Daul was five rows back and the mortar fire had already come. It had rained down from the sky in deathly silence and would have caught them off guard if some veteran in the front row hadn’t raised up his flak shield and set off a chain reaction that slowly progressed all the way through the ranks. It was better than it could have been, but some of them had still been late with their defenses, or put them up at an ineffective angle. They continued screaming even now, but Daul could hardly hear it anymore.

Daul was past the moment of fear. The nausea was gone, the tightness in his bowels. There was no way out, nowhere to run and hide. The forces had engaged. The mortars were proof of that. So now he was committed, and that lent him a peculiar type of calm. He was just waiting for it. Waiting to run forward to die or to live. That appeared to be his destiny. Now that he had marched up to the precipice, he found he could handle it.

He was not a large soldier, not the kind that reveled in battle. There were those around him that were. Brutors the size of mountains who considered the fray in a completely different perspective. It would take something special to bring them down, and they took the field with a reasonable expectation to be able to walk back off it when all was accounted for at the end.

Daul, on the other hand, was an average sized man. He was well trained and athletic, but this was his first battle, and he knew that there were those in the opposing army who had advantages of both size and experience. One strike was bad enough, two was unnerving. But as he had already concluded, there was no way out of it now, nowhere but forward to run.

Five rows back, he thought. Maybe, just maybe, the battle wouldn’t come to him. Maybe he could stay hidden behind his comrades.

He looked to his left and saw a mammoth Brutor with bulging muscle and a huge red beard smiling in anticipation. Something about that crazed look told him that he would be seeing action, that he wasn’t far enough back for security.

As one they started to move. Daul hadn’t heard any word of command, but the press of the bodies sent him forward. Shoulder to shoulder they crept along and Daul found that he could not allow himself to drift further back in the ranks as he had been secretly planning to. They were all too close, and they all pushed each other along as if they all shared the idea of the subtle retreat.

The walk became a jog, the jog a run, the run a sprint, and the exhilaration of the moment stirred his adrenaline. This was the battle. This was the moment of truth. And he felt the pounding of his heart in his ears and in the shortness of his breath. He resolved instantly that if this was to be his last accounting, it would be a good one, and he let loose with a wild scream that was picked up and repeated by the hoarse and nervous throats of the men beside him. His whoop became louder with their augmentation, and he picked up his own volume to pay greater homage to the cacophony they were creating.

Everything slowed in a sense. His eyes recorded the images that flashed before him. The color of the men. So stark and white against the grey suburbia and blue skies.

The feel of the concrete beneath his boots, rubble and debris littered everywhere. The sharpness of the air as he gasped for it, seeming to cut his throat as he drew it in. And then, the clash of the weapons from the lines ahead amidst the sounds of gunfire.

It was like standing in one place and watching a storm blow in. A sheet of water and darkness, chaos, the fist of nature, coming at you in a black wall and then swallowing you.

Daul struck out around him madly. Nothing came close. Nothing was allowed. Arms, hands, broken weapons, the moment they entered his field of vision he smashed them away with a strike from his slender vibro sword. He spun in circles, blindly, mud and blood tossed up from the foul below and smearing his face and clothing until he was an unrecognizable mass. He stood in one place, never advancing, and the battle came to him.

It thinned after a while, after an eternal minute. Daul had no idea how long it had been, but he knew he was exhausted, and that there was nobody close to him. Slowly, his senses returned. The berserker rage that had overcome him had spent itself, and his body had rightly decided that the best chance for survival lay again in absolute faith for the control of his reason. He stumbled forward, the throng just ahead. He surmised his comrades were the ones whose backs were to him.

Suddenly, out of the wall of flesh broke a single soldier. The enemy, he could tell by the color of his armour beneath the blood. He was frenzied and broken like a struggling deer. Young, like Daul, he broke from between two bodies and looked up one and down the other before ever turning his eyes forward. He was nose to nose with Daul before he ever noticed him in his path. Daul just stood there in shock, waiting for him to come.

The madness had left Daul, the killing instinct, and it had left this soldier as well. Daul was watching him keenly, but detached, as in a vision, as he stepped forward. The soldier seemed relieved to be out of the fray. He seemed overcome that the two pillars of men he had passed through had taken no heed of his escape. He finished looking behind him and turned his eyes forward, meeting the eyes of Daul.

Daul saw himself reflected. For the first time in this battlefield of lunacy and blood, he saw the watery blue of intelligence. There was a soul in those eyes, an understanding. This was a young soldier, like him, one that was only looking for a way out.

They paused, a fragile truce. They waited and drew nervous breath. Daul could see a pleading there, the desire to escape. Or so he thought. Was he just imagining it?

With that question the moment was broken and the brief tranquility was overwhelmed by a stampeding fear. It was a battle. This was the enemy.

The other soldier saw the change in Daul’s posture and started to react, but it was too late. The sword had already skewered him. The lifeless body slid down the blade, and Daul came face to face with the eyes again, the eyes that had pleaded for non-aggression.

He turned the sword down and to the side, the body slid off in silence. He had triumphed, he had slain his attacker. But he felt nothing but scorn and self-loathing. No words had been spoken, but this man had asked for a truce, and Daul had responded to the request with blood.

Daul was still standing there over the body when the battle ended.

The soldiers came walking back, picking their way through the bodies. Some in a daze, others joyous and relieved.

A meaty hand crashed down on Daul’s back.

“You’re first battle, right lad? Nice to see you‘ve made the cut.” It was the man-mountain with the fiery beard. “You’ve got a few tricks now, you’ll make it OK. The ones that survive their first battle, tend to make it all the way. Glad to have you with us.”

Daul didn’t make a response. He knew what the difference was between the ones that made it and the ones that didn’t. The ones that made it killed. They ignored the pleas for mercy in the enemies’ eyes, they accepted the rules of the situation they were in and didn’t waste energy on dreams for a peaceful future.

Daul looked up at the carnage and the brutes that surrounded him. This was his world, these were his people, the desolation and the foulness of the living.

He glanced down one last time at the body at his feet, peaceful in its death-mask, and as he turned to walk off the field of battle with the other grotesque and misshapen approximations of the living, he wondered who the real victor was.

Empress Jamyl Sarum glided effortlessly across the marble floor of the cavernous palatial corridor. Her clothing was of a nearly sheer material, speckled with reflective dust, form fitting in the right areas, wistfully flowing in others. She was young and beautiful, her unblemished skin radiating a golden aura. Her thick dark hair had the shine of good health. She was truly a magnificent creature. The marble floor and columns that lined this corridor were polished to mirror reflection, and seemed to absorb the warm light she emanated, even casting aside the shadows of the high arching ceiling far above. 

Bodyguards and attendants remained out of sight, but within a distance to act should the need arise; not everyone valued the Empress as they did. They were invisible to her, a mere formality, as she considered herself more than capable of dealing with any potential hostile act against her. 

She strode with royal confidence, an air of superiority, but not one of arrogance. She truly believed she was worthy of all respect, worship and adoration from the Empires. The only sound to be heard as she walked was the occasional touch of material against floor, such was her grace and poise. She was a living beacon of hope and truth; the ultimate symbol of beauty and elegance.

A large oak door opened as she neared it, revealing a grand bedchamber. The ceilings were high here as well, though not as lofty as the central corridor, with artistic murals painted on them. They were depictions of Amarrian history, of their various successful conquests and contributions to the galaxy. The bed itself was made of sturdy mahogany, and stood ten feet tall at the four corner posts. It was wide enough to sleep three people, though only one person lay upon its comfortable mattress now. 

He was wrapped in a warm duvet, his frame resting on thousand count Amarr cotton sheets. Four pillows supported his head and neck, made from the hairs of Amarr’s finest maidens. He breathed steady, strong breaths, a good indication of his recovery.

She approached the bedside, looking down at the man before her, then turning her attention to the various monitors and life support apparatus he was attached to. The regular ping of his heart monitor let her know he was indeed healing well, and she had gone to every length to ensure so. Beyond the best doctors and medicines, she had employed the services of her greatest mystics and healers to aid in his journey back to good health. 

She leaned towards him, inches from his unconscious form, breathing him in deeply, his face glowing in the light that was her. She could smell his power, his tenacity. She knew he would make a powerful ally once she had broken his significant will. 

As a testament to her appraisal of him, he stirred to consciousness, not making a sound as he surveyed his surroundings with his eyes. His head didn’t turn, nor did his body move, but his piercing eyes took in everything. He swallowed once before speaking.

“I can’t move.” He said. 

She placed her hand gently upon his forehead, caressing him tenderly, quietly shushing him as a mother would an ill child. “You were all but dead when we found you. You will regain the use of your body in time.” Her voice was melodic and mesmerizing, it was no wonder so many swooned under her power. Already, her guest found himself feeling the tug of her at his heart, his want for her, his desire to please her, to consume her. His heart rate quickened, and noticing this on the monitor, she smiled.

Her perfect lips parted only slightly, revealing straight white teeth. There was a slight moisture to her full lips, making them even more appetizing. He hungered for her already.

“Where am I?” He asked, his voice weak and scratchy.

They had found him aboard his ship not too long ago, his crew dead, as he should’ve been. It was a testament to his strength of will that he had survived the ordeal. For reasons unknown even to her at the time, she felt that instead of destroying what remained of his ship that she should save this man, that he would be a catalyst in her efforts to unite the Empires under her rule. 

“You are safe. You are in my palace, the heart of the Amarr Empire. My name is Jamyl.” She let her arms falls naturally to the sides of her body, her palms faced outwards in a gesture of welcome and non-aggression. Just the same, he reacted, his heart rate spiking.

“You bitch from the underbelly of the ninth hell. I would rather suffer a thousand deaths than even to have the memory of ever looking upon your wretchedness.” He screamed hoarsely.

Jamyl changed then, though it could not be seen by any other. The light that radiated from her was extinguished. Her skin turned from gold to black flame, enlarging her form as if she were a living shadow. She devoured all light from the room, plunging it into darkness and spiritual despair. Her eyes smoldered orange flame, and when she spoke next, venom dripped from her mouth, burning holes into the floor where it fell.

“You ungrateful cur! You dare to speak to me in such a tone?!” She hissed. “If it were not for me you would not exist at all. If it were not for me, you would have no use to this universe. I alone have chosen you. I alone have spared you. I AM YOUR GOD!”

The man in the bed shrank away from her, his eyes wide with shock. His heart rate continued to elevate, but no longer from desire; now it was from distress. She raised her arms high to her sides, continuing to devour life itself from the room, cackling a malevolent laugh that sent chills through the spine. 

“It is at MY whim that you live. It can be at my whim that you die. Choose your next words wisely, fool, as they may very well be your last.” Her voice echoed and reverberated throughout the room, casting dread upon it.

Without reason or warning, she shrank back into herself, the dark flames subsiding, her eyes return to their normal radiance. Her skin once more glowed its golden hue, and she fell to one knee, her gentle hand propped up against her forehead. 

She grunted in pain only once, then stood regally, smiling warmly down at the man in the bed.

His eyes darted back and forth, trying to make sense of all that occured within the last few moments. She seemed to not notice the silence, patiently waiting for him to take the intiative and speak.

Finally, he did. “Milady, my life is forfeit, save for serving you. I am your humble servant. What is thy will?”

She lay her hand across his forehead once more, consoling him. “Just rest, my brave warrior. I will need you whole to fulfill your destiny.”

She turned to leave, walking a few paces before stopping, looking around for something that could not be seen. She paused a moment, inhaling, her eyes closed. When she opened them again, they were smoldering flame, and she looked straight at the presence she had detected. She knew it was there; she could see right through it. An evil smile curled at her lips, and she pushed her will against the unwelcome trespasser.

—

Gigaer awoke in a sweat, immediately entering a meditative trance. The meditation was both to calm himself as well as to retain with crystal clarity every detail of the vision he had just experienced.

After a few moments of inward contemplation, he was satisfied that he had remembered everything, and began committing the dream to his journal. 

He wrote of the Empress. He wrote of the location. He wrote of the man in the bed, what was his name? He struggled with his memory, pushing aside the various puzzle pieces until he saw the single answer he sought, mentally plucking at it, bringing it to the forefront of his mind.

Ah yes, there it was. He wrote the name down, unclear of the meaning of any of this. 

Jamyl Sarum had rescued a man for some unknown purpose; a man by the name of Mako.

“C’mon, Colonel, time for you to go sleep it off.” The bartender gently positioned himself under my heavy frame, putting my arm around his neck, helping me to my feet.

It had been another good drinking binge. It was late, my mind felt disconnected from my body; I might’ve even be able to sleep. It wasn’t that I was feeling any undo stress of late and felt the need to drink; quite the opposite in fact. My life was in a very good place at that point in time and I merely was celebrating my enjoyment. 

The bartender patiently aided me until my legs recognized what was brain was saying, and graciously helped me out the front door. I put my hand against the wall, steadying myself as I staggered down the station’s promenade, ignoring the stern look of the occasional club going passerby. 

I was about forty feet from the Black Hole Pub when I heard the sound.

THUMP THUMP THUMP

I swayed my head around, everything going dizzy for a moment until my eyes focused on the front door to the pub. Just outside of the locked facility was a coffin. It made no sense to me, yet there it was.

THUMP THUMP THUMP

The coffin began moving towards me.

I wasn’t one to panic in almost any situation; and I certainly had no fear of death. Strangely, whether due to the booze, my fatigue, or some other nonsensical reason, I felt a surge of fear rise up within me. It was almost as if I knew that coffin was for me.

THUMP THUMP THUMP

I turned around, a spike of adrenaline coursing through me, and began running drunkenly down the promenade towards the turbo lifts to the military levels. 

THUMP THUMP THUMP

The coffin was gaining on me. I stumbled a couple of times looking back over my shoulder, but mostly managed to keep at a full run. My breathing was heavy and laboured. I could feel sweat profusely on my brow. 

I made it to the turbo lift and began jamming the ‘Call’ button with my index finger, all the while my eyes wide, looking back at the quickly approaching coffin.

THUMP THUMP THUMP

It was less than fifteen feet away when the lift finally arrived. I let the air out of my lungs with a sudden woosh, feeling lightheaded from unconsciously holding my breath, and ran into the lift, struggling to find my security card. 

THUMP THUMP THUMP

I dared not peer out of the lift, knowing from the increase in sound that the coffin was near. I managed to get my security card out and working, and leaned heavily against the glass doors of the lift once it had recognized my credentials and allowed me to input my desired level, the doors closing.

A pleasant melody played over the lift speakers, a soothing blend of lounge jazz and cheap keyboards. It’s funny the things you recall sometimes.

I felt myself nearly have a heart attack as the lift chimed its arrival at the military level I had requested, and only then realized that I had been nodding off. The booze in my system was doing its best to assist the coffin in its morbid task. 

I shook it off and exited the lift, turning down the corridor towards my quarters. My heartrate began normalizing as I walked, my fear subsiding. I chuckled to myself, convinced I had manufactured the vision of the coffin in my drunken stupor. I wasn’t as young as I used to be; maybe it was time to start taking it a bit easier on my body.

The lift chimed behind me. My mouth fell open and I stared in disbelief from twenty five feet away.

THUMP THUMP THUMP

The coffin came out of the lift, sounding even more menacing than before, if such a thing were possible. Naked terror washed over me and I sprinted for all I was worth away from the coffin down the corridor towards the military barracks. 

THUMP THUMP THUMP

The coffin was in hot pursuit.

My mind betrayed me then, drifting towards philosophical musings on my just and imminent fate, debating within itself the rightness and wrongness of my impending doom. I tried to shut the thoughts out, and focused every ounce of my willpower on making it to the safety of my quarters. 

THUMP THUMP THUMP

The coffin was relentless, closing the distance between us at an alarming pace.

I arrived at the main lobby of the barracks, and tried to stand still long enough for the retinal scanner to register me. Sweat poured into my eyes, causing the scanner to fail on its first two attempts. I slammed my open palm against the wall in frustration and dread.

THUMP THUMP THUMP

The coffin was nearly on top of me. 

I wiped my eyes with my sleeve, and opened them wide, praying for a miracle. The scanner pinged its confirmation of my identification and I hurredly made my way into the military barracks lobby, not pausing once enroute to my quarters.

THUMP THUMP THUMP

The coffin was in the lobby. I didn’t know how it was possible, but I had given up trying to reason any of this logically. I made it to my quarters, and pulled out my keys, dropping them onto the cold floor.

THUMP THUMP THUMP

I picked up my keys, fumbling with them until I finally managed to unlock the door before me. I entered my quarters, slamming the door behind, locking it securely before slowly backing up, wide eyed in shock, trembling my exertion and horror.

I could hear and feel my breathing. My clothes were saturated with sweat. I simply stood, knowing there was nowhere else to run. I took a deep breath, willing myself to calm down; forcing myself to believe it had only been a hallucination. 

Several minutes passed, and I took off my jacket, throwing it over a nearby chair. I held my hands to my head, massaging my temples, cursing aloud for allowing myself to be so out of control. 

THUMP THUMP THUMP

The coffin was right outside my door! I back peddled, tripping over a side table, landing hard on my ass. 

THUMP THUMP THUMP

The door to my quarters burst open, tearing from its hinges, the coffin not pausing as it lunged into the room like a starved predator.

I scurried backwards from it, knocking over a vase of flowers, kicking up a floor rug, finally getting my footing back and running towards my kitchen.

THUMP THUMP THUMP

I pulled open drawers, knocking their contents to the floor, doing anything and everything I could think of to slow the reaper hunting me.

THUMP THUMP THUMP

I kept running, past my bedroom, into the bathroom, locking the door behind me. I wedged myself between the toilet and shower, arming myself with a plunger.

THUMP THUMP THUMP

The bathroom door exploded into hundreds of  wood slivers. There was nowhere left to run. The coffin stood menacingly before me. I threw the plunger at it. I threw toilet paper at it. I threw my toothbrush at it. I grabbed everything within reach, bombarding the coffin with lavatory accruement. I threw shampoo at it. I threw my louffa at it. I threw painkiller medicine at it. I threw cough syrup at it.

The coffin stopped.

We all held our glasses high, encouraging our guest of honour to speak. Finally, he rose, beer in hand, and spoke. “I don’t even know where to begin.” Ombey said. “Roc, you’re a sunuvabitch for doing this, but thanks, really.” His comments elicited a few giggles. I simply nodded my head. 

I had booked the Black Hole Pub only hours earlier for a part of twenty, but as word had spread amongst the invitees, hundreds of fellow capsuleers had swarmed to Dal to be part of what was, for all intents and purposes, the last hurrah of Ombey. The pub had overfilled its capacity, having to shut the doors and call in additional staff. It had cost me some extra isk, but honestly, it was worth it. 

I had marines stationed at the doors to prevent any unwelcome guests (That means you, Amarr), and we had enjoyed a nice dinner and many rounds of drinks.

Ombey continued. “I’d like to thank you all for coming. I really didn’t know I had so many friends.” He spoke from his heart, with true humility. That was one of the most attractive things about this man. He was an accomplished pod pilot, an astro-cartographer, a Brutor and all around good guy. It was a shame to see him leaving this life.

“Some of you I know, some of you I don’t.” Ombey said. Looking around the room at the gathered crowd, I could understand his sentiment. I recognized some of the Hellcats and Bastards, some of Freeform Industries, and a few other military pilots I had flown with regularly like Yarly, but for the most part, the pilots here were unfamiliar. It was a further testament to how far reaching Ombey’s legacy was.

“How does one end the tale of immortality?” Ombey was an elegant speaker. He made it seem effortless. I found myself holding the man in even higher admiration. I wasn’t the only one hanging on his every word. All of us were silent, which for some more than others, was quite the accomplishment. 

“I’m simply tired of living, really.” He said. A few gasps went up at his bold statement, spoken with lack of emotion. Every being in the galaxy craved life; it was hard wired into us, even capsuleers. That pure instinct of suvival that drove us to do things otherwise not possible, all in the vain attempt to preserve ourselves.

“No, no.” Ombey continued. “I love life to its fullest. It’s just that I’m tired of this life, of this eternal cycle we’re tethered to. I’ve fought the fights, I’ve been victorious, I’ve ended up in the cloner. I’m starting to see my friends and family grow old, and honestly, I just want to grow old with them, enjoy the simpler things New Eden has to offer. Maybe I’ll have a family of my own one day.”

His last comment struck a chord within all of us. While cloning technology was a magnificent accomplishment, we were told up front that one of its limitations was reproduction. The process had been known to render some sterile, even though each clone was a perfect genetic match of the original host. It was one of the many costs of immortality; you could live forever, but you would more than likely do so alone. It made you wonder if there really was a god; and if there was, had he abandoned us long ago due to our blasphemies?

We had all dreamed of living one single life. We had all envisioned what we do if we weren’t who we were. There had been some in the past whom had retired from this lifestyle in pursuit of simple peace. Many couldn’t cope with the mundane life of normality, killing themselves rather than suffer their cruel fate any longer. Being disconnected could be unbearable. Some had simply returned to the life they knew, inserting themselves into pods once again. Others were never heard from. At the time, I remember being curious as to which Ombey would be, but rest assured that evening wasn’t the end of his adventures in New Eden.

Ombey continued. “I want to go fishing. I want to have a small cabin in the hills, somewhere quiet where I can relax and live out my days in harmony. I’ve given this life everything I have, every last ounce of my focus. I’ve simply come to the point where my heart wants to focus on something else, and it’s something I cannot ignore.”

I could respect the man that. I was a firm believer in following your heart. After all, if your heart wasn’t in your pursuits, how successful could you really be in the end? Sure, you could amass power and wealth, but if you couldn’t sleep contentedly each night what good was it?

“I’d like to toast each of you, to the work you do, whether it’s pirating, fighting in the war, running a corporation, or simply hanging out at the local pub with friends…” A hearty ‘yarrr!’ went up from Venom. We all chuckled at her. “You are what makes New Eden the advanced civilization it is. You are what brings hope to the Empires. You are what will see us all living in the future we collectively dream of; an era of peace and prosperity. I salute you!”

With that, he rose his glass, as did we all. After finishing a long guzzle of my beer, I stood. Many stood with me as I saluted Ombey. Pirates, rogues, and others all offered their salute at the table that night until finally, Ombey, overwhelmed by the appreciation of all of us, returned our salute smiling, small tears visibly streaming from under his shades.

“Fly safe, Ombey.” I said.

“Fly safe.” Everyone repeated in unison.

The rest of the evening was one of celebration; tales were told, laughter shared, and by the time people started heading back to their home systems, I knew it had all been worthwhile.

I wished Ombey the very best. I encouraged him in his dreams of a simple life. “No, you can’t have my stuff”, he had said to me, and we both laughed. I gave him a full embrace, and thanked him for the honour of having known him. 

Mynxee sidled up beside me as I ordered another beer from the bar. “You’re a good man, Roc.” She said with that look in her eye. You know the one I’m talking about. Part seduction, part aggression. It confuses any man really. You want her, but you’re terrified of her. 

“Thanks Mynx.” I replied, taking the first sip of my new drink. “But I didn’t do it for me.”

“I know.” She smiled that heart melting smile, and walked away back to the other Hellcats. I couldn’t help but stare as she moved, enjoying the view of her ass in those tight shiny red pants. There was a certain look about the way she walked, a certain enticement. 

Mynxee was definitely forbidden fruit if ever there was such a thing. She looked back over her shoulder, and caught me staring. I turned away quickly, but not fast enough to avoid the crimson flush of embarassment to my face. Damn that woman.

I caught Ombey’s eye, and we exchanged glances. He raised his eyebrows and tilted his head towards Mynxee, encouraging me to make my move.

I raised my glass to him, and he returned the gesture, a wide smile across his face.

Fly safe, Ombey. Fly safe. I thought to myself.

And as I headed towards Mynxee and the other Hellcats, I somehow knew Ombey was wishing me the very same.