Lieutenant Kim Ye-jin walked into Kalashnikov's for a much-needed post-patrol drink. She was a short woman of Kusari-Korean descent, with an appearance that suggested a hard life. At 40, but appearing to be in her early 50s, she was easily the oldest Lieutenant in the Revolutionary Army's ranks. It hadn't always been like that, though. At one time, she had been a respected Major with a successful career in Internal Security. Her star had been on the rise until the civil war against the Volkhan.
She had made the mistake of choosing the wrong side. Unlike so many other officers and soldiers, she had done so willingly. That choice had defined the better part of the last ten years of her life. After the Volkhan was defeated, she was stripped of her rank, found guilty of treason, and sentenced to seven years of reeducation through labor.
She had come out of the other side still mostly intact, unlike so many others. South Katorga had a way of weeding out those weak in mind or body. She had come to regret her choices and dedicated herself to proving her loyalty to the Revolution. Eventually, she was released and welcomed back into the Revolutionary Army, though without the rank or prestige she once enjoyed. Few people spoke to her outside of official duties, and even old friends avoided her. She was seen as tainted by her misdeeds, but she knew she'd earn their respect again. It was only a matter of time.
Ye-jin paused in her ruminations and noticed her glass was getting low. As she walked up to the bar, she glanced at one of the ubiquitous propaganda posters that nobody really noticed. It was a portrait of Premier Selim in the usual heroic pose. As her eyes took in the patriotic slogan at the bottom, she suddenly felt a sharp pain in her temples, bad enough to make her double over in pain. She dropped her glass on the floor. As it broke, a familiar, but unwelcome voice shouted in her head, where only she could hear it.
"ALL HAIL THE VOLKHAN!"
As soon as it came, the voice fell silent and the pain immediately ceased. Ye-jin was momentarily stunned. It couldn't be. They said they had deactivated the nerve staple, and that it would never trouble her again. Clearly something had gone wrong.
She ran out the door, past the other patrons who were doing their best to ignore her, and turned down the corridor towards the nearest medical station.
Ye-jin had honestly tried to start a new life it the Coalition. She had honestly tried, but it was not to be. Since her nerve staple had come back to life in that bar on Zvezdny Gorodok, her fate had been decided. Once again, she was no longer in control of her life. The station's doctor had hardly even tried to look into her problem, simply declaring it impossible that the staple could be acting up and dismissing her from his office. Any further complaints, as well as her attempts to see other doctors were ignored. All she could do was try to ignore the pain and do her duty.
No amount of willpower was sufficient, however. The nerve staple was a devilish piece of engineering, designed to break down the strongest will. It inflicted pain and dispensed pleasure, spoke in the subject's mind, even modified the subject's dreams. It did whatever was needed to mold the subject's innermost thoughts until they were nothing less than a pure expression of the Volkhan's will. Each day that passed saw Ye-jin's reeducation broken down just a little more.
She had finally reached her breaking point after a patrol alongside Premier Selim himself. It was the purest chance that saw her flying at his side. During the patrol, she had done her duty, as was expected of her. During the post-patrol in-flight debriefing, however, she suddenly felt a rush of hatred for the Premier. That Katzist counter-revolutionary was a traitor to the revolution, and only she remained to dispense the Volkhan's justice! Before she could stop herself, she had released a mine toward his fighter. In that moment, she was certain that she had been exposed and was going to die. It was her lucky day, though. The Premier himself dismissed it as a mere misfire, no harm done.
On that day, she knew her time with the Coalition was at an end. If she stayed, she would die a traitor's death. At the end of the day, however, it wasn't a hard choice. The Coalition she knew was gone anyway, betrayed by those dedicated to themselves rather than the Revolution. She asked for a week's leave to visit Gran Canaria, Her immediate superior didn't really want her around anyway, and approved the leave. She packed her meager belongings, and stepped aboard the shuttle, never to return.
As soon as she arrived on Gran Canaria, she emptied her bank account and exchanged her Coalition Rubles for Standard Credits. It wasn't much, but it would pay for passage wherever she chose to go. She then booked passage on the first Zoner transport she could find, not caring where it was going. It turned out to be bound for Freeport 6.
Kusari space, go figure, she thought.
Not knowing what else to do, she looked up her parents on the Neural Net. They were still living in the family home on New Tokyo. It had been over twenty years since she had last spoken to her family, but she had nobody else to turn to. She had to try. Nervously, she opened a comm channel. He father answered, looking much older, but no less strong, than the last time they had spoken. Despite the years and the abuse she had suffered since then, he recognized her instantly. His expression, however, was not a happy one.
"What do you want?"
"Father, I..."
"Stop, Ye-jin. You've made your choices and betrayed your family. I have nothing to say to you. What I told you the day you left still stands. I have no daughter."
With that, he closed the channel. When she tried to connect again, she saw that her comm code was blocked. With her only slim hope dashed, she did the only other thing she could think of. She went to the bar. Maybe a drink would help her clear her mind and decide what to do next.
She ordered a bottle of vodka, which turned out to be an excellent Coalition export, and sat down to drown her sorrows. About halfway into the bottle, an unusual looking young man wearing a pineal amulet sat down across the table from her. She spoke without looking at him.
"I'm not particularly good company right now, and you're not my type anyway."
The young Discordian just laughed.
"You look troubled and alone, which is quite a feat considering how crowded the bar is. Is there anything I can do to help?"
"Unless you know of a home for lost souls with difficult pasts, not really."
"Well..."
"One that doesn't involve converting to strange religions."
The Discordian laughed again. It was a strangely pleasant and infectious sound. Even in Ye-jin's rather dejected state, she found it lifted her mood slightly.
"In that case, have you considered Natio Octavarium? They take in all kinds and don't mind difficult pasts. You've got the look of a soldier about you, and they certainly need those."
Ye-jin thought it over a moment. She had heard of the Natio before, and met a few of its traders back in 52. It wasn't the worst idea, and she wasn't exactly in a position to be picky. As if reading her thoughts, the Discordian smiled at her.
"It seems my work here is done. Good luck on your journey."
He got up and walked away. Soon after, Ye-jin herself settled her tab and left the bar and booked a room. She'd visit Fourth Octavarium Fleet recruiting office in the morning and see what they had to offer.
The strange Discordian was right. The Fourth Octavarium Fleet was happy to recruit a soldier with Ye-jin's history. Over the course of a long conversation with the recruiter, she told him everything. Her origins on New Tokyo, her service to the Coalition, her part in the Volkhan's failed campaign against the Katzist counter-revolutionaries, the years spent breaking rocks in the gulag, and her attempt at redemption, cut short by her nerve staple coming back to life. If she was to have a new life, she needed to come to terms with her past, and that required honesty.
After her paperwork was done, she was put on a transport to Melbourne and given a complete medical examination. Unlike their Coalition counterparts, the Natio's doctors believed what she said about the nerve staple working again. They weren't able to shut it down or remove it, though. At least they prescribed medication that mitigated the staple's worst effects. She knew it wouldn't last forever, but it did allow her to function without crippling pain or the Volkhan's voice whispering in her ear. It would be enough until a more permanent solution presented itself. With her agreement to see the doctor at her duty station on a regular basis, she was approved to serve in the Fourth Octavarium Fleet.
With her experience in the SCRA's internal security, she was granted the rank of Specialist and assigned as Security Chief aboard Eureka Station. They told her it was because she knew the major players in the Omegas and that her advice would be invaluable to Ambassador Ogden. She suspected it was really because they wanted her a long way away from Tau-44 if her implant malfunctioned again. If that was what they wanted, though, she'd make the most of it. She'd lost too much to do otherwise.
She'd do her duty to the best of her ability, and hopefully find someone to remove her implant along the way.
A year and a half had passed since Kim Ye-jin had sought treatment for her condition, but fate, in the form of the Bretonian military, had intervened. Dr. Holliday had been called back to his estate for a meeting with some Bretonian official, the situation on Gran Canaria soon spiraled out of control, and her treatment was cut short. Holliday's subsequent imprisonment and Kim's new Fleet assignment meant that she was never able to pick up where she left off. After seeking other treatment options, and failing, Kim resigned herself to her fate. She accepted that she was going to die some day, as her nerve staple adapted to what treatment she had received and punished her for being a traitor to a dead man and his failed cause. It was only a matter of time. Until that day, though, she served to the best of her ability, throwing herself into her work.
For the last week, her ship, the gunboat Night Witch, had been playing a game of cat and mouse with a Hellfire Legion gunboat that had been raiding Mercantile Guild shipping in the Barrier. Every time they got close, the enemy ship slipped away before they could get into range, leaving them picking survivors out of the wreckage of broken transports and freighters. This time, though, the Lane Hackers at Mactan were feeding them data from the Spyglass Network. Now they were better able to anticipate where the enemy would strike next, and would be there when they did.
To that end, they had modified their engine emissions and IFF transmitter to disguise their identity. As long as the enemy ship didn't examine the Night Witch's power consumption curve too closely, their sensors would show them an OMG Serenity-class transport. They were flanked by a pair of OMG-tagged Camara-class freighters. The freighters were modified with for combat, with heavier armor and Fleet pilots, but to any outside observer, they appeared to be just another merchant convoy. By the time the enemy realized the deception, they'd be too close to escape again. The Night Witch's sensor officer spoke up.
"Commander, we're getting a ping from the Spyglass Network. A ship has moved to intercept, signature is consistent with our target."
"Good. Alert our escorts, but maintain course and speed. Don't let them know we've seen them."
"Yes, Commander."
Minutes passed as the intercepting ship got closer, with no sign they had cottoned on to the Night Witch's deception. As the ship passed into communications range, the comm officer reported an incoming hail.
"Octavarian ships, power down your engines and prepare for boarding. Resist or try to run, and you'll be...." The enemy commander trailed off, but voices could be heard in the background before the channel was abruptly closed. Clearly they had realized their target wasn't what it appeared to be and were preparing to escape again. Before they could turn and activate their cruise engines, though, Commander Kim ordered the Night Witch's escorts to fire cruise disruptors, preventing the enemy from escaping.
"Helm, take us in. Engineer, bring us back to full power. Weapons, as soon as we're in range, open fire. They're not escaping today."
As soon as the Night Witch entered weapons range, the firefight began in earnest. Though the Legion ship proved a skilled and dangerous enemy, the Octavarian gunboat and her escorts began to wear them down with superior firepower. The enemy ship began to show visible damage, and attempted to maneuver to keep all three ships from targeting them. They alternated between targets in an attempt to keep the three Octavarian ships off balance and on the defensive. A few lucky shots took down the Night Witch's shields, and they followed up with a torpedo. Just as Kim was about to order countermeasures and shield batteries, though, she felt a sudden pain in her head a familiar voice rang out where only she could hear it.
YOU CANNOT ESCAPE THE VOLKHAN'S JUSTICE!
The unexpected activation of her implant caused her to hesitate, and though her crew quickly compensated for the lack of orders, the lost seconds made a difference. Despite her efforts to push past the pain, she started to lose focus, she heard reports of damage to the cruise engine, and the enemy ship making good their escape.
As the pain escalated, she was dimly aware of her XO calling her name, and realized she had fallen to the deck. The last thing she was aware of as she finally passed out was pain, like every synapse in her brain was on fire, and the sound of her own screaming.
(//RP continues here, and in the following few posts)
Doctor Günter Pohl had been reviewing Commander Kim's medical files for hours now. The 37 year old doctor could scarcely believe what he was reading. Neural implants used by a dictatorial regime to control people's innermost thoughts? He had heard rumors of such things while he was in medical school, but it seemed so much like bad fiction that he hadn't believed it. Though his neuroimaging scanner could barely detect it, Kwinana's medical bay wasn't nearly as well equipped as a proper hospital, there was certainly something there. Clearly, the old rumors had some basis in reality, after all.
His train of thought was interrupted by his assistant, Dr. Reed. Monica Reed was a young physician working the final year of her residency, and Dr. Pohl had high hopes that she'd soon be able to take over as CMO on Kwinana.
"Excuse me, Doctor Pohl?"
"Ja. What is it?"
"You asked me to keep an eye on Commander Kim's brain activity, and I think you should come have a look at this. She doesn't appear to be responding to the treatment at all."
Dr. Pohl followed the younger doctor over to Commander Kim's bed and brought up her vitals and brain activity on the monitors.
"Hmm... You're right, it's not working.... Dr. Reed, how do you interpret these readings?" Pohl often asked her opinion, to help further her education. She was rarely wrong.
"The medication you prescribed should've put her into a deeper state of unconsciousness and suppressed dreaming, but see here? It looks like it was taking effect, but it's almost like her brain compensated for it and REM activity picked right back up. Why would it do that?"
"If I had to guess, to prolong the torture. Look here, at the activity in her pain center. She's asleep, but she's feeling every bit of that, and I don't know any other way to spare her that. At least the beta blockers are working. At the rate her adrenal gland is pumping epinephrine into her system, her heart would've exploded by now."
"Should we try increasing the dosage, see if we can overcome the implant?"
"No, I'd rather not. I'd rather not risk other side effects, and I have my doubts this thing can be defeated so easily...." Dr. Pohl paused for a moment, considering what had been done to his patient, and not liking it one bit. "What kind of sick, diseased mind dreams up a thing like this? What kind of person implants it in a human being?"
Dr. Reed looked to be at a loss for words, something Günter understood entirely. "Keep an eye on her, call me if anything changes. I need to go make some calls."
Dr. Pohl went back to his office and called up to the station's Operations Center and asked them to forward a list of flight plans for Octavarian ships in system. Once it appeared on his screen, he scrolled down the list, taking particular note of the medical facilities on each one. Most of them were no better than class 2, just a basic medical bay, and no full-time staff. Good for first aid, but not much else. The handful at class 3 or better were going the wrong way and were unlikely to be willing to divert. Then he noticed one entry that seemed too good to be true, a ship passing by on a direct flight to Canberra, with class 5 medical facilities. The best you'll find on most ships, and second only to a proper hospital, like the one on Canberra. Given the ship in question, though, he wasn't sure if they'd be able to help. Still, he called up to the Operations Center again and asked for a direct channel to the ship's captain. After a few minutes, he had gotten through.
"This is Commander Jankowski. What can the Leviathan do for you, Doctor?"
"I have a medical emergency here, Commander, a patient in need of immediate transfer to Canberra. I was hoping we could hitch a ride on your ship. I understand it's an imposition, but you've got the best medical facilities of any passing ship, and you're going the right way."
"You must understand, Doctor. I'm carrying VIP passengers, and can't divert without a very good reason. Still, tell me the situation, and I'll help if I can."
Günter proceeded to lay out the entire story for the Leviathan's CO, even finding a way to namedrop Taskmaster Kane (Günter wasn't above underhanded tricks when his patient's life was at stake). After he finished, Commander Jankowski leaned back in his chair, thinking it over.
"That's quite a story, Doctor... you don't have any alternate transport?"
"No, I'm afraid not. I've already reviewed all the passing traffic, which is how I knew you were passing through. They're either all unsuitable, or going the wrong way. I was going to request a medical shuttle from Canberra, but I'm not comfortable with the time I'd lose waiting on them."
"Alright, Doctor, you've made your case. We'll alter course and pick you up. If the Ministers don't like it, they can go soak their heads. Have your patient ready for transport within the hour."
"Thank you, Commander. You may have just saved a life."
