Wednesday, 21 March 2012

Midnight Reflections

This is Rocking Ricky, bringing you all the mad sounds of the night and the darkest day in a stellarcast straight from the Great Wildlands. Broadcasting to you around the planet, around the system, around the region!
I remember back in the day when Titans were the mother of all ships. Now everyone has one. And when one dies it no longer brings a sense of awe, it's just something that happens. So when Pandemic Legion loose one of those it's seen as a big thing because one of the big boys lost his toys stupidly. Personally, I dont care. I'm just here for the music. And here is a hot cup of quaffe from Terminal Velocity and their number one hit Inferno Blues...

1st Reflection

From the windows of the captain quarters of the carrier Victor Ballentyne stood naked and watched the staging area. Dozens of ships flew past, their ion trails glimmering agaisnt the starlight. He held out his hand and a glass was placed into it. Without looking he drank, held out the glass and let go. With a smile he watched the progress his forces had made. A cyno was lit and two more carriers warped in, the sigil of the Serpentis on their hulls.

Turning he looked upon the four women before him. Four slaves, once all high born Khanid, bought or obtained, now just slaves for his pleasure. He laughed as he selected one and dragged her by the chain on her collar towards the bed and picked up a whip. The old clock on the desk struck midnight as the first of the lashes fell.

So I found myself in Jita the other day, quite a departure from my usual trading hub of Rens. And what struck me was not the amount of trade that goes through the system, but the general advertising and nonsense that comes from those in the system. So much is on offer there, and so many people are out to make a quick buck, but some of them have no idea. Personally when I go looking for a freighter I'm going to notice getting a lump of carbon instead of vast lump of metal. But, as the song goes, trade with the devil on the high winds of jita. Here is the song now, High Winds by the Cobaly Sunset Band....

2nd Reflection

Carmilla staggered out of the hanger bay and into the gardens of the Kenkii. Her pale pink kimono was torn and stained, her hair ragged and her makeup ruined by the tears. She sat with her back to one of the trees, out of the line of the security cameras and started to weep.

Just hours before everything was happy, sitting here drinking tea while explaining the running of a Geisha House. Now, everything had changed. Angelina, returned to her after so many months away at the wars, only to be taken away. Back into slavery, or worse. The Governor of the system not caring, only demanding his tribute.

The trials of a heretic slave did not concern him. Only this treason, he said, now pay me or I burn this place down. How simple it would have been to take him up on it, and to watch it burn. Watch them all burn, but then, that was so familiar wasn't it. SHE would have done that. But hesitation to some men is all they need and the following hours were not pleasant. But it saved the House. Was this the same shame that Angelina felt when she was with the Admiral? Does rank matter? Will the stench of shame ever truly be cleaned? Or does it require blood, the blood of ones enemies?

As the wind chimes tinkled gently in the breeze there was a throbing from her inside pocket, her datatablet was reminding her of the time. It was just past midnight. Not caring she closed her eyes and slept.

I was offered a slave today, in part payment for a ship I was selling. Its true, the slave was gorgeous and any man would have given his eye teeth for her, but it did make me sad. There I was thinking that slavery was on the way out, that the high and mighty of the Amarr Empire had seen the light. But not so it seems when you get out to Providence. Out there you can still buy and sell slaves on the block, or trade them in for a new ship. Personally I just bought her then gave her her own papers and said she was free. What do I need with a slave? But then again, I also dont need the camp outside who were out to get me. And for this little who I couldn't take with me I give you the somber sounds of Knives of the Matar by the Sinqai Orchestra....

3rd Reflection

The cell was twelve feet square, the walls were padded, the floor polished stone. In one wall a simple wash basin sat next to a toilet. The most basic of amenieties, but there the luxury ended. No bed, no blankets, just the heavy chain going from the centre of the floor to the thick collar around her neck. It allowed her to reach every corner of the room, not that she could have gotten through the locked door even if she tried. Looking up at the light in the ceiling she frowned, was it getting darker in her?

The padding on the walls was the warmest part of the cell, and she wedged herself into the corner. Looking up she could feel her pulse racing, it was getting darker. Standing below it she couldn't reach the light, it was too far over head so she went to the door, the grill was letting light in from the room beyond. She could hear the guards talking and the music from the vid they were watching. Above her, the light dimmed perceptively and she tried to pull the chain so she was closer to the door.

With a slam the grate on the door was closed and the only light was rapidly dimming. Backing into the corner she sat down and tried to make herself as small as she could, her breathing fast and the fear turning her bowels to ice. The light went out and she sobbed. The silence and the darkness were deafening. She tried to talk to herself, to remind herself of the battles she had fought, of the friends she had and to recite lists she knew. But the cold was sapping her, and the fear was all encompasing. Running at the door she slammed herself against it, pounding on it with the heavy shackles on her wrists. Scratching at the door like a wild beast she screamed, a frightened scream, a pleading scream. But no one came. Back in the corner of the cell she sat and whimpered against the darkness. In her mind, all she could hear was the silence, the deafening silence, then the skittering. It wasn't real, but in the tortured mind of Angelina Ballentyne, the insects were coming again, as they had done so when she was a small girl and was punished in the pit.

To the guard outside, the screams when they started again sounded like the screaming of the damned. Which, of course, she was. He turned and looked at the clock on the wall, just passed midnight.

Well that is all we have time for tonight. Remember when you are out in Empire and you look around.... Sansha could be anywhere. Think you are safe? Well you are not, and now you know what it's like out here in the edge of civilisation. But dont take my word for it, come see. Bring your friends. This is Rocking Ricky signing off to the cool tunes of Maximum Passion and the Sansha Babes.

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