Author Topic: Dark Watch  (Read 1068 times)


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Dark Watch
« on: February 21, 2013, 08:13:23 PM »
Another insight into Raige's fractured psyche

The bridge of the Stiletto was quiet and the lights were dimmed, leaving everything in gloom and with an eerie red tinge. The only sounds were the faint hum of the ships engine, the occasional tap-tap sounds as Raige worked on his hand computer and the quiet snoring sounds from Jiny where she slept half sat; half sprawled in the big flight chair she occupied.

A light flickers on the console in front of Raige and he puts down his computer to look at it. He ponders it for a moment then makes some adjustments to the controls until he seems satisfied with whatever caused the light to come on. Looking at his wrist chronometer he sees it is about 3am UTC, three hours into the Middle Watch, everyone else is asleep.

This is Raige’s favourite time, when there is no clamour from the others, no frustration at having to persuade them into action or listen to their idiotic plans and pointless chatter, not having to control his reactions or his mood of not having to work so hard. Instead he can sit in the peace and quiet and let the thoughts and ideas racing through his head have space, it is the time he can sift through them all and process them, that he can analyse the projected outcomes of his actions and plan for the coming day.

Someone like Claudia might say it is when he goes through his self-therapy, where his Id and his Ego fight for balance, for Raige it’s how he keeps himself together.

Whatever it is, his thoughts now race and clamour for attention. Ideas and outcomes, plans and possibilities, rights and wrongs all flash through his mind, all balanced by the mundanity of running the ship. Not all his thoughts have the same voice though or the same morality. Not all of his thoughts sit comfortably with him, just as not all his reactions are his own and this is something Raige is acutely aware of. A consequence of his time on the Hellburner project, of the tape learning and memory implanting he was subjected to time and time again. Perhaps it was the barrage of hallucinogenics and psychotropics they pumped into him as well. Or perhaps they just opened cracks that were already there, too many horrors witnessed.

Tonight though these thoughts plotted his future, where next with his ship. To his many thoughts the possessive was most definite and correct. What best to keep it flying? Keeping it flying meant credits and maintenance, this meant entanglements, reliance on others, risk. How do they get credits? No honest trade for sure, piracy then, smuggling, some outside sponsor…But what outside sponsor? Some external enemy of the Federation? Some internal faction opposed to the current order of things? Was there civil war coming when Sleer went, would it come sooner? What would the factions be, would the Federation survive, how long would it take, how would it fracture? How to avoid the mistakes of the past…

The last thought rang through his mind. How to avoid the mistakes of the past…There had been other rebellions, Blake and Avon of three decades earlier the most notable. They had ultimately failed, and probably simply helped to strengthen the Federation’s grip on power and pave the way for Sleer’s rise to power in the aftermath as the consequence of it all. How to avoid that calamity was the thought he now followed.

The similarities were obvious. Now, as then, they have an advanced and powerful warship, are on the run, declared terrorists and with reason a plenty to hate the Federation. The choices Blake had made were obvious ones, natural ones, fatally flawed ones. How to avoid the same trap? Sit and wait until the fractures appeared then try to prise them open? Try to manufacture the cracks from the current stresses? Or sit and wait, doing nothing, hiding until the new regime was in place then striking while their control was not yet firm and the wounds of the internal strife were still fresh?

He needed more data; why had they made those choices, why had they failed since they were so obvious? Was Avon the key? Did he need to find the Hispaniola? Somewhere in his thoughts this seemed to gain ascension, but also the thought that somehow the Stilletto was still so very important. That thought that compelled him to take the ship in the first place still remained. Its very existence could fracture the Federation he suspected. It spoke of collusion with aliens and of the corruption of the Scientific Warfare division, but then so much of the fabric of the Federation should repulse its citizens, if only they weren’t kept so chemically compliant. Where then did the Stiletto fit in?

He tilted his chair back to look up at the ominous, trailing connectors of the ships interface helmet above him.

What if he plugged in now, without the drugs, without the mnemonic implants? Could he control the ship at its maximum performance? Would it overwhelm him? What secrets could he unlock with it? He reached up towards it, running his hand over its strangely curved surfaces. He felt a twinge of nausea rising in him and withdrew his hand. He would have to gain mastery over these feelings and learn how to harness the full potential of this ship.

One thought followed another, and turned full circle as he ordered his priorities, pulling his thoughts together like strands of a rope. The next planet fall would be soon, and they needed funds and the relevant documentation…how best to obtain this had to be considered. Simply bluffing their way in again might work, but eventually would fail catastrophically. They could use Caro to fake their idents and account details, perhaps the best option. They could steal another ships idents and account details instead, probably using Caro for that as well. Useful in the short term, in the long term the best option would always be obtaining legitimate details…something to obtain on Freedom City perhaps but before them they still needed something to get them dockside.

The chronometer on his wrist lit up, a silent alarm to tell him it was 03.55 and nearly the end of this watch. As he looked at his chronometer he realised his hand had been caressing the interface helmet again, again he withdrew his hand and switched off the alarm and stood up.

He walked over to the chair where Jiny still lay fast asleep, snoring gently to herself. He carefully brushed her bright green fringe out of her eyes and looked down at her for a moment... then stepped past her chair to the console next to her and brought the bridge lights up to 75%

“Jiny, wake up, its off watch, you can go to bed if you want”.


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Re: Dark Watch
« Reply #1 on: February 21, 2013, 08:51:57 PM »
Jiny starts and half asleep falls out her chair, cracking her head on her console on the way to meet the floor. 'Ah! fuckenbastardpileo'....' pulling herself to her feet the grumbled stream of obscenities continues as she shuffles sleepily off the bridge

...sorry I couldn't help myself....  ;D
Another good piece, still think your an egomaniac though  ;)
The whole ship influencing you though.... very creepy
« Last Edit: February 21, 2013, 08:55:41 PM by Nitch »
When Life Gives You Lemons
Shut Up And Eat Your Damn Lemons!!!!!


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Re: Dark Watch
« Reply #2 on: February 21, 2013, 08:55:31 PM »
Is it egomania if its true though  :P