Saturday, November 13, 2010

Exile Day 5

His voice haunts me, what I remember of it. Its been years. Recent contact was text only, now I know why.

A Sleeper Battleship cruised nearby my pod today. I have been parked near the central star, hoping the increased radiation levels will partially shield me from roving sensors.

I barrel-rolled my cramped vessel between two solar flares ear the Northern pole and managed to avoid a lock. But one of these days i'll slip up. I've assumed my clones have been exterminated in the conspiracy, and the idea of eternal, mindless darkness is more than I can imagine.

I think back to employers. I've been committed to Carthum Conglomerate for years now. Somewhere currently beyond my reach there's a level 4 Research & Development agent stowing away datacores in case I ever make it home.

A piece of mineral debris smacked into my pod not long ago, it dented a main solar collector inward. I am now running at an energy deficit.

I can't stay current on popular pod pilot blogs, but to pass the time I've read buffers of past posts from the wicked cluster of top eve authors, The Eve Blog Pack. I recommend you all check it out, there are some wonderful stories to follow, all true.

I've thrown caution to the wind, broadcasting on all local channels all the time, bolting between safe spots to avoid the inevitable Sleeper crackdown. These....things, don't respond to comms, they are without reason, a simple driving destructive force, smash, collect, render, smash.

I entered the upper atmosphere of the only temperate planet in this wormhole system. My basic sensors picked up no advanced intelligence.

The damage to my pod meant that I couldn't safely land; atmospheric entry would roast me through the latest cracks in the outer creche casing.

I called up information on my Corporation. I'd joined Moira. when the Sansha first began their Highsec attacks via manufactured wormholes from their hidden space. At first it was incursions on other factions, but then came the day a gaping portal opened in Amarr space, and I enlisted in their task force whose aim was to bring the Sansha to their knees.

Passing the time, I reread their abbreviated mission statement...

"With the start of the Nation War of Resurgence, Moira. has joined the fight alongside allies from every faction of New Eden. We have ceased all activities of factional warfare due to the ongoing Sansha threat.

In response to the return of Sansha Kuvakei and his minions, we will conduct military operations to halt and destroy Nation military incursions throughout populated space, wherever possible. We are also recruiting and training combat pilots for any future escalation of the current conflict.

This is no longer a matter of race, faction, or creed. Sansha's Nation is a threat to all human life. Under Kuvakei, all human beings, capsuleers included, would be subverted to the will of a twisted megalomaniac, and those that resisted, would be destroyed and reprocessed into biomass.

These are dangerous times. Moira. stands ready to face them. Join us, and you will become the tip of the spear against Sansha's Nation and all other threats to the survival and prosperity of humanity. "
We'd been doing just that, roving the borders of Empire space, bolting to the scene of the latest Sansha incursion. We'd lost many ships in our efforts to prevent all those innocents from being swept up by their evil and robbed of their souls. But their xenophobic war machine gobbled them up, whole cities, whole worlds. Moira. had been among a specialized arm of the defense that had tried eclectic tactics, things like warp disrupting the incursion's portal, attempts to cut off the harvesting ships before they could reach colonized planets. In the two engagements I was involved in I piloted an Armageddon Battleship, and both times was forced to move off with extensive system damage.

My most chilling Sansha memory was the first incursion while under Moira. I missed it, arriving minutes after the final Sansha warship had withdrawn. What I saw froze me. An endless graveyard of empty, charred hulls; proud Amarrian Battleships broken along the spine; and the screams of choking, burning crewmen on the comms. I did what I could in the disaster response but I'll never forget that day. My surveillance camera took a photograph, one I glance look at from time to time to remind me of the gravity of the choices that are made between the stars.

You can see the in the distance, mammoth and pulsing, the now-collapsing rift that made their inhumane raid possible.

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