Morden walked into the hanger. The low hum of machines in the background told him that some aspect of the stations capacity was being used.
Morden paused.
This was an epiphinay moment in time.
He looked at the key card Echnaton had given him - access to some of the Lone Gunmens most precious hangers - hangers he had just tansferred his worldy wealth into - there was a great level of trust been given here.
Mordens Caldari heritage shifted uneasily in the background of his mind.
Morden plugged the keycard in.
"Biometric scan will comence in 5 seconds, DNA scan will run at the same time" Chimed the female voice (Morden chuckled - why was it always female?)
5 seconds pass - under scrutiny this feels like a lifetime...
"Morden, you are free to pass under secondary security rules - violate any primary rules and you will be executed"
Feck, Echnaton has always been a stickler for rules, - the door slid open.
As Morden walked into the main production array, multiple bots slid over to him. The place was a hive of activity. In most quarters, the LGM were viewed as a small corp - Morden looked on the array of production taking place and chuckled.
"Bot 1 new project" - "yes master" "project a picture of Evanda Char over there whilst i'm here" - "That is done master"
"Bot 2 Access the secure can - Mordens Capital Ship Project: Password : ********. Bring out the first 5 bpc's."
The bot wandered off - millions of Mordens money relied on this. It returned.
"Begin production"
Two simple words.
Yet so much meaning. Not so much for himself, the sacrifice he has to make, but the help of the Corp, like Raiden, Perseus, Archi, the people who had unprompted - helped out - true friends and pod pilots.
The machines started their work. Minerals painstaingly gained were greedily drunk by the factories - the Project had begun.
Morden returned to the LGM hangers and the secure areas after a few days. His great friend Dr Tashi had run down the gauntlet of low sec space bringing the last of the millions of minerals needed for the project.
Evanda Chars picture was still being scanned onto the wall by the first bot.
Morden chuckled to himself. At one point people always thought AI would triumph over IQ - it totally depended on what IQ programmed the AI to him.
The Project was in full swing. Huge armour plates, massive construction bays were taking their place on the assembly lines.
He had been a little complacent - time away on other things had robbed him of a few days production. This was quickly rectified. Blueprints were scanned by computers, ore piled out of the huge storage vats, production resumed at full tilt. The hum increased to a fervent pitch.
"Bot 2" - "yes master" "Current ETA for full completion - except the final blueprint" - "9-10 days master".
By the gods thought Morden. His production skills had advanced to a point over the years where even something like this was acheivable so quickly. Suddenly he remembered just how many hours he had spent mining roids to get to this stage, and spat on the floor to clear his throat.
A small cleaning bot swooped in and removed the foreign matter - A little icon at the right hand side of his vision told him he'd just been fined for breaching station rules.... Bloody health and safety.
If they knew what he had lost - knew what drove him to complete this project - they would of given him some isk in sympathy to replace it.
He reached inside his pilot jacket, and took out the holovid unit. Hitting the play button - it dutifully replayed the last moments of his Rattlesnake "Sting". Silently, he placed the unit down on a workbench as the vid played out to its violent final moments, and turned his gaze onto the giant starship engine taking creation before him - by his hands - by the LGM's hardwork, by his will.
Sympathy? Who needed it he thought as he looked at the most precious of the blueprints in the can - the one that all these parts would construct.
Morden looked up from his new home - the factory bays of the LGM Office.
He really needed a shower - some decent food in one of the resteraunts upstairs - some company, anything really.
To long producing materials down in the bays and factory units had left a stench of ore being burnt, welded, lasered into position on his clothes and to some extent his psyche.
He'd made a mistake over producing one aspect of the blueprints - now he was rectifying this, melting down the offending production plus anything else he had to hand to make up for his error. Echnaton and Saphros would peruse the logs - he knew this, they were always thorough - he had to make it balance.
Another batch of electronics went into the factories - only a handful of blueprints left now. Minerals from his refining poured into the bays, as quickly sucked out into the production vats - for the first time Morden looked concerned. Had he got his calculations right?
"Comms" "Yes Morden" "Contact Dr Tashi" "He is in station Morden". The link flickered open. "Tashi - we're off to Magiko again, or any decent Omber belt of course" static "Sure Morden, hauler ready - just send me the autopilot co-ords"
Damn - killing roids instead of Angels or Amarr - 2 days to go.
As Morden left and suited up, the bot was still burning Evanda Char's image into the wall.
Morden was tired - constant production for two weeks whilst still balancing his responsibilities to the corp were taking their toll. His absence from Ops had been noted. Ceanthar had expressed his mild displeasure - which quite frankly make it feel like it was from his clone mother...
He called the neural bot interface. "Bots move the last two units to the production area - bring me the final blueprint" - "Yes master"
Morden held his thoughts, machines whirred in the background, the dull thump of vast spaceship parts moving around the station were a backdrop to this moment.
A bot slid over silentily, a small secure case in its manipulator arms. The case popped open. Morden shook himself (always the destruction of the Rattlesnake, when he had time to contemplate it) and reached into the box that only his DNA presence would open.
He pulled out the small disc.
"Bots - assemble all the Capital Ship parts in the production hanger - load the Chimera blueprint and begin its production" "What name would you like this ship to be assigned Morden" sang the factory voice.
"Yakia's Revenge"
A long time ago, the Caldari had been driven from their homeworld by the Gallente, a process that had taken considerable orbitable bombardment of Caldari Prime. Billions had died. Admiral Yakia had flown the first Caldari carrier, a converted water tanker, directly into the atmosphere of Gallente Prime, a suicide moment to divert the Gallente and allow the Caldari to evacuate.
It worked - all aboard his ship, his fleet, died, but the Caldari lived on.
Tears ran down Morden's face - maybe he will do the same one day with this ship and the Caldari will return to their homeworld in triumph over their old enemy. Considering the current tensions in space this may happen - but the carrier is to allow the quick death of pirates in Minmatar low security space.
"Station - open a one way communications with the Sebestior, Evanda Char" "It will be done Morden" "Message is this - A longtime ago Evanda, I used to trade in pre-wormhole technology, I came across a really old holo-vid. It showed some ancient Terran war where pilots had the image of their favourite female star drawn on their craft. I'm going to burn your image onto all my fighters Evanda, in the hope they will fight as hard as the Minmatar, my friends, fight for their total freedom. My greatest respect." "Message is sent - deducted 2950 ISK from your account - EVEmail charge Morden"
Feck. His address book was always full of pirates not "friends" *sigh* The price of living in low security "empire" space.
"Morden - ship completion in 10 days 17 hours - do you need an automated notification message?"
"No, station - its burned in my memory - Bot - prepare Evanda Char's image to be fusion cut into the fighters" "Yes master"
Morden gathered his detritus and headed for the turbolift door. The door opened, he turned off the lights, and beyond the fusion glass that seperated the control area to production the great ship was already beginning to take life. A pause, a moment of reflection, then he went to his hanger bay and joined his comrades in arms - The Lone Gunmen.
Eva woke from an unremembered but apparently pleasant dream, to judge from the slight smile she felt lingering on her lips as she rolled over and sat up, dragging a tangle of long dark hair off her face.
The smile quickly vanished as the hangover hit her like a Havoc to the face. She winced, screwing up her eyes and baring her teeth slightly as she pushed the pain down and tried to sort out the mess of fractured memories of the previous night.
She'd been on the rum and Quafe, Cappy's drink...
She kicked the bottle into the bin, cursing herself quietly.
Too many ghosts...
The light on her neocom terminal was blinking quietly, as if aware that anything bright or loud was going to result in a trip through space.
She groaned, glaring at it as she rubbed her eyes. "Play messages".
"You have... one hundred and thirty two missed calls..."
"Ah, shit. Delete all death threats, all spam and all flagged scammers and known pirates"
"You have... thirty two missed calls..."
"Matar wept... OK, delete everything and spam all channels with system errors... wait... except for any messages from Meklon or Morden..."
She dragged a comb through her hair as the NeoCom ran the filters, twisting it back into a tidy ponytail as she tried to work out where she'd thrown her clothes last night.
Her inner voice was not so merciful as the quiet neocom
You're going to have to pick between those two at some point, you know...
Shut up... I have a hangover...
The NeoCom scrolled up a lone message. She read it slowly, eyes flicking back to the top to read it again...
Yeah, sure... looks like they're gonna make that really easy...
Eva popped two painkillers and went out to get shot.
The last few days hadn't been good to Morden. First rule of the EVE Universe - don't buy anything drunk.
After finding out about Evanda and Mek - Morden had gone on a drinking binge - and in the midst of that binge he'd enacted project two, before he'd even finished project one.
His capital ship cans in the LGM production area now had a new disk.
Morden shook his head - "way over the top". He was skint - he'd borrowed loads of isk off Archi his corpmate - who basically looked like an old Terran Jewish banker - maybe that was his background? He always seemed to have vast reserves of isk floating around - and fortunately didn't charge interest - well, he hadn't yet anyway for Morden.
He looked at the residues of blueprints, and started to sketch out the needs for this new project. After a brief moment, he had come to his conclusion - months upon months of work.
Feck, barely recovered from the last lot - and still need the skills, although fortunately the sets of skills are synonymous.
Corp mining at the moment - a few Revelations no doubt on the horizon, but then I have to go back to full scale killing and mining for the next few months.
Morden, hardens his heart, seals the can with the disk. The bot removes it to its corner of the hanger and he heads to his apartment on the station.
The suit goes back on, the neural fibers smoothed away, if you're going to get pod killed - make sure your corpse looks immaculate. Its time to become a pirates worst nightmare again in Molden Heath, its time to slaughter Angel Cartel until their clone factories run out of bio mass - Sansha's until they have no zombies left, time for Morden to do what he does best - kill.
Death awaits.
Morden slipped out of the pod goo, his extra suit allowing it to slip away freely. Teflon, in pre-wormhole terminology they used to call people where you couldn't make anything stick.
He left the bots to clear up the mess - normally he would do it himself - no airs and graces with him, but he was to tired. A long combat shift had drained him.
Twice, he had tanked 8 Angel Battleships plus multiple support ships, using those skills he gained so long ago, but neglected recently. Where the hell did the Angels get their pilots from? He had slain at least 50 tonight, plus countless support ships of every type, and yet there seemed to be no end.
Still, the isk was in the wallet and that was what he needed more than anything else. He gazed over the ships in the LGM base, he may need to sell at least one of them to get a quick boost - if only to pay the LGM's banker off, Archi, and clear that stain on his credit.
His gaze rested on the Phantasm, a beautiful, yet evil ship, used by the Sansha's to cause merry hell - its spiky design perfectly portraying its intent.
Not much chance of selling it within LGM - not exactly to many laser users amongst us.
Alliance first. Then the open market.
Morden had never really used it - he prefered the Ashimmu - its sleek lines, its nosferatu had always given him a buzz when flying it. In fact he flew it just because it looked so damn good. Not that he couldnt fly it well, Morden was proficient in all Tech 1 ships of any race, even the Gallente - always of the opinion - "Use the best weapon for the job".
*Sigh*
He still wasn't in the right frame of mind - leave the descions for a better date in time.
He'd just slaughtered loads of "people", is this what you want to be doing for the rest of your existance? Is this what you want to be remembered for?
Saphros had posed him a question earlier - "Maybe you've found what you are fighting for with us - freeing the people and not being a slave of the State". Morden had responded with typical bravado, but was now doubting his foolishness, his viper like response.
Typical - he shook his head.
Just what are you fighting for Morden? If anything.
Kudos? From who?
Respect? From who?
Loyalty? From who?
Morden looked back as the bots cleared up the pod goo - today was not a good day. He walked slowly back to his quarters, shoulders down.
The raid on the slaver convoy had been a disaster - the slave ship making it safely to dock, though its escort was ripped to shreds.
Still, the day had ended on a high note; a swift anti-pirate operation in Molden Heath had downed two targets in short order. Eva's new ship, the Interesting Theory, had well and truly proven itself, as had the tactics and co-ordination of their small gang.
She was walking on air, every nerve a-tingle, high on adrenaline.
Opening the door to her rooms, she was struck by the emptiness; just the two small drones purring about. She bounced over to the NeoCom, wanting to share the triumph, to high-five, to hug someone.
Her fingers flashed to an address, excitement still sparking in her eyes.
Fingers freeze. Hand drops. Eyes shut.
Cursing herself, she curls up on the sofa and waits for sleep.
Morden awoke, a malaise hanging over him. Slowly as his awareness returned he shook his head. He had been dreaming about her. Again. Feck, can I not get a moments peace - brain you are betraying me.
Struggling to get up he lost his footing in the bedding and fell headlong into his desk. *Ow*. He couldn't of done better if he had launched himself full bore at it. Blood, trickled down - a minor injury but sheesh - you muppet.
Morden chuckled, lightening his mood a bit - you can fly billion isk spaceships, build huge ships of destruction, but a woman comes along and you're like a love sick teenager, clumsy as a Keshiran Ape.
A small bio seal later, a quick pick of some lesiurely clothing, no space suit today - time for some serious partying with the rest of the LGM.
Morden hated it when the black dog returned - ever since the Rattlesnake had gone down to the Sansha's he'd had bouts, when the darkness descends and his mood sowers. "Hmm, actually come to think of it better apologise to Alain" - that had been one of those moments. A self-loathing, a sign of weakness in his eyes - but oh so perfectly human.
"Brain if you don't stop this negative shit - I will trade you in for a better model"
Hmm, I wonder if that is even possible?
Chuckling, he took the turbolift upto the LGM's bar, which of course wasn't really a bar it was their main office - but you wouldn't of thought so with the amount of beer, spirits and ales lying around the place. One day, for a laugh he'd taken a bottle of Amarr Spice wine he'd `liberated` from an Amarrian general and Saphros had the shot the bottle five seconds after he'd walked into the room.
He stuck to Caldari Pale Ale after that and the burns had healed quickly enough.
The door opened and all the crew were assembled - the buzz and conversation a sudden uplift. "Evening folks". A chorus of replies, Saphros and Raiden in their usual discussion - which nearly always ended with Raiden getting podded on the simulators later. Archi and Perseus trading setups and tips. Icewolf with a brief nod before turning back to the fusion glass and the view of the stars. A quick wave from Irene and Juneka at a table (he wasn't going to disrupt THAT conversation!). Morjeran, animated as ever talking to Echnaton. Qi'sen was eyeing up Novaine (better leave that one as well, Novaine will eat him for breakfast).
Archi's ocular filter whirred. "Morden, I detect a little bio seal on your head - care to elaborate" he said with a rhy smile on his lips.
"Mate, you wouldn't believe me if I told you". Archi chuckled.
"So how did the raid on the slaver convoy go?". Archi's smile disappeared.
"Don't tell me mate - I understand - there'll be other opportunities, we both know that"
"Yes, there will - catch". Thank the gods for dexterity implants - Morden quickly caught the small bottle of Ale arching away to his left. Chuckles from the rest of the LGM.
Morden headed over to chase the black dog away with the best known cure in the galaxy - alcohol and good company.
.
.
.
About 8 beers later, and he found himself gazing out looking down at Hedaleofarber II, hanging there, majestic as ever, a globe of beauty against the inky blackness that permeated all. He mentally super imposed her face over the globe, beauty on beauty.
"Coward" he thought, you havn't said more than "hello" recently - you'd better do something, never wise to leave silence to fill the void, it always had a habit of warping what needed to be said, and he had been avoiding it, dreading it almost.
"Isk for your thoughts?" said Perseus. Morden nearly blurted out what was truly on his mind, surprised by his friends quiet approach, although so deep in thought, Angels could of attacked the Station and he probably wouldn't of noticed.
"5 days of production to go Pers" was all he could muster, as Perseus squeezed his shoulder. They both strolled over to rejoin the party, Saphros and Raiden were about to hit the simulators, yet again. The night was still young.
The Office was quiet, the LGM party had finished and only Morden was left standing, soft snores seeped from various unconcious bodies. Morden chuckled, he'd popped an anti-alcohol pill from Ishukone about 2 hours ago, cheating, of course.
Hedaleofarber II still hung there.
He swigged the last of his current Ale down, swishing the bottom of the bottle, sighed, realising he couldn't put this off any longer. But not here he mused, a holographic projection of a corp of inebriated Gunmen wasn't going to go down well.
A place of gravitas was needed for this.
He descended to the production area, the back-drop, the huge fusion glass screen. Yakia's Revenge was halfway through production, its form, the shell, had been completed he noted, it was the vital works now that remained.
He turned, so the view was at his back. "Computer - attempt a holographic projection real-time message with Meklon". "I have a match Morden and acceptance has been registered"
A near perfect image of Meklon materialised in the LGM Production control centre. Implants and all.
Morden: Meklon I.... need to have a word with you "Like ain't that obvious"
Meklon: Ah, Mord, yes.... I have been meaning to talk to you.
Morden: erm, well its about Evanda "Ok you're now winning awards for rocket science Morden"
Meklon: *nods* I expected as much...look I didn't mean for things to happen like this.
Morden: *shrug* stuff happens mate "Stuff happens!? - AAARGGH no, throttle him, one v one no clones ready - to the death, duel at dawn with laser pistols - no, no, no... control the anger, don't be a fool"
Meklon: It does, yes, but... I still feel as though things should have happened in a better way... we should have told you sooner.
Meklon: I know Eva never meant to hurt you, she....*bites his bottom lip*...she never thought it was serious.
Morden: *turns away* I'm happy for you both *turns back* I do mean that - that ain't lip service - just understand... I think... I think i'll always burn a candle for her, I hope you understand "Burn a candle? More like a fecking fusion drive"
Meklon: *nods understandably while extending his hand* I don't believe I'll ever meet a man who won't Mord, but I know she will always want your friendship...if that is still open to her?
Morden: Of course - i'm not losing friends or comrades over this "And that is the truth of the matter brain - you are not screwing up over this understand?"
Meklon: *grins* That is indeed good to hear, I wouldn't like a rift to form. But I was going to say that even if you did have any reserved feelings for me then to not hold them to Evanda..
Morden: *sighs* no i'm just bloody jealous of you Mek thats all - it will pass in time *shakes hands* "Jealous, a mild word to describe this feeling - surely theres something stronger?"
Meklon: *nods while shaking Mord's hand* Well, your a handsome man Mord, I'm sure you'll find someone who can fill the void.
Morden: I hope so - until next time Mek "Fecking CEO's - all the good chicks, the moves, I should of stayed a big fish myself rather than leave Kelinbar Corporation for LGM... No that isn't true, thoughts like that will leave the black dog a free way back in"
Meklon: *releases Mords hand* Indeed mate, take care.. and if you ever need a hand with anything.. please, don't hesitate to let me know.
"Computer end projection"
Morden turned round and gazed on the ship "I'll be marrying a bloody ship at this rate - still one down, one to go"
All was quiet in the production room.