03-16-2015, 01:00 AM
![[Image: DDnHFJo.png]](http://i.imgur.com/DDnHFJo.png)
*
Amanda woke up, last remnants of her dreams giving their way to the grim reality. Grim? More suited for a small bridge, dimly lit cockpit of her modified for luxury and comfort Claymore class gunship was cosy and functional. The pinnacle of the design thought, even though foreign, her oufitted with cutting edge technology ship packed a decent punch. Backed up by her combat honed skills, it proved to be a difficult target for those who had a misfortune to oppose it. Had Amanda desired, she could have remained in the military part of the Corsair society, and had a Legate class dreadnought under her command, or possibly even one of those new Murmillo battleships, which had already become renown for their outstanding performance. But she had chosen a free pirate life.
Battles. Amanda had fought many of them, victorious in some of them, narrowly escaping death in others. Her people liked to say, “what doesn’t kill us makes us stronger”. And stronger she became, crushing her enemies and outmaneuvering her competitors.
Wars. Once people of the same nation, greatly changed Outcasts and Corsairs had managed to maintain a certain territorial understanding until that unfortunate development in Sigmas. All these following years of constant fighting, countless deaths, mutual hate, and what? As far as she saw, there was next to zero military progress in the war. The successful development of stabiline might eventually weaken the Outcasts, but Amanda knew it wasn’t even nearly enough for a significant change in the war to happen any soon. The self driving machine of perpetuating hate would keep them fighting, and fighting, and fighting. The Hessians … with yet another stalemate of death. There was a saying, “for every dead Hessian there come two more”. Rivers of blood flew, but everything remained essensially the same. The Core and their noses stuck into the place not their own, these strange Nomads with wild rumors about them and vague threat they posed... Enemies were everywhere, wars endless. It was glorious in the beginning, but it felt more and more a senseless slaughter now. Amanda knew many of her brethren nourished their hate for the enemy and used rage and fury as a battery for power and motive, but she didn’t. How could she hate people because they had a different way or life and happened to have been born on the other side of the line?
Piracy, life and blood of her society. There had always been much credits and cargo to liberate. In Omicrons, from Sigmas to Omegas, and even in Bretonia and Kusari hands of Corsairs reached the never ceasing traffic. It was often cheaper to pay to Corsairs than to hire a sufficient escort and still risk huge combat losses. Of course, there were well guarded convoys of especially valuable cargo, targets for those who weren’t afraid to risk their lives and ships for a greater prize. At times a particular group of Corsairs would become too greedy or stepped on wrong toes. Then the repercussion followed, to capture or kill as many as possible and discourage others from their business. But there was always more coming, and Corsairs always wanted more, more and more, as if hunger they had suffered drove them into desire to have everything in excess. And so Amanda had been. Better cargo and shares of profit in more dangerous situations, more and more money, sensory gratifications, glory in battle and delight in vanguishing her foes…
But what was she, what was she herself? Apart from a gangster and a murderer. Of course Amanda could justify her actions. She never killed without need just for the sake of it, and just as citizens had to pay taxes to their goverments who ran the place, so people were to pay taxes to those who control the space outside of the House territories. And just as Houses enforced their policy, so did her people. It was the law, and the law had always been the law of the stronger. Yet Amanda couldn’t help herself feeling like driving a train on a slippery slope on the road to hell, and when she tried to slow down, she felt only emptier. Was she becoming too soft?
Amanda tried to find a relief in relationships, to find that one she would love and be loved in return. Naturally there were enough men, and some women, interested in her, yet she had never found anything much deeper and stable than passion flavoured with convenience. Perhaps her dark soul couldn’t really love, and frankly, who would love her black nothingness under the veil of catchy clothing and gold jewellery?
*
She was looking through the viewport, beautiful pearls of life giving stars seeming cold and dull, crushed in the oppressing blackness of space, dwindling hope in the sea of despair. She peered into the bottomless depth, beaconed by its magnificience, as if drawn there by an invisible force. And she felt sinking, falling into its opened arms, past slowly moving stars. Those stars which had been barely visible became closer and brighter, one in the middle gradually growing into a tiny but distinct shape of Freeport 1, brilliant in the rays of ever shining sun. But there was more out there in the distance. And she saw it closer, dots of light turned out to be dozens of spaceships locked together in a fiery dance of death. Collimated beams cutting through space, flashes of impacts where kinetic projectiles found their targets, even for her naked eye it was obvious it would soon be over. She recognized some of the doomed vessels, a destroyer battle group making a quick job out of them, a swarm of snubcrafts preventing every attempt of escape. A wrecked Claymore was slowly spinning without control, scorched holes gaping in her unmistakable ship... and her own lifeless body trapped in a bloody heap between twisted constructions.
Amanda opened her eyes, the last image still lingering before her mind’s eye. She took several deep breaths, trying to calm down her racing heart and agitated mind. So, she died in a dream, nothing unusual. Except it didn’t seem to be just a dream. Then … was she going to die, was she even afraid of it? As a warrior, she shouldn’t be, but was she still one or had she become too soft behind her kill count? No, she had refused to die before, and she refused to die now. What she saw could happen, but it didn’t have to, she wouldn’t allow it. Amanda relaxed a little, she eluded death on many occasions earlier, she would do it again. But had she seen her death in such an exact way before? Cold fear started to creep into her heart. So, she was going to die, but what to be afraid of? Her mind was running in circles and she had to stop it. Amanda took another couple of controlled breaths and closed her eyes, only to see the image of her broken body in her mind’s eye again. She couldn’t watch it, she didn’t want to watch it! She remembered the Freeport nearby. “Freeport, peaceful Zoners,” she thought. “Zoner capitals,” appeared in her mind. Amanda smiled at the thought, her imagination depicting an ugly Nephilim lumping towards the indifferent to human tragedies lifeless construct of the station, a striking contrast to the graceful beauty of her Claymore. And as she thought about it, there appeared a Claymore too, mooring to the Freeport, just as she had done on many occasions to visit the station bar. Heartened somewhat, she decided it was what she was going to do and immediately plotted the course to Freeport 1.
*
She stepped into the bar and, as usual, subtly surveyed the environment. Here and there patrons nursed their drinks or enjoyed conversations of different level of loudness, nothing looked out of the ordinary. Yet as she approched the barman and ordered a drink, Amanda felt being watched. It wasn’t unexpected on this little piece of neutral territory, potentially filled with enemies and their spies, however it occurred to Amanda she was doing exactly what would lead to the unfortunate development she was trying to avoid. She turned around, looking for the place to take a sit and searching for the source of her unease. It took just a moment to find both. A woman, alone at a table near the wall, was looking at Amanda, and slightly smiled when Amanda met her eyes. As Amanda neared the table, the woman smiled openly and asked, “What are you looking for?”
The question took Amanda off guard, it was her who was being watched! Yet, as Amanda wanted to answer negatively, it occurred to her it would be a lie. She came here for something indeed, something she didn’t know yet herself. With these thoughts wave of warmth and reassurance washed over her.
“I came for answers,” Amanda replied.
The woman nodded, and looked deep into Amanda’s eyes. “Are you afraid to die, or to live?”
Amanda hesitated. The woman seemed to know too much, yet Amanda’s worry drowned in these eyes staring at her. “Both,” she finally answered.
The woman spoke quieter. “Tomorrow there will be a trap. If you warn your people, The Command will know they were tipped off and find those responsible. If you will not, all will die”. With these words, she rose up from the chair and started towards the exit door.
“Wait!” Amanda exclaimed. “Who are you? Why are you telling me this?”
“You will know when you are ready,” the woman answered without turning her head.
“Ready for what?” Amanda continued, but the woman was gone.
*
Amanda set to Cadiz immediately. The next day she and her buddies were going to hit their usual lane in Omega-3, a supposedly ordinary piracy day, and she had only so much time to decide what to do. Amanda briefly considered telling her group at least some part of the story, but that simply wouldn’t work. For some unknown reason some unknown woman told her they shouldn’t go on their usual spot the coming day because there would be a trap, and she saw a whole bretonian battlegroup deployed for such purposes in a… she didn’t even know what was that. They would put her on laugher, or worse suspect her wanting them out of the game. Besides, she were told it would have other consequences. Not to not go there herself? Amanda was now fairly sure they would all die there. The only way remained was to go together with the others and do something to avert the upcoming slaughter. But what?
“Foolish child,” she heard a voice, one most beautiful, full of love and acceptance. “You want to save everybody, and you think you have a black heart? You couldn’t go with the military sending people on death, but you are ready to die yourself because you don’t value your life enough.”
“I don’t know…” Amanda said, tears covering her eyes. She turned her head around, checking just in case if there is anyone in the cabin, but she knew already the voice had been in her head. “All right, I am going mad,” she thought.
Amanda heard a silvery chuckle, and a calm feeling of loving embrace washed over her. “Oh, dear child, do you think there exist only what you already know about? Were it so, the way of evolution would be a really short one indeed.”
“Who are you, what are you, are you God?” Amanda demanded, relaxing a little.
She heard an uncomparably beautiful laugher again. “Most certainly I’m not God, my dearest child, at least not in the way you understand it. My name is Iaei, I’m just another being like you and everybody around you are”.
“But where are you?” A thought crossed her mind and she voiced it. “Are you dead?”
“Death is a relative notion, my dear. Death is birth and birth is death. I’m obviously quite alive.”
“Am I going to die too?” Amanda thought.
“Everybody will die in their due time, in the way you think about death.”
Worries about the coming battle returned to Amanda.
“Don’t forget yourself, child. Do your best but don’t become attached to the result.”
*
And so Amanda did the next day. She told her buddies she had a certain intel and urged them to be ready to retreat before too late. Instead of her Claymore, she took her old Gladiator, effectively forsaking any good share in the loot, and insisted on her making sure the tradelane was disrupted from the Bretonia side a fair distance from the main group. Thus time was passing, she were waiting there, ready to spring in action at the moment’s notice, alone against the whole fleet. No, she wasn’t alone, she knew her new friend was somehow near, and in the face of danger, perhaps more serious than ever before, she felt calm, fulfilled and accepted, with a hint of long lost happiness.
The convoy arrived from the other side of the lane. Apart from the usual escort her group could easily deal with, extra ones began to disgourge when her people closed in. Reluctantly ready to expect trouble, Corsair ships set on the escape route before the extra fighters were ready to bring their full might to bear. Many quickly outran any possible pursuit, some were disrupted or helping their brethren. Unsurprisingly, the Bretonian battlegroup arrived too, eager to tear the Corsairs apart. Immediately Amanda disrupted the main destroyer and two of its escort gunboats. The rest of them hurried to the main battle, sparing only two fighters for the annoying Gladiator. Not risking any more, Amanda accelerated away from the Bretonians. Tense long range disruptor skirmish, and she was safely out of the effective range of the two fighters, the previously disrupted destroyer and two gunboats accelerating at full capacity towards the main group.
*
Many didn’t return, but it could have been worse. The atmosphere was depressing, those who returned mourned their fallen friends, and few wanted to risk to go to the same pirating place again, at least for a while. Which meant they had to get into some other spot, and good places were never unoccupied. A Corsair didn’t kill a Corsair, but competion had always been a fair game, and the strong set the rules. Amanda could assist her buddies in claiming a new place, perhaps she could even lead many of them, but it wasn’t what she wanted. More and more Amanda felt she was done with this way of life, and recent events were like a bullet point.
And Amanda missed her friend, that strange being from the place beyond. Iaei talked with her from time to time, but the contacts were short and tended to leave Amanda wanting to ask and say more, and only increasing her longing for being in the company of her friend, if it could even be called this way. Her friend? Mother? Beloved? Distant enigma? Perhaps all of that, Amanda admitted. And she wanted to be with Iaei, always, all the time, to never leave Iaei, and for Iaei to never leave her. Less and less Amanda wore her casual clothing, preferring best dresses and pieces of jewellery, as if Iaei could see her. “So silly,” Amanda thought, looking at her refrection in the mirror. “I behave like a little girl.”
“It’s not silly, my dear”, she heard the familiar voice in her internal ear. “Striving for the union is natural for everyone. We were all One once. We are all One still, on our highest level of existence, all of us bearing the spark of the One. It’s the manifestation of our individuality that separates us from each other, for manifestation means limitation."
Amanda was delighted Iaei was there again, Iaei’s words music to Amanda’s soul. “I missed you,” Amanda said, with a little sadness in her voice. “So very, very much” she admitted in her thoughts.
"I know you want to look beautiful for me, and I admire that,” Amanda heard in return, bathed in love with every word, as it was so often in Iaei's presense.
“I wish you could be here with me, near me…” Amanda added silently.
She felt a gentle hug, welcomed pleasant sensation of the loving touch. Gradually the embrace became firmer, sultry in its immobilizing tightness, strangely alien yet soothingly comfortable. Amanda wanted to close her eyes and take a blissful nap, weakly she tried to get more space, but she was too tired and needed a rest, a long deep sleep…
No, it wasn’t long. Amanda was still on the same place near the mirror. Amanda? No, that name reminded her of life she was done with. “Amanei”, a thought appeared in her mind. Yes, it suited her, she felt affinity with it. Amanei looked into the mirror and smiled. “One’s struggles to find unity without are ultimately bound to failure, for it can only be truly found within,” she thought. Amanei turned around, studying her reflection. She felt approval, joy and satisfaction filled her. “It’s time to contact Kelly at Freeport 1, she will have new documents prepared by my arrival,” Amanei realized. Oh, she noticed with amusement, she knew the name of that woman!
*
Soon Amanei arrived at Freeport 1. As she entered the passages of the station, Amanei became aware of a trail behind her. Amanei knew she was comparatively safe aboard the Zoner installation, and it was doubtful the man was something more than a spy or informant, yet she didn’t want to give any leads, especially with the Bretonians possibly still wanting more blood. Instead of trying to shake him, Amanei understood, she had to wait for him and preferably initiate some sort of a contact. Amanei turned to the left and disappeared behind a corner, and before too long the man followed, pretending he was on his own agenda. As if accidentally, Amanei jogged him and apologized, making a monentarily eye contact. Without looking back, she continued on her way to the bar, feeling the trouble was over.
“I gave him a false trail to follow,” the Mistress, as it appeared only natural to call Iaei, explained. “He will not be a bother anymore.”
A few minutes later Amanei took a sit at the table where Kelly had been awaiting her. Kelly smiled and passed papers and datachips under it. “I’m glad you are with us,” she said softly, rising up to her feet.
“What do I owe you?” Amanei asked. Kelly simply shook her head with another smile and left the bar.
Amanei returned to her ship and examined her newly acquired possessions. Identity documents, both written and electronic, documentation and the transponder device for her ship. She skimmed through the data. Amanei Valerie, she read, born as a Zoner on Freeport 9, current Freelancer registration, no criminal records… Her Condor, Freelancer transponder, legally purschased and clean. Signatures, stamps… Amanei was impressed, she would be able to visit many places… Wait, her Condor? Why Condor? She had her Claymore, she loved her vessel, so cosy and efficient, there was so much… no, she understood, she had to leave it, It was just a thing, and the Mistress had other plans for it. Amanei felt pleased and satisfied with the decision. She was eager to see her new ship, her new life was about to begin.