When the going gets tough

The camera flicks on. The view is one of a Spartan set of quarters on what appears to be ship of Caldari design. The room’s only features are a small metal wall locker, a camp bed and a metal footstool. Plumb is reclined on the bed, looking decidedly worse for wear. His hair is greasy and unkempt, and he is clad in a loose fitting, grimy t-shirt and an equally distasteful pair of baggy combat trousers. Large circles are visible under his eyes, he looks like he hasn’t slept for days.

‘Personal log, 3rd of July 112YC. So... where to begin?’

He rubs a hand across his face and chin, trying to focus his thoughts.

‘My mother was fond of the saying “it is good to be wrong”. Two months ago, I found myself saying the exact opposite. It’s a bitch to be correct. We knew that the Sansha were rebuilding six years ago, and obviously the process is now complete. Mass Sansha raids have been occurring across the length and breadth of empire space, and the worst part of all this, is that they are not raiding military installations of technology centres. They are capturing civilians. Men, women and children, all abducted by Kuvakei’s forces and whisked away to only god knows where.’

Plumb stops speaking for a minute, closing his eyes and yawning loudly. He slowly pulls himself from the campbed, swinging his legs over the side and standing up.

‘Better to have bombarded their settlements from high orbit and kill them instantly than let the Sansha get hold of them. What awaits those poor people now is a fate far worse than death. It is the most horrific existence imaginable, and I wouldn’t wish it upon my worst enemy.’

He starts pacing up and down the width of the room, turning slowly at each wall with his hands behind his back.

‘To top it all off, Kuvakei himself has turned up, and has put out a call to all capsuleers, asking for their allegiance. It pleases me that the majority of New Eden’s capsuleers have chosen to stand against this threat, and irritates me that a minority actually view his twisted paradise as the way forward for humanity. Mr Verone has ordered us not to engage Nation forces, and if this wasn’t bad enough, it now turns out he has been in direct communication with Kuvakei, who apparently has acquired a strain of the Kyonoke virus. Kyonoke is a horrifically potent and effective viral infection that leads to an excruciatingly painful death. Kuvakei possessing this virus is a terrifying prospect in it’s own right, and according to our so-called glorious leader, Kuvakei was willing to give Kyonoke to the Guristas in exchange for our corporate loyalty. Mr Verone played it smart and turned him down, before alerting New Eden to the threat’.

Plumb stops pacing and sighs deeply, rubbing his eyes gently. He opens up the metal locker and removes a small bottle of Amarrian Whiskey from it’s top shelf, unstoppering the bottle and taking a long swig.

‘So, where has this situation left me? I have spent the last two months in near constant contact with the Dominations, who have asked me numerous times to launch strikes against Nation positions in Curse and beyond. Veto’s stance on Nation means this is not feasible, although the way things are going I doubt this will last much longer.'

He takes another swig from the bottle, before replacing the stopper and placing the bottle back inside the locker.

‘Nation aside, today I returned from what I can only describe as an interesting life experience. Two days ago I was contacted out of the blue by Miss Kimochi Rendar.’

The metal locker is closed as Plumb turns away from it and returns to the campbed, lowering himself onto it’s side and resting his head in his hands.

‘It turned out that for some reason that only the gods will know, Ms Lagann and Mortis’ sister decided to take a day trip to Curse. Upon arriving in Utopia, they were abducted and whisked out of the system. But not by forces of the Angel Cartel. No, somehow a splinter faction of Blooders managed to infiltrate the most heavily fortified Angel system in Curse and abduct a pair of capsuleers. Enter Ms Rendar, who asks me whether I would be interested in joining a rescue operation. Seeing as a sophisticated individual like Ms Rendar was involved, I decided to take part, thinking that this operation would be well organised and a firm and stable plan was in place. How very wrong I was.’

Plumb starts chuckling loudly as he lies down on the camped, putting his hands behind his head.

'It turns out that this mission had been masterminded by an associate of Mortis’, Ashley Ryltan. From what I can gather, Miss Ryltan is some form of AI in an organic body, possibly built by Mortis himself. Anyways, we end up attacking a small mining outpost belonging to this Blooder splinter group, and manage to find and rescue Morwen in a respectable amount of time. Repentence, however, is nowhere to be seen, and Ashley believes she can be found further inside the compound. We end up running into Repentence, who is not actually Repentence, who is now a Blood Raider, but with a Sansha intelligence occupying part of her mind. Mindfuck. Mindfuck. Mindfuck. Repentence, or rather, a hologram of her, politely informs us that the station we are on is rigged to explode and that chasing after the real her is pointless. What results is an exhilarating romp through the station back to the VCS Aigaion while the outpost destroys itself. Fun times. This has left us with no clue as to Repentence’s whereabouts or allegiance, and lots of scorched paintwork.'

He shakes his head slowly, before finally climbing into a sleeping bag and closing his eyes, uttering a final sentence.

‘Please join us next time on The Grand Adventures of Andrastus Plumb, where our hero fights a zombie of Otro Gariushi, who is a Gurista, who wants to be an Angel, who is sleeping with a Sansha, and whose mind is occupied by the soul of a long dead Serpentis. Reppy has a lot to answer for when it comes to the current status of my mental health. End log.’

Veto.

A camera drone turns on. The view is one of the main cargo bay of Plumb’s carrier, the Silent Angel. Plumb is stood on a gantry high on the side of the bay, and he is looking down into the veritable hive of activity inside it. Large volumes of equipment are being unloaded into the station dockyard, cargo MTAC’s laden with cargo containers lumber alongside lines of crewmen and fitters inspecting tugs and cargo tractors. The monolithic hull of a Hurricane class battlecruiser is visible through the yawning orifice of the carrier’s cargo doors. Maintenance drones are clustered along the warship’s port bow, applying paint to a section of her hull, whatever design being worked on hidden by the mass of the drones. Plumb is silent for a moment, seemingly watching the activity, before he starts to speak.

‘Personal log, 22nd March 112YC... So, it has come to this. Ghost Festival has been officially put into stasis, and Naraka alliance disbanded. The reasons for this closure are many, and I would be lying if I said that I didn’t contribute to the corporation’s downfall. The result is... well, what we see before us. A new home, new allies, perhaps new friends, although I won’t hold my breath.’

He stops speaking for a moment, his attention focused towards the far end of the hangar. The whine of an engine is audible, increasing in volume. A Fomori class planetary assault dropship moves into view, its four powerful magthrust engines rotating in their mounts as they bring the sleek craft to a slow stop in the middle of the hangar. The dropship begins a lazy 90 degree turn, before lowering itself to the floor of the hangar and powering down. It’s tailgate drops to the deck with a resounding clang, and several heavily armed troops walk out onto the deck, assault rifles slung across their backs.

‘Veto corp. Had I been asked where I imagined myself upon graduating the FNA, this would be one of the last places I would reply with. Fuck, the name Ethan Verone was infamous when I was still in the cockpit and proudly wearing the Navy uniform. My Angel Cartel associates will no doubt be unhappy about this move, but with the war with the Sansha still ongoing, I doubt they will turn down any assistance I render them in Curse. Mr Verone also maintains a stance of anti-slavery, so my more clandestine operations shouldn’t lead to any trouble.’

He is silent for a moment, watching the continuing disembarkation of personnel and material before continuing.

‘Whit, Ms Arkenath and Ms Rendar had already moved over to the Veto roster when I put in my application. Several other ex Preta members have also applied with me, seeing as Preta maintained a very close working relationship with Veto. We all have our reasons, I personally have nowhere else to go, and I enjoy flying with the ex Preta guys. Hell, even Mortis has applied, although as always his reasons and intentions remain cloaked in a shroud of secrecy. His giggling, chittering brat of a sister will undoubtedly follow Ms Lagann across, joy of joys. River is away in high security space on business with the Brutor Tribe, as apparently we may have an opportunity to move on a small fry Amarrian holder. We should have the logistics in place for the operation shortly, my chief of security has been leading training exercises on the surface of Goinard V. Admiral Noir once told me that our actions entirely shape our futures, and it is up to us to mold it as we wish. I hope for both the sake of my crew and myself, I have made the right decision.’

He sighs slowly, looking out beyond the carrier’s cargo doors at the hull of the Hurricane beyond.

‘End Log’

Before the feed closes off, the drones covering the Hurricane’s bow move away, revealing the design they had been working on. ‘VCS Kuun-Lan’, emblazoned in the pointed black and red lettering of veto corp, with the corporate crest painted above her name. The image of a stylized, snarling rabbit.