Wednesday, November 30, 2016

Revenant: Behind the Scenes

Submitted as an addition to my 'Revenant' episodic series on April 13, 2015. 



Whew! Man, the amount of research and questions I had to ask to make sure I did this right. Was -ridiculous-.

At any rate, so, I wanted to post this episode about a week ago but decided to hold off while I consolidated feedback from several sources. None more important than CCP Falcon who graciously accepted my request to go over it and check for lore inconsistencies. I didn't think I had any because the story is so vague and doesn't really reference any hard-core, set-in-stone bits of the lore, but I'm glad to have gotten his seal of approval, not to mention his interest in future parts!

Character design was honestly the hardest part for me because I wanted enough characters to offer a lot of depth to the story but I didn't want to overload the reader right from the first Episode. So, the three main characters (four if you include BOOZER) aren't all that are in the story, just enough that mattered in the first chapter.

I wound up spending an entire weekend at work just screwing around and fleshing out each character and going over their stories in my head. I have a binder hidden away somewhere in my bedroom containing all of their descriptions, their histories, etc. I -REALLY- hope that they are interesting and lovable enough that it was worth all the effort =P

On the topic of character design, I even took some time to make what I imagine the characters to look like in Eve's character creator, barring some inconsistencies like Pontrovol's long hair since it's not an option in the char-gen =X

Chamilie Ettivala

 Pontrovol "Tricks" Ranchin

 Balris Aginghes

I probably spent the next huge amount of effort just getting the opening right. A lot of weight goes into the first chapter but the first sentence is the make or break. A person can lose interest all together with the first sentence so I wanted to get that done correctly. As such, I decided to flash forward from a scene -MUCH- later on in the story and open with a bang, enveloping the reader in mystery as to what the hell got her into that place. 

Of course, this is my nature, considering that it's how I opened up in -both- of my fan fiction submissions for the Pod and Planet Fiction Contests, one in 2012 and the other last year in 2014. It's sort of a running theme for me and I think it's worked out really well so far. 

The idea behind the story is to show the readers what's going on in Esesier in a new light with a chosen demographic being Eve Online players. Maybe not so much players who are hard-core lore nerds but just players in general. I filled the story and timeline with a lot of drama, tension, thrills, and action to keep the reader entertained but at the same time I'm not going to gloss over specific bits with exposition. This is mostly because I really hate exposition and I want the readers to truly be shown what is happening instead of just being told. 

At the same time, I really wanted to show the players that their actions matter in an indirect way. I tried to keep the story as close to reality as possible when it comes to the Eve universe and even went so far as to find the temperature of the planet the story takes place on and convey that in the first episode (it's cold as shit by the way!). Further more I even took a look at how many moons that planet has, what the general size of it is, etc. 

Beyond that though I even went ahead and looked at the Occupancy history of the system! I plan on including that in a more direct way in the future but it's a -critical- theme in the story series as a whole as Capsuleers and the Empires warring over the system and the planets as a whole goes a long way toward antagonizing the local populace. I've always sort of wondered why the people in these places were always so black/white (or in this case, Green/Blue) in their loyalties and never stood up to either faction. 

At any rate, that's all I have for this little behind the scenes bit! Be sure to stay tuned and check out the next episode, it's gonna get -crazy- :D 

Revenant

Submitted as a personal Eve Online fan fiction intended as an episodic series on April 13, 2015. I don't intend to ever finish this one, as integral parts of it were blended into another story later on, though I may actually do so if the inspiration strikes me.  






“Even after all of this, he can’t look me in the eyes.”

Chamilie Ettivala stared out across the luxurious, sterile office space through a green, hazy liquid and slate glass at the Gallentean admiral settled quietly in his seat. The sound, already an eerie silence, further muffled. Only the sound of her breathing filled the void. For a brief moment, the man lifted his gaze to her, only to immediately turn away and re-focus his attentions on the data-pad in his hand. The man swiveled in his chair to face the window, the decorative back of his seat facing her.

For the while her only solace, apart from the persistence of her own willpower, was the luxurious sight of the Decon Fronds spreading their petals to the morning light shining through the window in thick rays. Dust particles swayed through the beams, reflecting in soft, brief shimmers. The sight of the flowers blooming was a daily gift that reminded her of the delicate plant’s inherent beauty. More morbidly, it reminded her of vaguely of how long she had been in her prison.

The admiral stood and walked across the room. He waved his hand gently over a brightly lit pad on the wall. Soon after, the metal shutters of her glass box began to close, cutting off all sight to the outside world. In total darkness, she now could only hear the bubbles rising from the base of her rebreather that loudly pulsed in rhythmic pattern. 

Once again, she was left with only her thoughts and memories.


#


Region      Constellation System
Placid Amevync Esesier

YC 115 (Late Prevernal)

Recessed lights ignited along the bottom of the bedroom walls in straight, solitary beams that illuminated the tan and black metal panel surfaces. The dimly lit orange lights cast over the room in an eerie fashion. Coalescing with the lights was a unique soothing experience provided by pre-programmed glows beneath the floor panels in the form of preset patterns of orange waves. It was not unlike the nebulous dance of light shining through water at the base of a pool. 

An almost ear piercing chirp screamed from the bedside table of Chamilie Ettivala, who lazily extended her arm and slapped at the source until the noise ceased. The woman rolled upward with her thin blankets draped around a single shoulder, her messy raven hair disheveled. Her silver eyes groggily trailed over the room with a certain look of disdain.

The woman realized fully that she was awake to begin her usual work ritual and without wasting time began to lift her feet to action. Each soft, fleshy patter of her bare feet rang out in the room with a gentle echo. The same dim orange lighting rippled around each foot in aesthetic display. She gave a wave of her hand over a panel recessed into the wall that caused a holographic display to show, providing several options of food recipes. Though limited in scope she found one to her liking and selected it. In response, the projection greeted her with a flashing red and black striped overlay.

“What?” She muttered, tiredly as her eyes trailed over the projection with a newly found alertness. 

She searched with weary intent for the reason behind the error and quickly found a set of yellow characters that explained the predicament: “INSUFFICIENT FUNDS”. Ettivala lifted her hand and placed it to the side of her head with a groan, shaking her head. She began to cover her naked body with a tan jumpsuit, complete with a “LAI DAI” logo on the shoulder. 

As she approached the door leading out of her small apartment a scanner traced over her body with a series of lasers before making a three-tone sound. A computer generated phrase followed:

“Lai Dai thanks you for your service. Have a safe work experience!”

As if by sheer instinct, Ettivala rolled her eyes and continued out of the apartment and into the hall where other workers – similarly dressed in their uniforms – began to leave their assigned quarters and make their way toward an industrial lift. 

She stood among her co-workers, giving a double take toward a scruffy looking man at the back of the lift. The word ‘PONTROVOL’ written across his shoulder further emphasized her familiarity with him, which she used as a target of her elbow to gently nudge the man and gain his attention. 

The man turned toward her with a smirk crossing over his features, showing a set of pearly white teeth beneath the thick reddish-brown stubble of several days past shaving. The man’s long hair was tied back into a ponytail, neatly, and freshly washed. His green eyes almost shimmered as they glanced about aimlessly.

“Hey, Tricks, you have any issues getting breakfast this morning? Mine said that I’m broke.” Ettivala inquired softly, just loud enough to be heard over the lift’s gears cranking.

“Hmm, no – no problems on my end; got my usual. Insufficient funds, huh? That is a real kicker. Don’t you get paid more than the rest of us?” Pontrovol responded, his green eyes focusing on the shadows of each floor the open-faced lift had passed.

“Hardly, you remember a few months ago when they offered me that promotion? I turned it down. They gave me the promotion anyway – got all the responsibilities, just none of the pay. Apparently that went to some new hotshot working supervision.”

“I wouldn’t worry too much, Millie, we’re likely all going to be looking for another job soon anyway. I hear the warzone is moving a bit closer to Esesier these days and you know how Corporate likes to cut their losses and lay everyone off before that happens – especially those of us who were Federation citizens. It’s sort of like unpaid vacation when you really think about it!” 

“Sure. Cut us loose; still charge us for the room and board. Listen, I’m going to run to the bank and figure out what this is all about before I head up there. Try to stall the boss for me?”

“Will do.”


#


The Planet of Esesier VIII, locally known as Calcadia, was generally very cold for a temperate planet. Due to this, Livestock and subsequent agriculture wasn't as high as many other temperate worlds but the planet was well known for what it did provide. Main exports consisted primarily of explosives manufacture, garnished by the production of military grade weapons along with other designs primarily for infantry use. 

Each district contributed to one another through vast traffic lanes. Outside of industrial expansion, the planet had a ripe cultural significance for it's constellation and was well known for the production of arts blending Caldari and Gallentean themes. This had changed as the war was brought closer to the planet in the dead-end system. 

The Cepsa District was reputably the most industrious with a heavy degree of manufacture going toward Capsuleer and Empire interests alike. The Lai Dai Corporation still maintained a presence in some of the districts that were controlled by State Peacekeeper forces, having owned the development rights to the planet since the auction over occupied systems concluded. Even though the Federal Defense Union had thoroughly secured the space above, the Lai Dai Corporation would continue development until the very last opportunity to leave, as they always had.

The district was lightly populated as many had felt it necessary to leave with the constant state of flux between the two warring empires. The citizens who remained were either Federal citizens too stubborn to leave that had adapted or foreign workers from the Caldari State that had travelled in search of lucrative employment in the industrial sectors. 

Built in a circular fashion, the city was set inside a bowl-shaped valley between mountain ranges on all sides but the eastern edge where the ocean stretched as far as the eye could see. The center of the city were industrial refineries and manufacturing centers that were tightly condensed. High capacity residential buildings, such as the one where Ettivala and her companions had lived, bordered the outskirts of the city at the base of the mountains. Between the two different sectors were small businesses and grocers that provided needs and services, such as that of The Bank of Luminaire Vault’s planet-side establishment.

Ettivala briefly waited for the sliding glass door to open before entering the bank. Being directly connected the in-orbit station the system there was usually a slight delay in the transference of funds that was to be expected. Ettivala expected that this was the case and marched over toward the first employee she could sight. 

“Hey, listen, I don’t mean to barge in like-“ Ettivala began before being cut off by the employee.

“One moment please.”

“No, listen, I’m kind of i-“ 

“One moment – please.” 

“I’m late for work. Help me now and I’ll be out of your hair a lot faster, do you understand?” Ettivala finally mustered with a tinge of anger in her voice.

The bank resembled traditional Gallentean architecture with organic curves deliberate the building’s interior design. The air was fresh and cold, bearing a slight mint flavor that was otherwise unnoticeable if a person had not specifically been trying to find it. A corner of the main lobby was complete with a ‘Quafe’ vending machine though it seemed rarely used given its appearance.

Ettivala’s rushed demeanor clearly irritated the employee. The woman gave an exacerbating sigh and moved the holographic display to the side to address Ettivala directly.

“What can I do for you?” 

“I tried to get breakfast today and it said I had insufficient funds. I’d just like to know why and what I have to do to fix it.” Ettivala explained.

The employee shifted the holographic display in front of her once more and began to swipe her hand over it until she found Ettivala’s account. There was little hesitation in her response.

“You’re in the negative by about 389 Credits. Seems like a large sum of it went to the Lai Dai Corporation. You’ll need to pay off whatever it is you owe before your account is positive again, pending an overdraft fee of twenty-five credits and an additional five credits for every day that the fee is not paid.” The employee stated with a grumble, turning to look at Ettivala with a hardened stare.

“That’s impossible, I paid the rent already!” Ettivala responded emphatically.

“Ma’am, if you recall, you said that you would leave if I informed you why you had insufficient funds and what you had to do to solve it. If you would?” 

Ettivala shoved herself away from the counter with a shake of her head. She started toward the door when she began to feel a vibrating sensation on her wrist originating from the Lai Dai provided communicator. She briefly looked over the screen, aged and dusty from constant work in the fields, passed over several owners, and noticed that the message was from Pontrovol.

“Tried to stall him, Millie, but he’s in a particularly bad mood today… Look, uhh… You can stay at my place for a few nights but… Yeah. He said to leave the wristband in your quarters.” 

She could almost read his hesitation in the message itself but one thing was clear: she now found herself among the unemployed. For a moment she stood, silent. She tried to understand how the situation could have gotten so badly out of hand in what was still the morning. Sunlight peered over the crest of the mountains far past the edges of the Calcadia District. 

Ettivala ducked into a nearby alley upon leaving the building and slammed her back against the wall in defeat, sliding down its metal surface until she hit the ground. She buried her head into her hands and her shoulders began to heave, breaking down into a sob. She was well enough into the alley that no one would see her without specifically looking and this gave her a great degree of comfort to expel her emotions into one violent session. 

It was not until nightfall that she mustered the strength to return to the living quarters.


#


Ettivala arrived at Pontrovol's apartment just as the moonlight began to peer through the condensed alleyways of the outer city borders. She had weaned off the shakiness of her initial outburst even though her eyes were still puffy and red. Having dropped off everything that belonged to the Lai Dai Corporation she was clad in a black sleeveless shirt and pair of rugged pants lined with more pockets than seemed necessary; a fashion niche in the making. 

She gave a heavy sigh and waved her hand over the scanner embedded in the wall, looking up toward the top of the doorframe where the hidden camera system was installed. There was a brief pause before a soft three-tone sound rang out in unison with the door opening, a computerized voice speaking as Pontrovol was revealed. 

"Lai Dal thanks you for your se-se-service. Have a safe work experi-Have a safe work experience!" 

An awkward silence befell the two. Ettivala looked up at the source of the sound before looking back at the Ethnic Gallentean man with a raised, expectant brow. Pontrovol chuckled and rolled his shoulders in submission. 

"Technology to make a man immortal but we can't have a door greeting fixed and working proper the man stated with a humorous charm in his voice. 

I’m cold, Tricks. Let me in." 

The Gallentean let Ettivala into his apartment that was almost a mirror copy of her own prior to have to relinquish her lease on it. Apart from the few personal effects, there had been a single outstanding thing that had stood out about the room: A large drone situated uncomfortably in the corner between the wall and the foot of the bed. Ettivala recognized it immediately and gave a wave of her hand in acknowledgement. 

"BOOZER." She stated with a soft smile. 

The drone lifted with a flicker of lights across its carapace, almost as if it were a dog snapping to attention when hearing its name. The drone had a notable color scheme to it that was reminiscent of CreoDron manufacture with key differences in several panels that seemed to have minor differentiations in color and texture. Its overall structure was vaguely reminiscent of a Tristan class frigate with long mechanical tentacles extending from its rear that, for the moment, were coiled around its entirety in a waiting position. 

"He's had to be pretty quiet lately. Neighbors in the adjacent rooms are getting suspicious whenever I work on him." Pontrovol stated with a jut of his head in gesture to the drone's direction. 

"I can imagine. How've you managed to keep from being tracked down by CONCORD all this time anyway? I'm pretty sure CreoDron and CONCORD aren't too pleased with you for running off with experimental Al and modifying it to be -well somewhat sentient." Ettivala responded curiously.

In response to this, Pontrovol extended his hand behind the woman's ear and acted as though her were retrieving an item. The soft brush against her hair caused her to cringe and smile instinctively, trying to escape the ticklish sensation. The man rolled his hand in a flare of motion and presented it, palm up, with a small bluish-green flower that flickered gently before dissipating. A hologram. An age-old illusion that never seemed to die with the times. Ettivala felt a wash of flattery. 

"How do you think I got the moniker: Tricks?" Pontrovol "Tricks" asked, rhetorically. 

"Are you seriously explaining this away with space magic?" Ettivala inquired, scoffing. 

"What would the legend be without its mystery?" 

Ettivala stepped closer to the bed against the wall and sat against it, dragging her hand against the blankets gently. Her lips pulled with slight disgust as she felt small particulates of food, dirt, or any number of possibilities. She flicked her fingers to try to shake away the bits that stuck before looking up at him with a shake of her head.

“You definitely need a woman in your life, Tricks. That or someone to do some laundry once in a while.” She stated with a hint of humor in her voice.

“Oh, yeah? Well, you’re more than welcome to be that woman in my life.” 

“Uhhh – no, not happening.” Ettivala said with a smile, closing her legs against her clasped hands before looking away from the man.

“Whoa, what was that about? You find old Tricks that repulsive, eh?” 

“I’d ask how many diseases you were loaded down with but, what would the legend be without its mystery?” 

“Low blow, Millie, low blow.” Tricks said with a soft chuckle.

Tricks collapsed back into the bed with a heavy bounce that almost threw Ettivala onto the floor. He extended his arms upward and clasped his hands behind his head, staring at the orange wave-patterns that traced along the ceiling that glistened in his eyes. His lips pursed while his brows furrowed, deep in thought, before glancing at Ettivala.

“Something I didn’t really consider. You sleeping on the bed with me or on the floor with BOOZER over there?” 

“On the floor, over by the door in case I need to make a quick escape from a scruffy fugitive of the law who tries to make a move on me.” Ettivala said with a sharp jab at the man’s ribcage.

“Ahh! Well, fine by me, I’m not sacrificing my mattress though.” 

No sooner than Tricks made that statement did the loudspeaker flicker to life with a short chime of traditional Caldari patriotic music. A woman’s voice came on with an almost patronizing tone, like that of a customer service employee: insincere.

“Good evening, employees and contractors. As you all know, Federal Marines and State Peacekeepers have been combating one another in other districts for several months. As such, we have recently received information that the Federal Marines have gained extensive ground and are pushing Peacekeeper forces back to the Calcadia District. They are expected to be here within the next week.

Due to this, we would like to inform everyone that your safety is our greatest concern. On behalf of the Lai Dai Corporation, Esesier Division, this message is to notify all current employees and contractors that you are, until further notice, on unpaid leave.”

Tricks snapped upward like a mousetrap in response to the last few words, staring at the ceiling with wide eyes. The announcement ignited an uproar of yelling and screaming across the complex that could be heard through the walls. The volume of the loudspeaker continuing the announcement in the immediate room had been loud enough to drown out the protests. 

“Lai Dai wishes you luck in your endeavors but most of all we would like to express our deepest concerns toward your health and well-being. Despite this, all Lai Dai accounts are frozen until further notice in the eventuality of immediate necessity to protect corporate assets. 

All assets on loan to employees and contractors are to be left in your domiciles as the Lai Dai Corporation is retaining them until further notice. Please leave your wristbands on the bed and remove all personal effects from the premises. Thank you.” 

The sounds of dissent quickly began to spread to the halls as Ettivala and Tricks sat in silence. The drone began to stir in the corner and take itself closer to the door with its mechanical tentacles, lifting itself upward and placing a single synthetic limb against the door. After a brief moment, it twisted about and started over toward the bed where the two were with an erratic set of twitches. 

“It’s alright, BOOZER, just stay calm for a second, people are just scared.” Tricks explained, putting the drone at ease.

“So, it looks like everyone is in the same boat as I am now.” Ettivala stated, almost amused.

“Yeah, well, try not to say that to their faces. People need work and a lot of us were just scraping by as it were. We’re effectively unemployed and homeless now but I suppose that’s the downside with room and board being provided by your employer.” Tricks scoffed.

Ettivala lifted to a stand with a heavy sigh and crossed her arms beneath her breasts. She began to pace, idly, with her head low in thought. Tricks lifted as well but took a moment to remove his bracelet with a gentle rub against the red, imprinted skin from where the communicator had previously been. 

The man started over toward the recessed closet space and began to remove his things, tossing them atop of the drone, which seemed apathetic toward the menial task of carrying his belongings. As the two humans and single mechanical being gathered up belongings, they started toward the door. Ettivala glanced over her shoulder toward the man with a jut of her head in gesture.

“What are we going to do about BOOZER? You don’t think people will become a little anxious at the sight of a drone the size of a hound just roaming about?”

The drone, covered in clothes, began to retract its tentacles into its chassis, falling to the floor with a hard metallic thud. The lights began to flicker on its frame until dying out completely. Tricks extended a hand and grabbed ahold of an exposed handle on the back of the mechanical construct’s carapace, lifting it up like a tote bag with a grunt. His body noticeably leaned to one side with tensed muscles from the weight of the now dormant drone. Finally, Tricks covered the being with a large jacket, giving it rudimentary concealment. 

Ettivala raised a brow and slowly turned her head back to the door. With a wave of her only free hand over the recessed console, the door slid open and revealed the main corridor leading to the service lift. The hall had been packed to capacity with unemployed workers carrying their belongings any way they could. Some were more encumbered than others. Ettivala and Tricks, now carrying the majority of the man’s belongings, fell into line and boarded the service lift, observing the corridor of waiting individuals as they began their descent with the soft whir of grinding gears.


#


“What do you mean there are no jobs available? There has to be something.” Tricks inquired, his palm facing the ceiling with his brows lowered. 

“Sir, there really is nothing. All of the corporations are pulling assets and laying off workers because the warzone is moving closer to the city and the Capsuleers are relying mostly on automated workforces now. We simply have nothing available for new employees.” Replied the Taskforce Agent.

Ettivala kept to her seat in the lobby. She idly coiled a length of hair around her finger in repetition. As her eyes began to trail around the empty room, she dabbed her lips with her tongue to try to moisten them. She winced at the pain of her dry, split lower lip, swallowing a lump in her throat. 

“So how are we supposed to eat? Live?” Tricks continued in his protests

“Sir, there is nothing I can do, I can’t answer those questions and you know that.” 

“Then what are you doing here?! This is an unemployment office!” 

Ettivala began to shiver and reached into her satchel for her jacket. Covering herself with the ripped and torn garment, she glanced outside with a shake of her head at the sight of light snowfall that began to cast down over the street. The planet was naturally cold but the winter had run late into the year with a cold blast that stretched from the northern part of the continent. 

“Is there anything off world? On one of the stations, maybe?” 

“Unless you want to join the Federal Defense Union, no, there is nothing. The Bank of Luminaire Vault isn’t accepting new hires pending the recent surge in applications and even then, you can only work there with a positive balance – something many workers don’t have now. 

Ducia Foundry is looking for work but you’d be hard pressed to meet the qualifications for anything other than security and you’d need an extensive background and a willingness to work abroad.” The agent explained.

“What is considered ‘abroad’”? Tricks inquired.

“Lawless space. Which, at that rate, you might as well work on becoming a Capsuleer because you’ll probably fair a lot better.” The agent responded with a sardonic tone.
Tricks let his hands slide from the counter with a shake of his head and pivoted on his heel. As he headed for the door, Ettivala sprung up from the bench with her satchel in tow to follow him. The doors slid open and a gust of cold air hit them like a wall, both wincing from the frigid air that whipped their flesh. Tricks turned to Ettivala with narrowed eyes as he crossed his arms in an effort to stay warm.

“Millie, we’re going to die if we don’t find some kind of work...” 

“If we can’t find it, we’ll have to make it.” Ettivala responded.

“And just how do you plan to do that, dare I ask?” 

“Do what the corporations do; kill the competition.” 

Ettivala pointed to a poster fluttering in the cold air. A poster calling for an organized demonstration in the city center, right in the middle of the Industrial Sector. 


#


The protest was scant, much less than was expected from the general outcry that was seen in the reaction to the recent layoffs and about the Gallente - Caldari warzone as a whole. What was expected to be thousands only amounted to a few dozen, each with signs relating to how the war needed to end and Capsuleers needed to leave.

Among the group was Chamilie Ettivala, who bore her sign of protest as the most important thing in her life. The application of a handheld device the size of an apple amplified her voice not unlike a megaphone, as she exclaimed emphatically her demonstration. Pontrovol "Tricks" was nearby, taking a more passive role by handing out water bottles from a crate. 

“Our sons and daughters, brothers and sisters, die every day for a war that will never end! Empyreans extort their labor for expendable lives to service their ships! Life and liberty are a farce in the eyes of the Federation, who has lost sight individual freedom. Even the State, who is only interested in revenue! Who fights for we, those that would garnish either – that would accrue both!?” 

The proclamations echoed off the rusted walls of the market buildings, extending down the alleyways to homeless veterans – survivors, rather – that clung to life by the meager scraps left by charitable Samaritans. Many had visible scars, extensive burns, and other reminders of their time spent in the never-ending conflicts. Others had working cybernetics that were of ill condition, lacking serviceable maintenance over long durations. 

It could be argued that either of the factions did have their legitimate concerns but the evidence was quite the contrary. The sounds of distant shelling rang with gentle vibrations on the ground of the never-ending skirmishes that took place between Federal Marines, the State Peacekeepers, and their subsequent mercenary contractors. 

Among the protestors however were the unemployed both recent and long standing. These individuals had gathered but were only a fraction of the total number.

“I am like many of you; I’ve lost family in this war. I am all that is left of the Ettivala bloodline. After I am gone, there is nothing left. I’ve lost work, I’ve lost my home – I have nothing left, as do many of you. I vow to do whatever it takes to ensure your children never have to experience the sorrow, anguish, and loneliness I have felt.” Ettivala continued, focusing on her speech.

Among the crowd lifted, with resolve, a grizzled and wizened voice. The audience had dispersed and allowed Ettivala and the man to speak eye-to-eye despite some distance between them.

“Whatever it takes? Tell me, Miss Ettivala, are you willing to kill to back up those words?”

“Resorting to violence is a display of weakness; that one’s arguments and words aren’t enough to sway through logic and rationale whereas a savage, brutal swing of a sword would simply remove the arguer; an easy way out.” Ettivala responded at a normal volume, having lowered the amplifier to her hip.

“And how do you intend to prevent your enemy from doing that to you?”

The man was a hybrid Jin-Mei and Gallente, given the shape and form of his features. The lightly tinged accent was yet a prominent hint with each inflection of his words, suggesting that he originated from Luminaire. A patchy blonde beard seemed to have grown deliberately around the scars that decorated his lantern-shaped jaw. His uniform was battle-dress in function with a standard issue Federal Marines camouflage design. Upon each breast were the words “BALRIS AGINGHES”, respectively. 

Balris was no stranger to warfare, as evidenced by the appearance of numerous, grievous scars and burns that decorated his face. A single eye, blotted with milky white and red slurry, rendered useless by whatever had caused the wound. This physical history of his experience, further backed by the quiet mutterings of the crowd who insisted that he was – at the very least – a minor war hero of the Marines prior to the incursion of Clone Troopers that seemed ever on the rise.

Ettivala remained silent, fixated on the man as he slowly approached with the slightest of limps. She would not have noticed were it not for the occasional shimmer of morning light that reflected off the man’s cybernetic leg.

“You sound like you want change or secession. Secession would require that we become autonomous, independent of either the Federation or the State. How do you plan on that?” Balris inquired, pointedly.

“The people.” Ettivala snapped back without hesitation.

“Yes? What of the land that is owned by the Federation? The State? Everyone but those very people you speak of? The Federation and the State both create order, supply standards, and appease the necessity for contentment. Their methods are different and though the occupancy changes frequently… We need one or the other.” The scarred man explained, despite a notable lack of sincerity in his tone.

“The people are more than capable of governing themselves without the necessity of a self-appointed authority. It seems essential on the surface but an informed and involved community is apt to regard itself. Besides, I am not substantiating the separation or abolition of authority, merely the separation from a conflict that seemingly has no end, which we did not ask for, and serves no-one but pig headed politicians and stubborn generals.”

“Quite the contrary, if you want to escape from either, separation and abolition in full is the only way… One does not stop a war that has raged for hundreds of years; you stop the source.”

A moment of silence had washed over the audience prior to their whispering in quiet debate. Having weighed the merit of both participants of the debate, the people of the crowd were evenly mixed on what side to take. Balris adjusted his camouflaged jacket with a cold stare of his single useful eye at Ettivala, who stared back with a heated gaze.

“I’ll accept nothing less than separation without violence.” She retorted.

“You speak for us all?”

“I don’t. I speak for myself. I expect nothing less from these men and women gathered here today. They are more than capable of speaking for themselves, just as much as I.”

“Then you would advocate individuality without governance of a collective. What makes you think they would agree with you? Why should we fight for your beliefs if we disagree, even at the slightest?”

“We’ll die in vain for the benefit of those who fight for fighting’s sake, not for our sake.”

The debate intensified and where others would have grown bored and moved on to the less appealing routine of the daily life, the town began to flock with interest. Each denizen merely listened with intent between the two who spat reason: the War Hero asking the hard questions and the Protestor responding with seemingly all the right answers, knowing her tired and frustrated audience well. The masses formed coalescing groups – many in favor of Ettivala, being the only one who provided solutions, before the streets capacity forced them to merge. 

Bolstered by the resolve of her neighbors’ backing, Ettivala made one final push of reasoning against Balris’ endless inquisition. 

“I advocate that we rid ourselves of subservience to the Governance and the Empyreans alike. That we focus solely on the needs of we, the citizens, unshackled by the reasoning of men who would not see our plight, concerned with their own. 

I advocate the abolition of any who would declare authority over us – that true liberty remain not in the hands of corrupt legislature and judicial entities or the corporate elite, but in the hands of the people and their capability. Authority and entitlement, not in the hands of the aristocracy or the proletariat, but in the hands of all free peoples. That any who dare to impose influence does so in a capacity devoid of rights and significance. 

I advocate that we recognize that all forms of government, no matter how well intended, leads to the oppression of we, the people! That we strike, boycott, protest, and confiscate what truly belongs to us; that we do it now!” 

The crowd had immediately burst into an emphatic cheer with the boisterous finalization of Chamilie Ettivala’s words, exploding with catharsis. In their excitement, Ettivala stepped down from her heightened stage to approach the war hero, Balris, with an outstretched hand in gesture. The man extended his own to engage in gnarled grip of sentimental appreciation, giving a single nod. The two completely ignored by the sudden energy that had taken over the crowd, renewed with purpose.

“It seems like you have a way of getting the people roused, girl. I’ll admit I was a bit skeptical at first.” Balris explained with a candid grin.

“You saw them before your little inquisition. I doubt I would have been able to garner such a response if you hadn’t had your hand in the mix.” 

Ettivala’s silver eyes trailed down to the man’s chest, reading the nametags on each side before continuing.

“So tell me, Balris, what sort of interest do you have in all this? Clearly you wouldn’t have been here if not for that skepticism, surely, but why press it as hard as you did?”

“Perhaps I’m merely an old war veteran who needs to see the end of an age old routine. That chapter in my life isn’t over but I don’t see it ending in my lifetime with the way things are going now.” Balris explained.

“Imagine that, a war hero who’s sick of seeing the war. You should lead them, I am sure they will be more than happy to follow someone of your status – your experience. Lot of these people came when Lai Dai gained the development rights, looking for work. Lot more than that are old war veterans like you. I am sure they would follow someone whom they could relate.” Ettivala suggested with a genuine smile.

The veteran reached into his pocket and retrieved a thin, square metal case. He retrieved a paper roll of a bluish-green herb with red flecks – Calcadian Sage – known for its exclusive growth in the local area. The herb was a minor export but considered, locally, to be a healthier remedy to tobacco and with heavier quantities provided a mild hallucinogenic effect. He placed the roll to his dry lower lip and lit its end with a quick flash of an igniter. 

“Unfortunately, Miss Ettivala, I think you’ve already secured your place, whether you like it or not. You may have shot yourself in the foot with that little speech of yours. All I did was ask questions. It was your proposal.”

Ettivala grimaced and shook her head, casting her gaze down to the trash-covered ground as her black hair fell into her eyes. She shifted her stance to one side with a defiant creak of her leather boots. The woman look about her surroundings at the people who seemed well intent on celebrating the coalition of a single idea – her idea – for what was essentially a regression in establishment.

“No, I’m not a leader. I’m just another person, trying to get by in life without any more tears.” She said with genuine reluctance.

Balris extended his damaged hand to display the now busy street to her with a rough chuckle, shaking his head from side-to-side.

“You don’t understand, Ettivala. They chose you.” 


#


As the end of his rolled Calcadian Sage burned brighter with a sharp inhale, Balris had made a point to lock the munitions canister into the metal launch tube. Dark as it were, the only light was the light that shown from the mounted device attached to his headwear, which ran down his back in a length of synthetic fibers. 

The scarred man had begun to daydream, filling his thoughts with delusions of grandeur and fantasies of living a more simple life that opportunities provided had since passed. He pivoted on his heel and began to exit the pitch-black alley, stepping into the soft moonlight of the planet’s twin moons – one full, the other shadowed by the former – reflecting the yellow sun’s light some distance away.

“Nine meals…” He thought to himself, cocking a smirk that painted over his burn-scarred features. He gave a final, lengthy drag of the cigarette perched on his lower lip before pushing it out with his tongue to let it fall to the ground, raising the launcher to his shoulder and staring down the electronic sight at several flickering lights that began to descend onto the ground outside of a warehouse.

What soon followed was a powerful thump, an explosion that rocked the local buildings and shattered windows. The alley behind the man was completely concealed in a cloud of smoke as the missile launched with lightning precision. It flew for only a few seconds, just long enough for the pilot of the dropship to realize what was heading his way before igniting into flames and setting off a chain reaction of burning fuel.

Balris, clad in a traditional State Peacekeeper uniform, dropped the launcher to the ground and slid his hands into his pockets while his still working eye observed the flaming inferno that resulted from his efforts. As the craft burned to cinders, the food stockpiles within it smoldered. The local populace spilled from their condensed homes out onto the street in awe, observing from a distance. 

“Nine missed meals are all it takes for total anarchy…”


Monday, October 24, 2016

The Ghost of Queen's Light

Submitted for the Pod and Planet Eve Fiction Contest on October 24, 2016. 


Cover Art by Nomistrav


Date: YC117-10-15
Time: 07:01
The Bleak Lands
Kamela V
- 24th Imperial Crusade Logistic Support
Oberyn’s eyelids fluttered with a heavy and ponderous weight as his emerald eyes angrily searched for the source of the ringing alarm that aggravated his already intense migraine. The faint, rhythmic echo sounded from the door across the room in a series of low-toned chimes. With a tired, irritable groan, the slender Khanid man pulled the sheets away from his pale, naked form. Lifting to a stand, he approached the door with ripples of light emanating on the floor tiles under the pressure of his bare feet.  With a languid glance, he saw the reflective eyes of his Syrikos hound, who sat in the darkness beside the door. The faint silhouette of her silent, snarling maw outlined her features.
“Easy, Animus,” He groggily reassured the beast.
Gently massaging the crick in his neck, he stood before the doorway with a slouched posture. With an arduous gesture of his hand over the door’s scanner, he prompted it to open, and with it came a stinging, bright light that caused his eyes to water.  As he shielded his tired eyes with his outstretched hand, a nauseating smell of oil polish washed over him. Casting his blurry gaze upward, he found the taciturn face of the gold-white mass of metal standing before him.
“There is a disturbance that requires your expertise, Uhlan. You will proceed to Medical for deployment,” The man explained in a deep baritone.
With a whistle of his arid nostrils, Oberyn sucked in a breath. Swallowing the hard lump in his throat, he began to tenderly lap at his cracked lips to wet them. His stomach turned at the faint taste of alcohol that still stained his lips from the night prior. The hungover Khanid loosed a disgruntled groan as the Commodore shifted and lifted the tone and tension in his voice to a booming command.
“A squad of Imperial Marines are already arming and they are in need of a Cyber Knight for this deployment. You will, unfortunately, need to wake yourself up, and transfer to your combat clone. It will be ready for you on-board a Transport inbound for Kamela Eight, and you will be briefed en route. I don’t want to hear any lip from you – not this time. Now, get that beast of yours in motion. You’re both going,” The commodore demanded, pivoting on his heel and walking away with a flare of his cape.
Gazing out at the long corridor as the Commodore took his leave, Oberyn caught a glimpse of the passing ships. Heavily condensed, the multitude of both Capsuleer and Imperial Navy vessels signalled that it was early morning.
“I’ll never get any sleep, you know that?” Oberyn asked the drooling hound, rhetorically. “Not that I need any – a bullet to the head wakes you up pretty quickly, strange as it is. You die, you wake up, you feel unnaturally refreshed.”
Resting her jaw on the top of her paws, Animus slowly closed her yellow eyes in an attempt to drift back into slumber. With a soft nudge to her ribs to jar her awake, Oberyn gave an irritable shake of his head.  The animal silently lifted to a shaky stand and left the room with a spring in its step. To the shock and dissenting complaints of his neighboring station-goers, Oberyn exited his quarters, stark nude. His clothing would be unnecessary for the clone jump.

***


Date: YC117-10-16
Time: 09:19
With a sluggish groan, Oberyn lazily stretched his arms above his head and collapsed back into a human-sized receptacle affixed to the wall. With a glimmer of curiosity in his eyes, he lazily surveyed other capsules adjacent to him. Those capsules, which were not empty, housed other loyal mercenaries, each providing a particular service for the Imperial Crusade. The majority of them served as a vanguard, fighting against the perpetual advances of Republic fighters and Matari loyalists, diligently preventing any progress.
A holographic display appeared in front of his eyes that followed his gaze. A swift overview of his mercenary profile began to scroll in an upward motion, outlining both his vices and virtues. While a number of his attributed feats revolved around combat and electronic warfare specializations, there were an equal amount of red-lettered stains on his record. Booster addiction, alcoholism, and solicitation of prostitutes within Amarr space were among the most egregious offenses. A cursory glance over the timing of his iniquity showed a particular trend that only arose after he had become an immortal soldier. His record prior painted him as a pious, loyal, family man, right up until his recruitment by the Royal Uhlans in the Marthia system.
Without the lingering fear of death, the immortal was free to act upon his debauchery to the fullest extent, and did so with unrestrained glee.
A flash of movement startled Oberyn, refocusing his attention on a neural scanner mounted to a hydraulic armature that lowered in front of his face. The device began to give his facial features a perfunctory scan with a glowing, golden light, and emitted a loud, rhythmic banging sound. He sucked in a breath and scrunched his features, to which the device protested with a single klaxon alarm.
“Alright, I’m so-” Oberyn attempted.
“DDNNNT” The device responded.
“Would you giv-”
“DDNNNT”
Rubbing at the dull throbbing of his head with a grimace, Oberyn conceded defeat. Holding perfectly still, Oberyn held his breath and permitted the device to attempt another dreadful scan of his skull. Completing its scan, the device emitted a cutesy chime of satisfaction. In an instantaneous collage of blinding light, he exited his cosmetic clone and jumped inside a new body. His migraine and nausea had abruptly disappeared. Pins and needles rocketed across his limbs as the nerves heralded the arrival of his consciousness in the virgin mold of biomass and its dropsuit shell.
As he patiently waited for the dropsuits systems to boot, Oberyn gave an annoyed, raspy exhalation that echoed from the external speakers of his helmet in a sinister, ragged crackling of static. The dim blue lights of his helmet sprang to life as the interior screens of his helmet faded in, displaying the hold of an Imperial transport ship. Uniformly decorating the inside of the hold were several rows of seated Imperial Marines, who stared at him with mixed expressions. A younger woman looked over Oberyn with short, nervous glances, unaware that he focused on her breasts during the brief exchange.  
Concealed by the traditional dark colors of the Khanid Kingdom, his combat clone was a both a beautiful marvel and menacing monstrosity of war. In his new state, he bore little resemblance to himself, with the pale, veiny flesh of the blank clone lacking any distinguishing features.  The dropsuit was grafted to his body, particularly the metal spine, such that it could operate in synergy with his central nervous system. The organic parts of his clone that were unnecessary for function were removed and replaced with alloy and synthetic materials, giving the clone and its armor a similar mass to that of a small vehicle.
The clone soldier leaned against the interior wall of the troop transport with a dull, metallic thump. To Oberyn’s immediate flank was Animus, who stood shoulder-height to the mortal Marines. Giving a calculated stoke across the animal’s back, Obery proudly cooed, finding delight in her mere presence. In response, Animus began to brush against the metal of his legs affectionately.
“I’ve never seen a Slaver that large,” The staring woman said, nervously.
“My division’s private stock,” Oberyn explained in a matter-of-factly drawl through the static of his helmet.
“Why are its claws removed?” Asked a marine.
“What’s the cut on its neck?” Another added.
“We remove the vocal cords and claws so they don’t make any sounds when they’re running or attacking,” Oberyn stated, proudly.
The Marines took uneasy, hurried glimpses at Animus, shaken by their own fascination of the beast’s alleged guile. By contrast, the slaver hound was wholly disinterested in any of them. Transfixed on Oberyn’s armored form, the panting beast dribbled long trails of frothy saliva from her maw. A discordant, reverberating whistle emanated from Oberyn’s helmet as he turned to meet the hound’s gaze, to which her ears perked. Taking on a sentinel’s vigilance, the hound seated herself beside him.
With a hissing shift in the fuselage airlock, a Templar Lieutenant presented himself from the cockpit. Bracing himself against either side of the airlock doorway, he briefly cast his gaze over the squad of Marines before him. Giving an informal regard for Oberyn and Animus, he relayed the mission parameters.
“Several hours ago we lost contact with Queen’s Light, a small port-city on Kamela Eight, and another city on Kamela Three. We’re being deployed there while another team investigates the situation on Kamela Three. Early orbital surveillance shows signs of electronic disruption; around the city is a thirty kilometer radius bubble of interference that’s prohibiting us from getting significant intel,” The Lieutenant explained.
“I suppose that’s why I’m being dragged along,” Oberyn mocked, with a faint, static-laden chortle.
“That’s correct. Whatever is down there is strong enough to knock out our TacNet relays, which is well outside of our norm. Early theories are that it is a Matari raiding party, probably Krusual Cov Ops since they’ve got a reputation for guerilla tactics, but we’ve never seen anything of this magnitude before.
“We’ll be landing outside of the sphere of interference, inform the Fleet of our progress, and then proceed to the city. Bear in mind, that we’re not intent on fighting. We’ll reconnaissance the area, re-establish TacNet, and then hold out for reinforcements. Arrival is in fifteen, give or take, so enjoy it while it lasts.”
The remainder of the flight was spent in relative silence with the hum of the transport’s thrusters filling the anxious air. Keeping to himself, Oberyn was enraptured in a deep, foreboding concern.  

***

Date: YC117-10-16
Time: 20:27
Kamela VIII
7km from Queen’s Light
Descending into the atmosphere of the region, it was immediately clear to the reconnaissance force that the city was razed. In its expansive growth, the city held a total area of close to 120 kilometers, expanding in all directions away from the ocean to the west. Surrounding the suburban landscape were dense, snowy, evergreen forests in the painful cold of the northern hemisphere. The ocean’s waves gleamed with the mirrored light of the perpetually setting autumn sun reflecting on the icy outcrops, contrasting harshly against the black haze that loomed over the city’s central area. It was apparent, from the smoking rubble, that the city cathedral had been destroyed, utterly and totally, with obvious spite.
The transport quietly settled in a nestled clearing within the surrounding forest just outside of the zone of interference. The thrusters of the ship caused the trees to whip about in dismay. Soon after, the squad of Marines escorted the lumbering Cyber Knight out of the interior hold and out into the forest. The transport lifted off as quickly as it landed and returned to orbit with a low boom of its afterburners, leaving the squad to its mission.
“We’ll approach from the south, through the forest on the outskirts of the city. Remember, TacNet is unavailable, so restrict your communications to hand gestures if you can help it,” The Templar Lieutenant commanded to his squad.
“Uhlan, we’ll get you as close to the source of the interference as possible,” The Lieutenant continued as he shouldered his rifle, gesturing to a marine to lead them.
Set in a loose column, the Marines escorted the Cyber Knight with their weapons at the ready. Taking a moment to smell everything she crossed despite her swift stride, Animus clung to the trees. Even despite her erratic movement, Oberyn kept a keen watch on her to ensure she never left the vicinity. The Khanid lifted his plated arm, looking over his Neocom, which flickered and increased it its instability as they ventured further into the forest.
“I thought Cyber Knights worked magic with electronics?” A curious marine inquired.
“We do, but my Neocom operates on TacNet, same as your comms. I don’t imagine it’ll be much help once we get to the city,” Oberyn replied, turning the device off.
Lifting his gaze to check on Animus, Oberyn noted that she had become overzealous, and in her haste, she had become a faint blur of movement in the falling snow and fog. She rushed toward the city ahead of the squad in bounding leaps. The Uhlan emitted a loud, off-key whistle. In an instant, the hound bounded off of her front legs, sprinting back to him. As she neared, she circled silently around his legs, and stuck to him like glue for the duration of their approach.
***
Date: YC117-10-16
Time: 21:31
Kamela VIII
Queen’s Light

Flecks of ash and soot fell from the skies around the squad, intermingling with the snow. As the soldiers moved northward through the city streets, along the waterfront, thick plumes of black smoke lifted from the city itself. In tandem with the gently blowing wind, the clouds of ash moved east to west over the water. Sparks, embers, and debris fell from the burning buildings in showers, and rubble caked the concrete jungle. Across the entirety of the city were wrecked vehicles and signs of significant struggle; the walls riddled with bullet holes and laser burns. Disturbingly, despite all of the detritus, there were few blood stains, and no bodies.
The Khanid mercenary cursed under his breath, disbelieving the notion that the Republic’s shock troops could perform that sort of carnage. While the Matari had a reputation for brutality on the battlefield, he knew better just from experience. The fact that there were no bodies had been a sign of something far more sinister than the Matari or their paid guns. Just as well, the Matari depended on TacNet as much as the Empire did, even if they used their own form of it. The evidence presented caused the Uhlan to lose his nerve, finding a semblance of solace in the fact that none of the Marines around him could see his increasing anxiety beneath his dropsuit.
“This wasn’t the Republic. Not with their scorched earth tactics and the fact they eat ammunition like it’s candy,” He reasoned through the echo of his helmet.
In unison, the soldiers stopped and turned toward Oberyn with unanimous concern. Lifting his rifle and resting it against his pauldron, he canted his head slightly. Gazing out at the dark, icy water through the white-blue, low-light optics, he noticed that his heads-up display struggled to stay alive. The suit’s systems were attempting to reboot themselves repeatedly, desperately attempting to cut through the interference. Despite being a Cyber Knight, there was little he could do about the interference remotely.
In the deepest recesses of his mind, he fended off the authentic possibility that if he died in the city, that he wouldn’t come back. If he died, his next clone would use the most recent data available - the data received just before he entered the city. A terrible prospect dawned on him: It wouldn’t be his consciousness, but a copy of it, and that made him increasingly worried.  
“So, what’re you thinking it was then? Ghosts?” The Lieutenant asked, sarcastically, holding his rifle close to his chest.
“If it were, we’d at least save ammo,” Oberyn explained with insincere bravado.
Pivoting on his heel, Oberyn sounded off the high-frequency pattern that Animus was attuned to. The animal’s enormous ears twitched and she immediately began to walk in stride with him. With his free hand, he gave the animal a soft scratch behind the ears, and with a feigned conviction in his steps, he soldiered deeper into the city.
“We’ll need to physically access or destroy the jammer, if it’s this powerful, this far away.”

***
Date: YC117-10-17
Time: 02:12
Kamela VIII
Queen’s Light - City Plaza
Crawling low along the snow-laden rooftop with a trained effort, Oberyn and the squad of Marines reached the roof’s edge and scanned the city plaza below. In a quiet shuffle, Animus crawled alongside Oberyn, looking over the building’s balcony with her ears lifted high above her head. The flash of blue-white light from the inside of Oberyn’s helmet illuminated the landscape in a low-light enhancement of his optical lenses. Scanning over the plaza about half a kilometer away, Oberyn could see far more clearly than any his companions.
To the east of the squared plaza was the smoking ruins of the once large city cathedral. In front of the steps leading up to the cathedral, overlooking the waterfront, was a three-tiered, frozen over fountain, now covered in ash. Along the waterfront, at the western edge of the plaza, was a cluster of ivory-colored dropships that were stained with crimson splotches. Moving between the transports were numerous individuals, weighed down by crimson and ivory robes and light armor. Loading numerous large, capsule-like containers onto the ships, the laborers appeared content with their newfound bounty. Several of the capsules were set upright in the proximity of the transports, connected to their respective drop ship hosts with a series of large, glistening, crimson tubes.
Situated atop of one of the transports was a large, tower-like beacon with several rotating panels at its top. The distortion of heat waves rising from the panels was clearly visible in Oberyn’s low-light vision.

“I suppose that would be our jammer.” Oberyn stated before continuing his surveillance.
In front of the cluster of dropships, nearing the fountain, were a small group of individuals that stood out from the rest. Among them were three whose facial features were distinctly visible. Groaning, Oberyn tried to shift his rifle in an awkward fashion, aiming it at the fountain’s lower basin.  He squeezed the under-barrel trigger gently, firing an audio probe from the attachment on his rifle.  The device buried into the basin’s wall and a moment later began to receive a point-to-point, high-gain signal that allowed him to listen in on the conversation through the jammer’s interference.
"-en they're done being drained, the capsules will automatically biomass the remains," Explained a pitched, female voice.
Adjusting the rifle’s scope once more, Oberyn attempted to see which of the individuals was speaking: A blonde, bob-cut woman with droopy eyes, clad in a bloodstained dropsuit. Without a connection to TacNet, he couldn't confirm his suspicions, but he strongly suspected the woman to be Tairei Namazoth, Senior Tactical Commander of the Blood Raider Covenant.
"The biomass will then be loaded onto the dropships and taken back to our ships in orbit, where they will be transported to your facilities," Tairei explained.
"I assume that we can begin production immediately?" Another woman explained, glancing between Tairei and a hooded man.
Oberyn recognized both the other woman and the hooded man from memory of a Khanid Kingdom wanted list. Hazli Tamarom, a security official, and Odrus Yakari, a distribution agent — both known individuals who operated a Blood Raider testing facility deep within Delve.
"Yes. They'll be expected to contribute to the harvest, but they'll be ready for combat as well," Odrus explained.
"Good. It'll prove to be an important insight into the technology. Our losses will be quelled, the donor blood pure, and the impact severe. You're ready to mass produce my armor?" Tairei asked, gesturing over her bloodstained suit with a devious grin.
"The Crimson Paladins will field only the best," Odrus replied, sincerely. "Erm, what should we call this model?" Hazli asked.
"Tairei's Crimson," Namazoth responded, dutifully.
It was only then that Oberyn fully realized what was surrounding the conversing group. Each of the bloodstained Paladins was clad in armor reminiscent of the standard issue Amarr light frame dropsuit, notably distinct from the lightly armored Raiders. Coincidentally, the Paladins wore the same model of dropsuit he was wearing, albeit with a more sinister look. Releasing a heavy, defeated sigh, Oberyn put all of the puzzle pieces together as the crippling realization dawned on him: The Covenant were preparing to field infantry clones.
"They’re biomassing the population," Oberyn explained to the squad that accompanied him.
"Why would they biomass them?" The Lieutenant inquired.
"Eh, well — Crimson Paladins got an upgrade. Only a few of them are in dropsuits though, rest of the Raiders aren’t as heavily armed, so that’s advantageous," The Cyber Knight explained with a grim tone.
The squad began to shift with a slight tinge of anxiety. While each Imperial was ready to give their life for the empire, few were willing to do so in vain, and with the Uhlan's brief explanation of his theory, the prospects for anything short of martyrdom were slim. However, the presence of the immortal Khanid bolstered their confidence to ill-founded extremes, unaware of his apathy toward them.
"We can't contact the Crusade while they have that jammer online. We can either assault the Raiders, disable the jammer, and get a transmission to the Crusade, or we can foot it back to rendezvous and wait for the dropship," Oberyn explained.
"We’d have to hike back to the dropzone and call for evac. It’d take hours." A marine barked in retort.
"Then I guess our answer is pretty clear, yeah?" Oberyn chimed, lifting to a stand.
***
Date: YC117-10-17
Time: 02:27
Kamela VIII
Queen’s Light - City Plaza
Igniting Animus’ commanding, off-key whistle, Oberyn stared at a lone Crimson Paladin through the view-screen of his helmet. In a flash, Animus began sprinting with only the faint patter of her de-clawed paws rushing along the ash-flooded ground. In an instant, the Paladin was tackled, and the hound clamped down on his throat like a vice grip, allowing his blood to pour like an open faucet. A blood pool quickly began to form as the Paladin struggled against the animal. Now missing his vocal cords, the silence was only broken by the soft scraping of limbs against the ground.
Pushing forward and converging inward on the city plaza, the squad of Imperial Marines made short work of the Raiders and Paladins, who were caught off-guard. Having ambushed the Covenant forces with lightning speed and efficiency, they overwhelmed the Raiders in their sudden advance. As they closed the distance, the Marines began to fall into defensive positions, guarding Oberyn against the inevitable counter-attack as he raced toward the TacNet Jammer. Leaping up the side of the transport the device was anchored to with a heavy thud of his armor, he quickly set to work.
Through the flurry of laser and small arms fire, Oberyn connected his Neocom to the jammer, hastily bypassing the safeguards in an effort to disable the device. The security on the jammer was trivial, and well within his expertise, but he still worked feverishly to make the most of the Marines' suicide mission. As the Marines began to lose ground, he quickly converted the jammer into a transmission beacon to dispatch a distress signal across any frequency he could think of. Having restored the TacNet signal, and the warning to the Fleet dispatched, the survival of his combat clone was no longer a concern, to which Oberyn gave a mischievous grin.
Atop the Raiders’ dropship, he lifted his rifle and returned fire at the advancing Raiders and Paladins. Keenly aware that the Marines were quickly dwindling in number, he knew that they would not last. Having achieved their goal, he was ultimately unconcerned with their lives, and focused his attention on Animus. Through his blue-white optics he could see that the she had huddled behind the fountain’s basin, desperately trying to avoid the incoming projectiles. Lowering his weapon to his side, Oberyn sounded off the authoritative screech of her routing command.
Animus had only ever heard the command once, but she was trained to recognize it as a retreat. The hound rolled out of cover and sprinted toward him as the last of the Marines fell dead around her. In the fray and confusion, she ran right into a dropsuit-clad Paladin’s arms, and was thrown to the ground with a sickening crunch that fractured her shoulder-blade. Seeing his companion silently writhe in pain, Oberyn panicked, and slid down the side of the transport ship in a desperate attempt to reach her.
As he ran toward the Raider who began to crack the hound’s head with the butt of his rifle, Oberyn was intercepted by another Paladin with a savage bodyslam. The Paladin pinned him to the ground with its heavy boot, throwing his weapon out of reach as several Raiders rushed to assist, using their additional weight to render him immobile.
Apprehended by several of his assailants, Oberyn was lifted to his knees as a presentation to the armored woman who approached through the haze of smoke and ash. Oberyn lifted his gaze toward the blonde, bob-cut woman with an unseen hatred in his eyes. By contrast, the woman approached Oberyn with a calm, tactical demeanor, but never lost the distant, uncaring look in her eyes. Kneeling down in front of him, she stared directly into his visor with a dim curiosity, mixed with disdain.
“Tairei, good to finally meet you,” Oberyn coughed in futile derision.
“You’ve caused me quite a bit of trouble now, mercenary. You have disabled my jammer, and we heard your little cry for help. This was supposed to be a covert operation and you’ve dismantled my plan.” Tairei explained with a bitter distaste in her voice.
“What can I say, I couldn’t let a bitch like you bleed the place dry without a little resistance,” Oberyn spat, mockingly.
The woman clasped her hands together, resting her chin against her thumbs. Oberyn weakly struggled against his captors, yanking his arms against their iron grasp. Despite his dissent, his captors overpowered him by volumes, trapping him.
"Normally, I'm not one to take captives. On the other hand, I never expected the Crusade to send clones. Not for a little reconnaissance, at least. Then again, the Khanid were always the brawn of the operation, weren’t they?" She challenged.
Shaking her head in joyful disbelief, Tairei gave the faintest of smiles. Lifting to a stand, she gestured toward Animus with a blasé wave of her hand.
"Kill the hound," She demanded.
"No! No, wait! Please, God, no, don't kill her!" Oberyn protested, the light static of his helmet accentuating the panic in his voice.
A Paladin stepped closer to the wounded and immobile slaver hound, igniting her in a bath of light. Pulses of his laser rifle cooked her flesh and dissolved the fatty tissue. The smell of burnt fur filled the air as a cloud of thick black smoke lifted from her form. Her flesh slipped from her form in a gelatinous puddle as she silently writhed and quivered in pain, unable to voice her agony.
Briefly escaping the grasp of his captors in his rage, Oberyn gave a terrible howl of anguish. Barely held back by the bloodstained Paladin and Raiders, he struggled with animalistic ferocity. In the struggle, he managed to pry a weapon from one of them, and thrusted the barrel upward into the Paladin’s jaw, yanking on the trigger with a vengeful snarl. The Paladin's head exploded instantly and its body rolled to the ground, twitching as the remnant nerves fired.
The Uhlan felt a solid kick to his helmet, causing a dizzying array of rainbow spots to cloud his vision. Despite his daze, he saw another Paladin walk off the ramp of a nearby dropship mere seconds later and immediately knew that it was the one he had just killed. With the confirmation of the immortal Paladin's rebirth, Oberyn knew they had access to Mobile Clone Reserves; that his struggle was unavailing.

"A clone’s blood is pure, mercenary,” Tairei barked, emphatically.

The Crimson Paladin approached with newfound purpose, placing the sharp of its blade against Oberyn's neck and dug in deep, cutting across his pale flesh through the synthetic material of his mantle. The blade pierced with a surgeon's precision, grazing along the artery and splitting it. The Paladin took careful consideration not to cut his throat, and thus Oberyn was conscious for the duration of his slow, fading death. Soon after his consciousness drifted away, he awoke again, suddenly, and disoriented.
In his new, naked body, he looked up, and saw his previous, armored form being prepared for a harvest of its blood. Long, hooked, sucking tubes were punched into his arteries by the Raiders, and at the base of his gashed neck, they held a container, collecting his trickling blood. Before he could react, several other Raiders apprehended him, kicking and buckling his knees to force him to the ground. His panicked, confused, and tear-filled eyes then met with Tairei, who bellowed a deranged laugh, and clapped her hands together in a giddy dance, pleased with the terror on display. In an instant, she fell beside Oberyn and grasped his head in her hands, preventing him from looking away from the exsanguination of his own body. She spoke with emphasis on her words, speaking quickly, and with a maddening grin that accompanied her wide, crazed eyes.
“We’re going to kill you again, back home. And when you wake up, we're going to bleed you again. And again. And again. You will never stop bleeding for us. All these people you were trying to save, and all of these Marines? They're going to fuel each and every one of your clones, little Ghost."
For the first time in his life as an immortal, Oberyn was terrified.