Posted - 2004.03.14 09:19:00 - [1
“If you hate a person, you hate something in him that is part of yourself. What isn't part of ourselves doesn't disturb us. “ – Hermann Hesse (1877 - 1962)
“In time we hate that which we often fear.” William Shakespeare (1564 - 1616)
“Thank you Pulgor!” The Ammarrain holder expressed. “I don’t know what we would have done if you didn’t come.”
“I do what I can.” Pulgor stated.
“Well, allow us to repay you. You and your people have done an excellent job!” The holder said once more.
“No need, we are taking a small sample of the Lysomes virus for research purposes, if I can have your signature on this release, then that will be payment enough.” Pulgor then produced a form that had a standard legal contract for the release of rights of the Lysomes III-BVirus.
The holder didn’t actually create the virus. However the Ministry of War space station in Imya had become contaminated with it. Pulgor’s team of Purple Cross administrators was unable to figure out how. The virus had also mutated and had an official name of Lysomatic Mutilator III-B. However the unofficial name was simply called “Lysomes III-B.” It was a variation of the 3rd mutation of the Lysomes virus and had proven to be extremely dangerous. It was caught quick enough to prevent fatalities however many people were infected and although the virus was purged from their bodies they would feel tired, dizzy, and have extreme headaches for at least a week. The problem would have been much worse if Pulgor’s Ship wasn’t docked at the station when the outbreak occurred. Since the virus first occurred on the station, the holder actually had legal rights to it. However the release, gave Pulgor and The Purple Cross ownership rights as well as the last remaining vile of the virus.
The vile of the virus was contained within super hardened silicate glass and then further protected by a lead box that had vacuum seals all along the lid to prevent any air from getting in and potentially getting contaminated should the vial crack. The box was also fitted with a security lock and monitor to ensure the virus didn’t escape.
Pulgor watched from a hanger observation deck as the virus was loaded aboard his ship. He then bid the holder ado and began to walk down the clanky metal stairs to the entry where his Rupture stood. Being that the Rupture was a cruiser it was suspended in mid air above the actual pad that supported it. Pulgor boarded a small shuttle to get to his ship. ITX-9 reported to him, “The vial of Lysomes III-B is aboard and safely secured in the cargo hold, master.”
“Thank you ITX-9, I believe we should disembark and head for the asteroid belts, we have mining to do.” Pulgor prepared to climb into his capsule.
“Very well master, I will prepare the ship for launch.” ITX-9 stated in a crude mechanical voice. He then left and went to the control room.
The ship floated gloriously out of the station, and began to align for warp. As the warp engines were about to kick in, the ship kicked to battle alert! “Alert status 3! Warp scramble detected! Unable to generate a stable warp field! Prepare gunnery turrets!” Pulgor voiced to the intercom.
“Master! Gunnery is pointless. Our tracking systems are being disrupted! We cannot target the enemy ships. We believe them to be of Blood Raider origin!” ITX-8 announced.
“Trying to dock with station again.” Pulgor announced, “Unable to activate sub-light drives. Enveneration field detected, we are dead in space, I repeat, dead in space!” Pulgor announced.
‘Blood raiders! I’m not in the mood to give blood today!’ Pulgor thought to himself. “Sealing hatchways! They won’t get in!” Pulgor announced.
With a clank the docking ports sealed. The docking ports were made of a composite material using tritanium as a base and then carving crevices in the surface and littering the inside with megacyte, zydrine, and Isogen. The doors were the strongest part of the ship.
“Master! The station defenses have been disabled. The Blood Raiders are focusing mainly on us, however!” ITX-9 stated. “They are beginning to penetrate our armor, Master!” ITX-9 then added excitedly.
The blood raider ships circled the rupture and firing their lasers at the ship eventually peeled off the armor plating. The last thing keeping the ship together was the hull. “The Blood Raiders have ceased their attacks, however one ship is moving into position beside the cargo bay.” Pulgor announced on the intercom. “I’m switching to internal monitors.”
Posted - 2004.03.14 09:20:00 - [2
Edited by: Pulgor on 14/03/2004 09:26:18
Pulgor could see why they stripped off the armor now. If the ship were to explode those hatchway doors would be all that was left. The Blood Raiders instead took off all the armor plating and were now using their laser to cut a hole into the side of the ship! On the internal cameras he could see the sparks flying. Pulgor activated a containment force field. This was only useful in preventing the air molecules from flying out, thus stopping a vacuum environment. However the force fields were designed such that solid matter like a human or an object could pass through the field. The field merely conformed to the shape of the object.
The Blood Raiders finished their surgical cuts and the piece they cut was as big as a standard door, and it detached and floated into space. Two Blood Raiders entered wearing space suits. The picked up the box with the Lysomes III-B sample in it, and then exited the cargo bay through their self-made door. Then the Blood Raider ships activated their warp drives and jumped out of the system.
“Master, I recommend we dock and repair that hole they made.” ITX-9 suggested.
“I concur ITX-9, docking with station.”
* * *
Pulgor traversed the corridors, trying to find a repair shuttle operator that was free. The stations defenses were still disabled. Repair shuttles were being used to diagnose the problem and fix it. This left little free for Pulgor to use to repair the gaping hole in his ship.
A man accosted Pulgor, as Pulgor was hurrying down the corridors. “Excuse me sir!” The man asserted. Not a request but more like an order. The man was the same race as Pulgor, a Brutor. However he was clearly a member of the Brutor tribe as he had a necklace around his neck with a Brutor insignia on it. It looked like a “C” except squashed and with the back stretched into a spike. A similar “C” shape was in the center of the larger one shaped the same way. The larger shape also had two spikes midway from its back to the top curve.
“Can I help you!?” Pulgor asked.
“No, you can help yourself mislead one!” The shaman said.
“I don’t understand.” Pulgor stated.
“This station houses 3,000 Minmatar slaves! You have preformed an atrocity healing the Ammar here and the slaves. You should have let them die, the slaves would have been better off in death then in life, child.” The shaman explained.
“I preserve life, not judge when it should, and should not be extinguished. I’m not god.” Pulgor argued.
“You preserve the life of sinners!” The shaman screamed, “You would dare to preserve the life of those who hold your people back! Who torture and mistreat them! Who rob your people’s freedom! You have no morals. I offer you a chance of redemption.” The shaman stated again.
“And what’s that?” Said Pulgor sarcastically
The shaman didn’t even have a facial reaction to the question. He just continued on, “I hold in my hand your chance of redemption, a chance to prove to the Brutor tribe and to Minmatar everywhere that you are a good man, and not a serpent!” The shaman then discretely showed Pulgor the contents of his right hand, a plasma grenade. “Toss this shell of retribution at that Ministry of War office. Extinguish their lives and prove you fight for the freedom of your people.” The shaman ordered.
“I won’t do it.” Pulgor answered.
“You must! You are Minmatar, the tribal blood flows through you. You must feel hatred and disdain for those that enslave your own people. You are bound to it by custom, by heritage, and by god!” The shaman commanded.
Pulgor saw a two man station security force walking by. “This man has a weapon!” Pulgor screamed. Then Pulgor separated himself from the shaman. The security force noticed the plasma grenade and attempted to disarm the shaman. “You have forsaken your own people demon! You are a black sore on the Brutor tribe, and mark my words, you will be expelled!” The shaman shouted he then activated the grenade. Before the two guards could get away, they were caught in the blast and all three of them died. Pulgor had a hard time digesting this scene in his memory. He sat down and reflected on it for a few minutes.
* * *
The ship now repaired Pulgor examined the slip of paper:
If you want the Lysomes III-B sample back, you will meet our employer at the AMC station, Tanoo V. Warehouse R-19.
Pulgor knew that was the Ammatar Consulate HQ station. He prepared his ship for departure.
Posted - 2004.03.14 09:58:00 - [3
Edited by: Bhurak on 14/03/2004 19:56:42
Posted - 2004.03.14 13:13:00 - [4
“Master, we are leaving so soon?” ITX-9 asked.
“Yes, I think that the Brutor may be missing that shaman and if they have a brain in their skulls they’ll know I decided to turn him in!”
“You are correct, Master.” ITX-9 concurred.
They prepared the ship and it sailed out of the station once more. Pulgor had only warped to the first star gate when trouble appeared. “Master! Three Brutor Rifters and a Bellicose have taken formation behind us! There is an incoming message for you Master!”
A comm. window appeared in Pulgor’s view and a Brutor face populated it. “Pulgor! You have turned on one of your own! The Tribe has promised to exonerate anyone who can capture you. I and my posse hope to be the first!” With that the window disappeared and missiles were flying into his ship.
“ITX-9, put all energy to the shields, I’m going to attempt to outrun them!”
The ship began to take massive damage. The newly repaired armor plates started to disintegrate at the will of widow maker missiles. For five more jumps the pummeling continued, once they began to enter Ammatar space however, the shooting stopped. “Master! Excellent news! The Ammatar fleet is engaging the hostiles!”
“Wow, saved by the bell. Strange they would help us though.”
“Maybe they saw it as a law violation, I do not know Master.”
“Regardless, let’s hope the rest of the journey to Tanoo is uneventful. I’ve had my fill of action for the day.” Pulgor sighed.
As Pulgor wished, the rest of the trip was uneventful. The Rupture floated into the hanger of the Ammatar Consulate headquarters. Pulgor disembarked from the ship. He went to the location indicated on the slip of paper, warehouse R-19. As he was en-route he noticed that the station was kept amazingly clean. As well, he wasn’t getting odd looks from the Ammatars here. Very strange as normally he would not be accepted in this place. No Minmatar would.
He then arrived. Upon opening the door he noticed a solitary spotlight that illuminated a chair and a side table. Pulgor examined the chair. It was obvious he was to sit in it. He complied and sat down. As he did, another spotlight came to life and it illuminated a desk and a woman behind it. She seemed dressed as if she was going to a formal party or other such affair. Pulgor recognized her from somewhere. He couldn’t think of it.
“Greetings Pulgor.” She said. Her voice sounded perfect. Like a sirens call. There was no flaw. Even the most professional speakers sometimes have a faint gurgle, flint, or rasp in their voice, this woman had none. Pulgor suspected vocal surgery.
“Who are you?” Pulgor questioned.
“I am Imulia Aeduin. CFO of the Ammatar Consulate. I have summoned you here.” She explained. Pulgor remembered now. When he was with the republic fleet they had him memorize all kinds of portraits of important officers.
“Well I’d like my sample of Lysomes III-B back.” Pulgor stated.
“All in due time. You will get your sample when we are finished and not before. I want to talk to you.”
“Well, you could have asked!” Pulgor stated again.
“Would you have come if I asked?” She questioned, knowing the answer.
“No, I guess not… what is it you want?”
“I want to talk to you. I want to talk about hate, do you hate?” She asked, she lit up a cigarette as she asked her question.
“Hate what?” Pulgor attempted to clarify.
“Hate anything. Hate the Amarr for slaving your people. Hate me for bringing you here. Hate the Brutor for attempting to convert you, and then try to kill you.” She clarified.
“Well, no I don’t. I don’t have that capacity. Not for lack of trying, however I see the Amarr as their own people, with their own culture. I see the Brutor trying to ‘save’ me. They are just doing as they believe. Hate you for bringing me here? If you really just want to talk, I can’t hate you for that. As you’ve proved, I wouldn’t have come here had you not done otherwise.” Pulgor answered.
“I see, some Minmatar do hate. The hate us, they hate Amarr, and it would seem you’re working your way there soon enough. Do you know what people do when they hate?” She asked, thoughtfully.
“No, I don’t. I’ve never hated anyone so I can’t really say.” Pulgor answered.
“Well, to hate what you cannot understand is nonsense. However to hate apart of yourself is easy. Many people self-hate. However most don’t know it. When people hate, they want to remove that which they hate. It’s a natural reaction. Like a fly buzzing in your ear, however in the process of removing what they hate, they often become what they hate. That is how come Ammatar and Minmatar cannot co-exist. They hate us. We don’t know why they do. Most likely it has to do with our Nefentar ancestors. That is how come the only language they understand is a blaster. This is also why the only recourse is to fight. If they were to conquer Amarr, they would enslave it, a form of revenge. The mind is a complex instrument that produces simple results.” She paused.
Posted - 2004.03.14 13:15:00 - [5
Edited by: Pulgor on 14/03/2004 13:15:53
“Interesting, what does this have to do with me?” Pulgor asked.
“Well, you are not like them. The fact that you haven’t blasted me yet proves that. You exhibit tolerance. Also an open mind and you can solve problems with your brain instead of your brawn. This makes you different from your Minmatar brethren. I have been monitoring your debates on the GalNet. Every time you talk about a solution to a problem that doesn’t involve blasting Amarrains, they are quick to condemn you. As you so eloquently put it, ‘stop measuring your fellows by the Amarr corpses in their holds.’”
“Well, I’ll admit that I don’t agree with their methods.” Pulgor said, searching for a statement to make.
“Indeed you do not. The Amarr enslave races until they mature from slavery to fill a niche in Amarr society, like the Ni Kunni. The Minmatar are headstrong, aggressive, they would make perfect laborers, collection agents, enforcers, even CEO’s, anything that requires a confident, aggressive personality. However they have this hate that reduces those qualities to nothingness. They end up being like a creature you see in a zoo. The Amarr use slavery to enlighten these people, to breed the hate out of them. It takes centuries but it works. Do you know why fear is a central motivator in Amarr society?” She asked.
“No, I don’t.” Pulgor answered.
“People will hate what they fear. It’s a check in the Amarr system. If someone ends up murdering their holder then it means that he hated them. That person would be a relic from an unenlightened race. Like that poor Jalik fellow that murdered those people a week or two back. I think we can agree on this, yes?”
Pulgor remembered Jalik from when he followed the Q-Religion which he had abandoned. Pulgor realized that he would have to agree with that, “I would have to agree on that, I suppose.”
“Pulgor, I’ll tell you what. I have enjoyed this little talk. Thank you for coming down, I do greatly appreciate it.”
“I liked it myself actually.” Pulgor said.
She then got up from her chair and walked over to the side table beside the chair. She placed her hand on the glass top and an audible *click* sounded. She opened the top and reached inside to produce a lead box, the same one that held the Lysomes III-B virus. “Here is your virus, sir Pulgor. I’m sorry I had to keep it from you.” She apologized.
“Thank you Ms. Aeduin.” He took the box, and he got up to leave.
She interrupted him, “Now that you have what you came for, I have one last question.”
Pulgor turned around, “What’s that.”
“I want to know if you wish to join Ammatar society. It’s quite clear that the Brutor have you exiled from theirs. What do you say?” She asked nervously. Which is the first time Pulgor had sensed any emotion from her whatsoever.
“Well, indeed that is true. I don’t think I’ll be heading to Minmatar space anytime soon….” Pulgor thought for a second. He was never really welcome as a Minmatar. He would never be welcome in Amarr, or any of the other states. He felt something about this place. An attachment, something he couldn’t explain. It was as if he belonged here. “I think I will take you up on that.”
”Do you swear to uphold Ammatar law, and hail the land of San Matar as your new home? Also do you swear loyalty to the Ammatar governor and all he represents?” She asked.
Pulgor hesitated for a second, but then he saw his purpose clear. He saw the path before him without the fog and mist in the way as before. “I swear.” Pulgor said.
Imulia smiled, “In that case, welcome to Ammatar Pulgor.” They shook hands.
To be concluded....
ZEALOT WARRIORS AGAINST TERRORISTS
Curatores Veritatis Alliance
Posted - 2004.03.15 09:29:00 - [6
great story pulgor and you're quite a skilled storyteller i think
Posted - 2004.03.15 10:10:00 - [7
Pulgor had rented some quarters on the station. He felt a sense of completeness here. It was as if this was where he belonged. Pulgor received his first mission from the Ammatar Consulate, where he was assigned to work. It was a simple delivery of some reports. Pulgor proceeded to leave when a young man stopped him. He was more of a boy, about 16 or 17. “Uhm, are you Pulgor?” The boy asked nervously.
Pulgor examined the boy, he was obviously some sort of minor laborer. He wore a gold colored Ammatar Technician jumpsuit. “Yes, I’m Pulgor, what can I do for you son?” Pulgor asked.
“Well, the crew has gone over your ship and repaired some of the electrical problems that are inherent in its design. We’ve also gone over the hull and placed several structural enhancements to ensure stability under stress. I need you to sign this work order.” The boy gave him a clipboard with a five page work order on it.
“I never authorized this, who had this done?”
“Ms. Aeduin authorized and paid for the modifications.” The boy stated.
A smile crept across Pulgor’s face. He signed the bottom of the work order and handed the clipboard back. The window in the corridor looked out to the Rupture, “It’s beautiful isn’t it?” Pulgor admired.
“It is a fine ship.” The boy concurred.
“What’s your name, son?” Pulgor asked.
“Jason’s the name, sir.” He replied.
“You’ve done a good job, Jason. Personally I reward that kind of thing. Here’s 100 ISK. Treat yourself to something special.” Pulgor handed Jason a roll of bills.
“Wow, thank you sir! I don’t know what to say. If you need anything done, you name it. I will get it done for you!” Jason responded excitedly.
”I will, I must be going now. Thanks again, Jason.” And with that, Pulgor left down the corridor to the boarding shuttle.
* * *
Pulgor had just gotten out of Ammatar space when the shots began to fly by his Rupture. “Master! A Typhoon class battleship is demanding we cease our flight and prepare to be boarded!”
‘Crap!’ Pulgor thought to himself. He checked the systems, he didn’t have a choice. The engines were all jammed and the Typhoon battleship was already peeling off the armor plating.
Pulgor opened a communication window to the owner, “I am surrendering my ship and crew to you. Please cease your attack.”
Pulgor waited, the shooting stopped and the battleship responded, “Good choice, Ammatar scum! The Brutor tribe will be happy to have you back, heh heh.”
With that, Pulgor released the locks on the hatchway doors and put his vessel into standby. The marines from the Typhoon battleship boarded the ship. They took Pulgor prisoner. They didn’t bother to check the ship for anyone else. They clearly didn’t want the ship, just Pulgor himself.
Back aboard the Typhoon battleship, the first in command decided the best way to belittle Pulgor was to have him be a slave onboard their ship. They even went so far as to inject him with vitoc. “Hey Ammatar slave! If you want your vitoc you have to dance for us!” The Brutor said sarcastically.
“What?” Pulgor exasperated.
“You heard me, dance! Or no vitoc for you!” The Brutor said in a more serious tone now.
Pulgor began to dance, as he did he reflected on irony of this. The Amarr had once slaved the Minmatar people, and now this Brutor had turned the tables. It was interesting how revenge works. “Okay slave, that’s enough awful dancing. I’m afraid you didn’t dance well enough to deserve your vitoc yet. However if you scrub the plasma conduits on C-deck, I will reconsider.”
Pulgor grabbed a plasma sweeper gun, and began to screen the conduits.
* * *
It seems they weren’t going to transport him directly to the Brutor tribe. He’d been on board for three days now and day by day Pulgor was given more ugly and belittling tasks to do. He reminded himself that the more he allowed himself to suffer, the more the Brutor win. They wanted to break him, but he would not break. He returned to the Brutor for his next task, “Well, I’ve been thinking of anything else you could do, but I can’t. However I can’t. I’ve decided to let you go.”
“Somehow, I don’t think you mean that.” Pulgor sarcastically observed.
“Oh no, I am. You’re no longer my slave. However since you’re no longer my slave, I don’t see any need to provide you with any more vitoc.”
”I thought the Brutor tribe wanted me alive.” Pulgor questioned.
“They did, but I managed to convince them otherwise. Now sit down. Any minute you’ll begin to feel the symptoms of withdrawal. You will suffer the painful death that my brother suffered in the Amarr mines. I want to watch every second of it.”
Posted - 2004.03.15 10:10:00 - [8
“Your hate will be your undoing, Brutor.” Pulgor commented. Before he could react the Brutor’s hand came down across Pulgor’s face. “You will condescend me! You are fortunate I have a heart. I could torture you until you die of starvation! Now curl up in that corner while your system begins to suffer the symptoms of withdrawal!” The Brutor pointed to a corner of the mess hall that they were in.
Pulgor sat in the corner. He began to feel dizzy. He knew in a few hours it would get worse. Excruciating pain, difficulty breathing, and then internal bleeding as his organs would literally devour themselves. Pulgor began to feel the pain, he had problems focusing. Where was he? What was happening?
Suddenly he shook violently. It wasn’t a reaction to vitoc with drawl, it was the ship shaking. “Alert! We are under attack! All hands report to battle stations.” The intercom bellowed. “Blast! I was hoping to see you suffer, oh well. It will have to wait.” The Brutor hurried out of the room.
The ship reverberated from a hit again and Pulgor heard something clank on the floor. He had to get his mind off the pain. He focused on the object that was on the floor. It was a gun it looked like. However this gun had some kind of clip on the top instead of the side or bottom. It had two clips, one on each side. It was the vitoc injector gun! Pulgor had to get to it. ‘Only 12 ft to the gun. You can do it Pulgor’ He told himself. He stood up, his legs gave out and he fell to the floor. Screaming in pain from vitoc with drawl he crawled to the gun. Every inch of the way it felt as if someone was ramming knives into his joints. He snatched the gun. He could feel himself fading. The life draining was fleeting out of him. He injected the vitoc. However he felt no different. Then everything went black. Pulgor collapsed into unconsciousness.
* * *
When Pulgor came to, he was on a bed of some kind. His vision blurred, he only saw a bright light above him. However soon the vision cleared and he sat up, “Damn! I ache all over!” He screamed.
A Purple Cross doctor approached his bed, “You went through the symptoms of vitoc with drawl. You nearly died. We retrieved you just in time.” The doctor said, in a deep analytical voice. “I have administered a cure for the vitoc however it will be sometime before your system returns to normal.”
“Pulgor!” Pulgor recognized the voice. It was Jason, the laborer who worked on his ship. “I’m glad to see you are all right. Imulia was worried too.”
“I was.” She answered as she appeared from around a corner. She portrayed no emotion, however Pulgor knew it was there. “Luckily we found the battleship before you suffered that fate. I’m glad you’re alright.” She let a smile form on her face.
”Yeah, me too sir.” Jason added.
“Well, so am I.” Pulgor noted. “Ugh, I feel like crap, think I’m going to take today off.” With that Pulgor laid back down, and went to sleep.