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His breath rasped loudly through his respirator. Silently, the young Matari slave cursed it, the object that enabled him to breathe would likely now be the object of his destruction. Any minute now, he was sure the Amarr guards would hear the metallic grating of his breath, and he would be found. His life would be over.
The thought made his knuckles whiten around the wrench - the only weapon he had managed to grasp during his wild flight away from the transport ship where the other captives were kept. Pure luck had let him escape; luck enough to be captured by Amarrians arrogant enough to leave the deformed, barely alive slave in only the loosest of chains. He'd slipped them, and as soon as they reached a station he had made a run for it, limping as quickly as possible away from the hated ship. Like a mouse he fled blindly into the depths of the station, losing himself within miles of labyrinthine maintenance tunnels.
The distant clanking of footsteps grew closer. The boy slave sobbed with fright, the noise coming out strangely from behind the voice augmenter of the respirator. Closer, and closer. The staccato of his pounding heart grew louder and louder in his head, until it almost drowned out all other noise. The coppery tang of blood was in his mouth - all his muscles tensed ready for one last stand against his captors.
The footsteps stopped just outside the door to the storage cupboard he was in. There was a long moment of silence, with the boy frozen like a rabbit in the headlights. The door hissed open. A flashlight pierced the gloom, as the Amarr slaver scanned the debris. For a moment, the boy was certain he'd been caught; the light paused and silhouetted him like a halo. Another pause, dragging on for years, and the slaver was gone.
Alone in the dark, the boy cried, heaving sobs wracking his tormented body.
~~~
Years passed. The boy slave was never again imprisoned by Amarr slavers, but his hatred of them never ceased to grow. Hiding in refugee camps, always on the move, he was forced to augment himself with crude technology in order to repair the more permanent damage done to him. The boy, now a young man, chose the name Vertechs to signify his love for machines, especially starships. His dream was to become a capsule pilot, and to fight against the Amarr slavers in the abyss between the stars and planets.
As soon as he could, Vertechs joined the Republic Military School, and prepared to wage war against the Amarr. In the capsule, in space, all his physical disabilities meant nothing, and for the first time he experienced true freedom. Now Vertechs plans to use all his skills and abilities to free other slaves, and let them be truly free.
OOC: That's that for now, I think. Might edit it later.
About me; just looking for the thrill of blowing stuff up, the fact it's Amarr helps. ;D
3.2 million SP, some experience of 0.0 life, so on and so forth..
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