Last Son of Prano - Chapter 10.

D-Day minus 1.

Venal
UTZ-7B
Y-4CFK – Planet 1 – Belt 1

“Prano. Is that name supposed to mean something? It's just another slave's name as far as I'm concerned. As for this datacore...” Karo said with a dominative chuckle as he turned his Pilgrim and locked on to Gigaer's Hurricane, “... you'll have to come and get it!”

Gigaer responded in kind by locking on to the Pilgrim and priming his combat systems. The Pilgrim could not match the Hurricane's offensive and defensive potentials, but the Pilgrim was made to cripple its target before pounding it into slag. Gigaer closed the distance between the two craft as quickly as possible so he could bring his 425mm autocannons to bare. Karo grinned. His repair systems had brought his electronic warfare systems back online and to full capacity. He felt like a spider allowing a fly to drift into its web.

The Pilgrim was rocked violently by Gigaer's opening salvos, and just as the Hurricane entered optimum ranges, a flood of exotic energies rushed out of the Pilgrim's emmiters and swallowed the Hurricane in deadly light. System after system malfunctioned and went offline, bringing the Hurricane's violent advance to a complete halt. Targeting systems overloaded and blew out the main relays, leaving him with manual control. Navigation and propulsion struggled futily to keep the ship at speed, but Gigaer was effectively stationary. Trying to reroute systems through each other only delayed the inevitable as his capacitor was being both crippled and sucked dry.

Gigaer's Hurricane was reduced to a floating can as the Pilgrim began its modest assault on the crippled vessel's shields. Normally such an attack would not succeed, but with Gigaer's power systems being put under so much strain, the shields were not recharging, and armour energizing systems were in a similar situation. If Gigaer could route power to his comms, he would have heard Karo cackling madly and proclaiming his Amarrian superiority over his Matari prey. Gigaer's shields began to buckle.

All Gigaer had was life-support, manual control over his turrets, optical sensors and shield emmiters. Gigaer linked his turrets to his sensors and set pointed those at the Pilgrim. Setting that aside for the moment, he routed his shield emmiters directly to his brain through his implants. Dropping into a trance, Gigaer felt the universe through his shields.

He could feel them shudder under the impacts of the Pilgrim's lasers and ripple as wave after wave of exotic energies and frequencies from the Pilgrim's electronic warfare systems distorted them. To Gigaer, it all sounded like two symphonies trying to impose their own sound over each other. Gigaer would have to orchestrate a new song to overcome Karo's overwhelming tune.

In his trance, Gigaer's mind danced among to waves of light and energy, trying to find a way to free himself. His mind raced as he manipulated his shields. It was all such a complex puzzle, and the Pilgrim's sound was becoming more and more deafening. What was left of his shields flickered and flashed as they complied with Gigaer's commands as best they could.

“I am Prano. I am the guiding light of my wayward people. I am the bridge to this world and what lies beyond, to this life and the next. I've come a long way, and I've trained myself hard. Many have sacrificed much so that I may bring my people back from the dark, and I will not let those efforts be in vain. I will not fail my mother, my father, my people and my destiny. Finally, and most certainly, I will not be defeated by the likes of you!”

Waves merged, frequencies coalesced and the sound of resilience boomed from Gigaer's shields, blasting away the dark tones of the Pilgrim and sent them crashing back at Karo. The Pilgrim's electronic warfare systems turned on themselves and began to rip the ship apart. Karo's laughter became seething rage and confusion as his systems began to self-destruct.

“What's happening? What have you done to my ship you mongrel?” Karo screamed over the comms.

“The spirits are punishing you for trying to kill their emissary. You've sinned against forces that make your god's wrath look like the cries of a tantrum-ridden child.” Gigaer responded as he manually aimed and fired his autocannons, still under the mind-expanding effects of the trance. The alpha strike from six massive turrets all hit home, ripping through nearly non-existent shields and thin golden plating, severing the capacitor from its conduits and housing. The Pilgrim lurched and went dark and still.

Gigaer took a few minutes to bring a few key systems online before he moved into range of Karo's ship. Using salvaging manipulators, Gigaer tore into the Pilgrim's hold and extracted the datacore. Gigaer set course towards the gate and warped away, listening to Karo's emergency assistance transmission, which was comprised mainly of raging Amarr curses and incomprehensible screams.

---

D-Day.

Heimatar
Ortner
Rens VII – Moon 17 – Brutor Tribe Bureau

The Hurricane had barely made it into Rens in one piece, having to be towed into dock and told his ship would cost more to repair than it was worth. He left it to the deck crews to strip the ship down for materials and usable components. He'd need a new ship later.

Caldari datacore in hand, Gigaer made his way across the promenade towards a local bar. The Serpent Lounge. His contact was the proprietor there. He'd hand off the datacore and hopefully the contact would have new information for him about what he should do next. Gigaer smiled as he went over his journey thus far. “A tale of four datacores, one from each major empire in the galaxy.” A small laugh escaped him at the thought of being sent after a Jove datacore next.

Gigaer entered the establishment and made his way to the bar. The place was crowded but oddly quiet. Most Minmatar bars were much more lively. He weaved himself passed patrons, who were mostly starring at overhanging vidscreens and talking in hushed tones as newscaster voices spoke loudly and gravely. Gigaer would have liked to know what all the fuss was about but he was far too occupied with finding his contact.

Seliah stood behind the bar, looking up at the screen and preparing a drink. Gigaer stood in front of her and rapped a knuckle on the bar. “It's a fine day for destiny.” he said. That was the first part of a code Gigaer was to use to identify himself to his contact. Seliah was to respond with -

“If you have the stomach for it.” She half-nodded to Gigaer. Seliah was a beautiful Matari woman whose eyes said she's seen far too much and preferred to not speak unless necessary. She was all business. Gigaer produced the datacore, but Seliah only looked at it and smiled grimly. “Good work, Gigaer. But the contents of that datacore no longer matter.”

Gigaer was confused. “Why is that?” he asked as he took back the datacore and placed it in his pack.

Seliah pointed towards the vidscreens, and Gigaer finally looked up to see what all the interest was. The sight of two massive fleets, one Minmatar bearing the insignias of Thukker and Elders, and the other Amarr, flying the flag of Jamyl Sarum, battling furiously over Mekhios, rocked him. Reporters franticly conveyed reports of chaos in all four corners of the galaxy, as well as an attack on CONCORD.

Gigaer would later check the contents of the datacore, and find the Elders plans for the very incursions that were now being executed. “You completed your mission and the plan went forward as expected. You are to be commended.” said Seliah as she handed Gigaer an data disk. Within Gigaer would find a dossier detailing his new life. He'd be a pilot of COGNet Spacesystems Ltd. under his assuming clan name. COGNet was actually a front for an organization known as the Ushra'Khan, an entity that acted outside the law to take down slavers and acted as a sort of dark conscious for the Republic populace, much like the Defiants acted for the Republic establishment.

“Welcome, brother. A new age is beginning.” said Seliah as she moved off to tend to her patrons. Gigaer could only look around to the other Minmatar in the bar. There were many faces that displayed unease and fear. The future was always an uncertain thing to them, but now the uncertainty was taking on the colour of blood.

These are my charges, handed to me by destiny. I must lead them through the dark times ahead and along the path to spiritual enlightenment and harmony. That is my duty and I accept it with all that I am.

Gigaer took a silent oath and walked out of the bar, leaving the newsfeeds and worried souls behind. Every step filled him with more conviction as he made his way to market. He needed a ship, and there was lifetimes of work to be done.

Last Son of Prano - Chapter 9.

Chapter 9.

D-Day minus 2.

Venal
UTZ-7B
Y-4CFK – 0.5 AUs above star's northern magnetic pole.

The details were quite simple. A Gurista data-thief by the name of Jaynis managed to decrypt some transmissions belonging to the Elders that he came across while scouring the net. He sent a message to an assistant to Shobhena Yoonareyd (Chief of Surveillance at the Ministry of War) named Karo. Jaynis and Karo have had dealings in the past, and Gigaer suspected both were double-agents at some level. Jaynis had somehow managed to convince Karo to meet him at the Gurista Testing Facilities here to make an exchange. One would get information that would make his career, while the other would come into money few Guristas dare dream about.

Gigaer had spent 29 days painstakingly tracking Jaynis' movements, looking for an opportunity to reweave him of his burden. However, Jaynis consumed a large quantity and variety of narcotics on a daily basis and his extreme degrees and variations of psychosis (such as paranoia) served him well, as his security measures were always solid. After all this time stalking, Gigaer was forced to his last option: the day of the deal. He would have to wait until Karo exited the station and moved into another region, then pounce on him and take the information. This added the task of returning soon after and killing Jaynis, due the the possibility he would have made a copy of the data for himself.

Gigaer waited near the magnetic pole of the system's parent star, which obstructed the Guristas' system-wide sensor sweeps from seeing him, but a tight-beam scan directed at the station's port offered him a satisfactory view. The ship he was looking for, a Pilgrim, should pop itself out and head for the gates, beginning its long trek back to Amarr space with all due haste.

Sure enough, after nearly 20 hours of waiting, out came the Pilgrim. Gigaer was about to activate his warp navigation systems to follow when he noticed the Pilgrim was not alone, and was not heading for the gate, but for the one asteroid belt near Y-4CFK I. The companion ship was a Gila, and Gigaer knew it had to be Jaynis. His paranoia must have gotten the better of him again and he decided the station was too crowded a place for such an important deal to be brokered. Better to make the trade where nobody else would be watching. Once they arrived at the belt and settled near a large rock, Gigaer realigned his sensors towards the two craft. At this range, picking up a wide-cast transmission was easy, and Jaynis was probably too tweaked to take that small detail into account.

“Are you finally satisfied? The deal was that I come alone, and I did. All I have to do is wire the funds to any account you want and let you walk away, right? That was the deal we made. All I want is this information you say will make my career. Can we finally make this transfer so I can get out of this God-forsaken place?” spoke the pilot of the Pilgrim. Karo sounded like he was suppressing some frustration, and Gigaer guessed that Jaynis had begun to get on his nerves.

“Only when I'm satisfied you really intend on letting me live. You could have dozens of cloaked ships watching us right now, waiting to kill me once you have what you want.” said the pilot of the Gila, who Gigaer recognized instantly. The nasal, jittery voice of a man constantly about to fly off the handle and into a drug-induced craze. Jaynis didn't cope with stressful situations well, especially when he couldn't just kill the source of his fear.

Gigaer gave his micro warp drive a quick burst then shut everything down that could be easily detected at range. Only his life-support and passive sensors remained active. His Hurricane drifted towards them as Gigaer prepped his systems for a quick restart. Without a cloak, he would drift dark and frictionless towards them, then once he was close enough, reactivate his systems and have them at an instant tactical disadvantage.

“You probably think I'm easy to manipulate, don't you? You think you can just lure me out here so you can kill me and take what's mine?” Jaynis yelled over the comms. His breathing was getting shallower and Gigaer could tell he was about to go into his panic-induced frenzies. Gigaer had witnessed these before during his stalking of the man. Jaynis would pull a weapon and kill everyone around him if his stress-level rose too high, wielding near-superhuman abilities on account of the near-lethal cocktail running through his veins. He'd actually be quite well-off financially, if he didn't have to constantly pay people off when they come looking for compensation for a wrecked establishment or vengeance of some sort. Jaynis' Gila lurched in the direction of the station, attempting to align for warp. At the same time he fired a few random rounds at Karo. Jaynis had not bothered to target the pilgrim, but at this super-close range and zero motion the shots still did moderate damage to Karo's shields. Karo acted quickly and locked down the Gila with a webber and scrambler. The Gila slowed as energy shimmered around its hull as a warp field futilely attempted to form. Jaynis continued to fire but the Pilgrim's shields were too strong for him to punch through.

“You're not going anywhere, Gurista heathen. I won't suffer because you can't control your emotions or your habits. Hand over the data at once or I'll destroy you.” yelled Karo. Jaynis' panic attack was reaching its heights and the only thing coming in over the comms was a lot of unintelligible screaming, moaning and crying. The shimmering around the Gila became more violent as the screaming increased. Gigaer and Karo realized Jaynis was trying to overload his warp drive in a suicidal effort to break free. Gigaer quickly restarted the Hurricane's systems, as Karo would be far too concerned with what was going on in front of him to notice another ship coming in from his flank.

The Gila bucked as its engines were pushed far beyond their limits. Karo dumped extra energy into his restriction systems as his emitters overheated. He continued to yell Amarrian curses as his systems glitches due to feedback, releasing and sending the Gila sprawling into empty space. Seconds later internal explosions tore through Jaynis and his ship, transforming the Gila into a smoldering wreck. Obscenities continued to pour out of the Pilgrim as Karo tried to mitigate the damage done to his own vessel, unaware that the he was still transmitting.

Gigaer was about to remove himself from the scene, satisfied that the data had gone to hell with Jaynis when he noticed a small tractor beam stab into the Gila wreck from the Pilgrim. After a few minutes it pulled out an object the size of a human skull, and Gigaer considered this Amarrian may have odd habits of his own, before he looked closer. A Caldari datacore. No doubt it held the information that brought these three capsuleers together, and now Karo had it. Gigaer could not avoid a confrontation any longer.

Karo was about to head for the station when a voice he didn't recognize came in over his comms, transmitting from a Hurricane bearing down on him at full speed and targeting him with plenty of firepower. “My name is Gigaer, of the clan Prano. You have something that belongs to me.”

Last Son of Prano - Chapter 8.

Chapter 8.

D-Day minus 31.

He could spend the rest of his life reading, and some part of him admitted he would be content with that.

The room was octangular and very large. It was almost impossible to think that it was in the original plans for this station, as the shape was very irregular compared to the rest of the instillation's design. The floor was white with a vast array of tribal designs, which he learned were there to optimize the occupant's energy flow. The walls were covered in scrolls, each one it its own wooden slot in a vast grid of knowledge that surrounded the space. At the centre of the room was a low round table made of simple wood. There was no chair and the table was so low you had to sit cross-legged on the floor.

Gigaer spent much of his time in this room, absorbing scroll after ancient scroll. Many of his directed lessons were combined with either personal or ship combat. His skill with the kandjal was nearly unmatchable by anyone, and his abilities as a capsuleer were growing rapidly. Admittedly, deducing the finer points of philosophy while trying to keep your shields intact or your head attached was almost impossible at first, but the point was to help Gigaer think along multiple, simultaneous tangents. It was working, but he still enjoyed his time in the library.

There was very rarely anyone else who used the room, and distractions where nowhere to be found. Gigaer had spent entire days in deep study, and sometimes only stopped when someone came to see if he'd eaten or slept in the last 24 hours. Gigaer now wore robes similar to the ones the Elders adorned themselves with, though his were far less dramatic. A white loose-fitting robe and pants held together by a simple cloth belt. He thought it made him look like a cross between a monk and a martial artist. His kandjal displayed traditionally at his side, in a sheath hanging from his belt, decorated with the insignias of his clan, masters and status.

Gigaer's Planeswalker training was nearing completion, to the amazement of his tutors, who insisted that he'd accomplished in less then a year what should have taken five. After learning about the thousands of different spirits and deities, it was merely a matter of focused meditation. Knowledge unlocked all doors for Gigaer, and there was much to learn in this place. Unfortunately Gigaer's new found senses told him the serenity of this place would be gone soon. The storm that Vakor had mentioned in that meeting nearly a year ago, Gigaer could sense it on the horizon. A wall of churning black clouds that obscured his vision. The storm was unavoidable and it was almost upon them. A part of Gigaer feared it, though he could not understand why. He cleared his mind and returned to the scroll before him, sipping at some nearby tea.

The door, which lay directly ahead of Gigaer, opened silently and in shuffled one of Gigaer's attendants. Gigaer had several to see to his needs so he may stay focused on his studies. This one was a young girl who was very slight and usually silent. Gigaer could not remember a time where she looked him in the eyes, though he had done everything he could to make her feel at ease. She closed the door behind her and dropped to her knees, awaiting Gigaer's signal that she may enter and interrupt him. She floated silently over to his right side and whispered into Gigaer's ear a message, then retreated 2 feet from him, again on her knees, expecting instructions. Vakor wished to seem him immediately. Gigaer had not seen Vakor in months, probably due to escalating preparations for whatever the Elders were planning. Gigaer motioned for the attendant girl to put away the small mountain of scrolls he always seemed to create during these sessions. She nodded and began diligently as she always did.

Gigaer arose and shuffled out the door, where Rogi and Vani waited to escort him. They guarded him nearly every minute of every day, and Gigaer had to wonder when they ate or slept. Of course they refused to speak to him or look him in the eye, though unlike the others Gigaer thought these two genuinely feared him, as though he would cast a curse on them if slighted. Gigaer had become used to this prevailing attitude, though it was not easy. Unlike everywhere else in the galaxy, these people knew what the name Prano meant, and they feared and revered it. Gigaer did not acknowledge them or break stride, heading straight for the location Vakor knew he'd want to meet him.

Gigaer entered the room, expecting the same wooden table that had been there for months. Many of Gigaer's academic lessons took place in this room, and Gigaer had become comfortable here. It had become the centre of this station in his mind. This time, however, the table was gone and the shutters on the windows were closed. Gigaer entered and looked around. The lights were dimmed and the walls were covered in shadow. He focused on them and sensed out a familiar aura.

“Come out Eyes. I know you're there.”

Eyes stepped out, arms crossed and smiling in satisfaction. “I heard you could do things like that, but I had to see it for myself.”

Gigaer clasped Eyes' outstretched hand in greeting. Eyes had been teaching him the arts of stealth and subterfuge. Gigaer would never be as good as Eyes, but it was almost impossible to lie to Gigaer anymore. “What's going on here? I expected Vakor.” questioned Gigaer.

Eyes held the smile and led Gigaer to the windows. They opened to reveal a sight that caused a gasp to escape Gigaer's mouth. The ships were gone. The yards were deserted. Gigaer looked at Eyes for answers.

“Plans that were years in the making have been set into motion. Those ships were built for a purpose, and they have set out to perform their duty. Vakor and the rest of the Elders have gone with them to see it done.”

“See what done?”

“I can't tell you that. I'm here only to administer your final test. A mission of the utmost importance. Vakor needs you to retrieve an item and deliver it to his contact.”

Gigaer walked slowly away from the window, trying to calm his raging emotions and focus himself on the reality of his situation. He would probably never see this place or the Elders ever again, and while his training was more or less complete, he was unsure about his path from this point. Still, his master had given him a mission and his honour would not allow him to fail or decline. He looked back at Eyes, waiting for details.

“There's a Caldari spy that has learned of the Elders and their plans. He's a capsuleer with the Guristas and is looking to cash in on his information at a swap with a Amarr Navy Admiral. There's a Hurricane-class Battlecruiser still docked. All the details are in its databanks. If the Amarr get a hold of the Elder's plans, years of effort will be for nothing. It must be stopped.”

Gigaer could always read volumes from Eyes' silence. No words would need be exchanged. They hoped they would encounter each other again, but the future was becoming increasingly turbulent, and neither could say what tomorrow held. They respected each other, and with a quick shared nod, Gigaer ran out of the room towards the docks.

The halls were empty. Every person and piece of equipment had disappeared. The station was lifeless now when it was usually packed with activity and it sent a small chill down Gigaer's spine. This had been his home, after all. Passing the library he was in just recently, he saw the door open and the room bare. The Elders wouldn't have been so rash as to leave such precious items behind. Reaching the docks, Gigaer was shocked that the only two ships left were Gigaer's Hurricane and a Gallente Ares that must belong to Eyes. He ran into the pod bay and stepped into the capsuleer loading chamber. The automated systems here would get him into a pod and the pod into the ship.

Ten minutes later and Gigaer was through pre-flight and away. Gigaer didn't jump to warp right away, as he wanted to say goodbye to his home. He was almost half an AU away when he saw the Ares take off and jump to warp. Seconds later a series of massive explosions began to tear through the deep-space complex, finally coalescing into a mini-nova, vaporizing it. A huge shockwave raced out in all directions, and Gigaer barely had enough time to jump to warp before he was caught in it. His shields were drained to nil just by being too close to the wave.

Gigaer set course for the nearest stargate and began to review the details of his mission. Leaving another home behind him, he wondered if he'd ever find another.

Last Son of Prano - Chapter 7.

Chapter 7.

24 hours Later.

Gigaer was led by two guards out of the medbay. He'd spent the night receiving medical attention for the injuries he sustained when the Thukker attacked him. According to the old man, The Thukker kept constant watch on him since the first day he had entered the Wildlands. Their orders were to stay close, hidden and passive. The Elders wanted him to wander and survive battle after battle until he was at his limit, then if he continued his search, they were to disable him and take him in. That last battle had damaged his pod and resulted in moderate injury. The medics made sure he could hold under the strain of interrogation before they brought him before the Elder.

The guards, who had been with Gigaer constantly since his interrogation, led him down a long hallway filled with activity. There were plenty of people and equipment rushing around, though none made eye-contact with him, and they almost seemed to give him as wide a birth as possible. Even the two guards had not spoken a word to him, and seemed to be weary of him. The only thing he could get out of them were their names, Rogi and Vani. Two of the biggest Brutor Gigaer had even seen and they were armed not only with sidearms, but surprisingly also kandjals.

They led him into the same viewing room that he had been interrogated in, which set Gigaer on edge, until he noticed that instead of a chair in the middle of the room, there was a long meeting table with 12 chairs. It looked to be make of real wood and oufitted with holographic displays. Gigaer stood at one end, winged by his keepers, while on the opposite head of the table sat the Elder he'd met the day before. It occurred to Gigaer that the old man had never given his name. He mearly handed Gigaer off to the guards, who seemed to have been instructed beforehand to tend to him.

Rogi pulled the chair out while Vani motioned formally for Gigaer to sit. Gigaer had locked eyes with the old man as soon as he'd entered the room, and didn't break the connection as he sat, trying to put out an air of confidence to offset the Elder's aura of power and control. The Elder was dressed in robes similar to what he wore last time, and Gigaer noticed the ancient Matari symbols that adorned it. Nobody else he saw wore anything like it, so they must be specific to his status. Gigaer noticed some of the people he passed in the halls wore Thukker markings, proving to him the Elders were working with the Thukker. The old man gave the guards leave and rose from his seat.

At the centre of the table sat a bottle of mead on a silver platter, along with several small crystal glasses. Smiling, the old man uncorked the bottle and poured two glasses, then walked over to Gigaer and handed him one, before returning to his seat. The old man raised his glass in a toast, but said nothing. Gigaer returned the gesture as they both drank, never breaking eye-contact. The old man set his glass down and pressed a button on the small holographic control pad to his side. The door behind the old man opened and the man Gigaer knew only as Eyes entered. Eyes shot Gigaer a smile and a reverse-nod while heading straight for the mead, poured himself a glass and took a seat at the right hand of the old man.

“OK. Let me see if I can guess what's going on here.” Gigaer said as he calmly rose from his seat and moved towards the window, breaking eyes with the old man for the first time, and now looking out over the shipyards. “You learned about me and about my Prano legacy, and decided to test me. The first test was mental. I had to deduce that Eyes was not leading me into a trap on little-to-no solid information. The second test was physical. I had to survive in the Wildlands and push my limits to resist against the local pirates. The third test was spiritual. I had to show you that I could tap into my so-called powers and sense the greater reality.” Gigaer turned back towards the table and casually poured himself another drink, raising it slightly towards the old man and Eyes before drinking the whole glass in one gulp. “So we inevitably come to the part of the story where the reason behind the tests is revealed, and believe me when I say I'm all ears.” Gigaer let the smallest amount of frustration escape his voice, letting his keepers know he was ready to be an ungracious guest if answers were not forthcoming.

“I'll tell you anything you want to know, and if you wish to leave after hearing us out we'll give you a ship and escort out of the Wildlands.” said the old man.

“First, Who are you?”

“My name is Vakor. I am an Elder of the Minmatar tribes. My associate here, Eyes, is an agent of mine and acts on my behalf.” the old man said calmly, acting as if this were a gathering of friends.

“Why did you bring me here?”

Vakor took a deep breath before answering. “ The Prano legacy has been a key part of Matari lore since the first records of our people. Your line played a vital role in shaping the thoughts and values of our civilization. The Amarr took that away from us, forcing we Elders to flee and our people to lose our way of life. The Prano name slipped away into the night, along with much of our heritage. While your clan was forced to submit like many others, we became keepers of the ancient knowledge that sustained us as a people. Now the last son of Prano has risen from the ashes of enslavement. You've proven you have the gift. A connection to the spirits and entities of our world and others. A link that surpasses all others. You are the last true Planswalker, yet you are alone. Sent out into the void of space with little training or knowledge of your birthright. We are dedicated to revitalizing true Matari culture, and we therefore had a duty to seek you out and prepare you for the duty you carry in your blood.”

Gigaer took a few seconds to absorb Vakor's words. It did gel with what little he'd managed to learn about his clan so far, but after wandering with no direction for so long, to suddenly be presented with all the answers was a little shocking. Still, Gigaer had to take this one step at a time. “So what do you propose? You'll give me the information in exchange for what? That I be your pawn in whatever bloody affair you're planning? And don't tell me you're not planning something big. All those ships you're building out there are not for show.”

Vakor rose from his seat and moved towards the window, smiling as he took in the site of hundreds of ships being built. “There is a storm coming. The Republic thinks it's free and honourable. In reality they've become stagnant and corrupt. The Amarr still enslave our people and our vaunted Republic fleet does nothing but putter around in circles. A storm comes. A storm furious enough to burn away the darkness on the path our people walk. When it comes we must all be ready to meet the call of destiny that rings out from our blood.” Vakor turned to Gigaer and placed his hands on his shoulders. For some reason this didn't put Gigaer on guard. There was an undeniable ringing of truth to Vakor's words. “We will train you as your family would have trained you, and then you will go and find your path. When you are ready and the time is right, you will know what to do.”

The look in Vakor's eyes reminded Gigaer of the look in his mother's eyes when she recorded her message to the child she would never know, and the look in his father's eyes when they decided that Gigaer should become a capsuleer. Eyes rose from his seat and walked over to the two by the window. He held a wooden case and handed it to Vakor, who opened it and revealed Gigaer's kandjal. It had been repaired and cleaned to a flawless state. Gigaer took his kandjal, thankful to be reunited with what he often thought was the other piece of himself. “The foremost masters of the art of the kandjal will be training you as part of your studies.” said Vakor. “We will be building you from the ground up. Strategy, tactics, politics, philosophy, body, mind and soul. You will represent the best of what it means to be Minmatar, if – by some miracle - you survive.”

Gigaer turned and walked slowly around to the other side of the table, taking in the moment. He turned to Vakor and Eyes and opened up with his kandjal, sending it into a masterful whistling fury, extending and retracting it over and over, performing his favorite combinations and forms. His kandjal was in top form and so was he, and he had no doubt he would have to be even better to make it out of this place alive. The thought greatly excited him. Finishing his demonstration and bowing before the Elder as a pupil to his master, Gigaer spoke once more with the grin of a adrenaline junkie.

“I just have one last question. When do we begin?”

Last Son of Prano - Chapter 6.

Chapter 6.

3 Days Later.

Gigaer never really thought about the afterlife. Different groups had different ideas, and they all seemed equally plausible, but when you spend so much time with the metaphysical aspects of one reality, you tend to not want to deal with others. One thing that Gigaer didn't expect was the pain. Being dead was surprisingly painful, and that blinding light shining in his face was annoying.

Gigaer's eyes rolled grudgingly to the front, straining against the fog in his mind to focus back on reality. There was a single bright light blasting in his face, and his head was slacked limply backwards. Gigaer used the pain screaming from every part of his body, moving his head forward and taking slow stock of his situation. Firstly, he was definitely alive. His head was pounding, which meant he probably had a minor concussion, and the rest of his body was aching, which meant the rest of him was equally pummeled. There was an odd numbness to the pain, as if it where echoing down a long corridor.

As he tried to move sharp pangs called out from his right bicep, his wrists and ankles. Slowly turning his head and bringing his eyes back into focus, he noticed not only were his hands and feet bound with metal handcuffs, and an I.V. was embedded in his arm, feeding a sinister-looking black liquid straight into his veins from a nearby stand. The light came from overhead, so bright that he could not identify the source. He was strapped to a simple metal chair. Beyond his cone of light was nothingness. An empty black void that he could not see through no matter how focused his gaze.

Calling upon his simple mental and breathing exercises, Gigaer brought the rest of himself back into the here and now. He fought against what he could only assume was an anesthetic feeding into his arm, but its hold was powerful and the fog was still thick.

“We see you have learned a thing or two about the power of your will. That drug would keep an Amarr xenophobe sedated in a room full of Matari politicians.” Said a booming voice from the darkness. It seemed to come from every direction and was heavily distorted. It was low and godlike, booming through his body and making his head pound. Gigaer felt nausea creep from his bowels but managed to speak.

“Who are you? Where am I”

“Questions. The beginning of wisdom.” The voice chuckled softly. “ Understand you are but a baby among a pack of wolves. We sniff at you because we are curious, but do not try our patience. We will ask questions and you will answer them.”

Gigaer tried not to show weakness, but the drug made that impossible. “I don't understand. Who are you?” A sharp and explosive pain raked through his body, causing him to let out a small scream in surprise. The surge only lasted a second, and it was unlike anything he'd ever experienced. It was as if all if his body's pain receptors were switched on for a moment, then turned off. A blinding, nameless pain that he didn't care to experience again. However his captors did it, Gigaer did not wish to provoke that action again.

“ WE will ask, and you will answer. Now, what is your name?" Boomed the voice, commanding Gigaer to obey. There was no malevolence in the voice as far as Gigaer could tell. Whoever it was took no pleasure in causing pain.

“My name is Gigaer.”

“What is your clan?”

That one question spoke volumes to Gigaer. He came into the Wildlands because someone knew more about his legacy than he did. Whoever that was hired Eyes to track him down and send him into nullsec, screaming a code over and over into the void, attracting nothing but trouble. Pirates didn't take capsuleers prisoner, and neither did slavers. Too much trouble. The pieces of memory began to drag back into place. The last attack was by the Thukker tribe, and the Thukker were not known for operating in the Wildlands. Every attack prior to that was by the Angel Cartel. Were his captors Thukker? Were the Thukker the ones who hired Eyes to bring Gigaer into the Wildlands? His gut told him this interrogation was not what it seemed. “Prano.”

“No deception?”

“No point. If what your agent said it true, you know more about me then I do.” Gigaer said with as much confidence as he could muster. Even the captive could learn about his captors if he was clever and observant. “You wanted me here, so here I am.” Another wave of agony hit him, this time lasting a little longer. The drug feeding into him amazingly didn't numb the pain at all and he hid it as well as he could, only letting out a small grunt. Gigaer's head felt like it was about to explode, and his heart was racing. He figured another jolt like that could cause an aneurysm.

“Your mind is quick, and so is your mouth. We may just be Thukker pirates, and if we are, then you're no use to us. So, why are you still alive?”

Gigaer had nothing to go on. Who would know about him? He thought about it for days with no clue, and now if he didn't answer the question right, he would probably die. Panic poked at the edges of his mind and his body was past the breaking point. The only thing he could think about was the image of his mother, and the odd expression on her face that Gigaer could never identify... until now.

Trust. She trusted her son to do what needed to be done. His father trusted him to find his way, and Eyes and his benefactors trusted him to survive. Now, Gigaer had to trust himself. He called upon all his training and exercises, reaching past his physical self and out into the darkness.

“Because you're not Thukker. Because like me you're something the world has either forgotten about or believes is dead and gone.”

The I.V. beeped and the flow of drugs changed from black to white and the fog in Gigaer's head quickly began to diminish. The blinding light above him calmed and other soothing lights came on in the room, fully illuminating what looked like a small and empty viewing room. Shutters on the wall opened, revealing space, and a vast shipyard. In front of him a metal door slid open and an ancient Matari man walked in, wearing robes that could almost be called regal. The old man walked up to Gigaer and waved his hand through the air, signaling to a wall-mounted camera Gigaer had not noticed before. The restraints and I.V. disengaged and Gigaer stood slowly to meet the old man's gaze. “You're not Thukker. You are The Elders.”

A grin formed on the old man's face that could almost be called sinister.

Last Son of Prano - Chapter 5.

Chapter 5.

10 Days Later.

*PERSONAL LOG*

Why in all the levels of hell did I believe him? He offered no credentials, no proof, no reason to his story. All he had was some slick words and a datacore.

The datacore. Took me 40 hours to sneak into the Great Wildlands with some semblance of safety. Once I was fairly certain I wasn't followed, I plugged it into my comms system as Eyes instructed. Then I sat, stared, scanned and tried not to make too tempting a target of myself. I moved as little as possible and only jumped to another system when I was either evading pirates or bored out of my skull. I've come to rely partly on meditation to keep myself focused, but there's no oppertunity to meditate out here. There's barely time to sleep.

I've done what I could to stay out of the crosshairs, but in the last nine days I've been in over 20 small battles, mostly with the Angel Cartel. Surviving is enough for most because they have a destination, but roaming aimlessly in this gods-forsaken part of the galaxy is asking to die a death of a thousand cuts. Secondary systems started to become a problem 5 days ago, primaries more recently. It's been all I can do to keep nav and comms up. Ammo reserves are pretty dry as well.

Yesterday I noticed the pod-gel was starting to feel odd. Gritty. I ran a check on the life-support systems, half-convinced it was my imagination getting the better of me. Turned out the nanos keeping the synthetic amniotic fluid running properly were starting to malfunction due to extended use. No amount of recirculation, cleaning and filtering can keep this stuff clean forever. It has to be replaced at dock. I've heard of some capsuleers who make a living staying in a pod juiced out of their heads for weeks straight have extended supplies of gel and nanos to keep them going, but I'm not one of them. At this point, the low oxygen and floating in stale filth is probably taking time off my life expectancy. I have food– if that's what you want to call the nutrition drip capsuleers subside on – for a few more days.

I'd hate to think about what I'd be dealing with if I had a crew. Some may say a crew of semi-sentient drones a needless expense, but I prefer to be alone in the void. Living beings don't seem to put out the same spiritual signals as non-sentient machines do. From mecha it's a sort of static that's easy to tune out. Maybe there is something to this Planeswalker thing, this Prano legacy.

I tried to analyze the signal this datacore has been pumping out. If this carrier wave was ever in use it's been so long ago that there's no traffic on it now. I can't even make heads or tails out of the message. It's either the deepest encryption I've ever come across... or it's just noise meant to attract pirates to an easy target.

I could go back right now. I could head back to Hakeri, track that motherless dog down and take my compensation for all this wasted time out of his hide. I could, so why don't I? Well, what if he's right? He was right about me. He was right about me running around in circles, not having a clue or a plan or even a general direction. I've looked high and low as discreetly as I could, but the only things I have been able to turn up on my heritage is dust and trouble. This is my first real clue, and it could very well be the only one I'm going to get. So yeah, I need to risk my life floating here scanning and broadcasting as loud as I can and hope to gods whatever finds me next are not more pirates.

DAMNIT! Spoke too soon. More Angels. No, wait, Thukkers? I didn't know they operated here. Damn there's a lot of them. I count six Rifters, three Ruptures... and a Tempest! Even in perfect shape I wouldn't stand a chance. Opening comms channel. Maybe I can... Huh? They're jamming my comms, along with targeting and nav. I'm completely paralyzed! With the comms jammed at this level I don't even think my clone will be able to activate back in Empire space!

Mother, father, my people. I've failed...

*LOG RECORDING TERMINATED. CRITICAL SYSTEM ERROR.*

Last Son of Prano - Chapter 4.

Chapter 4.

1 year ago.

Gigaer exited the docking area and stepped onto the expansive promenade of Hakeri VII station. All around him were small shops where peddlers bought and sold goods and services in a desperate effort to eek out a living. Shopkeeps yelled at passer's by, announcing that within their modest establishments were the best products at the best price. Food, clothing, baubles and services of every kind lined the expansive maze. Gigaer frequented this place. Watching people live and laugh and swoon were one his simple pleasures. To him it kept him connected. It was far too easy for a capsuleer to detach from the realities beyond money and combat.

Past the more active paths was a simple pub he chose to frequent whenever in the region. The Serpent's Lounge. There was one on many stations that sported large Minmatar populaces. It wasen't exclusive, but if you weren't Matari then you probably avoided it. Rumor had it that many who chose to live on the darker sides on the law frequented these establishments, which made for a solid clientbase and a foreboding reputation. Gigaer entered and reverse-nodded the bouncer. Gigaer had been doing business with a local tribal agent for a few months now and the staff had come to recognize him. Sitting at the bar, Gigaer saw that the barkeep was already preparing his usual lunch order, so he took out his datapad and accessed information on the status of his Rupture (which was relatively new but took a few hits in a small scrap with a pirate convoy this morning), latest news from across the galaxy, his financials, messages and possible jobs he could take next.

His burger and quafe arrived after a few minutes. Gigaer placed the pad beside his plate and took a swig of his drink while still looking at his balances, trying to decide if it was a good idea to upgrade a few tertiery systems, when the pad prompted him to view a new message that had just come in. Opening his inbox, Gigaer noticed the sender's name was restricted and the subject was “From a friend...”. He wondered if it was just a piece of spam that got through his filter until he opened it up.

To whoever you think you are,

I know who you are, who you REALLY are. I've been watching you for some time and I've realized you need what I have. Meet me in the back alley after you have finished your meal.

Regards,
Ambiguous.

Gigaer turned quickly towards the door, and swore he saw someone leave and turn towards the alley. Normally he would have ran after the stranger, but the message suggested he eat first, and the prices in these places were a little high to just walk away from. It was also rare for someone to be poisoned in the Lounge (it being the social equivilant to sacred ground), so he ate and returned to his other reading, confident the stranger would wait.

Half an hour later (It was a big burger and Gigaer hated eating fast) Gigaer stood at the entrance to a dead-end alley behind the lounge. Gigaer wore a black leather trenchcoat that covered most of his body, black cargo pants with a gear-laden belt and black combat boots. The coat covered most of his torso, but split open at the collarbone and belt. He also had a few accessories, including a gallente handgun and his Kandjal. The stranger stood at the end on the alley, wearing non-descript clothes and reading the contents of an energybar he was already eating, looking none-too-please with what he had just injested. He was Matari, but Gigaer couldn't really spot anything of interest about his face or appearance. Noticing Gigaer walking towards him, he threw the bar over his shoulder and tried to wipe the caramel-like substance on his shirt. They stood a few feet away from each other, sizing each other up for a few seconds before the stranger smiled and reached into his back pocket. Gigaer assumed he was reaching for a weapon and whipped out his kandjal. Quickly extending it, the bladed tip came to within millimetres of the stranger's throat.

“Name, or your head. I'll have one or the other right now. Your choice which one.” Gigaer said directly. The stranger held his smile but retracted his hand from whatever he was about to grab.

“If you're going to kill me, you should at least tell me your name.” said the stranger wryly.

Gigaer hesitated for a half-second. Everything up to this point hinted to this man knowing about Gigaer's true bloodline. Perhaps this man was too dangerous to leave alive, but Gigaer's quest was at a standstill because of a complete lack of information. The contents of the old Amarr datacore were mostly musings on his lineage and destiny, but few specifics were to be found. A test was in order. Best to let the stranger show his hand first before Gigaer comitted to anything. “Gigaer, of the house Kaliso.”

The stranger began to laugh a little. “Amusing. We both surround ourselves with illusions to protect ourselves. The difference is I know who you really are, while you don't even know who you really are.” The words struck Gigaer slightly harder then he thought they would have. The Kandjal retracted and he placed it slowly back in its sheath. The stranger's hand went again to his back pocket. He slowly retrieved a Minmatar datacore. “I'm known as Eyes. I deal mostly in information. I see everything there is to see. I see you. I've watched you putter around, doing jobs for various organizations, not really having any real direction or cause. Sure, you'll hunt down pirates and slavers and think you're saving lives. You post on chatrooms and think you're saving souls. You know you're really doing neither but you don't know what else to do. I was hired to track you down, and if it looked like you were directionless give you this.”

Gigaer cautiously took the datacore and took stock of it. “And what exactly is this?”

Eyes took stock of Gigaer. “Direction.” Gigaer shot him an angry glance, as he was in no mood to be toyed with. Eyes shot his hands up in resignation. “Hey, that's all I was told when I asked. Your instructions are simple. Fly deep into the Great Wildlands and interface the datacore with your comms system. It's programmed to send an automated and heavily encrypted message on a very specific bandwidth.”

Gigaer humphed, “Sounds like suicide to me.”

Eyes nodded, “Agreed, but I was payed very well to give this to you, and before you even ask, no, I can't tell you who I'm working for. If you want my advice, and this is just personal opinion, you'd be wise to do what these people want you to. They know things about you that you won't be able to learn anywhere else.”

Gigaer looked into Eyes' eyes. Gigaer thought of himself as a good judge of character and has been able to sniff out deception in the past. As best he could figure, Eyes was telling the truth, and there was really nothing left Eyes could tell him. Gigaer nodded and walked with datacore in hand towards to docks.

My life in Eve - Part 5

I was actually playing two games at once last night. On EVE I was using the almost non-existent cargo space in my Hurricane to move my assets 11 systems over through high-sec. I was fairly certain I would not get into any trouble as the lowest system on the route was .7, so I set my autopilot and glanced back at it every few minutes to see when it was time to dock. By the time I have to move again I'll have an industrial to do it with.

The other game I enjoyed last night was Penny Arcade Adventures ep.2, and when I say enjoyed I mean ENJOYED. It premiered last night on every system and OS at a great price (about $15), and the writing alone is worth it. If you haven't played the first episode you can pick it up for its reduced price. I won't rant about it much about it (as I already have for ep.1 in a previous post) but I will say significant improvements have been made. Anywhoo, I spent way too much time playing it and I got to bed far too late. Sorta worth the lost sleep though...

I've got far too much going on right now to think clearly enough to write chapter 10 of my story, so I won't even bother until the early to mid November. I don't want to avoid it, but I don't want to create an inferior product because I'm not 110% focused. I hope the few fans I have will allow me this indulgence, of which I apologize for. I will still be posting a new chapter here and on the EVE-O forums every week, so the majority of you won't even notice a thing.

In all the commotion, I forgot to confirm the photogapher for the Halloween event this year. Pierre is a semi-professional photographer who's main passion seems to be cosplayers. Last year he agreed to shoot the event for the promise of pizza, and there was indeed 'za to be had by all. Transportation is an issue for him, so I hope he can make it. I'll have to call him later.

More on the event tomorrow.

Ja.

Last Son of Prano - Chapter 3.

Chapter 3.

3 Days Later.

The elevator that connected the rooftop library to the rest of the Frontenac estate led directly to a large hallway that connected to the other living spaces like the dining room, bedrooms and the like. It was a long but wide hall with a homey elegance. Hardwood floors, delicate trim and colours, and a few pieces of artwork on display. Marcus Frontenac was walking in the direction of the elevator door, smoking a pipe and entrenched in the morning's news displayed on a flexy (a thin, flexible datapad capable of wireless hi-speed communication and holographics) when the elevator door hissed open.

Gigaer walked slowly through the doorway, staring at the datacore in his hand and lost in thought. Marcus quickly laid the flexy and pipe on a small sidetable and rushed to his son, catching Gigaer just in time. Marcus laid him slowly on the floor as he took stock of the most important person in the world to him. Gigaer's eyes were extremely bloodshot and a glaze of cold sweat covered his skin. Had he tried to induce a trance of some sort? Marcus tried to snap his son out of it, but the only thing Gigaer could do is whisper the word “Planeswalker.” before he completely lost consciousness. Marcus carried Gigaer to his room and placed him in his bed.

Gigaer awoke dazed and confused. He sat up slowly to keep his head from spinning any more than it already was. As his vision cleared he saw his father sitting beside his bed, reading. “So that explains how I got to my room.” Gigaer said, rubbing the back of his neck to try and relieve the tension.

“You just managed to get out of the elevator. You're lucky I was there to catch you or else your nose would have bled all over the hardwood.” Marcus said with his usually dry humour. “How are you feeling?”

“Dazed and drained. I could use a good meal and a shower.” Gigaer said, straining to return a smile. He sensed his father was full of questions but felt it better not to ask. Gigaer tried to piece together his fuzzy memory of the last three days. “The only thing on the datacore was a vid. It was of an older Matari woman covered in soot and blood. She spoke in a Brutor dialect and said she was my mother. She said I was a miracle from the gods and I was our race's only hope to return us to harmony with the spirits and gods. She called me Planeswalker. She called be son. Then she died.”

Gigaer arose slowly from the bed and began to regain his equilibrium by pacing and letting the stream of thought pour out of him. “I watched the vid so many times that I lost count. Finally when every frame was burned into my memory I began looking for information on this Plainwalker thing, but there wasn't any.” Marcus went over to Gigaer's dresser and prepared an outfit for him while the rant continued. “I tried every mental and consciousness exercise I know. Nothing. I turned the library inside-out looking for clues. Nothing. I ran every net search I could think of. Nothing, nada, zip. I've studied Matari mysticism for years, but I've never heard of this Planeswalker thing. What could it be? What am I and what am I supposed to do?”

“I'll tell you what you're supposed to do.” Marcus said moving towards the door. “You're supposed to shower, dress, eat until you can't eat anymore, then meet me on the rooftop.” Marcus opened the door and passed through it, saying “I'll be waiting for you there when you're ready.” before closing the door behind him.

Gigaer stumbled into the adjoining bathroom, stripping his clothes and racking his brain with every step. The shower felt wonderful and helped to clear his head. Once he was done, he stretched for a bit to get the blood flowing and dressed himself in the clothes his father set out, which happened to be a comfortable tracksuit he used for working out. He then made his way to the kitchen, where Chef (that was actually his name due to an odd series of events involving pirate leaders and witness protection programs) had a full meal of his favorites already prepared. Gigaer gorged on food and drink at a frantic pace for a full hour before he could stomach no more.

It was sunset by the time Gigaer stepped out of the library doors leading to the rooftop garden. Marcus was over by the western-most edge staring at the play of hues in the sky from a bench. Gigaer sat beside him and joined in the spectral appreciation.

“I've spoken to an old colleague on Pator. A captain in the Republic Fleet who owes me a favor. He says he'd be happy to sponsor you for the Republic Military School for capsuleers. A captain's sponsorship will get you in, and I'm sure you'll be able to graduate with honours. I've transferred enough ISK into your accounts for anything you could possibly need. You leave tonight.” Gigaer looked at his father with confusion, but Marcus didn't need to see the look to know he needed to explain his plan. “To find the answers you seek, you'll need freedom and power, while still being able to operate without the notice of those who would want you dead. For that, you'll need to be a capsuleer. The captain will arrange a new identity for you and the funds are being laundered enough to not attract any attention. As my son, you're too visible, but as a capsuleer you can go wherever and do whatever you need to in order to find your destiny.”

Gigaer wanted to argue - since it meant giving up the life he knew forever - but he knew his father was right. Gigaer even contemplated it as a next move before joining his father on the roof. Marcus accompanied the son he would never see again to the lobby, where some of the living staff, the ones that have known Gigaer since he was a newborn, gathered to say their quick goodbyes. As far as anyone but Marcus, Gigaer and the distant Matari captain knew, Gigaer was leaving on a nice vacation to a high-end sunny beach on some resort planet only the rich and famous frequent. The secretly empty personal shuttle to that resort would later explode in a tragic “freak accident”, erasing Gigaer Frontenac from people's view, so Gigaer could in actuality assume a different family name and search for the spiritual future of the Minmatar race. Father and son embraced one last time. It was quick and seemingly lacking in emotion, as to support the illusions at play, but Gigaer knew there was nothing that truly needed to be said.

A Gallente datacore was in Gigaer's pack. On it was all the information he would need to assume his new life, as well as a vid Marcus made for him. A true goodbye from a proud guardian for his beloved son. Seeing how his mother had already made him a vid message explaining his future, it only seemed fitting that his father would do the same explaining how much his past would miss him.

Last Son of Prano - Chapter 2.

Chapter 2.

5 years ago.

The crisp morning air still held the scent of dew as staccato pangs of clashing blades rang out from atop one of the larger skyscrapers on this well-to-do Gallente planet.

The enormous rooftop terrace was a masterwork of scenic walkways and zen gardening. A crystal dome, which housed a wondrous library, dominated the centre of the space. The terrace, and the entire building, was home and headquarters to Mr. Marcus Frontenac, a rare materials mining mogul who employed elite capsuleers to mine the most valuable ores and minerals from the most dangerous edges of space. 20 years ago one of his surveyors, an old man who was one of Frontenac's first employees and looking for a pension to retire with, ran across an Amarr escape pod while heading back from a fairly profitable venture into nullsec. Inside lay a child, barely alive and covered in blood and grease. This worked all the better for the old surveyor, as this child's poor condition would pull at his old boss' heartstrings and allow for a better bargain.

Frontenac took the boy in as his own, and after viewing the recording made by his mother found in the pod, understood the immense responsibility he had to raise the boy to be more then the son of a businessman. For 20 years the boy had the best tutors and trainers, went to the best schools and was constantly pushed beyond his boundaries. One of the ways Gigaer and Frontenac bonded as father and son was though study of the methods of combat. Strategy and politics were things he learned in school, but this pair found common ground on the edge of a blade.

They were called kandjals. Frontenac learned of them on a vacation to a Pator hunting resort. A kandjal was an arm-length staff which was mostly straight expect for a 30 degree curve at one end. The other end held a diamond-shaped blade usually made of a metal found only in the most inhospitable areas of Pator. It had a mirror finish and had the strange characteristic to vibrate acoustically when in motion. The faster it traveled the louder and higher pitched it sang. Singing steel was rare and only used for kandjals. The staff itself also had a trick. By activating a series of springs inside the hollow staff, it could extend to quarterstaff length with explosive force, and retract just as quickly and easily. The kandjal was a traditional weapon to the Matari tribes and masters of their use were very well respected even today. Frontenac had the opportunity to train with a great master and he took great pride in passing on his skills to his son.

Marcus and Gigaer spun wildly with their kandjals in hand, both in evasion and looking for an opening in their opponent's defenses. Gigaer had never bested his father before. The man who knew more about the arts of war, peace, life, love and commerce was elderly to be sure, but an unstoppable force when he chose to be. Twin whirlwinds danced around each other, testing each other, weapons humming and whistling through the air until meeting in rapid clanging flurries. Both warriors extending and retracting their staffs, angling in new directions, anything to throw their opponent off his game long enough to win. They spared every morning, but it had never gone on this long. The sun was high in the sky now and both men were becoming winded.

Today was different for Gigaer. He was at the top of his game, and he was beginning to see holes in his father's technique. He's seen them before but they always ended up being traps. If Gigaer ever got overly-cautious about those holes, his father scolded him for playing it safe and not trusting himself. Today the holes seemed different somehow. Was his father trying something new to tease him or were his instincts starting to take over? Gigaer decided to stop fighting it and let his training and instincts take over. Marcus spun wildly and brought his blade down from high, but instead of blocking it forcefully, Gigaer wasn't there at all. At the instant Marcus committed to the attack, he was unaware that Gigaer's stance had changed. Gigaer's timing was perfect. Before Marcus could recover, he could hear Gigaer's blade humming softly behind his neck, the point of it tickling the skin. For the first time, Gigaer had beaten his father in a contest of skill.

Gigaer was ecstatic, but didn't let it show as they bowed to each other in respect and retreated into the library for relaxation and refreshment. The library held many books, but no shelf stood high enough or close enough together to make the room seem cramped or block the awesome vista of the cityscape and sky made visible by the crystal dome. Gigaer and his father sat at the large round table at the centre of the library. The table was covered with open books and other documents of varied type. Some were for study, others were related to Frontenac Mining Corp. and consisted mostly of timetables and personnel reports. Gigaer rarely viewed those reports, as his father didn't seem to want Gigaer to take too much interest in his business. A quick towel-off and a drink was all they needed to relax.

"I have nothing left to teach you, son. The last thing I still had on you was my kandjal skills, and now you've proven that you're my better." Said an exhausted Marcus.

"You're still wiser then I, father. Wisdom comes with experience and you'll always have a head start on that." Gigaer said jokingly.

"I'm serious. There's nothing left of real value for me to teach you. Nothing that will help you find your destiny." Marcus suddenly got serious. Almost solemn.

"I don't understand. You've always told me one makes his own destiny and only the weak leave it to others or chance." Gigaer was beginning to become confused as he nibbled on a sandwich.

"That's true, but you have a path that you must walk. A path I've trained you for since you first came into my life. A path I've kept hidden from you until you were ready... until today." Marcus looked deeply into his son's eyes. Marcus had never created the illusion that he was Gigaer's biological father. Gigaer's Matari heritage was obvious. Gigaer had wondered how he ended up in that Amarr escape pod, but his life had been so full of other tasks that he never found the time or opportunity to think about it. Marcus arose and walked over to the historical section. There he found a book and brought it back to the table, laying it in front of Gigaer. The title printed on the hardcover was "Gears of Destiny: The Role of Myth and Lore in Empires." and the more Gigaer studied the book's coverings, the more he realized this was no book at all. In fact, it was a small, locked safe make to uncannily resemble a book. The back was a disguised pad that read one's DNA and biometrics, which would unlock the safe.

Once Marcus realized Gigaer had made the discovery, he took the book from Gigaer's hands, placed it on the table face down and placed his palm on the reader. a series of beeps told the two that the reader was working, and after few seconds it let out a clear tone signaling the user had been identified, accepted, and the lock had been opened. Flipping the book back to the face up position and opening it as it were a normal book, Gigaer took notice of the internal construction. It was very sturdy. The entire building could have come down on it and it would have survived. Inside was only an old Amarrian datacore that seemed to be covered in dry blood. Marcus carefully picked up the core and handed it to Gigaer.

"Tell me what you think." Marcus said softly, noticing that Gigaer was already intensely studying the object and not wanting to break his concentration. Gigaer noticed that the core had been damaged but should still be readable, and the bloodstains were actually calligraphy in ancient Matarese. Gigaer focused on the writing as he recalled his learnings of the language. His lips moved silently as he tried to decode what was written. Once he had it, his eyes widened and turned to his father.

"Would you care to explain why is my name written in blood on and old datacore that you've kept hidden from me?" Gigaer's voice betrayed his growing sense of frustration. It's not that he didn't like mysteries, but he got the sense that his entire life was about to be thrown into a whirlwind.

"This was the only thing other then you we found in that Amarr escape pod. On it there's a recording of your biological mother. I've only watched it once. What I learned from that vid has helped me to push you as hard as I could. I knew you'd need to be the best you could be if you were to survive the journey ahead."

Gigaer looked again at the datacore. He didn't understand anything that was going on. Marcus Frontenac smiled and pointed him to the main work station located at the north end of the library. There Gigaer could view the recording on the datacore and access all the information he needed to in order to fill in some of the blanks. Gigaer stood and walked towards the station, Marcus patting his son on the shoulder in reassurance as he passed him. Marcus walked over to the south side of the library, where he entered the elevator and left his son alone.

Nobody saw Gigaer again until three days later.

Last Son of Prano - Chapter 1.

This is the first chapter of my Eve Online fanfiction, featuring my primary. As of now 8 chapters have been written, 7 posted, and another 2 planned. Once this story is done I'll be writing one about my alt, then after that I'll do a story with both of them. Feedback is definitely encouraged. ENJOY!

Part 1.

25 years ago.

Space rushed by the hull of the Apocalypse-class battleship at it traveled through the edges of Amarr space. The ship, its pilot and crew all belonged to an ancient Amarrian with ties to many in power, and and such he commanded power and wealth purely through proxy and cunning.

The Amarrian, named Augustius, prided himself on many things, including the large number of Minmatar slaves under his "care". While he allowed them more freedoms then many of his equals would deem appropriate, he found himself fascinated by how the barbarians chose to live, even while being given the chance to live as civilized as the Amarr do. The battleship was transporting a few families of his slaves to a new estate of his, deep within the empire on a moon where the wildlife was lush and he urged to conquer it. Augustius had, in fact, bought the entire moon for this thrill of his.

Deep within the dark inner cavities the ship where the golden sheen was replaced by carbon, soot and sulfer, a small miracle was taking place. What was left of the Prano clan, a Brutor family whose powerful mysticism and honoured heritage found its place in even the earliest stories of Matar, was adding another to their numbers. The matriarch of the Prano clan had always been infertile, and many thought this was the death knell of the bloodline, yet now they were witness to the culmination of a virgin birth.

The matriarch would not survive, for she bled far too much. The medical facilities on-board might have been able to save her, but those were not at the disposal of livestock. She bore a strong, young boy who cried out at the top of his lungs. The midwife examined the boy for defects and found only one. A birthmark on his right shoulder blade that looked uncannily like a raptor's wing. The midwife raised the screaming baby up for all in the small and dirty cabin to see, and soon it was clear to all. Through generations those of Prano blood that bore this mark went into the annals of history as great visionaries and spiritual leaders for all Matari. This baby was a gift from the gods.

The matriarch gave her last commands and she gasped for air and chocked on her blood. Given Augustius' interest in Matari history and the greed that drove him to acquire all he could, he would never let the baby go, especially after he learned of the birthmark and its secrets. Their purpose was clear.

24 hours later, in unison, every Minmatar on that ship attacked their Amarr keepers. The ship was thrown into chaos and the pilot dropped out of warp near a cluster of jump gates for fear they might damage the control systems and send the ship spiraling into another. All this was a distraction, as the midwife and a small group of the late matriarch's disciples darted for the escape pods. After incapacitating two inept Amarr guards, the baby was placed in a pod programmed for a randomized path out of Amarr space and into the Gallente Federation, where he would be put into a foster care system. Some in the group wanted the baby to be sent to the Republic, but it was deemed far too dangerous. The baby slept though the entire ordeal, which made the midwife laugh a little under her panting breaths as she ran through the corridors, hold the baby close. A vid-recording that the matriarch made in her last minutes for the baby, explaining who he is and who his people need him to become was placed in the pod as well. Upon the small datacore's casing, written in the matriarch's blood by her were the words, "For Gigaer" in Matarese.

The pod launched and warped safely through a gate, but not before the Apocalypse's reactor was breached by the Matari captives, ripping the ship apart.

Days later, a passing Gallente miner would run across the pod, nearly out of power and air. The baby inside was barely alive. The miner worked for a rich business mogul who always wanted a son, but whose wife bore him nothing but girls. Maybe giving this baby to him would finally net him that promotion...