Part 1: Welcome Back
Part 2: The Goodness of Our Heart
Part 3: The many deaths of Kendar Zek
Kendar had died before, several times. Like many capsuleers, he had been killed in space, safely awakening as a pre-arranged clone with his memories intact. He had also, like many of Intaki descent, been reborn a new man, to the mixed blessings of pain forgotten. But unlike many people, he had found fiery death in a sun and ultimately, peaceful oblivion in his sleep.
Death was not new to him.
His answer was always the same: get up, let's go.
Kendar switched the desk off and straightened up. Enough for the day. He had recovered fifty million ISK already, mostly from the DNA-authorized deposits. He had spent eight hours plugged in dreaming and studying his own life, passion and deaths. Apparently he had a knack for getting killed and losing his mind, so in some way it was comforting to know he had gone through the same recovery ordeal before, and survived. Sort of.
It was a month already since waking up as a clone, and Kendar had dutifully followed his daily regime. Morning therapy, a couple of hours at the machine, then study the dossier, lunch. An afternoon nap to let his brain rest and sleep to weave his newfound memories back onto his rag of a brain. After the nap, he would work until evening therapy, dinner, free time, sleep.
Now, work entailed putting his frayed memory to use. He would interact with the outside world based on what he remembered. Baby steps, had recommended Coat.
The impersonal was easy; talking to banks and people who did not care whether he was Ken Zek, King Khanid or the Spirit of Emperors past. He would just provide DNA proof and they would be happy.
It was harder to talk to people who cared. Secor, usually as together as two peas in a pod, almost broke down at first when he saw him on the holo. That was shortly before becoming impossibly defensive -who could blame him, anyway. He had not spoken to Takashi yet. Maybe he had read the news on the forums, but talking face-to-face was what mattered.
The hardest part was the unexpected. People that Ken was supposed to care deeply about: there were none that he remembered, nothing in the dossier. Yet names of strangers kept popping up as he talked to people he knew.
"Have you talked to Ambriel?" had asked someone.
Ken did not have a clue who that was. Her name was not in the file, not a single reference and -surprise, surprise- he did not remember. So he got her contact and tried calling her next. Five minutes later, an uncontrollably sobbing woman had hung up on him.
Fiancée? How could they have missed that?
--
Doctor Kraak looked at the monitors, then back at the call reports. Kenny was progressing as expected. Of course he would hit a snag here and there, something unexpected would pop up once in a while. Nothing that next morning's therapy could not fix.
For Kendar's peace of mind, they had had a Talk. Not unlike a father-son talk, he smiled, the child needed careful guidance. He had warned Kendar that not everyone would receive him with open arms; some would be distrustful, some openly hostile. He should keep in mind that his recovery was supposed to be distressing for others. Very.
Now, there were unscrupulous people in the world. Some would even go as far as to try to get advantage over him, claiming some sort of privileged relation of friendship or, god forbid, love. He should beware of any long-lost cousin, flame, attorney, fiancée or wife. Oh, one had popped up already? And not in the dossier? It could be real or it could be a scam. Better be careful about that. It would be investigated, of course, he promised.
And promptly forgotten, tomorrow first thing in the morning.
Kraak's attention went back to a more mundane issue; where had he put his wallet?
--
Kendar had spent too much time without a drink. He needed a drink.
Heck, he needed a woman.
He had been disappointed not to find 'Kendar Zek's little black book' in the dossier. That would have been grand, not just because of the fun but because it could probably help him remember. He noticed that small shift in his priorities and welcomed another piece of himself back home. In any case, not all was lost. He called out to the comms and asked for the 'S' screen - Sugar...
No, wait. 'M' screen, Martens.
She had turned him down already so many times, saying she could be Nurse Martens, honey, and nothing else. But unruly patients happened once in a while. Kendar would not take 'no' for an answer, the next day he would be back and be twice as charming. By now, he had a feeling he was getting really close...
"Call Martens."
Get up, let's go.
--
They laughed as they reached her door.
"That was fun!"
"Yes. I can't remember when was the last time I had so much fun. And I mean it," he grinned, as he pulled her closer to him.
She looked at him "I think I should go now. Goodnight, Ken, and thank you."
No night cap? No way. "You heartless woman, you are killing me. I don't think I will survive," he said in mock pain.
"Of course you will, silly..."
It suddenly hit him. "Actually now that I think of it, I am dying. I was ill, I am only back for a while, am I not?" he asked, this time honestly.
"No, you are not. Did he not tell you? You are not going to die on us," she replied with a smile.
It was an innocent statement and, while technically true, she would not realize the seriousness of the mistake until too late. He would not die.
He was surprised.
She then stood on the tip of her toes and kissed him.
15 February 2009
11 February 2009
More political rants, and...
Échecs is an Amarrian game of strategy. It is played on a square board divided in 64 tiles, where two opposing but equal armies fight.
The Amarr call it Chess.
I have dropped by the Daredevil'ls Lounge a few times since that discussion, and I have met that Amarrian militia commander twice again.
The first time was so very brief - she was walking in as I was walking out, on my way to a study all-nighter. Somehow she managed to convey an entire evening of nasty in a couple of sentences, it is amazing how she can turn the slightest word back on you as a blunt weapon.
Wanting to part on a different tone, I turned around and, ah, challenged her to this game which I learned in high-school when I was living in the Empire -I will tell you about that some other day. Our little game started with:
White: Pawn to fourth Queen's
She just looked at me, surprised. I thought it would be nice gesture? I mean, she should feel right at home, non? Chess is an Amarrian game. It has Bishops.
The next time we met, she had an unexpected answer to my gambit:
Black refuses to play chess. It is a game for her true Amarrian betters.
Apparently, being Khanid, she is either not supposed or not allowed to play. (Clever move by the way, had she not she clarified which betters, I would have had a field day, right there.) What does race have to do with what you are allowed to play, and with whom?
White suggests that, if Black is not allowed, naturally she should try the game in secret.
Haha! Okay, I must admit I sort of intentionally over-do the Gallentean airhead thing when she is around and I know, I know, this probably strengthens whatever stereotype she has of us. It also drives her nuts. Sorry girls, but you should really see the faces she makes! I am térrible...
Black so chastises White for her lack of proper manners :)
I think that what she was actually trying to say was actually "We are all slaves. We know our place, and so should you." Whichever way you take it, it is nothing but sad. Talk about reinforcing stereotypes.
White orders a drink and so does Black.
It was a draw.
Nonetheless the the evening went on, others joined and we all discussed other stuff including checkers -which she can play,- racing and wine, while enjoying some nice drinks at the bar. The point was, you can actually have a conversation with an Amarrian, in spite of all the differences.
I think I even got some cheer out of her as I left.
--
On a different note, Jude was at the bar and offered to walk me out to the flight deck. Again. I do not know what is wrong with him, but I think we may have just airlocked a relationship. Not that there was much of one anyway. Oh, well... No regrets.
The Amarr call it Chess.
I have dropped by the Daredevil'ls Lounge a few times since that discussion, and I have met that Amarrian militia commander twice again.
The first time was so very brief - she was walking in as I was walking out, on my way to a study all-nighter. Somehow she managed to convey an entire evening of nasty in a couple of sentences, it is amazing how she can turn the slightest word back on you as a blunt weapon.
Wanting to part on a different tone, I turned around and, ah, challenged her to this game which I learned in high-school when I was living in the Empire -I will tell you about that some other day. Our little game started with:
White: Pawn to fourth Queen's
She just looked at me, surprised. I thought it would be nice gesture? I mean, she should feel right at home, non? Chess is an Amarrian game. It has Bishops.
The next time we met, she had an unexpected answer to my gambit:
Black refuses to play chess. It is a game for her true Amarrian betters.
Apparently, being Khanid, she is either not supposed or not allowed to play. (Clever move by the way, had she not she clarified which betters, I would have had a field day, right there.) What does race have to do with what you are allowed to play, and with whom?
White suggests that, if Black is not allowed, naturally she should try the game in secret.
Haha! Okay, I must admit I sort of intentionally over-do the Gallentean airhead thing when she is around and I know, I know, this probably strengthens whatever stereotype she has of us. It also drives her nuts. Sorry girls, but you should really see the faces she makes! I am térrible...
Black so chastises White for her lack of proper manners :)
I think that what she was actually trying to say was actually "We are all slaves. We know our place, and so should you." Whichever way you take it, it is nothing but sad. Talk about reinforcing stereotypes.
White orders a drink and so does Black.
It was a draw.
Nonetheless the the evening went on, others joined and we all discussed other stuff including checkers -which she can play,- racing and wine, while enjoying some nice drinks at the bar. The point was, you can actually have a conversation with an Amarrian, in spite of all the differences.
I think I even got some cheer out of her as I left.
--
On a different note, Jude was at the bar and offered to walk me out to the flight deck. Again. I do not know what is wrong with him, but I think we may have just airlocked a relationship. Not that there was much of one anyway. Oh, well... No regrets.
08 February 2009
Racing Blind
October 109, Season 4, ISGC race 2
Mehatoor gate, Raa system
"They are in local!"
They piled on the window. The gate crew at the constellation border had been hoping for this all day. No matter how good the ISGC holo feed was, nothing beat the view out the window, that simple fact that they were there looking at the ships playing tag among the stars and not a computer-generated image floating in your living room or your office. You never knew in advance, you could only hope the race would come your way... but now it was a fact: they had track-side seats.
"Guys he is on scan, he is on scaaan! 14 AU and closing... wow, that was fast!" The scan operator ran towards the rest of the group gathering at the observation ports. The windows had barely enough space for everyone.
Outside, a Malediction-class interceptor slowed down from warp as its AI silently negotiated with the tower, retracted its camera drone and jumped through the gate.
Takashi Kurosawa was in the lead.
---
On board the Poison Apple
It had been a good race so far, my best since switching to the interceptor class. Tak was still in local, which meant he had 40 seconds lead or less on me. I had seen Else warp off just some... 5 seconds ahead of me? I could close that. Maybe not. Second or third place, huh? Not too bad.
Plus, I was going to beat the champion. Kay was nowhere near us. Yet.
---
ISGC holo feed
"And here he comes, we have a live feed on the far side, the gate in Mehatoor, and we can see Kurosawa warping off to the last waypoint of this race. I must say, Doug, this looks to be a great start of the season for the Venture Racing Team!"
"Yes, Bob, he is not only doing very well himself, but they have managed to recruit top pilots too. Remember Elsebeth Rhiannon was one of the original veterans back in Season 1. And speaking of her, we have some gating information coming in..." Twenty seconds after the lead racer had left, the gate flashed twice jumping an Ares and then a Malediction through.
The Ares aligned to the star, then floated motionless in space.
"Can you explain to our viewers, Doug, what is happening to Rhiannon's ship, is she having technical difficulties?"
"She is not having trouble, Bob, she is actually waiting for team captain Kurosawa to approach and tag the waypoint; she will then lock onto his beacon and warp directly on top, saving approach time. This is the 'warp train' maneuver and, by the looks of it, VRT has made good use of it this race."
As if on cue the Ares racer came to life and warped off; the holo focused on the Malediction drifting in space.
"Doug, we see now Catherine Delorois, last season's frigates champion, in a close fight with Rhiannon for second place today. What is she doing now? Is she too waiting for a beacon?"
"Bob, I believe she is in trouble..."
---
On board the Poison Apple
My heart sank as I tried the map again, then the cam with no luck. I still had my overview but the rest or the view was noise.
Waypoint fifteen was at a star, so I had switched to solar system view right before gating. The idea was, it would save me a couple of seconds on the far side as I warped directly on the map, instead of having to look for the star using the camera. You have no idea how wasteful it is to look for a star with the cam and I so wanted that second place.
Yet, using the cam instead of the map was exactly what I should have done.
Somehow, on the far side the solar system map was dead, the drone cam was dead, the map was dead, everything but the overview. I could move and approach and warp anywhere... Anywhere but the star. My racing overview does not have stars on it.
"Searaph I'm blind, guide me!"
He sounded surprised on comms "Say again, Quin?"
"I can't see the star, I can't warp to it!" I answered in frustration.
"Look for the big bright thing in the middle."
Ha, ha. Funny. "I can't see, something is broken, everything is broken! How far out are you?"
"Right behind you Quin, on my way."
---
ISGC holo feed
"See, Rhiannon was waiting for the VRT point man to tag the waypoint. Delorois is Scuderia Caille's point right now so she has no one to lock onto. We cannot say what kind of trouble she is experiencing, but a spike in comms for the Caille team suggest it is, in fact, a technical issue."
"Doug, we cut to a live feed from the finish line, where Kurosawa is about to dock."
---
Raa gate, Mehatoor system
The wounded Malediction tumbled, slowly.
The control tower crowd hollered. A fan with a green Caille tree hat screamed "You go, Go, GO, show them! Allez Caille!" It was agony. At least the guys on the other side had seen a good show and a chase; on this side they were witnessing a wreck floating in space.
The gate flashed twice again. A Claw decloaked, aligned and warped in the direction of the Star, followed closely by a blue-gold-red Dragonstar Ares. Some fans started to quietly move away from their vantage window spots, shaking their heads.
---
ISGC holo feed
"And that was Kayleigh Jamieson of Dragonstar Racing Team, just overtaking Delorois who is now in the fourth, no, fifth place. I cannot believe this! I repeat, the reigning interceptors champion, Jamieson, has recovered to overtake Delorois and is now going after Searaph for the last waypoint! I wonder what is wrong with Caille?"
"Bob, we may at this point say that she is having major technical issues. It is not normal, nor safe for a racer to stay at a gate for so long, close to low security space. Clearly the Scuderia captain has had a major breakdown."
"I will remind our viewers that Catherine Delorois, piloting ship number 17 on your holo, has recently switched from racing frigates to interceptors. This is her third interceptor race, and likely the third race in a row that she fails to achieve podium. Doug, do you think she is out of her depth? Was it a mistake for her to switch to the interceptor class?"
"It is way too early in the season to say and this is definitely going to hurt her scores, but let's give her the benefit of doubt. Racing interceptors is not the same thing as racing frigates and many pilots learn this the hard way. And I have to say, this looks like one painful lesson."
"Do you think she has any chance to recover that third place?"
"No, not at this point. She will be lucky if she is able to finish at all..."
---
On board the Poison Apple
"Searaph at waypoint in five," he said, "Kay is here."
"Whatever, warping now," I said, "let's hope you are at the can." Okay, being beaten by the champion was one thing, but I could not let the rest of them do that too. It would be too much for a race that good. That had been that good... Floating inside my pod, I crossed my fingers.
Warp, warp warp warp. Warped.
I landed right on top of the waypoint can. Approach, open, password, orbit and wait. While I waited, the comms confirmed that both Tak and Else were docked. So quick? Oh, finish station must have been in that very system.
My overview blinked as both Kay and Searaph warped off. Her, then Searaph. You go girl, good for you. Bummer for my team. Searaph would have beaten her if not for my glitch but, as it were, she was beating the crap out of both of us.
---
Mehatoor I - Ministry of Internal Order Logistic Support
The after-race cocktail was livelier than ever, everyone chattering was still riding that adrenaline high, gesturing with their hands high in the air and laughing. It had been a very close finish, upsets occurring from start to finish and podium had not been decided until the last moment. Indeed, we lost third place to Dragonstar by a mere three seconds. Venture beat us by a full two minutes. One of those minutes was my fault.
Caille techs would confirm later that my camera drone hit the CONCORD billboard as it was called back early, starting some sort of failure cascade within my pod. CONCORD would bill us for billboard damage. Two plus two... Never call solar system map right before the gate.
But right then, the race was just over and we had beaten half a field of pros. We were doing well but it could have been better. It would be better. Pushing the race aside in my mind -it was time to enjoy the evening- I got ready. People wanted to meet the face of the newbie team, some wanted to rub salt on the wound and one, one probably wanted to hit on me. Before anything else, I looked across the room to find my friend and adversary's gaze, raised my glass of Auvergne and smiled warmly.
Good race, Kay. But I am totally going to get you, sometime...
---
ISGC holo feed
"This is Doug Chevalier."
"And this is Robert Bouchard, signing off. Don't miss the race report this week, and see you all next race for the Industrial exhibition event!"
Mehatoor gate, Raa system
"They are in local!"
They piled on the window. The gate crew at the constellation border had been hoping for this all day. No matter how good the ISGC holo feed was, nothing beat the view out the window, that simple fact that they were there looking at the ships playing tag among the stars and not a computer-generated image floating in your living room or your office. You never knew in advance, you could only hope the race would come your way... but now it was a fact: they had track-side seats.
"Guys he is on scan, he is on scaaan! 14 AU and closing... wow, that was fast!" The scan operator ran towards the rest of the group gathering at the observation ports. The windows had barely enough space for everyone.
Outside, a Malediction-class interceptor slowed down from warp as its AI silently negotiated with the tower, retracted its camera drone and jumped through the gate.
Takashi Kurosawa was in the lead.
---
On board the Poison Apple
It had been a good race so far, my best since switching to the interceptor class. Tak was still in local, which meant he had 40 seconds lead or less on me. I had seen Else warp off just some... 5 seconds ahead of me? I could close that. Maybe not. Second or third place, huh? Not too bad.
Plus, I was going to beat the champion. Kay was nowhere near us. Yet.
---
ISGC holo feed
"And here he comes, we have a live feed on the far side, the gate in Mehatoor, and we can see Kurosawa warping off to the last waypoint of this race. I must say, Doug, this looks to be a great start of the season for the Venture Racing Team!"
"Yes, Bob, he is not only doing very well himself, but they have managed to recruit top pilots too. Remember Elsebeth Rhiannon was one of the original veterans back in Season 1. And speaking of her, we have some gating information coming in..." Twenty seconds after the lead racer had left, the gate flashed twice jumping an Ares and then a Malediction through.
The Ares aligned to the star, then floated motionless in space.
"Can you explain to our viewers, Doug, what is happening to Rhiannon's ship, is she having technical difficulties?"
"She is not having trouble, Bob, she is actually waiting for team captain Kurosawa to approach and tag the waypoint; she will then lock onto his beacon and warp directly on top, saving approach time. This is the 'warp train' maneuver and, by the looks of it, VRT has made good use of it this race."
As if on cue the Ares racer came to life and warped off; the holo focused on the Malediction drifting in space.
"Doug, we see now Catherine Delorois, last season's frigates champion, in a close fight with Rhiannon for second place today. What is she doing now? Is she too waiting for a beacon?"
"Bob, I believe she is in trouble..."
---
On board the Poison Apple
My heart sank as I tried the map again, then the cam with no luck. I still had my overview but the rest or the view was noise.
Waypoint fifteen was at a star, so I had switched to solar system view right before gating. The idea was, it would save me a couple of seconds on the far side as I warped directly on the map, instead of having to look for the star using the camera. You have no idea how wasteful it is to look for a star with the cam and I so wanted that second place.
Yet, using the cam instead of the map was exactly what I should have done.
Somehow, on the far side the solar system map was dead, the drone cam was dead, the map was dead, everything but the overview. I could move and approach and warp anywhere... Anywhere but the star. My racing overview does not have stars on it.
"Searaph I'm blind, guide me!"
He sounded surprised on comms "Say again, Quin?"
"I can't see the star, I can't warp to it!" I answered in frustration.
"Look for the big bright thing in the middle."
Ha, ha. Funny. "I can't see, something is broken, everything is broken! How far out are you?"
"Right behind you Quin, on my way."
---
ISGC holo feed
"See, Rhiannon was waiting for the VRT point man to tag the waypoint. Delorois is Scuderia Caille's point right now so she has no one to lock onto. We cannot say what kind of trouble she is experiencing, but a spike in comms for the Caille team suggest it is, in fact, a technical issue."
"Doug, we cut to a live feed from the finish line, where Kurosawa is about to dock."
---
Raa gate, Mehatoor system
The wounded Malediction tumbled, slowly.
The control tower crowd hollered. A fan with a green Caille tree hat screamed "You go, Go, GO, show them! Allez Caille!" It was agony. At least the guys on the other side had seen a good show and a chase; on this side they were witnessing a wreck floating in space.
The gate flashed twice again. A Claw decloaked, aligned and warped in the direction of the Star, followed closely by a blue-gold-red Dragonstar Ares. Some fans started to quietly move away from their vantage window spots, shaking their heads.
---
ISGC holo feed
"And that was Kayleigh Jamieson of Dragonstar Racing Team, just overtaking Delorois who is now in the fourth, no, fifth place. I cannot believe this! I repeat, the reigning interceptors champion, Jamieson, has recovered to overtake Delorois and is now going after Searaph for the last waypoint! I wonder what is wrong with Caille?"
"Bob, we may at this point say that she is having major technical issues. It is not normal, nor safe for a racer to stay at a gate for so long, close to low security space. Clearly the Scuderia captain has had a major breakdown."
"I will remind our viewers that Catherine Delorois, piloting ship number 17 on your holo, has recently switched from racing frigates to interceptors. This is her third interceptor race, and likely the third race in a row that she fails to achieve podium. Doug, do you think she is out of her depth? Was it a mistake for her to switch to the interceptor class?"
"It is way too early in the season to say and this is definitely going to hurt her scores, but let's give her the benefit of doubt. Racing interceptors is not the same thing as racing frigates and many pilots learn this the hard way. And I have to say, this looks like one painful lesson."
"Do you think she has any chance to recover that third place?"
"No, not at this point. She will be lucky if she is able to finish at all..."
---
On board the Poison Apple
"Searaph at waypoint in five," he said, "Kay is here."
"Whatever, warping now," I said, "let's hope you are at the can." Okay, being beaten by the champion was one thing, but I could not let the rest of them do that too. It would be too much for a race that good. That had been that good... Floating inside my pod, I crossed my fingers.
Warp, warp warp warp. Warped.
I landed right on top of the waypoint can. Approach, open, password, orbit and wait. While I waited, the comms confirmed that both Tak and Else were docked. So quick? Oh, finish station must have been in that very system.
My overview blinked as both Kay and Searaph warped off. Her, then Searaph. You go girl, good for you. Bummer for my team. Searaph would have beaten her if not for my glitch but, as it were, she was beating the crap out of both of us.
---
Mehatoor I - Ministry of Internal Order Logistic Support
The after-race cocktail was livelier than ever, everyone chattering was still riding that adrenaline high, gesturing with their hands high in the air and laughing. It had been a very close finish, upsets occurring from start to finish and podium had not been decided until the last moment. Indeed, we lost third place to Dragonstar by a mere three seconds. Venture beat us by a full two minutes. One of those minutes was my fault.
Caille techs would confirm later that my camera drone hit the CONCORD billboard as it was called back early, starting some sort of failure cascade within my pod. CONCORD would bill us for billboard damage. Two plus two... Never call solar system map right before the gate.
But right then, the race was just over and we had beaten half a field of pros. We were doing well but it could have been better. It would be better. Pushing the race aside in my mind -it was time to enjoy the evening- I got ready. People wanted to meet the face of the newbie team, some wanted to rub salt on the wound and one, one probably wanted to hit on me. Before anything else, I looked across the room to find my friend and adversary's gaze, raised my glass of Auvergne and smiled warmly.
Good race, Kay. But I am totally going to get you, sometime...
---
ISGC holo feed
"This is Doug Chevalier."
"And this is Robert Bouchard, signing off. Don't miss the race report this week, and see you all next race for the Industrial exhibition event!"
Racing Series
See what happened before
See what happened next
See what happened before
See what happened next
06 February 2009
All your base are belong to no one
By now, everyone has heard the news.
BOB, the meanest alliance in the cluster, has been dealt a mortal blow by Goonswarm, the biggest alliance in known space. No, not mortal. Huge, but not mortal.
Thousands of pilots are involved. Corporate theft, espionage, sabotage, backstabbing, all-out fighting. Evacuations to safety, defections, brave last stands, a desperate rush in defence of an empire just fallen. Barbarians at the gates. A chance of rebirth. Enemies gathering to move in and conquer -will they spread too thin? Allies in panic. Scavengers move in like vultures to pick on remains that belong to no one. Things will be theirs... or maybe no one's. Scorched space.
It's war. What's going to happen?
It is up to them, the pilots. It's about the people, not the spaceships.
((The more I think of it, the more it looks like a player-driven game expansion.))
Go with the flow.
Change.
Now, go play ;)
BOB, the meanest alliance in the cluster, has been dealt a mortal blow by Goonswarm, the biggest alliance in known space. No, not mortal. Huge, but not mortal.
Thousands of pilots are involved. Corporate theft, espionage, sabotage, backstabbing, all-out fighting. Evacuations to safety, defections, brave last stands, a desperate rush in defence of an empire just fallen. Barbarians at the gates. A chance of rebirth. Enemies gathering to move in and conquer -will they spread too thin? Allies in panic. Scavengers move in like vultures to pick on remains that belong to no one. Things will be theirs... or maybe no one's. Scorched space.
It's war. What's going to happen?
It is up to them, the pilots. It's about the people, not the spaceships.
((The more I think of it, the more it looks like a player-driven game expansion.))
Go with the flow.
Change.
Now, go play ;)
05 February 2009
One month blogging
So I am still here, one month after starting to blog.
So far, loads of fun, and many interesting people around. This being my first blog also, so I have been learning stuff. I have found that my original fears of not having anything to write about were unfounded... if anything, I think I am posting a bit too much, a bit too fast. I need to slow down.
Then again... slow down?
I am happy I have eight followers already, it is cool to see people finding this little blog of mine interesting enough to look at. Can you guys make anything out of my babbling? I promise to get the caffeine squirrel thing under control.
I am making friends in the blogo-sphere. We chat here and there, exchange blog comments, and I get to stick my foot in my mouth once in a while. Sorry about that.
It's also a good thing that I am setting my ideas in order. See, I usually have several movies playing in my mind at the same time, some of them in EVE, and have never had a good outlet to set them free. Lagged in Odotte was a favorite idea I never wrote until now (based on a real life drama), as are the Ken Clone stories (what happens when a clone goes wrong? These will be especially fun to those who know Ken -for those who don't, Ken was actually biomassed- and actually I discussed the idea with him some time ago. Keep watching, part 4 brings the goodies). I am a sucker for clones.
Some of the stuff I am posting is older and originally posted elsewhere (Wildcards, Shipswitch). I will eventually run out of these but I think these belong here as well, to explain background, and just in case some forums go down.
Hmmm, I think I am posting too much fiction, and it's all over the place. I need to do something about that. More 'now,' less 'then' or 'what if.'
New month resolutions:
Cheers! -Q
So far, loads of fun, and many interesting people around. This being my first blog also, so I have been learning stuff. I have found that my original fears of not having anything to write about were unfounded... if anything, I think I am posting a bit too much, a bit too fast. I need to slow down.
Then again... slow down?
I am happy I have eight followers already, it is cool to see people finding this little blog of mine interesting enough to look at. Can you guys make anything out of my babbling? I promise to get the caffeine squirrel thing under control.
I am making friends in the blogo-sphere. We chat here and there, exchange blog comments, and I get to stick my foot in my mouth once in a while. Sorry about that.
It's also a good thing that I am setting my ideas in order. See, I usually have several movies playing in my mind at the same time, some of them in EVE, and have never had a good outlet to set them free. Lagged in Odotte was a favorite idea I never wrote until now (based on a real life drama), as are the Ken Clone stories (what happens when a clone goes wrong? These will be especially fun to those who know Ken -for those who don't, Ken was actually biomassed- and actually I discussed the idea with him some time ago. Keep watching, part 4 brings the goodies). I am a sucker for clones.
Some of the stuff I am posting is older and originally posted elsewhere (Wildcards, Shipswitch). I will eventually run out of these but I think these belong here as well, to explain background, and just in case some forums go down.
Hmmm, I think I am posting too much fiction, and it's all over the place. I need to do something about that. More 'now,' less 'then' or 'what if.'
New month resolutions:
- Pace myself. Higher quality, lower volume.
- Save the best for later.
- Damit. I need to play, and roleplay more.
- No more caffeine for the squirrel.
Cheers! -Q
04 February 2009
I, Clone: Part 2
Part 1: Welcome Back
Part 2: The Goodness of Our Heart
Kendar Zek died in April 110. He had been diagnosed with a degenerative disease, and there was nothing that could have been done. No treatment, no med clones, no Intaki rebirth would bring him back. Because he had been a gentle and orderly man, he died as he had lived: he said goodbye to his dearest friends, distributed his considerable wealth and finished his business. He was grateful that death had announced herself in advance, for he would leave a legacy worth keeping alive. Death would be forever this time. Or so he had been told...
And one good night, he passed away in his sleep.
"Please sign here, here and here," said Coat, pointing at forms on the tray. He knew already that his name was Kraak but to Kendar, somehow, he would always be the Coat.
Kendar read the forms, smirked and tried to sign. He tried once. He tried again. After a few more tries he gave up saying "I can't, I do not remember how to sign my name." It was a week after he had woken up in the clone vat and he still had trouble remembering some things. He read the forms again:
I, Kendar Zek, am awake and self-aware.
Coat clarified, "do not worry, this is just a formality. We just need your gesture, the statement is just a legal requirement as you are not expected to posses all your faculties yet. Keep in mind what matters, we have your DNA print and it matches the one in our contracts. We will look after you."
"Why is it that I do not remember?"
The doctor -had he rolled his eyes just there for a second- explained yet another time. "Your situation is special. We went through great lengths to bring you back. We are very proud of it, mind you... medically speaking, you were not supposed to be alive."
A memory stirred within Kendar. "Wait... I was sick, wasn't I? There was no coming back..."
"But you are back. We had a contract with you, and we are on track to meet our obligations." Coat was beginning to sound enthusiastic. "Never give up on technological advance, I say."
"Contract?"
"There is a disaster recovery contract to your name."
Coat explained how it was not a regular clone operation. The contract had been triggered the day Kendar's death was announced in the news; how agents had scoured the cluster for material, information and memories. They had found four discarded medclones, assorted biomass, news clippings and -bingo- corrupted snippets of pod emergency comms. A new body had been grown, partial memories recovered, a neural image prepared and uploaded.
Unfortunately, the best material had been three years old and synthesized memories had to fill the gaps in an image full of holes. As a result, the clone would not quite hold all of its former memories, something that was all too familiar to careless capsuleers.
"You are in an imperfect vessel, if you will, so you will find trouble keeping up," Coat had warned.
Therapy would help him recover to a comfortable level and, for the rest, study would have to do.
It made sense.
Coat was clearly enjoying himself with the story by now, a glimmer in his eye telling on him. "We have brought you back to life, we have provided you with learning implants, we have prepared dossiers for you to study your own life and help you remember. Basic quarters and sustenance have been arranged."
Ken felt fortunate. Fortunate indeed that his old self had been so cautious, fortunate to be in such capable hands, fortunate to be alive. "Gee," Ken said, "thank you so very much." So fortunate, that he wondered what the catch would be. He teased Coat with a bit of sarcasm, "I wonder if I will ever be able to repay you."
"There will be enough time to worry about the issue of payment. As you claim back your life we are confident this will be taken care of, so do not worry. Our first priority is helping you get better."
Kendar's eyes opened wide. Resurrection without guarantee of payment? What if he did not pay? What if he did not want to come back to begin with? Well, he did, but he wondered if he could use that in court. Ken smelled money.
Coat saw the question in his mind, smiled wryly and warned, "We did not do this out of the goodness of our heart, Mr. Zek. We have a contract. With you. As a business opportunity this is worth almost half a billion to us, an amount that you can easily afford as you once told me yourself. You made your down payment years ago so we are confident that when, not if, you recover your life and your assets, we will all be satisfied."
"So I owe you money?"
"You owe us your life. What is money in this case?"
Good question. How much? Better question.
Part 2: The Goodness of Our Heart
Kendar Zek died in April 110. He had been diagnosed with a degenerative disease, and there was nothing that could have been done. No treatment, no med clones, no Intaki rebirth would bring him back. Because he had been a gentle and orderly man, he died as he had lived: he said goodbye to his dearest friends, distributed his considerable wealth and finished his business. He was grateful that death had announced herself in advance, for he would leave a legacy worth keeping alive. Death would be forever this time. Or so he had been told...
And one good night, he passed away in his sleep.
"Please sign here, here and here," said Coat, pointing at forms on the tray. He knew already that his name was Kraak but to Kendar, somehow, he would always be the Coat.
Kendar read the forms, smirked and tried to sign. He tried once. He tried again. After a few more tries he gave up saying "I can't, I do not remember how to sign my name." It was a week after he had woken up in the clone vat and he still had trouble remembering some things. He read the forms again:
I, Kendar Zek, am awake and self-aware.
Coat clarified, "do not worry, this is just a formality. We just need your gesture, the statement is just a legal requirement as you are not expected to posses all your faculties yet. Keep in mind what matters, we have your DNA print and it matches the one in our contracts. We will look after you."
"Why is it that I do not remember?"
The doctor -had he rolled his eyes just there for a second- explained yet another time. "Your situation is special. We went through great lengths to bring you back. We are very proud of it, mind you... medically speaking, you were not supposed to be alive."
A memory stirred within Kendar. "Wait... I was sick, wasn't I? There was no coming back..."
"But you are back. We had a contract with you, and we are on track to meet our obligations." Coat was beginning to sound enthusiastic. "Never give up on technological advance, I say."
"Contract?"
"There is a disaster recovery contract to your name."
Coat explained how it was not a regular clone operation. The contract had been triggered the day Kendar's death was announced in the news; how agents had scoured the cluster for material, information and memories. They had found four discarded medclones, assorted biomass, news clippings and -bingo- corrupted snippets of pod emergency comms. A new body had been grown, partial memories recovered, a neural image prepared and uploaded.
Unfortunately, the best material had been three years old and synthesized memories had to fill the gaps in an image full of holes. As a result, the clone would not quite hold all of its former memories, something that was all too familiar to careless capsuleers.
"You are in an imperfect vessel, if you will, so you will find trouble keeping up," Coat had warned.
Therapy would help him recover to a comfortable level and, for the rest, study would have to do.
It made sense.
Coat was clearly enjoying himself with the story by now, a glimmer in his eye telling on him. "We have brought you back to life, we have provided you with learning implants, we have prepared dossiers for you to study your own life and help you remember. Basic quarters and sustenance have been arranged."
Ken felt fortunate. Fortunate indeed that his old self had been so cautious, fortunate to be in such capable hands, fortunate to be alive. "Gee," Ken said, "thank you so very much." So fortunate, that he wondered what the catch would be. He teased Coat with a bit of sarcasm, "I wonder if I will ever be able to repay you."
"There will be enough time to worry about the issue of payment. As you claim back your life we are confident this will be taken care of, so do not worry. Our first priority is helping you get better."
Kendar's eyes opened wide. Resurrection without guarantee of payment? What if he did not pay? What if he did not want to come back to begin with? Well, he did, but he wondered if he could use that in court. Ken smelled money.
Coat saw the question in his mind, smiled wryly and warned, "We did not do this out of the goodness of our heart, Mr. Zek. We have a contract. With you. As a business opportunity this is worth almost half a billion to us, an amount that you can easily afford as you once told me yourself. You made your down payment years ago so we are confident that when, not if, you recover your life and your assets, we will all be satisfied."
"So I owe you money?"
"You owe us your life. What is money in this case?"
Good question. How much? Better question.
02 February 2009
Shipswitch
UC Odotte
August 109. Season 3, less than an hour before ISGC race 10.
So I dropped by the hangar where everything was ready for the ISGC race, as usual, but the lights were off. Unusual. "Lights on!" I called, expecting to see my shiny golden arrowhead of a frigate. And on they went...
o.O
She's GREEN?! And slimey green at that? What the flap? Someone's idea of a joke, to paint my ship before the race? The final race of a perfect season?
And where was the wall? You know, the front right armor, the part left exposed to the hallway so anyone at UC could walk up and write a message? "Beat an inty, undying respect," "Speed Fairy!" "Good girls go to Lumi, bad girls go to 0.0, have fun!" But the wall was shiny, polished and smooth... My messages were gone.
"Braaaaaaax!"
The lights on the perch went on and his voice came through the system "ah, Quin... look closer s'il vous plaît." There were actually several people up there, giggling and pointing. Well, here is your close look, you fat Mannar joker, before I climb and push you out that window.
"Mirror mirror," I said, "systems check." The answer came back in contralto instead of baritone. -Aura? Why hello, it has been a long time - do not get too comfy, I will have you erased again in no time- No modules. No rigs. She was as good as packaged.
She is... not... my ship?
Breathed in. -Relax- She actually looked different, here and there. Fins and thrusters and circuitry. Sort of evil and menacing. Then I spotted this little green triangle and some words. "Khanid Innovation." She was an interceptor.
"What...?" The room erupted with laugther. "SURPRISE!!!"
"Quin, meet ze Tsiap-tsiap, a Malediction class interceptor. Wiz ze compliments and ze personal note from Monsieur Asabona himself."
"Asa-who?"
"Ganortchar Asabona, ze CEO of Khanid Innovation, zinks UC racing a Malediction hull would be 'mutually beneficial,' seeing how you have done such a good job on ze Executioner..."
"Oh. Cool..." A crazy plan was spinning in my head. Fifty minutes to race start and I was 20 jumps away. -Please Quin, do not do anything stupid- "And, say, how long would it take you to fit her?" -Stupid, stupid... you are about to finish a perfect frigate season, unbeaten, and want to risk flying an interceptor? Ah, but would it not be even more perfect if, by any chance, I actually win this one?
"We have your modules and can improvise rigs, mais not your favourites exactly... Look, we just wanted to show you zis but did not intend to..."
Here is to doing stupid things for fun. "Naah, go for it! And while you guys are doing that, blank that ugly name and get me some red colouring. This should be fun..."
On the news the following day...
Me and my Poison Apple came in 5th place. Every possible mistake to make, I made. She was way too fast. I mis-warped. She would not handle waypoint approaches as gracefully as A Wing and a Prayer. I missed my frigate. That interceptor handled like a brick. -Together, we suck!
But we can smooth out the rough edges. She will be fast and nimble, I will learn to cope with the speed. We have time ahead. An entire new racing season, in a different class.
It was the beginning of a beautiful friendship... ;)
August 109. Season 3, less than an hour before ISGC race 10.
So I dropped by the hangar where everything was ready for the ISGC race, as usual, but the lights were off. Unusual. "Lights on!" I called, expecting to see my shiny golden arrowhead of a frigate. And on they went...
o.O
She's GREEN?! And slimey green at that? What the flap? Someone's idea of a joke, to paint my ship before the race? The final race of a perfect season?
And where was the wall? You know, the front right armor, the part left exposed to the hallway so anyone at UC could walk up and write a message? "Beat an inty, undying respect," "Speed Fairy!" "Good girls go to Lumi, bad girls go to 0.0, have fun!" But the wall was shiny, polished and smooth... My messages were gone.
"Braaaaaaax!"
The lights on the perch went on and his voice came through the system "ah, Quin... look closer s'il vous plaît." There were actually several people up there, giggling and pointing. Well, here is your close look, you fat Mannar joker, before I climb and push you out that window.
"Mirror mirror," I said, "systems check." The answer came back in contralto instead of baritone. -Aura? Why hello, it has been a long time - do not get too comfy, I will have you erased again in no time- No modules. No rigs. She was as good as packaged.
She is... not... my ship?
Breathed in. -Relax- She actually looked different, here and there. Fins and thrusters and circuitry. Sort of evil and menacing. Then I spotted this little green triangle and some words. "Khanid Innovation." She was an interceptor.
"What...?" The room erupted with laugther. "SURPRISE!!!"
"Quin, meet ze Tsiap-tsiap, a Malediction class interceptor. Wiz ze compliments and ze personal note from Monsieur Asabona himself."
"Asa-who?"
"Ganortchar Asabona, ze CEO of Khanid Innovation, zinks UC racing a Malediction hull would be 'mutually beneficial,' seeing how you have done such a good job on ze Executioner..."
"Oh. Cool..." A crazy plan was spinning in my head. Fifty minutes to race start and I was 20 jumps away. -Please Quin, do not do anything stupid- "And, say, how long would it take you to fit her?" -Stupid, stupid... you are about to finish a perfect frigate season, unbeaten, and want to risk flying an interceptor? Ah, but would it not be even more perfect if, by any chance, I actually win this one?
"We have your modules and can improvise rigs, mais not your favourites exactly... Look, we just wanted to show you zis but did not intend to..."
Here is to doing stupid things for fun. "Naah, go for it! And while you guys are doing that, blank that ugly name and get me some red colouring. This should be fun..."
On the news the following day...
Quintrala, individual frigate champion and perky Gallentean redhead, startled the audience when she emerged in an ominous green Malediction.
Me and my Poison Apple came in 5th place. Every possible mistake to make, I made. She was way too fast. I mis-warped. She would not handle waypoint approaches as gracefully as A Wing and a Prayer. I missed my frigate. That interceptor handled like a brick. -Together, we suck!
But we can smooth out the rough edges. She will be fast and nimble, I will learn to cope with the speed. We have time ahead. An entire new racing season, in a different class.
It was the beginning of a beautiful friendship... ;)
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