mikeazariah

He fixed the collar of his jacket and looked down to make sure everything was aligned. “How do I look?”

“Your fly is open.” Came her laconic reply.

His hands swiftly flew to find that he was being lied to, again. “Why do you always do that?”

“Why do you always fall for it? You are fine. Now remember, slow down the speech, let them absorb what you are saying. We KNOW half of them are bought and paid for by the godlings but you still have a chance to sway the AGM. If they understand what you are saying. So. Slow. Down.”

“I don’t pay you enough, do I?” He smiled and ran his hand through thinning hair.

“No, but I will give myself a raise later.” His secretary brushed an imaginary piece of lint off of his shoulders and looked down at him. He was a stumpy little man, almost as wide as he was tall. He had been raised on a heavy world and it showed. His reflexes were always quick but each action he made was done made with exaggerated care and delicacy. What he lacked in height he more than made up for in personal presence. His smile and the booming voice were well know to the planetary media and to the larger audience of the Union as a whole.

He nodded to the escort and they headed out of his offices into the tunnel leading to the senate chambers. Two guards ahead, two behind, footsteps echoed off of rough hewn rock. “Did I ever tell you . . . ”

“That you were part of the crew that dug this section of tunnel? Every damn time we walk here.” She smiled tolerantly. “But go ahead, don’t let me force you to break tradition.”

“I was thinking about the work crews back then. Small planetary level Union, I was fresh out of the trainees pool and anxious to show my stuff. Came bloody close to carving my own foot off with the lase. ”

“Couldn’t have that happen, I’m not sure we’d find you if you were any shorter.” One of the guards following quipped.

The short man pointed a finger back at the comedian. “Keep it up and I will go back to making public appearances on big open stages.”

The guard laughed. “Only you would threaten to die to ‘teach someone a lesson’ Ok, ok, no more short jokes, not even the one with the bartender and you playing a tiny piano.” The laughter filled the tunnel as they proceeded the short distance to the assembly hall.

The assembly hall of the Great Union of Miners and Engineers was a pastiche of old and new. Each seat was either filled by a person or a hologramic image of the representative. Since this was the AGM (annual general meeting) very few seats were not occupied, in one way or another. Glowing images accounted for about 2/3’s of the seating but many took long trips to be here face to face for the various political dealings that are best not trusted to communication nets. Here, strikes were decided. Here, the artificial limits on rarer ores were set. Here much of the background dealings that affected all of New Edens industrial base were made.

“Ladies, gentlemen, and of course, MINERS!” The chairman of the AGM brought the house to its feet as cheers filled the hall. “I could spend some time telling you President Roanokes history . . . but he has told it all to us a hundred times over.” Laughter as the delegates returned to their seats. “I could tell you how he has fought for safety for our people, better wages and brought us from the brink of dissolution to the present state of power . . . but you know all that as well. So I will tell you what you want to hear. I give you the one, the only, Roanoke!”

The President stepped up and with an abashed grin shortened the microphone down to his own level. “Damn it. Now I cannot tell any stories about myself without you lot shouting me down. Who let that guy become the chairman anyhow?”

“You did” The chairman shouted, laughing from the wings.

“Hrrmf, musta been drinking.” He grumbled into the mic. “A lot going on right now, and a lot more in the wings, folks, I ain’t one to sugarcoat and I am not going to spend time talking about the past . . . or the present . . . but about our future. Right now decisions are being made at the high levels of the Securities and Trade Commisions of all the races. If they have their way we will be looking back at NOW as a golden age. Right now things could be better, but I doubt that they will be if we sit back and let the future run right over our rights, our homes, and our childrens heritage. RIGHT NOW . . .” His arms flew up as he started to stomp across the stage. “Right now we are looking at a massive change in the way mines can be bought and sold and it will change our homes and lifestyles forever. RIGHT NOW those decisions are being made without us having any say what so ever in them.” he paused and his voice dropped to a stage whisper “right now they are trading and negotiating away our futures . . . and our childrens futures. The road they are starting down? There will be no turning back.”

The hall was unusually quiet. He had them, now it was time to turn them into something more than a passive audience. “We are miners. Whether we ride the plasma scoops, float in the clouds of a gas giant, or burrow ‘neath the rock, we all are miners. Up until now we have had to deal with corporations that followed the laws set by the S&T’s and we were able to deal fairly with them. Oh, I will admit there have been strikes and walkouts, but they were solid folk, like ourselves. But that is coming to an end. In a few months, unless we do something about it, ownership of planetary mining will shift over to ‘Capsuleers’ Those petty godlings . . . these so-called immortals who do not deign to walk the planets anymore, who hold life in such low regard that they will throw away the lives of a thousand crew members over the possession of a moon. Over the right to claim sovereignity over a system. Now we are about to see them allowed to claim planets for their own.”

Murmurs filled the room as this news (though it was not news to all involved) filtered in. Roanoke waited for the room to quiet before continuing, hearing his secretary in his earbud urging him to ‘keep it slow’. He took a deep breath and looked out at some of the faces he knew, both friends and enemies. Then he started again, softly but building power, trying to convince his people of the danger approaching. “Isk. That is what motivates these homeless nomads. They have no roots, no homes save whatever ship they happen to be in, at the time. They buy and sell their loyalties working for ‘agents’ who may send them to do any number of acts that would have a person outlawed in a blind instant if they were caught doing them on a planet. Piracy, violence, getting the job done at ANY cost. at. any. cost.” He looked out, meeting eyes. “Soon we will be that cost. They will see us as tools and a means to their goals. We are not people to that sort . . . just entries on a spread sheet.”

“Fear-mongering” Shouted a voice from the hall. “You just want us all afraid so we will stay your little sheep and re-elect you.”

A wolfish smile grew on Roanokes face “Oh I want you afraid. All of you should be very afraid.” The hall lit with a data sheet projected on the main screen. “Afraid that the wheels are already in motion. That delegates such as yourself are now accepting payments from the lobbyists of the godlings. Five million isk? Was that the price of your soul, Hannity? I remember respecting you once. Even when we disagreed I knew you had your peoples best interests in mind. But now . . . this. Simmons, you settled for 3 million? Should have spoken to Hannity. Do you want me to go on? My people have been researching and watching for months. Do you all REALLY want to know how deep the rot is?”

The spreadsheets flipped faster and faster then blinked out, in the sudden darkness Roanoake was lit by a single spot. The rising roars of outrage died out as he held up his hands. “I have done the math. IF all of the buyouts I have tracked and accounted for keep true to their new masters, this battle is over before it has begun. I am sorry . . . we may have already lost. If nothing else, the godlings can do the math. They understand that to hobble us now will save them so much more in the future.” His hands dropped to his side. “I am making a motion to the floor that we hold a ballot right now. It is a confidence ballot. If I lose, I will no longer be your president . . . and know that it is the will of the Union not to fight the future that looms before us. But if I win . . . I know some of you still retain enough of your souls to be able to fight back . . . and I will lead you in that fight to the end of my days, for I know that it is unlikely I will live through the chaos that is to come.”

His hands became fists as he looked up to the roof of the hall. “I will fight the tyrants who would rape our worlds, make us pawns in their great games between the stars. Let them do their conflicts up there, where there are no children on the battlefield. Let them make war in the quiet of space. But for the sake of us all, for the sake of generations yet to come . . . please, do not bring them down here, into the dust and toil of our lives. You know it is true, if we try to stand against them, or if they disagree on ownership we will see their wars come to our homes. Mercenaries on our streets enforcing the wills of whatever Lord and Master has laid claim to what was once ours. Vote. Vote from the respect you hold for the people you represent. Vote for the future of those people, for your very planets. . . or vote from your bank balances. Sell your people for the thirty pieces of silver. Vote . . . now”

Backstage his guard whispered to the secretary. “Now is when our real work is going to start.”

********************

This is an entry into Silver nights fiction contest

http://www.eveonline.com/ingameboard.asp?a=topic&threadID=1277113

m

Jiorj browsed through the active messages and then sighed, leaning back in his chair. Ouch had been at war for a few days now and the pressure was beginning to wear people down. He looked out at his own crew and realized he had not spoken to them since this war began. They had lost friends out there, not to the war but to where the war had taken them. He sighed and gathered his wits about him before heading out.

“Brothers, sisters, gather round if you will.” He waited while they moved closer. Many were faces from his village but there were faces missing and new ones in their places. He sighed. “As you know, we are at war. This has made space even more dangerous than it has been in the past. I do my best to keep us safe but ships . . . and lives have been lost.”

“Why are we fighting, sir?”

“I have made inquiries into that and the best I can tell is that the enemy seem to be what is commonly called griefers. This is not about money, territory, or honour. They hunt us because they think they can.”

“People are dying . . . sir the losses on our side in pure isk . . . ”

“Yes, I know. I am managing to keep us in the positive right now and am trying to get better at flying the frigates we take out. Our leaders are looking into ways to help us and they think they have come upon a solution. We will be moving our base of operations, soon. The griefers only go where they feel sure of having the advantage. They camp outside of stations waiting for someone to exit but it they are thenselves threatened they hide within the station until the danger goes away. So we are going to make the danger more omnipresent. We are moving into lowsec.”

Gasps and mutters filled the hanger as this news was absorbed.

“If this was a true war then the enemy would follow us. But if this is all about easy kills then these people will become hunted by the stronger inhabitants of our new base area. By going where it is dangerous we will, in effect, even out the playing field.”

“But not into nullsec, right? I have heard that is getting worse lately. The Providence region . . . ”

“THAT is ENOUGH of that.” Jiorj paused and let the echoes in the hanger dissipate. “Ahem. Do you know what the deadliest weapon in a war is? I will give you a clue, it cannot be mounted on a ship. Information. What we know and do not know is the difference between living and dying. What we say and think influences our knowledge. If we think all is lost then it is. If we worry about tomorrow and dread suiting up for the next flight we might as well retire now.”

Jiorj pointed up to the higher reaches of the hanger. “There are podpilots on the channels bemoaning how foolish this war is and how they plan on ’sitting this one out in Jita’.” Jiorj spat on the deck. “THIS for anyone who would think to leave his comrades behind and ’sit out’ a war. THIS for someone who would pollute the comms with defeatist talk. We are here to do a job and we will not ’sit it out’ nor will we leave OUCH while the war still runs. Cowards are as common as cockroaches and when light from the fires of war shine you see them scuttling away in the same fashion. Our people did not raise us to run home when the going got tough.”

He stopped and looked about at the assembled crew. “As for Providence. I am sure you have been following the news as much as I have. It seems this is the season for leaders to be suicidal and to take many people with them. Goonswarm is no more. CVA struck a cowardly blow in their ‘holy cause’ and failed. They were then rapped over the nose sharply by their neighbors. I do not know if you have read the most recent offer of peace and its refusal but for me, it beggars my imagination. How they could refuse the return of thier station and an offer of peace after it has been clearly proven that the alternative will be their destruction . . . ” Jiorj shook his head. “Madness.”

“I could never have predicted what those people would do, but I know what I am going to do . . . what WE are going to do if you are still with me. I have ships being made as we speak, some we will fly, others will support our losses. Many of them will be lost in this war, and some lives will go with them. I never fly to die but I hav eyet to shirk my duties. Black Claw has suggested that I might lead a Roam.”

“You sir? But . . . ”

“Yeah, my reaction was about the same. But I have been watching and learning from the other fleet commanders and I hope I have learned from both the successes and the losses. To fail to have done so would be spitting on the sacrifices and the losses we bore for those lessons. We will be going into nullsec, looking for targets. The trick will always be to tell the targets from the bait. We have lost ships to mistakes in that identification procedure. I will be taking us out to the edge of Providence if we can get that far and I expect the best we can get from all of you. I am not going to ‘fly till we die’ because I owe you better than that.”

Jiorj looked out at the worried faces and continued. “Now I expect that the enemy will be haunting the hisec passages looking for us to be making supply runs. One of our jobs will be to supply our fellow pilots.”

“At a profit?”

“Have I done otherwise? We will not be wartime profiteers but Black does not mind if I make a percentage. I have done my research, my homework and I know what is being used and will be moving those job lots to the top of the factory queue.” His comm chimed and he frowned, looking down at it. “There’s the, pack up people we are on the MOVE.”

“Where sir?”

Another voice from the crowd scornfully answered. “Ya ain’t heard of operational security? We will find out when we gets there.”

Jiorj smiled. “Actually we have a choice of destinations and Black is not too worried about spies anymore. OUCH is not hiding and is accepting new students again. We can go to losec or nullsec.” His smiles turned wolfish. “Guess where we are headed.”

A quiet voice from the back said, “We are so dead.”

**************

Lessons:

One nay sayer in a corp can kill more pilots than a battleship station-camping your home base
Realistic is nice, but most pessimists claim they are ‘just being realistic’
“And thereore those skilled in war avoid the enemy when his spirit is keen and attack him when it is sluggish and his soldiers homesick. This is control of the moral factor” Sun Tsu

Mike sighed as the autopilot brought him into the next system. As long as he stayed clear of *Attention, you have been declared an enemy of . . . *

“Dammit!” He disabled the autopilot and brought the ship under manual control. Several Amarr guard ships were beginning to target him and he was fairly sure it was not for a customs inspection. A practiced glance at the nav overview brought the next gate up and he targeted and initiated the jump. Watching the guard ships dwindle in the distance he chuckled then blinked and swore softly. “What the hell was that?” He brought up the black box log and reran the last minute . . . .There! . . .

It took six more jumps back and forth between the two gates with the guard trying to get a faster fix on the ship they so wanted in pieces. Finally he managed to stop, using a bookmark, right next to the anomaly and scoop them into the hold, a quick scan around showed that there was nothing else to see so he warped once more to the gate and moved on back into Khanid territory. When he reached dock he went into the hold to see his find first hand.

Two bodies . . . entwined in a way that made you think more of a bedroom and less of the cold space far from any planet. He looked Amarr but her tribal tattoos could only mean she was full blooded Minnie. “Curiouser and curiouser.” Mike whispered to himself. There were few clothes and no ID but he scanned the faces and hands and went into the station to see if he could solve this little mystery.

****

Five jumps away she woke in the station once again. She gasped for air, which she had been screaming for in triumph when she had last died.

“Get him?”

“Got him, and he was so nice to show a young thing like myself where ‘clones are made’.” Her laugh held no humor that is found this side of a morgue.

“And his clone?”

“Sadly I believe there may be some problems with it. Some sort of bacteria got into the vats . . . again. It is a wonder they don’t keep their facilities cleaner.”

The other voice tsked and reached in to help her off of the table. A robe was handed to her and she tied it absently as she looked about the room, finally focusing on the man beside her. “Next?”

“So soon? I thought you might want a break . . . ”

“Next?” Her voice was flatter and completely empty of any emotion.

He sighed and handed her a file. “This one likes strippers . . . and he likes to ’slum it’ looking for a little dark meat.”

******

Mikes inquiry went through the usual channels and raised many flags in various systems. Counter inquiries were started, mainly focusing on who Mike Azariah was and why he was asking questions. Not knowing the wasps nest he had kicked he continued . . . curiosity taking him deeper. A credit check showed the victim had last spent coin only two systems over. Mike double checked the map and nodded . . . “Good, not in Amarr, just close.” He paused for a moment and then loaded the destination into his comm and set off back to the ship. “A small side trip won’t hurt.”

*******

She had a bit of work done, body mods were expected among strippers. It took a few days for the process to complete and then she checked the local clubs calender.

“Gonna get a job this time?”

“No.” She said, not looking up. “His file says he is not prone to professionals. I am going to go to amateur night.”

The man snorted but didn’t ask any other questions.

“Three days . . . your end better be ready.” She continued.

He managed to bite back his first thought which was ‘I might say the same to you’ This restraint was the main reason why he was still alive, unlike her last 4 handlers. Instead he just nodded and went back to the database to see what other information he could find. “Uh oh.”

“I do not like Uh oh, what is the problem.?”

“Someone a few systems over is making inquiries about the last target.”

“So?”

“Private inquiries . . . and he was correlating your biosignature with the victims.”

“What?”

“I don’t know how he connected you two but the request is already raising some attention. It may be time to terminate the . . . ” He saw the look on her face and trailed off, not finishing the sentence.

“He has nothing so far but his questions could be troublesome. Put a watch on this . . .Azariah. Talk to our contacts. I want to know who he is, what he is, and why he is digging in our business. Evaluate him as a target. Please tell me he is . . . ”

“Pure blood Gallente.” He tapped the comm and frowned. “Banned in Amarr space. Has a reputation for running specific missions against slaving operations. Brought in quite a few folks out of camps in the past year. Currently working in Khanid territory, not far from here. Damn, if you decide he is a target he keeps two clones in very separate regions. Seems to use it to commute from here to his corps industrial center. I’ll have more in a few hours.”

“Everything you can find.”

**********

Mike found his way to the main concourse of the station and looked out over the bustling market. Minmatar stations always had a distinctive feel to them. Ad hoc growth combined with distinctive tribal colors and customs made it feel more eclectic than the stodgy Amarr or the corporate Caldari. Of course nothing could compare to a stroll down a Gallente boulevard, stopping for a cafe au lait . . . . “wow” Mikes eyes were drawn to her almost involuntarily. And he was not the only one. Hips swayed making the tribal sarong swish side to side always promising to show more leg but never quite delivering. The sarong deserved a medal for managing to keep the woman contained and decent given her obvious assets. The concourse almost went silent as every male and more than a few females watched this lioness stalk her own private jungle. It was almost and afterthought that Mike looked at her face and blanched, he swept up his comm and triggered the camera just as she was almost out of sight. Going back to his ship he compared the image to the body in stasis in his hold. The body was a bit different . . . but the face was the same. It was her.

Now what?

**********

“Snark.”

“Excuse me?”

‘It is what Azariah calls his ship. It is in dock right now, here.”

“Here as in this station here?”

“Yes”

“I want a full briefing on this man in one hour. I want all the options considered for what we can do about him.”

“All options?”

“One hour.”

*********

Mike scrolled thorugh the old news files of the station trying to see if he could find a clue as to the other victim and his connection with Her. Even in his mind he capitalized references to Her. While Dierdre was larger than life through force of her interpersonal skills Mike got the impression that this lady would be one to command a crowd, not a single listener. He scrolled backwards through the days till a side article caught his eye, the image was of the male victim from a time when he was more healthy.

“Local Med Bank Infection.- the local clone vats report a virulaent bacteria somehow infected several clones, rendering them irretrievable. One life has been permanently lost as the vat held the clone of a man who died before the infection was discovered.”

“Man, sucks to be him.” Mike read on . . .

“The victim was reported to have been a high ranking Amarr stockholder of the Manpower corporation. Manpower has often been accused of being the corporate front for a slavery ring that spans several regions but the accusations have never been substantiated . . . “

“Huh. I’d swear I have popped a few of their transports, sometime in the past.” Mike toggled off the reader and sat back. “So what in hells name was he doing with her in the middle of nowhere? A business deal gone very bad? No, that wouldn’t explain what they were (and weren’t) wearing. They look like they were spaced, not podded. But why would they be . . . ahem. . . so involved?” He tapped his comm on his knee and looked up at the ceiling of the Snark cockpit. “Nope, no answers written here . . . time to go see if there are any more on the concourse.”

**********

“So to summarize. Our target is in the station, amateur night is tonight, and he has a business meeting for the day after tomorrow back in Amarr space. So we take the shot tonight or let this target pass.”

“Right.”

“Azariah is also in station and your evaluation is he cannot be bought on our budget. His spread of clones makes a targeted strike impossible. He is running for the CSM but nobody has ever heard of him. He hasn’t the specialty that most poddies have and seems to just do a bit of everything up to and including investigating us. Have I got that right?”

“Right.”

“Well dammit I do NOT plan on letting the target pass but what the hell am I going to do about Azariah?”

“The best bet is to take the target as planned, it is a big station. I mean what are the odds he will wind up in the bar where you are ‘working’ tonight?”

Her cold eyes looked off into the distance. “I won’t let the target pass. This evening I want you on close support. We will chance your ‘odds’ but I want you there, just in case.”

“But but I am not a field . . . .”

“You will be there or they will find fewer pieces of you than they did the last handler who interfered with my orders.”

He shuddered thinking of the image he had seen of the three very small bags.

********

Walking the concourse had proved fruitless and all Mike could think of now was a cool drink and then some quality time relaxing and taking in some local sights that did not involve all this hoofing about. Hoots and howls came out of a doorway up ahead and the sign indicated it was ‘happy hour’. “Hope their clock is slow.” Mike grinned and swung into the bar. He siganlled the waiter for a PGB and looked around the bar. “Ah, happy for more than one reason.” The pole in the center of the room could either be for a fire suppression crew to enter the room or . . .

“Yes men it is that time again! Sit back and enjoy the next five acts of Amateur Night! Put your hands together for a little hangerbay worker who knows how to make your loading crane go up . . .Chelsie!” Music filled the room as the first girl stepped out onto the stage and started to bump and grind to the music.

*******

“Chains! What are the odds, indeed. Look at him, perfectly placed to cover both exits and have a clear view of the target.” She glared out from the backstage at Mike sitting sipping his drink. “He doesn’t fool me . . . but what are we going to do? Killing him here would ruin everything.”

“There is one option that wasn’t mentioned.” Her handler said, feeling cold just standing next to her.

“I said all options were to be presented then. What did YOU leave out?”

“Recruitment.”

“I thought you said he couldn’t be bought off with our budget.”

“He makes more in a mission than our monthly budget. But I didn’t mean buy him off, I meant ask him to join us, or at least turn a blind eye.”

“Honesty? Your final option is to tell the truth?”

“It is all I have . . . it is all we have.”

“And the truth shall . . . ” She straightened her shoulders in a most wonderful way and stepped out of the shadows to go talk to the pilot. Sadly, Cherie on stage lost most of the attention of the room as the fully clothed woman crossed it exuding 10x more sex appeal than the near naked neophyte.

*******

Mikes eyes widened for several reasons. Her presence, the coincidence of her being in this bar, “Of all the gin joints in all the towns in all the world, she walks into mine.” he said just loud enough for her to hear.

“I was thinking the same thing. May I sit?”

Mike smiled and gestured to the empty seat. “It would be rude of me to say no to such a lovely lady. I believe my next move is to offer to buy you a drink?”

“No, I will be dancing in a few minutes, I like to keep my balance. What I am here to speak with you about is what happens after that dance.” She leaned closer. “Before you arrived here the plan was I would get friendly with the gentleman sitting behind me, go away with him and he would suffer a very permanent accident.”

Mike sipped his drink. “And something untoward would happen to his clone . . . coincidences are such a pain to plan.”

“Very much so. Now I am faced with your being here and I am asking . . . can you . . . no, will you . . . stay out of it?”

Mike looked over her shoulder and then back into her eyes. He compared her beauty to the personal presence of Dierdre. Dierdre won, hands down. “I assume he is connected with active slavery?”

If anything, more ice formed in his drink from just being within range of her eyes. “That chainer specializes in mind control drugs.”

“I’ve seen that sort of thing before. They went after some people in a station near my base. But things are easier for me. I don’t have to pretend there are coincidences.”

Her eyes widened. “You will not interfere?”

His went hard for a moment. “One thing . . . how did your bodies wind up like that way out in open space with no ship about. That has been driving me crazy.”

“I tell them I like an element of danger and take them into the airlock of a shuttle. Once we are there . . . and he is ‘occupied’ I hit the emergency decompression.” She sighed. “I come back, he doesn’t.”

Mike leaned back and laughed. “Leave me a name and if you dance well I will contract you a fresh made shuttle for free.”

“For free dom”

******

Contract between Mike Azariah and Free Dom
10 Minmatar shuttles. Delivery to local hanger
Cost:0 + services rendered

*******

“Honesty. Never thought that would work.”

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

No lessons, this was meant as an entry into the Eve fan Fiction

A great idea that has got a fair bit of support already.

mike