Drafted Index

“You need to get your head around this” Aura, your ship’s AI says to you. “Your brain already knows this stuff, how come you have difficulties with it?” “Well, perhaps you guys installed the wrong software and I’m only capable of flying titans” you reply. “Software version check………OK. Hardware check……OK. Memory imprints check……OK. No,” Aura replies, “it is definitely you that is causing your problems. Just sit back and relax a bit, no need to be so tensed. Ease into the controls.” “You piece of inconsiderate hardware, what do you think I’m trying to do?” you reply. Then the Sergeant’s voice bursts into your pod. “Shut your yap, just do what she says. She’s programmed to train rats like you, now start flying in a straight line, or so help me, I’ll personally destroy your ship and you with it.”

Oh brother, just what you need. A bit of ‘friendly’ advice, just when you are trying to take control of this piece of junk. Of course, what are you thinking? That bit of extra pressure of your impending oblivion is really helping you to master these controls. Wait, wait, wait. Remember your dad, you think to yourself. He told you about this, this is the bit of extra pressure to try to make you fail. Remember that. Just don’t fail!

With a thought the ship suddenly starts to fly a decent straight line. The station is lost from your view as you hurtle away from it at over 400 meters per second. You feel like when cogs of an old machine are clicking into place. This way to go left……”YES” and now back again……”I did it!” you cry out. “So it seems”, Aura replies in a smooth silken tone. “Now let’s try to use your camera and look at what you are flying.” You think of the camera, you know it’s there because you are looking at yourself from behind your eyes, so to speak. Looking at the ship, willing the view to change so that you can see your ship hurtling towards you. Slowly the view begins to change, and as the front of your ship is gliding into view you see the station in the background. Against the light reflected from a nearby planet, you see your comrades’ attempts at gaining a similar control of their ship. Several are still swaying around like they had too much to drink. In the far distance you notice the other teams as they go through their training. Most of them are moving just like your team does, but there is one group that is executing manoeuvres. Seemingly effortless they practice their formation flying, a diamond shape, all in a row, one ahead, you start naming the shapes they are flying in. As you pan your camera view from that ‘show-offs’ you try to focus on the station itself. You see a tiny speck just in front of the hangar. You ask Aura if you can zoom in, she replies “Of course, just try”. You try with all your thoughts to look at the speck in more detail. Suddenly you feel like rushing towards the station as the camera’s zoom function finally works. The speck is a ship, an Atron just like yours. Grey hull, strange markings on the side, still hovering at the entrance of the hangar. As you look at the ship you hear the Sergeant’s shout in local, the local communication feed in which you and your Green Team comrades are connected. “Farenne, get moving you bastard. Don’t sit there like a sitting duck, MOVE!”

Suddenly the ship starts to shudder into movement. It accelerates to 400 meters per second, as fast as the Atron will go. Then it banks to the right, in a narrow turn it heads back to the station. Local bursts into live. “No, not that way you idiot!” the Sergeant shouts. But it’s too late as it looks like the ship will splat against the hull of the station. Its heavy armour will surely bounce back the little frigate and render it into a wreck. Militia station one, brand new capsuleers of the Green Team 0. Just as you try to close you eyes to shield them from the explosion, the ship veers to the left, narrowly missing the station, as you see the ship move toward you and your comrades. “What just happened?” you ask aloud. Aura replies: “His ships’ AI interfered. This will count as strike one for him.” You: “Why?” Aura: “He was deliberately steering towards the station. Logic states that he was trying to commit suicide. This is not tolerated, at least not like this.” “What do you mean?” you ask cautiously. “Just like I said, if you want to commit suicide, you have to die in a mission without any clones available.” Aura continues. “When you have repaid your debt to the empire, you will be able to live forever as capsuleers, perhaps even getting your own ships and modules, the beginning of a new legit enterprise.” “Wait a second, how do you know what we have to repay. I thought we were merely sentenced to do this job until we die, just like going to prison. What are you talking about?”

Aura: “It is very logical. You have committed crimes against people, companies and the empire. The total cost of those actions have been calculated, the loss of income, the deaths or crippled people and the costs of the empire trying to rectify the damage you caused. At the moment you owe the Gallente Empire 34.399.100.110,47 ISK, including your current ship, training, skillbooks and implants.” “34 billion ISK, you gotta be kidding. I never got that from anyone, it should maybe be a couple of million ISK, not billions.” you respond questioningly. “The calculations are correct. Example. You swindled the life savings of a shopkeeper from Aimoguier. He needed to work longer and also make a request for state benefits. Example. The pyramid scheme of Alenchene cost 135 families their live savings, generating a lot of benefit requests and a few deaths due to poor nutrition and health care as the money they could have spent was in your pockets. Example. Your last exploit, just before being apprehended. You ruined the life of the merchant on Corufeu. You swindled him out of 300.000 ISK, money he needed, to pay for his daughter’s hospitable bill. He went bankrupt as he lend money against his business. It wasn’t nearly enough, they tried the treatment he could afford but that was unsuccessful. The daughter died, he went bankrupt. Both him and his wife were then killed during a robbery in the streets they were turned out on. That offence alone is worth 117 million ISK.” “Are you saying then that I’m responsible for the death of thousands of people?” you ask with a bone grinding fear. “No, not thousands.” Aura replies. But before the relief of that answer settles in, she continues with “You are responsible for the combined death of 927,1 persons in the Gallente Federation.” “And how am I supposed to repay that?” you shout at the AI, “I can’t bring them back to life, I don’t have that kind of money and I will probably not survive the stuff the militia wants me to do!” “That is a logical reply. Perhaps you will never be able to fully repay this debt, but you will have to try.” Aura states. “It’s either that or you will be terminated, as you have been told that. However, you will reap rewards of successful missions. If you do your new job well, the FDU might even pay for some of your debt.”

As you hear those words and let the meaning of them sink in, the joyful feeling of flight you had, the feeling of being in control of the ship and getting it to do what you want subsides and leaves a bitter aftertaste in your mouth. As you go through the motions of accelerating and decelerating, of banking left and right, controlling the ship’s camera, your minds eye is wandering. You recall that merchant of Corufeu. That was a successful swindle if there was any. Three hundred thousand ISK that was what you took from him. When you think about it, you see him in front of you. The desperation in his eyes, the small telltales that he was taking risks and convinced himself those risks were worth to be taken. The telltales of a successful mark, to be conned by an ‘artist’ just like you. He really needed that profit on his investment, he didn’t say why, but now you know. Now you can see what you have done to him. To all three of them. “What was her name” you ask Aura with a shiver in your voice. “What was his wife and his daughters’ name?”

Aura hesitates for a moment, checking your vitals against her parameters, as if not sure she should be relaying this information to, she finally replies. “He was called Claude St. Devier, the mother was called Josephine and the daughters’ name was Frederique.” Aura shows you some of their images, the one of Frederique holding a doll, at the entrance of the hospital, burns itself on your retina.

“Frederique.”

Then the local communication gives you a command. “Get back to the station, first training is over.” the Sergeant says. Dazed you turn your Atron and head back to the station. As you enter the hangar there are numerous station crews awaiting your return. After you emerge from the pod and are heading for the shower, you look at the faces of your comrades. Ah, you muse, they have their own Frederique’s as well. They must have heard what they have cost others. Perhaps that’s even why Farenne tried to kill himself.

Looking at the food in the mess hall, you realise that you don’t have an appetite and neither do your comrades. You head out to your bunks and try to sleep. Tomorrow will be full of training the Sergeant said. Best get some shuteye, ‘cause you’ll need it. As you lay in your bed you try to get some sleep, but the haunting image of Frederique is still there, not letting you go, silently accusing you of all of her doom.