"But you will remember nothing of this, when she kills you."
Carmilla pulled a ring from her finger and gave it to him. He looked at it and turned it over, eyeing the inscription and the sigil. A guristas ring from a woman named Angelina.
"I will remember enough, and they wont' know that. They'll think I have my memories only from forty eight hours ago, that this little rebellion will be purged. Find me in a week, show me this ring and I'll know you are a friend. Go now, I can hear her approach."

The sweeper ran his hand over his face and stood up leaning on his broom and looked around. In the distance a woman was approaching. Gods, what hearing, are they gods that they can hear what I can only just see? He walked away from her and started to sweep again, ignoring everything that was around him. When he looked up again the woman was staring at him. He shivered and seeing she was khanid, bowed slightly to her.
"Can I be of service to you? Are you a vistor to our fair city?"
"Be quiet fool. I am seeking this woman, I was told she came this way."
She raised her hand and a 3d image of Carmilla was shown. He scratched his scar and pointed to the bench.
"There she be, my dear. At least, it looks like her."
He looked the woman in the face and burned her image into his mind before turning back to his sweeping and listening to her footsteps get further and further away.

Carmilla sat on the bench and closed her eyes, tears were streaming down her face and she raised her head to the sun. The footsteps were louder now and stopped behind her. Behind her eyelids all she saw was the brilliant white of the glare of the sun, then as the barrel of a weapon was thrust against her neck the white tinged red as she fell forward into an infinity of solitude

The sweeper closed his eyes at the sound of the gunshot and continued sweeping, hoping for her sake that she knew what she was doing.

I heard the other day that a slave rebelled, kidnapped her Mistress and dropped her in the starport of a Minmatar city. Brave girl I say, even braver Mistress though I'm loathe to say it. From what I heard she fought her way through the mob outside the ship and escaped long enough to kill the slave and get her ship back. You might say that Holders have no place in civilised society, but when one can do all that and get her ship back and get her revenge, you can't help but admire them. Here are the Demon Knives with Slice of Morphite Heart....

2nd Reflection

The pod drifted through space, it's beacon lights no longer flashing. A thin jet of propellant from the damaged engine section pushing the pod through the emptyness of the system. No signals could be heard from the pod, no navigational flashes. For all intents and purposes it seemed to be dead. A ghost ship.

Deep inside the pod, wrapped in the protective caress of the pod fluid Angelina, pirate and renegade slept. Placed in a state akin to a coma by the pod she dreamed as time and space became as one, a mysterious void to be crossed.

The dreams came. Memories blurring from one state to the next. Somehow she knew she was in danger, but deep down, she didn't care. So much had been done in the past, sins to atone for, crimes to be paid, pennances to be enacted.

She sat crosslegged, floating on a cloud. All around her other clouds containing memories. The strongest, her son and husband. A reason to fight, a reason to survive. A reason to live. Always these were at the forefront of her mind, so here in her dreams they kept her alive.

So easy it was to forget the ambush, the ship exploding, the pod damaged and fleeing.

One day someone would find the pod.

One day she would awaken....

One day....

Of course it's well known that I like to get out there and fly and shoot up hapless tourists. But the other day I watched someone do just that. It's quite enjoyable to sit back and watch a fight, the dance of the frigates, the lumbering of the battleships, the exchange of fire. Sometimes I wonder if those isk laden capsuleers know what they are missing out here in edge of civilisation where the only law is what we make it. Then again, they probably do and prefer the comfort of concord, the scammers of Jita and the gankers on the pipes. Their loss. Our gain. Here is another cold cup of quaffe from Parity Burn with Scream in the Vacuum...

3rd reflection

Victor Ballentyne leant against the edge of the pit and watched. The cheering and screaming that was coming from inside the pit was quieter than that around it. People from all walks of life were watching the fights, betting, gambling, indulging. He smiled as he watched his girls walking around, inticing customers, offering favours, hinting things that people liked. The fat man next to him cheered as the slaves in the arena fought, another one falling.
"Aaah Victor my friend, I am glad you brought me here. This indeed is sport!"
"You dont' have to tell me that. You have to enjoy it! Just think, we could use your warehouses across the region to put these fights on. No one gets hurt, no one that matters anyway. You get a hefty cut of the profits and I get to sell my merchandise to the customers.
"Aaaah, but why do I need you? I can set this up on my own!"
The fat man laughed and drank deeply from his glass before throwing it in the arena. The Native Freshfood pin on the lapel of his tailored suit indicated his allegiance, but he looked more caldari than matari.
"You see Victor, I have had this idea before. I can make it work, maybe better than you can."
"That my friend, is where you are wrong. You would have to find out who to bribe, which locations are the best for fighting, how best to make money out of the crowd. You need support, security and product. Slaves are ten a penny, even here in Heimatar if you know where to look. The food and drink, all costs and the drugs, all in high demand. I have all these."
The fat man mulled this over and looked at Victor, calculating and working on things in his mind.
"I want seventy percent of the profits."
"No. Fifty for short term, then it can rise to seventy once it's established."
"And why should I do this? Fifty percent is small fry for me. I dont get out of bed for less than a million...."
Victor removed his jacket and handed it to the fat man and looked into the arena. The last fight had finished and ten new slaves have been pushed in, a variety of weapons dropped on the floor. With a leap Victor was in the ring and picked up a heavy sword. He turned to the fat man and the quiet of the assembled crowd.
"Now you shall see some sport! Freedom to the slaves that kill me!"
The crowd was silent then roared. The Fat man looked around and noticed the fervour, the intensity and the passion here. This, spread across his warehouses. It was enough, and he mused as he watched Victor cut the leg off an amarri prisoner and stood on it's neck, Victor was mad enough to make things dificult if he was betrayed. Damn Serpentis.

It never fails to amaze me how much people overreact at Sansha and his band of lunatics. Every incursion they make has been defeated. Countless numbers of his followers have been slaughtered, their ships destroyed and salvaged. With the fervour people go at them it must look like we are the savages. I dont pretend to understand why what Sansha did was wrong, after all he's never harmed me, but I do wonder what would happen if the Blood Raiders woke up and did the same. Personally, I think they are more of a threat, but hey, I just sit here and play great tunes to liven up your days. Here is Helium Dreadnought with Twenty Four Hour Vigil.....

4th reflection

The cloning technician stood by the vat and waited. He had been paid well to keep this particular clone from awakening, but he was begining to think it wasn't nearly enough. Three hours over the time agreed and still the woman hadn't arrived. His neocom flashed and he checked it and breathed out a sigh of relief and headed for the door, opening it and letting the woman in. He had to admit to himself she looked a lot better in the flesh than over the comm channels. Turning he watched a block enter the doorway that turned out to be a large brutor who pushed him into the room and locked it.

Relana looked at her slave in the vat, anger in her eyes. She ran her gloved hand over the surface of the tube and looked in through the slightly murky liquid.
"When does it say she last had a scan?"
"Uuuh, according to recent records, her last scan was over two days ago, nearer three."
"Decant her. Do it now. Brute, help her when she gets out. If she doesn't remember her place, make her."
The brutor nodded and turned to the technician who scurried away.

The whiteness of solitude began to darken as she regained consciousness. Carmilla felt the tubes being withdrawn from her body and needles sliding into her veins, filling them with fluids. Her eyes opened and slowly her memories began to flood in. A heavy kind hand wiped the fluid from her and helped her to her feet, then slipped a collar around her neck. For a moment Brute could see the smile come to her face, then it froze as her eyes opened fully and she looked up.
"Brute? What happened? Where am I?"
"I don't know the details, but you are here now and I am with you. So don't struggle and make a scene....."
Her mind began working with the drugs in her system, memories flooding back. She had stolen Rel's Slicer and kidnapped Rel. For a day she had been free. Then... nothing. The cloning template had no more answers for her. Mortis! She had fired on Mortis and damaged his ship to stop him chasing her! Oh frack, she though.

She stretched and flexed her arms and looked around catching sight of her Mistress. Instint took over and she quickly moved over to her and knelt before her in a submissive pose.
"Mistress, please excuse my.... I mean...."
Rel looked down at her, the anger in her heart smouldering, but she restrained her urges. In her minds eye she saw herself beating this slave to a pulp for what she did. But it was obvious she didn't know.
"What is your place slave?"
"On my knees before you Mistress, ever your slave and loyal subject."
It was rote, but it was true. She reached down and grabbed Carm's chin and lifted her face to hers.
"Do you know why you are here?"
"No Mistress. All I remember is after updating my clone I was ordered to head over to the station at the behest of Mortis and then... nothing. I'm sorry Mistress, I do not know what happened."
"You were killed protecting me. You laid down your life so that I could live. Anti-slavers, foul Minmatar scum who deserve to be exterminated attacked us. You showed your loyalty slave. Aren't you proud of your sacrfice?"
Carmilla looked up at her. Relana held her chin, but in her minds eye all she saw was Ithiria. All Relana saw was the look of devotion in a slave she hadn't seen for a very long time. It struck a chord with her soul that hadn't been touched before. Her hand caressed Carmilla's face and her cold heart softened. This slave was different. Dangerous. But that look.... gods that look.
"Clean yourself up and attend me slave. I'll be at the Charmoise Hotel.
She turned on her heel and departed leaving Carmilla with Brute, wondering what the future would bring. Perhaps she had managed to tame this wild slave. Time would tell.

Carmilla wept as Brute held her. Biting her lip she refrained from screaming out the name on her lips. Oh yes, this is how revolutions are started. Brute reached into the bag on his back and pulled out her bag and opened it revealing her chains, a change of clothes and a sleeping puppy.
"I been looking after him for you Carm. Like I look after you."
She pickedup the puppy and held him, kissing his sleeping head.
"Thank you Brute. Come on, help me get ready....."

Well that is all we have time for tonight. Remember when you are out in Empire and you look around.... you can't shoot anyone. Concord doesn't like it. But by all means, entice them out to our area of space, tell them of the profits to make and the ores to mine. Then pop them and loot their wrecks. If it's not blue...a aah, you know the rest. This is Rocking Ricky signing off to the cool tunes of Road Rage and Scimitar Blues....

No comments:

Post a Comment