2 posts tagged “eve-online”

Transmission Status : Public Access Broadcast
Point of Origin : Hangar 61 Refugee Center, Derelik, Ammatar Mandate
Speaker : Curry Kior, CEO Si Chou Zhi Lu

* Audio and Video Feed Begins

* The speaker stands before refugees, freed slaves and station crew. The air is informal, a village square in a bleak metal surrounding.

Patriotism lies. Throughout my education I was taught how grand The Republic is, how much we have accomplished in so short a time. How better the condition of the Matari people is today. Look at all we have done for you!

Yet time and experience peels away the cloak of patriotic fever revealing the true state of affairs. It is with great remorse that I accept this truth as I have seen, and take action necessary as I must now take it.

The times have changed and not for the better.

Once, I was a young student, graduation certificate hanging in a new bunk of modest means, displayed with pride. Today I jettisoned it into the sun like trash. Once, I defended Midular, and trusted her direction as what is best for all Matari people everywhere. Today I transport slaves to safe haven and arm the refugees. Once, I negotiated for peaceful exchange of the enslaved with sympathetic Ammatar and Amarr. Today the sympathetic are fewer and farther between and the negotiations start with an enemy ambush.

Once the slave trade was confined to the regions of the despicable. Today, it infuriates me to open the Republic markets and see my cousins treated like cattle. I read that it is SCC who allows this outrage, and the Republic leadership that turns the blind eye.

Once Delictum 23216 represented a glimmer of hope within the Mandate. A hope for a tenuous detente that could lead to peace, that could even divide the Amarr Empire and weaken the enemy our People. Today, DELEO is laughable, falling under the control of Amarr overlords with the outstretched arms by their representatives, spokesmen and leadership, reduced now to sacrificial pawns and meatshield status.

Once I strode proudly through Republic stations, faction attired. Minor medals from missions pinned to my jacket. Today, I force myself to dock, I bite my tongue before my agents, I stare at fleet issue equipment numbly, I shred the news before the ink is dry, I spit out the names of the Appeasers in Parliament and the Corrupt in Council. And I dare wonder, have I too been corrupted this past year by the luxuries I was offered? By the relative safety we enjoy? By the even the simple luxuries of the food and clean water our Republic stations possess?

People of the Minmatar Republic, it is not the Empire that we have divided, it is the Matari that have been divided. We remain a conquerred people while a single cousin, a single brother, a single sister, a single father, a single mother remains a slave, a prisoner, a refugee. That is to say, remains within the greater Amarr Empire. We have been divided into two classes, the oppressed and the appeased!

I have seen first hand the condition of the slaves at the hands of the Amarr and their puppets. I have seen refugees stream off of transports rescued from the depths of despair. I have seen through the eyes of the freed and I can not forget what I see. I can not sit in a comfortable chair and sip chilled Gulfonodi vintage and 'recover' from a 'hard day' of police work.

I must rise. Now.

I look forward now, today, into the future. And I am compelled to act where others do not, to act where the Republic leadership has ignored, where the oppressed rise in spite of laws, rules, traditions. Once I did the work that CONCORD would not do. Today I do the work that the Republic will not do. My resources, and the resources of my corporation are dedicated to the freedom struggle of all Matari throughout New Eden. We fight on the front lines, we fight the slavers and their sympathizers. We live in our ships, sleep when cousins are free. We are Si Chou Zhi Lu and we rise!

There are those who have fought this battle, this front line for years. The unsung heroes, the freer of slaves, the battlers of oppression. They Rise and wage war for our lands and for our people. I speak of the Ushra'Khan, those on the fringe, those that I have admired and now join. Against the slavers Ushra'Khan stands where the Republic will not. Against th...

* The crowd stands and begins cheering at the mention of Ushra'Khan, drowning out the audio momentarily.

Join us now in this struggle! People of the Republic! This is your battle. This is your front line!

We are Ushra'Khan and we come for our people!

* The remaining words from the speaker are lost as the refugees and freed slaves begin chanting "We are Ushra'Khan", red fists raised high "We are Ushra'Khan!".

* Transmission Status: Complete

On 10/24 I packed up a hound with a few items, and set off for Providence to explore and recon. This is journal of that trip.

Day 1
17 jumps to Assah, the gateway to Providence, and I'm feeling a bit disoriented. The cold bite of jump gate transition lingers in the back of my vision. The ambient noise of nothing somehow seems different after a long haul like this. It feels good to travel again and this is the first excursion I've taken since joining Huang Yinglong. The walkabout seems to an annual thing.

Day 2
Today was less active for me than yesterday. I was plagued by biological systems malfunctions that drained my energy and left me in cot for most of the day. Some say it's the water - "Midular's Revenge" they call it.

There is one great difference to Molden Heath, something I must describe even as it pains me. These fringe systems are over flowing with the freed and rescued. Even though this is the Mandate the presence of free Minmatar overwhelm all others. The climate is that of a refugee camp on the fringes of a war, a slice of solace between strife and misery, and the unknown future.

While here in Hasateem I have seen the plight of the Matari first hand and have been greatly moved. I have seen freed slaves pour out of jury rigged and ramshackled transports, hundreds and thousands at a time. I have seen triage of sick and wounded freed matari in make shift hospitals, spontaneous education camps, villages created. I have seen Gallente shuttles with exhausted pilots bring in rescued slaves one by one.

Perhaps the most moving of all was a group of maybe a hundred young men and women who stood together, most just days away from being servants of the cruel, huddled around a bucket they were chanting and cheering, exhilerated at freedom. In turn, each was plunging their right hand into the bucket and raising up with a red fist thrust into the air. I stood watching for an hour as a steady astream came and went and tears filled my eyes. They were chanting "KARISHAL!".

Those of us that live in Molden Heath do not understand the degree of luxury we have in our Republic stations. We do not know the degree of isolation we have from the plight of our people. OUR people. Our brothers and cousins, sister and mothers who to this day are trapped in destitution and slavery throughout Amarr space. I can not sit still in the face of this and I can not help but to be ... transformed.

As I walked through the refugee camps I came to realize that many sported the red hand of Karishal. Those that did were the ones organizing, treating, feeding, helping and building. They were the ex-slaves that recovered first and would immediately turn to their kin and pick them up, bathe the sick and carry the dead. I could not tell how many have the red hand, 1 out of 10? 1 out of 5? The number grows by the minute and becomes a force of change.

With that, I decided it was time to visit Karishal's Tomb tomorrow.

Day 3 0700 - Meeting Overwhelming Force

I spent last night in the refugee camp and over a bowl of rations I met several young men and women each with a red hand. I asked them many questions and we talked long into the night. I asked their names and a young man replied "We were born to slavery. The Amarr gave us slave names. Now we are free and will earn our OWN names."

"Well that I can understand, but what do I call you now? Hey you?"

He looked down, I seem to have hit a nerve but the man quickly recovered and said "No! Until I have a name you can call me SPOON!" and he lifted his spoon in the air and nodded. His friends all laughed and so did I.

"Call me Bowl!" said a young woman.

"Soup!"

"I'm Sky!" said another and the laughter stopped. We all turned to the station portal and looked out upon a bleak stretch of space, no planet, no sky in sight.

Each day now is a victory for these young Matari. Each choice they made, each word they speak, is a defiant act against the masters they have escaped, against the ships they were trapped upon. Rebellion has become their oxygen and they have mastered it.

Among the slaves that had been brought into Providence since the fall of Unity Station many stories have spread in the few months. Stories of hope and bravery, defiance and battles. These have spread like wildfire, tales in the night, told slave to slave in whispers, repeated and memorized. Each refugee seems to know them all. Pieces of which you can here in their conversations as the refuges speak and plot out the future. Phrases like "Consider the Khumaak", "a new day dawns and a tempest brews in the east", and simply "The Defiant". They use these words in passing as greetings, as codes, and as answers to questions. These refugees know who Karishal Muritol was, and as they scrub the pipes and clean the filters in QR-K85 they know what Karishal's Folly means and why he died. The stories of the fall of Unity Station and the victories of the Ushra'Khan are repeated back and forth between a pair sitting with forgotten food at their side. They memorize each word exactly as told, the precision of slave training morphed into a weapon against those very slavers.

Spoon says that the stories are being repeated throughout Providence, throughout Devoid and into Domain. He does not know, but believes that enslaved Matari in Amarr Prime are hearing these stories now. He tells it as if its a tinderbox of rebellion waiting for a match. To look in his eyes and see the fire burning is to believe what he says.

Speaking of rebellion makes Spoon's hands clench and unclench, a fist pounds the floor with emphasis. I notice again the red hand and ask.

"What about the hand?" glancing to his right.

He looks at his hand and slowly brings it between us, fisted. "I have bloodied my hands. I am Ushra'Khan!" Rising to his feet above me, he, for a moment, looks older and harder than a young Krusual should. "I am Ushra'Khan!" now shouting, "We come for our people!"

He stops and looks at me but I don't see a boy/slave. I see young warrior, battle in his eyes, freedom now boiling in his blood. I realize that the refugee camp turned village here in Cargo Bay 16 has become silent. All are looking at Spoon. Some holding breath. A hesitant look, a nervous glance from others. Spoon just stands staring at me, red fist thrust in the air over his head fisted and still. A moment passes and another, a boy 30 feet away and maybe 15 years old stands and raises his fist "I am Ushra'Khan!". And a woman stands "I am Ushra'Khan!". And suddenly, as the habits of oppression are overwhelmed by the powers of freedom, all are standing, hundreds, maybe a thousand, packed into the Bay, fists in the air, shouting a war cry, a freedom song, a family name, the beginning of the future, all declaring Defiance. By the time the chanting has unified I am on my feet, tears running down my cheeks, fist in air and I join my voice with a thousand others declaring in unison "I am Ushra'Khan! We Come For Our People! We Come For Our People!"

Day 3 1300 - Seeing Defiance

"What about you CK? Are you Ushra'Khan too?" Spoon had found me while I was getting lunch. I realized I wasn't but 5 or 6 years older than him but we had both been hardened in different ways. I had grown up on the run, and knew what he could expect.

"I share many beliefs and goals with the Ushra'Khan, but I am a Wu Xei of Huang Yinglong. I am close with the Ushra'Khan though and they have drawn me to Providence."

"What is it that do? Do you slaughter the Amarr?"

"Well I live in Molden Heath, where I combat the darkened, the criminals. Slavers and thieves both. There, I do the work that CONCORD can not do for one reason or the other as well as defend the Republic."

At the mention of CONCORD something changes and his face shifts. There I go, talking politics.

"I know, Spoon, CONCORD permits slavery in Amarr. It is a very difficult balance they try to achieve. It is not always good, nor accurate."

"CK, it's ... well ... how can they?!"

"They may not be able to for long. There are many within the Republic that seek to end slavery sooner than later. Many call for war, total war, between the factions. When it comes many will die, but all will be freed."

The young man sat there and fretted, obviously trying to contain his anger, until he mumbled "Consider the Khumaak" to himself and caught a breath. He relaxed so I relaxed and changed the subject.

"I am capsuleer, and I have a ship in station. I'm going to head to QR-K85 now. I have room on my crew for you."

"QR-K85?! Karishal's Defiance! Yes take me."

And with that we left. The hound is fairly automated and the trip would be uneventful if my intel was right. By all accounts, most active CVA were in 9UY docked for a slaverhound fight or some such nonsense. By the time we got there, they'd certainly be too drunk to pay attention to scanners and what not. I set Spoon up in the Damage station and gave him a quick lesson - red bad, white good, data update and diagnostics. He picked it up quick. I told my First to answer all his questions and stay on deck. The hound's Second took his normal post at Engineering and I gave the Third station credits and the day off. He was quite relieved given the flight plan.

"Crew - we will be on a recon mission through the 9UY pipe into the QR pocket. We will drop tacticals given the chance, and we will take long range photos of any POS or Outpost we detect. Have the deck crew remove the Warp Core Stabilizers and power up the cloak. We don't want to sit waiting for a lock if we encounter hostiles or targets of opportunity."

"HYL 0x0001 is fully armed and combat ready, Sir."

This wasn't exactly what the crew of the hound HYL 0x0001 wanted to hear. I had exercised this crew enroute and other than a couple patrols, they hadn't seen much combat. There are a few ways to get experience, and "Both Feet First" is my favorite. And I admittedly had quite a bit of faith in that fancy guristas cloak I had recently bought.

We left. And the pipe was exactly as I expected. Empty into 9UY where several CVA and DELEO pilots enjoyed hangar games with each other. A few other scouts but no one in near space. So into the QR pocket we go. Intel had come in that the U-H gate in QR was hot. Old intel, but fresh enough to prompt me to take the loop to 5IO8-U and enter the system from that side.

The loop had two "neutrals" of interest but first I would complete the primary objective. We entered QR-K85 from 5IO8-U and fired up directional scan immediately. A seventh sense started ringing in my head loud and clear and my heart was starting to pound, echoes in the fluid. We decloaked and aligned, local with several CVA but nothing on scan, and with a twitch, warped to an observation point near Karishal Defiance. Tactical dropped and come-about. I couldn't ignore the sense that something was wrong and warped immediately back 5IO gate. I'm sure a seasoned recon pilot in a Rapier would call me a coward yet I was in a paper thin Hound, tricked out for a poor man's recon. I follow my gut.

Time to eye ball the neutrals in 5IO. My heart back to normal, I turned attention to the scanner and soon picked up a myrmidon and hoarder. Blink. Once in a tactical, cloak and start to narrow them down. Probe would be handy about now but only so many slots and I was already packed with .25 PG to spare. So then it got strange. The myrm popped leaving the hoarder alone with a capsule. Bait move? Or is a rookie stuck at a belt and blowing it royally. Well the hoarder will surely help him out! This is 0.0 and I couldn't figure what the deal could be. We aligned to their position when a CVA entered system. Gig is up, and now it's officially time to go.

Align to U-H and warp to gate tactical. I pick up a Curse on scan and now I know what the gut was saying. GTFO.

Jump. Align. Warp. And sure enough as I'm heading across 9UY intel comes flooding in of a 20 ship CVA gate camp actively engaged. Bad timing. When I arrive, drones were everywhere, one red pod and no blues to be seen. Good time to jump.

I end up right behind the pod and consider popping off a shot when the Curse pilot jumps in. Those buggers have hella range and too close. Cloak and align but it's too late, I'm spotted and his drones come out. It's now down to a race, can he lock faster than I can reach warp? This is where the 0x0001 shines - when aligned, she can instawarp on decloak. The Curse eats our warp trail.

I know all you highly skilled pilots are snickering, "Feh rapier no fear blah blah". Some of us have a ways to go yet. Someday...

With no kills, and no pictures, I'll have to return to QR to pay my respects to Karishal another time.

We docked and deboarded and Spoon was visibly shaken by the flight. White as a ghost and fairly trembling, I couldn't tell if it was fear or vengeance that was overwhelming him. We had a close call with slavers and flew straight through a combat zone.

"Spoon come on let's get us a drink, it will help with the nerves."

"No. I'm fine." He stopped in his tracks and took a tight breath. Spoon looked into my eyes and steeled his gaze and through clenched teeth said "and call me QR-K85!"

Day 4 - Witness to Disaster

I woke some hours ago, again with the refugees. But this day is not a day of hope, not a day of freedom as tragedy struck in the night. In the last few hours I have pieced together what I can of this. Holding a scrap of paper in my hand I head to the hound, it will be ready when I get there.

Three hours ago

I wake to screams.

Reflexes take over and I roll to a crouch, side arms out instantly, sleep gone. I scan the Bay expecting a fire fight and hand to hand combat but the scene was worse than that. A mist drifted through the hangar bay about knee high, a few people were standing shrieking, others crouching over bodies. No visible hostiles, I stand and stride to the nearest survivor.

"What happened!"

"They are all dead!" shrieked the hysterical refugee.

All in all dozens survived the night. Dozens remain out of the hundreds who had escaped to here. Dozens alive with the tears of hundreds dead in their eyes.

I look for the station crew and see several huddled in horror at the hallway and I stride towards them. While I had no authority here, a capsuleer has both the air of authority and the general respect of crews to get what they want.

"Surveillance tapes! Now!" I bark, knowing that the voice of command would snap them out of their stasis.

"Destroyed, Sir. We looked straight off."

My eyes harden. This was no malfunction, no systems accident, not even sabotage. This was an attack. I activate my sub lingual communicator and contact my crew. A capsuleer on covert recon isn't unprepared, not even during down time.

"First, report!"

Pause. Click. "First rdy." My First Officer is capsuleer material, efficient and prompt. He would be in pod except for a skin allergy. Even without the training he has picked up a few of the capsuleer habits like dropping his vowels.

"First. Review the reels from aegisbots 6 and 7 for the last two hours. Contact me as soon as you see something." I never go anywhere without 6 and 7 now. The microcameras have a 360 degree view and days worth of storage. Unnoticeable, they are handy diplomatic tools.

"Rgr. What am I looking for?"

"You'll know when you see. There was an attack in the camp. A biological factor most likely. Send the medteam down too for diagnostics and triage."

"Sir. This is the hound."

Hurmph. The hound has a medkit under a seat and an autodoc that does little more than dispense bandages in three sizes. I've been spoiled by my typhoon's full medteam with diagnostic equipment and sick bay.

"Send Third down with the kit at least. It's better than nothing."

"Third's not board, Sir. He never came back last night."

This station has a bar. He'll be easy to find when there's time.

"Quirk is here and asking what's going on."

"Quirk?"

"QR-K85, Sir."

My tension eased a fraction, knowing my young friend was not among the dead. "Send him down then. And why is he still on board?"

"Following orders, Sir. He has a lot of questions."

Another time and I would laugh.

Quirk arrived at full speed and immediately got to work. Other survivors recognized him and soon he had a team working triage.

First found the incident in minutes. A freight container was delivered to the bay in the middle of the night by station crew. Routine stuff. It sat on the loading deck for an hour before it started emitting a vapor. The people died in the sleep. The container then burned to the deck in a slow low heat fire.

I strode to the deck where the container had been. A scorch mark was all that remained and some ash. I signaled a deck crew and ask to see the manifest. While he flipped through the records a speck of light gray caught my eye and I kicked the ash with a boot toe and reached down to pick up a piece of a freight container tag. Just a fraction of a security seal remains from the freight container. Turning it in my hand I see print. An adjustment to my ocular filter and letters emerge from the ash covered scrap "m 2321".

This day is not over. As soon the secure com link is established and the report submitted, I'm departing for Providence again. My Third, Ensign Tokana Yushota is dead, a victim of the attack. Quirk now sits at DC and will be Acting Third by field promotion. The container manifest shows that it came on station via private delivery. A little bribery and I have the gate trace. It's time to get to the root of this but I fear I already know the answer.

Day 4 Part 2 - Transformation

I write this again from retrospect, from the safety and familiarity of my quarters in Hrokkur. Yes, Hrokkur, the result of a miscalculation and disaster. The frontier has dangers, some known, others new. The wu xei errant faces these dangers, accepts the possible outcomes before stepping towards the battle. Even in the face of overwhelming odds, sacrifice must be made for the greater cause. I am wu xei, a dragon warrior of Huang Yinglong, and the path I follow is the Tao De Long Xia. Of the Eight Qualities, the Fist is the first. We say "The fist is like a shooting star". Today I flew beside the Fist of Ushra'Khan.

My bribes were able to get me a gate trace for the ship that delivered the freight container that killed the refugees. In all 920 died, and 7 survived. It is not known why some survived, yet initial indications suggest a genetic factor was used. The origin of the container was not too remote - Dital in the Devoid region. This would be an easy trip through lowsec systems but into hostile areas none the less. Fairly routine, a neutral gate camp, a red gate camp. Nothing of note. Dihra was overrun with anarchists so I decide to dock and check my various intel sources which were all now working on this. I would soon have many favors to repay.

Quirk had worked in this system before and we needed to get him in station. I have a few tools from a prior occupation that serves in situations like this. I slip a small data chip from a cuff pocket and click it to the neocom. A snap shot of Quirk and a few morphs later and ***** ******* is born.

Quirk blinks back tears looking at the security certificates as I hand them to him. He knows what he holds. Irrevocable Republic identity. Tribal affiliation with the Vherokior. Safe passage throughout Empire.

"Curry, how did you ... what does..."

"Quirk you can board the station without fear. None will question these certificates or your identity. You can not be a slave again. Even CONCORD will protect you now. You are Registered. Now get to work, make contact and find out what you can!"

He falters, but takes the certificates and looks at the chip. A moment of hesitation before he inserts the chip under the skin of wrist. It flashes beneath his red stain for a second as it activates. A whirl and he's out the door.

The gate trace ends in Dital, warn torn system of Deviod suggesting a safe spot transfer point for such dangerous and illegal weaponry. Well illegal in Republic at least, who knows about Devoid. My contacts have nothing but Quirk returns soon.

He spoke with crew and slaves. Passed on word of the massacre and found what we needed to know. SS cargo transfers in Dital were not unusual. So we would go and wait.

We position at an observation point above KPB7-G gate in Dital and cloak. And wait. Not long it turns out. Within the second hour suspicious activity begins. First, a DELEO enters system. I wouldn't think anything of it but for the tag from the container and the pilot's behavior. He sets what appears to be a random heading and wmd's out to 300km. And then warps off grid. A few minutes later, the gate activates. SHERN!

Damn that traitor! But now it falls into place. My trigger finger is itching in spite of the unsteady detente with DELEO. She immediately warps off grid. It's clear now. Delectium 21326 are slaughtering freed slaves, attacking refugee camps, murdering indiscriminately.

Shern leaves local and I have three choices for pursuit. My gut says Esecama. Warp. Jump. Nothing. Gut Uaedelah. Warp. Jump. Shern. She then pops out of local again. Laddiaha. Warp. Jump. Shern! Dammit, this system has 4 other gates. Gut don't fail me now! Nakatre. Warp. Jump. Nothing. Mendori. Warp. Jump. Nothing. Rahadalon. Warp. Jump. Nothing! Dock then and wait.

I exit pod and enter cabin. Quirk is already making contacts, whispers with station crew.

"Curry. I can go where you can't. I need to go. I can find her and where the bio agent is being manufactured."

I know he's right. "Ok. Contact me on these secure channels. We will meet again in Ammold."

"Ammold?"

"Didn't you read the certs I gave? You are a student at Republic Military School. Classes start in 3 weeks."

I returned to Hassateem with the short crew and short temper. DELEO's involvement was not to be expected. Fortunately I didn't have to wait long to hear from Quirk. A shipment of bio agents was scheduled to be delivered to 9UY via the KBP pipe at 0100. With luck, I would be waiting.

I join three Ushra'Khan pilots on patrol. **** *******, ********, and ***** ******. We set out from Assah and immediately run into a CVA gate camp in G-5EN2. Obviously this shipment is vital as we face 10 ships, interceptors, interdictor, hacs. A light and fast strike force. We are four, and we are Ushra'Khan and we skirmish. Cloak, position, decloak, attack. Repeat. It doesn't go well. We regroup and reship. Quirk contacts me again, and says the shipment is now in YW. If I can act now, I can intercept in 4B. That warp bubble is in my way and I engage the Sabre.

I end up back in Hrokkur. Ship wrecked. Crew dead. Pod evaporated. It's not clear what all went wrong. I repeated trained moves that had worked in the past. I was outnumbered and had two maledictions in-bound. Doomed might describe the situation. Yet a Wu Xei seeks to embody the ren, zhong, yong and yi - benevolence, loyalty, bravery, and righteousness. My mission was to stop that ship and destroy the toxins before they could be used. My sacrifice was small and made willingly for the greater good. My crew knew the risks and died for what they believed. We are all Wu Xei and this story will not end as long as our people are in chains.

My trip to Providence has transformed me. I have bloodied my hands and tattooed my face. I have seen the plight first hand and I have been moved.

Respectfully submitted to Huang Yinglong by
Curry Kior, Wu Xei of Huang Yinglong
10/28/109