Dear Diary: The misadventures of Gurristas Arrogator part 2

Minding the Mindless


It’s amazing how fast euphoria wears off. I thought pirating would be the thrill of a lifetime. Instead all it has turned into is a rash of headaches. I didn’t know how badly a T2 Ibis was outgunned when I first began on this path. Now it has become all too painfully clear. When I attacked my first target at a gate I didn’t understand why Concord didn’t mobilize to stop me. I understood perfectly after my pod was forcefully separated from my ship… they saw me as no threat. I hardly rated as a nuisance to them. After being podded for the 48th time and scalded with cries of, “OMG, J00 N3WB!!!!11!!!” I had had enough. I layed into my superior when I docked my pod into our secret base out in the dead space of Kisogo.

“Just what the hell are we protecting in these systems?” I yelled at him. “What, are we protecting the rocks? Yes, that must be it because Veldspar is so fucking important! I mean, we certainly couldn’t mine it in any system we come across because it is so fucking rare right!”

My superior looked at me as a high born Amarian might look at a chunk of SPAM congealing on a plate in front of him.” Defending these asteroid sanctuaries is very valuable work for us. They supply us with the resources for building things. Things such as the ships that certain of our members seem to lose over and over and over again.”

Yeah, change that last description about the SPAM to a member of Ushra'Khan eating the SPAM with his fingers in front of the high born Amarian and you would have a more apt comparison.

I decided, in my infinite wisdom, to launch a counter attack back at him. “Well perhaps if I wasn’t forced to fly this rattling death trap then I could actually protect your oh so precious Veld!”

He paused and then said in a flat voice full of cold and menace, “If you are not happy with your assignment I am sure I could find something more suitable for someone of your… temperament.” With that last word I saw his hand streak forward, felt an impact to my face, and then saw blackness replace everything.

I awoke with the long dead Earth composer John Phillip Sousa playing his greatest hits within my skull. I gradually came back to my senses and looked at my surroundings. I mused to myself that there might be enough room to swing a cat in here, but the cat better be ready for a few nasty bumps on the head. The room was dimly lit and the entirety of it was painted that drab shade of gray that encouraged suicidal thoughts.

I finally had collected my senses enough to stand up and try the door. Locked, as I had ultimately expected. I tapped my codes into the keypad and got in response a red light and a message saying rejected. Yeah, they couldn’t be bothered to requisition out shaving cream for two weeks but they yanked my codes in less than an hour. It was then that I smiled and started to laugh. The laugh sounded like madness but I didn’t care. The smile was so wide it hurt my face. Again I didn’t give a flying fuck. The initial training/brainwashing may do a lot of things but nothing can truly change who and what you are down at the core of your being. One of my deepest traits included being an incredibly sneaky bastard, and it was this trait that would save my ass.

To come: Part three. Dr. Strangelove or: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Bomb