Tuesday, January 11, 2011

Terror in the Spacelanes

The young man sat in the back of the transport ship, converted to be a passenger liner. He kept his head down, trying to disappear into his seat. The violent shaking had mercifully ceased, but the lights were flickering, and the formerly ever-present rumble of the engines had stopped suddenly. The captain had said that he'd done this trip many times, and it was safe, he'd never been hit, before the young man had agreed to board, but it seemed that his luck had run out. He didn't know what was happening, could only guess that they were under attack from pirates. The lights flickered, and dimmed, casting a shadowy amber haze through the compartment. The young man wondered if this was it, if he was about to die. He was sure that at any moment, there would be a flash and then nothing, as he was disintegrated by nuclear fire.

He heard a hissing noise, and squeezed his eyes shut, knowing that any breath might be his last. Then a small metallic click. He frowned, and looked up. Confusion filled his mind, the sound hadn't been some horrible weapon, but the door to the rest of the ship opening. Framed in the doorway was a small man, silhouetted by the brighter lights in the bulkhead beyond the entrance. The figure stepped in, and the young man blinked, his confusion only growing. Standing there was a Brutor, no more than five and a half feet tall and slim, his hair in dreadlocks, tied back from his face, his eyes hidden by a pair of aviator sunglasses. He was dressed, bizarrely, in a bright purple three piece suit, over a pink shirt, completed by a red bow tie. A smile formed on the young man's lips. Surely, this had to be a joke. This was just the craggy old captain playing a practical joke on them. Then, the smile faded, as two other men stepped in to flank the small intruder. They were another story entirely; huge, imposing men, dressed in black fatigues, armor strapped to their bodies, the logo '-=RANSM=-' in red and grey painted onto their chest plates. Their masked faces swiveled to assess the room, and they held black, viciously functional looking weapons in their hands.

The strangely dressed little man ran his gaze along the rows of passengers, then spoke, a slight smirk on his face. "Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. My name is Raxip, and I will be your pirate for today. First, a sad announcement: You are all dead, you just haven't realized it yet." A shock jolted through the young man's body at the words. He had hoped that perhaps, he might survive. He thought maybe the man had been planning on ransoming them, but it seems he was just playing some sort of twisted game.

"Now," the man continued, "before we proceed with your deaths, I have some business to complete." He reached into his jacket and pulled out a scrap of flimsy with something written or drawn on it. After studying it for a moment, his eyes swept up, and his gaze locked with the young man's. They both froze, the small pirate's brow furrowing, his mouth growing tense. "This isn't right," he mumbled, glancing back down. Then he took a step forward. Suddenly, a tall thin Gallente gentleman, several rows ahead of the young man, shot to his feet. He locked eyes with the diminutive Brutor, and smoothed down his extravagant white mustache.

"See here, young man," he commanded haughtily, "You can't simply stride in here and babble on about nonsense like this. I'll have you know that I am a very powerful man in the Federation, and you would be sorry to-" As he spoke, then smaller man's eyebrows shot up over the top of his shades. Midway through the gentleman's words, the pirate nodded to the two soldiers to either side of him. They raised their weapons, and the young man's world dissolved into thunder and lightening, his eyes blinded momentarily by the flashes of the guns. The fury died in moments, and the young man blinked, his vision filled with spots. Slowly, he grew aware of warm liquid running down his face. He touched a hand to his cheek, and looked down at it, horror filling his mind with the realization that the substance was blood. His gaze flicked up, to the gentleman. The back of the man's expensive grey suit was ruined, shredded by the passage of the bullets. There was a spray of blood across the floor and on the wall. The man still stood, swaying slightly on his feet, and then he collapsed, crumpling slowly to the floor.

The compartment was bathed in a strange tense silence, and then all hell broke loose, as the rest of the passengers panicked. The small man stood there, grinning, and looked around. Suddenly, his movements snakelike with speed, he grabbed a sidearm from the man next to him and fired it into the air. Silence once again filled the room, and the pirate spoke again. "Ladies and gentlemen, you really try my patience." He looked around, meeting each person's gaze. "Would anyone else like brighten up my day? No? Great." Suddenly, his eyes stopped on the dead man's wife, a painfully thin Gallente woman, dressed in fine cloaks and a dress that probably cost more than the ship. She was huddled in her seat, spattered with her husband's blood, shaking slightly. He stepped towards her, and she shrank back, causing him to chuckle lowly. "Don't worry, I'm not gonna hurt you." He grins crookedly, handing the gun back. "At least, not unless you make me." He leaned forward, brushing her hair away from her neck, revealing to the young man a choker necklace, of black silk. The intruder ran his hands along it, then reached around behind and unclasped it, oblivious to the woman's shaking. Raising it to the light, he suddenly smiled, turning it this way and that, the square obsidian jewel in the center glinting in the yellowish glow. Then his face hardened again, and he stuffed his spoils into his suit, and locked eyes again with the young man. The young man froze, his hands shaking slightly, trying to repress his fear, show a brave face, as the smaller man crossed the small distance between them.

He studied the young man's face for a moment. "Durynx?" he asked, his voice cold. The young man opened his mouth to answer, but found he couldn't make a sound come out, so he merely nodded. "Got a new clone, didja? Nice young body to try to escape your age?" Confusion grew in the young man's mind. How did this pirate know who he was? What did he want? Suddenly, the intruder was right up next to him, his arm snapping out to grip his collar with an iron grasp. The small Brutor grinned predatorily, lifting the young man out of his seat, so that their eyes were level. "I'm afraid I've got some plans for you, Durynx. But on the up side, you get to live a little longer." Suddenly, and with strength surprising for his size, he threw the young man down to the blood spattered floor, his head bouncing against the metal edge of a chair as he flew. Darkness welled up to cover the young man, and as consciousness faded, he heard the man say "Cuff him, and get him to my ship. Then kill the rest, and plant the bomb."


  1. Holy Shi. . . Man, that is seriously good, dark and twisted.


  2. You're a bad bad man Raxipoo...
    Damn fine writing there, nice work.