Warning: A basic understanding of the EVE Universe will make this fic alot easier to understand but it is not required as anything mentioned will be explained or can be searched up for picture references. Also this fic contains course language and graphic violence.
You lived and died alone, especially in fighters. Fighters. Somehow, despite everything, that word had not become sterile. You slipped into the hollow cockpit and strapped and plugged yourself into the machine. The canopy ground shut and sealed you off. Your oxygen, your very breath, you carried into the chilled vacuum, in a steel bottle.
There he sat, in the quiet stillness of his own cockpit. Through his fighter he could feel the super carrier slight vibrations as they warped to location. He knew it would be a good while yet until they reached they're destination, even thought the ship was going several AU a second it took a while to warp between star systems. That's what they had jump gates for to cross the cosmos in a blink of an eye yet, rather unfortunately, the super carrier he and his craft currently resided on was to large a vessel to utilize them. And now he just sat preparing himself for the coming engagement.
These were the moments that defined his life. His century long life. He wasn't a capsuleer who would pilot the greatest of starships singlehandedly but he was the next best thing, an immortal, the infantry equivalent of a capsuleer. Yet even after becoming an immortal he dreamed of flying so enrolled in flight engineering and became his corporations most successful dropship pilot, he would fly two or three sorties non-stop. His missions varied from hot dropping squads into an enemy controlled facility or retrieving stranded capsuleers who had crash landed on desolate planets. But after half a century that had become dull and monotonous, as if he was just going through the motions. So he looked to the stars.
He got into contact with one of his corporations capsuleers who's ass he had saved a few times and asked for a favor. A week later he was transferred and given his very own fighter, now it was originally a bog standard Templar-class amarrian fighter no different from anything the normals piloted but he was an immortal he had countless years of experience stored in his genetically enhanced brain. He crafted it into a work of art, fine tuning the calibrations and adding a surprisingly expensive fit on the craft. It was easily worth a frigate with the amount of modules installed into the ship, armour hardeners and repairers, capacitor rechargers, speed rigs and upgraded weapons made his craft superior to almost any it's size in the region. How long it had been in service was a testament to that, almost sixty years. It was the Retribution. And it was the embodiment of his skill.
As the the gentle vibrations of the warp engines started to slow he slipped on his pilots helmet, the Heads Up Display coming to life showing the ships shield, armour and structure integrity, his capacitor and his weapon status'. He quickly opened a comm-link to the other four pilots who made up his wing, they were all normals or people who had no enhancements or implants. "Alright as soon as we drop out of warp we are leaving this hanger, outside is an enemy fleet consisting of ships all sizes from frigates to an enemy Titan. Remember your rules of engagement, all non friendlies will be marked in red but keep your fire focused on the small stuff. Drones and enemy fighters are priority target we will be keeping them busy while the fighter bombers have a chance to hit frigates destroyers and cruisers. If you get split from the formation find a wingman and stick with him. Are we clear?"
Four affirmatives lights blinked on in the left side of my HUD. He wasn't surprised by the lack of a vocal reply, he knew he was an outsider to the normal pilots because he showed the capsuleers that immortals were more efficient than normals and they feared being replaced.
The hanger was plunged into an eerie red-light, that was their cue. He took off quickly pushing his craft to maximum velocity, a staggering 4000m/s, he quickly arced of from his formation. He would just be slowed down by the unimproved ships and he could cause more havoc alone, his wing could look after them selves. He was about a hundred klicks from the battle but the distance was closing fast so he quickly scanned it over to find where he was most needed. He saw an enemy drone squadron harassing a Prophecy frigate, quickly doing calculations he lined up a shot that was leading one of the drones and fired a volley, the multifrequency lasers melted through the armour and contacted the drones power supply causing a small explosion which he tore his way past just a second after most of the debris had cleared and flew off to find a new target. He opened his NeoCom as his latest burst lanced it's way into a Minmatar drone bay causing multiple hull breaches and destroying and drones it had stored there.
Glancing down at the NeoCom that had opened on his HUD there was a priority message to the entire fleet. 'Dammit! All the gaps we are making are being closed to fast! But we've located the enemy Fleet commander it's a legion just inside warp range and just outside of weapon range! Take it down of you can!'
A Legion? Quickly he pulled up a schematic for the ship and scanned it over. A Strategic Cruiser, multiple configurations, this one was equipped with a Drone Synthesis Projector which meant it was almost defenseless up close, Interesting it had a hanger bay that could be landed in but it seemed it never was considered to be a threat because normals never dared to fly into the ship. Well I'm no normal and I've always wanted to run a capsuleer through.
He took off weaving as he went even though no one was firing at him all it took was one person to notice what he was doing and he would be space in a heart beat. And at his current velocity there was an entire minute that he would be vulnerable with out support and nothing to duck behind if he was locked. He could feel the sweat start to bead off his forehead and his hands tightened on the joysticks. His vision tunneled and he took in every detail of the nearing Legion, the graceful curves and gold plated armour that formed the basis of Amarr engineering, the slowly rotating pair of turrets...
"Fuck!" he yelled rolling just as two green beams lanced through space missing by such a small margin that the shield still flared. The ass hole had put point defense turrets on his ship, small fighter sized weapons that pumped out a metal ingot the size of an outstretched arm through space at near three times the speed of sound, ever half a second and these ones were made out of depleted uranium. "Shit, shit, shit, shit!" hey cursed as more sabots flew his way and he was forced to push his machine to the very edge over loading all of his propulsion systems to squeeze every ounce of speed that he could. He didn't even bother trying to fire back he knew he was going to fast to accurately aim and even if he did land a hit the shield would protect the turrets.
The distance was so infintisamly small only two thousand meters out, half a second. Now your probably thinking half a second that's not a long time at all, but when your dealing with an angry capsuleer who had personally taken over the controls of one of the turrets half a second was a death sentence.
The sabot crashed into his left wing blowing it from the rest of the ship and with it one of the three engines. His speed decrease dramatically but he managed to hold it together just long enough to enter the hanger and make a 'landing'. He quickly grabbed his service weapon, a burst fire scrambler pistol that fired laser induced plasma fuel by an energy cell, and his Nova blade, a custom job which blade was wreathed in plasma and the metal body was shaped like an ancient weapon called a Kurki. He jumped out of the cockpit blade in his right hand pistol in the left and looked at his pride and joy and by just looking at it he knew it would never fly again. It was disheartening, the ship had guided him through more skirmishes and fleet ops over the years than he could count. He sighed audibly and started toward the bridge of the ship.
As entered one of the hall ways a loud voice echoed through ship. "Dammit! I've been boarded, Helen I need you to initiate Operation Rapture we can't let them into the system the shipyard is wide open. Lawrence your acting fleet commander I'm going to deal with this asshole who thinks he can run around my ship!" He grinned to himself the idiot was broadcasting his fleets communication channel on the ships PA system, the capsuleer probably didn't realize that his announcement had given his foe a great advantage, a warning.
He advanced slowly glancing down at his motion tracker every so often and it was completely empty. That was the best part about boarding capsuleer ships, no matter how big or small the ship only had a single occupant that guided it through space. He was nearing the bridge or so the schematic he was following said he was, suddenly his motion tracker blipped. The bastard was behind him! He whirled around just in time to see a capsuleer in civilian clothes rugby tackle him. Landing on his back the air in his lung quickly vacated his body as the capsuleer slugged him across the face snapping his head to the side, he thanked God he had his helmet on otherwise his jaw would have easily been broken. Regaining his senses he lashed out with his kirki, the plasma shroud on the edge of the blade made the cutting edge just over two atoms thick, because of that sharpness the blade went straight through the capsuleers arm and only stopped half way in his chest because the was no room to carry through. Standing up he looked down at his bleeding opponent, his left arm dangled from barely a centimeter of flesh and red steam was floating up from his exposed rib cage as blood flash evaporated when it came into contact with the super heated plasma that made the blade so deadly. Leaning down a wrenched the blade from it's organic sheath and looked down at the still alive capsuleer. "This is for my ship asshole." and with that he swung the blade with such force that when it contacted his head it shattered and the blade sunk two inches into the steel floor.
Looking up he saw a large door that opened to reveal the bridge. In front of him stood a floor to ceiling reinforced window, looking out side he could barely make out the flashes of light that signal the fleet battle was still ongoing. The only ship he could make out was one of the titans, it was easily the size of a space station, and in front of it a large ball of golden light seemed to be condensing. He watched in awe as the ball shot forth a golden ray of pure energy, it was massive like holy crap the beam is half a kilometer in diameter massive and it impacted the jump gate. The jump gate that just happened to be sitting not even one kilometer from him. He knew he wouldn't make it out of this alive. When the gate overloaded and exploded he and the legion he was on world simply cease to exist, not even ashes would be left, it be like he and the ship never existed. So he did the thing that any sane person would do when they realized they stood on deaths doorstep.
He kept smiling as the shield on the gate gave way.
He started to laugh as the armour literally melted off the frame work.
His smile faltered when the gate went critical, it didn't explode in with the immolating power of seven suns, no it started to collapse in on itself, pieces disappeared only to be replaced by a dark purple energy that radiated out wards.
His faltered smile was replaced with a frown as the entire gate was replace with a warping and swirling mass of dark purple and black energy.
The PA system came to life with shrieks of terror "MY GOD! ITS A WARP BUBBLE!" A warp bubble, the one known and proven method to kill capsuleers. Permenently. No clone, no chance of survival. No one came back after entering a warp bubble, it was deaths bouncy ball.
The sounds of anguish and pleading washed over the PA. Many of the pilots, capsuleers and normals were weeping.
His smile returned as he rode out his last voyage listening to the symphony of despair. Right into the heart of the warp.
Oh? What's this? This is something new. This is my first foray into the world of Gundam Seed and infact my first into the entire anime genre. About a week ago I started to watch Gundam Seed on a recommendation from one of my friends. I went into it with preconceived ideas of how it was going to be, over exaggerated, that it would contain the crappy Pokemon-esc animations where the graphics completely change and would suck in general. What I found was an engaging and deep story of a war that changed the live of a group of teenagers, it's wasn't light hearted but grim and realistic. It's realism and grim atmosphere comprise me to keep watching and eventually see what type of fanfiction presence it held. And damn. Was I ever disappointed. Nothing against you guys but there tone of stories that are just remake and rehashes of other peoples ideas and even more that don't capture the gritty realism that made me actually watch the show. Once again not bashing just not what I hoped for. So here I am writing for this universe trying to bring a spark of originality to it. And I say I bring a spark is because when I sorted all the stories by reviews three of them were athran hire cagalli as a secretary ON THE FIST PAGE! There is something wrong with that.
Hopefully this is received well and my time was well spent.