Tombstones

Published on 01. Jul, 2008 ... written by Ultin Harvor, Tags: Fan Fiction

The sharp wind whistled through the graveyard as the aging man led his grandson to a particular tombstone.
“‘Here lies Kibadan Huorola.’ How did he die, granddad?” asked the young boy as he hopped from foot to foot. It almost made me laugh out loud to see it, he could never keep still. I reckon he will become a dancer, a big star on the Gallentean stage, touring the starts until he becomes wearing with the routine. It’s always the same with these young things; they burn too brightly and too quickly, until they do not burn at all.
I looked up at the horizon, the bright sunlight striking his face as I gradually formed a strong and resolute look.
“Be still and I’ll tell you, the events leading up to his death happened years ago. Long before you were born.”

* * * *

His running footsteps echoed throughout the night as he ran. He never looked back, all that mattered now, was running, getting away from the darkness that chased him, hunted him to his exhaustion. Only once did he allow himself to look back, unfortunately for him it was this moment that the feral furrier, one of the many mangy gangs emerging all over the city, chose to dart in front of him. The pain of the heavy fall resonated through his jaw as he turned his head back ahead of him. He tried to right himself but swiftly found that his legs were of no use to him anymore, looking down he saw what he feared, the Slaver Hound. Not just any Slaver but that Slaver, the Slaver of the man that hunted him. It was pinning his legs to the floor quite patiently.
Time seemed to drag along, staring into those eyes was unnerving at first but as he began to accept his fate those fears dropped away. Then he heard it, regular yet swift footsteps of his fate approaching down the alley. As the silhouette came closer it took out a half smoked cigar and chewed on the end, without lighting it.
“At last I have you,” said the silhouette.
“So it seems,” he replied.
“I have to commend you on your efforts, you are very good.”
“You are better.”
“Mmm, so it would seem.” As he pulled out his Minmatar made gun and fitted the silencer.
“This is it then, I am ready to face my fate.”
“I know,” he said, then pulled the trigger.

* * * *

5 weeks earlier, in a prison cell….
Power was his weakness. He knew it, everyone else knew it. But nobody knew it more than I. It was his power that let me into his life. How? What would a man with complete control of the drug trade throughout the east want with me? I’ll tell you what; I could offer him more power of course. Had I any intention of giving him any you ask. No. I gave him a little more, a few contacts that’s all, just enough to let me into his life. Enough to get me close. Close enough to try to take his life. I failed of course; I wouldn’t be here if I succeeded. Well, maybe I would. I took his wife though. Don’t look so shocked, I didn’t take her life. I took her will, and then I took her in every way possible. He never found out, that’s what made it all the more ironic.
It doesn’t matter now though. I failed, and that’s the bottom line. And because of me all the security companies are raking it in. But even professional security can be beaten.
If you know how.

* * * *

Kibadan Huorola rose to another day of work among the mining colonies in the dangerous newly discovered Drone Regions. It was backbreaking work, and all he had to do was shift the ore that was dropped while transferring from one part of the mining outpost to another. But it was good pay, one which would pay for an early retirement in the lakes of Cistuvaert VII where he could enjoy his hiking and photography. If he worked some overtime as well, he had worked out, he would be able to buy himself a small one man ship to travel between planets and eventually work up a collection of images of the different worlds surrounding his home planet. He looked forward to that day when he could finally say goodbye to this dirty, smelly work and he could wake up every morning with the sound of the wind and the feel of a Sun upon his face, not this bland routine.

The word came through at about 10 o’clock in the evening, just after the miners had finished work for the day. Each and every man received a message addressed to the masses, it outlined the problem that pirate activity has increased 10 fold in the past week and very few cargo ships containing vital supplies were getting through the blockades.

* * * *

“Some cuts will have to be made Eramoda. Recent drops in profits signify that something must be done. Either an increase in sales or a cut in costs will have to be made. One of the lesser known systems perhaps, maybe in Nullsec. Somewhere where pirates can be blamed for the lack of support coming from Empire Space. Then deal with the workers there, some industrial accident. Blame it on a rogue Capsuleer. Yes, that’s fitting. Pirates, Capsuleers, fuel their hatred for the high and mighty. See to it,” ordered the CEO of the Deep Core Mining Corporation.

“Understood,” replied Araka Eramoda, CFO of the said corporation.

Araka walked out of the office and went straight to his own quarters within the company Station. Once at his own desk he opened a private and encrypted line of communication to his man in the newly discovered ‘Drone Regions’.

* * * *

It would be easy, so easy. All you require is a plan, or at least and idea of how to kill a man. Of course, plans all sound so easy in your own head. Only in other people’s heads can flaws be found. Because of this I would need an accomplice, someone who I could trust obviously. But finding another who would go to the lengths I would is the difficult part. Then contact would have to be established, a meet would be necessary, finally, if everything works out alright, the plan would be executed, and my revenge satisfied. Ah yes, the lust for revenge. You yearn for it, with every atom of your being, you can think of nothing else. It utterly consumes you, the need for the revenge for the deaths of everyone you know, everyone you care about. Everyone you ever heard about even. And then to find out that the very man responsible was none other than your boss, someone you have known and loved for years, the reason for your life as you knew it! It shatters you that someone that with whom you have spent the majority of your life in close proximity to, betrays you like that and leaves you out to die.

But no matter, soon he will taste his own blood.

* * * *

Kibadan Huorola awoke to the sound of sirens wailing and an automated voice informing the habitants of the mining colony of hull breaches. He grabbed a jacket and ran out of his quarters. All along the corridors workers were strewn, some of them not whole people anymore. But still people nonetheless. As he ran towards the shuttle bay, in vain hope that there would be a shuttle left.

‘It’s a long shot in the dark,’ he thought as he ran. The shot missed, all the shuttles were gone but not without a struggle it seemed. There were bodies here as well, but these ones hadn’t been trampled in the rush to escape like the others. They had bullet holes, and neat work to. This didn’t seem right so Kibadan took 3 deeps breaths to calm himself then walked over to the control panel for the hanger. As he over rid the security clearance with his knowledge of electronics, especially that of station controls, the door leading into the hanger whispered open as 3 DCM Guards rushed in to investigate the security override.
“Hey! You,” shouted one of the guards, “get away from there!”
Kibadan continued to see who were the last people to escape in a shuttle.
“Move away from the panel before I shoot!”
“Get out! Get to the safe areas!” yelled another guard.
Kibadan didn’t move. His fingers were a blur over the keyboard to the control panel.
“Enough of this,” growled the only guard yet to speak. He aimed and fired his high tech Gallente made weapon, luckily for Kibadan it was only set to stun. The guards were ordered to use ‘reasonable force’ to ‘help’ stragglers get to the safe areas. Kibadan collapsed as the plasma bolt hit him in the side, just before he blacked out he saw the panel flash the message:

‘Last shuttle undocked at: 01:54
Araka Eramoda, CFO.’

* * * *

“Do you think you could do it?”
“This man destroyed my life, my dreams, everything. I am like you on this, absolute dedication.”

He was a middle-aged man, about 6 foot 3 inches. Yet he had one of those rare talents of being able to blend in, even with his muscular build. He did something on the inside to make himself invisible. He sort of turned something off and when he did so people didn’t seem to pay him any attention at all. He was invaluable to me in that respect, that being that he may be able to get into places which I could not. This, coupled with his humble backgrounds, made him a necessity to the plan. One without which I could not succeed at all. He said his name was Kibadan Huorola.

“So we are agreed then? We will meet once more then execute the plan?”
“That is correct. Although you will need a Slaver Hound for this to work,” I said.

* * * *

“‘Here lies Kibadan Huorola. Former worker of the DCM Corporation.’ He was a good ally to have. Unlucky for the CFO of DCM he didn’t know that he could be a dangerous enemy. Especially when you don’t know that he is your enemy.’
I limped along to another row of tombstones. Stopping every now and then to lean on my walking stick and catch my breath. I hate getting old, even with the advances in medical technology it gets harder to come here every year. It doesn’t help that the treatments also get more and more expensive as time goes by, some, like dear Kibadan, just can’t afford them as the years fly by.
“‘Here lies Araka Eramoda of the DCM Corporation.’”
“He was a bad man wasn’t he granddad.”
“Yes he was, yes he was….” My voice trailed away as I thought about my life, his life and everything that surrounded them. Minutes past until I came to my senses and realised that it was almost time to leave.

As I led my grandson away from the graveyard my communicator buzzed for my attention, “Nanata Eramoda here.”