Diary of a Pod Pilot

Friday Flash Fiction is an EVE Flash Fiction initiative hosted by Casiella Truza from Ecliptic Rift. Each Friday a prompt is presented, and the next Tuesday links to all stories are added to the original post. This week’s prompt is Crielere.

To the finder of this message,

I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve told my story to a new slave, or a curious slave child. I guess it is an obvious question, to wonder how a Gallente came to be one of them.

I tell them how I used to be a scientist, working at the Crielere Research Laboratories. I was a free man back then. I tell them what we did and what great discoveries we made, until shit hit the fan and the Guristas saw opportunity, twice even. When it comes to the second strike official reports talked only of the kidnapping of Touvolle and Umailen, but in truth many more of us were taken away. Suppose we weren’t important enough, or the whole story never got out. Maybe we were counted amongst the unidentified dead of the initial attack.

It took me a long while to come to terms with what happened, and in truth I still fully haven’t. I felt like I had died, even wished I had, because my life was brutally changed from one reality to another.

I’ve managed to take this paper and pen from the Scripture room, where we copy the Pax Amarria in traditional fashion. Seems to be a market for that. I’ve decided to write down my story and hide it in the spine of the copy I am working on now, in the hope that someone may find it and track me down. I am aware that if I am found out my punishment will be severe, but my conscience cannot bear not taking the risk any longer.

Please, I beg of you, find me and do what it takes to set me free.

Signed,

Jacques Amaert

Friday Flash Fiction is an EVE Flash Fiction initiative hosted by Casiella Truza from Ecliptic Rift. Each Friday a prompt is presented, and the next Tuesday links to all stories are added to the original post. This week’s prompt is Capital Ship Assembly Array.

It all started with minerals. Lots of minerals. So many minerals that jump freighters were sent to the Empire’s market hubs to pick up what the mining team could not provide for. And then the work started. Capital ship construction involves such large pieces that a hull cannot be made directly. Instead pieces — some of them large enough to compete with frigate and cruiser hulls in size — were built and brought up to the capital ship assembly array.

It is an extraordinary sight, to see a capital ship being built. From high up enough it looked like you were watching regular construction, if you counted out you could not see any humans, or even some of the heavy equipment they used, as it was simply too small to be perceived.

And when the hull was finally ready, and glided slowly into the void where its new owner waited eagerly to inspect his newest asset, feelings of joy and sadness were felt alike by all who helped create this masterpiece. Would it be well taken care off, perhaps even do good deeds, or be thrown on the line in the conquest for more space? But there was little time to dwell on these thoughts, as another order was waiting, and the cycle started again. Once more jump freighters will be sent out to the Empire’s market hubs to pick up what the mining team could not provide for.

Friday Flash Fiction is an EVE Flash Fiction initiative hosted by Casiella Truza from Ecliptic Rift. Each Friday a prompt is presented, and the next Tuesday links to all stories are added to the original post. This week’s prompt is “Should you be doing that?”.

“Should you be doing that?”, a voice echoed from behind him.

Turning around slowly he tried to look as composed as possible, while eyeing over the Civire woman. Arms crosses, feet slightly apart and an icy gaze gave away that she wasn’t amused.

“How many times must I repeat it to you rookies, if a part breaks you file a replacement order. We’ve been in dock for a whole week, there is no need for this Matari patch job”, she snapped.

“Apologies ma’am, the defect was only discovered half an hour ago, I was ordered to fix it as well as I could”, he replied, standing up and giving a salute.

She snatched the repair tool from the ground and pointed towards the front of the Badger Mark II’s hull. “I’ll take it from here, go assist the other rookies with something you can’t mess up. If the boss sees this it’ll be my head rolling. How a hole in the armor plating of this size hasn’t been discovered earlier is beyond me.”.

He nodded silently, gave another salute and marched off. Going against orders and leaving the hangar he hoped she would not discover the tracking device he had placed while posing as doing last-minute emergency repairs. Good thing the crew had so many new members lately that she never bothered to ask for his credentials, or she’d have something bigger to worry about than his crappy skills. His criminal record did link him to Guristas activity. And this was his chance for a promotion to membership.

Friday Flash Fiction is an EVE Flash Fiction initiative hosted by Casiella Truza from Ecliptic Rift. This week’s prompt is Polycarbon Engine Housing.

Jump. Select next stargate. Warp. It was routine for capsuleers,  and almost instinct for an amateur racer. But he wasn’t yet good enough to enter the official league, and he needed ISK. So he picked up the next best thing he was suited for: Booster smuggling. He didn’t ask, he didn’t care, all that mattered was getting the cargo from point A to point B without getting caught. Maneuverability was key and his ship got outfitted with Polycarbon Engine Housing rigs to aid him in this, which were also part of his pay. “Gate is clear”, the scout informed him. Jump. Select next stargate. Warp. He could already imagine his name listed on GalNet as captain of the next star team.

Friday Flash Fiction is an EVE Flash Fiction initiative hosted by Casiella Truza from Ecliptic Rift. Each Friday a prompt is presented, and the next Tuesday links to all stories are added to the original post. This week’s prompt is Etherium Reach.

Poverty and desperation are what had brought the crew of the civilian salvage vessel Cycle Of Life into the dangers of nulsec. With the Angels withdrawn from Skarkon life had returned to its old way and the Republic had sent some additional forces to make sure it would not happen again. For the salvage industry this was not a good thing as wrecks were what they made their living out of.

So Captain Osagard had come up with the idea of venturing into Etherium Reach and look for rogue drone wrecks in quiet systems. A risky undertaking, especially considering they did have the fancy salvage equipment capsuleers had and thus needed to send crew into the wreck, but if they would manage to get the right bits and pieces they would be able to live handsomely for the next period of time.

And they were in luck. With much effort and a few scares as capsuleers passed through the system they recovered the armor plating from a rogue drone that had perished in a belt. Each of them knew that easily went for 200k ISK on the market. Taking no further risk — rogue drones could come in any moment as well to check up on the wreck — they plotted a course back home. Matari courage would be celebrated with several rounds of ale at their favorite bar later that day.