EVE Fiction

Hey everyone,

The posts below are my entry for the Pod and Planet Contest 2013 as part of the "Day in the Life" category. I originally wanted to submit this under the 8,000 Suns category, but given the liberties I take in describing non-capsuleer ships and functions, I played it safe. The story centers around the captain of a sellship crew and the conclusion of their latest escort contract.

Word count is 4987 according to MS Word and is previously unpublished:




 The sudden but cool red flash and audible bleep of the small transmitter sitting center stage on Captain Ben Sole's console made him blink out of his starry daydream and straighten himself. The bridge of his Evocator class escort ship hung dim and silent, save for the occasional groaning of the aged hull and the electrical hum of its systems and propulsion at work. His first mate Darion or, more appropriately, Ruckus, so nicknamed for the state of things he was so adept at causing, sat asleep at his station nearby. Ben unhurriedly scratched at the short black fuzz on his face and tightened his old brown longcoat before opening the channel comm to the bridge.
 
"This is the Alastor, go ahead" Ben droned the line into the receiver for what seemed the millionth time.
 
"This is the Jax. We are approaching the gate to the Deven system. Inform your convoy and prepare to jump" returned the gruff voice of Admiral Tyrius Keldon.
 
 The transmission cut before Ben could reply his affirmation.
 
"Figures" Ben huffed.
 
Ben wasn't surprised though. Ruckus was right to call Keldon nothing short of a "...rankled and sparse ol' bastard, still stylin' himself some sort of military leader an' tryin' ta relive some glory days he never had!"
 
Of course, Sole mused, it was easy to style yourself whatever you wanted when you sat at the helm of a Federation direct issue, precision assembled, christened and bred, Gallente-green-right-down-to-the-bones Megathron battleship. Also with a hand picked crew and state of the arms weapons systems to boot. And while the Alastor had been Ben's baby girl for the last eight years, Evocator class ships were noted for their versatility, and certainly not their aesthetic, or prestige they brought to their controllers. So Ben could only imagine how far down the ladder Keldon had been kicked when he was assigned to lead a group of dirt-shoveling civilian ships in several convoys ten kilometers long. As well on an escort mission the length of which was the first Sole had been hired to do.
 
Ben snatched an empty can of Quafe from the edge of his console and overhanded it at Ruckus, "Wake up, Ruck!"
 
Ben missed his mark but the shout and tink-clinking of the can on the deck startled Ruckus out of his nap. He grumbled and looked around, sitting up in his chair. He spotted the can as it rolled away before rubbing his tired eyes and turning to meet the face of his captain and employer.
 
"Get your lazy ass up!" Sole barked, "Run along and tell our convoy to warm up their drives, next stop is Deven on our mark."
 
Ruckus stood. He was no less the tall and muscled, but drunk bellied, Matari ex-pirate than the day he found him on a slowly sinking orbital out in Auga. Ruckus yawned and rubbed his eyes again before nodding.
 
"An' what about Tally and her boys? Do I keep 'em on the trigger?
 
Ben thought for a moment, "Nah, tell them to stand easy. Their nerves must be all kinds of frayed from manning the guns and only targeting stars this long of a trip." 

If Ruckus was the brawn that kept his crew of over three dozen in line, than Tally was the brains. Supposedly a top tier war academy graduate on one of the Gallente core planets, her pedigree of knowledge and skills could fill a book. As a matter of fact, it was a wonder she signed on with Ben at all. But like the rest of the crew, he wasn't one to ask too many questions, understanding the importance of secrecy when trapped amidst jackals and vagabonds in what amounted to a metal tomb.

Ben smiled and took on his most sarcastic tone.
 
"After all, we've got an almighty ex-flagboy of the Federation in his shiny green boat to protect us."
 
Ruckus gave a hoarse and sleepy chuckle before turning back to his station and contacting the officers of the ships they had been assigned and passing along the order.

Despite the length of the trip and the boredom that ensued when moving at this snail's pace, Ben still smirked when the ship came to life. The static of Darion's speaker as he called out orders, the echoing voices and metal clamor of his other two bridge crew, Iolis and Seth, as they made their way over to check in and assist with the jump. He even recognized the bump and thrum, a side effect when your ship is built with second hand containment parts, of the fuel line mixtures catalyzing to speed up the ship for gate travel.

Admiral Keldon and his frigate wing jumped first, with two other sellship captains and their convoys due to follow up before the Alastor and her charges.

An eternal minute crawled by.

"Captain, I have the Admiral on the vidline"

"Good", Ben took a few long strides in his heavy black strap boots, quickening back to the Captain's station. He brushed the shoulder of his coat and raised himself to his full height, turning to face the viewport.

"Get the screen up and put him through"

Iolis nodded. A few seconds later, a digital image expanded over the polyglass of the main viewport, illuminating the bridge of the Alastor with a scene of cool and polished and gratuitous perfection. The consoles onboard the bridge of the Jax were mathematical in their placement, their corners sharp edged and shiny enough to not be real. And though Ben couldn't tell through the subpar resolution of his third hand onboard display projector, he had no doubt that he would be able to see his reflection on the deck. Hell, he'd have to replace the grips on his boots or he would slip on that undoubtedly ridiculous sheen. Amidst a staff of over a dozen uniformed bridge operators, Admiral Tyrius Keldon stood center stage, his crisp Navy uniform, lined eyes, puffed chest, and white trimmed beard well complimenting the attitude he would likely take with Ben Sole.

"Admiral Kel--" again, Ben was cut off before he could offer the slightest bit of courtesy.

"Your minion failed to offer a reason for your call, Sole, and so I can only assume it is urgent, assuredly demanding my undivided attention." Their was a moment into which Ben rightly chose not to reply, knowing the Admiral was not finished. 

Keldon paused before his tone started to boil over in venomous resentment, "Is it indeed urgent, Captain?"

Ben was no stranger to this kind of treatment. Mercs and sellships were always looked down on by the 'civilized' types, especially by the military. 

"Sir, the combination of absent alignment orders and the delay into Deven have shaken my crew and convoy. I thought only to reassure them."

"You mean delay us even further captain?" Keldon's words cut through Ben like a sword, "I might remind you of the terms of your contract, mercenary. Therefore, to hell with your crew and your concerns. You will receive your orders whenever it seems good to me. Now, is there anything else?"

Ben gritted his teeth and said nothing.

"Good", Keldon grinned. The kind of grin that got your teeth caved in anywhere else in New Eden aside from the safety of your ship ten kilometers away. The Admiral motioned to one of the operators, who voiced acknowledgment and severed the vid connection. The image of the Jax flicked and faded away, pitching the bridge into its usual button-lit darkness.

Ruckus gave a short and throaty laugh, "Was it me or did that seem jes' a little excessive, even for Keldon?"

Ben cursed and pounded his fist into the captain's station. The sound and suddenness of it made every living person on the bridge jump. The fizzing sound Ben heard after meant he likely broke something under the panel. Ruckus' forced mirth faded instantly.

Ignoring the pain in his hand, Sole whipped around and manned one of the empty consoles nearby. He felt something akin to his instinct flip on and hypertune his words and his movements.

"Warm up the scanner and shoot wide. Note any large and active sensor clusters on the closest orbital bodies or stations" Ben said to no one in particular, keeping his eyes on the center screen of his console.

Ruckus stood up, "Captain, I know what yer thinkin'. And Keldon is one uptight sunava *****, but you know his type, always imaginin' themselves in some pissing contest. No call to be suspicious yet"

Ben looked up for only a second to reply, "Oh no, my friend, things just got violently shoved out of suspicion into something far worse. Now get Tally back on the guns and get us and the convoy aligned to any warp worthy signature."

Ruckus almost opened his mouth to protest but only gave a reluctant salute before calling the crew of two down in navigation and after that Tally, who had likely still waited at the threshold of the gun pits

Ben couldn't wait long. He looked over at the newest addition to the crew and to his bridge complement, a Gallente born orphan named Seth.

Ben had 'adopted' Seth from another sellship captain that he had befriended sometime ago but that afterward lost everything, including his life, to some capsuleer pirates out in the ass end of zero sec. Seth showed up, red eyed, starving, dirty, and twitching from some badly installed implants in need of maintenance, on Ben's doorstep sometime later. The teen had since bounced back, earning his keep to the point of begrudging the respect of Ruckus even.

"Give it to me Seth."

"Concentrate fire on the frigates. Give the convoy opening to align and escape" Ben ordered.
 
Civilian class transports are just that, transports. Bulky, lumbering, and needing of protection in all save the safest areas of space. That wasn't good enough for the bigwigs at Teknos Industries though. So ten years ago, under the noses of their parent company, Illyn Tech, themselves owned by CreoDron, they decided to take things into their own hands. Take any medium civvie transport; weld on turret emplacements, gut some of the hold to make room for drone deployment pods, slide some cheap armor plating and a beefy sensor suite into the figurative seam, and you have an Evocator class transport-turned-escort ship. It has countless variations. Affordable, barely legal, barely functional, and the choice of every two bit sellship, merc, or bitter ex-soldier captain from here to Pure Blind. In the right hands though, they were more than worthy.
 
The battle, or massacre more like, raged on. The closest enemy Atron, capsuleer piloted, weaved, uncontrolled, as its plating buckled and split under a fusillade of fire from the Alastor. The power of the blasters was such that the firing of its barrel sent shudders through the ship, enough to chatter the teeth and set one on edge. Moments later, hull bursting, the Atron spewed needles of fire and some of its small crew into space before wrecking.
 
"I have the Kobolds online and ready, Captain. Should I send 'em out?" asked Ruckus over comms.
 
Kobolds were a knock off of the military grade Hobgoblin combat drones. And a crappy one at that. Slow, sputtering, and equipped with small solid projectile cannons that Tally and Ruckus were fond of nicknaming '****-and-pea shooters', for their inability to really damage anything. They would serve no purpose now.
 
Ben shook his head, "No. Too slow to keep up with those frigs and too weak to damage the cruisers."
 
The destruction of the capsuleer Atron was enough to disperse some of the smaller Serpentis ships. A number of the civilian ships, several of his own convoy included, broke away. 
 
"We've lost the Black Thorn, Captain" reported Iolis, calm as a rocky stream, "And the battlecruiser group has moved into range and destroyed five of the civilian vessels. A sixth, the Blue Star, is intact but under boarding assault by Breaker pods."
 
Ben nodded, "Continue targeting the frigates and keep us out of range of the cruisers. Have the warp engine ready once the last of the convoy is clear and away. Have we heard from the Jax?"
 
"No sir. And the last of its escort is being driven off by the Serpentis" replied Seth.
 
We've saved what we can. I think we've tempted fate long enough, thought Ben, resigning.
 
A sharp breep sounded from the bridge speaker. It was sometimes the last sound the occupants of a ship would hear.
 
"Weapons lock! The Astarte has lock!" yelled Seth, flipping a switch above his head to open shipwide comms, "Incoming rail fire!"
 
"Brace!" cried Ben.
 
The long range, massive chunks of sonic death ripped through the Alastor's meager shields, biting deep into the nanofiber armor plating. The ship groaned in agony and shook under the first volley. The bridge rocked and some systems sparked and wailed, failing, but she held.
 
"Get us outta here!" Ben yelled before running to the only entrance to the bridge and calling Ruckus up. He would need him here to coordinate the escape.

Ben turned and stumbled, barely managing to grasp the headrest of the captain's chair when the second volley struck. Iolis was thrown clean off of his feet as the bridge shuddered and the defenses weakened. Cries and orders could be heard from the decks below. The bridge came alive with more sirens and automated notifications. The plating was split but still intact. Several codes and coordinates scrolled up Ben's console screen. Some were fires that sprung up, and others were informing superficial damage to the internal bulkheads or other crucial systems.

Ruckus crashed onto the bridge, his haste obvious. He had his sidearm, an old C series ‘Porus’ brand revolver, brandished. He always thought it lent him an extra air of intimidation whenever he took over the crews down below. He was right.

“Damn those brain juiced capsuleers are howlin’ fer blood!’ Ruckus complained, holstering his pistol and plopping down at his station. “Are we aligned yet?”

It was now or never. Ben could only guess how many ships they would leave behind, but he at least wanted to be around to guess. Iolis, having already recovered, reported alignment with the farthest moon in the system. From there they could take stock and make a proper get away.

“Hit it!”

The thrum of the warp engine could be both felt and heard, whirring and priming, preparing to power them away from this hell of wrecked steel.