Flash Fiction

I've never taken a stab at any sort of fan fiction...but decided after reading Casiella's blog that I'd take a stab at it.

Topic:: This week’s prompt:
New Eden has seen new craft take the field this week, with the deployment of fighter-bombers designed to threaten and destroy capital ships as part of Dominion 1.1. These craft have non-capsuleer pilots controlling them, much like the existing fighters. Your story should reference these fighter-bombers in some way. Maybe a FB pilot prepares for an engagement in which she’ll pilot such a craft, or pirates look to steal the technology and resell it, or maybe station crew observe a battle involving these ships. Or maybe you’ll even examine the origins behind their names.
Let’s see what you’ve got!

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------
"All set Chief. Those new FBs are loaded and ready to go," Crewman D'Tar waved a wrench at the shiny row of death-dealers in the launch bay.

"I don't know what the big goddamn deal is with these things," the Chief muttered. "Like we weren't killing big enough ships fast enough?" Chief Tranden was an engineer....a builder...a creator. Enemy or not, he despised seeing man's creations destroyed. And for what? An empty portion of space? A system with maybe one inhabitable planet that would likely end up raped for it's resources anyway?

He had seen entire fleets of Hulks destroyed to fill the pockets of a few reckless capsuleers with ISK to be spent on implants and ships so that they can become even more effective at destruction. Wars of principle ended eons ago. The fight over slavery being the closest thing to a 'cause' in the galaxy. But who really cared if a few dirty, uneducated wretches spent their otherwise useless lives serving tea to wealthy, self-proclaimed (and equally worthless) nobles?

A man's hands and mind are what set him apart from the animals. The real sin is to waste those gifts and leave no physical creation behind to represent his life. These new ships were machined and crafted by an artisan. It was the Chief's shame that his greatest gift was the ability to create the most lethal machines in the galaxy. He took one last look at them and turned to walk away.

"At least I'm good at something."