Consequences

Consequences

by Mammal Tafren

Under the glare of the lights the hull of the ship felt warm, as if it were an organic thing. He rested his hand on one of the wingtips, fingers just poised on the surface, flexing against the vibrations which rose up from within like echoes.

In his other hand, he twisted a small beaded bracelet over his fingers with his thumb in a smooth motion. Every so often he would raise that hand to his face and inhale. The corners of his mouth would crease with memory as he let the hand fall.

“We’re ready.” The docking manager looked over.

Taking his hand from the warm metal, the man nodded.

“How did it take all this fire in the first place?” The docking manager turned away to key in a sequence in his display. He glanced over his shoulder at the gaunt capsuleer, who was watching his ship. “If you don’t mind my asking.”

The capsuleer turned, flicking a strand of black hair away from his face. He absently smelled at his beads again. “I don’t mind. I was taking it out to Intaki to take a look at the planet my parents came from. I’d never seen it, you see.”

“Dangerous area, Intaki.” Grunted the docking manager.

“Quite.” The capsuleer raised the beads to his nose again. “Some local pirates camped the gate into the region. One of them got off a volley before I managed to get her out of there. You know what a Taranis is like, though. Good lines. Fast. They gave chase, but she was too quick. She got me in and out without much trouble.”

He sighed and his eyes flicked back to the frigate which was disappearing, hauled by mechanical forces into another part of the station. “The did scratch her though.” The capsuleer shook his head.

The docking manager leaned back against the console and looked at the capsuleer. “The people who fly out in those lawless parts of space are no good. Scum, all of them. You’d do well to stay away.”

The capsuleer raised an eyebrow. “I’m moving there.”

The docking manager raised his hands. His eyes widened. “I didn’t mean anything by it.”

“No offence taken.” A smile crossed the capsuleer’s pale face. “You’re largely right. It reminds me of some things I’ve learned. You’re familiar with Gallentean philosopher Francois-Marie Anouet, yes?”

“Um.” The docking manager said.

“Yes, well, he said that we need consequences to remind us to act morally. That, without consequences, we tend to act in our immediate self interests, to take what we want. The problem with all capsuleers is they have had a fairly major deterrent, death, taken away from them. Once you aren’t afraid to die anymore, you take risks and undertake activities that others would not.”

“Ah.” The docking manager produced a hip flask from his pocket and took a swig. He offered it to the capsuleer, who shook his head.

“And, worse than that,” the capsuleer continued. “The people who fly out beyond the reach of Concord have lost a second level of consequences. They are no longer pursued by the law for killing people and taking their goods. It is small wonder then, that the morally weak among them choose to do this. Once the consequences are removed, we often decide to take the things we’ve always wanted but couldn’t have.”

The docking manager looked at the time readout on his display.

The capsuleer looked up. The ship had disappeared from view. “Reminds me of a story. I knew a man who grew up where my family comes from, in the Southern Hemisphere of Intaki. In the valley of a river called Ganga. It’s a highly spiritual place. I went there to see it. Anyway, this man, his name was Maninder, was something of an explorer, and one day, in space, he found an abandoned module. He had no idea what it was, or where it had come from, but he took it and examined it. It turned out to be some kind of cloaking module. Probably Jovian. The point was, that it allowed one’s ship to fire while cloaked.”

“Impossible.” The docking manager coughed.

“Indeeed, as far as we know, but Maninder always claimed to have found it nonetheless. He could have used it for all sorts of things, but he immediately used it to get the things he had always wanted. He put in in a ship just like my one.” The capsuleer gestured vaguely upwards. “A Taranis. And he flew and blew up everyone who had ever crossed him in space. He looted what he could and made the isk and set up his family in a nice house by the Ganga. But it wasn’t enough and he kept stealing stuff.”

“So what happened?”

“Eventually he got sloppy. Went to sleep in a room in a station near here. The FIO had been tracking the incidents and they grabbed him. Took the ship, seized his family’s property and put him in prison. He’s still there and his family are poor as ever.”

The docking manager took another drink from his flask. “So, are you saying the FIO has a Taranis that can fire while cloaked?”

“Who knows? Maninder probably made it all up. He lies like that. But he is in prison. I saw him there.”

Silence. The capsuleer fiddled with his beads. “So, What docking berth is my ship in?”

The docking manager glanced at his display. “Five.”

“Five.” Said the capsuleer. “Thanks.”

“No problem.”

This is my entry to the Inspired By Images Of Eve Competition 2. More details and links to all entrants can be found at Starfleet Comms