A Girl I Once Knew Making my way through the dank and dimly lit streets to the meeting point I find myself again considering the way things have gone. Calypso, once a bright and rich planet full of potential and dreams, now seems to have fallen under a permanent shadow of darkness. In days gone by I used to be a hunter, a proud upstanding member of a successful society and a recognised and respected member of community. To say I have fallen so far though would hold little contrast to the background of the world around me today. Back then the days seemed permanently bathed with bright sunshine and warmth. Hunts were glorious team affairs, honesty abundant and this place… heh this place we laughingly still call “Port” Atlantis was a center of commerce, a bustle of activity and a jumping off point for all the orange flight-suit clad new arrivals determined to cut their teeth on this ripe and promising new world. It’s not that Calypso has been abandoned by the Federal Empire’s colonisation plan of course. Oh no, it’s just that these days the lies they tell the suckers to get them to give up their cosy lives and ship off to the far reaches of space are ten times worse than they used to be. Who knows what they tell the poor bastards now, but they still arrive here in droves, not cheerful and optimistic like they used to be however but shaken and bedraggled resembling more that of beggars on the street than the healthy, driven looking individuals I remember from the recruitment posters back home. It seems everyone’s ambition upon arrival now is to leave. Most don’t make it of course but those wily and clever enough to lie, cheat or on a rare occasion earn their way onto a spaceship inevitably get caught by the pirates and are never to be seen again. My group, or what you might laughingly call a “society” I suppose, are the last ones it seems who actually want to stay here. Call it loyalty, stupidity or just an inability to move on and accept reality but there are those of us that, for some crazy reason, still believe in this place, hence why I find myself working, what seems a perpetual night shift, in the vain hope that one day my efforts may yet make a difference… A sudden crunch beneath my feet shakes me from my reverie and I crouch down to see the remains of what looks like a crumpled up bounty advert. Holding it to the swiftly darkening sky it is just about possible to make out the words, “WANTED: For Robbery and Life Displacement”. Life Displacement, that’s “the” politically correct term on this planet, invented and used by those who haven’t and are never likely to experience its true meaning which itself is nothing short of death or murder in this case. When the revival terminal technology was launched it came with the advertising executives dream slogan of “Experience Eternal Life” but anyone with enough savvy to think about it soon realised that was just a romantic way of saying “Experience Eternal Death”. Myself? I’ve lost count of the number of times I’ve died but one thing’s for sure, it was never fun nor something a person could ever “get used to” and for this reason, despite our so called “charmed lives”, taking the life of a fellow colonist still to this day is considered a heinous crime. Normally, it’s almost textbook the kind of people who turn to such a way of life. Desperate colonists who, in some manic desire to leave this place, snap, loose all sight of reason and eventually go on a killing spree but as for this one? This one’s different somehow… My curiosity piqued I stand back a little, holding the page clear of the shadows and then, adjusting for the light, I recognise the familiar features of a girl in her early twenties with silver grey hair and pale skin. Although it has been many years, the name Wistrel Chianti is still as familiar to me as if it were yesterday. A pretty girl then, she was one of the most up and coming employees of the ill fated Sterling and Moss Association, popular, enthusiastic but with a strange dynamic and rebellious streak that could never allow her to be pigeon holed. Straightening with a sigh, I crumple the advert and drop it to the floor. Admittedly a long time has passed since I last saw her but I feel my heart sink at the thought she could have fallen so far. In their time the SMA group were among the most trusted of colonists on Calypso and their leader, Il Lavashna (after the founder Aziphirael Stone’s tragic demise) is still with us and loyal to the cause. As I move on resignedly I can’t help feeling that poor Az would be turning in his grave. Rounding a corner I see, up ahead through the gloom, my target, a lone cloaked figure standing half hidden by the shadow of a doorway. Hastening towards them I call out the pass code and nodding, the figure moves surreptitiously a little into the light, their face still shrouded by a deep weathered hood. “What’s the trade?” she says monotonically, giving away nothing but an indication of her gender. “Blue prints” I reply, ”5000 or equivalent and the information on the drop Stasi promised us”. Close enough to see the lower half of her face now, she smiles as she reaches beneath the cloak and produces a small bag. “Dulurium ingots” she says by way of explanation as she hands it to me, “and you’ll have your information.” I make to query the remark but, puzzlement evidently clear on my face, she anticipates the question and moves to point toward the road behind me. As I half turn to look the sharp snap-hiss of an En-Blade igniting heralds loudly my fatal mistake! Too late for weapons, I whirl to counter the attack but, with lightening speed, she has already brought the blade to bear and in a moment my vision explodes in a maelstrom of light and sparks, a streak of sudden pain down my right hand side and my legs buckle as my body spasms out of control… As I lay paralyzed from the electricity, staring up through a haze of pain, the figure staggers dislodging her hood and reaches up to feel the blooded bruise I inflicted on her face. By the light of the En-Blade the silver grey hair and pale features are suddenly apparent and I cry out in anguish, “WISTREL!!” Her head snaps round to look at me and I can see clearly the dark sunken eyes, an inhuman look of sheer hatred etched upon her features. Then, just as suddenly, her eyes widen as recognition dawns traversing slowly to a look of wonderment and in a moment she is the girl I once knew. She stairs unblinking down at me and I feel a rise of hope unfurl within that maybe it is only circumstances which have led her to this and perhapse, if I can persuade her, we might both still be saved. Then, slowly, her mouth twists into a cruel smile and my hopes are dashed as she reaches into my coat to retrieve the blue prints. Straightening, she raises the sword above my head and the pain erupts with ferocity, this time, beyond comparison. … “As the sparks filled my vision and death was upon me, the last thing I remember was the haunting look of contempt on her face and then… then the darkness consumed me yet again.”