Behind Desmond "Dez" Hayashi

[Neff]

Any questions about story, style and the characters in this story are welcome. I ask you to send your comments of grammar to me in a PM, or keep them to yourself. This thread is intended to give my character more content when I play as him and is both inspired by in game events and not. All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

Omega Slip-up

A loud hiss exploded from behind Desmond’s left ear. He could make out the coolant rushing past his. Beeps and whines echoed in and out all around him. The world kept fading in and out of darkness. In his stupor he tried to reach for…what was it he reached for? Sight escaped him again and he sunk into unconsciousness.

Sira skipped around him, laughing as she tugged at his jacket. Her hair, shaved on the sides to about half an inch above her ear, the rest reaching to just above her shoulders, whipped about creating pink streaks in the fluorescent lights of the hangar bay. Desmond smiled and said something. He blinked. He spoke again, wondering if what he heard was real. The only thing that came out was a loud hiss. Sira jumped back, her face wide with fear.

“Desmond?”

He tried to say something again, and instead a woman’s plain voice said, “WARNING: NANOBOT RESERVES ACTIVATED. You now have…zero…nanobot capsules.”

Sira took another step back and screamed, tears beginning to well in her eyes, “Desmond!”

The cockpit shook violently, jarring Desmond into consciousness. His hands instinctively went to the flight controls. His fighter, the “Garuga”, tilted and banked to the right. His foot slammed the throttle, and at the same time he pulled his right collective back and pushed the left forward. This sent the Garuga into a high speed, right hand roll. She was so agile, it made him want to cry. Making a split decision, he pulled back on both collectives, pitching her up and then he whipped her around to face his opponent.

The reason for his ship’s state, as well as his, was the vessel that lay ahead of him. The thing was held together by scrap, but it packed one hell of a punch. A quick glance at his readouts told Desmond that the pilot was using a jammer, making it almost impossible to tell who sat behind the dingy glass of the cockpit. He had no more time to check anything other than his own energy and shield levels. Energy was nominal, but his shield was barely lugging along. The Garuga lurched as he slammed the throttle forward. The pirate vessel didn’t expect this move and began backing up, firing its weak flashpoints randomly. How did a pilot like this manage to get the jump on him? A quick strafe to the right decided the battle.

His own higher class flashpoints tore the scrap-heap-of-a-ship apart. Desmond sat in his cockpit, breathing heavily and clutching the flight controls tightly. He stared forward at the half-destroyed ship ahead of him. The damage he had done to it caused a chain reaction in its systems and it was suffering several explosions one after another. Desmond slowly returned to reality and began preforming the usual diagnostics. His ships nanobots had done their job and most of his crucial hull damage was patched up. A small alert kept silently appearing on his display warning him of the remaining damage to his ship, but he ignored it.

“Way to go girl,” he patted the dash of his cockpit and adjusted how he was sitting. He tapped the touch-display on his right, typing in the coordinates for the nearest friendly station. Repairs were going to cost him more than he wanted to spend. A chuckle escaped as he began the cruise procedure. He should probably be more careful out here in the Omegas.

Garuga jerked forward as the cruise engine kicked in. Desmond kicked back and looked about the cockpit. The whole thing was a mess. He leaned over slightly and snagged his headset and placed it back onto his head. He could immediately hear the usual border-world chatter. The display between each collective beeped, the regular PM alert from MercNet appeared. Apparently the rogue he smoked had a price on his head.

“Psh…that scum had only 10.000 on him? Yay…lunch…”