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.’
Sunday 4 July 2010
Friday 23 April 2010
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.
‘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.
Saturday 26 September 2009
A Silent Ultimatum
The video feed displays the lounge area of Plumb’s quarters aboard the Silent Angel. Plumb himself is sat at his desk, bolt upright, his eyes locked forwards and betraying no emotion to anybody who may have been watching. He is throwing a leather ball roughly the size of an apple at the opposite bulkhead and then catching it again with almost uncanny precision. As the feed sharpens, what appears to be cable comes into view, plugged directly into Plumb’s pod socket interface. The cable is linked to the data interface in the wall behind Plumb’s desk, which is m=quietly ticking to itself as Plumb continues to throw the ball against the bulkhead. Plumb remains in this state for several minutes, throwing the ball, letting it rebound from the bulkhead, catching it without effort and then throwing it back again. Eventually he catches the ball and freezes, his body rigid. He remains perfectly still for a few seconds, then seems to snap into reality. He looks around briefly before removing the cable from his interface socket and standing up, ball still in hand.
‘Personal log... 25th September 111YC’ he says slowly, looking down at the leather ball and turning it between his hands.
‘I am actually quite surprised at how effective River’s meditation technique is’ he says matter-of-factly, continuing to study the ball, ‘One wouldn’t believe that throwing a ball at a wall could so effectively clear your mind’. He starts to pace slowly, continuing to study the ball. Reaching the far bulkhead, he stops before turning to face the camera and looking up.
‘It seems that the world is in shambles. A week or so ago, one of Ghost Festival’s pilots, Ms Amaterasu Mikoto, was kidnapped by forces unknown...’ He pauses to reconsider his words ‘Or rather, unknown to me. Several of the other pilots seem to have an idea of who the kidnapper is however’.
He starts to pace again, throwing the ball up in the air and catching it between his hands.
‘While the kidnapping itself is slightly disturbing and in my eyes an insult to the corporation, it is not the act itself that concerns me. What concerns me is how divided the corporation has become over how exactly they intend to retrieve her. A few days ago I attended a meeting chaired by Nephilim Arkenath herself with the subject of how we can go about retrieving Amaterasu from her kidnapper. As I have stated before, The Nephilim, Inara and Morwen among others know who the kidnapper is, and had concocted a plan to retrieve Amaterasu.... by means of a prisoner exchange’ He pauses, having reached the opposite wall. ‘Well, a prisoner exchange of sorts anyway. The idea was to trade Mr Reimei Kaminamina... Kaminaminada...’
Plumb stops talking for a second, holding his ball close to his face and pulling some fluff out of a seam before continuing,
‘Well, i’ll call him Reimei. The plan involved trading him for Amaterasu and then killing Reimei and activating a soft copy, or something to that effect. The process is not important, what’s important is how quickly the meeting... degraded.’ He seems to snarl the last word almost, his expression darkening.
‘The meeting ended up being a monumental clash of egos. Agendas, counter-agendas, unkind language, etcetera etcetera. Eventually Nephilim Arkenath walked out of the meeting, and I don’t blame her’. He sighs heavily, closing his eyes for a couple of seconds.
‘It is no secret that I don’t hold to this “We are a family happy snuggle snuggle” idea that Nephilim Arkenath holds so dear, but even i can see that the situation is reaching breaking point. Unless Ghost Festival bucks it’s ideas up and starts acting like a frakking team then Amaterasu will never be recovered. Not by us, anyway. Good old Ethan Verone from Veto has launched his own quest to find her, which im sorry to say will likely be more successful than any Ghost initiative at this point’.
He pauses again before moving over to his set of shelves and resting the ball upon the lowest shelf. He then proceeds to reach up to the highest shelf, removing a beautifully detailed model of a Chimera carrier from a wooden stand. The model is at least a metre long and is gorgeously hand painted in the colours of the Caldari fleet. Plumb looks at the model for a moment, before turning around and continuing to pace.
‘I wouldn’t call myself a part of Nephilim Arkenath’s big Family as all the other pilot’s do, but I can agree with her that unless we band together and put petty differences aside, we can wave goodbye to any chance of recovering miss Mikoto. I have offered my services to Nephilim Arkenath in helping her cause, but unless the corporation acts like the supposed family they say they are, I fear that that cause is lost’.
He looks down at the model starship in his hands, turning it over slowly and admiring the functional design.
‘Note to self: Remember Miss Arkenath has a new title. That woman has fury, and id rather not invoke it by using the wrong name. Recorder off’.
‘Personal log... 25th September 111YC’ he says slowly, looking down at the leather ball and turning it between his hands.
‘I am actually quite surprised at how effective River’s meditation technique is’ he says matter-of-factly, continuing to study the ball, ‘One wouldn’t believe that throwing a ball at a wall could so effectively clear your mind’. He starts to pace slowly, continuing to study the ball. Reaching the far bulkhead, he stops before turning to face the camera and looking up.
‘It seems that the world is in shambles. A week or so ago, one of Ghost Festival’s pilots, Ms Amaterasu Mikoto, was kidnapped by forces unknown...’ He pauses to reconsider his words ‘Or rather, unknown to me. Several of the other pilots seem to have an idea of who the kidnapper is however’.
He starts to pace again, throwing the ball up in the air and catching it between his hands.
‘While the kidnapping itself is slightly disturbing and in my eyes an insult to the corporation, it is not the act itself that concerns me. What concerns me is how divided the corporation has become over how exactly they intend to retrieve her. A few days ago I attended a meeting chaired by Nephilim Arkenath herself with the subject of how we can go about retrieving Amaterasu from her kidnapper. As I have stated before, The Nephilim, Inara and Morwen among others know who the kidnapper is, and had concocted a plan to retrieve Amaterasu.... by means of a prisoner exchange’ He pauses, having reached the opposite wall. ‘Well, a prisoner exchange of sorts anyway. The idea was to trade Mr Reimei Kaminamina... Kaminaminada...’
Plumb stops talking for a second, holding his ball close to his face and pulling some fluff out of a seam before continuing,
‘Well, i’ll call him Reimei. The plan involved trading him for Amaterasu and then killing Reimei and activating a soft copy, or something to that effect. The process is not important, what’s important is how quickly the meeting... degraded.’ He seems to snarl the last word almost, his expression darkening.
‘The meeting ended up being a monumental clash of egos. Agendas, counter-agendas, unkind language, etcetera etcetera. Eventually Nephilim Arkenath walked out of the meeting, and I don’t blame her’. He sighs heavily, closing his eyes for a couple of seconds.
‘It is no secret that I don’t hold to this “We are a family happy snuggle snuggle” idea that Nephilim Arkenath holds so dear, but even i can see that the situation is reaching breaking point. Unless Ghost Festival bucks it’s ideas up and starts acting like a frakking team then Amaterasu will never be recovered. Not by us, anyway. Good old Ethan Verone from Veto has launched his own quest to find her, which im sorry to say will likely be more successful than any Ghost initiative at this point’.
He pauses again before moving over to his set of shelves and resting the ball upon the lowest shelf. He then proceeds to reach up to the highest shelf, removing a beautifully detailed model of a Chimera carrier from a wooden stand. The model is at least a metre long and is gorgeously hand painted in the colours of the Caldari fleet. Plumb looks at the model for a moment, before turning around and continuing to pace.
‘I wouldn’t call myself a part of Nephilim Arkenath’s big Family as all the other pilot’s do, but I can agree with her that unless we band together and put petty differences aside, we can wave goodbye to any chance of recovering miss Mikoto. I have offered my services to Nephilim Arkenath in helping her cause, but unless the corporation acts like the supposed family they say they are, I fear that that cause is lost’.
He looks down at the model starship in his hands, turning it over slowly and admiring the functional design.
‘Note to self: Remember Miss Arkenath has a new title. That woman has fury, and id rather not invoke it by using the wrong name. Recorder off’.
Tuesday 1 September 2009
Incoming!
Plumb is sat in his quarters on the Silent Angel, a bottle of Amarrian Whiskey in hand. He is watching a video feed being projected onto the wall furthest from his desk. The feed is a gun camera, onscreen a Megathron battleship is being pounded by a combined Veto/Ghost Festival fleet. Multiple torpedoes appear from behind the gun camera’s perspective, arcing into the battleship and detonating vividly, concentric rings of kinetic energy blossoming out from their points of impact. As the Megathron finally succumbs to the firepower of it’s attackers, Plumb lets loose a sly smile.
‘Juggernaught Torpedoes. Yours truely, Captain Andrastus Plumb, Ghost Festival’
He is silent for a moment longer, taking a swig from his bottle of whiskey.
‘Frak, i miss battleship combat sometimes’.
The camera drone remains active for another half a minute as the gun camera replays.
‘Video off’.
‘Juggernaught Torpedoes. Yours truely, Captain Andrastus Plumb, Ghost Festival’
He is silent for a moment longer, taking a swig from his bottle of whiskey.
‘Frak, i miss battleship combat sometimes’.
The camera drone remains active for another half a minute as the gun camera replays.
‘Video off’.
Monday 24 August 2009
A Ghost Festival
Fight or flight. One of the most basic human instincts, prevalent when a person is faced with a life endangering threat. For Captain Andrastus Plumb, fight or flight was something to be overcome. With a decade long military career behind him, months of training had all but removed this most basic impulse, and yet as he looked out into hangar I-45 of the Concord station he called home, he was gripped by an almost paranormal fear. His blood felt like ice in his veins, his breathing slow and shallow. Ghosts. Spectres. Nightmares. They had stalked him for 5 years, 5 years of sleepless nights, wracked by grief, sorrow and fear. At night he could still see them, still hear them, still feel them. The faces of his brothers and sisters, and the faces of the dreaded inhuman enemy. Ironic, he thought to himself, that he flew for a corporation called ‘Ghost Festival’, for it seemed that every night a mournful, horrifying festival occurred inside his mind. A Ghost Festival for the souls of those who died on that fateful day. A Ghost Festival for the dead of BK4.
As Andrastus felt the fear surge through his body, he closed his eyes, forcing images of that horrible event from his mind. Temporarily forcing his emotions into the recesses of his mind, he looked back out into the bay at the bloated, alien object within it. The Sansha Phantasm cruiser floated like a bad omen in the antigravity field of the docking bay, the harsh lighting glaring off reflective, curved hull panels. Sharp reflections bounced off the array of spikes arranged along the z-axis of the cruiser’s forward hull and highlighting the huge knife like blade on it’s prow.
‘Phantasm... an apt name’ Plumb said to himself under his breath, his eyes fixed upon the alien shape in the bay. He had flown a Phantasm more than once since becoming a capsuleer, an attempt to face his personal demons. The attempt served only to revitalise his nightmares, forcing him to become reclusive.
‘It didn’t help that mother had died two months before’ he thought, the memories of Malkalen still fresh in his mind. Again forcing his thoughts aside, he focused on the ship in the bay, marvelling at the twisted genius built into it’s every hull plate. When his associate had found the ship being auctioned in Jita, Plumb had used everything in his power to acquire the ship, ordering it flown out to Goinard without having the ship stripped of it’s fitted equipment. A door behind him opened, snapping Plumb from his thoughts. His associate, a young Khanid woman called River T’Urell, walked slowly and quietly into the room, her long brown hair flowing loosely over her shoulders.
Plumb nodded to her, ‘River. Thank you for helping me acquire this ship. It is of great importance to me’. The Khanid girl, a head shorter than he was, drifted over to him wordlessly, crossing her arms across her chest. They stood in silence for a few moments, both looking out at the Sansha Heavy Cruiser that commanded the bay. She finally spoke, a soft and caring voice that carried the warmth of a summer’s day.
‘Andrastus... Are you sure that doing this is the right thing?’ she asked as she looked up at him, a saddened expression on her face.
‘Yes, I need to do this. I must do this. I refuse to hide from myself anymore’ He replied, his voice carrying a faint tinge of sorrow. ‘This ship means a lot to me, more than anyone can imagine’ he finished, grinding his teeth in his mouth as he finished.
River continued to look up at him, her face still conveying the worry she felt slowly rising in her gut. ‘Why this one? Over all the others?’ she asked quickly, pausing briefly before continuing ‘Have you seen this one before?’. Her question received a small nod from Plumb, who continued to look out into the bay.
‘Yes’ he said, his voice steady, ‘This ship, designation YK-855 and I have met before. We met in battle, at BK4-YC’ he finished, pronouncing the system name with emphasis. He turned towards her, looking into her eyes as he continued ‘This ship is a link to that past, to the events of that day’ he said. His voice had started to shake, the saddness welling up within him. ‘I cannot allow this fear, sorrow and anger to dominate my life anymore’.
This latest revelation seemed to stun River, who looked up at him with a distinct look of shock. Her eyes flitted across his face, her gaze shifting between his eyes quickly. ‘Andrastus, get rid of that ship! Now! You cant have it here, gods dammit! Remember the last time you flew one?!’ Her voice had started to rise, sounding almost like she was begging. ‘You have spent the last two years trying to hide your suffering from me, but I know it is there. You go to bed for 16 hours and yet when you leave your quarters the next day you look worse than when you entered them the night before. Mortis has told me about the nightmares, Andrastus. Having that ship here wont solve anything!’ She placed both her hands on his chest, tears appearing in her eyes.
‘I... I can’t, I need to do this, not just for me, but for all the others, those who didn’t come home’ he said, looking back out at the ship.
‘You don’t serve them by mentally destroying yourself! Please, I beg of you, get rid of that ship!’ she paused for a second before saying ‘Look, Andrastus.... I know it is hard for you, I can only imagine what it must have been like, I wasn’t there afterall, but-‘ She was cut short. Plumb had whirled around to face her, moving up against her and staring down into her face.
‘EXACTLY!’ He shouted, rage arising from nowhere, consuming him, ‘You WERENT there! You have no idea what it was like! They killed my brothers, my sisters, people I had KNOWN and SERVED WITH for EIGHT YEARS! Ejected from airlocks, hacked into pieces, shot into mist or dragged away to be turned into more of those INFERNAL... THINGS!’ He shouted, his anger now fully controlling him. River started to back away, her eyes full of fear as she watched her closest friend tear himself apart. ‘I owe it to them, Miss T’Urell’, The use of her last name in such a formal tone hurting her more. He only addressed her like that when he was angry or upset with her. ‘I owe it to Pierre, vented into space when the Sansha drones overran the auxiliary damage control. I owe it to Marie, cut into pieces by a mob of mindless, evil killers! I owe it to Jaque, frak it I owe it to all them’. He managed to finally bring his anger under control, closing his eyes and taking long, deep breaths. He looked away from her, steadying himself against the reinforced glass of the viewing port as he calmed down.
‘Im sorry, I...’ he paused again, continuing to breathe heavily. ‘I can’t get rid of it, I need it. Study thine enemy. I cannot allow it to happen again, I wont allow it to happen again. We lost that battle because we failed to face facts, we failed to study the Sansha threat before blindly marching into their space’. He turned to face her, his eyes red and swollen from the emotion within him. ‘I need this ship so I can study them, know them. we made the mistake of not studying them 5 years ago. We made the mistake of underestimating a foe that has grown steadily stronger in our complacency. But it wont happen again, River, not on my watch. There will not be another BK4’.
As Andrastus felt the fear surge through his body, he closed his eyes, forcing images of that horrible event from his mind. Temporarily forcing his emotions into the recesses of his mind, he looked back out into the bay at the bloated, alien object within it. The Sansha Phantasm cruiser floated like a bad omen in the antigravity field of the docking bay, the harsh lighting glaring off reflective, curved hull panels. Sharp reflections bounced off the array of spikes arranged along the z-axis of the cruiser’s forward hull and highlighting the huge knife like blade on it’s prow.
‘Phantasm... an apt name’ Plumb said to himself under his breath, his eyes fixed upon the alien shape in the bay. He had flown a Phantasm more than once since becoming a capsuleer, an attempt to face his personal demons. The attempt served only to revitalise his nightmares, forcing him to become reclusive.
‘It didn’t help that mother had died two months before’ he thought, the memories of Malkalen still fresh in his mind. Again forcing his thoughts aside, he focused on the ship in the bay, marvelling at the twisted genius built into it’s every hull plate. When his associate had found the ship being auctioned in Jita, Plumb had used everything in his power to acquire the ship, ordering it flown out to Goinard without having the ship stripped of it’s fitted equipment. A door behind him opened, snapping Plumb from his thoughts. His associate, a young Khanid woman called River T’Urell, walked slowly and quietly into the room, her long brown hair flowing loosely over her shoulders.
Plumb nodded to her, ‘River. Thank you for helping me acquire this ship. It is of great importance to me’. The Khanid girl, a head shorter than he was, drifted over to him wordlessly, crossing her arms across her chest. They stood in silence for a few moments, both looking out at the Sansha Heavy Cruiser that commanded the bay. She finally spoke, a soft and caring voice that carried the warmth of a summer’s day.
‘Andrastus... Are you sure that doing this is the right thing?’ she asked as she looked up at him, a saddened expression on her face.
‘Yes, I need to do this. I must do this. I refuse to hide from myself anymore’ He replied, his voice carrying a faint tinge of sorrow. ‘This ship means a lot to me, more than anyone can imagine’ he finished, grinding his teeth in his mouth as he finished.
River continued to look up at him, her face still conveying the worry she felt slowly rising in her gut. ‘Why this one? Over all the others?’ she asked quickly, pausing briefly before continuing ‘Have you seen this one before?’. Her question received a small nod from Plumb, who continued to look out into the bay.
‘Yes’ he said, his voice steady, ‘This ship, designation YK-855 and I have met before. We met in battle, at BK4-YC’ he finished, pronouncing the system name with emphasis. He turned towards her, looking into her eyes as he continued ‘This ship is a link to that past, to the events of that day’ he said. His voice had started to shake, the saddness welling up within him. ‘I cannot allow this fear, sorrow and anger to dominate my life anymore’.
This latest revelation seemed to stun River, who looked up at him with a distinct look of shock. Her eyes flitted across his face, her gaze shifting between his eyes quickly. ‘Andrastus, get rid of that ship! Now! You cant have it here, gods dammit! Remember the last time you flew one?!’ Her voice had started to rise, sounding almost like she was begging. ‘You have spent the last two years trying to hide your suffering from me, but I know it is there. You go to bed for 16 hours and yet when you leave your quarters the next day you look worse than when you entered them the night before. Mortis has told me about the nightmares, Andrastus. Having that ship here wont solve anything!’ She placed both her hands on his chest, tears appearing in her eyes.
‘I... I can’t, I need to do this, not just for me, but for all the others, those who didn’t come home’ he said, looking back out at the ship.
‘You don’t serve them by mentally destroying yourself! Please, I beg of you, get rid of that ship!’ she paused for a second before saying ‘Look, Andrastus.... I know it is hard for you, I can only imagine what it must have been like, I wasn’t there afterall, but-‘ She was cut short. Plumb had whirled around to face her, moving up against her and staring down into her face.
‘EXACTLY!’ He shouted, rage arising from nowhere, consuming him, ‘You WERENT there! You have no idea what it was like! They killed my brothers, my sisters, people I had KNOWN and SERVED WITH for EIGHT YEARS! Ejected from airlocks, hacked into pieces, shot into mist or dragged away to be turned into more of those INFERNAL... THINGS!’ He shouted, his anger now fully controlling him. River started to back away, her eyes full of fear as she watched her closest friend tear himself apart. ‘I owe it to them, Miss T’Urell’, The use of her last name in such a formal tone hurting her more. He only addressed her like that when he was angry or upset with her. ‘I owe it to Pierre, vented into space when the Sansha drones overran the auxiliary damage control. I owe it to Marie, cut into pieces by a mob of mindless, evil killers! I owe it to Jaque, frak it I owe it to all them’. He managed to finally bring his anger under control, closing his eyes and taking long, deep breaths. He looked away from her, steadying himself against the reinforced glass of the viewing port as he calmed down.
‘Im sorry, I...’ he paused again, continuing to breathe heavily. ‘I can’t get rid of it, I need it. Study thine enemy. I cannot allow it to happen again, I wont allow it to happen again. We lost that battle because we failed to face facts, we failed to study the Sansha threat before blindly marching into their space’. He turned to face her, his eyes red and swollen from the emotion within him. ‘I need this ship so I can study them, know them. we made the mistake of not studying them 5 years ago. We made the mistake of underestimating a foe that has grown steadily stronger in our complacency. But it wont happen again, River, not on my watch. There will not be another BK4’.
Marshalling the Fleet
Plumb is stood on the upper docking gantry of his large private hangar, holding a datapad under one arm. Sprawled across the hangar are numerous starships of varying classes, all in varying states of readiness. Unassembled starship components are piled high aboard grav lifts floating in the zero gravity, while assembly drones can be seen moving weapons and modules from a hidden storage area to the various ships. His carrier, too large to be docked within the station, is moored to an external docking sleeve underneath the station and thus out of sight. The camera drone is positioned above the gantry, looking over his shoulder into the bay beyond.
‘Personal Log, 14th August 111 YC. River returned earlier this week with a veritable treasure trove of modules and material, stashed in Daras of all places. Among the more valuable items are a Rook class Combat Recon Ship, and a raven battleship, the same ship that i flew in the battle of 1IX against the Razor alliance and destroyed Shizah's Erebus class Titan in.’
He pauses, looking out again over his hangar. A maintenance drone flies low over the gantry with a mass of cabling and electro circuitry clutched in it’s holding claws. The drone arks away towards a ship of Caldari design in the forefront of the hangar, slowing as it approaches. Plumb looks down at the ship, smiling slightly.
‘I recently constructed a Tengu class Strategic Assault Cruiser, modified for covert operations. It is a brilliant piece of engineering, far superior to any battleship I have ever flown. I have yet to take her into combat properly, although that will soon change. I believe that-‘
He is interrupted by the sound of footsteps clanging heavily on the gantry somewhere off screen. He turns in the direction of the footsteps, an unusually warm smile spreading across his face. A young Khanid woman appears on screen dressed in loose fitting overalls. She wears her long brown hair loose, flowing over her shoulders and down the small of her back.
‘Ah, River. Thank you very much for making the journey to Daras. In all honesty id forgotten I had all that stuff lying around’ The woman smiles and walks over to the edge of the gantry, leaning forward against the safety rail and looking out across the hangar
‘Oh don’t thank me, it is my job after all!’
She smiles again, resting a hand on Plumb’s arm.
‘So, how many ships do you have here now?’
Plumb cocks his head to one side, laughing slightly as he does so.
‘Its certainly an impressive fleet, at last count worth approximately 3 billion isk'
A list of ships appear on the screen, with types varying from Frigate to his flagship, the Silent Angel.
Plumb takes one last look out across the bay before taking his hands off the rail and offering his arm to the woman.
‘Enough sightseeing for today. Shall we?’
She takes his arm and they walk off screen, the camera drone deactivating soon after.
‘Personal Log, 14th August 111 YC. River returned earlier this week with a veritable treasure trove of modules and material, stashed in Daras of all places. Among the more valuable items are a Rook class Combat Recon Ship, and a raven battleship, the same ship that i flew in the battle of 1IX against the Razor alliance and destroyed Shizah's Erebus class Titan in.’
He pauses, looking out again over his hangar. A maintenance drone flies low over the gantry with a mass of cabling and electro circuitry clutched in it’s holding claws. The drone arks away towards a ship of Caldari design in the forefront of the hangar, slowing as it approaches. Plumb looks down at the ship, smiling slightly.
‘I recently constructed a Tengu class Strategic Assault Cruiser, modified for covert operations. It is a brilliant piece of engineering, far superior to any battleship I have ever flown. I have yet to take her into combat properly, although that will soon change. I believe that-‘
He is interrupted by the sound of footsteps clanging heavily on the gantry somewhere off screen. He turns in the direction of the footsteps, an unusually warm smile spreading across his face. A young Khanid woman appears on screen dressed in loose fitting overalls. She wears her long brown hair loose, flowing over her shoulders and down the small of her back.
‘Ah, River. Thank you very much for making the journey to Daras. In all honesty id forgotten I had all that stuff lying around’ The woman smiles and walks over to the edge of the gantry, leaning forward against the safety rail and looking out across the hangar
‘Oh don’t thank me, it is my job after all!’
She smiles again, resting a hand on Plumb’s arm.
‘So, how many ships do you have here now?’
Plumb cocks his head to one side, laughing slightly as he does so.
‘Its certainly an impressive fleet, at last count worth approximately 3 billion isk'
A list of ships appear on the screen, with types varying from Frigate to his flagship, the Silent Angel.
Plumb takes one last look out across the bay before taking his hands off the rail and offering his arm to the woman.
‘Enough sightseeing for today. Shall we?’
She takes his arm and they walk off screen, the camera drone deactivating soon after.
Wednesday 15 July 2009
Nightmares
‘All hands to battlestations, this is not a drill. Marine fireteams report immediately to Starboard landing bay sections K1 through K9’ Confusion. Fear. ‘Repeat, all hands man battlestations, Marine fireteams report immediately to starboard landing bay’.
The Nightmares were often nightly occurrences. They had been ever since that fateful day, and Andrastus knew that they would likely remain so long into the future. The dreams were so vivid, he felt that he was there again, back onboard the Wandering Saint when everything went to hell and his world ended.
‘All hands, this is Admiral Noir. We have been boarded by multiple hostiles, enemy numbers are being confirmed. All marine fireteams proceed immediately to the starboard hangar deck. Boarders are to be repelled at all costs.’
The same messages and images replayed themselves again and again, the fear as potent and tangible as it had been 5 years ago. He could see so clearly the faces of his fellow Firbolg pilots as they waited in the cramped squadron ready room, confused and uncertain. Crump. The lighting in the room flickers, the power supply disrupted by whatever punishment the ship was taking. How? Where the feth had they come from? His patrol had just returned, combat had been fierce but the enemy had been driven off.... or so it seemed. Andrastus felt his gut tighten into a knot as dread washed over him. The power fluctuated again, another Crump reverberating through the ship. The intercom sounded yet again, delivering a message that would haunt his every sleeping and waking moment for years to come.
‘This is the Admiral, Sansha True Slaves have taken control of the starboard landing bay. We can confirm at least a thousand hostiles are now onboard this ship. They must be stopped. All hands report to ship’s armouries and prepare to repel boarders’.
The Nightmares were often nightly occurrences. They had been ever since that fateful day, and Andrastus knew that they would likely remain so long into the future. The dreams were so vivid, he felt that he was there again, back onboard the Wandering Saint when everything went to hell and his world ended.
‘All hands, this is Admiral Noir. We have been boarded by multiple hostiles, enemy numbers are being confirmed. All marine fireteams proceed immediately to the starboard hangar deck. Boarders are to be repelled at all costs.’
The same messages and images replayed themselves again and again, the fear as potent and tangible as it had been 5 years ago. He could see so clearly the faces of his fellow Firbolg pilots as they waited in the cramped squadron ready room, confused and uncertain. Crump. The lighting in the room flickers, the power supply disrupted by whatever punishment the ship was taking. How? Where the feth had they come from? His patrol had just returned, combat had been fierce but the enemy had been driven off.... or so it seemed. Andrastus felt his gut tighten into a knot as dread washed over him. The power fluctuated again, another Crump reverberating through the ship. The intercom sounded yet again, delivering a message that would haunt his every sleeping and waking moment for years to come.
‘This is the Admiral, Sansha True Slaves have taken control of the starboard landing bay. We can confirm at least a thousand hostiles are now onboard this ship. They must be stopped. All hands report to ship’s armouries and prepare to repel boarders’.
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