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About This Author
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Intaki Dreams Hello my boy
Please be at peace.
Sleep and dream the night away.
Hello my boy,
Just rest your head.
Sleep and dream with our love.
Kiahm juhiahd namas,
Krpaaya narav
nelya haacu starnelya nahi druevan
Kiahm juhiahd namas,
ahnelya vuunduh kitah
nelya haacu starnelya hyret kivayam kamaikol.
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Paul shivered as he moved through the docking terminal. The cool dry station air tasted alien and after two weeks out in space for his final exams he missed the warmth of his pod. His first mental order on establishing neural link with his capsule had been to deliberately raise the temperature; he'd never liked the cold.
But he'd passed! And if that didn't help him forget his temperature woes, nothing would. He was now a CONCORD certified Capsuleer with Advanced military training!
Everything on the station seemed brighter, and it wasn't just because he was viewing his surrounding with his eyes rather than the filtered vision of camera drones. Six years of hard study were over. He could finally move on with his plans.
Like most Intaki, Paul was thoughtful, and not prone to rash decisions. The weighty decision to become a Capsuleer in the first place hadn't been taken lightly. He'd known of the expense both in Isk and years. He'd known the chance of failure was high. Even though he'd established himself a genetic match for the appropriate implants there were still many potential complications that would have led to his failure in the program.
And then of course there was the ICA - initial clone activation. Dropouts were not uncommon at any stage of capsuleer training, but that one held the top spot. Among non-Intaki anyway. Paul's childhood lessons about Ida and rebirth provided a comforting blanket to that particular decision but it was still one of the hardest parts of training.
As Paul entered the Station-proper it suddenly became populated. A stream of people of all races moved about their business amidst the glittering shop fronts of a thousand traders. An involuntary shudder rippled through Paul: nothing to do with the temperature this time, but instead the untamed masses. He'd noticed it ever since the ICA, something about his rebirthed-self no longer appreciated crowds. A hastily picked side passage took him away from the bustle and towards the cabin elevators. He sighed his relief as the silver doors slid closed and he was whisked high into the station.
His new quarters aboard the station surprised him in their extravagance. Gone was the one room bunk he'd shared with three other trainees. In its' stead was a generous space dominated by a large viewscreen surrounded by comfortable seating. Paul walked past it slowly, savouring the peace, quiet and solitude. It was even heated the same as his pod, the settings must have been copied over.
A corridor led off into the near distance and following it Paul felt his jaw drop at the view of his own private dock. Floating just a few tens of meters away was his training ship, a Tristan class frigate. It seemed impossibly huge, and yet at the same time as familiar as his own body. Just down to the left was his pod. Cargo and maintenance drones moved about the walls of the hangar in a complicated computer-controlled ballet of logistics.
Returning to the lounge, and taking a seat on the sofa, Paul collected his thoughts. A cursory glance at the available controls in front of him showed that he had full access to his neocom from here. Any supplies he might need could be ordered, and delivered straight to his ship. He wouldn't have to face the crowds again!
Calling up the corporation interface, Paul entered in his selection criteria. His father had mentioned several organisations working in the Intaki arena and the next stage of Paul's plans meant finding his place among them. He scrolled through the details of various industrial corporations offering opportunities for rich mining yields and new market experiences. They sold themselves well, but Paul ignored them. He was looking for something significantly more active than mining.
A frown creased his face as he discovered advertisements for a variety of pirate organisations. No shyness here; they proudly declared their activities as selling points. Not for the first time since joining the Capsuleers Paul found himself wondering just what kind of world he was now in. If his Dad could see this!
His swipes on the console became more and more stiff as he moved through innumerable recruitment adverts. Suddenly they relaxed. What was this?
"Namas, pilots and clone soldiers. It is with good fortune you have found the Intaki Liberation Front corporation and Intaki Prosperity Initiative alliance.
We are dedicated to securing independence for a collection of systems in Placid that we call the Intaki sovereignty. IPI and ILF bring like-minded corporations and individuals together to work in pursuit of this and other objectives."
The word 'namas' seemed to slide though Paul's mind like a cooling balm. Memories of his grandmother came back, singing to him as a young boy before he went to sleep.
Kiahm juhiahd namas,
Krpaaya narav
nelya haacu starnelya nahi druevan
Kiahm juhiahd namas,
ahnelya vuunduh kitah
nelya haacu starnelya hyret kivayam kamaikol.
It had never occurred to his younger self to worry about what the words meant, or indeed what they were. The lullaby was all that had mattered. Now it seemed obvious he'd been hearing native Intaki. Given his father's views it was surprising he'd never been taught it. Thought for another time. Paul refocused on the ILF's advert.
The more he read, the more he felt his excitement growing. This was it. This was exactly what his father had dreamed about, talked about, ranted about. Somebody finally standing up against decades of subjugation and neglect at the hands of the apparent freedom of the Federation.
Several hours passed as Paul dug up and read all he could about ILF. For completeness he then went through the rest of the advert listings, and finally went back and fully read the adverts of the industrialists. Just because he was now considered one of the 'immortals' didn't mean his first major decision after training was going to be any more rash than before.
He submitted his application and security details and waited. |
© Copyright 2015 Smee (smeedyer at Writing.Com).
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