Jedziah sat behind her desk, scanning over her datapad and the hardcopy sheets scattered around her desk one more time. As a Director of The Bastards Pirate Alliance, she wanted to be sure she had all the information she could on today’s subject, Colonel Roc Wieler. She had known he had been coming, in fact it was she whom had personally signed his “Bastards Pass” allowing him high standing with their Alliance. Basically, he wouldn’t be shot on sight. Mynxee had presented her initial argument of why it would be profitable to work with this militia officer, and Jedziah had let the promise of easy pickings blind her judgement. 

Now, as she went over the report, she couldn’t help but wonder if there was more to this man than met the eye. She had pulled the AI recording from Mynxee’s neural implant. She would’ve taken the data from the pod, or even from the Jaguar class assault frigate, but both had been destroyed. Mynxee’s debriefing report had stated she had  lured and opened fire on Roc Wieler when he arrived in Evati, testing him to see if he lived up to the hype, and he had reduced her to minimal structure, and quickly. It then states that they talked and laughed, and she got sloppy, being scanned down by three superior vessels for that engagement, which had easily reduced her and her ship to slag.

It wasn’t that Jedziah contested the report. It what wasn’t in the report that bothered her. Where had Roc Wieler been when Mynxee got attacked? He was conviently in warp on his way back to a local station. It just didn’t sit well with her. She wasn’t prone to believe in coincidences, good or bad. How was she to believe that this Colonel hadn’t setup one of her pilots? For all they knew, it was he that had given up Mynxee’s coordinates, allowing other pirates to quickly track and destroy her. Or those pirates may have been a non-descript militia escort. Jedziah wouldn’t put it past him. Sure, it wasn’t common for a militia man to conduct himself in such a way, but then again, here he was working with pirates in lowsec to begin with. 

There were too many unanswered questions. 

The chime to her office door sounded, and Jedziah ushered Mynxee in. Mynxee sat across from the desk, a look of eternal fire smoldering in her grey eyes, her posture straight, bordering on cocky, but proper and refined moreso than any other woman she knew. She respected Mynxee. That’s what made this all the more difficult.

“I’m considering grounding you.” Jedziah said.

“I’m sorry, mommy. I won’t do it again.” Mynxee replied without missing a beat, a mischevious smirk on her face.

“I’m serious, Mynx.” Jedziah continued. “I think you may have lost your objectivity recently. You’re like a teenaged girl with some crush. It’s not becoming of you.”

Mynxee’s expression turned from one of playful disrespect to one of outright indignation, the fire in her eyes only increasing. Even before Mynxee lashed out at her, Jedziah knew this conversation would be explosive. “Who are YOU to tell me I’ve lost objectivity, Jed? Where’s your head been at the last few weeks? Nobody else seems to know, and you don’t seem to want to share. So I tell you what, dear. You get your shit together then you can talk to me about mine.”

Mynxee stormed out of Jedziah’s office a dark and swirling storm cloud. Jedziah had thought it unlikely the conversation would go well. She was becoming discouraged about so many things recently. But what could she do really? The relationship they all shared was co-dependent, but in a healthy way. They all needed each other to survive and thrive. They were loosely akin to a family, working towards a common goal in this pocket of the universe. But was it really a common goal? She doubted that lately. Everyone seemed to have their own agenda at the front of their mind, often pushing everything else to the side, even corporate and alliance responsibilities. It was simply wearing her down. 

Mynxee was right, though she was a bit of a bitch about it. Jedziah had been distracted lately. There was a lot on her mind; a lot on her conscience. 

She leaned back in her chair, and stretched her arms behind her head. There were just so many things in her life that needed answers, and it seemed she was just always left with more questions.

Roc Wieler was just one more headache waiting to happen; a pain Jedziah didn’t want to be bothered with, but inevitably knew she would be.

OOC: Been sick the last few days, and finding it difficult to focus on writing, though I hope none of you have noticed. As such, brain is a little fuzzy right now, so writing something that’s been half-formed in my mind for a while.

—

I have many nightmares, about many things. It seems to be one of the many curses of being a pod pilot. The mind doesn’t forget the horrors of surviving multiple lifetimes. From torture, to sudden death, to lost love, to many other angsts, a capsuleer must learn to work through it all. Insanity is not as far fetched an idea as some would like to believe for the immortal life we lead. Some pod pilots I know don’t even question their insanity, which is generally the first indication that one is truly losing their touch with reality. I value my life; I enjoy my life; I fight for my life; life is the most precious gift anyone can enjoy.

—

I sat eagerly by the riverbank, fishing poles gathered in my small arms, anxiously awaiting Master Cho. We had gone fishing only a handful of times, and as I looked at the small rowboat tied to a post in front of me, my heart swelled with affection for my master. I enjoyed the peace and quiet. I enjoyed the personal time spent with such a powerful and busy man. I felt special that he found me worthy of his free time, as a man of his power and influence must not have a lot of free time to spare.

I had dug up the worms myself only this morning. There was something satisfying about working my hands into fresh, dark soil, unearthing the squirming worms within its fertile grasp. It felt good; it felt right. I was a part of the natural order, as surely as these worms were.

I looked down the riverbank, and saw Master Cho approaching. I waved emphatically with one arm, nearly losing hold of the precious fishing rods, but managed to keep them clasped against my chest, a fervent smile on my face as he drew closer. I didn’t always understand the man, but I was learning much from him; lessons I would cherish the rest of my life. His wisdom beggared description.

I untethered the small wooden rowboat once he was seated, and took the oars in hand, rowing us out to the center of this small and serene lake. It was still early in the morning, and the sun had only just begun to rise. It promised to be a hot day ahead. We never spoke much during our fishing trips, and when we did, it felt warm and friendly. He really cared about me, and was patient with me as I grew in understanding.

Our lines had sat in the water for a good fifteen minutes before I felt the first nibble. I quickly reeled my line in; a little too excitedly, as the fish that had tested the bait wasn’t on the end of my line. I replaced my worm, and tried again.

Master Cho managed to catch a couple of small fish, which he released back into the water, while I was left with nothing on my side of the boat. I decided to exercise patience this time, play with the fish, lure them into a false sense of safety, urging them to believe there was no danger presented from the meal within its reach. All they had to do was take a full bite, and they would know the joy of a satisfying meal. There!

I squealed slightly, feeling my line pull against me suddenly, strongly. I had to put my foot against the side of the boat, the sudden yanking on my arms threatening to pull the rod from my grip. I must’ve caught a monster! I pulled on the line, trying to bring in the excess line, while letting it out in small intervals, so as not to snap it, or to let the gigantic fish get away.

I managed to get the line to the side of the boat, but was drained. I could see the size of the fish beside the boat. It was bigger than I had dreamed, but I knew I would have trouble getting it in the boat myself. I also knew asking my master for help would be a failure, so I buckled down my grit, and heaved on the line. The boat rocked back and forth, as I fought to lift this massive fish out of its element. I had it out of the water, almost threatening to capsize us in the process, when the line snapped, and the fish disappeared back into the murky depths. The backlash sent me flying against Master Cho, and my foot kicked up, sending one of the oars into the water.

Master Cho steadied me, a frown upon his face, and I flushed with embarassment. I immediately scanned around to find the lost oar, which ordinarily floated, but this one had a heavy metal rung to secure it to the boat, and had apparently sank, as did my heart.

“Lean over the boat and see if you can get a view of where it may have sank to.” Master Cho said. I propped my arms on the side of our small boat, and peered over into the water.

Suddenly, I felt a vise like grip on my neck, and my head was plunged below the water’s surface. The air escaped my lungs in shock, and I struggled in vain against the iron grip of my master. My first thought was of outrage! It was only an oar! It was only a fish! Why was he getting so angry? I flailed around, my arms reaching back to try to free myself from his arm, to escape this watery grave. My lungs started filling with water.

He yanked me above the surface. I was about to yell my defiance at him, when I was plunged beneath the water again, barely able to collect half a lungful of air before being surrounded again by a watery tomb. I thrashed as mightily as my small frame would allow, but there was no escaping the finality of my master’s grip. Water slid into my lungs. I cursed him silently, screaming into the water, air bubbles rising to the surface. It was just a stupid oar!

I was pulled up once again. I turned, the dark fury in my eyes piercing daggers of death and hatred towards him. I still couldn’t breath, my lungs full of water. I sat there, coughing up fluid, trying to bring my emotions into words against him, but could not. Then, I was driven beneath the water again, by his same unrelenting grip.

There was nothing I could do stop it. There was no way I could overpower this man. I was going to die. I didn’t want to die. I didn’t want it to end like this. What a stupid death it would be! I found new reserves of strength, and fought back once more. It was still to no avail, but I didn’t stop fighting. He wasn’t letting me back up this time. He meant to kill me. Panic aided my attempts to free myself, and my kicking and punching became even more emphatic. I knew my lungs were no good to me anymore, as I saw the corners of my vision begin to darken. I felt sleepy. I would not succumb. I would not give up. I directed all my energy into a final violent burst, yet still I remained beneath the water’s surface.

And then, I was gasping air, while puking up water all over the boat. Master Cho released me, and sat across from me, his arms at his sides, a neutral and placid expression on his face. My chest rose and fell with the exertion of breathing in fresh breaths, but I glared death at him while I recovered. I had my words ready, my mind stringing them together in the most obscene string possible. I continued spitting up water while drawing in breath, biding my time until I was ready to unleash verbal punishment towards him.

Finally, as I was about to speak, he held up his hand, palm outwards, and spoke. “When you seek truth as passionately as you just sought life, then you will understand today’s lesson.”

What?!? Was he really trying to justify this? Was he really sitting there, holier than thou, expecting me to buy his line of dung? When I seek truth as I have sought life… what kind of crap was that?

Then, against all the rage threatening to boil over within me, it clicked and made sense. Dammit. He made sense. He never planned on killing me, but to teach me this lesson I had to believe his sincerity. I had to crave life. I had to crave and appreciate each breath I was taking. Dammit. Why did he have to make sense?

My anger diffused. I knew he was referring to God when he spoke of truth, but that wasn’t the path for me. God was not the greater truth of life, certainly not the Amarr God. Still, the lesson itself was valuable.

I rowed us back to the shore with one paddle, and Master Cho departed without so much as a goodbye, leaving me to finish up on my own.

—

Truth greater than life was just one more reason I joined the militia. The Amarr needed to learn truth. The Amarr needed to understand that nobody deserved enslavement. The Amarr needed to learn that they died just as easily as anyone else; that their God would not save them. I would be the bearer of truth to the Amarr, and my message would be delivered with the weapons of war.

I have been wickedly thorough in delivering this message to them, again and again and again. Thanks Cho, may your corpse rot in hell.

EVATI
MINMATAR INSTALLATION

“Four minutes left.” Roc said over the fleet channel. Jedziah and Hallan Turrek, both pirates of the Bastards alliance, the main operating force in Evati, were covering the entry beacon to this factional complex. Being outlaws, if they came within range of the defending Republic Militia Battleships, they would be fired upon. Roc, being a Colonel, could do his job, securing the complex against the Amarr. He had docked with the installation sixteen minutes prior, his engineers debarking into the facility to perform their task.  So far, it had been a quiet excursion.

“Got incoming on scan.” Hallan said over the comm. “Rupture class. Is it a war target Roc?” A war target is what any militia pilot called a pilot of the opposing faction. In the case of the Minmatar, war targets would be the cursed Amarr, and their allies the Caldari.

“Negative, it’s a neut.” replied Roc. Neutrals, pirates, scavengers, whatever you wanted to call them, they were all the same; trouble. The Rupture immediately engaged the two on the beacon, which was over eighty kilometres from the military installation.

“Taking heavy fire.” Hallan blared into fleet comms. “Pull to range, Hal. I can tank this a bit.” That would be Jedziah, one of the Directors of the Bastards. Having convinced her to come on this little test flight was a stroke of pure luck. If she enjoyed the adrenaline rush of warfare, perhaps her voice would be influential to the rest of the Bastards. That was Roc’s motive afterall. Why let loyal Minmatar die on a regular basis to these very same pirates, when instead he could convince them  to fight in the war, killing Amarr or perhaps themselves dying. Either way, it was a win for the Republic.

“Could use some help here, Roc. ” Hallan said anxiously into the fleet channel. Two minutes left for the engineers in the installation. Roc did a quick scan of his fleet overview. They wouldn’t last another two minutes. His duty came first and foremost; secure the complex for the Republic. At the same time, he needed the longterm support of the pirates in this region. If they couldn’t trust him to be there in a fight, what support and confidence was he likely to get?

Roc sighed, and disengaged the docking tube, aligning his Jaguar rapidly to the engagment eighty kilometers away. The Jaguar was a bit unresponsive as he had no crew. It was just him and the machine.

“I’m done.” Hallan cursed into comms, moments before his ship exploded. It was impossible to determine in the bright flash if his pod had managed to escape. Jedziah was fading fast as well, and Roc was still forty kilometres away.

“You coming today, Roc?” she screamed.

“Almost there, Jed.” Roc said casually. He knew he wouldn’t make it in time. He wasn’t even sure if he should engage at this point. He didn’t have much chance against a Rupture class cruiser, obviously armour tanked. He sighed again. He needed the help of the Bastards. There was no two ways about it.

“I’m not gonna be able …” Jedziah screamed into fleet channel before exploding in a brilliant display of metal and fire. Roc was in range, and locked onto the enemy cruiser, opening up with his autocannons and rockets. The Rupture returned fire, as well as webbing and scramming the Jaguar.

It was immediately obvious what the outcome of this engagement would be, and they both knew it.

Roc turned his ship, and tried to get out of range of the Rupture. If he could get out of webbing range, he could probably hold the Rupture at distance long enough for reinforcements to arrive, IF reinforcements were coming.

He quickly found out what the Bastards were like in this regard. “Sunuvafuck!” That was Hallan. “I’m omw back now. Hold him tight.” Jedziah also made her intention clear that she would be coming back to seek vengeance upon this cruiser.

Unfortunately, Roc couldn’t keep distance. His armour was peeled away, then the very structure of his ship. He gave a quick thought to the engineers stranded on the installation, knowing their air supply wouldn’t last more than an hour, and then everything went white.

Immediately, he commanded his pod to warp, and it responded smoothly. Within minutes his pod was being inserted into his backup ship, the Republic fleet Firetail known as Renegade. It wasn’t much, but it was all he had brought with him.

Opening the fleet channel once again, Roc heard that the pirate in the Rupture had remained at the scene, and that this time Jedziah and Hallan were tearing him apart. Revenge was bittersweet.

Roc warped to the Minmatar installation, which was now secured for the Republic, and picked up the engineers. It was a tight squeeze in this ship, but it would at least get them all home.

From the followup conversation between the three of them, Roc, Jedziah, and Hallan, it was apparent that more than a simple victory had been accomplished that day. Colonel Roc Wieler of the Tribal Liberation Force, had begun to earn the trust of the Bastards.

RENS
BRUTOR TRIBE BUREAU

General Mako sat heavily behind his large mahogany desk. His mood was sour. The General was a patient and calculating man, but not one accustomed to being made to wait. He tapped his massive fingers against his desk, a scowl on his face, as he continued to wait. He was a mountain of a man, standing at 6’8″, with a shoulder span of nearly three and a half feet. He was solid, through and through, with a healthy layer of body fat covering his strong muscles. He was also a second echelon Blademaster, an accomplishment that would leave nearly any Brutor gaping in awe. Yet he was more than strength of body, will and purpose. He was crafty. He was enduring. 

To look at him one would think him in his early fifties. Truth be told, he was quickly approaching his nineties. He had served the Republic his entire life. He had watched how things from within, as well as without, had changed over the decades, and never for the better, in his opinion. And it was his opinion that carried weight with those that mattered. Let Shakor engage in his pitiful “Heroes of the Republic” promotions. It was blatant nonsense. Heroes didn’t win wars; real heroes created them for profit. 

Mako had no interest in being in the public eye; his tasks were best performed from the shadows. He enjoyed watching his invisible orchestra perform, with him the master conductor stringing every note together. He knew the power and influence he held over many of the key players in the Republic. It had taken him a lifetime to achieve such standing.

And it was all because of Colonel Roc Wieler. 

He chuckled to himself at that. It wasn’t this arrogant pissant of the current war he referred to. That boy was green behind the ears, with not a wit about him. No, Mako was referring to the original Colonel Roc Wieler, a man he had served under briefly nearly three generations before. Mako was just a boy at the time, two years too young to enlist in the military, but due to his size even then, he was able to lie to gain admission. 

He chuckled at the memories. To say he learned much from Colonel Wieler was perhaps not entirely accurate. He had learned much in spite of Colonel Wieler. Looking back, the man was a buffoon. At the time, he was an idol to all those around him. That was one of the first lessons Mako had learned; Those who can’t do, stand in the spotlight. It made sense really. If you were too busy out doing, how would you have time to accept accolades from your peers? Militia life was about doing, not posturing. Posturing was done by weak men. Real power was achieved behind the scenes, and real power came from never letting others know who held the strings. 

The buzz of his comm unit pulled him out of his reverie. His contact was precisely 32 seconds late. He made a mental note of that as he answered the incoming call.

A female voice initiated the conversation. “He’s settled in Evati.”

“And you’ve made all the necessary arrangements for his brief stay?” Mako asked, his voice sweet as honey.

“I have. Everything is in place.” said the female through the comm.

Mako disconnected the conversation without a farewell. For the amount he was paying her, every word cost. He leaned back, sinking into his luxuriously cushioned leather chair, resting his hands on his stomach, noticing it was a little larger than only a few months ago. He would have to do something about that. 

Roc Wieler stood in the spotlight. Roc Wieler was a dolt. He would tear Roc Wieler from his lofty pedestal, and profit from it immensely, both financially, and in power gain; for the glory of the Republic.

A faint hint of a smile crossed his lips. He loved betrayals.

FADE REGION
VANGUARD FRONTIERS BASE OPS

Sam was quickly running out of ideas, and for the first time in a long while, was distinctly aware of his own body odour. He had just spent another seventeen straight hours (and four cases of Quafe soda) trying to further his increasingly futile task of deciphering the mystery of the DNAC.

He had analyzed it many ways, and had enlisted the Aura AI to analyze it even more. He had been plugged in for most of those seventeen hours. “Plugging in” was the common term capsuleers used to describe interfacing with the Aura Neural Network. Aura was the standardized “personality” of all Artificial Constructs within New Eden. There were other customizable AI available, but they were not integrated into Aura directly; rather they were treated like any other outsider when dealing with Aura, that is to say, cordially and politely, but restricted in what they can access the same as would be a public citizen. Civilians could interface with the Aura network through digital terminals, or through subcutaneous implants, allowing them to direct their inquiries through thought instead of type. For capsuleers, interfacing took on an entirely different meaning. A long spike, nested in the end of a flexible, mechanical tentacle-like arm was the main component of most pilot’s pods. This spike would enter the base of the skull, merging the consciousness of the pilot with the matrix of the AI, whatever that may be. It would allow a capsuleer to “be” their ship, to control its functions as they would control themselves. It also allowed them a direct cerebral interface with the Aura network, allowing them to access data and information from across New Eden almost instantly. Even moreso, they could “experience” that information, for accelerated learning, within a virtual environment of their subconscious. These experiences were limited to facilitate learning only; anything else could prove fatal or maddening to the host, though there were conspiracy theories that the militaries still used Aura for experimental training on soldiers, though no tangible proof had ever surfaced. The bottom line was that no matter how good technology had become, the human mind could only sustain a set amount of stimuli at any one given time, and though that range had slight variance, it was better to err on the side of caution.

Sam headed for the shower. His own stench was actually getting to him. Maybe this was why his corpmates tended to keep their distance? His efforts had availed nothing from the obvious. The DNAC was organic. It stored trillions of bytes of data. He couldn’t narrow down what type of organic material it was. He hadn’t been able to access any of the data it contained. The artifact was truly that, a gem from an age long dead, with no records remaining as to its true nature; no manual he could peruse.

He stripped off his pyjamas, and within minutes was enjoying the hot steam embracing him tenderly. He had to figure this out, Roc was counting on him; and even moreso, he would not be beaten by a puzzle, it just wasn’t in him to surrender.

What could it possibly be? Sam’s mind was fatigued and near exhaustion. He had come at this puzzle from a thousand million different directions. He had performed every qualitative and quantitative test he had known on the device, and the only thing he knew for certain was the composition of the casing alloy. That didn’t really help. 

Or did it?

Struck with inspiration, Sam egressed from the shower, not bothering to turn it off, nor to put his pyjamas back on. He raced for his “plugin”, and soon was walking amongst the knowledge of New Eden, with Aura as his guide. His epiphany had been to narrow down his search by locating areas where that alloy occured naturally. Perhaps if the results were few enough, he could cross index them against historical databases referencing Terrans, and maybe find a lead! In his gut, he knew he was on to something.

Unfortunately, Aura disagreed. There was no known location of this alloy forming naturally within the New Eden public archives. He pursued the issue more, urging Aura to access non civilian databases, but she flatly, yet politely, refused. Insufficient clearance. 

Sam unplugged and cursed himself. He knew the answer was close. And he knew what he would have to do to obtain it. He shuffled to a nearby workspace, feeling a slight breeze on his hairy genitals, and pulled up a stool to sit on. He entered in his encrypted password on the terminal in front of him, and loaded the initialization program for Nora.

Nora, which was short for NULL – Aura, was another project Sam had developed years ago, but was rejected as 100% of the test subjects went mad when using it. Whereas when one used Aura, and was limited to interfacing with that single AI entity, and was fed information in sequential order, Nora removed those restrictions. A user was bombarded with multiple streams of information from every AI construct within New Eden. And whereas using Aura was like surfing this net of information, Nora was more like drowning under its crashing waves. 

Sam took a deep breath, and once the program had run self diagnostics, plugged in. He was immediately overwhelmed with information, but steeled his will against the machine, and began swimming through the morass of data. 

Seconds turned into minutes, and minutes turned into madness. Sam sat there at his desk, naked, his eyes wide, his pupils small, with an unnatural grin on his face, spittle making its way down his chin from the corner of his mouth. He was being consumed by the machine, but would not yield. He was losing his mind, but would not stop. 

He would find this answer, or he would die trying.