There's something very disconcerting about getting an email from your former self.
There I was, sitting pretty, blasting through the interstellar black at 5 AU per second, and slowing by the second. The stargate was ahead of me, gleaming in the wan light from the system's primary, and I was working my way through one of the latest holodramas: "Station On Station," a classic medical drama from the early post-gate era, about a frontier starbase doctor. I had a Asteroid Brewing Corporation 'Amarrian Heritage Stout' open next to me (virtual, but it was almost as good as a real beer), and I had my legs up on the control panel, just enjoying the starscape and Doctor Station's occasionally cruel but entirely justified antics on-screen.
Then the holosim blinked out, abruptly, and tactical data started blasting into my retinas. I was locked up, hard. I swore and pivoted, tasking a camera drone, but he had me cold. I was still decelerating from warp, unable to do a thing, and he had obviously been following me for a system or two. I cursed my carelessness and locked him back, just as his first volley hit me, punching through the Uncharitable Remark's shields and armor. A Hyperion, I noted. Gallente blaster boat. Definitely overkill for a tiny frigate like mine. A priate, then, I thought, triggering the afterburners in a last vestige of hope. Maybe I could...?
The answer was a resounding no, as the second volley blew through my now-paper-thin armor and ripped into the reactor core. I sighed and hit the ejection command sequence, my pod exploding out of the wreckage of my ship, twirling in space as I cursed and resignedly replotted my course. But the targeting alarm did not abate. I checked it, and swore, vehemently. This was no simple pirate. He had targeted my pod, the thin meter of tritanium between my body and the cold void. I triggered my comms, trying to get through: Silence. As I saw his blasters charging for the killing blow, I couldn't help but wonder-- what would death feel like?
I woke up, feeling like I had forgotten something.. but it was so hazy, like an old dream. Then I realized I was in a clone tank, and I remembered the events surrounding my awakening all too clearly. Accessing my reno's email function, I saw a small, inoccuous mesage from... myself. Dated sixteen hours ago. I opened it.
2009.03.14 02:12
So you died? Well, you have a Clone Grade Eta at Akhragan VIII - Moon 5 - Ministry of Internal Order Logistic Support station. Enjoy your afterlife.
Shivering, I climbed out of the tank of gel, shrugging off the attendant's attempt to help. I had a life to reclaim.
Occasionally I'll post in-character stories from my travels in EVE Online, of which this is the first. I hope you enjoy them.
