Don't cry, its just your spaceship!

Shocku watched the emptiness of space through the lens of his camera drone. The Storm of Intent, a Tempest class battleship, hung motionless within the protective shield of the Control Tower just off a moon in the O-9 solar system of the Paragon Soul region of the galaxy. His ship was fully manned for station bashing operations, but a Goon fleet had been sighted in a nearby system so Shocku's fleet was regrouping.

Staring at the infinite reaches of mostly empty space around them, he suddenly zoomed in on a region of space near the shield. A Pilgrim class recon was dropping out of warp right at the edge. Shocku heard other pilots cursing over the neocom that the pilgrim managed to warp before they could do any significant damage. He pondered for a moment, then gave an order to the his edgy crew, "Load short range Quake ammo in all artillery guns!". The short range high damage ammo was seldom used as the ship was fit for sniping from range. Shocku carried a thousand rounds of Quake within the hold anyway in case he was engaged on a stargate while traveling.

Again the overview lit up as the Pilgrim descended out of warp a second time just outside the shields of the alliance station. The Fleet Commander called for tacklers and Shocku thought of his Minmatar slave girl and her Rifter. Unfortunately her duties had kept her in station in the TPAR system this night. Shocku cleared his mind and double checked the range settings programmed into his navigation computer. He initiated auto pilot instructions as his the support ships made short work of the Pilgrim. The lumbering Tempest seemed to almost groan as it fired thrusters and began to move to the edge of the shield. Soon the prow and the guns were outside the shimmering shields as thrusters kept the ship just on the edge.

As he had expected would happen, his overview suddenly lit up with a ball of red Goon ships just a few short kilometers from where his own battleship sat exposed outside the edge of the shield. This was what he had come for. The Fleet Commander called out primaries and neural commands flew at the speed of light from the implants in Shocku's skull to the gunnery centers aboard his ship. The guns went hot and the instant the targeting computers locked the enemy battleship, his tempest shuddered as 6 massive 1400mm rounds flew with incredible velocity from his ship to the enemy, shattering the elecrocrystalline barrier of its shields almost instantly. Shocku smiled at his decision only hours earlier to request Vince bring an additional gyrostabilizer. Now it made all the difference.His ship would rely on the station shield bubble rather than hardeners the gyro replaced.

Shocku saw multiple targets locking him as volley after volley of 1400mm artillery rounds pounded gaping holes in the enemy ship's armor. He grimaced in slight irritation as the Fleet Commander repeatedly queried the status of the enemy ship, and replied..

"Enemy armor 50%"...
"Enemy armor depleted, in structure..."

Shocku glanced at his own shields, which were holding strong despite at least half a dozen targets locking him on the overview.

"Enemy in deep structure..."

The aperture of his drone camera lens automatically contracted as the shattered enemy antimatter drive went critical and detonated, flashing dark space to white light. The Goon's pod was also quickly eliminated seconds later.

Chuckling, he looked through the local com logs for early comms from his victim taunting the alliance fleet commander. He copied the Goon pilot's own words and transmitted them to the clone facility where they would surely be read when the goon's clone was awakened, "Don't cry, its just your spaceship!"

Captured in Space

The news spread through the stations like wildfire, screams of joy rang out all about and as they did so did the pandemonium as thousands of slaves heard the news of their release from the oppression of the Amarrians.

Simploria looked to her friends, her jaw dropping as the news registered. "We are freed?" "Yes!! FREE!!!" They screamed and hugged each other tightly and danced and cheered. Then, suddenly, in the midst of their celebrations and reverie of imaginings of what is to come, the thought of the injections occurred to her, a spreading dread overcoming her as she sunk to her knees before her friends. "What to do? The shots!!!"

For years they have been injected as a form of control, with a virus that would be fatal if they were not continuously injected with antidote by their masters.

Though she was still in the very beginning of her training, Simplora and the other new slaves were injected with the virus early on and told what would happen to them if they did not comply or if they were to run away. It was the ultimate form of control and to ingrain the message into the new slave's heads, one unfortunate slave was taken from each of the new groups and subjected to the virus and denied the life-sustaining serum. Behind the glass partition, the new slaves were forced to watch their comrade die an unspeakable death, strapped to the bed screaming out in agony for days. It was unbearable and the new slaves found themselves praying for death to come swifty to their friend and for release... but it never did. It was a lesson they would never forget, one of many to come.

Quickly, they sprung to action and were running to the medical pod, their hearts pounding as they imagined the panic that would ensue when the thousands of slaves converged on the pod for vials of the precious antidote. Surprisingly, they were first to arrive and quickly scooped up as many boxes of vials as they could carry, running to the nearby ships and hurrying back and forth loading the cargo holds.

Soon, the rumble of thousands of slaves was upon them; Simplora and the others knew what would follow in the panic as sure as they knew that this station would no longer be safe. "Hurry!" her friends called out, as they each slammed the cargo holds closed, knowing what they had to do as there was no time and soon the clamoring, panicked hoard would be upon them fighting for the precious vials as well as for the few remaining ships.

Panic gripped Simplora as she only had a rudimentary understanding of how to fly the rifter, having only just started her training. Soon she managed to lift off with the coaching of her friends over the neocom, she trembled as the station disappeared beneath her, the constellations coming into view as she tried to get her bearings, not having taken the orienteering classes yet she soon found herself separated from her friends and hopelessly lost without direction.

The beginning of the journey proved to be a nightmare as she could not tell which stations had freed their slaves and which had not. She desperately did not wish to be enslaved again but needed to resupply and work for the ISK needed for food, fuels and supplies. As the days passed into weeks, Simplora was able to assimilate into the crowds and pick up small-time mission running contracts, learning as she went by constantly listening to those about her, the once foreign lingo becoming slowly more understandable as she progressed in her learning. When her shields failed and the monitor flashed its warning as the heat permeated the outer hull, she was able to afford her first upgrade. She had watched other pilots perform this countless times by now and was able to complete the job herself, she found herself almost dancing as she celebrated this small victory. She was on the road to being independent and was growing bolder in the contracts she accepted as well, earning more and more ISK with each success.

Learning to inject herself had been a challenge, but a must, and soon her thoughts were constantly revolving around the supply of antidote in the cargo hold. She found herself dreaming of the consequences of running out and when she sat in galley with the other mission runners she soaked in every piece of news about contracts involving courier services to medical facilities and tidbits of information about what might be transported without appearing too interested. After one night of hearing such news and the coordinates, she quickly set her autopilot and lifted off with hope in her heart that she might be able to secure additional supplies of the antidote, not considering at the time what the penalties might be for such an act. Nearing low-security space, her heart jumped as she orbited the gate several times. It was not her boldness but her desperation that fueled her now as she approached the gate and entered, quickly settling into course to dock, relief sweeping over her as she found herself remarkably in the right station she accepted the contract without further investigation and set course to the pickup location, driving deeper into the low-security zone, her mind focused on one thing and one thing only: getting the antidote and quickly disappearing into the solar system, if possible.

With the box loaded into cargo, she quickly left the station sure that she could find her way out she quickly became lost in the maze of stargates, warping from one dock to the next as she sought to hide herself as best she could from the other pilots and overseers the neocom startled her as it crackled, a voice on the other end identifying themselves and inquiring as to her course and why she had detoured from her destination, having missed a gate. Silence. She knew they were waiting for an answer, as her tongue became thick and her head reeled. A tracker! Of course! A tracker had been placed inside the cargo! How could she have thought such valuable cargo would be given over without tracking its progress as well as the pilot who held it. She covered her mouth and gasped scrambling for an explanation she silently cursed her stupidity as she explained she had become disoriented, glad that she had only missed one gate. The neocom once again cracked as the voice from the other side gave clear, concise instructions as to how she was to proceed and that she was indeed to proceed immediately. There was no question or query in the voice, but a steady and calm reserve that left her with no doubt that she could and would be destroyed at the push of a button. Quickly she set her course and followed directions to the letter, confirming her progress each step of the way as she found herself now hopeless approaching the dock to the destination station.

"You are first to pick up a marker from the jet can outside the dock," came the instructions over the neocom, "and then proceed immediately to station." Quickly, she approached the jet can as her ship connected briefly with it and picked up the marker through the hatch, her radar lit up with a quickly approaching ship behind her and she yelped as her screen flashed red as she was targeted. She slammed the button to dock and found herself inside the station where she spent a considerable amount of time after releasing her precious cargo, tears streaming down her face as she watched it disappear, even despite the fact that she received a hefty reward for her endeavor, she was hopeless. She tried to scan the surrounding area but was unable to do so within the confines of the station, she soon heard instructions that incoming ships needed her space and she must depart. Trying to steady herself, she readied to once again launch into the low-sector zone and try and sort her way back out to Concord space.

Her ship glided smoothly out of dock as she quickly scanned, breathing a sigh of relief as it seemed clear... on first glance. Approaching the first gate, her heart racing with the thought of her freedom before her once again for as long as her precious vials would last her, she set course but was quickly intercepted by a larger ship. Not knowing what to do, she proceeded on course as a demanding voice cracked the neocom, "You are to stop your ship immediately," came the instruction barking over the neo. She did not reply but acted in panic, engaging her afterburner and activating her shields as she attempted to activate the stargate before he could react. He was three steps in front of her as he enveloped her in the webifier and rendered her ship immobile. Again came the instruction, "You are being enslaved. You are to stop your ship immediately!" "NOOO," she screamed through the neo, setting her ship into warp as she tried in vain to escape, she cried out as she, for the very first time ever, engaged her weapons system on another ship. The first hit to her ship was shattering, as she felt it shake with the power of the strike, she returned fire over and over again, trying desperately to release herself from the hold he had on her. Again and again she failed.

Once again the voice, this time maddeningly calm, through the neocom, "You are instructed to stop your ship immediately. This is your last warning!" "NOO, I completed my mission! I'm done!" She screamed through the neocom as she tried everything she could think of to escape, firing over and over again, his voice angering her in its calmness as if he were merely toying with her! She fought with everything she had until the final blow came, her pod hurled out into space, she never even knew what hit her as she glided helplessly, towed in by his tractor beam, once again the voice in the neocom, calm, cool, maddening! "You are hereby enslaved. You will do what you are told. You will speak when spoken to. Am I clear?" "Yes, Master," came the programmed reply, her body shaking with fear, followed by anger and outrage! How could she have thought she could enter this zone and remain unscathed, she screamed in rage as she was helplessly towed into station.

Silence. She remained in station for what seemed an eternity. She cared not now what happened to the once-precious antidote. It mattered not to her now. Surely her life was over, at least as she knew it. Once again she would return to the mind-numbing hoard, blindly following orders and grinding out missions for her soon-to-be slave masters. The neocom in the station blazed to life, the voice of the woman who had assigned her the contract surprisingly enough, informing her that her new master's paperwork was on the desk and that she was to familiarize herself with it." Her mouth opened for a million questions as the neo once again went dead. Silence. She hurried over to the paperwork, her nimble fingers flipping through the pages as she encountered a photograph. She sucked her breath in as she beheld him, examining his features, as she found her slender finger reaching out and tracing his profile, the neocom startled her once again as she dropped the papers and hurried to gather them together as she, for the first time, heard his voice...

He told her she was his and that he would protect, guide and instruct her as he saw fit and that she was to obey in all ways. There was no question in his voice. As he spoke, she found herself drawn to the voice, her cheek pressed against the neocom as she listened to him wide eyed, wondering about him. The voice gave no indication to her that he would tolerate anything but absolute obedience. It was a self-assured voice and rich with confidence, and as he spoke she found herself coming to the realization that indeed she would serve him, unquestioningly and without reservation. Quietly she spoke the words, sure that he could not hear her, "my Master..." as he continued to tell her of her fate.

She was his.