THE CONTEST

Create a short story for the above image. Your story must be greater than 500 words. To submit your entry:

1. Post the link to your entry blog in the comments below OR
2. Post your story in the comments below

THE RULES

Entry cutoff will be 12AM Saturday April 18, 2009.

At this time, I will create a poll of every entry, and let my readers vote on their preferred story entry. Polls will close at 12AM Saturday April 25, 2009.

On Monday April 27, 2009, I will announce the winner.

THE PRIZE

Really, this is the part it’s all about. You either want the prize, or you don’t. 

The winner of this contest will be featured in an EVE Online wallpaper I create. This image will be posted on my Flickr page, the official EVE Online forums, and anywhere else the winner wishes it to be posted.

I like to think it’s a cool prize.

Good luck!

PATOR SYSTEM

He scrambled down the corridor in pursuit, his heavy suit slowing him down. There were only two more hallway junctions until their quarry eluded them, securing himself in his hangar, escaping into space.

They had already broken into two teams, the ground team, which he was part of, and the flight team, which wouldn’t have systems operational on their combat shuttle for another five minutes. 

Five minutes was way too long when in pursuit of a capsuleer.

Daul sucked recycled air into his burning lungs, his helmet filtering out any potential toxins, and continued storming down the hallway after Deschaines.

Roland Deschaines was a con artist. The sad thing was, he didn’t do anything deemed illegal by Concord. He simply sold mislabelled items; Stabbers as Republic Fleet Stabbers, etc, etc. It was profitable, immoral, and perfectly legal.

The up side was that as a member of Roc’s Renegades, they could apprehend Deschaines under the pretense of military crimes; Concord wouldn’t interfere with that. Everything was supposed to have gone smoothly.

They were a three member team. Their squad commander had posed as a potential buyer of Deschaines fraudulent wares, and had loitered insystem until Deschaines finally approached him with an offer. Having agreed upon a price, they had docked at a nearby station to complete the transaction.

They had secreted into the station upon docking, keeping a safe distance from their team lead, whom was wearing more appropriate clothing for the role he was acting. He couldn’t exactly be seen as a legitimate pilot/businessman walking around in a heavy suit. The bulky armour was resistant to most military grade weapons, and was lab tested to even be able to withstand a minor frigate blast, though Daul wasn’t anxious to field test that.

Roland had wanted to meet on the station’s promenade. It was smart really; someplace public gave him all the advantages. Still, today was his last day of running scams. He had scammed Colonel Wieler just over a month ago, and the Colonel didn’t take kindly to it. Upon contacting Deschaines, Roland just shrugged it off as “making a living”. It was obvious he didn’t know whom he had crossed.

They had watched from the shadows as the two met, engaged in smalltalk, then finally got down to business. It was quick and to the point. Deschaines was obviously the type of man that enjoyed not being in one place too long.

Deschaines produced a mobile transaction unit, the kind any legitimate business would have, and the pseudo pilot processed his end of the transaction, using one of Colonel Wieler’s accounts. Roland then transmitted the deed for the bogus ship. The two men shook hands, the support team’s cue to get ready.

Their team lead didn’t release his grip of the other man’s hand, producing handcuffs from seemingly nowhere and slapping them across the other man’s wrist, locking it in place.

Deschaines’ eyes widened in terror and he yanked against the handcuff, only to find its mate attached to the wrist of the team lead, a sturdy built man. Roland wasn’t going anywhere.

That was when things started going downhill.

Deschaines’ demeanour changed, his face contorting into one of savagery, as he drove his forehead into the nose of the team lead. He followed this up quickly by driving his elbow down across the other man’s arm while kicking his knee, dropping him to the ground, stunned. Daul and the other man in the heavy suit bolted from their cover, assault rifles locked and loaded.

The crowd on the promenade was quickly stirring into a panic, dispersing in random directions, making things that much more difficult. Daul was unable to get a clean line of fire on Deschaines, whom had dropped to his knee over the unconscious form of the team lead. 

Daul pushed through the panicked crowd, shouldering and elbowing his way closer to his team lead. Every moment they were out of sight was one moment too long. Each second stretched, Daul’s chest tightening with dread. He had only been part of Colonel Wieler’s team for a few weeks, but was giving it everything he had, learning more than he ever thought possible in his previous life.

The crowd broke, and he was standing over the unconscious form of his team lead. The man’s forearm was cleanly cut in two, blood spilling across the promenade floor. Daul quickly checked for a pulse; there was none. 

“Team lead down. Need medical evac now! No eyes on target. I repeat, no eyes on target. We’ve lost him!” Daul spoke hurredly into his helmet’s comm unit. 

“Notifying station security of potential murder suspect. See if you can pick up his trail, Halwick. The Colonel will be pissed if we blow this.” his other team mate replied.

Daul scanned the floor for the easiest trail, the blood from the stump of his team lead. He scanned around him in all directions, not finding any droplets of the life giving fluid. “Shit!” Daul thought to himself. “What the fuck is going on?” He ran in a random direction for a few meters, scanning for signs of Deschaines. He had lost him, with no inclination of how to find him.

“He’s gone, Burrick.” Daul said through his comms. “I’m going to the upper level of the promenade. I might be able to see better from there.”

“Roger that.” The other man replied. “I’ve engaged station security. They’re using medical scans now for accelerated heart rate, etc, but with the crowd panic, it’s pinging too many results. I’ll keep you posted. Head back to the ship and report.”

Daul Halwick headed back to their docking bay to report their failure, and worst, the loss of one of their team, to Colonel Wieler. 

Several minutes later and he was close to where they had docked. He turned a corner, nearly stumbling over a man he recognized; a man with a bagged and bloody stump hanging from a handcuff attached to his arm. 

Daul’s eyes went wide. He hesistated. Roland did not, turning and running like a man possessed, disappearing around a corner. Daul gathered himself and raced after Deschaines.

He scrambled down the corridor in pursuit, his heavy suit slowing him down. There were only two more hallway junctions until their quarry eluded them, securing himself in his hangar, escaping into space. 

“I’ve got him!” Daul screamed into his helmet comms. “Lock onto my signal and bring me some backup!” His armour clad feet clanged heavily against the floor as he kept running down the hall after Deschaines.

As he turned the last junction, he could see the secured hangar access door opening, Deschaines moments from escape.

Daul dropped to one knee, and took aim. His voice was amplified by a built in megaphone in the heavy suit. 

“Roland Deschaines. Freeze where you are. You’re coming with me.”

Deschaines didn’t break his stride. Daul was not a law enforcement officer. Daul wasn’t going to warn him again. Daul opened fire with his assault rifle.

High yield projectiles littered the hallway, peppering Deschaines legs, shearing them almost clean off slightly above the knees. He dropped like a sack of wet meat, screaming in pain.

“Target acquired and in need of medical attention.” Daul said, a slight hint of triumph in his voice. He stood and approached Deschaines, his weapon still trained on him, wary of any more surprises.

“My legs!” Deschaines screamed in agony. “You shot my fucking legs! What the fuck is wrong with you?! You fuck!”

Daul opened a pack at his waist, and pulled out some lengths of nano elastic. He secured it to what remained of Roland’s leg, watching as the elastic pulled tight, creating an effective tourniquet until the medical team arrived.

Roland yelled in further pain, prompting Daul to dig an emergency sedative from his kit and inject it into Deschaines. 

The man cursed and grumbled for another few moments, then succumbed to forced sleep.

Daul allowed himself to smile at the man. “Sweet dreams, bitch. Enjoy them while you can. When you’re awake, the first thing you’re going to see is Colonel Wieler.”

There it was, 70km and closing. I checked the systems on my Rifter, medium shield extender, passive shield tank ready. I hit the afterburners, readying my three vulcan autocannons, and raced towards the encounter. There were few frigates that could withstand an up close onslaught from a well piloted Rifter.

He got the target lock before me, but I didn’t panic; still I approached at maximum velocity, waiting to get in range to unleash my fury.

A nos latched onto my ship, and then another. That was the enemy pilot’s first mistake; my autocannons didn’t require capacitor; it was one of the many glories of being a Minmatar. I was almost in range when the first volley from his medium beam lasers tore away half of my shields.

“What the? Aura, verify combat readouts are operational!” I barked. There was no way a frigate should be able to inflict that type of damage. Aura quickly affirmed that the enemy frigate was indeed packing a hefty punch. 

I had never encountered a Succubus before; that was my first mistake, not knowing the capabilities of my enemy. I had relied on my prowess, arrogantly underestimating my prey. 

I got into range and let loose with a ferocious volley against the enemy frigate, barely scratching its shields. Not only could this ship dish out the damage, but it was withstanding everything I had to throw at it easily.

Another blast from its beam lasers, and my shields were gone. I checked my damage output; I had done 2% damage to my enemie’s shields. I was going to lose this fight and I knew it.

I broke to a close orbit, hoping that my transverse velocity might be too much for the enemy’s turrets to track; it was very unlikely in a frigate fight.

My impotent autocannons continued firing, not even scratching the shields of the Succubus this time. Its pilot activated a shield booster, and was quickly restored to 100% as I continued to watch my armour plates get shredded, flying into space behind me.

I was outclassed. I was outgunned. I was embarassed.

The Succubus broke off the engagement when I soon reached hull. Fleet chatter picked up.

“Alright, pay up.” Cytral said triumphantly. You could hear Doc and others groan, having lost their wager on me, their Fleet Commander and combat training officer. 

“I want a rematch in the Renegade, Cy.” I said, completely emasculated before my men.

“You kidding me Roc? I honestly thought you were going to win this one!” There was laughter in the fleet channel. I hadn’t had a chance. It was testament to my presence that so many had bet ten million isk a piece on me. 

“That’s a sweet ship, Cy. You could’ve let me know I was going to get spanked.” I said.

Cytral and company had recently ambushed some pirates, and the Succubus had been left intact, its original pilot having ejected to save his life. Cytral had his mechanics work hard on the ship to restore it to operational capacity, and it had paid off. 

It had cost him close to one hundred and twenty million isk to get it to its current functionality, but as was just demonstrated, it was worth it. I couldn’t imagine any other frigate being to withstand it. In fact, it would probably even hold its own against a cruiser class ship.

“Only thing I’d have on you would be range and speed, Cy.” I said, wanting the chance to redeem myself. “And even then, I honestly don’t know if I’d have sufficient damage output to break that tank. Damn, what a mean ship.”

More laughter in the fleet channel. It wasn’t laughter at me. I honestly believed we were all shocked by the result. I think it was more that nobody had seen me so completely ineffectual, and it was our friendships and respect for each other that allowed us to make light of it.

Still, I wanted payback. I hated losing to myself, and really that is what had happened here. Had I researched a little, I would’ve seen what the Succubus was capable of. She lived up to her name admirably. She was ugly to look at, but gave you pleasure you couldn’t possibly imagine. I didn’t like that the joy came at my expense.

“Either way, we’re taking that to the frontlines of the war, Cy. You in that, me in my Firetail; the Amarr wouldn’t stand a chance.” I said.

“Aye, that is something we can do.” Cytral replied.

We docked up after finishing our original task, each of us moving on to other duties. I found myself brooding over this more than I should’ve. 

I found myself wondering how exactly I would beat that ship next time.

Any ideas?

FREEFORM HQ
DAL SYSTEM

 The walls of HQ felt particularly bare that day. I had noticed the emptiness first thing as I returned from the gym in theearly AM. My heavy steps reverberated from the steel plate floors moreso than usual, distorted echoes playing across my ears. Much of the lighting system were off, many of the office doors locked; the place seemed abandoned.

Emergency lights winked to life briefly as I strode down the hallways, turning off automatically as I passed through each section to conserve power. Not a soul was to be seen.

Paintings had been taken down; plants had been removed or left to wither and die. Service droids and personnel had been laid off temporarily, or at least that was the hope. Even the door to the galley was locked, but my security code gave me access. Taking the sweaty towel from around my neck and placing it on a nearby counter, I rummaged through the corporate pantry, looking for something easy to eat, to satisfy my growling stomach. 

After forcing down some canned fruits and preserved jams, I proceeded to my office. The lights stayed off when I entered, but there was still power to my computer system.

“Aura, what’s going on?” I said, my voice booming throughout the emptiness unintentionally.

She flashed a corporate email to the center of the screen, which I touched to open. It was from Niko and Cytral, the Directors of Freeform Industries.

As I scanned the email, I was filled with mixed emotions. Truth be told, I could care less about the drama that had unfolded around me. I didn’t like being put in the middle of things. FullMetal Basilisk had been fired, forcefully removed from the corporation. Did I agree with the decision? Did it really matter what I thought? What was done, was done. And honestly, it didn’t affect me either way. It didn’t mean I couldn’t keep in contact with my friend. It didn’t mean I had betrayed any loyalties to the corp.

What I did find interesting was that 90% of our recent recruits had opted to resign from the corporation and go with Metal. I didn’t think it  something malevolent, something sinister that had been planned out; rather I took it as a testament to the type of man he was; others were compelled to follow him. It brought up other philosophical stirrings within my mind, but I couldn’t grasp their relevance at the time.

I continued scanning the mail, reading Cytral’s heartfelt plea to be patient as Freeform underwent radical internal restructuring, and his thanks for those of us sticking it out. For me, it was a matter of convenience. My role here was flexible and permissive, I pretty much did what I wanted, and was left to do so. Additionally, it had really lightened the recruitment spam I got hammered with in local. I guess the saddest part was, at least for me, was the reason I joined Freeform in the first place; in his video comm, Cytral really seemed to be an attractive chick. I was more than surprised when I finally met him face to face. I’d joked about it with others, and apparently I wasn’t the only one who had fallen prey to this gender mistake.

One final note got my attention in the email: All Corporate Hangars have been locked down until further notice.

That irritated me. What was left of the corp wasn’t here in Dal; in fact, I think I might’ve been the only one left in this branch office. I made my way to the hangar bays, and sure enough, my security access wasn’t enough to override the Director level lockdown. The thought crossed my mind to use my military credentials and have the doors forcibly overridden, but that would inevitably lead to more drama. Besides, the only thing kept in these bays was various ammo types. I kept my ships in my private and secured military hangar. 

Ah well, guess I would be buying ammo from the public market for a little while. It was probably good for the economy anyway. 

I took a quick shower in the corporate locker room, feeling the emptiness poignantly. In a way it was ironic, as for the most part I tended to avoid crowds and noticed that people generally got on my nerves quickly. I was quite content with my own company most of the time. And yet there was a wrongness about this type of emptiness. It was like some cataclysmic event had occured that everyone had been privy to but me. I was the one left behind while all other beings had fled pre-emptively to safety.

After changing into warm clothes, I sat back down in my office, reading some selections Aura had found for me based on a previous query I had made into the Socio-economic development of the Minmatar Republic. 

I had found myself drawn to the rich and varied history of our people recently, researching into our cultural limitations and diversities, gaining insights into where our struggles existed in our rise as a people, and where we still possessed weaknesses. It had been something Shakor had suggested to me recently; that I know where we had been in order to understand where we were going.

It reminded me of that Gigaer guy I had encountered a while back; he had said something along the same lines. But to be fair, I was enjoying the study. 

The Matari had an incredibly woven historical tapestry, and the more I read, the more I wanted to learn. Still, every man has his limits, and after only a few hours I found my eyes growing heavy, despite the early hour of the day.

There were no market orders for me to take care of. No inventory control. No flight assignments pending. No classes at our new academy. There was nothing for me to do here.

I checked my NeoCom for military intel. Seemed things were quiet on that front too. 

I let my breath blow out through my lips, wondering how I should spend my day. I just wasn’t in the mood to be alone. I thought about maybe heading to the Black Hole Pub, but even I had limits to when I would start drinking.

Finally, I commed Mynxee, expecting her to not be around, or to be too busy to take my call. Surprisingly, she answered quickly.

“Heya sugah.” Mynxee purred, immediately easing my mood. “How’s things?”

I told her everything that had been going on in the corp recently, my sincere lack of interest in it, and just my general feeling of abandon today. Really, I wanted a friend to talk to.

She told me about some of the various dramas she had endured with the Hellcats, and with the Bastards. Apparently RoninData ruled with an iron fist, but it worked for them. 

Finally she turned the subject to the fact that I was in an empty facility all by my lonesome, and came up with some very arousing ideas of how we could spend the day. She had administrative duties she needed to get done, but they could wait another day or two.

I really liked her playfulness, so eagerly accepted the offer.

A day alone to play with Mynxee would be just the thing to work this depressing funk out of my system.