Rebirth

“We weren’t the nice boys they thought we were. And we weren’t nice boys, we were fucking little bastards… and we still are” – Sid Vicious

Waking up in a new clone left Thanagherion blind, nothing but a helpless child suspended in warm fluid, in the claustrophic embrace of a glass coffin where sound could not reach her. She kept her eyes closed, although it made no difference whatsoever: she couldn't see anything even if she were to open her eyes wide. Besides, when awaking in a new clone the simple fluttering of eyelids took so much effort, she had learned to conserve all her energy.

There was absolutely no light inside that glass womb. The only images that assaulted her in there were those of her most recent demise. A battle, a big one at that and the world appearing to go into slow motion as the first enemies came pouring through the gate. She could still hear the chirping sound of the first few locks and the gentle rocking of her Drake-Class Battlecruiser as a couple of volleys took flight. Next thing she knew, she was floating on a pod. Shortly after that people were locking her… and then a blank, a crimson and white burst that left a psychological afterimage which was vivid enough to make her try to fill her lungs and scream, to no avail.

She felt her muscles tense up as the fluid which suspended her drained and the chamber opened, her world exploding to crescendo of white light and cold air. She tried to stay up, but her knees buckled under her own weight and she just clattered to the floor like a puppet with its strings cut. The memories of her body weren’t really up to par with the use this clone had. She was a newborn and it would take a few hours until she could break it in and get her normal strength and reflexes back. No matter what everyone told you, walking into a new clone wasn’t exactly seamless. Than cursed hoarsely as her arm hit the metal railing with a loud wet crash. The only sharp, jagged thing in this particular room and she had to hit it. “Typical”, she couldn't help thinking. She eyed the blood trickling down her forearm, pressed her hand to the gash and sighed, enjoying the cold air and the feeling of being alive, all the while trying to staunch the bleeding and ignore the pain. She had better success at the first one, truth be told, but she didn’t allow more than a low groan pass her lips. She heard Moira come into the hall and running to her.

-You know, you could just wait for help. Damn it: that's going to leave a scar and you should have a few stitches.

-Since when you became a medical doctor? It's ok Moira. It's just another dent. Pity, it’s a brand new clone. I’m going to have to live with this one for a while… - she neglected to say she didn’t think “a while” would be that long this time. It was getting serious out there.

-Why do I sometimes get the feeling you do this to yourself on purpose?

-Can you get me my cigarettes? - Than replied, changing the subject and focusing on trying to stand up on shaky legs.

-You should take a shower.

-I know. I just need a bandage and I really need a cigarette and shot of bourbon. Then I'll take a shower to get this gunk off... - She didn't add the "when I'm able to stand" thought which crossed her mind.

Moira sat on the floor beside her boss and brought the Neocom with the appointments for the day. Business as usual was the way to handle Than on moments like this: she did not handle vulnerability well.

-Just cancel everything – she said quietly, stopping Moira before she had time to glance at the information on the blue lit pane.

-What do you mean? – Moira asked, taken aback by the out of character way Than reacted.

-War. War is coming. Now, help me up…

Moira looked at her, eyes widening in amazement.

-Please… Help me, I need to get into an interceptor and try to rejoin the fray. – Thanagherion asked again, a hint of hidden pain in her eyes.

Moira had never seen her boss like that. She was used to the obnoxious, ever joking and an overall infuriating impersonation of a human being… she wasn’t used to seeing her ask for help. She wasn’t used to think of her like a real person.

-How bad? – Moira managed to say, putting the Neocom on the floor, between the two of them.

-Bad. Here, - Than keyed a few commands that gave Moira access to battle reports and comms, while she fumbled with the lighter – see for yourself.

Moira glanced at the data, gently took the lighter from her boss’s hand and lit the cigarette, then proceeded to take one from the pack and light it up herself.

-We can beat this. We will beat this. You guys are survivors, after all – she replied, after a minute of silence.

-Yeah, well… not if I stay here sitting on my ass. By the way, that cigarette is comin’ out of your paycheck.

Now, that was the obnoxious Thanagherion she knew and hated.

Smuggler's run

“Though I fly through the Valley of the Shadow of Death, I shall fear no Evil, for I am at 80,000 feet and climbing.” - At the entrance to the old SR-71 operating base Kadena, Japan*.



Than rolled out of bed, her eyes bleary and unfocused. The ceramic floor felt cold to her naked feet and she upped the heating to a more comfortable 22º. She tried to run her fingers through the tangled mess of her hair to no effect and quickly gave up. The lights were mercifully dim and warm, so she could actually tolerate them without making the headaches worse.

This wasn’t the worst hangover in her life, but it was bad enough to rank in the top hundred.

She quickly glanced at the bourbon bottle on the table, trying to piece together the previous evening. She didn't remember bottles being so small. There was no way she had downed that bottle and didn't remember it. No, she wasn’t drinking that much, Moira was simply getting smaller bottles to mess with her head. She quickly rummaged through her jacket pockets, producing the faithful pack of cigarettes and lit own, pulling a long drag that almost made her sigh.

A quick check via link confirmed her pistol was on the vault and hadn’t been fired – not bad. She didn’t feel any bruises or scrapes, so, the evening couldn’t have gone too bad. Nothing on the newsfeed indicated she had done anything wrong – if she did she didn’t get caught or got captured on camera. So far, so good!

Her assistant snored softly on the couch, sleeping wrapped in a yellow wool blanket. She didn't quite remember how Moira ended up there either, but her brain wasn't really working yet, so she decided to chalk everything up to lack of sleep and the terrible hangover. Postponing any complex form of thinking was as good an option as any other, when considering the way she felt.

-Bet this is pretty much what being part of Sansha’s Nation is like – she whispered to herself, her voice coarse and dusty.

She ordered the pot to start brewing some coffee, while establishing a connection back to her home station, trying to get in touch with the Corp brass. Her left hand shot to a bottle of cold water, while her right fiddled with comms volume and cut the visual feed. Everything sounded louder than it should, so she kept dialing it down until the echo inside her head subsided to manageable levels. Impatience was mounting up and the long wait for coffee wasn’t helping.

-It’s a Zombie Than! – greeted Kasumi after hearing her first words, if you could call whatever noises she had made “words”.

Then the discussion about the run – wait, what run?! – started. Eyeing the floating hologram of her active ship, everything clicked into place, just as the coffee pot sent her a warning that her breakfast was ready. If the Strategic Cruiser was out there – and she actually craned her head towards the hangar to make sure it was - waiting for her, then she was running cargo back home. Working as a smuggler again: after all these years, she was back where she started: only the degrees had changed.

It served her right for getting her Typhoon blown up over a communications distraction – she made a mental note (again) never to have an argument with someone while flying in combat, even against rogue drones. The truth was, she needed all the ISK she could get and the easiest way to do so was going back to a job she knew quite well. Also, that Marauder Class skill book hadn’t been cheap, so she definitely wanted to amass ISK fast, considering the hull would be more expensive than her Carrier.

A hint of a smile blossomed on her lips. It was funny how History seems to repeat itself: she had met Moira in one of her smuggling runs and couldn’t really leave the young slave child in the clutches of that Amarrian, so she ended up smuggling her away. She was just a teenager back then and watching her sleeping like that, peacefully, brought those memories back: in a way she still looked like a child to Than.

She was suddenly yanked back to reality by the sound of Ice’s voice calling a status report on the location of all the goods. The slight edge in his voiced hinted that it hadn’t been the first time he’d asked.

-My contacts are finishing the pickup runs and dropping it at the staging point. I’ll be ready to run the pipe in a few hours – she replied, looking down to the

-Do you trust these people? – Ice asked.

-Does she trust anyone? – Wulf jokingly asked.

-I trust these people as much as I trust myself.

-Great! – her CEO replied with not so discreet sarcasm. - Either way, do not get ganked! There’s a lot of money riding on that run.

-Is that supposed to make me relax? – She groaned, while stretching her arms and hearing her shoulders pop.

-No, Kasumi’s threats of a kneecapping by battle-axe should do that.

-Yeah, yeah…

A few hours later, Than was slinking away through low-sec and null-sec, her Strategic Cruiser invisibly heading back home, with a grumpy Moira cursing at her, while trying to ignore her own headache.



*OOC – I couldn’t really verify if this quote was ever there. Granted, I only made a cursory check, but considering I like to use quotes which are as accurate and verifiable as possible – and preferably good literature, but this last piece I sometimes overlook – I’d like to note that I couldn’t really confirm this one. It is still good, so even if it is an urban legend, it’s a good one and I wanted to use it for so long I’ll just snatched it.