A cool breeze fell on Obsidian’s face. Feeling the smooth sheets on her skin she awoke. Through half lidded eyes she scanned the room. In the soft glow of the lighted panels she could tell she was in a station bunk. Sighing she started to roll over but was stopped by a twinge in her shoulder. Slowly the events that lead to her injury filled her mind. “okay” she thought, “I was in my ship fighting someone called Pancakes and now I’m in a bunk in a station. Where is everyone else?”

For the past month life had been fractured. She went through periods of light and dark, fire and ice. Obsidian felt a tugging to become something she never thought she could be. She was a guide, a member of an established trade guild and once had eagerly lead successful mining expeditions. Yet she knew that she hadn’t done any serious mining in months and it had been at least twice as long as that since she lead an expedition. She had earned enough that the numbers in the bank readout were meaningless to her. What was the point of earning more credits? There had to be better goals than a series of blips on a screen. Recently she was agitated and would possess urges to take on any and all comers. There had been a noticeable drop in her bank account because she was spending a lot on ship upgrades, repairs and ammo reloads. She saw why the combat pilots frequently groused about how little combat missions paid compared to trade missions and wondered how much longer she could go before she had to start trading again to support this new habit.

The surge of power in her veins was enticing and she longed to recapture that feeling. Combat was glorious. It was an art form. The voice had promised her all of this and it had not disappointed. She remembered how she felt when she was informed that she had completed her kill. Something had gripped her and it pulled her into a fog where she had to fight her way out. At times Obsidian wasn’t sure she was really in control of her actions. Once she found a willing opponent she’d go back time and time again no matter how badly her ship had been damaged, or how more skilled the opponent.

Obsidian’s brow wrinkled as she tried to focus on how she ended up with the throbbing shoulder.. She had stopped in a station to relax after a long flight. Obsidian was looking forward to indulging in waffles, topped with winterberries and whipped creams. The bar was crowed but she was able to find a spot at the rail. Without looking at the menu she motioned to the waitress and gave her order. A pilot slid in next to her “no, she meant pancakes”. Obsidian glanced at the man sitting next to her and repeated her waffle request to the waitress. She wasn’t comfortable with how he was staring at her, his eyes fixed on the various ribbons pinned to her jacket. She gave him a sugary smile, “are you interested in my mining expeditions?”

“Waffles are lies, not good enough for you. You think you are getting good food but all you are getting are lies.”

“I appreciate the concern but I think I’m old enough to order my own food.”

“Obviously not because you have the same poor taste in professionalism as you do food. I don’t believe you have ANY right to make a single decision! Barkeep bring her a plate of pancakes and another xith sapper for me!” the man shouted.

Obsidian lost her appetite and pushed away from the bar. She was in the hanger checking her ship for take off when she heard the sounds of approaching boots. That annoying man from the bar was coming here carrying a wrapped package. “I had them wrap up some pancakes to go for you” he called out.

“No, thanks, I really do need to get back to work.” Obsidian replied as she hastily climbed into the cockpit.

“How ungrateful! Here I was going to compliment your beauty and you are going off to do that disgusting mining work.” He tossed the food at the closing hatch and walked away.

Obsidian hadn’t thought about the incident until she was preparing for the wormhole jump into Odia. “Ooooooobs” the voice called. She felt a tugging and looked around for any ships in the area. Warping in about 1500m to the port side was a hostile ship. She locked her scanners on the ship. The ID came up Pancakes. Ugh, after the events at the station the last thing she wanted to think about was a pancake. This wasn’t the mystery ship that was lurking out of reach; it was just an annoyance. A cruel grin came to her lips. She could have some fun with this. The ship was registering as hostile so no one could blame her if she got into a fight with its pilot. Flicking on the sound system Obsidian angled the ship to take a strafing run at Pancakes.

The were flashes of light and from the smell of burnt plastic she knew she had been hit multiple times. She fought with the controls to keep the nose of the ship pointed in the right direction. Beads of sweat rolled down her face and neck. She was ready to release a volley of rockets when her ship was slammed with blast damage. “I’m such an idiot! Damaging my own ship with my own rockets!” She didn’t get to do much more before she felt the fiery pain in her shoulder. A piece of metal had pieced the skin and pinned her to her seat. Frantically she tried to pull out the jagged metal but with the blood she could not get a solid grip. She cursed and tried to think about the state of her ship. With minimal hull reserves she had to get to a station and dock before there was nothing left. The world started getting blurry and Obsidian felt the blackness surround her.

Obsidian did not know how long she was out before her guild members found her drifting in space but her was certain they were the ones who had brought her to this place.

She felt her stomach growl and it pushed her to want to get up. Groggily she moved to place her feet on the cool metal floor when it dawned on her that she was naked. What was going on? “Where are my clothes?” she growled audibly.

Sitting in the common room Waldoze grinned at Ecka as he heard the growling through the closed door. “I think our little runner has awoken.” he winked at Ecka. “Who’s going to go talk to her” Ecka asked the assembled guild members.

Maximum raised his hand “I think the council members should draw straws”

“I’d need a blast suit before I’m go with in 10 meters of her!” Zathras called out.

Ecka sighed. “Oh come on boys, it can’t be that bad…”

“So why don’t you volunteer?” Waldoze chirped.

John Eldritch raised an eyebrow “at least there’s a locked bulkhead between us and her wrath”

The growling became more distinct and was accompanied by slams from cabinets and drawers. There was a series of thuds and a high-pitched tinkle of breaking glass. Ecka looked around and shrugged “I think she’s gonna have to run out of steam soon”

“Where the hell ARE MY CLOTHES?!?!” the door slid open to reveal a woman standing in the doorway, wild haired and wrapped in a bed sheet. All heads in the room snapped to take in the image: Waldoze fell off his chair, Zathras’ mouth hung open, John turned bright red and Maximum stopped in mid swallow, choking loudly. “I thought the door was supposed to be locked!” stammered Waldoze.

Obsidian stiffened and started to move into the room unaware of how she looked and how little she was wearing. Only Ecka seemed unfazed by the barely dressed woman. He stood up and walked towards her. Obsidian’s eyes locked on the movement and fogged up with rage. She stormed over to intercept the movement “WHERE THE BLOODY HELL DID ALL MY CLOTHES GO?” Without even blinking Ecka picked up the blaring woman and took her back into her bunk shutting the door behind him. He plopped a stunned Obsidian on the bunk and turned to activate the door lock. With all the rage inside of her she lunged for Ecka. He blocked her first blow but Obsidian was able to land a second in his gut. With a loud “oomph” Ecka grabbed his stomach. He crossed his arms and sat on the edge of the bunk. His eyes followed the girl as she paced back and forth in the room.

Ecka cleared his throat and began. “We were concerned that you’d try to leave before you had fully healed. Figured you weren’t crazy enough to go piloting in your birthday suit.”

Pulling himself up to look as in command as possible he continued “Listen, I may be an old miner but I am the commander of this guild so you will pay attention. You have got to get a grip on this “blood lust” It is endangering the name of the guild. I have forgiven you for singeing my hairy bits with that capship battle but not everyone is going to be so inclined. You attacked Kalb the other day and it took a fair amount of negotiations to avoid a total breakdown in guild alliances. This is a trade guild, our treaties and alliances; our word is one of our most valuable commodities. We cannot condone our council members going rocket happy on anyone who gets near her.”

Obsidian looked at the old miner and cocked her head. “I don’t know what’s going on but I know that I’m not going to be the same again. I hear this voice. It keeps calling me to embrace the fire, to seek the taste of blood. I have never felt so alive before. I don’t want to hurt anyone but I want to find the source of the voice.”

With his years of wisdom he nodded at the young pilot. “I remember when I joined the battle dance. Combat is exciting and I don’t want to stop you from doing it. What I do expect is that you show a bit of wisdom in who you pick to fight.”

“Commander, I’m not sure I can” she whispered.

/me chuckles and ducks quickly.

Way to go Obs, keep those blasters hot.

(just drop the taur though and hop in a crotch rocket)

Great! But unfortunately now I'm gonna have to bug you for more EVERY time you log on, as apparently your last one wasn't a one shot

[edit] How come Pancakes gets a nice giant cameo and all I've had is a one-liner where you give away my alt!?

There's a Viper-Pirate war? Why was I never informed of this?

The ancient miner nosed the big 'moth between the bone roids to one he knew on sight and fired up the twin HD lasers. He had seen pilots addicted to the fire of space before , and he knew the only thing to do was to help them through it , to channel their aggression and keep them alive between fights.

" och weel, a wee wander round grey for a blether wi' folk might smooth things a bit "

The helio dust made Ecka's nose itch with an impending sneeze , and he reached into his pocket for a hankerchief .

" aaachoooo"

The truth dawned on the old miner . Not only would he have to cover Obsidians combat urges , but he would also have to pull guild strings to ensure that the red frilly undergarment on which he had just blown his nose was returned to her laundry basket not his own ................

The pain in her shoulder had faded to a dull ache and had been replaced by an uneasy feeling of idleness. Obsidian slipped on an old flannel shirt and a pair of pants but didn’t bother with socks or shoes. The effort was still too much and she didn’t want to ask for help right now. Her feet padded softly on the metal floor as she headed to the galley. John Eldritch was cooking breakfast at the stove, he turned to look at who had entered the room and quickly looked away. With down cast eyes he chocked out “I see…I see you’re awake and moving. Can I get you something to eat?”

“I’d love a cup of tea if we have any.”

John nodded and seemed relived to have a reason to keep his attention elsewhere. Obsidian sat down on the far right side of the table and picked up a spoon. Twirling the spoon in her fingers she asked where the other TGFT where. John shrugged and mumbled something about how they should be waking up soon.

Finally Obsidian could not take it any longer. She got up and crossed over to the stove to stand next to John. “John, would you please look at me? What’s wrong?” He flushed and started to say something but no sounds came out. Instead the blush deepened and spread to other parts of his body.

“John? Are you okay?” Are you embarrassed about the other day?” she asked. His head snapped around to look at her “um, ah, maybe” Obsidian smiled softly, touched his hand and leaned in to whisper into his ear.

“If it’d make you feel better, so we'd be even, you can show me yours”

John dropped the tea tin and hastily limped out of the galley. Obsidian clucked softly and started humming to herself as she finished making the tea.

Waldoze came in to find Obsidian laughing to herself as she sat at the table. Sliding in secure beside her he inquired what was so funny. She repeated the scene with John and was giggling again when Waldoze leaned in and whispered, “does that offer apply to me as well?”

It was Obsidian’s turn to blush.

<ooc>
Nice read Obsidian. Please keep it up.
</ooc>

Eldritch slouched on his bunk in the dark, brooding over the events of the morning with a half-empty glass clutched tightly in his hand. A dripping tap echoed throughout the small, cluttered chamber like a metronome, adding a rhythm to his thoughts.

Ecka had suggested he share a room with Waldoze, probably hoping that some of the young man’s effervescence would rub off on the troubled soul. Against his better judgement he’d accepted the arrangement; after all, he respected “the boss”.
However, it had done little to lift Eldritch’s spirits despite the rookie’s almost incessant efforts to drag him around on his epic all-night sessions; fast becoming infamous in the TPG mess halls. He’d tagged along a few times at first, but found conversation to be awkward. A solitary life dedicated to trading coolant along the deserted space lanes in the less fashionable corners of the universe didn’t tend itself to sparkling repartee. He had tales to tell, but those mere children didn’t have the right to know what he had experienced on the outer reaches of existence, nor the ability to comprehend.
These sessions had invariably ended in the same fashion; drinking himself into a stupor to escape the futility of it all. Recently he’d started using a series of weak excuses to avoid such social interaction.

The old war wound had justified missing out on that evening’s revelry; a good excuse for a night alone with a bottle and his thoughts. Damn that Obsidian - her wanton disregard for correct attire had stirred something within him, maybe something that had been better left unstirred. Why was he wasting his life away in such an empty existence when there were such things to be experienced?

He snorted with derision as his musings were temporarily interrupted by faint sounds of music came from an adjoining room. The banality of the “latest pop sensation” issuing from the studios at the Aroan Executive infuriated him. He had developed more meaningful, and some would say, darker tastes during his time in the far retches of the universe. Few accepted these tastes, even fewer understood them. He’d quickly learnt to keep them hidden to avoid being shunned.

With every passing drip of the tap, he found his rage blossoming. Anger, the simpliest of the emotions had long been his companion, bubbling under a thin veneer of indifference. Why? Why should he be made to feel like an outcast? He more than met his quota every month. Just because he preferred to dress in darker shades, and didn’t feel the need to burble pleasantries every damn minute, it didn’t make him any less of a trader or a person. Why wouldn’t they accept him for what he was – after all, he wasn’t a monster, was he?

The glass shattered in his hand, cutting deep. In his alcohol-fuelled daze he barely noticed the pain as the Cantian Vodka blended with his blood, but was drawn to the crimson rivulets snaking down his arm - such a striking contrast against his pale skin. A familiar sound played in his ears though from an uncommon source - blood dripping onto the bare metal floor. Dripping like the tap...

A sudden moment of clarity was his: time was dripping away from him like his precious life blood. Time that could be used in the pursuit of sensation, or experience; time to experiment with life… or with death.

Yes, death – the great leveller. They would be sorry for underestimating him. They would all be very, very sorry…

It's always the quiet ones...

Nothing in the universe stays untouched. The planets rotate, the stars pulse, even "empty" sectors go through periods of ion storms. All things in life must change and adapt. To fear the unknown is human, to resist it is futile. Over the past years Obsidian had walked a path that made her into the person who stood looking at her in the mirror. She had been a loner, she made acquaintances, rivals, admirers and foes, she had joined the ranks of council members and had made a home in TGFT. She had developed the skills to morph from quiet mouse to valiant defender to flirtatious woman. While it appeared that she was in control, she knew she was losing her grasp on what she had acquired.

“Ooooobs” it calls, the voice not only calms her, but also excites her. She loved the sound of it; its deep timber, the deadly malice that it contains, she could listen to it forever. It makes her feel safe, something she hasn’t felt in a long time. She knows its crazy, but she swears to all that is holy; “if I get out of this alive I will meet this voice. And when we cross paths, it will meet a woman that is its equal.”

She had ended up in the bar on that beaten up mining station to remember. With a raise of her glass of Serco Ale, she toasted those that she missed. Not all were gone, but her contact with them was limited. Encountering one of them in the blackness of space would fill her with joy and bring laughter to her lips.

She felt the man lock on to her before she could identify him. He smelled of fuel and engine oil and spoke with a slippery voice. “Well, I heard a lot about your ‘credentials’.” smirking as he looked her up and down. Obsidian frowned at his blatant display of desire.

“Ehem! Getting a good view at my assets there?” she retorted.

He looked her square in the face. He chuckled, as he moved closer to her, decreasing the space between them. He’d gotten awfully close, not menacing just, close. He was flirting with her, watching to see how she would react. Obsidian angled herself a bit away from the table and in a syrupy voice “Is there something I can do for you?” Before she even finished the sentence she thought to herself “Flirting?! Why are you flirting with this guy? Why are you letting him get to you? Why? because he reminds you of ... ’

She snaped back into her current situation. He was very close to her now and he perked an eyebrow.

Obsidian tilted her head, “Well? You waiting for someone or what?”

He was trying desperately to get her attention. “My, my, you sure are a dame. If only you would show me those pretty eyes of yours...” He licked his lips “I have plenty of things I would like to do with you but I am looking for Obsidina.” That nickname, she had heard it before; there was a pilot years ago that called her that. Who was he again and why was her past here?

“Before I answer that, what is your name?”

He looked at her oddly and said “Smittens is all you need to know.”

Obsidian tried to not flinch as his breath hit her nostrils. “Okay, Smittens, what do you want?” she was praying that he would need something simple so she could pass him off to some other poor slob.

“I have a message from a friend for Obsidina, or rather you, Obsidian.”

She blinked, memories tugged at the fringes of her awareness. “What is the message?”

“The time has come for you to choose your path.”

Obsidian paled, she had heard that exact wording before. The voice had been calling that out to her last night.

“Who sent you? How did you find me?”

Smittens’ lip curled “Tisk, Tisk, I was certain you would not have forgotten me. Let us just say I work for my own interests.”

She had been cornered by Smittens in that bar two days ago. After that encounter she had made a retreat to her ship and the relative safety of her bunk. Now sitting with her back pressed up against the bed, Obsidian was empty. She couldn’t feel anything anymore, not the pain, confusion, nor sadness. She was just a shell now, and it was the voice’s entire fault. Dazed and groggy from fitful sleep she felt her way into the bathroom. “Still sleep cycle for the station” She thought to herself as she reached for a washcloth and turned on the tap. As she leaned over the sink, cold water filling the bowl she looked into the mirror.

“Geez, you look like death,” she said aloud to no one in particular. Splashing cold water onto herself she sighed, “I can’t keep going like this”.

It was the third night in a row that she had been awakened by “the dream”. The same dream, night after night, and what was worse…it had been identical each time. Why was this happening, and more importantly what did it mean? She turned off the tap and threw the cloth in the sink in disgust.

“I’ve got to figure this out, I’ll go crazy if I don’t figure this out”

ooc:
can we get images to go with the story? particularly that parts where you're showin off your assetts? *grin*
/ooc

bad eize.. BAD lol

It had been a long time since anyone had refused Pancakes. Usually, everyone jumped at the chance for a free breakfast, and it gave the pilot who called himself Pancakes the opportunity to share his views on breakfast.. and less frequently UIT mining policy. Obsidian represented a perfect target on three fronts; she needed to be taught about breakfast foods, needed her eyes opened about mining, and was honestly attractive enough that Pancakes couldn't think only of business. It was almost involuntary for him to press hard when he approached her.

She was a titan among women. Endlessly polite, even as he became more and more irritating at her every refusal. And then it was as if the universe blinked and changed its mind.

Pancakes was on his way back to Odia. He planned to meet a friend there later, but traveling at this hour ensured the space lanes were free of pirates. As his Corvus built fighter glided toward the wormhole, Pancakes was compelled to take evasive action by a scream coming through his radio and the tone of missile lock on his ship. It was her! Where was the graceful woman he had parted ways with five minutes ago?

To describe the battle dramatically would be a travesty. The incoming swarms were evadable as usual, and the phase blaster she added to her 'taur as an afterthought was even easier. Pancakes had a little fun leading her missiles right past her cockpit a few times, as if to menace her with her own firepower. When the missiles were dead in space, she didn't stop coming. Pancakes brought his duel neutrons to bear on the broad side of her ship, then cut it in half cleanly.

The forward section of the 'taur floated in space before the wormhole and began to burn. No ejection was visible. She was still inside! Time was short, but Pancakes happened to have just the right skill set for this job. He made his living as a scavenger. What pirates left behind, he collected and sold. He was expert at maneuvering a TPG Atlas wherever and whenever there was a salvage to be made. But today he was in a vulture. There wasn't time to switch... what options were left? Pancakes set his navigation for an in-system jump to the nearest station and snagged the remains of her centaur with one of his wings. It was an expensive waste of a Vulturius, but effective. The impact with the station's docking bay was probably not what her damaged body needed, but what choice did he have? Once she was cut out of the rubble and buckled into a fresh ship (adorned with pancakes instead of a pilot's name), Pancakes pulled out his oldest comm records.
"Mr. Estenk? I believe I have something that belongs to you. C-5 racing tube, one hour."
"Och, Pancakes, I haven't seen yeh in some tyme..."

It had been two days since he delivered the unconscious woman to her guild leader. Two days, and he'd still not heard a thing. Had she lived? Would TGFT retaliate? Was her attack a result of something he said? It was time to find out.

"Mr. Estenk.. do you have a minute?"
"aye ?"
"I wanted to check in with you.. about your pilot? Obsidian I think was the callsign?"
"hmm... she has wandered off ...... toward azek last I heard."
"Uh oh."
"aye, but the guild has its eyes open"
"Well do you.. erm.. has she seemed aggressive to you lately? She was so polite but then.. well, she attacked me."
"yep. keeps heading off in a 'taur full of swarms. and to be honest, far too impetuous with them."
"She's not very good. I'm afraid she'll get hurt. I had to shoot her down to defend myself. Is there anything I can do to help?"
"well, it was grey and she fired first so, TGFT won't be after you."
"That's.. a relief. Would it help if I talked to her?"
"you could try, but when the red mists down...... I just hope obs doesn't trigger a war"
[100] <Obsidian> MORTAL COMABT!!
[100] <Mecha Touriuas> >. >
Pancakes and Ecka pause for a moment to let the irony sink in before they continue.
"the usual channel for her should work, or something more general on our frequency."
"That might be a better Idea. Thanks, out."

For the next half hour, it was hit and miss...

[444] <Pancakes> Obsidian, Obsidian, do you recieve?
[444] <Pancakes> Obsidian?
[444] <Pancakes> I need a word..
[444] <Obsidian> what word?
[444] <Pancakes> Well.. I wanted to make sure you were okay..
[444] <Pancakes> You went from extra polite to fire-breathing in about 30 seconds so..

Silence.

[444] <Pancakes> I'm sorry, okay? Can't you speak to me?
[444] <Obsidian> YES?
[444] <Pancakes> I asked if you were okay..

Silence.

[444] <Pancakes> Your ship was pretty messed up when I towed it in so..
[444] <Obsidian> I had FRENCH TOAST FOR BREAKFAST!!
[444] <Pancakes> gah!!
[444] <Pancakes> not listening.... not listening!

A few moments later...

[444] <Pancakes> My apology means nothign to you?
[444] <Pancakes> Why do you throw your life away Obsidian
[444] <Obsidian> I spent 3 hours scraping pancakes off the hatch!!!
[444] <Pancakes> AH..
[444] <Pancakes> I didn't remember any of the hatches being intact when I towed you o_o
[444] <Obsidian> WAIT!!!
[444] <Obsidian> were you the one who TOOK MY CLOTHES????
[444] <Pancakes> Heck no..
[444] <Obsidian> WERE YOU the one who TOOK MY CLOTHES????
[444] <Pancakes> NO!
[444] <Pancakes> I just towed your ship before you ate vacuum
[444] <Obsidian> you know I never did find out about who....
[444] Obsidian looks around.....
[444] <Ecka Estenk> hmm......
[444] Ecka Estenk pulls his tin hat down hard ........

Ten minutes later, Pancakes was staring at his HUD, which was telling him a centaur registered to Obsidian was bearing down on him at nearly 200m/s.
[444] <Pancakes> Mr. Estenk..
[444] <Ecka Estenk> aye ?
[444] <Pancakes> If your pilot doesn't come home tonight, it isn't my fault. I was trying to apologise..
[444] <Ecka Estenk> accepted .......

Battle was joined as wise old Estenk continued to speak, a system away and unaware.

[444] <Ecka Estenk> its not your fault Pancakes , I just hope obs doesn't start a range war .......
Pancakes destroyed Obsidian
Combat +250
[444] Pancakes sheds a tear
[444] <Pancakes> Obsidian.. I spared your life, and apologized, what else do I have to do?

Just to clarify, waffles are good for you. Stupid pancakes....

I'm loving all of this...Obs, you pretty much nailed Smittens. Except for a couple things (Like I would ever refrain from use of contractions?! And I would never work for a "powerful person" unless I mistakenly thought I was their equal...but thats okay. The story is good enough that such things are, not only fine, but welcome!)

okay I tweaked Smittens's dialogue. No contractions and he places himself above all others.

Please, no more whining about who's got the bigger part.....

Sorry sorry, and thanks :)

"you could try, but when the red mists down...... I just hope obs doesn't trigger a war"

...

DO IT!
DO IT!
DO IT!