The scene opens with the recording of a Navy Issued Megathron coming out of warp infront of the Republic Fleet Testing Facilities in orbit around Gulfonodi X Moon 15. The blue flares trail through the darkness of space as the behemoth of a space fareing vessel came to a full stop. Flames spewed from it's left hand exhaust system as 5 drones circled around it trying to contain the damage and extinguish the fire. The ship begins to pan around and moves towards the station dock as the screen fades to black.

"Power down the holo-viewer, seems as though these things never hold good memories."

Standing up from his personal console, Meklon walks over to his 'business' cabinet, pulling out a bottle of spirits and popping off the lid, he lowered himself back into his chair and took several gulps of the potent liquid.

"Initialise recording anograms, encode with encryption method Alpha Nine Seven Omega Nine. Create holo-recording file, entitle it "Memories" and begin recording..."

It was the year 75EST (23311 AD) when two prominent Caldari business operatives first met at the Poksu Mineral Group Mineral Reserve in orbit around Matigu (Now more commonly known as New Caldari I). The business agents, Mr Jorgan De-Matzeo and Miss Vereio Breen, had just spent the past 6 hours in a presentation held by the PMG reference their latest mineral processing refineries. During the short recess that was granted, the moment which would change their lives came, a brief exchange of glances over a crowded discussion hall.
No words passed between them and no further contact for the rest of the two weeks they were both on station. Jorgan, being your everyday Deteis, returned planetside and continued his daily grind of administrative duties for the Kaalakiota company, while Vereio returned to the Aunenen system to carry on her work with the Zero-G Research Firm.

Months rolled by, 76EST (23312 AD) was greeted with little noise, the factories carried on their mass ship production, while the farming worlds continued to provide their planetside goods to the vacuum of space. business's continued to expand and collapse and Empires continued to grow, life carried on it's playful game of mystery.

Jorgan was in his now pristine office on Matigu, running the daily operations of the local Kaalakiota factories, when he recieved a communique from the Joint Harvesting company of the Amarr. His prescence was requested at their station in the Aunenen system (V 14 - Joint Harvesting Mineral Reserve) for their yearly presentation of Livestock production states. Being as methodical as any Caldari could be, he informed his assitant that he would be absent from the head office for the next 4 weeks and placed him in charge. Booking his transport to the Aunenen system, he left and began to pack for the trip.

At the same time, Vereio had also recieved an invitation from the Joint Harvesting company and had already booked her planetside shuttle run to the station. Despite her complaints of being sent on another 'pointless' presentation of Amarrian facts, figures and divine intervention, she none the less was prepared for the 4 weeks of utter boredom.

Three days later and the conferance had begun, in true Amarrian grace, the station welcome committee was dull, to say the least. A few proverbs were read out from the Pax Amarria and the guests were lead to their accomodation for the duration of the month. Once everyone had unpacked, the first day the guests we're free to roam the station and take in the sights of the Amarrian Station - though it was the same as 99% of all other Amarrian designed facilities - shiny.

It wasn't long till Jorgan had found the one bar on the station that served strong spirits and in a very un-Caldari like fashion, began knocking them down faster than a Burst with a 100mn MWD attached. What seemed like hours passed, the stupid Amarrian bartender drone offering no decent conversation, when a small group entered the empty bar. Looking over to the group, Jorgan's eyes locked onto the sight of Vereio - no woman had ever looked so appealing, apart from...

"Ey you!!! What you looking at!?"

The shout burst his concentration, as did the fist suddenly thrown into the side of his head - sending him reeling onto the floor. Looking up, half stunned and fully drunk, he could just about make out the blurred shape of a Brutor male standing above him and what looked like a boot about to hit hi....

Darkness, there's nothing like it in the world, so quiet, so peaceful, so.... turbulent? Jorgan slowly came too, the light causing his eyes to flutter while they adjusted.

"Wha...where am I?"

A sweet voice floated through his ears..

"Your in medical, seemed like Marlus thought you were giving out bad vibes."

"Mar...? Wait, what..."

"The medi-drone says that you should be fine, no neural damage and no physical damage.... that should last anyhow."

"Bah, my head feels like it's been in a compression vat. Remind me not to drink Matarian ale again."

"I think you should be more worried about Matarian boots..."

The sweet voice let out a soft chuckle that seemed to float in the air..

"Oh, I'm Vereio by the way... I believe we met a few months ago..."


"Halt recording.."

Meklon shakes the bottle and finishes the final dregs, then throws the bottle over into the corner of the room. Not hearing the usual shatter, he looks behind him and see's a small cushioned area...smirking, he turns back to the holo-recorder...

"Continue recording.."


That was the day my parents first truly met and they quickly started courting. Within a couple of years, human nature had soon ensued and I had been concepted - it was now 78 EST (23314 AD) and suprisingly, not much had changed. My parents had married and setup home on New Caldari Prime, obviously I was still in utero so I had no real cares for the world at the time.

79 EST (23315 AD) came and I was born 3 months into the new year under the name of Micheal De-Matzeo, first born of Jorgan and Vereio De-Matzeo.. also, their last born.

My childhood was as normal as any Caldari's, I was sent to the various business schools required for a future administrative employee and trained in the mysterious arts of calculus and cost effectiveness.

93 EST (23329 AD) appeared as though it was around the corner, my parents had both been called away to the yearly livestock presentation in Aunenen once again so I was boarding at the business school for that month.
I still remember the words as though they were said to me yesterday, though I believe it is more the fashion they told me then the words themselves.

"Your parents are dead."

Bang... what, you WHAT!!! Why not just take a sledgehammer and bring it down on my shoulder while your about it. I can't describe how I felt... or what I did, I just know that when I woke up I was on a transport to the State War Academy School in Kisogo and someone had stuck implants on my face, in the back of my head and in various other parts of my body. I was not amused, I was not happy but saying that, I was not unhappy either... I was content, I was...alone.


97 EST (23333 AD) rolled up and I had been chosen as a prime candidate to become one of the next generation pod pilots. It meant nothing to me at the time apart from the chance to get away from all the stupid people at the academy. People, I never really got on with people, I found them, the majority of the time, stupid and ineffective. I'd be happy in my own pod, alone, my own space in space. I couldn't wait, so I carried on with my studies and tests and waited for the day.

106 EST (23342 AD) My graduation from the Academy and the start to my pod piloting life...

106 EST (23342 AD) Yes, so I had managed to pass through my years at the academy, well I say pass - I would probably say fly was a more appropriate term. Creme de la creme... pah, I had more competition during my swimming classes. So there I was, a fresh faced cadet, my new pod pilots license aswell as my newly designated name, Meklon. I admit, it did seem to be a strange choice, but it grew on me and I on it and we melded together our newly form consious... Micheal was soon forgotten and Meklon was born.

It was with great calm that I first entered the shimmering skin of the capsule, it's soft biological skin, folding over my hand as I touched it. I remember the orgasmic sensations that ran through my body as the internal organs of the pod slowly and methodically connected to the bio-implants now scattered around my body. The feeling of the pod's oxygenated liquid slowly trickling it's way down my throat, filling my ears, my nose seeping around my eyeballs. There was a certain excitement flowing around my body... but more importantly, the silence... no people, no voices... bliss.

Then it all ended, the pod neural interface kicked up, the sound of a thousand screams went through my now digitised audio sensors, the perfect darkness became a flood of the entire spectrum, more so than I ever realised were visible and the more disturbing part of it all, the memories, the raw emotion... it was all released by the neural interfaces. My body shook, causing one of the cables connecting to my cranial implant to stretch, tearing the skin - causing the pod to initiate it's emergency systems, jettisoning the liquid out of it's hull and dropping my convulsing body on the floor.

Too many memories.


The med-drones quickly fixed me, patched a few memory blockers into my implant sub-routines - nothing I'd have to worry about again.

I was quickly ushered back to my pod, this time the sequence went through with no problems, just as quickly I was placed into my Ibis and practically kicked out of the station with no further guide or instructions.

Great, just great.

There's that sledgehammer again... BAM, you didn't need your legs did you? Oh sorry... they're gone now.


I flew around the surrounding systems for a few hours, not opening his comm systems, just aimless flying. The comms light flashed..

"Incoming transmission from Sulfon, do you accept?"

"Put it through."


What followed next was brief... Do I want to join who now? The X Organisation... I get to do what I want..sure.

That was simple, I was now a member of The X Organisation, brilliant.


19 hours later I gave my notice headed out to Villore and decided to form my own corporation, I hadn't gone to the best buisness schools in Caldari just to be someone's personal mining slave. As such, on 02/05/106 The Station X LAN Corp was formed.

I stayed with the corporation for a month before I was thrown on the side, my assistant took over the company with a very clever business manouver - I should have seen it coming. Unfortunatly, they started trading beyond the lines I initially formed so I cut my cord and was introduced to Flashpoint (Then CEO of Adeptus Asartes) by a close friend of mine by the name of Solid Snake. The man who introduced me to the plight of the Matari and really the man who changed my life.

It was while I was with Adeptus Asartes that the Matari ways were molded into my own, infact it was near the end of my stay with them when it happened.


The heartless roids tumbled slowly in their beds while the mining team of Adeptus Asartes slowly ground their way through them with the then top of the range XeCl Drilling Beam I's. It was during this operation that several Amarrian ships jumped into the belt and proceeded to lock and scramble us down. Unable to move or escape, we sent out our SoS signals, but no-one replied. The turrets exploded with noises I will never forget.... but... why.


Sledgehammer in the ribs..Son of a B!.....


Our ships blew up in a burst of metal fragments and light... just as quickly our pods were scrambled.


The explosions rocked my pod... I was in one piece... the Matari I was with... gone. The scramblers were released and laughter poured in over the comms.

In frustration, I piloted my pod towards the nearest ship, but it's shields just bounced me harmlessly away. Cursing, I returned quickly to our local station and was soon jumping back into the belt in my only combat capable ship, a Kestrel (Yes, I know). Needless to say, I was back in a pod within seconds...but this time I felt something I had not felt for a long while as I watched the Bane Torpedo approach my pod... I felt.... pride.

It was that darkness again, people describe the destruction of your real body to the activation of your first clone as a quick and rewarding experience. Bollocks, quick - get real, I didn't even notice I was me again till I was coughing up green goo out of my lungs while my bladder and bowels released themselves all over the floor. Yes that was such a rewarding experience for me. Please, next time can I have someone jumping up and down on my head just to make the transfer that little bit more interesting.

Cloning, no thanks - I'd rather just not get podded next time if it's all the same, cheers.

So, after the med-drones had checked to see my neural pathways were in the right place and that my eyes were actually in my head, instead of you know, being attached to my knee caps or anything, I stumbled out of the cloning lab, still in my birthday suit, and slowly crawled along the walls to my apartment.

A couple of days later, Adeptus Asartes closed down - and I moved onto the Deep Core Mining Inc. corporation. Woo, 2 months of perfecting my ability to shoot rocks and give ore to someone else.

Needless to say, that didn't last long.

09/10/106 - I was approached by a formed member of Adeptus Asartes, another Deteis who went by the name of Antman. He told me that this new corporation, Codex Astartes was a sister corporation of the Adeptus but it mainly had an aggressive approach towards their opposition (ie - people who didn't agree with us). So that was my first step into the world of true combat.

During the month and a half I was part of the Codex, I learned quickly the main aspects of fleet combat. Listen to you commander and don't get shot, hell I can do that... and I did it so well I was soon promoted to Fleet Commander. It was great, other pod pilots lives in my own hands - diving towards the enemy to lock them down and scramble them, the pretty explosions when our enemies pods exploded and splattered our fleets ships with that sticky green goo we all live our space fareing lives in. Ah bliss - apart from the fact at least 40% of the pilots I was in command of were retarded.

I mean, seriously, if you were given a command to hold your position and not attack the enemy fleet, would you :

A) Follow orders
B) Ignore orders, jump in and then run away..
Or C) Ignore orders, jump in and then attack the large fleet - getting insta popped, making the rest of us jump in to rescue you. Causing more havoc, losing half of your fleet?

Answers can be directed to Kal Jericho, with a self - you need therapy certificate.


28/11/106 - Codex Astartes was disbanded, Dark Tech Enterprises was founded, another one of antmans creations, this time however, we weren't in the combat side of things, we did .... stuff, lot's of stuff.

I spent the next three months learning the intricacies of piloting the Gallente Megathron, that button blows up the ship the rest of them do other stuff. Yeah, I liked the training course - aim and shoot, turn around and warp - never take a magnet into a pod (Bad things happen).

03/03/107 - Dark Tech Enterprises shut it's doors and sold off it's assets, apparantly our stuff wasn't good enough anymore, so we all moved on. I ended up blowing roids up for another couple of days until I recieved my next invitation....

By this time, I was.... how do you say... bored.

There's only so many times you can spend your life grinding away knocking bits and pieces off of roids. Ohh, look, that one looks like the Amarrian Emperor... ah no, more like the arse of a slaver hound - what's the differance you may ask? Well, the emperor has more hair.

So it was with some joy that I got home late on 05/03/107 and found a message waiting for me in my personal message box. Opening it up slowly and with a little bit of worry (I mean, would you really look forward to opening up a message from someone called GodSmack?) ... but it wasn't bad, come to think of it, under certain circumstances - it may actually have been a good thing. An invitation for a job, not just any job, well actually yes, it was for any job - Come and join the Sonnema corp, do what you want and we'll back you up doing it.

After several shots of hard liquor I contacted the CEO, a man named Amish, blurted some rubbish out and then ten minutes later, turned out I was part of Sonnema... brilliant. Though the one thing I forgot about at the time the good old liquidation of the majority of my things and then moving from Paara all the way to bloody Mimen.

Great fun... that is, if your idea of fun is all about getting yourself tied up onto a log of wood, your hands and feet shackled then placed over a fire while several natives of some primitive world dance around you screaming "Woooga Wooooga".. then yes, fun.

But that's were the story starts to ebb, as during my trip to Mimen I realized two things.

1) Hard liquor and pod piloting generally don't mix
2) Concord should not be fired upon


Crap...

A pod...

A bloody pod...

My stuff in a can I can't carry - damn, why hadn't someone already produced tractor beams.

Then to cap it off, an old "friend" of mine coincedntally was in the area and helped himself to my belongings.

Cheers Oeilla, first take my corp then my stuff, bastard.


It just summed up my feelings for people - well, I think I just did, bastards.

So, doing the only thing a pilot in a pod could do, I turned around and set course for the nearest station - though, and I really would like to thank him, my love of Amarrians suddenly came to an all time high as a friendly pilot by the name of VitaminB decided to help me with my travels - a near instant travel to my latest clone.

THANK YOU.


19/06/107 - I believe this is where my freedom fighting days really started, I was approached in the early hours by two pilots who were currently in employment by the Republic Of Freedom, well, I say two members, one of them was the CEO (Gerblitz) and the other turned out to be a future good friend of mine (CreepingDeath).

I was quickly accepted into the Republic Of Freedom and soon showed my prowess of downing the slave traders and their protection. Unfortunatly, things went too well and the pirates of the local area (Ylandoki) took notice of us and amassed a force we had no chance against.

06/07/107 - The Republic Of Freedom has been ran out of Ylandoki and I had been reduced to mining bits of rock again to recoup my losses, I swear, Deep Core Mining Inc were always there to pick up the pieces of me..


"Ah, your back again Meklon."

"Just give me my ship and my nominated belt."


Hahaa, you are crap, your gonna mine these roids for the rest of your life.
Have a good day.

Oh, and I think you might want these...

An Ibis, a god damn Ibis - If I wasn't one quarter sober I would slap that giant chicken off of your god damn head.

I later learnt that mixing Drop, Mind Flood and Liquor was a bad idea.


12/07/107 - I recieved a message from Gerblitz asking me to get in contact with his current boss, apparantly there was a position open for someone with my abilities.

I warned him if the word roid popped up once I would throw him out of the airlock.
Infact, if you look out of one of the windows of the observation deck in the Republic Fleet Testing Facilities station in Gulfonodi, you can still see a bit of biomass floating around.


Anyway, I was invited to a private communications channel, and that is when my Freedom Fighting days raised to a new level. Those first few minutes during the recruiting speel, which I still feel to these days was directed at me alone - my heart stirred once more and I felt the blood pump...


Yes I will join you..

I will join the Minmatar United Freedom Front..

I will give my life to the cause..

I will give my life to our cause brother..

My brother..

Biggus Tankus.


"Computer - end recording and store file."

"Processing...file stored."


Hitting several controls on the holo recorder, the console's light displays faded to the friendly darkness Meklon had known so well. Taking another bottle from his 'business cabinet', he popped the lid pulling out his hand held PDA console from his pocket.

Placing the bottle on the floor after taking a quarter of it's contents down his throat (though at least half of that must have gone down his chin), he reached behind his head and fiddled with the cranial implant attached to his skull (which looked more like a chunk of metal had just been placed against the back of his head and knocked into place with a steel toe-capped boot and a screwdriver) and began to view the Electus's private GalNet...

Sisters of Eve Station, Inder

The camera drone's eye pans across a ramshackle office, a strange mix of antique furnishings and the height of modern technology. Eva sits curled up on a threadbare sofa, staring into space past a sheaf of data specs written in the arcane shorthand of science. She frowns slightly, tapping the crystalline datasheets against her knee, then smiles slowly, nodding to herself.

Sitting up, she beckons to the drone, which wobbles closer.

"Igor, open a channel to EM HQ in Gulfonodi. Aim it at Meklon..."

The drone chirps agreeably to itself, whirring and smoking as it extrudes a small comms array that looks like it might once have been an ECCM unit.

"Start recording...."

For a moment, she freezes, argumentative thoughts flickering across her face. Then she takes a deep breath, flashes a smile, and forges into the message.

"Mek, I've been looking through some old papers from Pator Tech. There's some stuff here..."

She bites thoughtfully at her bottom lip, troubled again, but carries on.

"There's some stuff here that may... Well, there's this study on the old military-grade hard-socketing and heavy implants... Ways to... well, lighten an interface."

She waves her hands aimlessly in the air, looking for words that don't exist.

"There's lots of stuff it won't affect, can't upgrade the performance or do much about the look of it - can't change the mounts once they're in, you see... She breaks off, making a face, knowing she's stirring troubled waters and lost for the words to describe something usually meted out in mathematics, pristine and harmless numbers that sang to her, but were nothing but a wall to others.

She sighs, a look of naked sorrow slipping into her eyes.

"Anyway, there's a pretty simple process to change how they... feel... make it less... heavy. But it's kinda... well, if you're interested we can talk about it."

She lobs the datasheets onto the desk as she turns her back on the drone, head hanging, lost, for once, for words, and dismisses the drone with a wave.

The now familiar site of Meklon's Navy Megathron appeared on the star-line outside of Gulfonodi X-15 Republic Fleet Testing Facilities, her hull still smoking from the beating it had just taken while carrying out another of Sistran Hednur's missions.

"Republic Fleet station, this is Electus Matari vessel The Wizard requesting docking permission.."

"Please hold one second while we verify docking permission...... docking permission granted. Please head towards docking bay 12 and prepare for docking clamps to be connected..."

"Roger that station, docking in progress."

The best way to complete a day's work, returning home with no losses...

A small vibration rippled through the pod, the docking clamps securing their hold on Meklon's pride and joy, taking her back to her depot of rest.


The various rumbles of the pod ceased as the interface between pod and ship disconnected (due to health and safety) during the ship transit, Meklon was once again bathed in the darkness in had come to love and hide away in.

Another rumble, which could only mean the pod was getting prepared for ejection.. this was always quite annoying - these damn drones don't understand that the pod should be pointy side up so I don't fall out of the damn thing when they open it up...

But as per usual, the common sense sub-routine of these particular maintainance drones was obviously on the blink... the pod hatchway opened.

Ah, there's nothing quite like the sensation of the sudden torrent of pod goo pouring out of the hatch... leaving me hanging upside down in the god damn intestine's of the bloody thing. Now, that alone isn't too bad... the more annoying part is the sudden bursts of sound and light... always happens, but it's not something that's easy to get used to.

Yeah, sure.. 'YOU'.. could get used to it, but I'm sure compared to me you probably have the luxury of cranial implants that fit your head properly... and drones that put your pod the right way up. But no, I digress, I would get angry.. but after it happens the first couple of times, you sort of get used to the pull of the cranial pipe, so the pain becomes synonamous of leaving the pod.

Well, after the fun of getting disconnected from my outer skin things went a little smoother : You know how it is, I'm sure everyone has their own little routine for when they leave the wetness of their pod. Personally, there's nothing more important for me than to get dressed then visit my business cabinet for a couple hours of serious negotiation with the bottle.


As I came through the door, the first thing I noticed... the lights were on.. odd, but meh, it's been a long day - must have forgotten..and guess what... After checking the security tapes a little later on... it turned out I was right!


Anyhow, my handy NeoCom messanger decided to let me know that I had a few messages to view...

"MEKLON... YOU HAVE 4 MESSAGES... MEKLON... YOU HAVE 4 MESSAGES... MEK......"

Yeah, you get the message..

"Play all."


Just the usual stuff, a couple of my mineral contracters just wanted to say that delivery was en-route, the third one got my interested though, someone who obviously had a very bad childhood..hell, I couldn't even pronounce his name... AKSCJDNE22... well, apparantly he was trying to sell ISK?? I mean what the hell, why would I *WANT* to buy money?? Once again, all I can say is ... people....why?

The final one caught me by suprise... to say the least...


"Final message, delivered by Electus Matari interal GalNet for Evanda Char..."

"Play message.."


What is it with words deciding that you no longer need them.... they seemed to all disappear and sink into the floor around me.... my heart trying to do the same. She was the only person who seemed to understand the plight and misery these implants have caused.

Sure, they sort of work and they do allow me the ability to pilot the ol' pod, but I admit there have been times when I could teminate the various clones I had around the galaxy and then terminate my own. The bottle helped alot of course, in a way, we had become good friends... though me the more needy of the two.

That damn itch again, always hiding there, guess it's time for another quick visit to the cabinet.


"Prepare a reply message...."

"Confirmed, please enter..."


Reaching behind my head, the metallic itch, why does it never stop... and the flesh...so...inhuman...


"Eva, I ... thank you for the interest shown in my....implants and the old technology that goes behind them. I would be very interested in any research that you may have to hand which could...lessen the...."

There it is, the long pause.... a thousand words said at once with the raw emotion that can never really be expressed...

"...weight that I carry. I'm sure you understand that I would have to look into the research carefully... I am... not really a fan of any operations which add more ... how can I put it ... "

Another long pause, damn they can be irritating sometimes, but when those words run away, well, there's not much you can really do about it..

"...no... which will take away more of me, then I am.. very apprehensive. My past...experiences do make it a difficult situation. But please, do feel free to expand on these...techniques... they sound......yes, anyhow, I look forward to seeing this data.....

End recording, send it...."


..ah back to you my old friend... let us discuss this night with a few of your twins...maybe we can stop this itch if enough of you come out of the cabinet... maybe, just maybe the precious thoughts for her could come out instead.....

The Wolf hangs in the void, haloed by its own crown of thorns, streams of painful blue, the lurid gold of tachyon beams, caught in a seemingly endless moment of waiting... capacitor levels plummetting while the armor repair nanites clawed plates back into some sort of fighting shape, then reversing, power levels rocketing back up as fresh damage slammed into the new repairs...All the while the little ship fights its way through the clawing stasis webs, flung back and forth by missile impacts, struggling to align on the cold blue star...

And out, something between a laugh and a scream thankfully drowning in the viscous fluid of my pod. A loving thought gently strokes the armor repair units back into life, another shutting down the hardener, letting its overheated circuits steam into the cold mesh of the warp tunnel.

My hands are shaking, and I can feel that fierce, feral grin stretching my lips.

Somewhere inside me, there is a tiny, frail voice that wants to cry, to curl up against a strong shoulder and be comforted, to feel safe, just for a little while.

The grin keeps it silent. Eventually, I hope it'll disappear. Until then, well... one day at a time. And today, I didn't die.

I call that a score.

By the time I'm showered and bounding up the stairs to my office in Inder, I'm all grin. A fresh stack of Angel Operations Manuals were being unloaded in the docking bay, while the box in my hands held the precious haul of hardware components including four of the sleek, one-thought trigger mechanisms that made Angel weaponry quite so dangerous.

My weaponry now.

I really call that a score.

As soon as I get into the office, my eyes go to the NeoCom, see the tiny white light blinking. I know without checking who the message is from. Well, one of two...

My hand pauses, hovering milimetres above the console.

Don't open it...

You'll only hurt him...

You can never fix the memories...

He'll hope too much...

Just leave it...

Instead, I lower myself into my chair, turning thoughts over in my mind, trying to think... how to explain...

Then my hand goes out, pushes a different button.

"Access archives." I page back through the index of images until a grainy, juddering thumbnail comes into view. I drag it onto the main screen with a fingertip.

"Play." My voice is barely a whisper.

The sound kicks in while the video is still a mess of static. Screams and the echo of heavy projectile fire against a fragile hull. It's the emp bursts causing the disruption on the screen; I count them, estimating gun size and rate of fire from the rhythm of the static - an intellectual exercise to distance myself from what I'm seeing.

Shapes rush through the static, screaming and pounding on the bulkheads to be let out. The video clears up in a lull in the firing, focuses in on a girl sitting in a corner, pale and thin... far too thin, smudges of stolen makeup artfully applied to widen her eyes, breathing shallowly against the constraints of the cloth strips that bind her chest beneath the coverall - anything and everything to keep the appearance of a child, and the tenuous safety that offered.

In the midst of the panic, she sits with her eyes shut, her back pressed to the quivering wall, palms pushed back against the metal, listening to the combat with every nerve, almost yearning herself out through the hull and into the freedom of space.

I brush her image with a fingertip, wishing I could go back in time and tell her that it would be OK, show her the amazing things the future had in store for her.

In the last frame, the instant between the first light streaming in from the hull breach and the sudden darkness as the container walls slam down before jettison... as she turns her head aside, away from the light, I freeze it, looking at the heavy projection of blackened metal between her shoulderblades, sunk into flesh and bone with savage hooks.

I know I can't just leave it.

"The Museum of Human Errors", Sisters of Eve Station, Inder

Teeth gritted, I finally drop the bag to the airlock floor; it lands with a heavy metallic thud, so I let it lie there while I lean against the wall and wait for my arms to stop aching.

If I'd thought, I would have used a gravsled... or got a drone to carry it...or a bloke... but once I'm on to an idea I tend to go the most direct route. Which brings me here... with a very heavy bag.

The Museum is my corp's little grim joke; a refrigerated hanger where we keep the frozen remains of those pirates unfortunate enough to try it on when we're ready for them.

Iohan spends a lot of time here, but thankfully not today. There are things I don't want to know about my corplets.

Breath misting, I brace myself and haul the bag in, walking down the line of morgue lockers to one at the far end. The bag hits the floor again, narrowly missing my feet; I'm glad to be rid of it.

This particular slice of the meat rack belongs to Rixx Smiths, sole possessor of the dubious honour of being in here twice.

His first error was thinking he could kill a Vagabond in one shot. From a Rifter.

His second error was in not learning from the first one.

In spite of this persuasive evidence of impaired mental function, Rixx Smiths was about to make his first contribution to science. Lucky him.

The metal of the drawer is uncomfortably cold to the touch, moreso because I have grip it quite hard, brace off its neighbour with my foot and really tug to get it open. Rixx was quite a hefty fellow. It crosses my mind that I have no idea who managed to move him up here, or how. Not an easy task, with someone who is, literally, dead weight.

Right. Ignore the fact it's a dead guy, turn his head, check his neck... Yep, there at the base of his skull, the interface socket of a Deadeye Hardwiring.

I notice the irony there and have to try not to laugh.

When an implant is put in your skull, the implant's connections grow in and link with the neurons in the brain, forming a delicate, massively interconnected network of wondrous beauty and complexity. Once they're in, it's impossible to remove them without destroying one side or the other, no matter how precise or delicate your instrument may be... so most manufacturers make the implants destructible, shrivelling away from the living nerves in a nanite slurry and neatly sidestepping any massive CONCORD fines for corporate manslaughter.

So the chances of me getting the hardwiring out of Rixx's head in one piece are practically zilch.

Of course, I don't need to.

I just need a good swing with this lumphammer...

[size=24px]BAM![/size]

Igor's camera focuses in obediently on the shard of metal on Eva's palm; her hand still trembling slightly from the extertion of extracting it.

*Zoom* A small shard of silvery metal about 2 cm long

*Zoom* The smooth metal surface fills the screen.

*Zoom* A silvery landscape stretching off in all directions, its surface lightly scored with twisting trails, like the remains of tiny rivers in the desert.

"OK, Igor, hold it there. Record this message and then pang it off Mek, eh?"

She takes a deep breath, then relaxes slightly; with the camera focused on her palm, she doesn't have to worry about her expression. She stares in space past the camera, putting it all together in her head.

"Mek, what you're looking at now is a fragment of a defunct implant under an electron microscope. So we're looking the nanometre kind of level.

As you can see, the implant is made of pretty sturdy stuff, but you see those tracks in it? Those are... err, well, essentially erosion... from stray nerves that kind of... try to mate with the metal.

Anything unconnected is like this big, dark void... Your brain hates it, your nerves try to explore it... and given half a chance, gel with it."

A pause. She chewed at her bottom lip, thinking again.

"The old hardcase style of implants are simply too solid; there's nothing for your body to get to grips with. They're just this..." There's no word. Nothing she can think of. Her hand clenches around the metal in frustration. "They feel... heavy... but absent... and always so... so damn alien..." She chokes off for a moment, too much emotion in her voice. A drop of blood beads on the side of her closed fist, then drops away, out of camerashot.

"But that's the part that can be fixed, to an extent. Like sanding down plas-boards so you can paint them. Make nanoscopic holes in them, help the nerves to grip..."

She clasps her hands together, rubbing a thumb over her knuckles anxiously.

"There's a few side-effects... nothing drastic but... it's like having a new part of you, so there's no telling how it will feel until the young nerves know what "normal" feels like. And the process itself isn't painful but it can be... kinda... well, emotional... It's hard to explain... But it's gradual... nothing drastic."

Her voice trails off; there's a sigh, then the drone glances up to catch a hopeful smile. "Anyway, it might be of interest. I'm attaching some relevant papers to the datapacket - take a look, see what you think."

A flash of the cheekiness returns as she winks at the drone and murmurs "Eva out".

Static.

A dim light crept through the remaining light sources within the room, the place looked like a wreck. The usually tidy desk where the GalNet console stood, now upturned and apparantly, not in a working condition.

I was lost in transition, surrounded by the remains of my close friends their empty bodies scattered around the room, slithers of their fragile shell covering the floor and stuck into my hands.


But it was good, the darkness was keeping me good company and the friendly ingestion of the various bottles had helped me enough as not to feel their rebelion of scarring my hands. As per usual, the itch was still there... though, once again thanks to my good good friends, it wasn't anywhere near as annoying as it usually was.

Yet.... something was still there, eating away at.... what? What the hell was it? Why... god damn it..

Oh, another bottle goes flying into the ceiling, the shattering glass sprinkles over the room... there's nothing quite like a glass shower...especially when drunk, as it does seem like a good idea at the time.

The sound of glass on metal...*CLINK*... at least there are parts of me that won't get cut...


"...MEKLON, YOU HAVE ONE NEW MESSAGE.... MEKLON, YOU HAVE ONE NEW MESSAGE...."


"Shut up!!! You stupid machine! I can't stand your noise. God damn you!"


NeoCom's and walls disagree with each other..... alot. Though the NeoCom did move faster... the wall had the final say.... that being : I am harder than you, therefore I say explode. And guess what, that's just what happened...

Luckily a full bottle happened to crawl into my hand.. and then shortly afterwards.... the darkness took over my vision and my body decided to sleep.....