Swinging Lucifer's Hammer

The following work of fiction is my entry into Mord Fiddle's Lives in Low Sec writing contest. It is based on several true stories.


The wrench slipped from his gloved hand and tumbled, end over end, down into the bowels of the Station dock. He sighed, and pulled another one from the tool-belt laced around his hips. Fourteen hours straight on the Secondary Plasma Coil Relays and still no blue light on the monitor. Once again, he cursed Muppets and the exodus from Osti that brought them to Lisbo.  He banged the wrench into the side armor plate and watched the little flecks of Minmatar rust sparkle in the docking lights. A touch of sweat stung his left eye and he couldn't scratch it.


"Are you still pissed about Itsme and that blue freighter?"  His wife's voice crackled in his CommLink and he reflexively glanced up into the gloom, he could barely make out the outline of the Archon above him.  "I was never 'pissed' and you know it," he growled back.  "Uh huh," She said and laughed, "Tell everyone else you planned it, but don't lie to me."


He sat in the Manticore cloaked off the hi-sec Gate, watching.  They had talked about this, planned it - as much as anything was planned with Itsme - and now it was only a matter of things playing out.  He watched the collected gate campers buzzing around the Gate. If he could spit, he would've. But the spit might pierce the hull of the stealth bomber. Fresh out of Syndicate and Curse, the Corporation needed an "incident" to spark things. This would be it. The freighter popped into local, blue as the balls on the Caldari Citadel... the freighter was already aligning. And then, like fucking Muppets, they took the bait. Blue on blue aggression. They both protested in channels. And Rixx watched two of his cargo'd ships explode. A small price to pay for being famous. He even figured he could get the ships back, they were clearly still viable on his scanner.


Blue light on monitor three. Just a few more tweaks and he could get out of the monkey suit. The CorpLink buzzed in his ear, "This is me."  He held onto the wrench tightly, it might be the last one in his belt.  "Carrier tackled, you coming or not!?", it was Itsme of course.  He sighed and smiled all at the same time, "Where are you?"  "Fleet is up, undock and warp to me, I can't hold him forever in this thing!", he sounded slightly less mad than usual.  "On my way", he clicked out, already jetting back to the gantry and his Pod. "Was that Itsme?", Ana asked in his ear.  "Fire up the Archon baby and get into fleet, he's got another one."  He wasn't sweating now as he watched the Station crew pulling his Megathron into position.


Like a well-oiled machine the pieces fell into place almost immediately. Well practiced and maintained, the 'machine' was the Corp and the pilots that had joined since he started it back up again. Rogues, scoundrels, dregs, pirates, whatever the bastards in Empire decided to call them, each one was a proud, honorable in their own way, independent minded fighter. Wrangling them all into a cohesive machine, well that was his job. And in typical Lucifer's Hammer fashion, well, they were all drunk.


His mind felt the Megathron power up and start swinging into alignment, already the power of the Battleship coursed thru his veins. His muscles flexed and the beast responded. "The rest of the Corp is sleeping one off.", he said to Itsme as he waited to align. "No worries, Invicta is here with me."  His "eyes" told him Jakkul was undocking next to him in his Baddon. "Well Jak's here and we're in warp."


He didn't trust Invicta as far as he could throw them. Itsme might be insane, but the man knew everyone. He could put a gang together faster than a Dramiel could get point, so it didn't surprise Rixx that he already had one on the Thanatos. They'd been killing Carriers at a steady pace since arriving in Lisbo, Itsme had the nose for it, and so far his nose hadn't let them down.


"You want me undocked?", his wife asked on their private channel. "No. Keep our retirement fund parked for the time being.", he tried to say it as nicely as the Megathron would let him. But flying Gal ships always put him on edge. "I know the drill", she said wistfully, "you hate it when I fight."  "That's not it and you know it... hold on."


The fight had drifted since he entered warp and the Mega landed far from the desperate hulk of the Thanny. He only had one choice, so he pointed the beast towards the Carrier and unleashed some EC Drones in its direction. Hopefully he'd get close enough before the damn thing... exploded.  Oh well, one less Spiritus Draconis carrier in system.


The Auto-Cannons thrummed under him, above him, all around him. The bastards were coming one by one into their gang. Two Drakes were already getting hammered and then the Claymore arrived.  Immediately it started turning and aligning out, as if it had mistakenly landed in a social party for which it hadn't been invited. Itsme, Mtitus, Angor, Atro, Angor, Jushin and Dismo worked their magic like always and pinned the Claymore down. Nothing was getting away today. Rixx actually laughed as his projectiles tore thru the ships in front of them. He watched his friends, the Canes, Pests, and Ruptures firing into the night and he felt it. That thing he rarely felt in Null. This wasn't combat for God, or for ownership, or industrial might, or lining the pockets of the already rich, this was personal. These were his men, his friends, wronged by one Empire or another, tossed aside, stomped on, pummeled and forgotten. And as the Empire's Militia paid for their own arrogance with one ship after another he laughed like he had once long ago. It wasn't a happy laugh, it was madness.


The guns on the Megathron hadn't even been fired when the call came over Comms. "Rixx, you still around?", it was Jak. "I'm docked, but what'cha need?"  "Remember that Rattlesnake that was with the Carrier and ran off? I've got him on scan."


The Tempest was already sliding into position and he just knew it would... "I took the liberty of fitting a Disruptor... so no worries.", as usual his wife had taken care of things just as he was thinking them. "I still think you can read my mind", he replied as his Pod entered the ship. It unfolded on the bridge and he blinked, "God knows what is going on in there!" She said laughing.


God knows. 


He ran into the Parlor, out of breath, his heart pounding in his chest. Even in the gloom he knew something wasn't right. His Father's shape against the writhing shadows of the chair, slumped, in his mind he already formed the heart-attack... but reality wasn't kind this day. He threw up his stomach, he felt ashamed, but it wasn't something he could control. His eyes betrayed him and he slipped on the insides of his Father. His ears betrayed him next, his Mother's screams pierced the night. He skidded across the room and ripped open the forbidden cabinet, his little boy hands grasping at the large, heavy, weighted blackness of the Brommel 820 his Father once used to kill a thundering Teradon. The mounted beast loomed above him as he dashed upstairs. His imagination wouldn't stop but he couldn't think. All he saw was red against the flashes of lightning thru the open windows. Six of them, Gal every single one. One of them was on top, moving, his Mother was strangely silent. He braced himself against the walnut wall and unleashed his madness. He killed every living thing in that room that night. The fire burned out his eye and ripped open his face. He went on living, but he was dead on the inside.


He settled into the couch and mindlessly watched the scrolling news. She sat down behind him and rubbed his shoulders. They didn't talk. They didn't need to. 


After awhile he leaned back into her softness and barely above a whisper he said, "Fuck God"  She kissed his shoulder and he could feel her smile on his skin, "Who needs him."  The thought that they shared at that moment went unspoken, but they both knew what the other one was thinking. They always did.

The Haunted Hulk

He awoke with a start, the Captain's Quarters still eerily lit in that strange half-day half-night mode it seemed perpetually stuck in. His back creaked as it always did after a night on the couch. When would the restrictions be lifted and a decent bedroom be allowed by the Stations? He rubbed his eyes and thought, probably not in his eternal lifetime.


The little girl stood on the dais in front of the screens. He didn't see her at first, her presence being outside the normally empty environment of the rented office. She was plain, small and obviously Minmatarian. Her hands raised imploringly and she vanished.


"Huh" he thought as his hand hit the Commlink. His wife answered, she was always up before him no matter how early he awoke. "How did you sleep?", she asked. He smiled. Even though they couldn't share the same apartment, he silently cursed the Station once again, she could still read his mind. "About usual," he replied, "Although this morning I've seen a ghost." "That's interesting," she said in that way that wives have of saying that make you feel insignificant, "What are your plans for today?"


Before he could make a smart-ass remark that he would be forced to regret for the rest of the day, he was interrupted by several apparitions materializing from the walls. About twelve or so horribly dressed Minmatar citizens shambling across the floor. All with that imploring hand-raised plea that the little girl had perfected earlier. "I've got more of them now, with me here in the office. I may have to call you back." They were getting uncomfortably close. "Don't you dare hang up on me with ghosts in your office." There was still a smile in her voice, but it was edged with concern.


The oldest of the group stopped short and the rest waited, the amount of pleading only worsened in this paused state of affairs. "What are they doing?", his wife asked. But he barely heard her as he watched a Giant Secure Container form in the space before his eyes. It spun there lazily and he could hear crying, scratching and wailing coming from within the cargo container. The container burst into flames before his eyes. The leader, for that was all he could think of him as, looked directly into Rixx's eyes...


"They're gone now." His voice must have sounded far away. "Are you ok? Should I try and come over?" He thought about that for a second, knowing how hard it was to make that happen - it would involve a bit of daring do, some scaffolding, a ladder, a few bribes, and a death-defying swing from one gantry platform to another. "Uh, no need.  I have somewhere I need to be. Can you jump into the Impel and meet me at the Rani gate in five? Bring a few dozen med-kits and see if you can scrounge up a medical team or two?" He clicked off the Commlink before she could reply.


He called for one of his Thrashers, he needed something small and cheap. Going into high security space was no easy task, and while his wife could come and go as she pleased, it was a bit more of an issue for him. The dock manager wanted to know if he needed a crew and he waved him off, he'd handle this one alone, no reason to put anyone else at risk.


At the gate he outlined his plan and his thoughts to his wife. Most of the work would fall into her lap, since he'd be shot on sight by the sort-sighted buffoons of Concord. "I still think you're crazy, it's been five days..."  He smiled as he jumped his Thrasher in and she followed, "When have you ever known me to not..."  He became immaterial for a moment and reassembled on the other side, "... be crazy? Warping to the bookmark, follow when you can."


He arrived to an empty belt. He only had a moment, quick d-scan and he saw it, just as Concord started appearing in the belt next to him, he warped off again.  He saw the Impel land as he entered warp.  She'd know what he was up to.


This time he landed in an inferno, way closer to the sun than he liked. The Thrasher sealed up even though he was safe in his pod, automatic protection for the crew that would normally be onboard. Where was his wife? Already the police were landing, he only had a few moments. And then he saw her and the black ship emerge right on top of the can. He smiled as his board lit up like Holy Day and he was in his pod, without a ship around him.


The little girl was with him and she smiled this time. "I've got thirty or forty survivors, they're in bad shape but the meds say it's most dehydration and hunger... most of them should be ok." His wife's voice always in control. He knew the answer before he asked, "What about children?"  This hiss from space wailed in his ears, the little girl kissed him on the cheek, "The story we're getting is the bastards kept the children in another container... I'm sorry, but that one didn't make it."


The little girl, her name was Ran, smiled again and disappeared - like all good apparitions should. He didn't smile. He'd killed them when he ganked that Hulk last week. No indication the Hulk was smuggling slaves to Amarr, none at all. Goddamn nasty business.


He watched the police still circling his pod. Not a single one of them would stop and help. They punished but they rarely showed the first sign of human caring. Certainly Concord's hospitals would be better than the ones in Hevrice, but no help would come from that side. As usual. These were the self-same bastards that allowed slavery in the first place.


He watched the Impel enter warp and he followed it back to the gate.  "It's a goddamn hard universe Ran, honestly... you're probably better off dead."

RJ's Journal: Entering Providence

Entry B-217

Rixx Javix

Capsuleer - Phoenix Industrial 

Choonka

"Only two weeks since undocking from Todaki and already I'm breaking my pledge to go it alone. Angor was insistent however and you already know how he can get. I admit to a certain loneliness and the prospect of further rock banging doesn't sit well with me. We shall see how this goes, but so far the Corp seems friendly enough."

"My meager supplies and what ships I have already transported into Null Space. I looked out from my office in the Choonka station and wondered if the Merlin was sturdy enough for the trip ahead.  She is a fine ship of course, Frigate class and much better for the journey than the Cormorant.  Especially since I can't properly get that damn ship fitted anyway.  Cul says he'll be scouting me all the way down the "pipe" to PI-5, but still, the thought of leaving Empire for the first time..."

"I still get the shivers. Despite the training, the "modifications" and the endless conditioning, the first touch of the Hydrostatic fluid starts my lizard brain running in the wrong direction. Something horribly inhuman about being jammed into a cybernetic cortex, breathing fluid and seeing thru scanners. At least I haven't been podded yet. I checked on my Clone this morning, creepy goddamn thing..."

"I'm embarrassed by the size of my Merlin next to Cul's Rapier. Someday I'll fly the majestic ships, the tantalizing glimpses I've 'seen' thru the scanner and optical relays of city sized Battleships have left me wanting that more than anything. And I know there are bigger beasts where I am headed. The Academy was full of whispers about Titans and Capital Class ships of every description. The Holo-Vids don't do space justice, you have to BE in it to appreciate it. I squirm in my pod, that itch is back on the bottom of my feet. Driving me crazy. The Doc says it is subconscious planet-side ghosting, nerve tricks. Newbie problems."

"Already the Sansha lurk in the dark and we're only one jump into our 17 jump journey.  My Mother told us scary bedtime stories about the Sansha, morality plays to teach us good from evil. If only she were alive to see me dive straight into their home. But no, my attention is riveted on nothing, and yet everything. My 12 AU bubble of consciousness extends and waits for the all clear. There is much to fear here outside the arms of CONCORD.  I have no love for the Empire's police, but they do maintain control. And without control? Chaos. Which is where I am warping to now."

"The threats are numerous. Bubbles, cloaks, gate camps, reds, blues, Alliances, friends and foes and... who knows really. I've been told by everyone in the Corp that there is real isk to be made in Providence. Isk and adventure.  Which is all I want. To make my mark and... avoid complication.  We'll see how well that goes."

"Couple of close calls. But finally arrived safely in PI-5. The station is nothing at all like an Empire station, dirty, dingy and full of undesirable types. Some rough characters here, along with the Holy sheet covered ones. I could do without them, Amarrians give me the creeps."

"Spent the day ratting and hiding from the "reds" that often jump into system. I don't enjoy killing the Sansha, they seem, despite my youth, ill prepared even for my Frigate. I'd much rather be hunting those "reds" and those that live deeper into the unknown.  Already Angor, myself and a few others have started talking about combat. Soon I'll be ready for my first Battlecruiser, probably the dreaded Drake. Then, maybe then, I'll teach these "reds" a thing or two."